Xiao Nanhui dug a small pit to bury the Xu moth and fed Jixiang some dried mushrooms.
This island in the middle of the lake was far larger than she had imagined. Looking around at the vast, hazy expanse, she wondered how she would ever find him.
But just because she couldn't find him didn't mean others couldn't.
Whether it was Lu Songping’s previous tight-lipped silence, the unusual movements within the Black Feather Camp before she left the city, or the government ships mentioned by the fisherman—all signs pointed to the fact that there were others on this island.
Based on her past military experience, a commander would generally not choose a low-lying area for a camp, especially when the mission required stealth. The vegetation on this island was sparse, consisting mostly of gravel and rocky shores. If they stayed in the lowlands, any movement would inevitably compromise their concealment and expose their position.
After observing the terrain for a moment, she followed a stream upward. By sunset, she finally approached the first piece of high ground on the island.
The faint scent of burning wood hung in the air. She carefully moved upwind and soon spotted the flickering light of a camp's perimeter.
Jixiang caught the scent of fresh beans in a manger and took a few spineless steps forward, but she pulled the horse back firmly.
She didn't think Ding Weixiang would want to see her right now. She had gone to such great lengths to get here; if she were carelessly caught and packed off back home, wouldn't she be failing the wind-swept Jixiang and that dead moth?
After preparing herself, she tied Jixiang in a hidden spot and headed toward the camp alone. The memory of the arrow she had taken at the Black Feather Camp in Bijiang was still fresh, so she moved with extreme caution. However, she also considered that the situation was different now; she had spent time in the Black Feather Camp, and if she could identify a trusted old acquaintance once she got closer, they might offer her some assistance.
But after watching from the shadows for a while, she realized the faces in this camp were entirely unfamiliar. Even their uniforms were strange—they were neither Black Feather nor Guangyao, nor were they Yanchi or Subei troops. There weren't many people in the camp, but dozens of tents had been pitched. They were pitch-black inside with no lamps lit, and she couldn't tell what they contained.
She pondered for a moment, remembering the Yueze Army that had surrendered from Bai Heliu's command during the Spring Sacrifice in Yu'an. She seemed to understand something, yet doubt remained. Finding a gap during the sentry rotation, she slipped into the nearest tent, peeled back the edge of the oilcloth, and crawled inside.
It was dark, but the space was filled with haystacks. Pushing the hay aside, she could vaguely see wooden barrels beneath. They were half a person tall and four feet wide, stacked two layers high, one against the other.
After a moment's hesitation, she drew the dagger from her waist and stabbed the top of a barrel. When she pulled it out, she lightly sniffed the black liquid clinging to the blade.
A pungent odor pierced her nostrils, and her expression froze in shock.
It was fire oil.
She moved to another side to check; without exception, the entire tent was filled with fire oil.
This was just one tent, and a rough glance suggested there were dozens of barrels. There were dozens of such tents in this camp alone. Combined with the other camps on the island, there must be thousands of barrels of fire oil.
Perhaps the haystacks weren't meant to hide the barrels, but to serve as kindling.
She suddenly understood the real reason why he had entered the enemy camp alone and secretly arranged for Ding Weixiang to come here.
To completely eradicate the Puhuna, one first had to locate the "God" the Shen family spoke of. After their previous encounters, "It" would only be more cautious and would not reveal its true form unless absolutely necessary. That necessary moment would surely involve the final descent ritual, and he was the target of that descent.
She also knew that "It" could escape using human forms and had the help of Puhuna believers. This had been going on for over a century; they were mobile, hidden, and cunning. Finding them was like looking for a louse in a felt rug—even an army of hundreds of thousands would be useless. Therefore, this was the final chance. A single strike could eliminate the threat to the dynasty forever and save the world from ruin. If it failed, they intended to go down in flames together. As long as no one could leave this isolated island, neither the Puhuna nor "It" would ever return to the mortal realm. The throne could be held by another capable person, and the legend of the God would finally come to an end.
From the moment they stepped onto the island, there was no turning back for anyone.
And she was the last companion on this road of no return.
Crawling out of the tent and carefully lowering the oilcloth, Xiao Nanhui looked at the white frost forming on the grass. She sighed first, then gave a soft smile.
