“Good.”
Xue Cuo replied calmly.
This surprised Yin Feixue. He didn’t get angry?
He gave his arm a casual shake, yet Xue Cuo remained impassive, eyes closed, sitting cross-legged, fingers forming a Dao seal, quietly regulating his breath and mending his wounds.
Xue Cuo’s mind was fully sunk into his spiritual domain. At his ears came ghostly wails, a chill wind surging.
Though the White Tiger was a demon, its ferocity made it a bane to evil shades.
Yin Feixue hacked his way through, unstoppable, cutting down who knew how many wraiths. Yet the more he killed, the more wrong it seemed.
He mounted a peak and looked down. Malice wound around Broken Head Mountain like a flowing river, forming a rare domain of ten thousand ghosts. It was only just forming, but if allowed to spread, it would sooner or later engulf nearby villages and towns.
The little demons of Tiandu City, shallow in cultivation, could never withstand it.
His mind churned with thoughts. Gripping his long blade, tiger eyes flaring wide, his golden pupils burned like the noonday sun as he gazed from the summit.
Behind the white-furred tiger stretched a sea of corpses and blood, struck down by his hand, the countless ghosts fallen silent.
In the still night,
Suddenly came an elegant string melody.
Yin Feixue looked towards the sound. On a cliff a hundred feet away, a faint crimson moon hung. Within its light, a figure indistinct of gender, robed in white gauze, plucked silk strings.
Clang—
A red glow swept closer.
Yin Feixue slashed, splitting the glow in two, the halves rushing on. “Such heavy ghost-qi.”
He shattered the beams in several strokes, easy as breath… yet a strand of white fur drifted down.
“Who are you? Cloaking yourself, feigning mystery!”
Yin Feixue sneered, balancing Xue Cuo in one arm, blade in the other, and leapt from the peak, charging at the crimson moon. In a blink he closed dozens of feet.
The gauze-clad figure faltered, clearly unprepared for such recklessness. Four fingers flicked, sending killing notes surging. From the valley burst endless wraiths and corpses, rushing in their thousands.
On closer look, the ghosts were mortals, cultivators, and demons alike, all ragged, their resentment sky-high.
“Begone!”
Yin Feixue shielded Xue Cuo with one arm, body fierce and indomitable, yet careful, slipping past countless hidden blades. The white-shrouded figure, surprised, struck with five fingers at once. Red blades filled the heavens, dense as rain.
Yin Feixue’s plight worsened, his robes slashed open, white fur stained with blood, yet his golden eyes remained cold and unyielding.
Just then.
A pale-blue talisman rose, unfolding as layered lotuses, warding off the rain of red blades.
Yin Feixue drew breath at last. Dropping to one knee, still holding unharmed Xue Cuo, he looked up at the blossoms. “Fine Dao image. Impressive!”
Perched on the tiger’s arm, Xue Cuo opened his eyes, his blue robes billowing. “Strike.”
Yin Feixue hefted his blade. “Together?”
Xue Cuo gave a low hum, and with a light tap of his toes stood on the white tiger’s shoulder, like a drifting feather. Yin Feixue’s hands were free at last. Raising the black blade, he faced the swarming crimson light and smiled cruelly. “Then I’ll cut through!”
Xue Cuo pinched a pale talisman between his fingers, cradling a small censer. “Good.”
Yin Feixue held back no longer. His black blade whirled like a mad dragon, plunging into the horde. The strings quickened, red blades rained like a storm straight at them.
Xue Cuo flicked his sleeve, dispatching a vampire lunging at Yin Feixue. Splashed with foul blood, he cast his gaze to the cliff, voice cold: “Courting death.”
In his hand, the small censer breathed straight green smoke. Thirty-two talismans flared to their peak, unfurling a sky of stars.
The young man’s lips parted, Dao rolling like waves.
[Stars Shrouding the Moon]
At once, myriad stars rose, dimming the crimson moon. In the valley, the corpses halted, raising their heads.
The red blades shattered into countless sparks.
Xue Cuo stood still upon the tiger’s shoulder, eyes meeting those of the gauze-shrouded figure. After a pause, the figure lifted the veil, revealing red threads and golden bells twined about his body. A copper coin mask hid his face, showing only eyes clear as crystal, gazing upon Xue Cuo below.
[You too are of the Xianghuo Divine Dao]
Xue Cuo’s lips moved, words voiceless.
The gauze-clad one’s gaze grew complex. Kneeling, he let the crimson moon fade behind him. After only a breath’s pause, he plucked the strings again.
Clang—
From the valley came a deep ox’s bellow. Yin Feixue twirled his blade. “What’s he calling forth? A wild ox?”
Xue Cuo shielded the censer with one hand, incense nearly spent. He asked, “Great King, within one moment, can you cut through?”
Yin Feixue narrowed his eyes. “Not even one. If undisturbed, with all my strength, half a moment will suffice.”
Xue Cuo pressed his fingers together. “Good.”
He stood tall upon the tiger’s shoulder, composed as ever. “Then let me show you my means.”
Yin Feixue’s gaze sharpened. He laughed loud and bold. “Good, but I’ll still be stronger!”
With a long roar, his eyes blazed, and his black blade cut like one entering a world without ghosts.
Xue Cuo put away the censer and plucked from his waist the feather.
Yin Feixue fought on in exhilaration, feeling himself borne by a wild gale, his feet upon lotus petals, strength without end. A glance downward revealed two slips of talisman paper, one green and one red, fluttering beside his ear. On closer inspection, the seals bore the words: [I Run Fast] and [You Can’t Kill Me].
