Chapter 158

Yun Shuchen was shaken by the spectacle as well. She blinked, and a warm streak splashed across her cheek, followed by the suffocating stench of blood.

She squinted at her disciple, drenched in blood, and for a moment felt a strange sense of estrangement.

To outsiders, Qing Zhouxue stood alone. Only she could see the dense, countless sword shadows swirling around her, trailing after her, spiraling in jubilant circles.

They cared not whether they hurt anyone; they merely followed the Qingshuang Sword in a gleeful sweep. And then those bodies shattered into pulp, without even a chance to struggle.

Guan Weiqing and the other elders stood frozen in place, utterly stunned.

Many of those who had come were inner disciples—in other words, juniors they had known in daily life.

Yet in an instant, they had perished in the blood mist, not even a scrap of intact clothing left behind.

It was chilling.

Qing Zhouxue landed, her bare hands groping weakly as she brushed aside the obstructing phantoms.

Guan Weiqing stepped back half a pace, his brows furrowed, and stammered for once, "This..."

"What is—"

Qing Zhouxue thrust her sword forward, and countless sword spirits found their direction, surging toward him.

He was a cultivator at the Da Cheng stage.

And Qing Zhouxue had just finished the Immortal Ascension Assembly—the world knew she was at most at the late Nascent Soul stage.

The sword hadn't even truly touched him when his dao robe was already cut through, drawing blood.

Seeing the danger, Guan Weiqing hastily conjured a barrier, light blooming from his hand. When the sword struck, the wide shield was covered in cracks, dense and numerous.

Qing Zhouxue was thrown back a few steps by the force. She turned her blade, and through blood-streaked eyes, she vaguely recognized familiar faces among the crowd.

Those who had bound her with the demon-slaying rope...

Those who had lit the fire... Who had snapped her hand bones and then severed her tendons one by one...

A pair of eyes, greedy and hungry for power, staring at her.

The memories flashed for an instant. Her pupils contracted, and the Qingshuang Sword straightened abruptly, sweeping toward those heads, carving a frost-white arc from the blade's light.

She drew and thrust in one motion. Thousands of sword shadows clustered ferociously toward the blade's direction.

Another mist of blood spread, splattering like blooming fireworks.

Then all sound vanished.

By now, a layer of blood had pooled on the ground, making a crisp squelching sound as Qing Zhouxue moved.

No one dared step forward to stop her.

In just a few strikes, only Guan Weiqing remained of the Liuyun Sect. The allied sects dared not approach lightly, fearing they might lose their own strength.

Even the people of the Taichu Sect held their breath. As Qing Zhouxue walked past, they unconsciously made way for her.

She returned to Yun Shuchen's side, her steps already unsteady. The stench of blood rushed to her head.

Qing Zhouxue disliked the smell.

Nor had she ever imagined she could kill so many, as easily as slicing radishes and cabbages—her hand rising and falling with startling ease.

The sword spirits were all born of deadly weapons. They were ecstatic amidst the blood, their joyful, untamed cries affecting even Qing Zhouxue.

The voices of the sword spirits filled her ears, and for a moment, she was tempted to heed their seduction, to slaughter every invader in the Sword Tomb until not a single one remained—

Hallucinations appeared before Qing Zhouxue's eyes. She felt she was no longer in the Sword Tomb but on that day—face to face with that giant eye in the sky.

When thunder roared from all sides.

At first she couldn't see clearly, but now she did. The enormous eye twisted like a vortex, and within it gradually emerged a face.

It was her own face.

Half demonic, alluring and sinister; half celestial, fair as jade.

One thought becomes demon, one thought becomes immortal.

Before long, those two halves began to twist, merging, gradually contorting into chaos, spinning rapidly like a taiji emblem, until she saw only a blur—neither black nor white, but a dull gray.

A thread of human reason clung to her at the last moment.

When she came to, she was still dazed. Everyone was staring at her, their gazes following her like shadows, laced with fear and curiosity.

Qing Zhouxue instinctively shrank from those eyes and leaned toward Yun Shuchen. Her master's face was also streaked with blood—large patches of it—making her eyes sting.

The sword in her hand drooped loosely.

"..." Guan Weiqing's voice trembled. "That's the lives of over a hundred people... She's lost all reason. What are you waiting for? Someone like her, someone like her..."

Before he could finish, his hand formed a mass of spiritual power. With a furious shout, he hurled it with all his strength at the two of them.

Yun Shuchen moved to shield Qing Zhouxue, but was shoved aside with great force.

In that instant, Qing Zhouxue's gaze, which had been gradually softening, sharpened. She faced that overflowing orb of spiritual power—

And struck out with another sword.

The sword's shadow collided with the spiritual power, bursting with a bang.

The entire stone chamber shook three times.

Guan Weiqing felt only a blur of white pass by, then his eyes could no longer see anything. His body throbbed with pain, and then he could no longer feel pain at all.

The Qingshuang Sword sheathed itself with a clang.

The figure of the Liuyun Sect Leader still stood, but he did not move.

That mortal body began to dissolve from the head. Because the sword spirits moved so swiftly and densely, it didn't feel like being sliced by a blade, but more like snow and ice melting.

Skin, hair, flesh, and bones melted away, until finally the dantian shattered, scattering into a drift of faint spiritual light.

Yun Shuchen opened her mouth, staring blankly at Qing Zhouxue.