Though it was a road of no return, she wasn't the only one walking it. There were many fellow travelers. Thinking of it this way, everything didn't seem quite so heavy. It wasn't just her; many people who cared deeply for this cause had made the same choice as she had, willing to give everything for it.
She looked up at the sky; the moon was nearing its zenith. A mass of dark clouds in the distance was about to swallow the stars and moon, and the damp, cold air preceding an autumn rain began to stir.
When would they act? Would they wait until dawn?
She didn't want to sit and wait, so she decided to scout for information first. But with so many tents, she wasn't sure which was the main one. Just as she was considering a plan, a figure suddenly appeared by the small stream not far away. She had finally seen her first acquaintance since arriving on the island.
It was Luo He.
She couldn't see his expression clearly, only the man pacing alone on the rocky shore by the stream, occasionally scratching his head in agitation. He looked extremely restless.
She was familiar with those movements; it was the characteristic reaction of an alcoholic who couldn't get a drink.
She looked down at her waist.
Perhaps it truly was the will of Heaven manipulating everything, pushing fate toward its predetermined path.
She didn't know where this path would lead, but as long as she knew he was up ahead, she wasn't afraid at all.
Xiao Nanhui paused for only a moment before untying the wine flask from her waist.
She unscrewed the cap, and the uniquely crisp fragrance of *Yunye Xian* wine drifted out. The cold wind blew, carrying the scent downstream.
Sure enough, after a short while, that restless shadow seemed to be pulled by an invisible hand, involuntarily walking upstream. He stopped and started until he saw the wine skin resting by the roots of a tree.
Luo He’s eyes lit up. Rubbing his hands, he stepped forward and snatched up the wine skin, thinking some high-ranking officer had been drinking in secret and he had lucked out. But just as he was about to bring it to his lips, his collar was suddenly yanked tight from behind. He was hoisted up and dragged behind the tree, and a low voice hissed in his ear.
"Tell me, what do you know?"
The man, caught while trying to steal wine, struggled desperately. Just as he was about to cry out, his jaw was gripped firmly.
"If you scream, I'll dislocate your jaw."
The voice sounded familiar. He strained his neck to look back and saw a face he recognized.
"You... you... why are you here?"
The other person ignored his question and asked instead, "When do they move?"
He struggled hard, trying to make his posture look less pathetic, but he couldn't budge an inch.
How was this woman so strong?
"They said tonight. They told me to wait outside. By now, they should have already..."
She asked urgently, "How long has it been?"
Luo He answered hesitantly, "About... half an hour."
There might still be a chance to catch up. She pressed further, "Which way did they go? Where were they headed?"
He slowly raised his hand, pointing toward the end of the stream.
"The stone gate upstream. Once past the stone gate, I don't know." After a pause, he added in a small voice, "I don't think we should get involved in this mess, should we?"
This wine-craving man looked to be at least fifty, but those slightly timid and aggrieved eyes somehow reminded her of Wu Xiaoliu.
That fat fellow—she wondered how he was doing now.
Working in the military meant the mission came first, and that often required certain methods. In the past, to ensure total success and keep herself hidden, the best decision would have been to force Luo He to lead her into the valley. But after everything that happened in Bijiang, she now considered things more carefully before acting.
It wasn't a softening of the heart; she had simply learned to understand.
They were just ordinary people. They weren't like her, willing to gamble their lives. They shouldn't be dragged into this bloodbath.
"If you get the chance, find a boat and leave this place. This matter has nothing to do with you."
Xiao Nanhui let go, and Luo He hit the ground. By the time he looked up, the woman had already taken the wine skin and left alone.
After a long time, a sigh drifted by the silently flowing stream.
"It's not... entirely unrelated."
****** ****** ******
Outside the valley, the wild grass was head-high and the rocks were jagged.
Xiao Nanhui lay prone in the grass downwind, quietly watching the Tiancheng troops resting near the valley entrance not far ahead.
It was a cavalry squad of no more than a hundred men, but even a cursory glance told her they were unusual. The leader was Ding Weixiang, and the dozen or so men following closely behind him were all secret guards. Their skills seemed much higher than those she had seen at the Black Feather Camp. Besides them, there were three officers with feathered plumes, each leading a dozen experts—all elites from various camps, many of them young officers who had already earned military merit.
