Chapter 190 A fleeting glimmer of light in the long night.

The Seventh Domain.

The already desolate snowfield is now devoid of the cavalry's songs, and the sounds of galloping hooves have also vanished.

The stench of blood permeated the deep night, and with the movement of someone drawing a knife, it was slightly stirred, suddenly bursting forth with an even stronger aroma that enveloped everyone.

The blood that flowed from the chest of the last tall cavalryman painted the final stroke on the river winding across the snow.

The cavalry on the snowy plateau are divided into two categories.

First, there were the native inhabitants of this border region, and second, there were the cultivators who came from other places. The latter were sometimes exiled for their sins, or perhaps they were weary of the endless struggles and wars in the Central Plains; they always complained when they first arrived.

But the cavalrymen were adept at incorporating others into their ranks. A bowl of strong wine, a cup of warm tea, and songs sung loudly around two campfires drove away all the chill of the wind and snow.

The people in this group became increasingly connected and, consequently, increasingly powerful. They patrolled the snowfields, becoming the first line of defense for humanity on the frontier.

Tonight, the defenses have all crumbled, and not a single life has survived.

The vast snowfield was silent for the first time in a long period of time.

A black-armored soldier reported to the leader, who was standing in a pool of blood: "All Golden Core cultivators are dead, and forty percent of the Nascent Soul cultivators have been lost."

These cavalrymen were not highly skilled, and some of them were ordinary people.

This place is, after all, a place that ordinary people would consider a hardship, and only these people would take root in the towering snow-capped peaks as their home and find joy in hardship.

But their resistance was extremely stubborn, like tigers and leopards in dire straits, tearing flesh from their enemies with their sharp teeth until the very last moment; even the elderly people unleashed incredible power.

The leading Nascent Soul Realm soldier nodded: "It's a bit more than estimated, but it's within expectations. Let's go, we'll go and keep the various sects in the Central Plains occupied."

The cultivator's soul was imprisoned in a container by an array, and will be handed over to Si Liuhua after the war ends.

Their goal was not limited to Emperor Taihui, but to crush the entire Seven Regions and make it tremble.

In an instant, the dense black shadows disappeared, leaving only a few to patrol and clear out the remnants.

Large patches of red and white intermingled on the snow-capped mountain seeped into the permafrost below.

The relentless wind carried snowflakes, soaked in the stench of blood, to the brightly lit land of Kalan on the other side.

The soldiers guarding the entrance to the territory paced anxiously back and forth, gripping their weapons tightly. They were beings sharing certain characteristics with the demon race, and naturally possessed an extraordinary sense of smell, having already detected the chilling scent of blood and metal rising from the other side of the snow-capped mountains.

In the frigid world, only the warmth of flesh and blood can make breath begin to flow. Here, not even a flame can be lit, only boundless darkness.

They waited and waited, for an unknown amount of time, but the bells of revelation from within the kingdom did not ring. Instead, they heard the distant howls and panting of wolves. The guards exchanged glances, suppressing their anxiety and becoming alert, their pale eyes flashing with murderous intent.

Approaching through the snow was a group of humans riding on the backs of snow wolves. Among them were young people and teenagers, some with bloodstains on their clothes. Though silent, their eyes still shone brightly, like pure gems in the night.

The arduous journey over mountains and valleys had left them exhausted, and they only stopped when the radiance of Garan came into view. The young man leading the group dismounted from the wolf's back and bowed respectfully to them.

She raised her head, trying her best to steady her trembling voice: "We are cavalrymen guarding the borders of the human race. Now we have been attacked by the demon race and have been protected by our elders to come here."

The elders in the tribe all said that she should lead these children and run westward without stopping or looking back, until she reached the territory of Nagaran.

The resounding voice reached the guards' ears, causing them to pause, their hands on the hilts of their swords, and they did not immediately draw their blades.

The young man took a deep breath and then knelt heavily on one knee.