From childhood, Qing'er had been clever in sword dao and smooth in cultivation, but Yun Shuchen had never sensed any heaven-defying combat ability in her.

It seemed just like her gifted peers.

Until entering the Sword Tomb, where she seemed to awaken something and thrived. In this small world, she truly revealed a terrifyingly supreme power.

Qing Zhouxue's nose was filled with the stench of blood, her mind buzzing. She no longer wanted to hold her sword, so she let the Qingshuang Sword fly into the distance and turned back to embrace Yun Shuchen.

"Master... let's go."

She opened her eyes. Whatever Yun Shuchen was saying seemed to drift far, far away in that instant. She could only see her blood-stained lips moving, her tone still gentle, as if urging her to take the Starfire.

Starfire... fine.

She wanted Starfire.

Qing Zhouxue nodded vaguely, released Yun Shuchen numbly, and before everyone's eyes, flew again on her sword toward that lamp.

She didn't even need to expend effort. She simply grabbed it, and Starfire quickly folded into a flickering flame, hovering in her palm.

Cradling the firelight, Qing Zhouxue walked quickly back to Yun Shuchen. The warm glow leaking through her fingers softened her frost-white features.

With Starfire in hand, together with her master, they would leave this place—this ground covered in blood, this place full of outsiders. She wanted to return to Taichu and watch the sunset over Heyi Peak.

Their shadows on the stone wall shifted from blurry to clear, then gradually merged and overlapped into a bold, dark stroke.

It was then that she met her master's eyes.

Those eyes remained soft and affectionate, reflecting a small image of herself.

Yet, inexplicably, a thin layer of tears had faintly formed within them, glimmering like fireflies.

Yun Shuchen's lashes slowly lowered, then shut tight. When she raised them again, the surging emotions faded bit by bit.

Her gaze turned utterly cold.

Qing Zhouxue had never been wary of Yun Shuchen; she had never imagined this scene. A palm struck her chest, shattering all her visions, slamming her back to reality and sending her flying.

Elder Zhong and Elder Yue seized the opportunity, each catching one of her arms, steadying her.

Qing Zhouxue coughed up a mouthful of blood. She couldn't speak for a long moment, only staring at Yun Shuchen in shock, her mind blank.

Yun Shuchen turned, grasped Starfire, and smiled at the crowd before tucking it into her sleeve.

At that moment, Elder Zhong roared in fury, "Yun Shuchen, we've been fellow disciples for years, yet I never saw how cold-hearted you are! When did you turn to demonic arts, controlling the Sword Soul's mind to make her kill and seize treasures for you, committing such sins?!"

Qing Zhouxue grew even more stunned. She trembled and struggled to speak.

—What was Elder Zhong saying? The killing was her own doing. What did it have to do with her master?!

But the words never came out. Yue Changge cast a silencing spell on her, and all her sounds were swallowed as if drowning in an ocean. She could no longer even voice commands to the sword spirits.

Yue Changge promptly covered Qing Zhouxue's mouth and whispered, "Little ancestor, keep quiet."

The various immortal masters finally came to their senses. They looked at the center of the Sword Tomb—empty—and Yun Shuchen glanced at him dismissively. "Ridiculous. I've always been of the demonic race. What 'turning to' would there be?"

Qing Zhouxue had easily taken Starfire, which was proof she was the true Sword Soul.

Everyone had been so shocked by the sudden turn that they hadn't come to their senses—what about Gu Ruoshui, the senior disciple of Liuyun Sect?

In the hearts of cultivators, especially sword cultivators, the Sword Soul had always been like a guiding light.

Was it truly her? How could she be so cruel?

The corpses and broken bones strewn all over were undeniable fact. Starfire falling into Qing Zhouxue's palm left them no choice but to believe.

Hearing this exchange, they suddenly understood—it must be some demonic trick to bewitch the mind. Such an explanation fit their expectations, and whether it made sense or not, it suddenly seemed plausible.

Their indignation, which they couldn't yet direct at Qing Zhouxue, all shifted to Yun Shuchen. Someone already demanded, "Isn't she your disciple? How could you bear to do this?!"

Yun Shuchen only smiled lightly at this. "If not for the Sword Soul and this moment, who would have taken her in?"

Qing Zhouxue's heart stuttered painfully—half from the injury, half from Yun Shuchen's words. Her blood surged, her mind in turmoil. She tried to muster her power again, but before she could even rise, she spat out another mouthful of blood into Yue Changge's arms.

Yun Shuchen gave one last, long look at her fellow disciples of the Taichu Sect, her gaze steady, then withdrew it with a sigh.

For some reason, she deliberately did not look at Qing Zhouxue.

And with that, she had no more worries.

Qing Zhouxue watched that figure merge into the crowd. Her master raised a hand and lifted a sleeve, and a sky-covering wave of air erupted around her, sending who knew how many more to meet the King of Hell. By now, she was indiscriminate—anyone who drew near lay on the ground, their livers and gallbladders split in fear. The elders of the remaining sects, all weaker than Yun Shuchen, mostly feared her and retreated step by step. Indeed, even with all their sect's strength, they could not stop her.

Yun Shuchen directly shattered that rift.

Her form dissolved into countless points of light, threading through it and away, leaving without a trace of reluctance.

Those points of light illuminated Qing Zhouxue's pupils. She reached out a hand, instinctively trying to hold on to something.

But the lights scattered like a flock of butterflies.

Not even a speck of ash was left for her.