In his previous life, Fu Xi Yan had loved superheroes. He had even fantasized that one day lightning might strike him without killing him, and he’d evolve directly into version 9.0 of humanity. In this life, his wish had, in a sense, come true. After all, the world’s rules were already established; how far he could go depended on his own talent and persistence. The process of being struck by lightning, though, was not quite what he had imagined.
In his imagination, a lightning strike was the culmination of spectacularly bad luck. In reality, the lightning chased after its target with terrifying enthusiasm.
Pei Yuan Jin sped along the road while thunderclouds whirled above him as if riding on wind-and-fire wheels, leaving long trailing ribbons of cloud. Faint sparks crackled inside like meat sizzling on a grill.
Except there was no meat in the clouds, so for now the grill was empty.
At first Fu Xi Yan ran beside him, but as time went on, the repelling force centered on Pei Yuan Jin grew increasingly powerful. Even Jing Luo was forced to keep his distance.
Yan Xie, meanwhile, seemed to have switched from a guided tour to independent travel. They only occasionally glimpsed him passing along the road. His position was wildly inconsistent, presumably depending on how many pills he’d swallowed.
Traffic along the official road gradually grew denser. Suddenly, a terrible bolt of thunder descended. Its hideous shape carried a world-splitting force, as though it intended to cleave the ground in two.
The lightning struck too quickly for most people to react. Its flash illuminated only bewildered, numb, tense faces. But the consequences would have been unthinkable if it had reached the road.
Pei Yuan Jin pushed lightly off the ground and leaped upward. The Crimson Dragon King in his hand flashed red, its radiance no less brilliant than the thunderbolt, and he slashed straight into the descending lightning.
Lightning struck the sword and raced along its blade into Pei Yuan Jin’s body.
Fu Xi Yan winced just watching.
But Pei Yuan Jin did not even knit his brows. He landed, rolled his wrist twice, and traced a sword flower. The lightning vanished without a trace.
Fu Xi Yan was about to come closer and speak when Pei Yuan Jin kicked off the ground and flew more than ten zhang ahead. By the time Fu Xi Yan caught up, even his silhouette was gone.
* * *
Pei Yuan Jin and his companions were not the only people heading against the flow of traffic on the official roads around Haojing. A carriage escorted by several martial artists was also proceeding steadily toward the city.
After seeing so many commoners fleeing Haojing, the person inside the carriage grew uneasy. He was about to send someone to ask what was happening when one of the martial artists returned with an explanation.
“The emperor ordered the people to evacuate?” The man frowned in displeasure. “The northern defenses have only suffered a breach. The enemy is still far from Haojing. Before he’s even seen the Mongwu barbarians, he’s rushing to abandon the capital. Northern Zhou’s emperor is only good at bullying his own subjects.” For certain reasons, he had never thought highly of Emperor Jianhong.
The martial artist stood beside the carriage, watching expectantly and awaiting orders.
“Don’t bother with them,” said the man inside. “The Young Master always goes wherever the wind is fiercest to make trouble, so he certainly won’t leave. The Young Madam’s family is in Haojing; even if she leaves, she’ll come back. Let’s go wait at the Count of Yongfeng’s residence.”
The martial artist ventured, “We saw quite a few people with injured hands and feet along the road, and some elderly people and children with high fevers. Perhaps…”
Someone inside the carriage grumbled. After a moment, a vigorous-looking old man emerged with a face full of impatience.
The martial artist smiled ingratiatingly. “Sorry to trouble you, Pharmacist Jiang.”
Jiang Xiu glared at him. “Where are they?”
The martial artist hurried to lead the way.
Because the refugees had been forced to leave the capital so suddenly, many had not brought all their belongings, and medicine was in short supply. People had fevers or broken legs, and the sight was wretched.
Jiang Xiu worked remarkably quickly. Often, one pill was enough to stabilize a patient’s condition in moments, and the delighted commoners repeatedly hailed him as a miracle physician.
Since joining Immortal Treasury Palace, Jiang Xiu had devoted himself to refining pills and seldom treated ordinary patients. Now, reminded that he had not lost his touch, he felt thoroughly pleased with himself.
His spirits lifted and his thoughts sharpened. He frowned at an elderly woman and scolded, “At your age, where are you running off to, abandoning your home? The north is doing perfectly well. Those Mongwu barbarians are like headless flies. Do you actually expect to see them before you die of old age? Why not stay comfortably in the capital instead of heading north to suffer?”
“Miracle physician, what are you saying?” the woman cried. “If we could have stayed in the capital, why would we have fled?”
A nearby martial artist asked excitedly, “What do you mean?”
“A black demon tower suddenly appeared in Haojing,” the elderly woman said. “They say it eats people.”
Jiang Xiu rose with a sweep of his sleeves, climbed straight into the carriage, and settled himself. Then he angrily pushed open the window. “Didn’t you say you’d already intercepted that tower from the New City?”
“Chief Steward Qi personally led the party,” the martial artist answered. “The report I received at the time did say they’d stopped it.”
“Hmph.” Jiang Xiu slammed the window shut. A moment later, unable to contain his fury even inside the carriage, he opened it again. “Hurry up! If we arrive too late, don’t expect to set foot on Fujun Mountain to meet the Palace Master!”