Thinking of the fate of this island after tonight, her gaze couldn't help but slide over those young faces one by one. Their expressions were calm, but she wondered if, in some distant place, they also had loved ones waiting for them to return home under old roof tiles.
"Lieutenant Ding, there are words on the stone tablet."
the secret guard's voice pulled her thoughts back.
She focused her gaze on the valley entrance in the night. Only then did she notice a plain, square stone tablet beneath the stone archway. It had no carvings or decorations, nor was it carried by a mythical beast. It was weathered and mottled, covered in thick moss. Ding Weixiang approached with a torch, and she could just barely make out two dilapidated ancient characters on the tablet.
*Xiacheng.*
Was this the boundary stone of Buxu Valley? What did "Xiacheng" mean?
Several commanders standing by the tablet were talking in low voices, clearly having a disagreement. She strained to hear but couldn't make out the words, so she turned her gaze aside.
A carriage was parked under the stone archway.
Few people ever visited Buxu Valley, let alone this desolate entrance. But beyond being eerie, the carriage looked somewhat familiar—it seemed very similar to the one they had used before.
Ding Weixiang also paused when he saw the carriage. He turned and whispered a few instructions to the secret guards behind him. Someone went forward to inspect it and then drove the carriage away.
Seeing the carriage coming her way, Xiao Nanhui quickly dodged and returned to the large rock where Jixiang was tied.
Jixiang was restless. She quickly soothed the horse in a low voice. As she stroked the horse's flank, a thought suddenly struck her. She looked back at the empty carriage and became even more certain of her suspicion.
A hundred paces away, Ding Weixiang and the others had dismounted. They handed their horses to two men, while the rest proceeded on foot into the depths of the wild grass.
Xiao Nanhui knew she had no more time to waste. She turned and unloaded everything from Jixiang. Finally, after a moment of hesitation, she reached out and removed the saddle and bridle as well, leaving only her waist token from the Guangyao Camp.
The mottled horse, which had grown three sizes fatter, felt the weight lift. It first spun in a happy circle, then suddenly went quiet, staring at its master without moving.
She didn't dare look into those eyes. She reached out and slapped the flank she had patted countless times.
"Go."
The furry, warm flank didn't move away. Instead, the horse nudged closer to her. After rubbing its rear against her, it turned its head, trying to nibble her hair as it used to. In the next instant, the woman grabbed a nearby branch and struck the horse hard.
"Go!"
Jixiang gave a low cry and involuntarily backed up half a step. When it tried to approach again, it was struck once more.
She didn't have a riding crop. From the first day she met Jixiang, she had never hit the horse.
The horse finally stopped approaching. It retreated hesitantly to a spot a hundred meters away, hiding behind a cluster of jujube trees to watch her secretly.
Xiao Nanhui fought down the bitterness in her eyes and gave one last wave of the branch.
"Go on."
Tossing the branch aside, she turned and walked away quickly, not daring to look back.
The heavy clouds finally swallowed the stars and moon overhead. The wind off the island changed direction, bringing the fishy scent of Ming Lake onto the land.
Ding Weixiang and the others were moving ahead in the darkness. The wind blew, and the wild grass rustled, masking their footsteps. She had to stop frequently to check the marks on the ground to discern their path.
After traveling less than half a mile, her foot suddenly sank. Her past experience in the northern marshes made her stop immediately. She waited quietly for a moment before slowly lifting her foot.
Sure enough, she was standing on floating mats of vegetation within a swamp. Flexible vines were intertwined within the mats, floating in the mire like a net. An ordinary person or a small animal could enter without much trouble, but a horse or a carriage would eventually sink deep into it, no matter how careful they were.
This was the meaning of the stone tablet marked "Xiacheng"—The Lower Path.
In the next instant, a faint cry for help sounded to her front left.
She stiffened. Testing the ground with a sturdy stick she found, she made her way toward the sound.
Pushing aside dead branches and wild grass, she saw a secret guard struggling at the edge of a mud pit, half his body already submerged.
The more strength he used and the harder he struggled, the faster he sank. Cold, suffocation, despair—no one understood that feeling better than she did.
Ultimately, she couldn't restrain herself. she stepped forward quickly, grabbed the man's armor, and hauled him out with a surge of strength.
