The scar-faced man collapsed, unable to hold on any longer, while several withered skeletons crawled upward. The air was thick with a nauseating stench was this truly how he was going to die?
To perish in a Potter’s Field, where even the trouble of collecting one’s corpse was spared.
That swarm of skeletons knew no fatigue and could not be killed. A single person could barely manage to resist, but if the storyteller had to protect someone else as well, he was clearly stretched far beyond his limits.
In a flash, Bei Si arrived by the scar-faced man’s side, striking the skeletons away with a single palm strike. He dropped to his knees beside him, only to see that the scar-faced man’s hand the one that had made direct contact with the corpse—was completely deformed, with pus and blood pooling all over the ground.
It was already ruined.
The rate of infection was horrifyingly fast; at this point, there was only one method left to preserve the scar-faced man’s life.
“You have a Gu worm inside your body. If we don’t sever your arm, your life cannot be saved.” Bei Si knew this was the best course of action to minimize losses, but the final decision rested with the man himself.
Every breath the scar-faced man drew felt arduous and agonizing. It was his most treasured right hand. Taking a deep breath, he gave a nod nonetheless.
The bizarre, misshapen skeletons continued their unflagging approach. Refusing to let down his guard, the storyteller remained tense all over, observing their surroundings while wielding his folding fan until it sparked with heat.
That tiny spark…
Employing remote-casting arts, Bei Si forced all the Gu worms inside the scar-faced man’s body to surge toward his right arm, instructing, “Use fire.”
Hearing this, the storyteller immediately understood what Bei Si intended to do. Yet Chi Xinyan was a mere mortal how could he possibly endure such intense heat?
Never mind, he figured. Bei Si treasured Chi Xinyan far too deeply to ever need outsiders worrying about him.
Forming hand seals, the storyteller conjured a tiny flame at his fingertips and tossed it toward the skeletons. In an instant, blue-green flames surged upward, connecting into a sea of fire that lit the sky. The burning speed was terrifyingly fast, and the phosphorous fire raged ceaselessly, illuminating the surroundings as bright as day.
The skeletons collapsed one after another, reducing to heaps of residual ash. The crows shrieked wildly, emitting shrill, human-like cries as the temperature soared. Fortunately, this was merely ordinary fire and posed no threat to cultivators.
Standing nearby, Chi Xinyan watched Bei Si’s movements with earnest attention. Initially, he had been worried that the sudden blaze might generate a scorching heat unbearable for a mortal, and had been wondering what to do; but almost immediately, he felt a comforting warmth radiating from the jade pendant resting against his chest, completely neutralizing all the searing heat just as Bei Si smoothed away all his negative emotions.
It would be even better without that damned sword intent from Bei Xuanshang.
Seeing that Bei Si had already forced out the Gu worms and picked up his sword, Chi Xinyan watched unblinkingly, only to accidentally lock gazes with those deep, handsome eyes.
Almost forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to be able to witness such a bloody spectacle, Chi Xinyan hurriedly compensated by tightly closing his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering as if he were frightened out of his wits.
Following a low, pain-filled groan, Chi Xinyan opened his eyes a few seconds later. The scar-faced man had already been given medicinal pills, and his wounds had stopped bleeding.
Amidst the roaring heat, a distinct coolness washed over them. If the prominent sensation upon first entering the Potter’s Field had been bone-chilling cold, this current chill felt like a block of summer ice crisp, refreshing, and deeply penetrating.
It was the Aiyou grass!
It was truly right here.
Under the contrast of searing heat and freezing cold, that chilling aura was unmistakable. Had they been searching blindly without this clue, there was no telling how much time and energy it would have taken to find it within this bottomless sea of corpses.
Unfazed by the blazing inferno, Bei Si took Chi Xinyan’s hand, following the trail of that chilling aura forward while the surrounding flames automatically parted by three paces, unable to draw near even at the edges.
A streak of blue fluorescence flickered in the distance, standing out brightly against the monotonous color palette. Without needing to guess, they knew it had to be the Aiyou grass they were searching for.
Amidst the roaring thunder of the raging fire, Bei Si’s earlobes twitched slightly. Raising his sword, he neatly deflected an unexpected, stealthy streak of sword intent.
A blurred afterimage burst out from the shadows, lunging forward aggressively with a drawn sword while piercing through the air with a shrill whistle. Bei Si’s expression remained completely unchanged; even with a mortal accompanying him by his side, he handled the assault with effortless ease.
