“You courting death?”
Bai Luoluo’s brows drew together, her fingers fluttering like butterflies as she wove a Daoist seal.
From the heavens descended the vast image of a mountain, plummeting towards Chen Zongping as if to crush an ant.
Kong Yun lunged forward with his sword, aiming to shatter the vision, but he was only in the late Foundation Building Stage and could not guarantee the man’s safety.
“Lend me a hand!” he barked.
But the onlookers all took a step back. In the cultivation world, when someone brought disaster upon themselves, the last thing you wanted was to be splattered with their blood—lest no one dared to claim your corpse when your turn came.
Kong Yun turned his head. Clarity returned to his gaze, followed swiftly by cold detachment.
He withdrew his strike. His kin had sent him to retrieve Daoist arts, not to stick his neck out for strangers. If the human race themselves would not help their own, why should he?
In their eyes, anyone reckless enough to draw a blade against the immortal sect’s eldest shijie was already as good as dead. Even if they survived by some miracle, they would be of no further use.
Who would aid someone with no future?
The light of the Golden Feather Sword faltered. The mountain image met less resistance, slamming down with a deafening crash. Chen Zongping dropped to one knee, bone shattering, blood spraying in all directions.
Kong Yun hesitated—then his grip on the Golden Feather Sword tightened. The plumes at his temples bristled upright, multiplying rapidly. Wendao blade’s sword-qi roared to life, forcing the mountain image upwards, inch by stubborn inch.
Bai Luoluo smiled, palms coming together with a clap. “Do you truly think you can harm me? A beast, and a mere junior disciple?”
Blood traced the corner of Kong Yun’s mouth, yet he remained steady, even smiling. “And you? Do you rely on your parents?”
The disciples of Xiaofeng and the rest had been driven back by the mountain’s oppressive force, leaving Bai Luoluo alone. Her expression soured. She had not come here to be challenged. After a pause, she said with cool condescension,
“Truth be told, I can’t quite see why you’re all so angry.”
“My forebear destroyed the corrupt Xianghuo Divine Dao, a deed of unmatched merit. A thousand generations of effort laid the foundation for today’s peace. The Eastern Lands still stand because of my ancestor’s grace. My clan preserved its legacy; yours did not. How is that my fault?”
“And if you look down on Wendao Palace, why join our sect at all? If you refuse the discipline of the immortal clan, you’re welcome to walk away.”
Bai Luoluo’s smile turned faint and cutting. “Instead you cling on, taking all the benefits while offering no return, peddling slander and sowing discord. Such hearts deserve to be stamped out.”
Kong Yun drew breath to retort, when a hoarse, low voice broke in.
Chen Zongping’s organs had been shattered; blood streamed from nose and lips. His shijie fought desperately to reach him, but could not breach the mountain’s image. Propping himself on his sword, he rasped, “It’s not that we wished to come here. You forced us. You cut off the Dao of the Eastern Lands.”
He took another halting step. The once-bright youth was now all wounds and blood. “Why did Shifu die? Because he went to collect taxes for your immortal sect, fell into a trap, and was beaten to death.”
“And why did I come?”
“Because you declared that outside Wendao Palace, we may not hold Daoist scriptures, Daoist methods, Daoist texts.”
“‘The Eastern Lands gather the worthies’—how grand. But Wendao Palace has but ten thousand disciples. Where, then, did the hundreds of millions of Daoist texts come from?”
Lifting his blood-stained face, he gave a thin smile. “If not for that, who would willingly come to this wretched place…”
Before his words had faded, he moved to unleash a strange sword style. The weapon was nothing special; the sword itself, utterly ordinary.
What was not ordinary was the Dao it carried. One he had comprehended himself.
Swift as the wind, fierce as the thunder. The blade tore through the mountain’s Dao image, pierced Bai Luoluo’s seal. It was too quick for most to register, and forced the haughty girl’s face to blanch as she stumbled back.
The sword-light sliced her skirt, halting just before it touched skin.
And with that, the boy’s life-fire went out. The mountain’s towering image shattered in the brilliance of his strike.
Kong Yun’s eyes went to him. Chen Zongping sagged against his sword, head bowed, then toppled backwards—straight-backed even in death.
Kong Yun turned aside, unwilling to watch.
The surrounding cultivators were more unmoved than shocked…… until a sudden wail split the air, a cry like a blade rending the soul. It speared into Kong Yun’s Dao-heart. He gripped the Golden Feather Sword, silent, but his aura climbed higher and higher.
Bai Luoluo glanced down, uneasy. Her skirt was torn, bare skin glimmering pale beneath; she shivered faintly and scanned the crowd.
