Chapter 50 The Cat is Confused
Above the vast sky, a tall and straight figure stood in the air.
The man was wearing a spotless black robe, and his sleeves did not move at all in the wind.
His face was stern, like ice that had remained unchanged for thousands of years, without a trace of human emotion.
His deep eyes were like a cold pond, reflecting the mess on the ground of the arena below. His whole body exuded a chill, an absolute pressure that silenced all things.
Just existing here is like being at the center of heaven and earth, with a cold gaze sweeping over, like a god looking down indifferently at the ants in the dust.
The Master of Xuanji Sword, Mo Zhiyuan.
At this moment, Bai Qingchen's heart seemed to be grasped tightly by an invisible hand, and it forgot to beat.
He looked up at the face that had appeared in his memories and dreams countless times, but at this moment he felt an unprecedented sense of strangeness and chill.
The sword light that saved him was terrifyingly sharp, and the aura of death that was so close to him had not yet completely dissipated.
At this moment, the aura emanating from Mo Zhiyuan was even colder and more distant than the sword light, as if there was a chasm between them that he would never be able to cross in his entire life.
Mo Zhiyuan's eyes swept indifferently across the mess, and naturally also passed by the figure who was sitting in a pool of blood and rubble, covered in blood and in a miserable state.
But the gaze did not linger, nor did it fluctuate in the slightest, as if it was passing over an insignificant figure.
He confirmed that the demon cultivator was dead, and the shadow of the demon gate that had just begun to condense disappeared without a trace the moment the barrier was broken.
Without any words, or even a single unnecessary movement, Mo Zhiyuan moved slightly, transformed into an icy sword light, and instantly disappeared into the sky, as if he had never appeared.
Only the chill of the frozen air remained, lingering for a long time.
"Sword Master...it's Sword Master who took action!"
“Saved!”
After a brief silence, cheers of survival erupted from the audience below the stage. The elders and peak masters on the platform also breathed a sigh of relief and immediately gave orders to their men.
"Hurry and save them! The Law Enforcement Hall has sealed off the scene and is investigating every inch of it! We'll dig three feet underground to find out how this demonic cultivator got in!"
Bai Qingchen was still sitting on the cold and sticky arena, surrounded by unconscious fellow disciples and bloodstains on the ground.
The cries of the rescue disciples and the groans of the wounded, all the sounds were separated by a ravine and became blurred and distant.
He stared blankly at the direction where Mo Zhiyuan disappeared. What flashed repeatedly before his eyes were those cold eyes without any emotion, and the terrifying sword light that almost tore him apart.
That look... was like looking at a stranger, or rather, like looking at something insignificant or even a little annoying.
An indescribable coldness penetrated from the clothes soaked in demonic blood to the depths of his bones, eventually freezing his heart. It was a hundred times colder than the ice and snow on Hanyuan Peak.
The chaos at the scene lasted for a long time.
The senior brothers and sisters of Danfeng were busy treating the unconscious disciples, while the people of the Law Enforcement Hall carefully examined the wreckage of the arena and the demon cultivators, trying to find more clues.
The smell of blood, medicine and the remaining burnt smell of demonic energy mixed together in the air, making people feel sick.
The blood on Bai Qingchen's body was half dried, sticking to his skin stickily, cold and fishy, and he looked in a miserable state. The disciple in charge of treatment came over to check on his condition.
"Junior brother, how are you injured? Are you hurt anywhere?" The disciple asked with concern, seeing that he was covered in blood.
Bai Qingchen was brought back to reality by the voice. He raised his head in a daze, his eyes empty as if they had lost focus.
He stretched his stiff hands and feet. Apart from the feeling of weakness caused by excessive consumption of spiritual energy, the dull pain in his meridians, and the surging blood and energy from the pressure of the demon cultivator and the aftermath of the sword light, he seemed to have no serious external injuries.
Most of those shocking bloodstains belonged to the demon cultivator who was split in half.
"I'm...fine." His voice was hoarse and his throat was dry.
"No... I'm not seriously injured, I'm just a little weak." Bai Qingchen tried to move the corners of his mouth, but only produced an extremely stiff arc.
The disciple was still worried when he saw Bai Qingchen's appearance, so he carefully used his spiritual power to investigate and nodded.
"Indeed, there are no superficial injuries, but his spiritual energy is severely depleted, and his mind is also a little shaken. You are really lucky to be so close and still be fine."
