Ming Zhao casually swept out a hand, condensing a vast expanse of demonic energy into a protective barrier. He lowered his eyes to look at the gruesome wound on his waist and muttered softly, "That actually hurts quite a bit."
The Red Lotus Sword surged forward, wreathed in blood-red flames. It slammed into his barrier, tearing a jagged rift through it. Sparks darted through the crack, and in an instant, the dispersing demonic energy was violently ignited.
Ming Zhu’s blood-drenched left hand was twisted at an unnatural angle. Half of his long hair had fallen loose, whipping wildly in the fierce wind.
Flames coiled around him. The Kuayu Sword, which should have been following him, shrank back in terror, unable to endure the heat. Only the Red Lotus Sword remained under his control, battering against Ming Zhao again and again.
The power of the Red Lotus Sword was far too formidable. Wherever it passed, the flames did not fade, reducing everything to ash. Even with Ming Zhao’s peak cultivation, he could not meet it head-on; he was forced to flee somewhat disheveledly, using his demonic energy to dodge.
In mere moments, the entire top floor had become a sea of fire. The bell tower groaned, on the verge of collapse, as the massive ancient bell vibrated, letting out a series of deep, distant tolls.
Ming Zhao was nearly riddled with holes, half his body soaked in blood, yet he was still laughing. His grey robes fluttered as his figure suddenly shot into the air. Looking down at Ming Zhu amidst the sea of fire, he said in a low voice, "Zhu’er, look at yourself now. Violent, bloodthirsty, unable to distinguish friend from foe—is this not the influence of your father’s cold-blooded lineage? Hahaha! And you claimed we weren't the same kind of person? Do you even believe that yourself?"
His eyes crimson, Ming Zhu—who thought of nothing but striking Ming Zhao down—heard these words through a haze. He froze. He lifted his head dazed, seeing nothing but a blurry, shimmering world of scarlet shadows.
It wasn't until a faint cough sounded from the side that he seemed to be jolted awake from the nightmare.
He turned his confused gaze toward the sound, and his pupils suddenly constricted. Zhou Fuxue was slumped on the ground, clutching a bleeding arm—perhaps wounded by the rampaging Red Lotus Sword earlier—and was staring at him with an expression full of horror.
The brilliant, surging flames surrounding Ming Zhu were instantly extinguished, as if doused by a bucket of cold water. He opened his hands tremulously, staring at the flickering scarlet sparks that had yet to die out. Just like that time at Mount Baijian when he had used the Red Lotus fire to execute the man with the halberd, he was overcome with panic and dread.
Ming Zhao watched as Ming Zhu’s aura vanished in an instant. He seemed to feel a touch of regret and prepared to descend to seize the demon core. However, in the next heartbeat, he sensed something. His eyes turned cold, and he let out a sharp "tch." Looking down at the gradually stabilizing Ming Zhu, he said indifferently, "Nuisances truly do come one after another. Son, we shall meet again."
With a wave of his sleeve, he vanished into the air.
The tolling of the bell continued to echo. The countless flames on the top floor seemed to be drawn by some force, flowing continuously back into the mark on Ming Zhu’s left hand. Within moments, not a single spark remained on the tower. If not for the blackened, scorched walls, one might have thought it was all an illusion.
Ming Zhu knelt on the ground, shivering as he pressed the sharp blade of the Red Lotus Sword against the mark on his left hand. Because he did not know how to control the sword, his left hand was already a bloody mess, with white bone peeking through in places. Yet he seemed oblivious to the pain, repeatedly trying to force the sharp blade back into his flesh and blood.
"Go back..." His face was drenched, though it was impossible to tell if it was sweat or tears. "Hurry, go back... go back..."
Zhou Fuxue tentatively stepped forward and knelt beside him, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder. "Senior Brother?"
Ming Zhu looked up, his eyes filled with terror and fear. His voice shook. "Fu... Fuxue, you... make it go back... I can't pull it back..."
