Chapter 196 The bells keep ringing.
The rising spiritual energy was abruptly cut off and suppressed by the two people who suddenly appeared. Yue Qifeng was startled, and a bad premonition rose in his heart.
Upon seeing who it was, she and Yun Zhixiao exclaimed almost simultaneously:
"Master!"
"Mother!"
The sudden surge of sword energy around Pei Zhao caused her clothes and hair to flutter. She turned around and smiled at the younger generation.
Logically, she should have left a message, but when she actually stood in front of Yue Qifeng, she found that she had nothing to say.
They were not related by blood, and their past interactions were not like those of a mother and daughter. At that time, Yue Qifeng had just arrived at the Wuji Sword Sect carrying a bundle, her face blank and expressionless, like a puppet. Pei Zhao had only recently secured her position as sect leader and was overwhelmed with many matters when one day her master, who was about to go into seclusion, brought a child from the mortal realm and asked her to take him as her disciple.
Pei Zhao, somewhat bewildered, took the sleeping boy who was exhausted from the journey. His master said, "The celestial phenomena are unusual. This child has the potential to become an immortal. I entrust him to you for instruction."
"Me?" Pei Zhao pointed to himself. "I'm not even sure I can ascend to immortality myself, how could I teach others to do so?"
The woman glared at her, "You're so irresponsible. If I tell you to raise someone properly, then raise them properly. If you mess them up, even if I'm in seclusion, I can still kill you with a single sword strike across a mountain."
Pei Zhao became obedient: "Yes, Master."
After the boy woke up, he lived quite comfortably here, but he didn't like to interact with people. He spent his days chopping wood, cooking, reading, and practicing swordsmanship on the mountain, rising with the sun and resting when the sun set somewhere unknown. All Pei Zhao had ever done was to glance at her from afar at the foot of the mountain, occasionally go up to teach her swordsmanship, and resolve the boy's doubts.
More than a decade passed in this way, watching her, until Xihe Palace extended an invitation, at which point Pei Zhao belatedly realized—
Shouldn't the child have a friend?
I've grown up so much, and it seems like I've hardly ever used my mouth except for eating.
That's it, my master is going to hang her up and whip her with three swords.
Fortunately, the young master was also brought by his mother to the banquet. The two disappeared at the same time, and when they returned, they were holding each other's hands, looking like young friends.
Later, Yue Qifeng also left that mountain. She was indeed exceptionally talented, and quickly rose to become one of the most outstanding young talents. Everything went smoothly for her, and she grew up so fast. In Pei Zhao's eyes, all of this seemed like it was just yesterday. It wasn't that she hadn't spent time with Yue Qifeng, but when she thought back, she still felt that they had spent too little time together.
The name Yue Qifeng, meaning "single-character Yao," was given to her by Pei Zhao when she came of age. It signifies soaring upwards and wishing that when the wind rises, all things will fall, and she could reach out and pluck thousands of stars.
Later, as her relationship with Yun Qingyao improved, she realized that normal people raising daughters—or rather, normal people—would be very strict. However, it was ultimately just a matter of different ways of getting along, which also affected her relationship with her apprentice.
Pei Zhao felt that Yue Qifeng was good enough as he was now, and didn't need to be any better. Her student was the most outstanding child in her eyes, and no one else could catch her eye.
Thinking about it, they had actually become family long ago.
Therefore, Yue Qifeng didn't need her to say anything more; he already understood everything.
In the chilly night, the young man bowed slightly, clasped his hands, and said, "Master, I will take good care of the other junior sisters. Please come back safely as well."
"Good, that's good." Pei Zhao nodded, said nothing more, and drew her sword to take the lead in attacking. This was an enemy at the peak of the Nascent Soul Realm, and she could not afford to be careless in the slightest.
Yun Qingyao only transmitted one sentence to Yun Zhixiao: "Let's go quickly."
She took one last look at her daughter, then summoned the zither and played with Pei Zhao.
There's more to say, such as blaming her for thinking of ending her own life—sacrifice? What's so good about sacrifice! Living well together is the best thing. If it had been any later, wouldn't Heaven have felt it wasn't enough to bring this child into the world, and wanted her to personally send her back to the River Styx?
Yun Qingyao certainly didn't want this to happen.
The golden melody materialized, accompanied by the long howl of sword energy, like metal clashing against stone, a cold and mournful cry that never ceased. The sword techniques were simple yet relentlessly aimed at vital points; in each exchange, it was as if every last drop of strength was being poured out.