"I cannot return to this place. I beg the protection of the Buddhist Kingdom of Garan until the end of this calamity. I will repay you handsomely in the future."

The sharp sound of a sword being drawn cut off her words, and the guard suddenly roared, "You're making us get burned!"

The demons had no immediate intention of attacking Garan, and thus they had remained neutral, refusing to investigate even when they heard the sounds of fierce fighting on the other side of the snow mountain. However, the demands made by the people before them were tantamount to asking them to risk their lives to protect the humans who had escaped from the demons' blades.

If it goes undetected, it's merely a matter of luring foreign races into the territory, not a major offense; but if the demons are interested, this would be an excellent excuse.

This was originally just a long-standing blood feud between the two races, and had nothing to do with them. Once the cause and effect are involved, if it is not severed immediately, it will inevitably lead to further complications.

A cold wind swept in, and the snow wolf nimbly stepped forward, biting the young woman's collar, trying to drag her away to avoid the attack. However, the young woman stubbornly lowered her head, as if a million roots were wrapped around her from the ground, her figure as solid as a rock, only the two lines of tears on her face glistening faintly.

A golden light flashed, deflecting the guard's blade and sending it crashing to the snow.

"Okay, okay."

Unlike the guards' slightly halting Central Plains dialect, the speaker's pronunciation was elegant and clear, with intonation and rhythm. The boy subconsciously looked over and saw that the person was tall, with slightly dry, snow-white hair that had lost the usual lustrous sheen of the Garan people, and wore a long robe with the tip of the fur collar fluttering slightly at his cheek.

What draws the eye is the white silk blindfold, stained with old blood. Beneath the silk, the crisscrossing wrinkles reveal the reality of her advanced age and fading life.

But the Kalamites are supposed to live as long as the heavens.

Why has she aged so much?

“I will arrange accommodations for them.” The man put his hands behind his back. “Their targets will not be limited to humans. If humans are completely wiped out, we will also face a situation where we are left to perish.”

The guard's expression changed, half piety, half awe. She first clasped her hands and bowed, seemingly surprised that the other party would come here, before hesitatingly saying, "But, Your Holiness...!"

After she spoke, she fell silent again, as if she had said something wrong, and the fear in her eyes deepened.

“Let’s do it this way,” the person called “Saintess” said calmly.

Her voice was flat, yet it sounded like a command to the others. Upon hearing this, the guard quickly lowered his head and replied, "Yes," then sheathed his sword and, together with another guard, slowly opened the gate.

The harmonious Buddhist landscape came into view, but the boys had no desire to enjoy it. They simply held back their tears and walked in with the snow wolf.

Meanwhile, in the Seventh and Sixth Domains, beyond the vast snow-capped mountains in the interior, various sects faced a night destined to be sleepless.

-

"You and I together—"

"Don't you know that if humanity is wiped out, you'll be the next ones in danger? It's a matter of mutual dependence!"

"You are not the same kind of people as us..."

"We are born with two eyes, a mouth, a nose, and two ears, and we don't see anyone with an extra arm or a missing leg. How can we not be of the same kind? You Garan people are always like this, isolating yourselves on the snow-capped mountains, thinking that you will not be plagued by disasters? But if this flood destroys the heavens and the earth, even the highest snow-capped mountain will be overturned!"

The white-haired boy was suddenly grabbed by the collar, his face filled with fear and anger.

For a moment, only the heavy breathing of the two remained in the woods. Simmons gripped her tightly, and after struggling a couple of times, the boy found it wasn't so easy to break free, so he gave up.

She lowered her eyes. "No, they recognized me as someone from Galan, that's why they're avoiding me... I don't know why, but I've already broken the rules by escaping, how can I cause Ami any more trouble?"

Simmons stared at her, her brows furrowed, nearly throwing a punch. From the first moment she saw that familiar face, she assumed it was an old friend who had traveled thousands of miles across the snowy plains to claim her life, but it took her many days to confirm that it wasn't—she was just a child who knew nothing. Yet she couldn't help but feel angry, just as the weakness on the other person's face at this moment was so unpleasant.

