Xing Shen hesitated, “A’Luo, let’s talk privately for a moment.”
The beacon tower was so small that there wasn’t much space for privacy, but as the two walked to a corner, the others tactfully retreated to the opposite side.
Yan Tuo wanted to follow but then thought better of it—this was Renchan Jun’s “internal matter.”
He overheard people whispering nearby.
“This Miss Luo… who is she? Why would her presence make the journey possible? Brother Shen seems to be almost begging her.”
Another suddenly realized, “Damn, could she be who I think she is? I knew it—with something this big happening, she had to show up.”
Someone else carefully guessed, “Second Miss Nie?”
Yan Tuo sighed inwardly: Nie Jiuluo’s identity couldn’t be hidden anymore. At this point, nobody was foolish.
Since Xing Shen was busy, Da Tou helped maintain order: “Who cares who she is—don’t let your guard down! Keep your eyes sharp; those things might come back any moment!”
***
Nie Jiuluo followed Xing Shen, looking suspicious.
She spoke first: “Are you suggesting I can handle the White-Eyed Ghosts?”
Xing Shen avoided her gaze but nodded.
This seemed impossible to Nie Jiuluo, and she almost laughed.
Since this was meant to be a private conversation, she lowered her voice: “I’ve seen the White-Eyed Ghosts’ speed. I know my limits—I’m not capable of this.”
Xing Shen spoke softly: “That’s because you don’t quite understand the ‘Mad Blade.'”
Time was pressing, so Xing Shen spoke plainly: “The ‘Mad Blade’ doesn’t refer to your sword but to you. The Blade Family relies on bloodline—your blood can harm Owl Ghosts, but haven’t you ever wondered why they gave you that blade? And why it was divided into Life Blade and Death Blade?”
Nie Jiuluo indeed had never thought about it. The blade had been with her for so long, mostly stored in the Flying Celestial’s blade box. She’d never been curious enough to investigate—she just used what she was given, and as for the blade’s life-death division, she’d always assumed it was some kind of ancient ceremonial thing.
She quietly listened as Xing Shen continued.
“The powder that falls when the Life Blade and Death Blade are ground together, nine grindings make one dose. When taken with water, your body will quickly react. Uncle Jiang’s manual states that within one time-Chen, you’ll be very different.”
One time-when—that meant two hours?
Nie Jiuluo’s scalp tingled: “What kind of ‘very different’? Will I transform?”
She hoped she wouldn’t become grotesque like the White-Eyed Ghosts or Owl Ghosts. Or perhaps like Ultraman?
Xing Shen chose his words carefully: “Nothing like that. Simply put, your current martial arts skills and speed are already exceptional. The ‘Mad Blade’ will help multiply your existing abilities several times over. Then you’ll be able to match or even exceed the White-Eyed Ghosts’ speed and contend with them.”
Nie Jiuluo made a sound of understanding.
It wasn’t hard to comprehend—it seemed like taking a special drug, similar to a stimulant that could quickly take someone from their normal state to peak condition, and then into an incredible combat state.
Across from them, there was a small commotion—apparently, Mantis tried to go toward the earthen wall but was harshly driven back by Feng Mi, who was leaning against the dirt pile.
Nie Jiuluo glanced that way but paid it no mind, turning back to Xing Shen: “Besides fighting ability, what else?”
“You’ll feel no pain. You won’t feel your body’s injuries, and you’ll be in a semi-maddened state.”
“What about consciousness? Will I retain my mind?”
Xing Shen nodded quickly: “Yes, you’ll maintain basic consciousness.”
Just then, someone called out fearfully, voice trembling: “Brother Shen.”
Xing Shen ignored them—from that reaction, there was probably something unusual at the perimeter again. Whatever, there were constant situations now; getting everything clear was most important.
Nie Jiuluo continued questioning: “Why did Uncle Jiang never mention any of this to me?”
Xing Shen spoke faster: “First, you never cared to ask; second, Uncle Jiang believed that walking the Green Soil Path was always safe—there’d never be any need for this.”
Someone else couldn’t hold back: “Bro-Brother Shen, it’s a White-Eyed Ghost.”
Looking in that direction, they saw a White-Eyed Ghost’s head appearing above a nearby high rampart—more precisely, they saw a pair of white glowing eyes, like two small floating lamps.
Since there was no attack yet, Nie Jiuluo seized the moment to ask the most crucial question: “What about me? Will there be side effects?”
All medicines carry some toxicity, especially this “medicine” with such powerful effects.