He handed Bai Qingchen a meridian-warming pill and said, "Go back and take good care of yourself for a few days and you'll be fine. It's too chaotic here. Go back to your own peak and rest first."
Bai Qingchen silently took the pill and swallowed it. A gentle medicinal effect spread, slightly relieving his physical fatigue, but it could not dispel the chill in his heart.
He propped himself up and stood up, his steps a little unsteady. Lin Feng and Su Yue were also supported by other disciples. They had suffered severe depletion of spiritual power and some internal injuries and needed further treatment.
"Brother Bai, are you okay?"
Lin Feng almost didn't recognize that the blood-soaked figure was Bai Qingchen. He asked worriedly, his voice a little weak.
"I'm fine." Bai Qingchen forced a smile and pointed at the blood on his body, "It's all the blood of that demon cultivator."
Su Yue's face was pale, and she looked at him worriedly: "You look so ugly, are you really okay?"
"Really, I'm just a little tired. You should go and heal your wounds quickly." Bai Qingchen urged.
Watching Lin Feng and Su Yue being helped away, Bai Qingchen walked down the messy arena alone, step by step, like a lost puppet.
A picture kept looping in my mind: those cold eyes, that indifferent figure.
He didn't know how he walked back to Hanyuan Peak.
The cold wind on the mountain was like a knife, blowing through his blood-stained clothes, bringing a biting chill.
The disciples passing by saw his appearance and looked away.
After returning to his secluded courtyard halfway up Hanyuan Peak, the first thing Bai Qingchen did was to rush into the bathroom, take off the clothes that exuded a strong smell of blood and demonic energy, and rinse his body over and over again with the icy mountain spring water.
His skin turned red from being rubbed, and he stopped only when he could no longer smell the scent of blood.
He changed into a clean white inner disciple uniform, but the chill seemed to have penetrated into his bones and he couldn't get warm no matter what he did.
He sat alone at the table, on which was a pot of wine, which Chen Yi had given him before he left last time. He said it was a good wine from the mortal world and asked him to try it.
He seldom drank alcohol, but at this moment, he felt a tightness in his chest and needed something to dispel the pervasive coldness and confusion.
He poured a glass of wine, the clear liquid swayed in the rough ceramic cup, and he looked down at his reflection in the cup.
The reflection showed a young face, whose eyebrows and eyes vaguely bore the outlines of his previous life, but whose temperament was completely different.
He is no longer the high-spirited and ambitious Fu Yuxianjun, the young master of Yaowang Valley, who stands shoulder to shoulder with Mo Zhiyuan.
This face has a lingering fatigue, and deep in the eyes is confusion and a hint of imperceptible humility.
The water in the cup rippled, and the face twisted and deformed. Sometimes it looked like himself in his memory, and sometimes it looked like the little disciple Bai Qingchen who was in a mess on the ring and was swept by Mo Zhiyuan's eyes.
Who is he now?
In order to get close to Mo Zhiyuan, he went to great lengths to join the Lingxiao Sect, enduring the discrimination due to his qualifications and the difficulties of cultivation.
He worked hard to make elixirs and draw talismans to improve his strength, just to be closer to him. He thought that as long as he saw him, everything would be fine.
But today, he saw it.
The life-saving sword light was so sharp that it made his heart tremble, and the cold gaze was so unfamiliar that it made him feel chilled.
In Mo Zhiyuan's eyes, he, Bai Qingchen, was no different from any dying disciple on the ring.
In fact, it might even be more annoying because of the demonic blood.
Everything he had done, all of this... was it really worth it?
Does it really make sense? Was it all just wishful thinking from the beginning to the end?
Immortal Lord Fu Yu died a long time ago. Now he is just a useless person with five spiritual roots. How dare the light of a firefly compete with the bright moon?
The figure reflected in the cup shook more violently and became blurry.
Bai Qingchen picked up the wine glass, tilted his head back and drank the spicy wine in one gulp. The hot liquid burned down his throat all the way to his stomach, bringing a brief warmth, but was immediately covered by a deeper chill.
He put down the wine glass dejectedly, rested his elbows on the cold stone table, and buried his face deeply in his palms.
His shoulders slumped slightly, and the only sounds in the yard were the whimpering of the mountain wind blowing through the dead branches and his suppressed, heavy breathing.
Bai Qingchen, it’s time to wake up from your dream.
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