No matter how uncomfortable a place was, Ren Yijue could always find some way to make himself comfortable in it.
The two had nothing agreeable to say to each other. Fortunately, Qian Xuelang was not talkative to begin with, so even awkwardness was spared them. The only sound in Bright Moon Mist Tower was the faint noise of Ren Yijue drinking tea.
Only after finishing a cup did Ren Yijue say, “I should not disturb the Jade Beauty’s rest again, but there are still some things I need to ask Yin Wuchen. I will have to trouble the Jade Beauty to come with me once more.”
Qian Xuelang rose. The cup beside his hand had already gone cold. The blue-green tea had lost all its heat, clear enough to see the bottom of the cup, with not the slightest ripple on its surface.
He took a sip of the cold tea. Fragrance lingered on his lips and teeth, and the aftertaste remained sweet, yet he felt no attachment to it and simply set the cup back on the table.
Had he been the sort to cling to such things, Qian Xuelang would never have formed a bond with the Immortal Dao more than a century ago, much less met He Tianjun.
The two had only just reached Dustless Waterside Pavilion when a thunderous explosion suddenly sounded. Dust and smoke billowed in the distance, startling several birds from the treetops. They flapped across the sky, only to burst apart in the next instant. Bloody fragments scattered through the blue heavens and transformed into gloomy demonic qi that streamed in every direction.
The demonic qi was extraordinarily dense, black as ink. In the blink of an eye it spread outward, blotting out the sky and sun, and daylight abruptly darkened.
“What happened?” Ren Yijue looked up, his expression changing sharply. Hesitation entered his voice. “Is… is that Yin Wuchen?”
The blood-drinking art was unmistakably Yin Wuchen’s, but since when had Yin Wuchen possessed power on such a scale?
Only Qian Xuelang stared at the distant phenomenon and narrowed his eyes. “It is him, and it is not.”
There was no time for a more detailed explanation. Without hesitation, Qian Xuelang left Ren Yijue behind. His figure flashed, and he was already at the moon gate outside Quiet Mountain Cloud Residence.
Ren Yijue’s quarters had collapsed. Yin Wuchen, who should have been sunk in deep sleep, was suspended in midair, demonic qi coiling around his entire body like chains.
Some of the demonic qi circled around him, while some had already burrowed beneath his skin. His clothes obscured much of it, making the details difficult to see, but black qi visibly traveled beneath the skin of his hands, neck, and face, surging heavily like puppet strings pulling from within.
His refined, elegant face was now twisted in extreme agony. His eyes and mouth gaped open as he struggled without cease, as though trying to shout, trying to beg for help, or simply unable to bear the power inside him and desperate to release some of it.
This aura! It is the aura that was on Wentian all those years ago!
Qian Xuelang’s expression turned grave. When Wentian had been retrieved from the battlefield long ago, residual demon blood had rusted the sword until it was nearly scrap iron.
Even after Qian Xuelang brought Wentian back and washed it in the spirit pool, it took more than twenty years before the sword finally escaped the corrosion of the demonic qi and could be safely kept at his master’s residence.
The demonic qi he sensed now was somewhat fainter than what had remained in the demon blood on Wentian, but it was unquestionably the same aura from those years.
It is that demon… the one who perished together with Master!
Using Yin Wuchen’s body as a conduit, the demonic qi streamed everywhere. Small birds were the first to suffer. Next would be…
By the time Qian Xuelang drew near, he saw Lüyun beside a tall path lantern. Demonic qi was already pouring into her mouth and nose. Her bamboo basket lay overturned on the ground, lamp oil splashed everywhere among scattered cotton wicks.
Her snow-white skin shriveled into chicken-like wrinkles; her beautiful face became bare bone in an instant. In the blink of an eye, Lüyun, who had been replacing the lamp wicks, became a dried corpse. Demonic qi escaped from her seven orifices, now considerably stronger than before.
Qian Xuelang drew his saber and slashed. The saber qi was overwhelmingly powerful. The demonic qi dancing across the path could not withstand it and had no strength even to resist, vanishing in an instant. The flowers and plants along the way vanished with it, leaves shredded and blossoms destroyed.
The demonic qi roaming in search of food was too scattered and chaotic. Screams began rising one after another throughout the City Lord’s Manor. Qian Xuelang narrowed his eyes.
He could faintly sense Yin Wuchen becoming something more terrifying, something harder to imagine.
The demonic qi was relying only on his instincts to strengthen itself.
He was becoming a demon.
By then Ren Yijue had caught up and called again, “Jade Beauty? What is happening?”
