Chapter 73

Chapter 73

Zhuang Fei Yu was just passing by Xuan Nu Peak and stopped to have a drink and chat with Zhong Yi Xiao, catching up before leaving.

After all, they were both in difficult situations now, one jilted and the other deceived in both heart and body.

At dusk, Zhong Yi Xiao and Zhuang Fei Yu parted ways.

Zhuang Fei Yu advised him not to dwell on the unhappy past, then left the tavern alone with his sword, continuing his carefree life.

However, Zhong Yi Xiao was burdened with heavy thoughts. After leaving the tavern, his steps unconsciously took him towards the mountain, but his pace was slow. He was hesitant and filled with regret, guilt, and self-blame, tearing his heart apart as he wandered aimlessly, constantly thinking—

If he returned to Xuan Nu Peak, his master expected him to take on the heavy responsibilities of the Xian Xia sect, even teaching him the sect's ultimate skill, Hua Xu Palm. He feared he might never see Mo Jiao again.

But he didn't want to go back now; he wanted to find Mo Jiao, even if just to see him one last time, yet he had no idea where to start looking. The entire martial arts world had been turned upside down, but no one could find him.

Zhong Yi Xiao didn't know where to go, but as he walked, he found himself at the foot of Xuan Nu Peak.

Winter arrives early on Xuan Nu Peak, and even though it was only the end of autumn, the foot of the mountain was already covered with frost and snow, and the trees were frosted white.

Zhong Yi Xiao paused, looking at the bamboo forest by the snowy woods, and suddenly became lost in thought.

Xuan Nu Peak is steep and the terrain complex, with many formations; without knowing the mountain's geography, it would take half a day to ascend.

Months ago, Zhong Yi Xiao had escorted a recovered He Yun Shi Tai back to Xuan Nu Peak, accompanied by a child he had just met.

At that time, he naively thought he had offended someone and needed to take responsibility, which now seems laughable.

But as night fell on Xuan Nu Peak, where male guests were not allowed to stay, he had no choice but to rest near the bamboo forest with the child, as it was not safe to walk the mountain paths at night.

This place, where he had lived for nearly ten years, became more memorable to him because of Mo Jiao than anything else.

Zhong Yi Xiao can no longer tell if Mo Jiao ever truly liked him.

There were too many lies, to the point where even Mo Jiao almost couldn't keep up with them; he wonders why he ever believed him.

Zhong Yi Xiao feels as if he had been under a spell at the beginning.

Now, still worrying about whether Mo Jiao is dead or alive, Zhong Yi Xiao is somewhat resentful but cannot hide his regret and anxiety.

While Zhong Yi Xiao was lost in thought, a sword shadow suddenly lunged at him from behind, aiming straight for him. Just at the moment it was about to strike, a small stone from nowhere hit the blade, producing a clear "ding" sound.

Shocked, Zhong Yi Xiao turned around in an instant, fortunately, the sword was deflected, and he was able to dodge in time.

After dodging the sword, Zhong Yi Xiao realized that a group of masked men in black had surrounded him, clearly with ill intentions.

At the foot of Xuan Nu Peak, someone dared to attempt an assassination on the direct disciple of the Xuan Nu Peak's master!

Zhong Yi Xiao quickly drew his soft sword to confront the assassins, but they were too many and their martial arts skills were not inferior to his. However, they did not seem intent on killing him, but rather capturing him.

Zhong Yi Xiao couldn't guess who wanted to capture him, but as long as these people had no intention to kill, he saw a chance to escape.

The men in black did not kill him, but they aimed for his painful spots.

In a moment, Zhong Yi Xiao was injured, with bloodstains winding across his white clothing, the worst being a slash on his arm that nearly reached the bone.

Seeing blood, the men in black became even more aggressive.

Zhong Yi Xiao knew that these people were so eager to act because they wanted to finish the job quickly and wouldn't tangle with him for too long. But with his right hand injured and unable to hold his sword steadily, how could he escape?

Holding onto a sliver of hope, Zhong Yi Xiao sought to delay some time by urgently asking the black-clothed men, "Who exactly are you..."

Before he could finish, a new wound was added to his arm. Zhong Yi Xiao gasped for air, and as his grip loosened, the soft sword fell, with droplets of blood pattering down onto the snow, silently blooming into eerie blood flowers.

One of the black-clothed men sneered disdainfully, "The chief disciple of Xianxia Sect, is just this."

Zhong Yi Xiao's complexion grew even more unsightly, half from the pain and half from anger.

Another black-clothed man said, "That old Daoist is very astute. Stop dawdling and just grab him."

The others agreed and then approached Zhong Yi Xiao with weapons in hand.

Weaponless, Zhong Yi Xiao stumbled backward a few steps, dragging a long arc of blood across the pristine white snow. With one arm almost numb from pain, he thought to himself that it was over, his martial skills were too poor to even defeat these men, and he deserved to be killed wandering the martial world...