“You brats! You got lucky and managed to break my formation, but this is where your luck ends.” He Dao sneered dismissively, not taking them seriously in the least. As an elder of a prominent clan, dealing with a couple of wet-behind-the-ears youngsters was child’s play to him. “Prepare to die!”
The sword radiated a brilliant, crystalline light, channeled with the full cultivation of its master. He Dao had determined to take both their lives in a single strike, dismissing what had just been blocked as mere luck.
Yet after several consecutive sword thrusts, the opponent dodged every single one with effortless ease. That casual, unconcerned attitude utterly infuriated him. With a heavy frown, He Dao unleashed a sword-qi pressure heavy as Mount Tai. The scar-faced man, standing a short distance behind them, found himself utterly unable to take a single step forward, his body feeling as though it were being crushed beneath the weight of a thousand catties—the Great Elder was unleashing a fatal killing blow!
Bei Si looked young; how could he possibly withstand a battle-hardened old fox? The scar-faced man’s heart clenched tight. The other had essentially acted as his savior; how could he possibly stand by and watch him march to his death?
“You stinky old fool! Your conscience was eaten by dogs!” the scar-faced man roared angrily, his chest heaving violently as he coughed heavily several times.
Narrowing his eyes upon catching sight of the scar-faced man missing an arm, He Dao sneered upon hearing his words: “The next one to die will be you!”
In the blink of an eye, that sword grew geometrically in size, its destructive power multiplying exponentially. A single downward slash like this was enough to tear a gaping fissure right across the earth.
Timing was everything in battle; how could anyone afford to wait for their opponent to finish charging their stance?
What appeared to ordinary onlookers as a fleeting fraction of a second was nothing more than slow motion in Bei Si’s eyes. Watching He Dao’s arrogant demeanor, Chi Xinyan felt a rare spark of amusement it was far too slow.
In a sequence of events completely beyond anyone’s anticipation, Bei Si vanished like a ghost, appearing directly before He Dao in the blink of an eye. Just as Bei Si was about to pierce straight through his heart, He Dao’s body suddenly jerked sideways, causing the blade to pierce through his abdomen instead, while his nearly-formed sword intent plummeted like a shooting star.
“Y-you…” He Dao stared in sheer disbelief. In all his hundreds of years of life, he had never witnessed such a terrifying young man. Was this someone disguising themselves as an ancestor from some ancient family?
Amidst the general astonishment, the corners of Chi Xinyan’s lips curled upward. As expected of the person he loved; his cultivation talent was undoubtedly far superior to that righteous sect chief.
Clutching his bleeding abdomen, He Dao retreated rapidly.
If he hadn’t instinctively manipulated the corpses beneath his feet at the last fraction of a second to jolt himself aside, that fatal sword strike would have already ended his life.
The earth trembled violently. The skeletal remains beneath their feet began to stir restlessly, writhing frantically and flowing like a liquid mass.
Because of the presence of the Aiyou grass, the flames at the perimeter did not dare to draw near, forming a distinct isolation belt. Under the illumination of the firelight, the sea of corpses could be clearly seen shifting and squirming; rotting flesh peeled off everywhere, and a hoarse, rattling roar pierced straight through their eardrums.
The very ground beneath their feet was composed entirely of corpses; unlike earlier, there was no longer any patch of solid black mud to step upon—there was truly nowhere left to evade.
This Potter’s Field had actually turned into a corpse-nurturing ground for the He clan!
Only the spot where the Aiyou grass grew remained tranquil. At its center rested a square ice coffin, inside of which lay an old man with closed eyes, clutching a block of ice tightly to his chest.
The plant looked remarkably like an orchid, bearing green leaves and several icy-blue blossoms blooming upon it. Its roots were deeply embedded within the blocks of ice, exuding a captivating, bewitching beauty this was precisely the Aiyou grass they had been seeking.
He Dao vanished into the surging mass of corpses, concealing his whereabouts.
The undulating earth disrupted their footing, making even standing steadily an arduous task. When they attempted to fly on swords, the corpses below linked together into a massive web, surging like violent ocean waves; any corpse that failed to hook into the formation simply dropped down in a clattering, scattered drizzle.
The storyteller had never witnessed such an endless mountain of severed limbs and skeletal remains in his entire life, gagging in dry revulsion several times. Both he and the scar-faced man were members of the He clan, yet they had never once heard a whisper of this corpse-raising secret. The old man lying inside the ice bed was unequivocally the clan head.
This “wave” of corpses was far too dense to pierce through. Even if they managed to punch a hole through it, it mended itself almost instantly. Those corpses opened their jaws wide, exposing jagged, uneven teeth, biting down indiscriminately on anything whether fellow corpses or living beings.
