In truth, Ming Zhu had nearly reached his limit the moment he threw Zhou Fuxue down. He had been afraid of heights since childhood; falling from such a distance was practically a death sentence for his nerves. Had the singular thought of protecting Zhou Fuxue not anchored his mind, he would have blacked out long ago.
After hanging from the sword hilt for a quarter-hour, Ming Zhu’s brain—scrambled by the sensation of weightlessness—finally remembered that Zhou Fuxue was still carrying his protection charm. He promptly let go, allowing the boy to fall freely.
However, regret set in the instant his fingers slipped.
*I... I don't think I have a protection charm...* That was his final thought as his weakened hands lost their grip. The terrifying sensation of freefall returned, followed by a heavy thud as he slammed into the ground.
Fortunately, they were already close to the floor. Ming Zhu was only dazed for a brief moment before he scrambled up. He didn't even notice that the ground was littered with scrap metal—shards of blades several inches long, all pointing upward. Because he had landed on his back, those rusted yet still razor-sharp edges had driven themselves into his body, nearly turning him into a sieve.
He didn't feel much pain at the moment, but Zhou Fuxue’s eyes had already begun to redden.
Ming Zhu sighed inwardly, thinking once again how difficult children were to raise. He reached out and pulled the teary-eyed boy into his arms, coaxing him in a low voice, "Don't cry. It’s no big deal, I’m not going to die. Our priority is getting out of here."
Zhou Fuxue wiped his eyes fiercely. "I’m not crying."
Ming Zhu said helplessly, "Fine, fine, you’re not crying. It’s your Senior Brother who’s crying, alright? I’m crying my eyes out."
Having briefly pacified the stubborn child, he took Zhou Fuxue’s hand, intending to head back the way they came to find Ming Fuhua. Suddenly, a voice drifted eerily from behind them.
"Since you two have come, why bother leaving?"
The voice was cold and laced with malice. It made Zhou Fuxue tremble, and he instinctively tightened his grip on Ming Zhu’s arm.
Ming Zhu didn't turn around. He sighed softly and muttered to himself, "Sigh, I knew it wouldn't be that easy to leave."
Zhou Fuxue looked up at him in astonishment.
Ming Zhu reached out and covered Zhou Fuxue’s eyes before slowly turning around. His pale face still wore that same casual, lazy expression. He curled his lips into a smile and said, "We only stumbled into this place by accident. If we have offended Senior, we hope for your forgiveness. Could you find it in your heart to show mercy and grant us a path to live?"
Anyone dwelling within this Abandoned Sword Tomb was bound to be a wicked soul of the highest order. The man standing before Ming Zhu was draped in a black robe, tall and burly, surrounded by a lingering, pitch-black malevolence that obscured his features. He held a long halberd that rested against the ground, its blade mottled with dried blood. One look was enough to tell he was a ruthless character.
Hearing Ming Zhu’s words, the man let out a low, dark chuckle. "How many years has it been since fresh flesh and blood entered the Abandoned Sword Tomb? With living souls, we can return to the mortal realm. Do you truly think me so naive as to let you go? There is no need for apologies. Just leave your lives behind."
Zhou Fuxue shuddered at the voice, which sounded as though it were steeped in poison. In the places he couldn't see, the blades embedded in the walls of the tomb began to emit a faint, ghostly glow. Then, countless blood-soaked spirits began to crawl out, hands and feet scrambling over the rock. It was a sight that would make anyone’s skin crawl.
Their expressions were wooden, their eyes weeping tears of blood. As one, they began to shuffle toward the pair, whispering in low, rasping voices: "The blood of a living soul..."
Ming Zhu watched this hellish scene. He should have been scared out of his wits, yet his expression remained unchanged. He merely sighed softly. "It makes this junior quite sad that Senior is being so unreasonable. How about this? I’m a thick-skinned fellow with a cheap life; I can stay here. But my Junior Brother is still so young. Why don't you show some mercy and let him go?"
Zhou Fuxue gasped and yanked Ming Zhu’s hand away from his eyes. "Senior Brother..."
But before he could finish his sentence, his gaze swept over the thousands of ghosts swarming around them. He froze instantly, his legs turning to jelly as he nearly collapsed.
