Lin Shijin and his companion followed at the rear of the group, reaching the Blood Tower after roughly half a day.
The Blood Tower stood at the very centre of Wuxiang Mountain, rising straight into the clouds so that its height could not be discerned. Around its outermost perimeter hung four immensely thick chains.
The moment they arrived before it, a cold, sinister aura pressed towards them. Its surface was covered in densely packed, intricate incantations, along with all manner of small demonic figures.
“Why is it called the Blood Tower? It is said to be a sacred relic of Jinyue Temple, placed here to suppress the famed Qiushui Sword.”
“The Qiushui Sword comes from Avici Hell. It is an evil blade. For a thousand years, it is said only Fuheng has been able to subdue it.”
Lin Shijin released Fuheng and asked, “Fuheng, do you think Qiushui is still inside the Blood Tower?”
Wuxiang Mountain opened only once every few years. Although the Qiushui Sword lay within, it rarely revealed itself. Their search would depend entirely on luck.
He asked, but received no reply. Fuheng was still annoyed, no doubt because he had not been released at once earlier.
Or perhaps he had simply gone to sleep, Lin Shijin thought, and let it go.
He kept an eye on Sheng Rufei, worried he might faint again. His complexion was still somewhat pale, so Lin Shijin rubbed his fingertips lightly.
“Shixiong, once we go in, are we still following them?”
“For the time being,” Sheng Rufei replied. “I gathered some information just now. The first level is a maze. Having them ahead of us will allow for trial and error.”
Lin Shijin was taken aback. He had been beside Sheng Rufei the entire time. When had he managed to gather information?
“Shixiong, when did you find that out? How did I not notice?”
He asked outright, then watched as several strands of silver thread extended from Sheng Rufei’s fingertips. They wove and shifted in mid-air, first forming butterflies, like silver wings fluttering.
Then they transformed into a paper crane, which even gave a faint cry, and finally into a small spider… a spider with wings.
Lin Shijin stared, transfixed, and pointed at it. “Shixiong, what is that supposed to be?”
He found Sheng Rufei’s aesthetic rather difficult to describe. He had noticed it lately. Sheng Rufei enjoyed making things, but what he made was sometimes… peculiar.
“Just something I made,” Sheng Rufei said. Noticing the youth’s lack of enthusiasm, the silver threads shifted again, forming a soft, plump little sparrow.
Round and fluffy, it chirped in Sheng Rufei’s palm.
“This one looks nice.” Lin Shijin reached out and poked it. It was soft to the touch, its feathers trembling slightly, a chubby little bundle.
Sheng Rufei placed the sparrow in his hand. Lin Shijin played with it as they walked. The little sparrow seemed almost alive. It chirped for a while in his palm, then flew up to his veil and settled there, unmoving.
“Shixiong, why can it fly on its own?”
With the plump sparrow perched on his head, Lin Shijin worried it might fall, raising a hand to steady it.
“It likes you,” Sheng Rufei said, not mentioning that he was controlling it.
The sparrow chirped merrily. Lin Shijin could not help but smile. When he realised it would not fall, he stopped worrying.
The moment they stepped into the Blood Tower, an invisible barrier formed. Once inside, there would be no chance of leaving.
As soon as they entered, the scene before them changed completely. A vast labyrinth stretched out ahead. Two statues with human heads and serpent bodies stood in place, each holding a halberd in one hand and a bronze basin in the other, within which a dim flame burned.
“The Blood Tower is modelled after infernal purgatory. The first level is the Serpent Aspect, the second the Locust Aspect, the third the Rat Aspect.”
“They correspond to floods, droughts, and plagues in the mortal world.”
Lin Shijin examined the surrounding stone walls. The tower was dimly lit, and each path branched differently. Many openings appeared deep and pitch-black.
Fearing he might become separated from Sheng Rufei, he gripped his sleeve.
Nor was he alone. All the disciples had grown wary. Their current position made them easy targets for ambush. If enemies appeared, they would be sitting ducks.
The murals depicted scenes related to the Serpent Phase. Each told a different allegorical story. Lin Shijin could make out some of them: raging floods sweeping away crops and temples, serpent demons running rampant through cities.
In one scene, a serpent demon had even replaced the human ruler, becoming lord of a city across the Three Thousand Realms, with none of the officials beneath noticing.
It fed on humans daily, feasting lavishly. The drink was made of human blood, the food of human flesh. Blood soaked the entire city, serpents ran wild, and the people lived in misery.
Lin Shijin liked myths, but not like this. The vivid, lifelike carvings unsettled him, especially when he could clearly make out human organs laid upon the offering trays.
A wave of nausea rose, and he nearly retched.
Sheng Rufei noticed at once. He tapped Lin Shijin lightly on the forehead. Instantly, his mind cleared, and the dizziness and nausea vanished.
