Chongming let out a peal of wild laughter. “You truly don’t know the meaning of death.”
She unleashed her divine might, hands stretching wide as she lunged to tear the monk apart.
Clang—!
A violent impact rang out, ripples of force shredding through the wind.
Chongming’s expression shifted. She stared at the monk, perplexed. A faint ring of golden radiance shimmered around him.
A merit-gilded golden body?
Chongming felt as though she had swallowed excrement. What an appallingly unlucky day. She spun on her heel and fled. But whichever direction she bolted towards, she collided into the monk again.
Could this be the Western Buddha Sect’s famed “Behold the Tathāgata”?
During the ancient war of gods, a Buddhist cultivator had once used this very technique to entrap and slay a Great Emperor Immortal. This monk’s origins were anything but ordinary.
Chongming cursed inwardly. In her prime, she would never have feared him. But the crow’s sneak attack had left her injured, and the all-important Rebirth Foetal Fire had been stolen. Now, facing a mere mortal at the Spirit Void Stage, she could not even kill him in a single strike.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She summoned a surge of dark wind; heaven and earth dimmed, daylight curdling into underworld gloom. Eerie pathways unfurled across the mountain, dotted by dim, lonely lanterns. The inevitable roads of samsara all mortals must tread.
This was her kill-stroke, perfected over a thousand bitter years.
It had never once failed.
But—
A flood of golden light tore the world open.
Chongming stumbled backwards. The monk ripped through her manifested Dao image. His white robes billowed violently. He loosened one sleeve, revealing a lean, powerful, sculpted torso; in his free hand he held aloft a golden staff.
He lifted the staff in polite salute, his face as serene as a beautiful woman’s, his bearing as sinuous as a dragon.
“Forgive the offence.”
Chongming’s aura lurched. She knew he would never let her escape. She, too, had been driven to the point of risking her life.
In eight millennia, no god had ever forced her thus far.
Since matters had come to this, she could only strike ruthlessly.
Wind swept across the peak. The two met each other’s eyes. And moved at the same instant.
…
That battle—
Half a mountain was sheared away. Rock cascaded, waterfalls snapped mid-flow, and on the flattened mountainside a pool of jade-green spring water was born.
An ant drifted in a lake of blood.
A hand appeared, wiping away the clotted gore, lifting the struggling ant onto the tip of a verdant leaf.
The monk’s body was drenched crimson. His eyes and brows seemed aflame; wounds large and small criss-crossed him until he resembled a demonic Asura. He took no notice of it whatsoever. Holding the severed head… black hair veiling the face, skull split open… he strolled along in excellent spirits, singing a clear, lilting tune. Its rhythm soothed the frightened creatures hidden in the woods.
A stag poked its head cautiously from between the trees.
Xi Tao pressed his palms together, hopped lightly onto the stag’s back, and reclined upon it.
“Amithaba. I must trouble you for a short ride, little one.”
…
South Sea. Jianlai Pass.
Grass and trees had withered. Corpses lay strewn across the land. This place had become utterly desolate.
Once, it served as the border pass between north and south; but the birth of an evil god had drained all living things dry, turning it into a grey, ghostly wasteland.
A murder of ghostly birds perched among the dead branches.
They watched the black-clad youth standing upon the ramparts. He held a bamboo sword; a hawk spiralled above his shoulder.
“Master. He’s arrived.”
The Fox God, fleeing in panic, shot past Jianlai Pass… only to be stopped short by a blade-aura so sharp it seemed to cleave the world. Startled, he snapped, “Who’s there?!”
“Tch. A human?”
The Fox God narrowed his eyes, sweeping a greedy look over the youth. Though a warning instinct prickled at him, lust for fresh blood overcame all restraint. He struck.
He removed his pipe and breathed out a cloud of rose-coloured vapour.
“Whoever you are, your luck is marvellous. You’ll taste bliss before you die beneath my hand.”
Gu Ruhui drew his sword and charged, leaving Ying Xiao perched on the wall to observe.
The rosy mist thickened until sight vanished. He could see nothing. After a short while. Drip… drip… drip… Blood began falling from the sky.
“Master!”
A brilliant sword-light burst from the heavens—thunderous, dazzling. It slashed the mist apart, carving a vast rift through the vapour. A cold, blazing arc of light illuminated the Fox God’s stupefied face—
—and punched clean through his skull.
Ying Xiao, wide-eyed, stammered, “Is… is that the Heavenly Sword?!”
Gu Ruhui descended. His robes were immaculate as fresh snow; only a single claw-mark marred his cheek. Wiping away Si Wuxie’s blood, he answered,
“It isn’t the Heavenly Sword. It’s my sword, my own sword.”
