The guardian elders of the Six Saints Temple were wild-eyed, on the brink of madness.
“Stop him! That is the very fortune of our demon race!”
“Kong Yun is in that human’s hands! Elders. If not now, when will you act?!”
“Thief! Do not flee!”
The temple guardians and royal guards surged out in pursuit. The demon clan’s elite forces had already been fully mobilised. From afar, the White Tiger Elder caught sight of Xue Cuo, and his heart clenched with alarm.
“Form the array at once!” he roared. “The Great Saint’s vessel must not leave the Demon Court!”
“He knows the Supreme Freedom Technique! We cannot stop him alone. He is Kong Yun’s accomplice! Kong Yun never meant to die; he left himself a contingency!”
The White Tiger Elder’s eyes gleamed with cold light as he ground his teeth.
“My lords! A great enemy stands before us, and still you hesitate? If Kong Yun is taken, our clan’s grand restoration will collapse into ruin! At such a moment, I beg you. Unite your strength!”
The demon elders exchanged grave looks. They understood at once what was at stake. Without further words, they joined forces, erecting a vast barrier that sealed the battlefield from the outside world.
One elder, cloaked in a hood and dragging a long, lizard-like tail behind him, struck his cane sharply upon the ground and gave a cold laugh.
“A trifling human. To steal the Great Saint’s technique, the audacity is beyond measure.”
“Elder Yishan has emerged? Was he not at the end of his lifespan?”
“Do not question it. Strike!”
…
High above, Xue Cuo flew desperately onward, Kong Yun slung across his back.
The gale winds of the Demon Court tore through his hair. Flames leapt from the talismans in his hands as he shouted hoarsely:
“Break! Break! Break! Break it open!”
“Human, halt!”
Before him, countless artefacts materialised in mid-air: blades and swords, bells and a great cauldron. Radiance burst forth from them as they transformed into ferocious beasts and soaring birds. Jackals, tigers, leopards, and hawks surged to block his path.
Elder Yishan tapped his staff lightly.
In an instant, the countless artefacts fused into a boundless mountain. They were visible yet insubstantial, stretching endlessly across the heavens.
Xue Cuo turned.
Below him, more than a hundred demon elders sat cross-legged upon the ground. From each of their bodies extended invisible cords of power, weaving through the sky, sealing every direction of escape.
A grey-hooded elder stood at the forefront, eyes beneath the cowl flashing with cold, yellow severity. “Human. Cease.”
Xue Cuo wrenched himself forward. His knees buckled; he nearly collapsed in the raging wind. Blood spilled from his mouth in heavy gulps. Staggering, he forced himself upright. “Let me through!”
Elder Yishan’s voice was calm and implacable. “With every step you take, a mountain will weigh upon your back. With your frail body, how many steps can you manage while carrying Kong Yun?”
A pause.
“I know who you are. Yet your actions are intolerably presumptuous. Set Kong Yun down, and I shall permit you to depart.”
Xue Cuo said nothing. He lifted his hand and summoned the lotus Dao-mark from his brow. At once, fine rain began to fall across the sealed heavens. Thin threads of water drifted and weaved within the gale.
He answered with silence. He refused with silence.
Within the curtain of rain, the blue of his robes rippled like unfurling clouds. Kong Yun remained on his back as he stepped forward.
The first step.
Elder Yishan’s expression darkened. “You court death.”
But Xue Cuo did not even glance at him. His entire mind held only one thought: Fly higher.
Soar high enough, and mountains and rivers shrink beneath one’s feet. No obstacle remains insurmountable.
His robes tore apart in the wind. His dark hair scattered. The slender silver chain at his waist unfurled into a circling talisman, spinning around him in defiance.
He recited every divine name he had ever learned, calling to heaven and earth alike, begging for even a single downward glance.
He took a second step. A third.
He felt his bones cracking. He heard the roar of blood reversing through his veins. His spirit palace and spiritual altar trembled, threatening collapse. Still he would not stop.