“There are formations embedded in the murals. Do not stare at them. They will bewitch you.”
No sooner had he spoken than a scream rang out ahead, shattering the stillness of the maze.
A disciple not far in front suddenly dropped to his knees, clutching his eyes as he faced a mural. From his eye sockets, long, thin black snakes began to emerge, slick with dark red blood, crawling densely across his body.
The surrounding disciples scattered at once. Someone shouted, “Young Sect Master!” Mo Yan drew his sword, and with a sharp crack, a streak of sword light swept across the disciple.
His scream cut off abruptly. His body was covered in writhing black serpents, which engulfed him like rippling shadows. In moments, nothing remained but a writhing, bloodied mass.
Mo Yan brought his sword down again, severing the snakes that crawled forward.
“Do not stare at the murals. And do not let these infernal serpents approach.”
Before he had finished speaking, two more disciples cried out. They had been bitten.
Lin Shijin watched helplessly as they were reduced to mangled flesh within seconds. Mo Yan dealt with what remained just as swiftly.
There was no time to save anyone. From bite to death took only a few breaths.
Lin Shijin was not usually afraid of insects. He had even skipped lessons to catch them before. But now his eyelids twitched uncontrollably.
“Shixiong,” he murmured, “why does a single bite kill them?”
It felt as though all their cultivation amounted to nothing. Even with their abilities, they were utterly defenceless.
“This is the Blood Tower. Evils accumulated over millennia are gathered here.”
Sheng Rufei cut down an infernal serpent slithering towards them. It snapped in two, yet even as it died, half its body continued crawling towards Lin Shijin.
It moved slowly, its black eyes fixed on him. For some reason, it even seemed… pitiable.
Lin Shijin found the thought absurd. He struck at its vital point, and this time it lay still, dissolving into black mist.
He showed no fear, but the plump sparrow on his head was nearly beside itself, fluttering and chirping wildly, as though terrified of being bitten.
Lin Shijin reached up to soothe it. “Don’t be afraid. They won’t bite you.”
“And I’m here. I’ll protect you.”
The sparrow quieted, folding its wings, and lightly pecked at his finger.
Lin Shijin lowered his hand and met Sheng Rufei’s gaze. Sheng Rufei had been watching him all along, but turned away when their eyes met.
“Shixiong…” Lin Shijin rummaged through his storage ring and found the warding bracelets Feng Qing had prepared for him. He was not sure whether they would work.
He took out two, placing one on Sheng Rufei and one on himself. Testing them, he found the infernal serpents nearby indeed kept their distance.
With three disciples dead, the atmosphere grew markedly heavier. They had entered under a life-and-death pact, but none had expected death to come so swiftly. Outside, they might have endured the poisonous miasma for a time. Here, there was no such reprieve.
A single bite meant death.
As they advanced deeper, Lin Shijin began to sense a faint, watchful presence. Unsure, he quietly sent a message to Sheng Rufei.
“Shixiong, is someone following us?”
Sheng Rufei gave a soft acknowledgement, glancing towards a corner where another mural overlapped with the previous one.
“How irritating,” Lin Shijin muttered. Whoever it was seemed to be observing them, not yet recognising them.
Before long, they reached the end of the murals. Being a maze, there was no easy exit. They had to find the door leading to the second level.
As for how that door would appear, they would have to discover it themselves.
Before them stood six doors, each carved with a different figure of a human-headed, serpent-bodied demon.
Some held swords, some sat upon thrones, some clutched human hearts, others appeared benevolent, seated upon temple altars. Each door represented something different.
There were many of them, and no clear path. Mo Yan made a straightforward decision: divide into six groups, two to a group, each entering one door. Those who survived would communicate.
“This really is…” Lin Shijin did not know what to say. It was efficient, certainly, but it meant the chance of survival might be no more than one in six.
“Shixiong, shall we go in?” They could part ways with Mo Yan if they wished.
Sheng Rufei gave a quiet “mm”, lowering his gaze to him and brushing his fingertips. “No need to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.” Lin Shijin understood his meaning. They went along with the plan, and as expected, Mo Yan assigned them together.
Since they were clearly a pair, he did not separate them, instead sending them to the final door.
The carving on that door showed a serpent demon pierced through the heart.
“If you feel it is not viable, return at once,” Mo Yan said. “You are in pairs. If anything happens, send word immediately.”
Many disciples responded, though none seemed reassured. Their grips on their swords were unsteady.
One chance in six. No one knew whether they would live or die.
Before entering, Lin Shijin glanced once more at the carving. The serpent demon, though pierced through the heart, showed no pain. Instead, it wore a faint, ambiguous smile, the corners of its lips lifting slowly.
Blood stained the throne. It seemed to mark the end of the serpent demons’ reign… and yet, perhaps, only its beginning.