Zhou Fuxue’s eyes narrowed. Expressionlessly, he snatched the scalding Red Lotus Sword and tossed it aside without a second glance. Then, he opened his arms and pulled Ming Zhu into a tight embrace.
Despite having been surrounded by such scorching flames just moments ago, Ming Zhu’s slender body was ice-cold. When he was enveloped by the slight warmth of Zhou Fuxue’s body, the sudden heat made him shudder violently. His eyes widened in daze.
"Senior Brother, don't be afraid. Don't be afraid anymore. I'm here..." Zhou Fuxue stroked Ming Zhu’s back again and again, his voice gentler than it had ever been. "You aren't like him. You're different. Senior Brother is the best..."
Ming Zhu trembled all over. He tilted his head back desperately, as if grasping at a final straw, looking at Zhou Fuxue with a gaze that was both pleading and greedy. His lips quivered. "Not... not the same? I... he and I..."
Zhou Fuxue touched his head and said firmly, word by word, "You are different."
Ming Zhu stared at him blankly as tears fell in torrents. He seemed to want to reach out and hug Zhou Fuxue to ensure he wasn't dreaming, but his left hand hung uselessly at his side, and his right arm was too weak and limp to move. In the end, he could only open his mouth and bite down on the silk ribbon of Zhou Fuxue’s front lapel, letting out a choked sob from his throat.
This soft, vulnerable display made Zhou Fuxue’s heart melt completely. The hand stroking the back of Ming Zhu’s head became even more tender. "Don't be afraid. It's okay now."
Clutching the thin ribbon between his teeth, Ming Zhu’s tears fell slowly. He choked out, "I didn't want it to be like this. I... I just wanted to live a good life... *Ugh*... I..."
Zhou Fuxue said, "I know."
Ming Zhu buried himself deep in Zhou Fuxue’s embrace, weeping silently.
By the time Shen Hongchuan came up, Zhou Fuxue was already carrying the exhausted Ming Zhu in his arms. Seeing Shen Hongchuan, he nodded slightly to indicate that everything was fine.
Shen Hongchuan finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Suddenly, a clattering sound of clashing weapons reached their ears. The two followed the sound and saw the Kuayu Sword, its entire blade shrouded in a dark, gloomy aura. It was using its hilt to pin the now-subdued Red Lotus Sword against the wall, slamming into it repeatedly. It looked like it was throwing a fit and beating someone up.
Shen Hongchuan: "..."
He withdrew his gaze without changing his expression and said, "Let's go. Let's head down." *I didn't see anything.*
The news of the death of Nan Yue, the Master of Lueyue Pavilion, spread through Shuoyu City almost overnight. Carried by the disciples of Wenfeng Tower, the news spread like wildfire across the Five Continents; within a few days, the entire world would know.
Early the next morning, Shen Hongchuan returned from outside with a frown. As soon as he went upstairs, he saw Lu Qingkong sitting outside Ming Zhu’s room, nodding off intermittently with a face full of exhaustion.
Shen Hongchuan clicked his tongue, walked over, and gave him a kick. "Hey, what are you loitering here for? If you want to sleep, go back to your own room."
Lu Qingkong opened his eyes blearily. Seeing that the sky outside had already brightened, he let out a listless yawn and muttered, "That little ancestor was running a high fever all night. Zhou Fuxue and I took turns watching him for most of the night. I was too lazy to go back—hm? What’s that in your hand? An Extermination Order?"
At the mention of this, Shen Hongchuan’s expression soured. He tossed the Extermination Order to Lu Qingkong and rubbed his brow. "It was just issued. I only wanted him to come to Shuoyu City to have some fun. Why does trouble keep finding him?"
Lu Qingkong spread open the brand-new Extermination Order. He took a casual glance and was instantly jolted awake. This was a new Extermination Order for Ming Zhu, and it stated that as long as he was dead, the reward was terrifyingly high. The signature...