The emerald green sword energy coalesced into a long dragon, echoing the fiery red birds, and together they rushed towards the abyss formed by the black mist.
-
Let's go.
“But Aunt Yi—” Qiao Yanshen raised his hand.
Yi Xiaohan said sternly, "Go! This is our business. You haven't even retrieved your sword yet, and your cultivation is insufficient. What makes you think you can fight her?"
The young man fell silent.
She knew that Yi Xiaohan wouldn't listen to her at this moment, because his words and eyes revealed a death wish. If she were here, she would probably only distract him.
She didn't know how much power Luo Yang had left her, whether she should use it now, or if there were actually more enemies to come. For the first time, Qiao Yanshen felt fear—everything had gone against her expectations. She realized that she couldn't record the rise and fall of the war like she had read in history books, because those involved had no idea what would happen next.
She didn't know when it would begin or when it would end, just as the night was so long it was despairing. The bright moonlight would surely become her nightmare for the rest of her days and nights.
Seeing her hesitation, Yi Xiaohan simply waved his hand.
Before using her spiritual power to pull the person away, Qiao Yan sighed deeply, then turned around and flew away on her sword.
Only after Qiao Yanshen's figure disappeared did Yi Xiaohan breathe a sigh of relief. However, what was quite unusual was that this demon didn't try to stop her, but instead leisurely exchanged blows with her as if playing a game. Even the soldier from before seemed to have been sent elsewhere.
The other person's voice came through: "Thinking about why I didn't stop her?"
She took a step back in alarm, instinctively holding her long sword horizontally in front of her—
A deafening explosion erupted from the area where they were, and flames engulfed the thick black mist, shooting straight into the sky.
Amidst the boundless smoke and dust, Yi Xiaohan struggled to his feet, spitting out a mouthful of blood. Ahead, a tall figure gradually emerged from the hazy smoke, blood dripping from his sword.
“Because killing you first will cause her more pain. That’s good. Thank you for being important people in her life.” Luo You smiled slightly.
"Come on, True Lord Lanqiu. If you fight with all your might, you might still have a chance to survive."
Yi Xiaohan's eyes sharpened, and he raised his hand to cover his shoulder, only to find that his right arm was covered in blood.
Because she hesitated.
She has always been afraid of actually having surgery.
Many years ago, Si Liuhua's sword left Yi Xiaohan not only with a scar running across her body, but also with a nightmare that made her tremble at the mere mention of that name. She couldn't sense Si Liuhua's presence, yet this scar had already begun to instinctively instill fear in her.
However, if she doesn't draw her sword again, what will happen to her exhausted students behind her, and who will they rely on?
She was no longer just a student of Emperor Taihui, but the renowned Lanqiu Zhenjun, who was stationed here and whose fame spread far and wide.
Spiritual energy transformed into flames and surged forth. Yi Xiaohan raised his eyes, and the dust on his body was instantly swept away, his dull red clothes once again radiating vibrant color, and his left hand no longer trembled.
She gripped the knife tightly and said in a deep voice, "As you wish. But who lives and who dies... is not up to you to decide."
......
The inner territory of the Wuji Sword Sect was deserted and empty. Yet the sound of the bell still pierced through the heavy snow, crossed mountains and valleys, and reached the ears of the disciples and Ji Xuan, who was engaged in fierce battle with the demons.
The woman paused with her sword, giving the enemy an opening. Seeing that she did not dodge, the black-armored soldier immediately slashed fiercely with his blade.
However, her attack was met with an even sharper and colder sword intent than before, and then her heart was suddenly pierced by the sword.
Ji Xuan coldly drew his sword and turned to face the next person.
Her aura continued to rise, like a dragon breaking free from its bonds. Despite being covered in wounds, she unleashed a desperate cry before her death.
In the vast Xihe Palace, all the flowers withered and the birds scattered. Suddenly, a blue phoenix flew into the sky without regard for anything else, letting out a mournful cry.
At the same time, Yun Zhixiao, who was supporting Yue Qifeng, suddenly felt a lightness in her body and knelt down uncontrollably.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. The glow of the teleportation array was clearly close at hand, but only boundless coldness remained in her heart. She lowered her head, clutching her clothes tightly. Her voice caught in her throat, muffled and hesitant, before finally managing to escape from her lips.
"Mother..."