Ying Xiao remained terrified. “But that was a half-step god…”
Gu Ruhui showed no concern. “He’d already been gravely injured. Leaving Qianyun City weakened him further. And he was careless.”
“Even little shixiong could have taken him.”
He stepped forward, severed the Fox God’s head, and lifted the old red cloth. The fox’s eyes glared open, exhaling one final puff of intoxicating mist straight into Gu Ruhui’s face. Blood welled in his mouth as the Fox God laughed hoarsely:
“You too… will… die…”
Gu Ruhui’s expression did not flicker. The Fox God’s features warped as his spirit dissolved; disbelief clung to him to the end.
“You…”
Ying Xiao drove his sword through the creature’s skull, voice cracking, “Master!”
Gu Ruhui replied calmly, “I’m fine.”
He paused, thought for a moment, then said with perfect seriousness, “Just a little thirsty.”
He turned toward the direction of Qianyun City… and his heart eased.
He could return to his shixiong.
Shiliu, skulking in the water, slithered through the depths in panic.
A jolt of terror struck his heart. He leapt from the river and flung his magic treasures about wildly.
“Vile creature.”
A voice, resonant as struck jade.
Shiliu looked up.
There, standing upon the treetops, was a tall, slender human figure with hands clasped behind his back, robes of incomparable splendour, face so exquisitely fine it resisted gender.
A waterfall of black hair spilled down his back. At his left temple glimmered a bright emerald feather… beautiful beyond compare.
Taking him for a refined cultivator with more elegance than might, Shiliu puffed himself up and barked, “Move aside! Or don’t blame me for being merciless!”
“Merciless? You intend to fight me?”
Kong Yun, mild-tempered as a child, had grown explosively irritable in adulthood. His beauty was a constant source of unwelcome trouble and he scarcely tolerated exchanging words with strangers.
The two clashed at once.
Xianghuo power and demonic arts erupted, worlds colliding in a storm of cloud and pressure.
Kong Yun wielded his Supreme Freedom Technique, every strike direct and uncompromising. The heavens darkened; his ornate robes shredded, revealing a lean, honed body like sculpted jade.
He moved as though pain did not exist, not a single crease touched his brow.
Shiliu’s body was battered almost beyond recognition. Blood spurted from his mouth. His pride crumpled. Yet the terrifying demon simply slammed another cold punch forward, blood spraying.
“Again!”
Shiliu choked in agony, “You—”
….
Qianyun City.
Heaven’s Wrath descended in thunderous ruin, obliterating Qianyun City. Beyond the barrier, The Swallowing Serpent was beaten savagely.
Cold red sword-light mingled with earth-shaking dragon-roars, like ten thousand azure dragons screaming across the heavens.
The clash of divine powers and the heavenly tribulation birthed cyclonic winds, whipping into a monstrous waterspout that tore through forests and mountains, ripping everything asunder.
On the shattered heights, Xue Cuo climbed to a vantage point, his blue garments snapping violently in the storm.
Xue Cuo climbed to higher ground, his blue robes snapping wildly in the wind. He pushed against the gale, stumbling as he tried to see who was fighting, and what had become of the city below.
“Master Xuan!”
“Ao Mu!”
The wind cut like knives.
He looked about in all directions, when a sudden warmth enveloped him. Startled, Xue Cuo turned. In the next instant he was swept up, held tight against a broad chest, hidden from the storm in a single, protective embrace.
At that very moment… boom!
A massive boulder, caught in the cyclone of qi, smashed into Yin Feixue’s back, stone shards flying in all directions.
He staggered a step, but did not loosen his hold on Xue Cuo.
Only when the gusts eased did he silently relax his arms, revealing the youth he’d shielded. Xue Cuo leaned against him, face pale as frost, blood streaking his fingers. He was clearly injured. “Yin Feixue?”
Yin Feixue felt as though someone had thrust a fistful of ice into his chest. It was a sharp, breath-stealing pain. He bared his teeth slightly. He wanted to ask why Xue Yinbing had deceived him… but thinking it through, he understood.
“Injured?”
“Only lightly.”
He lifted Xue Cuo with one arm, black blade in the other, sheltering him completely. “Where do you want to go? I’ll take you!”
Xue Cuo blinked. “In this wind?”
Yin Feixue gave a sharp grin, golden eyes blazing with confidence. “Stop fussing. Tell me where. Leave the rest to me.”
Xue Cuo laughed softly. He wrapped an arm around Yin Feixue’s shoulders and raised his wounded hand, only for a tiger’s paw to clamp around his wrist. “Don’t use talismans. I said leave it to me.”
“…?”
Xue Cuo felt it was odd, but didn’t dwell on it. He pointed toward the raging flood beneath the city wall. “There’s a dragon there. Ao Mu’s likely with it. Go there.”
