Su Zhuyi had rarely seen Xiaoxiao on Luoxue Peak.
Little Skull had hidden it very well.
Wrapping it tightly with spiritual energy, not allowing even a trace of its aura to leak out, afraid of making her unhappy. When Little Skull went to Qin Jianglan’s side, Xiaoxiao would spend all day staying on the mountain. What it ate and drank, how it made a living under those powerful spirit beasts on the mountain—Su Zhuyi knew nothing of this.
Dogs were very spiritually sensitive creatures. Su Zhuyi hated dogs, and Xiaoxiao could sense this itself. It never approached Su Zhuyi, with only one exception—today.
Right now…
“Xiaoxiao…”
That blood was still hot, still scalding, splashing on her face, splashing into her eyes. Before her eyes was a crimson expanse, the world within her sight seeming like a vast ocean of blood.
Xiaoxiao had advanced and was no ordinary spirit beast. Its life force was very tenacious. It whimpered twice, slowly crawling to Su Zhuyi’s side, gently placing its paw on her face. In its paw, it held a spirit fruit—a spirit fruit from the snowy mountains that could replenish spiritual energy.
Seeing that Su Zhuyi had no spiritual energy left, it grabbed a red fruit to bring over.
Its body seemed to have been split in two by the Longquan Sword. When it crawled, it dragged a trail of blood across the ground. The pain made its claws tighten, crushing the spirit fruit. That juice also splashed onto Su Zhuyi’s face, flowing into her mouth—cool and refreshing, yet very sweet, reminding Su Zhuyi of that candy she had eaten as a child, that sweetness that made her heart go soft…
She thought, if she didn’t die, if Xiaoxiao didn’t die, she probably wouldn’t harbor killing intent toward it anymore in the future.
But would there be a future?
Tears and blood blurred her vision. She saw that mass of black qi approach once more, yet it didn’t act rashly, instead stopping before her.
Xiaoxiao’s blood had splashed into the black qi, seeming to make it restrain itself somewhat.
Legend said dog blood was also an evil-dispelling substance. Could it be that Xiaoxiao’s blood had played a small role?
But moments later, Qinghe moved again.
Qinghe, shrouded in black qi, stood stiffly before Su Zhuyi. He raised his hand, black qi condensing into a sword in his hand, as if he held a Longquan Sword in his grasp. He raised the Longquan Sword. Black qi dripped from the sword’s body like ink. Where it touched skin, there was a stinging pain, as if burned by fierce flames or corroded by poison, accompanied by sizzling sounds.
The sword pressed down, then lifted again. Qinghe’s entire body was trembling, his arm shaking incessantly.
The black qi on his body faded slightly. Su Zhuyi could see his face—that face with veins bulging, countless resentful qi filling his body, flowing through him, manifesting on his face like countless black earthworms writhing. His eyes were tinged red, his expression agonized. Strange gurgling sounds came from his throat, mixed with sword howls one after another, as if Qinghe was arguing with the Longquan Sword.
Su Zhuyi had lost much blood. She lay in a pool of blood, the only bit of spiritual energy in her body coming from the spirit fruit Xiaoxiao had given her. Now Qinghe was struggling, and she desperately wanted to pull pills from her storage pouch to replenish herself, but she couldn’t move at all—she couldn’t even lift a finger.
The black sword was only three inches from her. That ink-like black qi seemed to surge into her eyes. Just then, Qinghe suddenly raised his sword, and a tear rolled down from his eyes.
“Junior Sister…” He uttered the words with difficulty, flipping his wrist to grip the sword in reverse, pointing the tip at himself and pressing down hard.
The sword formed of condensed black qi pierced through his body but caused him no actual harm. Su Zhuyi instantly understood—at this moment Qinghe’s consciousness held the upper hand. He wanted to perish together with the Longquan Sword, but had not yet found the method…
In the previous life, when Qinghe’s soul lamp was extinguished, the Longquan Sword never again emerged to cause chaos. He must have found a way to seal or destroy the Longquan Sword.
“Where is Wu’er?” Qinghe half-knelt on the ground, his hand grasping Su Zhuyi’s wrist. During his rare moment of clarity, he used too much force, directly crushing Su Zhuyi’s arm.
With Wu’er present, he might be able to persist a little longer. But now, where was Wu’er?
Qinghe looked up, seeing Master on the bed. A low whimper came from his throat. He released his grip on Su Zhuyi’s hand, his large palm grasping the bed frame, forcibly breaking off a piece of the wooden bed and instantly crushing it to powder. His fingers also became stained with Luo Ying’s blood.
The Heart Sword Stone at her chest had lost all radiance. From the shock, it had rolled off her body, falling directly to where Luo Ying’s severed arm lay, soaking in that pool of blood. Originally just an unremarkable fist-sized rough stone, now it was like a sponge, actually beginning to absorb that fresh blood. In an instant, the stone became bright red, crystal clear, and translucent like pigeon blood stone.
Just then, the black qi on Qinghe’s body suddenly erupted, once again concealing his form. Only an ice-cold, sinister voice could be heard saying, “My sacrificial offering—how dare you steal it!”
