All attackers had withdrawn from Meihua Village, but the fire still raged. Acrid smoke permeated the air, and buildings lay in ruins. Mo Sigui made his way to the stable, only to find it filled with horse carcasses. Left with no choice, he set out on foot to pursue.
Reaching the valley entrance in the dim night, Mo Sigui saw a large fire burning, with a dark mass blocking the path. Cautiously approaching through the dry underbrush, he realized at ten zhang away that it was a pile of corpses.
Directly across from the corpse pile stood a tall figure, leaning on a sword. His black hair was disheveled, and his clothes were so blood-soaked their original color was indiscernible. The flames were about to engulf him.
“Master Mo!” Mo Sigui recognized his sword and rushed into the fire without hesitation.
Receiving no response, Mo Sigui checked for a pulse. The skin was warm, but there was no beat. The surrounding fire made it impossible to determine how long ago death had occurred.
Mo Sigui’s heart sank. He released his grip and began frantically searching through the corpse pile.
An Jiu had been traveling with Master Mo! He needed to find her, dead or alive.
“Mei Fourteen! Mei Jiu! An Jiu!” Mo Sigui muttered chaotically. He paused, suddenly remembering the tracking scent he had placed on An Jiu before their separation.
He reached for the small gourd at his waist and released over a dozen butterflies.
This was a common tracking method in the jianghu. The butterflies were raised with a poisonous fragrance, allowing them to survive in winter and fly purposefully. However, their slow speed limited their effective tracking range to ten li.
The butterflies circled the valley entrance once. Eight or nine were incinerated by the fire, while the rest began flying outward. Mo Sigui’s heart leaped with joy as he followed, clutching his medicine box.
After a few steps, he turned back and bowed to Master Mo. “I’m sorry!”
Mo Sigui’s deepest connection in Mei Manor had been with Elder Qi, which was why he had buried him before leaving, despite his worry for An Jiu. Now, finding An Jiu took precedence, as there was still hope she might be alive.
After paying his respects, he hurriedly followed the butterflies.
About a quarter-hour later, he encountered someone on the path as the butterflies halted their flight.
Mo Sigui recognized Mei Ruyan and hurried to meet her. Both felt their hearts sink upon seeing each other.
“Where’s Fourteen?”
“Have you seen Master Mo?”
The butterflies fluttered around Mei Ruyan as she grasped Mo Sigui, urgently asking, “Coming from the valley entrance, did you see Master Mo?”
“I did,” Mo Sigui paused, then said softly, “He’s dead.”
“What… what did you say?” Mei Ruyan asked, even as tears began streaming down her face.
“My condolences. His body is still at the valley entrance. If you hurry, you can see him one last time,” Mo Sigui said, assuming their deep master-disciple bond was the cause of her distress. He could only offer perfunctory words of comfort.
Concerned for An Jiu’s safety, Mo Sigui pressed, “Where’s Fourteen?”
“Chu Dingjiang took her,” Mei Ruyan said tersely before stumbling towards Meihua Village.
The butterflies followed her for two zhangs before returning.
“Who is Chu Dingjiang? Where did they go?” Mo Sigui called out.
Mei Ruyan didn’t respond. He watched her retreating figure, hesitated for a moment, then followed the butterflies.
Though he had rarely used tracking butterflies, Mo Sigui had complete faith in his abilities.
Across the vast wilderness, several fire-damaged butterflies fluttered and fell in the wind. Mo Sigui pressed on tirelessly, oblivious to his wounds scabbing over and reopening repeatedly. His focus remained anxiously fixed on the last remaining butterfly.
The sky began to lighten, tinged with a faint red as if stained with blood.
Halfway up a mountain stood a residence, its corner lantern still emitting a weak glow.
The entire property consisted of just three stone houses. A dilapidated fence enclosed a courtyard, with a crude shed in the northeast corner covering a stove made of rubble and mud.
A man in tight-fitting clothes squatted before the stove, idly stoking the fire. Steam rose from the pot, filling the air with the aroma of rice.
Sensing the rice was nearly done, he extinguished the fire and entered the house.
Without lighting a lamp, he navigated the dim room unerringly to the bedside. He stood there with folded arms, either deep in thought or watching the woman lying on the bed.
Only when a faint noise came from outside did he stir?
“Commander, here’s the medicine you requested,” someone said from beyond the door.
“Leave it there,” he replied, his voice hoarse.
“Yes, sir!” The person set down a package and continued, “Commander, you should return quickly. There’s a meeting at the Konghe Supervisorate. I’ve learned that some are proposing to punish you, and even the Privy Council is involved.”
The man inside the room, his eyes hidden in the darkness, replied, “I understand. I have my plans. Tell the others that as long as their hearts remain loyal to me, they should prioritize self-preservation. Keep your passion and loyalty in your hearts, not on your faces.”
The messenger understood Chu Dingjiang’s meaning: remind them not to be reckless, and to yield when necessary.
“Yes, sir! Take care, Commander.” The man lingered briefly in the corridor, ensuring Chu Dingjiang had no further instructions before departing.
Chu Dingjiang sat on the edge of the bed, reaching under the covers to find a slender wrist. He gently placed his fingers on it.
The pulse was faint, almost imperceptible. He couldn’t detect any meridians, as if the body was suspended in a state of chaos.
Chu Dingjiang found this strange. How could a mere injury and poisoning cause such a condition?
He recalled experiencing something similar when breaking through to the ninth level and reaching the realm of transformation. If one could endure it, a life force would emerge from the chaos, elevating one to a new level.
For most ninth-level martial artists, this opportunity came only once in a lifetime. Failing the first breakthrough made subsequent attempts even more challenging. The heart was at its strongest when returning to its true state, impervious to external influences, yet also at its most vulnerable. It couldn’t tolerate even the slightest impurity. Any inherent flaws were extremely difficult to eliminate in this chaotic state.
At least, there had been no known successful breakthroughs under such circumstances.
Chu Dingjiang channeled his internal energy into An Jiu, confirming that her internal energy was negligible. Unless… her spiritual energy was about to break through!
Considering this possibility, Chu Dingjiang silently withdrew. He ate a hasty meal before heading to the nearby woods to practice his skills.
Days passed.
An Jiu felt as if she had been walking in darkness for an eternity. Her body was exhausted as if filled with lead. Each step left her drenched in sweat.
Just as she was about to rest, a low, mellow male voice reached her ears: “Why not throw her in the pond and let her drown?”
An Jiu instinctively knew he was referring to her. Anger welled up, and suddenly, a faint red light appeared before her eyes.