Almost simultaneously, Ding Weixiang’s voice rang out from above her.
"Following us all this way—aren't you tired?"
She let go of the man and stood with her hands on her hips, panting. The rescued guard, however, looked perfectly calm. She realized then that she had been lured into a trap.
Like father, like son; like master, like servant. A stubborn teacher breeds a rogue disciple, and a cunning master keeps a vicious hound.
Xiao Nanhui didn't want to say a single word. She knocked the mud off her boots and continued forward, her steps uneven. Behind her, Ding Weixiang gave a few low orders and then followed.
"Why did you follow us?"
Did he think she *wanted* to follow? She glanced at him and huffed, "I don't know the way."
"I'm not asking about right now. I'm asking why you followed us to the island?"
She stopped and turned to look at the swordsman, who had changed into armor. "And why are you here?"
"Naturally, it's because..." Ding Weixiang stopped mid-sentence. Seeing the look in the woman's eyes, he realized what she was about to say and swallowed the rest of his explanation. "Forget it."
At this stage, some things really didn't need to be said anymore.
The atmosphere returned to silence.
In the night, numerous black shadows moved silently toward the depths of the valley, like fireflies that had lost their cold light, throwing themselves resolutely toward an invisible flame.
At the edge of the swamp, the view gradually opened up. The wild grass receded, leaving only a vast field of giant boulders, appearing even more desolate.
In the center of the grayish-white rocky shore stood a bluish-black stone tablet. It was of the same design as the previous one, but the characters had changed.
Upon seeing the words on the tablet, everyone fell silent in unison.
The words "Qijin"—Discarding Metal—were neatly carved into the stone.
With the previous experience of "Xiacheng," "Qijin" was not hard to understand.
*Jin* referred to weapons.
Legend had it that in ancient times, during great sacrifices, emperors would enter Buxu Valley to pay their respects. However, even the Son of Heaven had to step down from his carriage and walk through the mud. Not only that, but one was not permitted to carry weapons past this point.
This was the valley's way of asserting dominance over visitors—the overwhelming pressure of a god looking down upon mortals.
"If we discard our weapons here, aren't we just retreating without a fight and leaving ourselves to be slaughtered?"
A young officer from the Guangyao Camp raised an objection, and the Yanchi Camp immediately echoed him.
"I think this broken stone was probably put here on purpose to make us lose our nerve. We must not fall for the enemy's trick."
"Lieutenant, please reconsider..."
The commanders were silent. Xiao Nanhui looked at Ding Weixiang, who remained perfectly calm.
"Remove your armor."
the eleven secret guards paused for only a moment before efficiently unbuckling their chainmail.
A dozen sets of armor hit the ground simultaneously, sending an echo through the valley. The others remained silent. Except for a few in the Yanchi Camp who followed suit, the Guangyao and Yueze camps made no move.
At the threshold of life and death, the slightest compromise would be magnified into a tenfold danger. No one was willing to yield.
Ding Weixiang knew this as well, so he said no more and led the group across the rocky shore.
Xiao Nanhui glanced at the familiar green clothes he now wore and said quickly, "This outfit looks much better on you."
Ding Weixiang looked back at her, about to say something, when a sudden noise came from ahead.
The three scouts at the front of the triangular formation suddenly collapsed. Xiao Nanhui was startled, thinking they had hit some kind of ambush, but after stepping forward to check, she realized the three had fallen on their own.
They had been crushed by their own armor.
It wasn't just the armor, but also their respective swords and weapons. The weapons they usually used to kill enemies now felt as heavy as a thousand pounds. The dozen or so men wearing Guangyao armor found it impossible to move; the heavy armor instantly made it difficult for them to breathe or even stand.
Belatedly, she touched the Jiejia sword at her waist, her mind racing to calculate the cause of all this.
This rocky shore was strange; it seemed to exert an invisible force on weapons and armor, making them several times heavier than usual.
But for some reason, although Jiejia was also a weapon, it hadn't become heavy.
Beside her, Ding Weixiang was struggling to sheath his saber. Seeing her expression, he stepped forward and looked at the Jiejia sword.
"That sword in your hand is a bronze sword forged according to ancient methods. It's quite different from everyone else's weapons. Few people use them nowadays."