“Right!”
Yin Feixue launched into the wind and sped toward the torrent.
True to his word, he didn’t let Xue Cuo lift a single finger. The black blade formed an unbroken barrier. Wind and rain slid away, and all evil qi recoiled.
Little golden dragon and Xuan Zhao were clearing the floodwaters when a white-furred tiger bounded into view. Xuan Zhao cried out, “This is bad! Something’s happened to your Eldest shixiong!”
Ao Mu shot into the air at once, abandoning the river. Dragon and turtle rushed toward the white tiger, shouting from afar, “King Yin! Have you seen Xue!”
The three met mid-air.
Xuan Zhao saw Yin Feixue drenched, black armour soaked, carrying the scent of storm and steel. “Xue Cuo’s hurt?”
“Eldest shixiong. Where’s my eldest shixiong?!”
Yin Feixue arched a brow and revealed the youth hidden in his arms.
Little golden dragon shrank down at once, diving straight into Xue Cuo’s arms. He curled around him, whimpering pitifully,
“Eldest shixiong…”
Xuan Zhao stared, glancing from Xue Cuo to Yin Feixue, deeply suspicious. Something felt wrong, but he couldn’t articulate what, so he swallowed his doubts.
…
The thunder tribulation passed.
Qianyun City was now a massive circular crater, floodwaters surging back into it and forming a vast marsh.
The Swallowing Serpent tumbled into the void, cursing, without even managing one final threat.
Xue Zhenzhen did not chase him. She stood suspended in the sky, staring down at the forests and mountains, her expression cold and distant.
“Swordmaster.”
Xue Zhenzhen turned. Sword Immortal stood behind her.
She held the Dragon Might Sword in her hand, anger lingering in her brow. “What are you doing here?”
Jun Wuwei let out a soft sigh. He could not bear it, and finally said,
“Zhenzhen… you’ve hunted the Swallowing Serpent across the mortal realm and caused such devastation. If he had even a shred of motherly affection for you, he would have come to you himself.”
“You still haven’t found him. Isn’t that because he’s avoiding you?”
“Why keep searching?”
Xue Zhenzhen looked at him. She wasn’t furious nor striking, but solemn and earnest. “Jun Wuwei, you told me that once ties are severed, the karma ends, and ordinarily one can never meet again.”
She could not find him. How could her son, who was so young when he fell into the mortal realm, possibly find her?
“Perhaps… the thread of fate is only a hair’s breadth short.”
With her cultivation, perhaps she ought to defy heaven once. Perhaps her son wished to see her, but fate had already been cut.
Sword Immortal finally said, “He is your tribulation.”
He hesitated, torn… he was unable to say more, yet unable to stay silent.
The words halted Xue Zhenzhen. “What tribulation?”
Jun Wuwei said nothing. This was for her to comprehend herself. He could not reveal it, nor could he stop her. This was her own Dao realm…for her Dao heart to realise.
Xue Zhenzhen was quiet for a long while. “You severed your own cultivation, refused ascension, to repay all worldly karma and attain the Dao fruit.”
“Am I one of the karmas you must repay?”
“Am I the tribulation for your enlightenment?”
Jun Wuwei remained silent. He wanted to deny it, but could not go against his heart. She watched him, eyes shimmering faintly. She was confused, and unable to understand him.
“So that’s how it is.”
“I see.”
“In that case… your past actions make sense.”
They had known each other from their humble beginnings, kindred in spirit, confidants in the Dao.
But such is life.
Friendships of former years are not eternal. A single thought arises, another fades… and gone in an instant.
“Jun Wuwei.”
A breeze swept through the clouds; her robes fluttered.
She lifted a hand and drew out her only hairpin. Black hair spilled loose at once. When she lowered her gaze, her expression was serene, almost gentle. “Our old betrothal token, I return it to you.”
“From this day on, do not come to see me again.”
“Xue Cuo is my son. He has nothing to do with you.”
Jun Wuwei froze as Xue Zhenzhen tore open the void and stepped into the deep unknown, leaving him alone in the sky.
…
At that moment.
The sky brightened, the waters receded.
Xue Cuo, Ren Shu, and Yin Feixue stood upon a mountaintop, chattering as they guided the talismanic dragon to clear the remaining floods and settle the people. The violent gale had flattened the forests around Qianyun City, scattering red, yellow, and green leaves across the earth like a painted sea.
As they discussed their next steps…
A sharp whistle split the air.
“Xue Cuo.”
“Little shixiong.”
“Hmph. Xue Cuo!”
That voice.
Xue Cuo sucked in a breath, spun around, rubbed his eyes. He saw three figures descending at once, striding straight towards him.
