In the early morning, within the Wufang Immortal Sect.
The demon-subduing bell hanging by the Immortal Lord’s window suddenly chimed clear and crisp. Standing outside, the spirit sword Xianyan’s flame-like eyes flickered slightly as it gazed at the cold immortal cultivator meditating inside.
Chang Wu slowly opened his eyes and formed a hand seal. The demon-subduing bell by the window flew into his hand with a gentle tinkling, trembling as if afraid of something.
“Xianyan, did Jiwu let Er Sheng follow those sorcerers?”
Xianyan walked in from outside and respectfully answered, “Yes.”
Chang Wu issued a cold rebuke: “My disciples truly grow more foolish by the day.”
Xianyan lowered his head in silence. Chang Wu swept his wide sleeves and walked toward the hall’s exterior. “Transform to the sword,” he commanded. Xianyan’s body flashed with flames, instantly becoming a three-foot-long sword. Its blade burned like the blazing sun—edges gleaming gold and crimson while the body shone white, dazzling to behold.
Chang Wu swept his sleeve again, mounted the sword, and his figure instantly vanished from the room.
The morning light fell in scattered patches through the wilderness, where the slaughter had ceased.
Dismembered limbs littered the ground, soaking the earth with blood and viscous green poison.
Chang Yuan’s face was ashen, with small black dragon scales emerging on his skin. His eyes were tightly shut, sweat pouring like rain, too weak to move. He could only let Er Sheng support him as they sat beneath a tree. Blood dripped from the Yi Lin sword onto their clothes, blooming like flowers, though none of it belonged to either of them.
Er Sheng expressionlessly wiped the blood from the sword’s blade. Her pupils were crimson, her gaze utterly empty. She touched Chang Yuan’s cheek, but the blood on her palm smeared his face. Er Sheng froze, trying to clean it with her sleeve, but only made his face messier. The cold sweat on his forehead ran down his cheeks, blending with the blood to leave tear-like trails.
He looked to be in extreme pain. Er Sheng thought that perhaps she should kill everyone who made Chang Yuan suffer. Then, when Chang Yuan felt better, she wouldn’t hurt anymore either.
Gripping the Yi Lin sword tighter, Er Sheng stepped over numerous arms and legs to reach Imperial Envoy Huang Cheng.
Last night, she had only killed the sorcerers maintaining the formation, not touching these useless soldiers.
“Get up,” she said coldly. But how could those knocked unconscious by the mighty dragon qi hear her words? None of the prone figures responded.
The thought flashed through Er Sheng’s mind that if she severed their limbs or carved out their internal organs, the pain would surely wake them. She raised the Yi Lin sword and measured it against Envoy Huang Cheng’s arm. The blade’s killing intent was overwhelming—even before touching skin, it made mortals feel extreme oppression.
Huang Cheng groaned and struggled to open his eyes. Still dazed, he met Er Sheng’s god of death-like gaze. His heart pounded in terror as he looked around at the scene of carnage, immediately wetting himself in fear.
“Im-Immortal! Please spare me! Please spare my life!”
“Where’s the antidote?”
“Wh-what antidote?”
Er Sheng glanced at Chang Yuan and said, “The poison you gave Chang Yuan. Hand over the antidote and I’ll spare you. Otherwise…” The Yi Lin sword swept out, carving a long, deep crack in the ground ten yards away. “I’ll split you in half.”
Huang Cheng’s face turned ashen, his whole body trembling violently. He wept, “Immortal, this humble official was only following His Majesty’s orders to… to invite you both. I know nothing else!”
Er Sheng narrowed her eyes slightly, her blood-red pupils seemingly about to drip blood: “Lies.” With that, she raised the Yi Lin sword slightly.
The usually domineering official instantly turned pale as earth, utterly terrified: “Immortal! Immortal! Please show mercy! I’ll tell everything, I’ll confess everything honestly.” He kowtowed on the ground, tears and mucus flowing freely. “This official dared disturb the two Immortals at Wufang because imperial orders cannot be defied. His Majesty heard that the true form of a divine dragon appeared in Ao City, and not long after, the troops stationed at Ao City’s borders were attacked. He couldn’t help but suspect rebellious traitors were plotting something. But since the matter involved the Wufang Immortal Sect, a sacred cultivation ground, His Majesty dared not be careless and entrusted the matter to the Imperial Preceptor. These sorcerers… these sorcerers were all disciples of the Imperial Preceptor. The antidote the Immortal speaks of must be in the Imperial Preceptor’s possession.”