Ah Zhu, ever simple, ever silent, sat clutching her shidi’s corpse. No matter how she called, his chest did not rise again.
The girl belatedly realised what was unfolding and suddenly turned her gaze to Bai Luoluo. Her eyes blazed with fierce, violent rage. The expression on her face no longer one of sorrow or anger, but filled entirely with hatred and bitterness.
She thirsted for revenge, desperate to make her foe pay dearly. This intense hatred burned within her chest like an unquenchable fire. “I will kill you!”
The girl, once rough-around-the-edges, never one to utter harsh words, always diligent and patiently enduring her shidi’s jibes with a silly smile, now wore the face of a demon.
Among the cultivators, some looked crestfallen. First, a female cultivator quietly stepped away from the group and approached Ah Zhu. Gradually, others began drifting away from their original factions. The female cultivator intercepted Ah Zhu.
Those left behind hesitated: some stood firm, others hid anxiously, fearful of being caught in the fallout.
Kong Yun thought to himself, I’m afraid this lesson is over.
Zhuo Qingyuan said to Lang Cui, “You were right. There’s been another death. Bai Luoluo’s as stubborn as her father.”
Lang Cui coughed twice in reply.
Bai Luoluo struck again. Human memory is short; it’s simpler to wipe them all out at once. She was merely sending a warning to these wavering disciples. No method was off limits.
The Dao Seal was close to completion.
Suddenly, Kong Yun heard a familiar voice: “Xiao Yun-gege.”
For some reason, his heart eased. He looked up and saw a familiar figure riding a small white cloud, hair tied with a red ribbon. It was clear that he just arrived.
Kong Yun called out, “Come down and help!”
Without a word, Xue Cuo seized the white cloud, drifting down like a leaf, and landed on the ground.
Bai Luoluo looked him over, unable to hold back a laugh as she clasped her hands behind her back. “Where did you come from? Reinforcements?”
Watching from the side, Zhuo Qingyuan folded his fan. “Oh no, it’s that brat! Should I warn Bai Luoluo?”
Lang Cui covered his mouth. “Are you that kind-hearted.”
Zhuo Qingyuan smiled lazily. “They are fellow disciples after all… But her father’s been on good terms with the immortals lately. No need to risk offending her. Forget it.”
The two watched coldly.
Bai Luoluo was intent on killing someone. To do that, she’d have to pass by Xue Cuo, who had just descended. But how could the immortal sect’s eldest shijie detour now? Age or no age, she cared nothing for Xue Cuo’s presence.
The silver bells in her hand jingled sharply. “Don’t block me!”
Xue Cuo crossed his arms, glanced at the corpse on the ground, then back at Bai Luoluo. “Did you kill him?”
Nearby, Xiaofeng, recognising Xue Cuo’s strength and hoping to curry favour, hastened to say, “Shijie didn’t beat him to death. He died from anger.”
“Yes, he died from anger!”
Xue Cuo muttered softly, “Died from anger…”
Slowly, Ah Zhu lifted her head. Tears had dried; there was no sign of life in her gaze… only the clench of her jaw, teeth grinding audibly. “All of you…”
Xiaofeng blurted, “It’s really the honest truth!”
Kong Yun let out a bitter laugh. In three days at Wendao Palace he had seen more filth than in a century of cultivation.
“You humans… reeking, every one of you. And every one of you deserves death.”
Bai Luoluo had no interest in such exchanges, but a disciple who was uncertain about Xue Cuo’s identity and eager to curry favour pointed her way. “Eldest shijie, this is the one who preached in the clouds yesterday!”
Her eyes narrowed. “So you’re the one who spread false scripture yesterday.”
Kong Yun had suffered a slight internal injury from protecting Chen Zongping, but peacock blood was strong. He had already noticed: Bai Luoluo had made this commotion for an age, and no one from Fei’e Palace had intervened. Clearly, they condoned it—because of Xue Cuo’s sermon.
Grinding his teeth, anger boiled in his chest. Fearing Xue Cuo would be ambushed, he stepped in front of him.
“And what do you intend to do?”
Bai Luoluo arched a brow and produced a little jade-green vial. A Dao-rich fragrance rose from it, enough to make one’s mouth water.
But Xue Cuo’s face blanched. He backed away at once, covering his mouth, nearly retching. “What is that? It stinks.”
Bai Luoluo snapped, “What did you say?”
His eyes watered, pallor stark against his skin, knees threatening to buckle. “It stinks. Stinks to high heaven. What is that thing?”
Stinks?
The onlookers exchanged puzzled glances.
Wendao Pills was certainly fragrant, so much so that a single whiff felt as though one’s soul might float away. It was enough to make him wish he could swallow the entire bottle.