The martial artist on horseback went rigid with dread. He almost wished he could dismount and carry his horse on his back!
* * *
Many people imagined that Haojing must now be the scene of fierce, chaotic fighting, with both sides exchanging attacks. In fact, the situation had fallen into a strangely motionless stalemate.
The White Tiger King felt as though he were standing on the edge of a precipice. One step forward would plunge him into a bottomless abyss. Retreat might keep him alive for a little while, but perhaps only postpone his death.
Mei Xia Ying was right. After betraying Mo Xiao Ran, there was no way back.
Should he risk everything to seek the one slender chance of surviving certain death, or run away and spend his remaining years hiding?
While he hesitated, the iron tower emitted strange clicking sounds, as though its machinery were catching. Soul power fell onto the tower and was absorbed, only to drift out again. Moments later it was drawn back inside, then released once more, forming a strange cycle.
Mei Xia Ying suddenly pointed to the place where it escaped. “Look here.”
The White Tiger King turned toward it. The spot was a dent Wang Yu had made while wearing the Purple-Gold Battle Armor. A portion of the soul power the tower had absorbed kept leaking from that very place.
Like discovering the loose end of a tangled skein, the White Tiger King suddenly saw what to do. Forgetting that a step forward meant falling off a cliff, he raised a hand and struck the dent with his palm.
* * *
Inside a dark guest room, a young woman’s muffled sobs echoed intermittently. No other voices could be heard nearby. With its tables, chairs, bed, and cabinets, the little room seemed an entire world unto itself.
She was alone in that world, keeping watch over a father who had already gone to another.
The girl was He You You, who had returned all the way from the city gate to search for him.
At first she had thought He Si Yu had left the city for Southern Yu, but after asking around, she realized he might still be inside. Then the city descended into chaos. After numerous inquiries, she finally learned of her father’s whereabouts from someone in the so-called firefighting brigade, only to discover he was already separated from the living by death.
He Si Yu lay on the bed without breathing, yet his cheeks were ruddy, and he looked so much like someone asleep that she could almost believe he might wake at any moment. She could not stop entertaining impossible hopes. Or perhaps, by this point, she simply had nowhere left to go.
But when the “father” on the bed really opened his eyes, she could not help screaming.
By the time she recovered, “He Si Yu” had already leaped past her and escaped through the window.
He You You rushed to the window and saw only a dark speck racing toward the tower.
After a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed the luggage on the table and ran after him. Whether the thing that had awakened was human or ghost, it had taken her father’s body. She could not let it wander off like that.
* * *
The White Tiger King bent his head and kept striking the tower. The first two blows produced little sensation, but after the third, his vision suddenly went black. A low buzzing seemed to sound inside his head, as though a heavy hammer had struck the depths of his soul.
Bracing one hand against the tower, he shook his head until his vision cleared a little. He was about to raise his palm again when Mu Kai Sen suddenly cried out in alarm. Oriole’s Cry, still held by Wang Yu, sprang free with a metallic ring and shot toward him.
The White Tiger King did not even see the sword. Instinct alone made him arch backward. Then he saw a face that absolutely should not have been here.
“He Si Yu” was staring at Mei Xia Ying.
They were separated by two or three zhang and neither moved, yet Mei Xia Ying’s face grew visibly paler. Some of the soul power leaking from the tower drifted through the air like dandelion fluff, gradually settling on his face.
One speck, two specks, three…
Every additional speck drained more color from Mei Xia Ying’s face.
The White Tiger King knew that “He Si Yu,” or rather Mo Xiao Ran inside his skin, was attacking Mei Xia Ying’s soul with soul power.
For members of the No-Return Sect, a battle between souls was a hundred times more perilous than fighting in the flesh. The White Tiger King, the General, and Zheng Jiao Jiao had all lost their bodies in battle before. But as long as the soul remained intact, whether one discarded the body altogether as Zheng Jiao Jiao had done or found another body to inhabit, as the White Tiger King and General had, one was not truly dead.
Once the soul was scattered and destroyed, though, everything really was over.
The thought made the White Tiger King hesitate all the more.
As though sensing his thoughts, Mo Xiao Ran turned his head slightly and looked his way.
The White Tiger King’s heart skipped a beat.
After all these years, Mo Xiao Ran remained the person the White Tiger King feared most among his fellow disciples. When he agreed to stab Mo Xiao Ran in the back, part of his motive had been to escape that shadow.
Unfortunately, he had failed yet again.
He recalled the assessment he had made of the other three years ago. In retrospect, two of his judgments had now come true. Only the General had not appeared, leaving the last one unconfirmed.
The absurdity was that, despite having seen through everything, he had lost control of himself and made the wrong choice at the crucial moment.
He looked at Mo Xiao Ran. “Will you swear upon your three hun souls that you will never kill me?”
“No,” Mo Xiao Ran answered coldly.
The White Tiger King sighed and turned, charging toward the tower’s summit.
Since Mo Xiao Ran’s soul was here inside He Si Yu’s body, his original body at the top of the tower ought to be controlling the formation eye on its own. Destroy that body, and he should be able to stop the tower completely, robbing Mo Xiao Ran of a crucial advantage in his bid for advancement.