“Where is the Imperial Preceptor?”
“The capital city.”
Er Sheng sheathed the Yi Lin sword, turned to carry Chang Yuan on her back, and flew away on her sword.
Huang Cheng trembled on the ground for a long while. After some time had passed in silence, he suddenly heard breathing from the soldiers beside him. Overjoyed, he immediately began slapping the soldiers’ faces hard to wake them.
Suddenly, a white light flashed overhead—Er Sheng had returned with Chang Yuan on her back, landing before him.
“Im-Immortal, this official truly told everything.” Thinking Er Sheng had returned to silence him, grief overwhelmed him as he thought of his elderly mother, wife, children, and several beautiful concubines. He broke down sobbing, “Really… told everything!”
Er Sheng glared at him: “You fool, how dare you not tell me which direction the capital is!”
Huang Cheng was stunned for a moment: “North… northeast.”
Er Sheng said no more, mounting her sword and flying away, never to return.
Huang Cheng stared dumbly at the two figures rapidly disappearing from view, thinking: Could someone so muddle-headed kill people? He looked back at the dismembered corpses strewn about, and the pungent stench permeating the air made him shudder to his core. He hurriedly slapped the soldiers beside him hard: “Useless! All of you are useless! Quick, get up and flee while you can!”
When Chang Wu arrived in the wilderness, he saw only the dead.
His brow creased imperceptibly as he stepped onto the ground, the wet earth immediately staining his pristine white robes.
He recalled hazily how many years ago, upon learning his junior brother Chang An had fallen to demonic cultivation for the third time, he had already placed his sword against Chang An’s throat. Yet he withdrew his blade when faced with those emotionless eyes. That person had been his childhood companion, as close as his flesh and blood.
The cold-faced Immortal Lord Chang Wu had always been soft-hearted. But that moment of mercy had planted the seeds of disaster for Liubo. For dozens of days, karmic flames reduced Liubo Immortal Mountain to ashes, countless lives perishing in the inferno…
The horrific scenes of that time seemed to overlap with this present field of carnage.
Once again, because of his soft heart…
Chang Wu’s fist gradually clenched within his wide sleeve. He thought that he certainly could no longer honor the two-month agreement. When next he saw Er Sheng, he would kill her directly.
The Xianyan sword beside him transformed back into human form. Seeing such a scene, Xianyan’s brow also furrowed. He crouched down to examine the corpses’ wounds, his expression growing more grave.
“Immortal Lord, something is strange.”
“Oh?”
“These wounds contain traces of demonic energy, very subtle, but seeping from beneath flesh and skin.” Xianyan said, “These people must have practiced unorthodox cultivation methods in life, walking the path of evil qi.”
Hearing this, Chang Wu was also somewhat surprised. When these sorcerers had come to Wufang earlier, he hadn’t sensed any demonic energy from them, and each one’s spiritual power had been weak. With that level of cultivation, it would have been impossible to deceive him. So why… Thinking further, the timing of these court officials’ arrival had been too convenient. While at Wufang, Er Sheng had been focused on finding ways to break demonic influence, so why had she immediately lost control and killed so many people upon leaving? There must have been other factors at play.
Three years ago, the power of the demonic spirit pearl within Er Sheng had already been suppressed. What had caused her to fall to demonic cultivation now—was it coincidence or had someone deliberately induced it? If someone had lured Er Sheng to demonic cultivation, what was their purpose?
“Immortal Lord, shall we continue pursuing Er Sheng?”
Chang Wu frowned in thought: “We don’t know where they’ve gone now. Let’s return to Wufang first, order the disciples to search everywhere, and keep watch for any unusual occurrences in the world.”
Xianyan bowed his head in acceptance.
Looking at the corpses strewn about, Chang Wu suddenly recalled how three years ago, after the zombie outbreak, Ji Ling had told him they’d seen the fallen immortal Chang An. Chang An had said the world wouldn’t remain peaceful for much longer.
Chang Wu thought, that his junior brother who had ascended to immortality three times and fallen to demonic cultivation three times must have glimpsed some heavenly dao to give such a warning…