Xiao Nanhui was stunned, then realized: this field of boulders only affected iron.
Li Yuanyuan had spent years forging this sword, and the *Manual of Sword Forging* had been found in an ancient text—perhaps from a time close to when Buxu Valley was built. The Puhuna had existed for a long time, and their primary weapons were flying lines. Even if the lines contained iron, they were thin and light; they wouldn't lose their combat effectiveness instantly like heavy sabers. On the contrary, the added weight would only increase their lethality.
Tonight was destined to be a fierce battle.
But without armor or suitable weapons, how were they to fight these sinister enemies to the end?
"This mission is different from any before. If anyone does not wish to continue, Tiancheng will not prosecute you under military law. I only ask that you retreat to the shore and hold it until the very last moment."
Ding Weixiang’s words fell, and for a long time, no one answered.
Finally, the first young officer began to unbuckle his armor and stood up, leaning on his sword.
"I will not retreat."
One by one, the young figures followed suit, discarding their heavy armor.
"No retreat!"
Their determined voices echoed across the rocky shore.
Ding Weixiang slowly lifted his scabbard and held it in his hand, giving a faint nod.
"Move out."
The rocky shore was less than ten miles long, yet it took Tiancheng’s most elite squad a full hour to cross it.
Finally, they reached the end of the rocks. But the force dragging the weapons down did not disappear.
The group struggled to the top of a steep slope and found themselves on a flat plateau.
Everything around them was pitch black, save for an ancient pagoda standing in the center of the plateau. As they drew closer, they saw that the pagoda looked seventy to eighty percent similar to the Lihen Tower in Zhongli. The difference was that this pagoda was clearly much older and simpler in design. Aside from the body of the tower built of rammed earth and stone, only a dull gray stone pillar at the top gave it the appearance of a pagoda.
Ten paces in front of the tower stood the third stone tablet they had encountered since entering the valley. Two characters were carved upon it: "Tuifan"—Retreating from the Mortal.
Xiao Nanhui and Ding Weixiang fell silent in unison.
*Tuifan*—the mortal must retreat.
Only the God and the faithful may pass.
Beyond this boundary lay the altar. The person who erected this final tablet did not intend for anyone to cross this line, let alone set foot on the sacrificial grounds.
But she could not retreat.
And neither did the others intend to.
Ding Weixiang drew his saber and, with a swift, clean strike, shattered the nearly decayed stone tablet.
This was a resolution, a declaration. A declaration that they had cast aside the God's final warning to mortals.
"Zong Hao didn't come? What a pity."
A voice suddenly rang out across the plateau. Ding Weixiang didn't move from his spot, only shifting his eyes.
Dozens of black shadows slowly approached from all directions. The woman who had spoken gradually revealed herself; her unadorned face bore a striking scar.
Ding Weixiang looked at Xiao Dai, while using his peripheral vision to count the number of enemies lying in ambush.
"He already sent his regards when he was at Douchen Ridge. Didn't you know?"
Xiao Dai gave a cold snort. "As expected of someone from the Andaoyuan, a lapdog of the imperial family. Even at a time like this, you can still speak such boastful words."
Ding Weixiang said no more, but Xiao Nanhui was somewhat dazed.
She looked at the woman's desolate figure in the evening wind, and in a daze, she remembered those countless afternoons—the gentle long hair swinging back and forth on the swing.
She opened her mouth, her voice a bit raspy. "Aunt Dai, step aside."
Xiao Dai didn't look at her, her voice devoid of emotion. "Why should I step aside? I made a promise. I cannot let a single person in."
Before Xiao Nanhui could say anything else, a figure suddenly stumbled out and collapsed onto the ground, whether from drunkenness or hesitation.
"A-Zhu, it's your brother's fault. Come home with me. Once we're back, you can do whatever you want, alright? I've talked to them; they won't make things hard for you..."
the woman's somewhat vacant gaze slowly fell upon the man's face. There was no pain in her voice, only exhaustion.
"You've come too late. We no longer have a home. Where could we possibly go back to?"
Luo He tore off the ill-fitting officer's cap, revealing his entire face. His unruly tongue struggled to express his hopes.