As blood relatives, there always seemed to be a strange connection between them. She had just felt as if a thread in her heart had snapped, and immediately, with alarm, checked the fragment of divine consciousness Yun Qingyao had left for her—
There was no response.
Having lost its consciousness, the ring was merely an inanimate object, silently soaked by her tears.
From then on, she was no longer the young palace mistress.
Yue Qifeng gently embraced her, his eyes glistening with tiny tears.
She knew that her master would never come back.
-
In a blood-stained forest, Simmons found Tang Huairou.
The young woman lay on the ground, covered in blood, her usually elegant blue robes now a shocking sight. Hearing the newcomer's movement, she struggled to her feet, but after barely managing to prop herself up, she lost her strength and coughed up a large amount of blood. The blood was mixed with fragments, as if proclaiming the fact that she was utterly ravaged.
But she did not give up. Instead, she tried again and again to get up and find her own sword.
He paused slightly when Simmons spoke, and finally, as if he had exhausted all his strength, he lay down completely on the wet ground.
Simmons said, "It's me."
Tang Huairou slightly curved the corners of her lips and said, "Mm."
"I encountered an enemy not long after I parted ways with Yuqian... It was a Nascent Soul Realm cultivator. But she suddenly stopped fighting just now, and I don't know where she went."
Her voice was very soft, so soft it seemed to dissipate.
"However, at least it delayed her for a while, preventing her from pursuing other men. Fortunately..."
Simmons held her hand and whispered, "Don't say anything." She knew that Tang Huairou probably still wanted to say how good it was that she was safe and sound, but there was no time to say that now.
The saintess knelt down beside her and asked with concern, "You want to save her?"
"What's wrong?" Simmons turned her head.
The saintess grasped Tang Huairou's other hand, her expression momentarily frozen. This hand felt boneless, requiring her to hold it completely to lift it; the spiritual veins within were lifeless, even the pulse of life was extremely weak.
It's broken. Completely broken...
She took a deep breath and whispered, "Don't save him."
Before Simmons could ask a question, the young man added an explanation: "Her meridians are completely severed. Even if she can be saved, she will not only be unable to cultivate in the future, but she will also likely be left with a host of hidden ailments, and she will not be able to live a normal life."
“You cultivators,” she lowered her eyes, gently placing her fingertips on Tang Huairou’s wrist, “don’t you suffer unbearable pain when your cultivation is completely destroyed?”
The fluctuations of spiritual energy in the surrounding area were already reflected in the plants and trees. Unlike other places where everything was withered, Tang Huairou's spiritual energy protected them, allowing them to grow even more luxuriantly. This place was surrounded by suddenly sprouting plants and trees, and many flowers were blooming, as if early spring had arrived ahead of schedule, just to surround the dying young man.
The hand I was holding had gradually grown cold and light, because all the blood had been drained.
Simmons bent down.
She thought that when they first met, she felt this person wasn't very bright, but was loved too much by his elders, and therefore treated everyone very well. But in this world, kindness rarely gets rewarded.
The once clear earring was now stained with blood.
Tang Huairou had lost consciousness during the brief pause in their conversation, now clinging to life and unable to wait much longer. Simmons felt a pang of regret—she should have saved the most important question for now. The saintess kneeling to one side watched her, awaiting her final decision. Unconsciously, she gripped Tang Huairou's hand tightly, an inopportune moment flashing through her mind—a sentence that person had suddenly uttered long ago during an argument on the vast snowfield.
She stood calmly in the biting snow wind, as cold as a statue: "You'll understand when you actually have to make a choice."
It's always been difficult to have both.
"No......"
The young saintess beside her lowered her head, not hearing the mumbled words she spoke, and leaned closer.
“It shouldn’t end like this,” Simmons said. “Save her.”
She didn't know what Tang Huairou would choose; perhaps, as the saintess said, it would be better to die. But what if she wanted to live?
What if she's still waiting for someone, and that person is also waiting for her?
Simmons thought that many people would be saddened by this, including her, and perhaps... perhaps Shen Lixia and Qiao Yanshen would be too. It was already cruel enough for her; how terrible and sorrowful must it be for them, belonging to this sect?
She didn't know. But she didn't want such a sacrifice anymore. Just as Shen Lixia said, compared to the eternal remembrance of sacrifice, it was indeed better to have living people in front of her.
Just as they were about to help Tang Huairou up, a figure came walking in the moonlight. Her steps were very light, like a dead soul walking on the wet River Styx, damp and cold.