She found herself not wanting to see this meek face, which was even more unpleasant than the expressionless countenance she remembered...

weird.

The woman sighed and released her. The boy's hard boot soles landed on the ground with a solid thud.

Simmons said, "Didn't you say you were different from them?" She was slightly taller than the boy, so she had to bend down to put her lips to his ear.

"Prove it to me."

With that, Simmons turned and left, leaving her alone. The boy stood there stunned for a long time before raising his hand to touch his earlobe, feeling its unusual heat.

She gritted her teeth, suddenly overwhelmed by a tremendous emotion. It was so heavy that she felt wronged and confused, and had the urge to scream, but in the end, she couldn't say anything.

She had rashly agreed to something, and now she had to pay the price. Even if it had initially been just a bit of competitive curiosity and a feigned generosity to please him. Yet, she seemed unable to fit into the memories of that person and her former saintly self, not even a trace of resemblance.

Tragically, even so, she still refused to let go, even if her palms would be covered in blood for a day.

It was as if a mark had been branded into her body since birth, urging her to come here, to meet this stranger, and to hear her voice again.

The stench of blood wafted over, and the boy shook his head, took off the copper bell from his waist, gripped it tightly, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Ami... and please forgive me, Venerable One."

She put the bell back on and ran quickly in the direction Simmons had gone.

On White Dew Peak, the night sky was tinged with a dark gold by the glow of spiritual energy, like a sliver of dawn. The teleportation array was slowly taking shape, and many students were rushing towards it.

The demons have not yet invaded this place, and Chi Yueying is setting up an array, which gives people a slight sense of reassurance.

Beside the grand formation, Lin Yuxian used cinnabar to draw the array, and dark golden light flowed within the red strokes, slowly perfecting this enormous formation.

Setting up a teleportation array that can carry more than a thousand people is not an easy task.

Moreover, this happened without any prior preparation.

Hearing the distant sounds of battle, interspersed with cries of pain, her heart clenched and she trembled. She had to close her eyes and silently recite a few calming mantras to keep her pen from stopping. She couldn't afford to falter at this moment, not even for a second.

Chi Yueying entrusted her with an important task, which she had to complete.

The defense of the outer town was relatively smooth. Most of the Nascent Soul and Golden Core cultivators participating in this competition were outstanding elites from various sects. Despite the differences in strength, they still managed to gain the upper hand under the concentrated offensive.

After Zulan's team finally received reinforcements, some of the exhausted members were sent back to rest beside the teleportation array. An ominous black mist still lingered around the Four Spirit Peaks, suggesting a fierce battle was taking place on the inner side.

The golden strings were initially invisible, gradually condensing into layers of ripples, which, as the player moved their fingertips, gently and melodiously transformed into sharp blades.

Yun Zhixiao stood beside Yue Qifeng. Behind her, a dozen or so students from Xihe Palace stopped at the site of the fierce battle. The music, with its varying pitches, strangely intertwined into a harmonious and clear melody. Coupled with their bright feathered cloaks, they resembled ancient phoenixes descending to this place, circling and driving away evil spirits with their loud cries.

Normally, Yun Zhixiao would be the one to harmonize the music, but today she didn't play the zither. Instead, she took out a jade flute and glanced at Yue Qifeng lightly.

The latter understood her meaning, but still teased, "Young Palace Master, I heard you used this flute as a sword to hit your junior sister?"

Yun Zhixiao smiled slightly, "Senior Sister Yue is still the best teacher."

Her gaze quickly returned to the swarming demons below. The black-armored soldiers were powerful and disciplined. Although the overall situation was optimistic, many were still seriously injured and were being helped back by others. The music produced by Xihe Palace sounded particularly weak during the offensive. The golden melodies, which usually possessed the power of blades, now seemed to melt into the water, causing barely a ripple when they touched the soldiers.