"You still have me. I've saved up a lot of silver. I'll take you back to Zhongli. We'll plant some more pear trees, how about that..."
"Don't let them deceive you." Xiao Dai’s eyes slowly narrowed, and her voice grew cold. "They say gods and ghosts are hard to fathom, but in truth, it is humans who are full of lies and the least trustworthy. To protect his empire and his heirs, the Su clan chose to wipe out everyone who knew the prophecy. He not only used the Bai family but also deceived the Puhuna, making everyone believe the Xiao family were the ones in the prophecy. But the Way of Heaven comes full circle; his bloodline cannot escape the fate that belongs to him."
Hearing this, Xiao Nanhui finally couldn't help but step forward. "Where is he?"
Xiao Dai smiled silently and lightly raised her arms. "Why don't you look for him yourself?"
Before her words had even faded, the sharp sound of air being sliced whistled from all directions.
She was all too familiar with this sound, and Ding Weixiang was already prepared.
After a brief pause, there was the synchronized sound of blades being drawn. A hundred warriors fanned out according to their pre-arranged formation, engaging in a life-and-death struggle with Xiao Dai and the Puhuna hiding in the shadows.
The world was a chaotic blur, and everyone fought with bloodshot eyes. In every instant, blood flashed and souls returned to heaven. It was kill or be killed; the dancing blades never stopped until the other side fell.
Xiao Nanhui swung Jiejia, killing from five paces to ten, then being pushed back from ten to five. Human blood made the hilt so slippery she almost couldn't grip it, but she had no time to wipe it, only waiting for the wind to dry it.
But before the old blood could congeal, new blood arrived.
In a daze, the silver light filling the sky seemed to become slow and stagnant. Splattering blood droplets suspended in mid-air, stopping right before her eyes.
In every whistling moment that had just passed, she had been so close to death.
If... if her twenty-odd years of life were to end tonight, was she ready to say goodbye to everything in this world?
"Xiao Nanhui, on your right!"
A familiar voice rang out. She dodged instinctively as a silver light streaked from the right, narrowly missing her head.
She focused her energy, found the right moment, and swung Jiejia with all her might. With a *clang*, she severed the flying line, then used the momentum to surge forward, kicking over the person controlling the line and slitting their throat with a single stroke.
The white figure who had called out earlier scrambled to her side, clutching her hem tightly.
"Thank heavens, my dear lady! You've got to keep those eyes of yours wide open! Even if you didn't sleep well last night, don't you dare doze off now!"
Xiao Nanhui pushed Hao Bai away forcefully, exasperated. "Who told you to come here?! And wearing something so conspicuous! Don't cling to me!"
A killing blow flew over her head. Hao Bai ducked and simply lay flat on the ground. Reaching out, he pulled another person from behind a rock.
Yikong was clutching a sheepskin box, lying on the ground in the same posture as Hao Bai.
"This monk is different from Benefactor Hao. I am here because my master, Master Wu Min, is buried in the stupa behind you..."
Wu Min?
The murals in the Shen family caves, the Zhongli family prophecy, and the ancient legends of the Qu family all flashed through her mind at once, making her realize a fact in an instant.
None of this was a coincidence. Master Wu Min had chosen to be buried here after his passing precisely because there was something hidden within Buxu Valley. And the reason Yikong appeared here was likely because he had known something all along.
Not far away, a secret guard had his arm severed by a flying line. Before she could go to his aid, the screaming figure was torn to shreds by the following wind blades.
A surge of uncontrollable anger rose within her. She turned to glare at Yikong.
"You knew all along that the Puhuna would eventually come here, yet you refused to say anything?! Whose side are you on? Do you believe in Buddha or those demons and monsters?!"
The young monk's eyes remained honest, and his voice was still calm and steady. "This monk had no intention of hiding it. It was only due to my master's instructions that I didn't dare trust anyone easily until the final moment. Furthermore, I am not as agile as you warriors. One mistake and I would be meeting the Buddha prematurely. Thus, although I arrived here early, I didn't dare show myself until you all arrived. Benefactor Hao can testify for me; to help you all, the wooden fish in my main hall still has a dent in it..."
Xiao Nanhui laughed out of sheer anger. "He can barely look after himself, and he's going to testify for you?"