Simmons felt a jolt of alarm, while the Holy Maiden frowned deeply. They lacked the spiritual ability to sense the cultivation level of others, but with the world-gazing eye technique granted by Buddhism, they could discern whether the person before them was dangerous or harmless—and this person in white, though outwardly gentle, was actually a slumped beast beneath.
Her sword was the fang of a ferocious beast.
Ignoring their hostility, Si Liuhua's gaze fell on Tang Huairou, then quickly looked away.
Without any cultivation... all his meridians were severed.
Are they ordinary people caught in the crossfire?
She glanced at the two people in front of her again, smiling as she spoke to herself, "You are a Garan... and you carry the aura of a Garan; she gifted you a part of yourself. Never mind, neither of you are spiritual cultivators..."
Si Liuhua didn't say anything more, but lowered his eyes with pity and tenderness, looked at Tang Huairou who was covered in blood and had a weak breath, and said softly as if he felt guilty, "I'm sorry."
It's like saying this to all the innocent people affected.
Even though the war was started because of her.
...
Spiritual energy rained down, shattering the figures of countless Nascent Soul Realm demon soldiers. Lin Yuxian ran across the battlefield, her face pale, but her steps were very steady.
She is setting up her formation.
This way, the demons will be eradicated more thoroughly, and the other survivors will be protected. Although Lin Yuqian never imagined that the array she had only tried setting up a few times in the competition would now be used, and that it would involve many lives.
It seemed that after that night, her teenage years came to a cruel and tragic end.
Her tears had run dry; she couldn't cry anymore. Chi Yueying was supporting the teleportation array while simultaneously setting up an array in the sky to annihilate all demons. Beams of spiritual energy rained down like sharp knives aimed at the enemy, each carrying a chilling aura.
The radiance of the Heaven and Earth Array intertwined, causing all things to change color. The entire Taihui Sect was experiencing such a rain; this was the power of a Nascent Soul Realm array cultivator—once the array was complete, everyone became a trapped beast, struggling and dying in despair. Even with broken heads and blood, they could not escape this shackle.
Golden rain continued to fall. Falling on Lin Yuxian, it was gentle, transforming from swords and blades into tears that seemed to mourn her. She sensed her teacher's sorrow.
The Nascent Soul stage demon soldiers were almost all dead, but correspondingly, the number of survivors on their side who persisted also dwindled. Corpses littered the field, and she recognized or disliked the faces of each one, none of them ever to come back to life. Her senses had been dulled until she had traversed almost half of the sect's territory to set up the formation, at which point she realized how many people had truly died.
As she walked, Lin Yuxian suddenly heard someone behind her calling her name. The voice sounded strange, so she turned around, but remained cautious.
Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be the very person who had mocked it earlier. It had been severed at the waist, its lower body missing, and was dragging a mangled corpse, writhing. One eye was covered in blood, as if it were about to transform into a demon. Unfortunately, perhaps due to its proud male identity, the demon-transformation process was not going smoothly, and it looked like it was on the verge of death.
Its lips moved, and after a long while, it finally pleaded, "Save me..."
Lin Yuqian remained unmoved. She thought, perhaps some people would find it pitiful. But in reality, no matter what they looked like, they were not worthy of pity—from birth to death, as long as prejudice existed, they reaped all the benefits. They knew to cry out in pain, but when they were sucking the marrow from others' bones, they never shed a single genuine tear; they just did what they had to do.
How pathetic, they're all just parasites.
The boy ignored him, turned around, and walked away decisively.
The thing, now only half its body remaining, struggled for a while, unable to utter a sound even when it tried to curse, before finally dying in agony.
Upon reaching a suitable spot for setting up the formation, Lin Yuxian raised her hand, as if to vent all the anger and sorrow in her heart, and bit down hard. Blood gushed from where her teeth met her flesh, but Lin Yuxian only gasped for breath, biting down even harder. The belated tears finally fell, mingling with the blood.
Yet this blood was still not enough, not as much as the bloodstains that she had seen along the way, covering the mountains and fields, replacing the wildflowers and grasses, splattering every corner of Emperor Taihui's life. She hated herself for not being strong enough—she had always hated herself for not being strong enough, hence the many things beyond her control.
The sounds of flesh being torn apart echoed continuously. Only when the flesh was a bloody mess did the boy release his grip, take a deep breath, squat down, dip his fingertips into the thick blood, and begin to slowly draw the final part of the array pattern.
