Kou En felt a faint stir of fear, but anger quickly followed. Why was he being looked at like that?
He was too merciful.
Yes, far too merciful. Every time he drew his sword it was swift and clean, without any wasted motion, leaving the “herbs” without a sound of suffering.
He would not shatter their bones inch by inch to stimulate their potency, nor torment them with cursed talismans, nor peel them open piece by piece to preserve their vitality.
He preferred gentler methods, ways that did not make them feel pain.
All things under heaven have feeling. When these ginseng, raised in the soil, ripen, they are harvested. Kou En had seen it since childhood, and grown used to it. Yet he never liked the brutal, callous ways others used.
They were people. Cultivators. And as cultivators, one should at least hold to a basic sense of decency.
If one only seizes and ravages, what difference is there from a beast?
He had done well, yet he was repaid like this. A sword had torn his skin, and he had felt his own blood.
Kou En lowered his gaze and sighed softly. “You have forced me to this.”
He no longer relied on his protective treasure. A mere disciple in the Foundation Building Stage—he was beneath his notice. Kou En resolved to give the boy a lesson.
The rain fell on and on.
A strip of skin floated in a quiet puddle. Gentle ripples spread across the surface, reflecting the black night sky, the drifting nebulae, and a dragon gliding through grey rain-mist, its roar shaking the heavens.
A flicker of frosted green steel shone in the puddle, moving slowly, step by step, closer.
Zhu Xiaoyou’s black hair streamed in the wind, the tassel on his sword lifting lightly, and bright raindrops slid from its shining edge.
“What is your name?”
“What?”
“Your name. I mean to bury my friend, and I had best tell him that I have slain his enemy.”
Kou En could not help but laugh. “You… mean to kill me? My father is an elder of the Immortal Sect, my mother the incarnation of a spirit herb. And you think you can kill me?”
Zhu Xiaoyou’s gaze burned with killing intent. “If you won’t say, it doesn’t matter. I’ll still avenge those who float here.”
Kou En almost wanted to laugh aloud, but such rudeness was beneath him. He merely pressed his lips and said coolly, “Why? You… are only raw ingredients.”
Bloodshot eyes glared at him. Zhu Xiaoyou’s muscles tightened, his fingers brushed the blade. “Thank you.”
Kou En frowned. Was this boy mad?
Zhu Xiaoyou said, “You’ve shown me that no manner of killing you could be too much.”
Kou En sneered, confident. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll see you die easily.”
Sword-light flashed. Steel rang free. Both men drew at once.
Kou En’s sword was a treasure of the highest grade: a blade of azure mystery, its mouth bound with celestial gold, sharp enough to cut iron as though it were mud.
With it, he was unstoppable.
Zhu Xiaoyou drew his own blade too. His was far humbler, brought from the mortal world. It had no spirit, only rust.
The sword swept out.
Two fingers fell to the ground, blood spilling in a rush.
The azure blade dropped.
A shriek tore through the air, loud enough to drown the dragon’s roar above.
Zhu Xiaoyou stepped towards Kou En. When he lifted his sword, Kou En flared his protective treasure, hurling him back with brutal force.
Kou En’s eyes bulged, his face streaming with sweat. He stared, dazed, weeping, as he gathered the severed fingers from the ground.
He fumbled for pills, but Zhu Xiaoyou staggered to his feet again.
Panic gripped Kou En. He summoned a small cauldron. This was his life-bound artefact. Trembling, he said, “Don’t come any closer.”
The cauldron swelled into a great bronze tripod. Upon its surface flowed ancient patterns—Kui dragon, taotie, bian beasts*—Daoist sigils flickering into three vast heads, glaring forward with predatory eyes.
(*TN: these are mythical and legendary creatures.)
Zhu Xiaoyou grunted, swinging his sword once more.
Agony shot through Kou En’s mangled fingers; he no longer wished to fight. He raised the cauldron and smashed it down, trying to drive Zhu Xiaoyou back.
Blood ran from Zhu Xiaoyou’s nose and mouth, dripping from his thin jaw onto the ground.
Step by step, he dragged the frost-green sword forward.
Blood-red droplets slid from the blade, falling onto the floating strip of skin.
The sword blazed like fire, thunderous in its intent. It cleaved hard against the tripod, sending a shudder through the massive vessel.
Kou En gasped in horror, panting as he summoned the Three-Spirit Cauldron once again.
Without this treasure he would already be dead. Fear gave way to rage, then to clarity.
This person was far too dangerous.
If he didn’t dispose of him, he would soon threaten the standing of the entire Immortal Sect. If that time came, the Sect itself might fall!
Kou En bellowed: “Today I shall carry out Heaven’s will!”
Zhu Xiaoyou could not break the Three-Spirit Cauldron, its aura weighed down by the power of ancient beasts. But he would not stop.
He struck again.
And was thrown back.
He struck again!
And was repelled once more.
Zhu Xiaoyou leaned upon his blade and suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood. Thin threads of scarlet seeped from between his teeth. He wiped them away calmly, then gathered his strength once more.
Suddenly—
A string of Buddhist beads arced through the rain and landed upon the hilt of the green frost-coloured longsword.
Zhu Xiaoyou’s head snapped up.
Not far away stood a youth in yellow robes, his features strikingly fine, his brows and eyes cool as frost. Upon his back rested an elegant ancient sword. He strode forward through wind and rain.
“Spiritual treasure against spiritual treasure, then it’s fair.”
Kou En’s brows drew together. The boy seemed strangely familiar, yet alien. Warily, he stepped back a few paces. His gaze fixed upon the beads, and suddenly his expression changed.
“You’re Taiyi Sect’s Young Master Xin Pu*!”