Bai Luoluo flared up in fury, all composure lost. “How dare you insult the Wendao Pills!”
Kong Yun half-supported the swaying Xue Cuo, anxiously pinching his philtrum. Xue Cuo didn’t appear as though he was acting. It looked like he was moments from passing out.
A towering mountain Dao image appeared out of thin air, crashing down with a roar.
Xue Cuo could bear it no longer. “Even your Dao image stinks! I can’t stand it!”
He pushed Kong Yun aside, and his twelvefold spiritual platform unfurled in magnificent splendour. Upon it stood forests and rare trees, sweet-scented grasses and spirit fungus; a golden pond strewn with lotus blossoms; and a thousand subtle harmonies weaving through the air.
Though Bai Luoluo’s cultivation was two realms higher, the moment her Dao image brushed against Xue Cuo’s, it burst apart like a bubble.
Dao clashed with Dao.
Bai Luoluo didn’t last a heartbeat.
The silver bell in her hand shattered, and she herself crashed to the ground in disarray.
Kong Yun stared at the twelvefold platform, his expression wooden. “You’re the Old Heaven Lord’s illegitimate son, aren’t you? One night, twelve layers?”
Xue Cuo burst into tears, pressing Little White Cloud to his nose, unable to stand from weeping. “Xiao Yun, it reeks.”
That soul-searing stench rolled over him in waves, smothering him utterly. In that instant, he would have gladly been born without a nose.
Kong Yun, a little numb now, let Xue Cuo fall into his arms. His own expression turned odd. Strangely, the smell seemed to ease for Xue Cuo.
Then, inexplicably, Kong Yun caught the faintest whiff himself. A cautious sniff… and he instantly clamped a hand over his nose. Around them, the other cultivators’ faces shifted; they leapt to their feet, searching for the source.
The foulest thing was……
Was……
The bottle of Wendao Pills and Bai Luoluo……
Sweat poured down Bai Luoluo’s face. Her eyes glazed. In her mind’s eye loomed a shadow robed in starlight, head pillowed upon a ship’s rudder; a divine bird so august and stern that none could meet its gaze; and a strange river of nine twists and eighteen bends, surging endlessly on.
She saw seas turn to mulberry fields and back again in a single breath. She saw mountains and rivers collapse, and the earth bleed.
Vast Dao she had never before witnessed pressed down upon her like one crushing range after another. Sweat streamed from her in torrents; her heart wavered; and a full realm of cultivation shattered to dust.
What was this? What in the heavens?
She snatched at the Wendao Pills. The more she consumed, it would restore her, as always. No panic. But……
She gagged. The stench—gods, the stench—was pouring out of her own mouth.
With a scream, the Wendao Pill in her hand curdled into black blood.
Her face drained of colour. She bolted, fleeing in disarray upon her cloud.
The surrounding disciples exchanged baffled looks. A few prodded gingerly at the pills Bai Luoluo had left behind; the blackened spheres reeked unbearably.
Those who had earlier accepted pills from her scrambled to unstopper their bottles… only to double over retching, clutching at the railings as they vomited without end.
Xue Cuo swayed, dizzy from the stink. Kong Yun fanned him with a winged hand. “Hurry and quit your pretending.”
Silent tears trickled down Xue Cuo’s cheeks. “…Not pretending… Xiao Yun… knock me out…”
The reek drove the cultivators scattering in all directions. Only one female cultivator remained, keeping company with Ah Zhu. Her face expressionless, Ah Zhu walked past Xue Cuo, her shidi’s body on her back.
Suddenly, Xue Cuo sat bolt upright and caught at her sleeve.
Ah Zhu looked down. Xue Cuo, dazed, murmured, “The smell’s gone.”
He raised his head to her. Kong Yun was worried that he wasn’t aware of what happened, leaned close, whispering a few words into his ear.
Xue Cuo’s brow furrowed; his eyes reddened.
Ah Zhu gently freed herself from his grasp. Never again in her life could she take in another, nor show kindness to anyone. She wanted nothing… nothing but revenge.
She turned towards the mountain gate with her burden.
A voice called her from behind. She turned. Two children were running towards her—one who had helped her earlier, and one who had driven off Bai Luoluo. The boy, hair in twin flower-buns, hesitated, then came forward.
“Jiejie… I’m not sure if I should… but this might help you.”
He took Ah Zhu’s hand and slipped her a blue talisman. Lowering his voice, he said, “If you want your shidi to live on… somewhere else… use this talisman. They say that all souls who pass away by the Great Loch belong to Her. Her full honour is: The Naturally Wondrous, Merciful and Stern, Dao-Responding Goddess of the Great Loch.”