The Longquan Sword once again took control. Black qi condensed into a sword, slashing toward the Heart Sword Stone. In her heart, Su Zhuyi kept calling to the Broken Sword, “Sword Ancestor, Sword Ancestor…”
Broken Sword: “…”
The Longquan Sword was stronger than its current self.
The section of the sword body that had finally grown was now covered in cracks from their recent clashes. Flying swords needed to be held in their master’s hand to achieve greater power. It had previously suppressed flying swords because it was the earliest and strongest one in the Sword Tomb. But the Longquan Sword had changed countless masters since its birth and was finally sealed. Such swords would never enter the Sword Tomb—they would either be sealed or destroyed, never entering the Sword Tomb. So as long as it hadn’t completely been reborn, it wouldn’t have much restraining power over the Longquan Sword…
Broken Sword: “Is calling me useful?”
No use.
It had forgotten its past, only remembering that it had stayed in the Sword Tomb for thousands upon thousands of years, watching sword after sword appear in that graveyard, watching batch after batch of people enter and select other swords to take away.
It was just a broken sword. No one ever chose it. Of course, it also looked down on those people.
When it suddenly wanted to leave one day, it discovered it had already approached the Sword River, had already become rusty and corroded, and was already about to fall into the Sword River like some of those swords that couldn’t wait for a master, to merge with countless broken swords.
Even as the Sword Ancestor, the first sword in the Sword Tomb, it couldn’t escape such a fate.
It was the Sword Ancestor, with its pride. If no one took a fancy to it, it wouldn’t actively entice people either. Until one day, it was picked up by someone. I thought, this must be destiny. Since that was the case, it would go out with her. On the surface, it appeared calm, but the Broken Sword was very happy inside. Its way of expressing happiness was probably to hum.
The person who picked it up was weak.
The person who picked it up didn’t even like practicing swordplay.
The person who picked it up didn’t seem like a sword cultivator at all.
But she was changing bit by bit. Sword intent was close to the human heart, so her changes—it was the one who felt them most deeply.
Watching Su Zhuyi desperately struggle to get up, the Broken Sword suddenly flew high into the sky. Its sword body hummed and resonated, that sound echoing through the clouds like rolling thunder, causing all the flying swords of Gujian Sect disciples to ring in harmony. Countless brilliant sword lights shot into the sky, gathering together, while the Broken Sword’s body became covered in cracks, as if torn apart by countless sword qi.
Sword qi, like an azure dragon, crashed toward Qinghe. Simultaneously, a large cluster of pine needles shot from the distant large pine tree. Green sword intent merged with azure sword intent, piercing through the black qi on the Longquan Sword. Qinghe staggered, his sword-swinging motion blocked. Then the black sword in his hand disappeared, and his entire body swayed, collapsing to kneel before Luo Ying’s bed.
The moment he knelt, the Broken Sword above plummeted from the sky, hitting the ground with a thud. The sword body shattered, leaving only the hilt and three inches of blade…
“Sword Ancestor…”
Broken Sword: “If you can survive, practice swordplay properly.”
After speaking, the sword light completely disappeared. The hilt again became covered in rust, even more broken than when first seen in the Sword Tomb, as if picking up that broken sword from the ground would turn it to powder.
Qinghe’s hand grasped Luo Ying.
His hand was trembling, his body was trembling. Only now did Su Zhuyi realize that the Master on the bed no longer had any breath at all. Her blood seemed to have drained completely, her entire body ice-cold, clearly having lost all vitality.
Dead?
Dead?
Su Zhuyi was completely stunned. Her mind went momentarily blank. Her lips moved, but she couldn’t make a sound. In her ears, she heard Qinghe’s roar as he held Luo Ying’s body tightly, crying and laughing, nearly driven to madness.
He lifted Luo Ying into his arms, stood up, and turned to leave. When his steps passed Su Zhuyi, Qinghe paused and said, “Take care.”
Behind him were scattered wisps of black qi, floating there with bared fangs and claws. Though they had been cut to pieces by the Sword Ancestor’s sword qi and weren’t as arrogant and fierce as before, they seemed to mock her, making her heart feel cut by knives.
Luo Ying was still dead.
Qinghe would leave carrying Luo Ying’s corpse, then he would find a way to seal the Longquan Sword, and die with his path severed.
Su Zhuyi’s fingers moved slightly. She used all her strength to reach out and grab Qinghe’s trouser leg.
“Senior Brother…”
“Don’t die…”
The Heart Sword Stone—the Heart Sword Stone was still there. This time was different from before. Just now, the Longquan Sword hadn’t said the Heart Sword Stone was stealing sacrificial offerings? Master’s soul, Master’s soul might be within the Heart Sword Stone. She gripped Qinghe’s trouser leg tightly, wanting to speak, but her mouth opened and her voice was hoarse, speaking in broken fragments, unable to form complete sentences. With slight effort, Qinghe broke free. He turned to glance at Su Zhuyi. “From now on, you are the master of Luoxue Peak.”