Having frequently clashed with others, Yun Zhixiao's insight was naturally beyond that of ordinary cultivators, and he quickly understood the reason—

Music, or painting, or literature—these are all for those who are interested.

If it is someone without heart, it will probably be difficult to achieve the desired effect.

So she quickly changed tactics, pressed her lips to the side of the blowhole, and whispered, "Ah Feng, I want you to listen to my music, listen carefully. You know, I can see through your swordsmanship."

The implication was that she shouldn't get distracted.

Yue Qifeng opened his eyes wide, quite surprised, then laughed heartily, "I couldn't ask for more."

They hadn't worked together like this in a long time. After all, Yun Zhixiao's musical power was sometimes even greater than Qi Feng's, so she didn't need to step back and be anyone's foil.

In addition, with his busy schedule, the youthful days of fencing alone and playing the zither alone, listening to the flowing water of mountains and rivers, are gone forever.

Although Yun knew she was once again helping her with music, Yue Qifeng understood that it wasn't because she was powerless, but rather—

Yun knew she had to direct and protect her.

After forming a bond, their hearts became increasingly intertwined, like a mortise and tenon joint. Presumably, she is now able to understand Ah Xiao's unique "language" better than before.

The flute's sound pierced through the clamor of war like a sharp blade; then the other string and drum sounds followed suit, like a phoenix's long cry and a hundred birds singing in harmony, creating a melodious and pleasant sound.

Yue Qifeng then handed over his sword, its aura almost as dense as the mist during a rainstorm, shimmering with a deep, lustrous blue-green, accompanied by a howling wind. The sound of the wind mingled with the clanging of the flute, like a harmonious melody, bringing with it the power to sweep away a thousand armies.

Even at the peak of the Nascent Soul Realm, the soldiers below could hardly withstand such overwhelming power. The dense demonic energy began to dissipate, and moonlight slowly seeped in.

After a moment, the music stopped, and Yue Qifeng swung her arm to dispel the dense demonic energy on her sword, letting it be wiped away by spiritual energy. She took a deep breath, exchanged a glance with Yun Zhixiao not far away, and they both smiled. Their hearts, which had been feeling heavy, seemed to find some comfort.

At this moment, a disciple of the Wuji Sword Sect hurried over and called out, "Senior Sister!"

Yue Qifeng turned around, raised his eyebrows, and asked with concern, "What's wrong, Junior Sister? Are you injured?"

She then examined the boy more closely, a slight smile playing on her lips. "You look unfamiliar; you seem rather shy. Good, you're not seriously injured—"

In that brief moment, the boy drew closer and closer to her until they were only a few feet apart. Suddenly, a cold glint flashed in his hand, and he drew his sword!

The blades clashed, a sharp buzzing sound piercing the ears.

Yue Qifeng seemed to have been prepared, and he caught her sword strike squarely. A look of surprise appeared on the young man's brow, then he grinned, his dark eyes quickly turning deep red.

She said, "Senior sister, why are you so wary of me?"

Yue Qifeng stared at her, his grip on the sword tightening under her relentless force, veins bulging on the back of his hand. Unlike his arm, which was exerting force, her expression was slightly complicated. The moment her gaze met his face, she lowered her eyes as if burned.

"You don't need to know."

The music lingered softly in his ears once more. Yue Qifeng took a deep breath and resolutely deflected her longsword. The young man's spiritual power surged, and a strong rage flashed in his eyes. After a fierce exchange, he finally pierced his sword precisely into the opponent's vulnerable demonic body.

The wind blades swirled wildly, and the boy's face gradually faded away, never to be seen again.

Suddenly, an invisible pressure descended, as if striking the hearts of everyone present.

The music abruptly went awry and quickly faded away. Yun Zhixiao's face turned deathly pale, and a large amount of blood gushed from her lips. Some, unable to bear it any longer, swayed and ultimately fell from mid-air.