Xing Shen’s lips were dry, but he had to continue: “There will be some. It’s an extreme drain on the body—usually, you’ll fall ill afterward, needing some time to recover…”
Just falling ill? Nie Jiuluo felt relieved. She could handle that—a brief illness in exchange for escaping trouble and saving so many people seemed like a good deal.
But Xing Shen hadn’t finished: “However if the drain is too severe and you exceed the time limit, you might not recover and could… go mad.”
Nie Jiuluo suddenly shuddered.
Mad Blade, Mad Blade—she’d been familiar with this name since childhood but had never imagined that “mad” might one day describe her condition.
Unable to recover, going mad.
In her daze, she heard Da Tou shouting from across: “Brother Shen, this isn’t right! Please make a decision quickly!”
Nie Jiuluo snapped back to reality and looked around. A chill ran up her back, eventually turning to burning heat that made her body slightly tremble.
While the beacon tower was surrounded by standing human figures, the terrain also featured high earthen mounds and ramparts between them. After several attacks, the figures had either fallen or shattered, making the area look like a field where crops had been harvested.
White-Eyed Ghosts stood on all the high ramparts, dozens of them by rough count, all with white eyes carrying deep, cold malice in their pupils.
Among them was a small one, child-sized, sitting on the edge of a rampart with legs dangling. It kept its head down, playing with its fingernails while swaying back and forth as if humming a leisurely tune.
Besides these, Owl Ghosts were positioned both above and below the ramparts, fierce and ready to strike—Yu Rong’s taming technique clearly couldn’t affect them anymore.
This was a standard “encirclement hunt,” sealed tight on all sides with the prey trapped in the middle, ready for the slaughter.
What made it worse was that the previous rounds of cat-and-mouse attacks had depleted most of their ammunition.
Others had probably realized this too—everyone’s faces were pale, except for Feng Mi, who remained composed. She leaned against the dirt pile, using her body to add another layer of cover for Lin Xirou behind her as if leaning against a grave full of endless vitality.
Da Tou’s voice trembled: “Brother Shen, do you have a plan? What about… Miss Luo?”
Nie Jiuluo silently walked toward Yan Tuo. Xing Shen called out anxiously: “A’Luo!”
His mouth was dry as he spoke rapidly: “I’m not forcing you to sacrifice yourself for everyone… this is the quickest, most effective, highest value solution. You’re saving yourself, and saving others in the process!”
Yan Tuo listened in confusion, but his sense of unease grew stronger. He asked Nie Jiuluo as she approached: “What’s wrong?”
Nie Jiuluo didn’t answer.
After hesitating for a few seconds, she turned back to Xing Shen: “Even if my abilities multiply and I can face the White-Eyed Ghosts, I could only handle one or two at most. There are so many of them.”
From her tone, Xing Shen sensed hope and spoke excitedly, stumbling over his words: “That’s not certain—nobody knows the true capability of the Mad Blade. Besides, White-Eyed Ghosts are apex predators—they might never have met a real opponent. If you kill one, you might scare off the whole group…”
Before he could finish, Yu Rong shouted: “They’re coming!”
They were coming—this time, there was no eerie wave of sound, no prelude to the charge. The hunt simply began.
***
Enemies came from all sides, with at most three people defending each direction.
The Owl Ghosts charged straight in while the White-Eyed Ghosts leaped down from the high ramparts or dirt piles, moving like ghost shadows, their white pupils leaving streaks of light in their wake due to their extreme speed.
Nie Jiuluo’s heart tightened at the sight—she really couldn’t match this speed, even at her peak training condition she’d be left far behind.
Yan Tuo licked his lips, resolutely raised his gun, aimed at one of them, and pulled the trigger.
It was useless—the bullet whistled out and seemed certain to hit its target, but the ghost-like figure appeared to merely quiver, and the bullet missed completely.
Xing Shen and Yu Rong whistled simultaneously, one directing Mantis, the other commanding Sun Zhou.
Mantis, probably due to its species’ nature, had an innate fear of Ground Owls that were larger than itself and feared the White-Eyed Ghosts as well. Even with urgent whistle commands, it moved very hesitantly. Sun Zhou was different—after being scratched and partially transformed, he extremely despised Ground Owls and had nothing to fear, responding immediately to commands.
At the sound, Sun Zhou’s throat made a growling noise as his hair bristled. He leaped over the ruined wall like lightning, charging toward the seven or eight dark figures ahead.
Nie Jiuluo cried out involuntarily: “Hey!”
Sun Zhou had been her driver, just an ordinary person. Even after his beast transformation, she still couldn’t mentally prepare herself to watch him fighting on the front lines.