(*TN: “xin” means“heart” and “pu” means“Bodhisattva”. At this point of the translation, I’m assuming it’s a dharma or cultivation name/ title.)
The youth in yellow spared him not the slightest glance. His eyes swept across the flayed skins upon the ground, before he asked Zhu Xiaoyou, “Shall I strike in your stead?”
Zhu Xiaoyou shook his head.
The yellow-robed youth lowered his gaze in faint disappointment, then said simply, “Wear the Buddha beads.”
Zhu Xiaoyou was silent for a time. At last he slipped the beads onto his wrist. From them spread layer upon layer of lotus blossoms in Daoist resonance, forming a tranquil, harmonious image of the Dao that enclosed him at its centre.
The wounds across his body began to mend. He tore off his hairband and bound his sword-hand tightly to the hilt.
A chill premonition of dread seized Kou En. His brow throbbed wildly.
“What are you going to do?!”
Zhu Xiaoyou laughed aloud, leapt high into the air, and cleaved down with all his might: “Carrying out Heaven’s will! Slay every last fiend!”
Bang—
With a thunderous crash, the lotus Dao-rhyme struck the tripod. A savage gale tore across the battlefield. Kou En turned deathly pale, the muscles at his mouth twitching.
The lotus resonance shattered. The tripod shuddered violently, shrinking back into a bronze cauldron no larger than a fist.
Kou En stood bereft of all spiritual treasures.
Through the smoke and dust came a sword, gleaming as it closed the distance.
Kou En cried out, stumbling backwards beneath the weight of killing intent. “You cannot kill me! If you slay me, Heaven itself will not abide it! It will be wanton slaughter! You’ll draw down karmic retribution, never again to ascend the immortal path and be hunted by the Immortal Sect for all eternity!”
The blade flashed.
Kou En looked down. With a terrible clarity he felt steel pierce his body, splitting his spine and jutting from his back.
The blade was withdrawn, then driven in again.
Kou En seized the edge with both hands, blood pouring from his lips. At last, terror overwhelmed him. At death’s threshold, he pleaded brokenly, “Spare me… please… do not… do not kill me…”
Zhu Xiaoyou asked coldly, “Have you seen a youth in blue robes? His name is Lin Yin.”
Kou En gasped, “I…… I have. He was captured by Huang Zizhuo… escaped… let me live…”
Expressionless, Zhu Xiaoyou replied, “You slew four people. I’ll see justice done for them.”
Blade by blade, he made his reckoning. Blood gushed from Kou En’s mouth. His eyes bulged, near to bursting.
At last, Zhu Xiaoyou wrenched the sword free. He turned away, then suddenly spun back, lopping Kou En’s head into the mud.
Xi Tao’s eyes closed briefly. He said, “Zhu Xiaoyou. Xue Cuo bade me bring you a message.”
The rain fell in endless threads.
Then, piercing the storm, came the bright, keen sound of a flute.
The heavens quivered faintly. One by one, beams of treasured light unfurled across the sky, each bearing heavy resonance of the Dao, spreading vast and boundless.
Bent beneath their weight as though carrying a mountain, Zhu Xiaoyou stood enshrouded by blossoming white lotuses of the Way. He stepped through the puddles, eyes fixed ahead.
Upon a low rise approached a band of youths. Each was striking in bearing, fine of face and proud of stance, clad in silks and splendour, laughing lightly together.
Not one spared Zhu Xiaoyou a glance.
“Where is Kou En-shidi?” one asked. “By now he should have finished the harvest.”
The words were spoken lightly, yet Zhu Xiaoyou heard. From the mud he heaved up the corpse of Kou En. “Is it him you seek?”
The cultivator stared in horror, grief and disbelief wracking his face. “Shidi!”
In the next instant rage consumed him. “You beast! You’ve murdered my Shidi! Today I’ll grind your bones to dust!”
“Beast! Animal! You must die!”
Such a thing beggared belief. A fellow Daoist, laughing with them but moments ago, now beheaded. And by a base-born stray cultivator no less.
They were not Kou En. To reap the crops required swiftness and precision.
The greater their anger, the harsher their hand.
Seven protective treasures blazed forth, each exuding the aura of world’s end, rushing at Zhu Xiaoyou.
Today, the criminal would be ground to ashes!
Far off, unseen by any, the yellow-robed youth stirred. He opened his eyes and drew his blade.
Steel flashed, a gleam gone in an instant.
Xi Tao surged his qi into the Buddha beads. Lotus-rhythms unfolded in layers, shattering the force of the first blow!
He stood shoulder to shoulder with Zhu Xiaoyou. Facing former brothers-in-arms, Xi Tao showed not a shred of mercy.
Zhu Xiaoyou staggered back beneath the crushing weight of their spiritual might. He could not endure it.
Xi Tao’s black hair streamed like a maddened dragon. He faced the power of the treasures and roared: “Xue Cuo! What are you waiting for?!”
A clear young voice rang out in answer.
“Gege, raise the tripod!”
Xi Tao split his focus, drawing the three-legged cauldron to him. Though he could not break its seal, he required only a simple summoning, not true mastery.
At once the cauldron grew a size larger.
A small white cloud drifted in. Upon it sat a plump white child. With two fingers pressed together, he gestured; from the cauldron rose a pale smoke. Thirty-two talismans whirled, forming a strange and peerless pattern of the Dao. Xue Cuo raised his gaze skyward.
The opposing cultivator raged, “To kill you is no more than butchering dogs!”
“Arrogant fool! Frog at the bottom of a well! Today I’ll have your lives, to avenge my shixiong!”
At their head was the youth who had once struck at Zhu Xiaoyou. His expression was like ice as he said, “How dare you…? Hm? Haha.”
He moved to crush the two with his treasure.
Suddenly, a pure light blazed across the sky.