There were many in this world worth saving, and he had saved many. But there would never be a second Kong Xiao Yun.
He had not betrayed the common people. He had not wronged the world. Then heaven had no right to let his dearest friend die before his eyes… soul obliterated, spirit extinguished.
It was not fair. It was so utterly, damnably unfair.
Elder Yishan stared at that solitary, stubborn back, fury rising like wildfire in his chest. “Human!”
Xue Cuo’s hands trembled so violently he could scarcely hold the talisman. Yet he raised them again. Another sigil ignited.
“I am leaving! Let me go! Whether he lives or dies, I will hear it from Kong Yun’s own lips! Even if a hundred thousand mountains press upon my skull, I will carry him out!”
Teeth clenched, blood streaming from mouth and ears, he advanced under crushing pressure. One talisman after another burst forth from his shaking hands.
“Break! Rend! Calamity!”
Elder Yishan’s scalp prickled.
He knew full well who Xue Cuo was. And precisely because he knew, he dared not strike to kill. He had hoped the young man would surrender of his own accord.
Instead, Xue Cuo bore the weight of mountain after mountain and forced himself forward dozens of steps. His face grew ashen.
Then—
A thunderous roar split the sky. The elders cried out in shock. Their painstakingly constructed barrier was cleaved apart by a single black blade.
A silver-haired youth in black armour and white garments led a contingent of Tiandu Guards as he charged through the breach.
“Who is that?! How has he broken the Hun Tian Staff’s seal?!”
“Stop him!”
Yin Feixue’s gaze locked upon Elder Yishan.
Before anyone could react, a black blade shot forth like lightning, striking the staff from the elder’s grasp. The vast, unassailable mountain in the heavens trembled.
In that instant, Xue Cuo was flung far forward, though still not wholly free.
Yin Feixue lifted his eyes. The sight pierced him so sharply it felt as though his heart might bleed.
His cultivation surged. Golden eyes shone sharp as drawn steel. His long silver hair streamed like molten moonlight; black armour clung to him like the shell of a demon god. The black blade in his hand erupted with killing intent.
“Let him go.”
Elder Yishan’s face darkened to iron. “You.”
Yin Feixue swung his blade with savage force.
That strike bore the weight of thunder itself. It was a blow cast with the resolve to kill or die. His face was dreadful as an asura, murderous intent so dense it seemed to pierce the lungs.
“Let him go!”
He plunged straight into the formation without hesitation. Even when a blade pierced through his chest, he did not so much as furrow his brow.
Seeing their lord wounded, the Tiandu Guards roared in fury, eyes bloodshot.
“Protect His Majesty!”
“You dare wound our city lord? We’ll fight you to the death!”
Elder Yishan, who had the highest in cultivation among the demon elders, was momentarily unable to divide his focus while wielding the Hun Tian Staff. In that narrow opening, Yin Feixue cut down several demons in swift succession.
Yishan’s face twisted, lips trembling.
“Rebellion… rebellion! You traitors who feed on us and turn against us!”
The White Tiger Elder, iron-faced, shouted: “Yin Feixue! Xue Cuo carries away the very hope of our demon race! Would you forge an eternal blood feud with the Demon Royal Court?”
Yin Feixue lowered his head slightly. Blood dripped in steady beads from the clean line of his jaw. He gripped the black blade and forced himself upright once more. The wound across his shoulder cleaved down his chest, white bone faintly visible beneath torn flesh.
Beneath streaming silver hair, his golden eyes were cold as tempered metal. Then he laughed, wild and unrestrained.
“What royal court? Mere ants beneath heaven’s will, yet you style yourselves kings. If you wish to make an enemy of me, then come.”
He stamped the ground and leapt, striking again before the White Tiger Elder’s very eyes.
It was a blade no one could block, perhaps the strongest of his life. Yet it did not strike a single person. It cut straight toward the Hun Tian Staff.