But her cry came too late. As soon as the words left her mouth, Sun Zhou had already reached the nearest Owl Ghost, ramming into it and knocking it flying before pouncing toward the second one.
Unable to hit the White-Eyed Ghosts, they’d have to deal with the Owl Ghosts instead—one down was one down. Yan Tuo shifted his gun’s aim, but just as he targeted an Owl Ghost near Sun Zhou, his vision blurred. Two White-Eyed Ghosts appeared like specters on Sun Zhou’s left and right, moving at a speed almost imperceptible to the human eye. One grabbed his leg, the other his arm, and as they leaped up, they pulled violently in opposite directions.
Yan Tuo’s blood rushed to his head—though it hadn’t happened yet, he knew what was coming.
He roared, instinctively pushing off the wall as if trying to rush forward and prevent what was about to happen. Nie Jiuluo moved faster than him—as soon as he started to rise, she had already vaulted over the ruined wall. But then came Sun Zhou’s agonized scream as blood exploded in mid-air: his arm had been forcibly torn off, flying away in an arc, while the rest of his body was thrown to the ground, rolling in agony among the shattered statues and dust.
This display of overwhelming bloodshed and physical dominance almost instantly shattered the witnesses’ fighting spirit. Despite agreeing to save their limited bullets for critical moments, everyone except Yan Tuo, Yu Rong, and a few others with more self-control began firing frantically—even knowing that emptying their guns meant death, they ground their teeth, determined to have one last moment of satisfaction before all hope was lost.
Meanwhile, the reluctant Mantis met its Waterloo. It had just pounced on an Owl Ghost and was savagely clawing at it when two or three other Owl Ghosts rushed in from the sides.
Many against one, like wolves hunting a rabbit—Mantis’s small frame instantly disappeared from view, with only the shoulders and necks of several Owl Ghosts visible as they surged and moved.
Xing Shen felt his heart burning with anxiety and shouted: “A’Luo!”
Nie Jiuluo’s mind was pounding. Setting everything else aside, Xing Shen had been right about one thing: becoming the Mad Blade was also about saving herself.
She quickly vaulted back inside the wall: “Buy me some time!”
Hearing these words, Xing Shen knew things were eight or nine-tenths decided. Both excited and grateful, he shouted: “Don’t panic! Form a circle! Give Second Miss Nie some time! There’s hope!”
Nie Jiuluo rushed to Yan Tuo’s side, drawing her blade while instructing him: “Give me water, cap off, now.”
Though confused, Yan Tuo understood the urgency—nobody would want water at a moment of life and death unless it was critically important.
He quickly took off his backpack and pulled out a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap. At the same time, hearing Xing Shen’s orders and knowing there might still be a chance for survival, the others immediately formed a small circle, protecting Nie Jiuluo and Yan Tuo in the center.
Though Feng Mi remained outside the circle, she stayed close to its edge, not straying too far.
Seeing he wouldn’t be needed in combat for the moment, Yan Tuo quickly tossed his gun to Yu Rong.
Nie Jiuluo swiftly drew her dagger, separating the Life Blade and Death Blade. It was fortunate their ancestors had passed down this method of “blade-against-blade grinding”—blade maintenance usually focused on protecting the edge, who would be bored enough to pointlessly grind blade edges together?
When about to begin grinding, she realized there was nowhere to catch the powder and urged Yan Tuo: “Your hand, palm up.”
At this moment, gunfire erupted around them, clearly indicating the enemy’s attack had reached their sides. Chills ran through Yan Tuo’s body, but he had to ignore the distraction and focus on the immediate task.
He extended his hand.
Nie Jiuluo lowered her head, hands trembling slightly as she ground the blades together as quickly as possible. As Xing Shen had said, fine powder began falling steadily.
It was truly remarkable when you thought about it: both the Life Blade and Death Blade were extraordinarily hard, normally showing no damage no matter how much they struck or scraped against things. Yet when the two edges met, they produced this effect—a perfect example of mutual generation and mutual overcoming.
Suddenly there was a space beside them—the nearest person had been dragged to the ground. Nie Jiuluo’s entire body went numb on that side. She silently counted to nine passes, then grabbed Yan Tuo’s hand and licked up all the powder.
There was no time to taste it. She grabbed the mineral water bottle and threw her head back, gulping it down.
The water was cold, running down her throat and making Nie Jiuluo shiver as she blurted out: “Yan Tuo, could you…”
—Unable to recover, she would go mad.