“Leave, quickly! Find somewhere safe and hide.” Qian Xuelang’s voice was frigid. “Yin Wuchen is about to become a demon!”
Ren Yijue froze in shock, momentarily unable to speak. Seeing Qian Xuelang pursue Yin Wuchen into the courtyard, he forced himself to think.
The demonic qi was vicious. The only sensible course now was to find the patrolling disciples first: warn them to defend themselves, then ask where Cui Jingchun was. As Young City Lord, Cui Jingchun’s words would carry far more weight than Ren Yijue’s.
Once his mind was made up, Ren Yijue immediately changed direction and hurried away.
Sensing Ren Yijue moving in the opposite direction, Qian Xuelang relaxed slightly. He tightened his grip on Honglu, the chill in his eyes deepening.
No matter how this demon had escaped death, no matter how many times it intended to return to life, today Qian Xuelang would send it back onto the road to the Yellow Springs it should have taken sixty years ago!
The blood aura around Honglu’s blade grew steadily denser. Wei Wenfeng’s wish to slay demons had always been hidden within the saber, so when its edge was first honed, it had been bathed in demon blood. As a result, it possessed an unexpectedly powerful suppressive effect against half-demons.
When Ling Baiyao had died beneath the saber before he could even react, the difference in cultivation was not the only reason. Honglu itself had unquestionably played a part.
Yin Wuchen’s eyes suddenly moved in midair. As his transformation advanced, a gray film had spread over them, leaving them vacant. Bones cracked throughout his body as though he were being born anew.
Yin Wuchen’s long hair streamed around him. His clouded eyes stared without blinking at Honglu as its scarlet glow intensified. In a dry, rasping voice, he said, “Saber… danger! Dangerous!”
By the final word, his voice had become a furious roar. Sensing the threat before him, the demonic qi surrounding his body abruptly plunged inward, no longer binding his limbs. He crashed heavily into the ruins below, throwing up an enormous cloud of dust.
Before the dust could settle, Yin Wuchen charged out. Qian Xuelang’s expression did not change. He swung Honglu to meet him. The saber qi tore through Yin Wuchen’s clothes and was about to cut into his body when it abruptly lost force, as though the blade had struck something soft and yielding that gave it no purchase.
Yin Wuchen had raised his hands to defend himself. Demonic qi poured from his palms like supple cords, winding around Honglu’s slender blade and binding the saber softly between his hands.
Qian Xuelang let go without the slightest hesitation. Endless demonic qi swallowed Honglu whole. He narrowed his eyes in thought, remembered Yin Wuchen’s instinct to devour flesh and blood, then suddenly raised his left wrist to his mouth and bit down hard. Blood immediately poured from the wound.
Qian Xuelang had fed Honglu his blood for many years. Though the saber had no spiritual consciousness, it had developed a response to him. The instant it sensed its master’s blood, its power surged, and it began struggling ever more fiercely within the demonic qi.
Yin Wuchen’s clouded eyes snapped toward Qian Xuelang’s wrist. The ravenous instinct for flesh and blood rose within him, and even the demonic qi around his body was deeply affected, every strand trembling. His arms moved wildly as though dancing, saliva gathering and spilling from his mouth. “Blood… blood!”
The scent of blood stirred not only Honglu, but the demonic qi as well. It erupted into chaos and rushed at Qian Xuelang. He showed no fear at all, raising one hand and shouting, “Come!”
The instant the word fell, Honglu tore through the demonic barrier. Scarlet light shot straight into the sky. The saber spun several times in midair before returning to Qian Xuelang’s hand, and he turned with it, sweeping out a blade of saber light.
The force of Honglu breaking free was tremendous. Yin Wuchen’s attention had been drawn away by the blood, weakening his control over the demonic qi. Thus, the moment Honglu escaped, the demonic qi recoiled and slipped out of his control. Struck immediately afterward by the saber light, it exploded with a thunderous crash.
The backlash hurled Yin Wuchen into half a ruined wall. His chest and abdomen churned violently, and he suddenly spat out a mouthful of black blood that splashed across the hem of Qian Xuelang’s white robe.
Qian Xuelang raised Honglu into position. Ignoring the wound on his left wrist, he gripped the saber hilt with both hands and drove it downward…
“Wait!”
Honglu plunged straight through Yin Wuchen’s chest, piercing bone and emerging from his back. At the brink of death, Yin Wuchen briefly regained his senses. His eyes opened wide, seeming at once ecstatic and terrified, before the light in them faded.