Ming Zhu caught him, muttering under his breath, "I told you not to look, but you just had to."
The man sneered. "I think not. Both of you stay."
With that, he raised his halberd and struck it against the ground. A dull thud echoed, and the giant sword suspended in the center of the tomb vibrated with a violent hum. Suddenly, the entire mountain began to shake.
Ming Zhu pressed down on Zhou Fuxue’s shoulder and leaned close to his ear, whispering, "In a moment, run back the way we came. If you’re scared, don't look back. Your Senior Sister Fuhua will be down to get you soon."
Zhou Fuxue asked, "What about you?"
Ming Zhu winked at him, saying with shameless arrogance, "I’m going to kick them all back to where they came from. It’s going to be a very bloody scene—not for children’s eyes. You’ll have nightmares."
Zhou Fuxue: "..."
Even in a situation surrounded by ten thousand ghosts, Zhou Fuxue felt an uncontrollable urge to punch this boastful Senior Brother of his.
The man behind them let out a cold laugh. He struck the ground with his halberd again, and several ropes of black mist erupted from the tip of the blade, lashing out violently toward the "boastful" youth. Simultaneously, the blood-drenched spirits reached them, stretching out rotting hands toward Ming Zhu.
Ming Zhu scooped up the dazed Zhou Fuxue and narrowly dodged the attack. The black ropes slammed into the ground; though they looked light as air, they hit with the weight of a thousand tons, blasting a massive crater into the hard earth and sending dust flying.
Ming Zhu glanced at the crater and immediately began running back toward the passage with Zhou Fuxue in his arms, sighing and lamenting as he went. "I told you that old man Master has a crow's beak—only the bad omens come true. Why did he have to mention the Abandoned Sword Tomb when we were perfectly fine? Talking about 'danger at every step'... Whoa! Nearly hit me! Now he’s got his wish. Cuo Huo... Ah!"
Zhou Fuxue: "..."
Ming Zhu had barely stumbled a few steps when the mangled spirits swarmed forward, pouncing toward him alongside the black ropes.
Zhou Fuxue cried out, "Senior Brother, watch out!"
Even in such peril, Ming Zhu had the leisure to tease him. "The little brat finally knows how to worry about me. I didn't spoil you for nothing."
He acted as though he didn't see the life-threatening spirits behind him. Without stopping, he sprinted to the narrow passage. Then, he grabbed Zhou Fuxue with one hand and threw him inside without mercy. With his other hand, he struck the rock wall above the passage with a palm strike carrying the fire of a red lotus.
Amidst the tremors, a loud crash echoed. As the dust settled, Zhou Fuxue had landed safely inside the passage, while a massive boulder had been dislodged by Ming Zhu’s strike. It rolled perfectly into place, completely blocking the narrow entrance.
The aura of the man with the halberd turned sudden and sinister. He squeezed a sentence through gritted teeth: "Nothing but a waste without spiritual veins!"
In the instant the boulder fell, the last thing Zhou Fuxue saw was the swarm of rotting spirits, their claws and teeth bared, completely submerging Ming Zhu.
***
An unknown amount of time passed before Zhou Fuxue, dazed by the shock of the falling rocks, finally woke up. When he first opened his eyes, his mind was a chaotic mess. It took a few moments for his senses to return.
He recalled everything that had happened before he lost consciousness. His memory cut off at the sight of Ming Zhu being buried under the horde of spirits. He sat on the ground, his eyes hollow and vacant, before suddenly snapping to his senses. In the pitch blackness, he felt for the boulder blocking the entrance and pushed with all his might, desperately trying to move the massive obstacle.
As he gritted his teeth and strained against the rock, his heart was filled with despair. Ming Zhu was usually so cowardly, someone who would scream at the sight of a skeleton. How hopeless must he feel now, facing those terrifying spirits all alone?
Zhou Fuxue grew more frantic, but the boulder blocking the cave didn't budge an inch. Finally, he gave up. He knelt on the ground, burying his head in his arms, and whispered, "Senior Brother..."
He remembered that when Ming Zhu had grabbed his wrist earlier, the man himself had been trembling uncontrollably. He was clearly terrified, yet he had forced himself to act composed just to throw Zhou Fuxue to safety.