People should maintain the most positive attitude when facing difficulties, hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.
What if she went mad?
In a flash, she remembered the madmen she’d seen wandering the streets as a child: unkempt and filthy, in tattered clothes, drooling as they spoke, sometimes stripping naked and running through the streets when having episodes.
There was no dignity to speak of.
She didn’t want to become such a person.
But she had lost her parents early and had no reliable relatives. Old Cai was a friend, but Old Cai couldn’t bear such a burden. She didn’t know who to entrust herself to.
Yan Tuo, could you take care of me, and ensure that even if I go mad, I can maintain some dignity and not be bullied?
But this thought vanished as quickly as it had come.
Never mind.
Her relationship with Yan Tuo had only just begun, far from any “undying love, never to part” stage. What right did she have to burden him so heavily? If it were her, and a boyfriend she’d just started dating went mad, asking her to promise lifelong care—she probably couldn’t do it either.
Never mind, leave it to fate.
Yan Tuo’s expression suddenly changed as he pulled her close: “Watch out!”
Close combat had begun—guns were useless now, and besides, they were almost out of bullets. Life and death were up to fate, survival in heaven’s hands.
Looking up, there were more ghosts visible than people now. Nie Jiuluo gritted her teeth, took a blade in each hand, and targeted the nearest Owl Ghost. She swung one blade down, then kicked out while pulling the blade free.
As soon as she withdrew it, another Owl Ghost charged at her face. Nie Jiuluo was about to raise her hand when a gun stock came swinging in from the side—Yu Rong had noticed and lent a helping hand.
The two women didn’t even have time to exchange glances before returning to their separate battles. At this moment, the air was filled with screams of agony, eerie laughter, and shouting. People were constantly being dragged to the ground, rolling and grappling in tangles.
Nie Jiuluo had just knocked over an Owl Ghost when a white flash appeared before her—a White-Eyed Ghost lunging straight at her.
This was her first time facing a White-Eyed Ghost up close, and she had to admit, they looked very human-like yet fundamentally different: their pupils were relatively expanded, their upper and lower eyelids thick and everted. Perhaps from being apex predators for so long, the area around their mouths was relatively developed, and when they bared their teeth, you could see they were sharper.
Also, the White-Eyed Ghosts wore clothes.
However, these weren’t finely tailored fabrics or any particular style—just wrapped around their bodies, and the material didn’t look like cloth, more like lichen or similar organisms.
Here it comes—now that it’s right in front of me, I refuse to believe I can’t hurt you.
Nie Jiuluo clenched her teeth, flipped her blade, and chopped toward the White-Eyed Ghost’s face. But before the blade tip could even brush its face, a sudden cramping pain seized her abdomen.
Not just cramping—spasms wracked her entire body. Nie Jiuluo could barely move her feet, her blade-holding hand twitching uncontrollably. The White-Eyed Ghost’s claws sank into her left shoulder, practically lifting her and throwing her away.
Nearby, Yan Tuo had just dealt with an Owl Ghost when he glimpsed Nie Jiuluo’s body flying through the air. His heart lurched, and without thinking, he dove to catch her but missed by inches, watching helplessly as she was thrown clear. Cold sweat broke out as he prepared to climb the ruined wall after her when sudden pain exploded in his shoulder as he fell backward—another White-Eyed Ghost had appeared from behind, grabbed him, and slammed him to the ground.
***
As for Nie Jiuluo, after flying through the air and crashing to the ground, she surprisingly felt no pain. However, her body continued convulsing uncontrollably, and she couldn’t even catch her breath.
Dark figures loomed over her, seemingly two Owl Ghosts. They appeared confused by her spinning-top-like convulsions and momentarily forgot to drag her away.
Nie Jiuluo felt violently nauseous, white foam leaking from the corners of her mouth. A strange taste spread from her chest to her lips—probably the lingering flavor of the powder ground from the Life and Death Blades.
In her daze, the various noises grew faint, as if a sound-dampening membrane separated her from everyone else. Nie Jiuluo turned her head and saw a bloody, half-eaten skeleton nearby.
The skeleton was small—was that Mantis?
The dark figures loomed again, and this time she was being dragged, swaying as if on a boat, with what sounded like the echo of oars in her ears, stroke after stroke.
She didn’t know how many strokes had passed when suddenly, it felt as if a powerful surge of blood rushed straight to the top of her skull, and her eyes flew open.
The field of vision that should have been pitch black suddenly blazed bright as day, though it seemed covered by a swirling crimson mist that stirred up murderous intentions from the depths of her soul.