Nine tall, jet-black-haired youths suddenly appeared among the densely packed demon soldiers. They all had black hair and red eyes, and their cold expressions brought a chilling silence.

Before them, there was a familiar figure who looked around with interest and chuckled softly.

Luo You clapped her hands, her gentle laughter sounding as if she were cheering them on.

"Well done. It seems that the potential of human cultivators far exceeds my expectations."

As she swiftly drew her sword, the black mist thickened once more. This time, Qingxin's magical artifact quickly lost its effectiveness, and those with lower cultivation levels began to bleed from their mouths and noses, clutching their chests in agony.

"It's a pity that you will all perish here, and there will be no more after this."

At the same time, a figure was moving through the forest.

She was the student who volunteered to take the wounded away from the small team led by Zu Lan earlier. Now, she was carrying the seriously injured boy on her back, running towards the foot of Siling Peak. The boy's injuries had been stabilized, but without timely medical attention, he was still very likely to die.

This was already the fastest speed, but the faint heartbeat coming through his skin made the young man extremely anxious, wishing he could go even faster.

Suddenly, a soft rustling sound came from the bushes. The young man stopped alertly, his eyes fixed on the source of the noise.

But what emerged was a student dressed in blue. She breathed a sigh of relief, her face lighting up with joy, and called out to him, "Come and help me!"

The blue robes are the symbol of Guyu Peak, and this is territory close to the inner sect, so it must be a healer from Guyu Peak coming to rescue someone. She quickly walked towards the disciple, exchanged a few greetings with her, and couldn't help but smile bitterly when she heard the other lament about the sudden change in the weather.

"Sigh, who knows? But I'm sure the immortals and the senior sisters of the inner sect will protect us." The young man shook his head. "I trust them."

She was about to hand the boy over to him, but as she drew closer, she instinctively sensed something amiss. Just as this feeling was about to spread and was almost mistaken for an illusion, the boy in blue tilted his head and gave a mocking smile.

A chill ran through her chest. The young woman looked down and saw a dagger deeply embedded in her heart. She opened her mouth, but the gushing blood choked her words; not a single syllable could escape, let alone a cry.

In her swaying vision, only the other person's boots and the withered grass corrupted by demonic energy remained. The severely injured and unconscious boy also lost his support, his cold body lying on the ground alongside hers, his breathing barely audible.

We should have looked at what was underneath...

She was too lax.

Without revealing his true form, the disciple merely chuckled and said, "This one is about to die too. Since you two are so close, why don't you die on the same day of the same month?"

With that, she ignored the two men and walked away happily.

His gradually fading fingers twitched, struggling to resist the pain of hypothermia as he groped around. The young man coughed painfully, yet stubbornly pressed himself against the side of the heavily injured Tu Sheng, then sat up and pressed his forehead against hers.

The dripping blood stained each other's clothes, the grass beneath them, and even their faces, making them indistinguishable, mottled and indistinguishable.

She whispered, "...You must...live."

A radiance shone from their foreheads, which were pressed together. Then, spiritual energy, representing the remaining life force, slowly flowed out, enveloping the critically ill boy and causing his meridians to circulate once again, bringing him back to life.

After a while, a soft thud was heard, and the young man fell to the ground, the light in his eyes gradually fading away.

—If I had known, I wouldn't have tried to show off.

But it's also because she's foolish. Her master always said she was too foolish... too easily trusting of others...

But no one told her that sooner or later she would pay the price with her life for it.

However, I didn't regret it that much.

She closed her eyes, feeling the breeze caress her cheeks, and fatigue surged through her body more intensely than ever before, making her never open her eyes again.

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A note from the author: Writing with Teacher Xiaoying.

An hour has passed, and we've both written zero words.

And thank you everyone for reading the recent chapters without making me spin like a top. Of course, I can still give you a good beating! [heart]