Not far away, Xiao Dai’s figure was swaying in front of the ancient pagoda, seemingly reaching some kind of limit. Remembering An Lü's fate, Xiao Nanhui felt a pang of anxiety, but she signaled to Ding Weixiang nearby to finish the fight quickly.
Ding Weixiang understood. Leading the remaining secret guards, he tore an opening in the enemy lines and headed straight for Xiao Dai. Xiao Nanhui cut down a Puhuna member, clumsily dodging the flying lines everywhere. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the young monk clutching the box and crawling forward—he truly had no regard for dignity or image.
She finally understood how Yongye Temple, situated in such a desolate place, managed to survive among the great temples of Que City. With such a shrewd and shameless abbot, she wondered how Wu Min had ever taken him as a disciple.
In front of the ancient pagoda, black blood flowed from Xiao Dai’s nose and mouth. She wiped it away, the veins on her fingers bulging as she made a final, desperate stand.
The surrounding wind blades were no longer as dense as before. Ding Weixiang arrived with his saber, found a gap, and struck.
The blade turned into a streak of light, enlarging as it approached Xiao Dai’s pupils. The fastest swordsman of the Andaoyuan used the most murderous move of the Dou family saber technique to deal with her. A gentle smile touched the corners of her mouth.
*Decades of drifting in the mortal world; liberation is but a fleeting moment.*
In the next instant, a figure rushed out from the side and hugged her tightly.
Then she saw that somewhat bloated, familiar yet strange face slowly close its eyes before her.
"A-Zhu, it's your brother's fault. Don't be mad at me anymore, alright..."
The way he looked when he was quiet still bore a faint resemblance to how he used to be. But he could never again lead her by the hand through the ridges of the mountain fields, smiling as he picked a pear blossom to tuck behind her ear, all just to trick her out of a few coins for wine.
Ding Weixiang’s saber was swiftly withdrawn, and Luo He’s body crashed to the ground.
"Give it up."
Xiao Dai, her head bowed, let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-cry, then looked up. Two streaks of deep red fell from the corners of her eyes—it was impossible to tell if they were blood or tears.
"Brother, A-Zhu is coming to take you home."
The woman let out a piercing laugh toward the sky. A massive force, accompanied by countless wind blades, erupted from her, instantly slicing the nearest secret guards in half.
Ten paces away, Xiao Nanhui only had time to throw herself into a nearby hollow. In the gale, she struggled to open one eye, only to see one last figure standing by the stone tower.
Yikong had finally crawled to the stone tower. His kasaya was tattered and his face was smeared with blood, but his clear eyes were exceptionally calm and firm.
He took something out of the sheepskin box and climbed the stone tower step by step toward the spire.
"Master, please lend this monk your strength to complete this final lesson."
The pitch-black Vajra pestle met the stone finial, producing a crisp *click* that seemed like the final sound in the world.
The murderous wind ceased instantly.
Immediately, a thick fog surged from all directions. Almost in an instant, it enveloped Xiao Nanhui. She watched as Hao Bai’s face disappeared five paces away, as if erased by something, leaving no trace behind.
At the same time, the sounds of everyone's breathing and footsteps vanished. Her own panting hit the fog and bounced back, as if she were trapped in a room with invisible walls.
She looked up at the sky, only to find the night sky had turned white. She looked down at her feet, but even the ground was indistinguishable. She had never seen such eerie weather; it was as if the sun and moon shone together, day and night were one, and the world was a vast, featureless void.
The surroundings were so quiet she could only hear her own breathing and heartbeat, yet she could clearly feel something approaching silently.
The words on the shattered stone tablet haunted her mind like a nightmare.
*Tuifan*—how exactly was one to retreat from the mortal?
Struggling to calm the frantic beating of her heart, Xiao Nanhui used her sleeve to wipe the blood from Jiejia. She stood with her eyes closed, focusing her mind and listening in all directions.
After an unknown amount of time, a faint disturbance in the air came from behind her to the right—silent, yet carrying a heavy murderous intent. She pressed her lips together, twisted her torso, and brought her sword back at a sharp angle to block. With a sharp metallic ring, a powerful force pushed her back three steps.
Xiao Nanhui snapped her eyes open, but her gaze froze in the next second.
Standing before her was none other than Xiao Zhun.
***
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