What marvellous sorcery!
Amazed, Yin Feixue hacked his way through the sea of spirits, unstoppable amidst the horde.
Moo—
The deep bellow lengthened, resonant and mournful.
The ridgeline shuddered. A slumbering dragon stirred, its eyes flaring crimson like twin lanterns.
It opened its jaws, spewing wind and blood-rain, vaulting into the clouds, charging straight at the pair.
Yin Feixue’s brow furrowed, his face blanching. “A dragon!”
Such creatures had been extinct from the mortal world for millennia, their trace long vanished from the cultivation realm. He had thought them nothing but legend… yet here before him was one in the flesh.
“It’s dead.”
The words escaped his lips, answered only by the youth’s cold retort. Looking closely, Yin Feixue saw it was indeed lifeless, suffused instead with killing miasma, its body soaked in gore.
What Xue Cuo saw shook him even more.
The dragon writhed in torment, black vapour seeping through its body, its eyes streaming blood-stained tears. Amidst the foul scarlet haze, faint golden lines gleamed. This radiance, Xue Cuo knew too well.
The willpower of living beings.
This dragon must once have received generations of worship, safeguarding river and soil. Even in death it retained a golden body of pure vow-power.
How could such a sacred beast be enslaved by demonic arts, driven to slaughter, chained with resentment and agony?
[Kill… me… ah… kill me, I would rather die.]
A hoarse, archaic voice rang suddenly in Xue Cuo’s mind. He lifted his gaze. The black dragon thundered, blood-red script glowing across its hide, etched into the very bone. Out of its own control, it plummeted downwards with a roar.
At this perilous instant, Yin Feixue glimpsed the youth’s cheeks puff with wrath, his expression glacial. He addressed the veiled figure: “I had no wish to kill you. But you have gone too far, fellow Daoist.”
Fellow Daoist?
A flicker of strangeness passed through Yin Feixue’s heart.
“My lord, lend me strength!”
There was no time for thought. His blade flashed forth, and the youth sprang from its back, rising into the air.
Lotus blossoms bloomed in cascading waves. With a flick of his finger, the youth cast forth a [Binding Talisman].
The black dragon froze, suspended in mid-air.
But only for a heartbeat.
Xue Cuo raised his hand, Dao seal shifting. The lotus opened, releasing a hawk that streaked towards the veiled figure. The white-clad shadow lowered his gaze, plucking his strings softly; the red blades reshaped into a golden eagle in hot pursuit.
The seal shifted again. Hawk became peacock, which promptly swallowed the eagle whole.
The veiled man’s face tightened. His fingers pressed harder; the peacock shrieked, faltering, then spat out a pangolin.
Xue Cuo sneered, seal turning once more. Out sprang a blurred little man, who seized the pangolin by the tail and swung it fiercely.
The veiled man stared in shock. The pangolin became a tiger, jaws wide to devour the figure.
The little man flailed with fists and feet, then hauled a long cudgel from his back, beating the beast round the head.
The tiger floundered, then dissolved into a serpent, coiling tight. The little man whistled and split in two. Each one bit hard upon the seven-inch point.
“You despicable cur!”
The veiled man could not restrain himself, rising to his feet. Behind him the red moon shattered and vanished. His voice rasped like a saw, harsh and grating.
Xue Cuo’s gaze and heart were both ice; his strikes showed no mercy.
That man had been confident, never imagining the youth’s Daoist power so fierce. Forced upright, staggering, he cried out: “You’re also a practitioner of the Xianghuo Divine Dao! I have no grudges with you, yet you would ruin my ground, shatter my Dao-body! Do you think you can endure the karmic backlash?”
Xue Cuo swept his eyes over the black mountains and waters, this domain of ten thousand ghosts, with unconcealed loathing. “Whose disciple are you?”
“Hanba?”
“Congfu?”
“Or a Rakshasa?”
“This land of evil gods. Surely the spirit you seek to revive feeds on grievance and baleful qi.”
Just then a white tiger vaulted from the cliff’s edge, black blade descending. The veiled man cried out, dodging aside.
“Demon, die!”
Assailed from both flanks, he faltered, eyes turning back to Xue Cuo.
“You… who are you?”
Xue Cuo summoned his Supreme Freedom Technique. “The one who takes your miserable life!”
The veiled figure’s gaze gleamed like autumn water. Step by step he retreated. Behind him, a ghost gate yawned open. He leapt within at once. The immobilising talisman’s spell expired, and the black dragon surged after him, plunging through and sealing the way.
The dragon’s dread power whipped a storm-gale, snuffing out the incense burner in Xue Cuo’s hand. He staggered, searching for cover.
Then a warm, furred arm encircled him like a wall, shielding him from the blast.
The white tiger’s form swelled, towering over two metres, its coat streaming in the gale. It sheltered the youth close against its side. Yet the human body was frail, slight, without weight… so the tiger lowered his head to guard him more carefully.
The youth clutched a talisman, eyes screwed shut against the wind, resting quietly in Yin Feixue’s arms.
His breath tickled. Yin Feixue, unable to help himself, flexed his chest. The white fur upon it closed in, brushing against the young man’s cold, elegant face.
The youth started, anger flashing sharp between brow and eye, and shoved hard at Yin Feixue.
Xue Cuo: Ah ah ah!