-
Shen Lixia dodged that sword strike.
She took a deep breath, pushed off with all her might, and struggled to her feet like a nimble rabbit. Many feathers had fallen from her wings, making them look quite disheveled.
Immediately afterwards, several small swords formed from demonic energy pinned her to the spot. Those swords pierced through her palms, ankles, and even shoulders, rendering the boy powerless.
A metallic taste filled Shen Lixia's throat, and she coughed up a mouthful of blood. Her consciousness grew increasingly blurred, and as she listened to the other person's disdainful mockery of Ling Guangjun and how he would tear her to pieces, a series of images flashed before her eyes, and she suddenly remembered something very important.
If she had known this would happen, she should have tried hanging herself during final exams; she would have remembered all the knowledge points.
It felt like she had returned to the modern era, a time when she knew nothing. But Shen Lixia didn't actually miss those days, because in the past she was like an empty shell, not knowing why she was alive, walking the path of ordinary people, without anyone particularly important to her. It wasn't until she came here that she finally encountered someone "indispensable" in her life.
She felt intense pain, her consciousness fading, and a flood of thoughts rushed through her mind—what was her senior sister doing now? She seemed to have something left unsaid, but she was tired and couldn't help but close her eyes… A chilling coldness, chilling to the bone, rose around her, yet it was also incredibly light. In the darkness, she couldn't see anything, only feel lips moving, calling out…
Senior sister.
But her senior sister was getting further and further away from her... and she felt like she didn't have the strength to hold on to her.
Then, as if returning to childhood in a past life, I wanted to curl up and call out... "Sister." It was as if I could feel my sister's slightly dry hand stroking my cheek again.
Shen Lixia tried desperately to clench her fist, but was stopped by the blade embedded in her flesh. In the end, she managed to lift her hand and, following the direction of the blade, ignored the profuse bleeding.
Her voice was barely audible, and at the end she simply called out softly:
"Master..."
The soldier sneered, intending to end her life. In the chaos, a sudden chill swept over her like a storm, and she turned around alertly, only to be slashed several feet away by an oncoming sword.
The sword energy that had bound the boy dissolved like water. Shen Lixia opened his eyes, but couldn't make out who it was for a long time, blinking a few times. The other person's clothes were made of smooth, slightly cold material, yet they exuded a warm, mingled scent of charcoal and ghee...
Yan Xueya sighed, pulled her into his arms, and whispered, "You still know how to call me."
The divine fire slowly rose, scorching and healing the boy's body. Shen Lixia seemed to have regained some strength, and smiled as she retorted, "Even a child knows to call for his mother when faced with something he can't solve..."
It's finally here.
It's so good that Master is safe and sound...
She felt somewhat fortunate.
Perhaps Heaven still has a shred of mercy, allowing the call to be answered.
The next moment, Shen Lixia suddenly felt a dangerous aura coming from above. Without hesitation, she spread her already tattered wings again, grabbed Yan Xueya's shoulder, and shielded her with her.
Several crisscrossing sword lights fell—
He severed those wings at the root.
The joy at birth may be matched by the pain at the moment of separation. And the damage did not stop there, as half of the boy's body was also twisted and mutilated.
Yan Xueya hadn't even reacted yet—she hadn't even noticed the scent. When she came to her senses, blood had already soaked through most of her clothes, and a warm sensation splattered on her face.
With a sweep of their divine sense, six figures at the peak of the Nascent Soul Realm appeared around them.
Including the one we just saw, there are seven in total.
In the deathly silence, Yan Xueya stood up. Around her, icy mist continued to spread, covering the surrounding area in the blink of an eye, burying the bloodstains beneath it, turning it into a frozen wasteland.
哢.
The sealing barrier formed by the gathering black mist was breaking down at an alarming rate. The howling wind and snow devoured and shattered it, giving Yan Xueya the opportunity to use spatial magic to send Shen Lixia elsewhere.
Only after the boy's figure disappeared from her embrace did Yan Xueya draw her sword. The warmth of the blood on the sword tassel, which had clearly disappeared long ago, now surged back up uncontrollably, causing a burning pain throughout her arm and even her heart.
Her gaze swept over the peak Nascent Soul Realm figures, realizing their target was her, and she sneered:
"Seven...you really think highly of me."
A chilling aura enveloped the sword, and frost condensed, producing a soft crackling sound.
"If that's all—that's far too meager!"
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