The surroundings were pitch black, and the ground seemed to be vibrating slightly.
On the other side of the boulder, after Ming Zhu had sent Zhou Fuxue away, the first wave of spirits swarmed over him like a dark cloud, pinning his slender figure to the ground.
The man with the halberd sneered. The black ropes slowly retracted. Without a second glance at the "waste" who was surely dead, he turned to leave.
At that moment, a wave of scorching heat erupted behind him. He spun around. From the spot where the spirits had swarmed, a burst of red flames surged forth like a blooming lotus, instantly incinerating the pile of dead flesh into ash.
The temperature of the flames was so intense that the spirits trailing behind stopped in their tracks. They began to tremble violently by instinct, too terrified to move forward.
A massive red lotus bloomed, its petals fluttering down like silken sleeves to reveal the figure in the center.
Ming Zhu stood amidst the red lotus as if draped in fire. His dark hair moved without a breeze. He wore a radiant smile; the simple, elegant green robes of Rizhao Mountain seemed to take on a feminine, demonic allure when worn by him.
His lowered hands were still trembling slightly, but not out of fear.
The man’s face finally darkened. "Who are you?"
Ming Zhu reached out, his crimson tongue lightly licking the red lotus mark on the back of his hand. His peach-blossom eyes curved into a captivating arc as he chuckled. "I forgot to mention. This junior is the head disciple of Master Guining of Rizhao Mountain—Ming Zhu."
"Rizhao? Guining? Heh." The man sneered. "Blood Lotus Fire... and it seems there is a Red Lotus Sword as well. And your surname is Ming... What is your relationship to Ming Zhao?"
Ming Zhu’s eyes curved even more beautifully. He pulled a delicate small knife from his sleeve—the very one Teacher Dao had called "Kua Yu" during the morning lessons at Rizhao Mountain.
"Ming Zhao?" He tilted his head, shedding his usual frivolous air. However, his laziness was bone-deep; his eyes remained languidly hooded, and the red tear-mark beneath his eye looked as though it might drip blood. "He is my enemy. Why? Do you know him?"
The halberd in the man’s hand began to vibrate involuntarily, shaking so hard he could barely hold it. Before he could answer Ming Zhu’s question, he barked at the trembling weapon, "Be still!"
The halberd continued to shudder.
Ming Zhu suddenly laughed. His face was truly too exquisite; merely standing there, he exerted a heart-stopping pressure.
"I’m afraid it won't be still," Ming Zhu said calmly. At the same time, the "Kua Yu" he was toyed with in his hand let out a crisp, ringing hum. A flash of red light followed, and a radiant, shimmering longsword appeared in Ming Zhu’s palm.
The man froze, his face turning pale beneath the black mist. "How is this possible? You are clearly a waste without spiritual veins. How can you have a natal artifact spirit?"
Ming Zhu chuckled softly. His slender fingers brushed over the scabbard, which was carved with ancient, elegant patterns. He lowered his long lashes and said nonchalantly, "Oh, I just remembered. My Ninth Junior Brother wanted some spiritual weapons to study that 'Wind from an Empty Cave' theory. I think that halberd of yours looks quite decent."
The halberd trembled even more violently.
Ming Zhu unsheathed the Kua Yu sword with a light touch. He tilted his head slightly and said with a smile, "Kua Yu, go get it for me."
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 袂云汗雨 | Like a dark cloud / In swarms | Lit. "sleeves like clouds, sweat like rain"; used to describe a massive crowd. |
| 血莲火 | Blood Lotus Fire | Ming Zhu's specific flame technique. |
| 红莲剑 | Red Lotus Sword | A legendary sword associated with the Ming family. |
| 明昭 | Ming Zhao | A name mentioned by the enemy, seemingly related to Ming Zhu. |
| 夸玉 | Kua Yu | The name of Ming Zhu's weapon (initially appeared as a small knife). |
| 本命器灵 | Natal Artifact Spirit | A spirit residing within a cultivator's soul-bound weapon. |
| 空穴不来风 | Wind from an Empty Cave | An idiom, here used as the name of a technique or research topic by the Ninth Junior Brother. |
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