With Master dead, Luoxue Peak would be inherited by the disciple. With him gone, only Junior Sister remained.
He left carrying Luo Ying’s physical body, but just then, several figures rushed up Luoxue Peak. He had thought they were fellow disciples coming to obstruct, but unexpectedly, Gujian Sect disciples had been forced to retreat to Luoxue Peak.
Demonic cultivators!
The Gujian Sect indeed had spies reporting intelligence. So quickly, demonic cultivators had taken the opportunity to attack in groups and had already fought their way up Luoxue Peak. Seeing that people from Dong Fushang Sect wore appearance-changing magical treasures to hide among the Demonic Path, Qinghe immediately understood—Dong Fushang Sect had colluded with the Demonic Path. His soul was now immensely powerful. Though that person wore high-level spiritual treasures to disguise his identity, Qinghe still recognized him.
Dong Fushang Sect! Dong Fushang Sect had long-standing grudges with Gujian Sect and had probably long intended to act. This time, they had waited for an excellent opportunity.
Seeing those people, killing intent surged in Qinghe’s heart. The black qi behind him instantly doubled and more. But the moment the black qi went berserk, his arm tightened, holding Luo Ying’s corpse even closer, as if wanting to embed her in his embrace.
He couldn’t kill again.
The bronze bell rang out—disciples from Yunxiao Sect and major cultivation sects would all rush over for rescue. If he didn’t go mad with demons, with Gujian Sect disciples retreating to the ancient swords, they could still resist for a while. At worst, with several elders’ help, some people could still escape…
If he continued the killing spree, he probably wouldn’t have a chance to stay clear-headed. Without clarity, he would kill indiscriminately between enemy and ally, slaughtering everyone here—Junior Sister, fellow disciples, everyone…
Then they wouldn’t have even a thread of hope for survival.
He couldn’t lose consciousness. He still wanted to destroy the Longquan Sword.
So he must remain clear-headed. Holding the corpse in his arms, Qinghe glanced at those people, raised his hand and struck with one sword, slashing before those demonic cultivators, cutting a deep ravine. “Those who cross the boundary die!”
But unexpectedly, after delivering this sword strike, Qinghe only felt a murderous aura surging skyward, his consciousness becoming momentarily blurred again.
“No wonder Gujian Sect cultivators have such high cultivation. A three-hundred-year-old cultivator can split immortal artifacts with one sword. Turns out they all practice evil methods. Now he’s gone astray and entered demonic madness?”
“This kid has such a dense, murderous aura. Compared to you, I feel like I’m a righteous great power.” A female cultivator giggled. “Why not join my Demonic Sect? I’ll make you Left Protector!”
Qinghe’s tone was sinister: “Scram!”
“I’ve crossed the boundary. What will you do?” One of the demonic great powers snorted coldly, raising his hand to grab a disciple and directly throwing him across the boundary line Qinghe had drawn. Qinghe struck with one sword, severing that demonic cultivator’s arm. He hadn’t intended to kill, just to deter the others, but couldn’t reveal that he didn’t dare harm people. So he swung his sword to cut off limbs, but unexpectedly, black qi instantly seeped into that person’s body, devouring his life in an instant.
Qinghe’s form immediately became blurred. He was about to lose control of himself again.
“Ah!”
“That demon will lose control if he continues killing, so he doesn’t dare kill!” a voice shouted.
“We can’t delay any longer. Before those righteous sects arrive, uproot the Gujian Sect completely!”
Blades and swords clashed, blood splattered. The thick, bloody stench in the air was nauseating.
Qinghe couldn’t suppress the killing intent in his heart. He could only give a long whistle and disappear as a streak of light. Otherwise, he couldn’t control himself at all.
…
Perhaps due to that fruit, Su Zhuyi felt she had a trace of strength. She pulled a pill from her storage pouch and, tremblingly, stuffed it into her mouth.
The pill dissolved in her mouth, spiritual energy slowly circulating through her body, stopping her bleeding and healing her wounds, reducing her pain slightly.
Su Zhuyi heard sounds of fighting outside—the clash of weapons, the sound of swords. Had the Demonic Path come knocking? Such convenient timing?
“Little Skull, how much longer before you can get here?” She sent weak divine consciousness into the Liuguang Mirror, hearing Little Skull say: “Miss, my body is starting to become transparent…”
But just then, a figure rushed over, shouting: “Where is the Heart Sword Stone?”
That voice contained overwhelming pressure. It made Su Zhuyi’s soul, already extremely weak, shake violently. The divine consciousness she had barely gathered to send into the Liuguang Mirror was scattered again, her sea of consciousness once more depleted.
“Did Qinghe take the Heart Sword Stone?” The newcomer shouted angrily, but paused slightly upon seeing the strange stone on the bed. Was that the Heart Sword Stone? He had seen the Heart Sword Stone before—the stone on the bed looked nothing like it.
Was it or wasn’t it?
“So it’s you.” Su Zhuyi looked at the newcomer, saying through gritted teeth.