Lu Qingkong said in disbelief, "—Lueyue Pavilion? Nan Qinghe?!"
Shen Hongchuan nodded tiredly.
"Wait..." Lu Qingkong said. "That little brat who only knows how to bleat like a lamb—wasn't he quite attached to Eldest Senior Brother? Why would he suddenly issue an Extermination Order? Where did you get this?"
Shen Hongchuan was somewhat impatient. "It’s already spread everywhere outside. Where else could I get it? In the history of the Five Continents, there has never been someone who received two Extermination Orders within three days. Senior Brother, he..."
Lu Qingkong: "Why?"
Shen Hongchuan looked at the half-closed door and said softly, "When we came back last night, we ran into Nan Qinghe..."
Last night, when Shen Hongchuan and Zhou Fuxue were bringing Ming Zhu down from the bell tower, Nan Qinghe was standing outside Lueyue Pavilion. He was watching as people gathered Xi Chu’s mangled remains bit by bit. His eyes were hollow and void. His mind had nearly collapsed; perhaps because he had gone so completely mad, he possessed a strange, eerie detachment.
When he saw the blood-covered Ming Zhu, his cold face showed no emotion. He merely stared coldly at the patch of purple-tinged blood on Ming Zhu’s chest.
The blood of a demon is different from that of an ordinary person; it carries a strange demonic purple within the crimson. Even though Ming Zhu was covered in blood, Nan Qinghe recognized Xi Chu’s blood on his lapel at a single glance.
The young boy’s eyes were wide. He walked a few steps with an unnatural gait and stopped in front of Zhou Fuxue. He looked hollowly at the unconscious Ming Zhu and suddenly spoke: "Is he... dead?"
Shen Hongchuan’s expression darkened.
Nan Qinghe reached out and touched Ming Zhu’s lapel. His fingertips were stained with the eerie blood of the demon. For some reason, the boy suddenly gave a soft laugh—his lips curled up, his brows arched slightly, and his features formed an expression of joy, yet it was so bizarre that no one present could actually feel that he was laughing.
Shen Hongchuan didn't want to deal with this madman. He said to Zhou Fuxue, "Let's go."
Zhou Fuxue gave an "en" and was about to walk around Nan Qinghe when the boy’s deathly pale hand suddenly grabbed Ming Zhu’s limp, blood-stained left hand.
"Brother Ming..."
Zhou Fuxue instinctively paused. Turning back, he saw the boy suddenly grin, seemingly trying his best to put on his usual cheerful expression. However, those eyes were like dried-up wells, devoid of any light.
Nan Qinghe stared fixedly at Ming Zhu’s exquisite face, maintaining that grotesque expression, and said, "Xi Chu is dead. Brother Ming... why are you still alive?"
Shen Hongchuan flew into a rage. He stepped forward and grabbed Nan Qinghe by the collar, his demonic eyes flashing. "Do you have a death wish?"
Nan Qinghe, who usually had the courage of a rabbit, didn't move an inch even when faced with Shen Hongchuan’s murderous gaze. Without changing his expression, he tilted his head to look at Ming Zhu and continued, "Weren't you... supposed to die together? Why are you... still alive?"
Zhou Fuxue held Ming Zhu tighter, a look of disgust appearing on his face.
Shen Hongchuan also realized that the boy had likely been driven into a demonic stupor by Xi Chu’s death. He didn't waste any more words, simply shoved him aside, and led Zhou Fuxue away.
And the next day, the Extermination Order for Ming Zhu once again spread across the entire Five Continents.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 诛伐令 | Extermination Order | A high-level bounty or warrant for execution. |
| 南清河 | Nan Qinghe | The young master of Lueyue Pavilion. |
| 闻风楼 | Wenfeng Tower | Likely an information-gathering organization (lit. "Hear the Wind Tower"). |
| 五洲 | Five Continents | The world setting of the novel. |