A sea of corpses and blood. Chi Xinyan remained completely calm inwardly; after all, he had crawled his very way up out of a mountain of ten thousand bones. The corpses beneath his feet didn’t dare stir in the slightest; that fatal, crushing wave of oppression bore down upon them so fiercely that even their master’s commands could no longer summon them, leaving them as quiet and docile as quails.
Chi Xinyan pulled gently on Bei Si’s hand and murmured a few soft words.
Bei Si immediately rejected the idea, saying, “No, it’s too dangerous.”
Chi Xinyan had anticipated that Bei Si would refuse, and had already prepared his reasoning. As those beautiful eyes gazed up at him, Bei Si felt as though he could willingly hand over his very heart. “It’s because I’m so useless…”
Without a moment of hesitation, Bei Si replied, “You aren’t.”
“Don’t you believe you can protect me? If you get injured trying to fetch the Aiyou grass, I’ll die of guilt…” Chi Xinyan put on a pitiful act. Seeing Bei Si part his lips as if to speak again, he added, “Don’t we still have the jade pendant?”
Naturally, Bei Si could guarantee he would keep Chi Xinyan safe; he simply didn’t want his lover to risk himself. Yet meeting those earnest eyes, he ultimately gave a nod of assent.
Seeing Bei Si agree, Chi Xinyan felt a sudden, bittersweet twist in his heart—was it because he trusted that sword intent inside the jade pendant to protect him? He didn’t cherish that life-saving piece of trash sword intent in the slightest.
He closed his eyes, pretending he couldn’t bear to look at the wretched corpses, but in reality, he was merely concealing the faint red glow bleeding into his pupils.
Having escaped and drawn a deep breath, He Dao looked at his own handiwork with a satisfied, triumphant smile, manipulating the corpses to launch an assault. You want to escape from inside? In your dreams.
This was a secret art he had spent ten whole years cultivating. Imagining their miserable ends, He Dao laughed heartily only to pull on his wound, drawing in a sharp hiss of cold breath through his teeth, instantly reigniting his fury. Bah, go ahead and die! Brats!
At that exact moment, the earth shuddered violently beneath them.
What was going on? He hadn’t even given any instructions to control the corpses below.
He Dao’s heart skipped a beat, a faint, ominous premonition dawning on him. Th-this… How is this possible?!
They had broken free of his control!
No matter how frantically he tried to re-establish his connection and regain command, it was all utterly futile.
With a sudden jerk, a pair of rigid, withered hands grabbed him from both sides. Driven by momentum, he crashed heavily onto the ground, looking precisely like a piece of meat awaiting slaughter on a chopping board!
Crack, crack. The sound of bones twisting echoed out.
Struggling frantically, He Dao tried to lift his head to break free of the control, only to see a half-decayed corpse crawling right toward him. Its face was covered in crawling maggots without a single patch of intact flesh, its features entirely unrecognizable.
It crawled straight toward him, exuding a horrifying mixture of foul odors that choked him until he felt like gagging, his head forced backward at an awkward angle.
Without warning, a heavy slap came crashing down across his face. The corpse applied so much force that its entire arm detached and went flying off, leaving only the wrist remaining against He Dao’s face. He Dao was beaten so thoroughly that his brain felt scrambled and his eyes widened in sheer disbelief. What… what is going on here?
The corpse laboriously stretched open its rotting jaws, exposing its yellow, jagged teeth, and cursed in a hoarse, rattling rasp: “Stinky, old, fool.”
Then it leaned forward once more, this time swinging its left hand.
Seeing it coming at him again, He Dao nearly pissed his pants. Striving desperately backward to retreat in vain, he could only shout wildly in absolute futility: “Who are you?!”
A nearby corpse let out an eerie, cackling laugh hee hee hee grinning widely at He Dao before falling flat on top of him with a heavy thud.
Struggling with all his might, He Dao still couldn’t shift his position an inch, forced to endure that sticky, disgusting physical contact.
The earth surged upward, carrying him along as it sped rapidly back toward the very location he had just retreated from. Leaving him entirely without a chance to resist, a “wave” of corpses flung him high into the air, tossing him in a high arc straight back to where he started.
The scar-faced man was currently hacking and slashing wildly in a frantic search for an exit, cursing He Dao’s name with every breath, when he turned around and spotted He Dao right in front of him. This stinky old man actually dared to show his face so brazenly?!
He Dao: “…”