For the first time, Elder Yishan who had stood immovable at the heart of the array, moved. He sighed and raised the staff to defend.
The formation in the heavens shattered. The blue-robed figure shot away like a streak of wind.
Artefacts scattered in all directions. Violent spiritual force detonated like a vast bursting bubble. Elders, royal guards, and lesser demons alike were hurled aside. Within the raging gale, only three figures remained standing.
The White Tiger Elder’s face was steeped in grief.
Why would heaven not favour the demon race? Were they destined to perish in this great calamity of heaven and earth? A suffocating despair coiled in his chest, like a blade already poised against his throat.
“There is no escape… no escape.”
He exhaled in anguish and looked to Elder Yishan, who stood with hands clasped behind his back, unreadable. Before them, a man knelt on one knee, head bowed. The Hun Tian Staff had pierced through his chest, pinning him to a pillar outside the Six Saints Temple.
The silver-haired youth’s pallid fingers groped upward, inch by inch. With the last of his strength, he dragged the staff free. His breath came ragged and broken as he lifted his head.
Elder Yishan gazed first toward the high heavens, then lowered his lashes, eyes icy as they settled upon him. The Hun Tian Staff flew out once more, stabbing straight down at Yin Feixue. He swayed but did not fall.
The staff halted a hair’s breadth from his brow. It suspended in mid-air, as though seized by unseen hands.
A fine drizzle began to fall. Rain gathered swiftly into a shallow pool upon the ground, ripples spreading in the wind. From within the curtain of rain, a faint figure approached. “He” was indistinct, yet impossibly clear.
Golden lotuses bloomed beneath His feet, their leaves unfurling in overlapping ranks for dozens of steps.
Elder Yishan’s pupils contracted violently. His expression went blank with shock. The White Tiger Elder staggered back, breath caught in his throat.
Yin Feixue looked up.
Above his head floated a vermilion talisman. Its strokes were sharp and commanding, iron hooks and silver lines carved in firm script. Upon it were written two characters:
Peace and Safety.
Yin Feixue smiled. The smile brought up a mouthful of blood. He wiped it away roughly and stared at the sky. “You saw me.”
Xue Cuo. You bastard. You had better not die.
You come back alive. Come back and fight me to the death. Come back and drink with me until all sorrows drown.
…
High above—
Xue Cuo climbed ever higher. His body had long surpassed its limits, yet he refused to descend.
In this world, the dead do not return. When the soul dies, the person is gone forever.
If Kong Yun’s body died, he would preserve a fragment of his soul. If even the soul perished, then he would destroy the body himself.
Xue Cuo screamed hoarsely as he hurtled toward the blazing sun, heedless of whether he would be scorched to ash.
“Come out! Come out!”
No answer. His expression twisted with fury as he forced himself upward on the wind.
“Then we die together!”
A voice sounded suddenly within his mind… cold, restrained, faintly weary: Xue Cuo. Stop.
He halted mid-air, gasping for breath. He swallowed blood. The sweat on his body had already been burned dry; his skin felt seared raw. His voice turned glacial.
“Great Lord. Are you coming out?”
Silence.
Then: I shall grant you the rank of a quasi-saint. Is that not enough?
Xue Cuo laughed harshly. “If you come out, I will build you temples and raise your statues. I will offer incense to you without cease. What say you?”
No reply. His heart sank.
Without another thought, he continued upward, bearing Kong Yun on his back. Though he had long since exhausted himself, he still rode the wind, forcing the Supreme Freedom Technique beyond its limits, chasing the blazing sun at the cost of his life.
“Great Golden Crow! Great Golden Crow! Where are you?!”
Within the sun which had been dormant for ten thousand years… a colossal being stirred.
Its brow twitched. Joy flickered across its vast consciousness. A voice, ancient and resonant, rolled forth: Xue Cuo.