But before he could wallow in self-pity, one of the approaching black-clothed men suddenly halted. A "slash" sound of tearing fabric and flesh rang out, and the man fell, a long, bone-deep sword mark on his back, instantly spattering blood three feet away.

The others looked behind the fallen man, fear suddenly filling their eyes.

"Shang Xuan!"

The leader of the black-clothed men was visibly shocked, then furiously said, "You dare kill my men!"

The newcomer was Shang Xuan, clad in dark attire, his expressionless face watching Zhong Yi Xiao. Noticing Zhong Yi Xiao's startled recognition, Shang Xuan's gaze softened slightly as he acknowledged the connection.

Satisfied, Shang Xuan slowly lifted his eyes, his icy gaze sweeping across the black-clothed men before settling on the leader, his broadsword still dripping with blood.

"Hall Master Luo."

Shang Xuan spoke, his voice extremely cold, revealing the identity of the newcomers to Zhong Yi Xiao.

So, these were people from the demonic sect? Why were they after him?

Shang Xuan had no intention of explaining, his cold gaze filled with hostility. He raised his hand, the sword, bathed in blood, pointing directly at Hall Master Luo.

"Traitors to the sect leader, die!"

Hall Master Luo and his men were evidently terrified of Shang Xuan, the sect's most formidable enforcer, known for his ruthlessness.

Hall Master Luo's legs seemed to give out under the invisible pressure; he didn't want to oppose Shang Xuan, but under Qin Yu's orders, he had to capture Zhong Yi Xiao today or lose the chance once Zhong Yi Xiao ascended the mountain, protected by the complex formations of Xuan Nu Peak and guarded by Master He Yun.

But it was his moment of hesitation that Shang Xuan seized to act, slicing through the neck of one of his men.

Blood sprayed, staining the snow, while the warm liquid splashed onto Hall Master Luo's lashes, coloring one of his eyes red.

Hall Master Luo cried out, "Shang Xuan! You can't kill me, I..."

It was too late for Hall Master Luo to say anything more. Clearly no match for Shang Xuan, his sword hadn't even been raised to defend when Shang Xuan's blade had already pierced his chest, killing him instantly. His eyes remained wide open in death as his weapon clattered to the ground, and his body stiffly fell backward.

The others, shocked by this display, began to fight for their survival.

Then, Zhong Yi Xiao witnessed Shang Xuan single-handedly kill all the assailants within moments, his methods both efficient and brutal, leaving seven bodies strewn across the blood-soaked snow, a grisly sight.

This was Zhong Yi Xiao's first real encounter with the ferocity of those from the demonic sect, starkly contrasting with his perceptions of the demonic sect leader Mo Jiao, leaving him stunned.

Then, he saw Shang Lao wiping the blood off his broadsword on the deceased black-clothed person's attire before slowly turning to look at him.

Those were eyes as cold as glaciers, exuding a bone-chilling eeriness. Upon seeing Zhong Yixiao, Shang Lao's murderous aura intensified.

Instinctively stepping back, Zhong Yixiao stumbled over his dropped soft sword, slowly regaining his senses.

Despite having killed so many, with utterly ruthless moves that left the ground soaked in bright red blood, Shang Lao, who had intentionally frightened Zhong Yixiao, bore not a single drop of blood on him. And now, he was dragging his long broadsword, steadily advancing towards Zhong Yixiao.

The broadsword carved a deep furrow in the snow, prompting Zhong Yixiao to retreat further.

Shang Lao's gaze was terrifying, coupled with an aura of lethality, reminiscent of a demon risen from hell, sending shivers down Zhong Yixiao's spine.

The murderous intent in Shang Lao's eyes deepened, closing within five steps of Zhong Yixiao.

Zhong Yixiao's lips parted, unsure of what to say, aware that this man was under Mo Jiao's command, yet his presence and demeanor seemed intent on killing him. Could it be...

A dreadful thought struck Zhong Yixiao, fearing Mo Jiao had died because of him, and now his subordinate had come seeking vengeance.

This speculation threw him into sudden turmoil, disrupting his breath, tightening his throat, and bringing tears to his eyes. He feared not his own death, but the possibility of Mo Jiao's...

His involuntary retreat caused him to trip over a corpse, falling to the ground with a low cry.

Shang Lao had already reached him.

Zhong Yixiao watched as Shang Heng raised his broadsword, still smeared with traces of blood, seemingly ready to strike him. But at that moment, a clear, calm, yet distinctly young voice cut through the air—

"Shang Heng, stop."

Upon hearing this, both Shang Lao and Zhong Yixiao showed surprised expressions.

The former frowned with reluctance, while the latter was dumbstruck, his lips curving into a relieved smile as he instinctively turned to locate the source of the voice.

Before the bamboo forest stood a small child in white, masked, and looking about seven years old, diminutive but with exceptionally cold eyes, exuding a chill even colder than ice and snow, with a splendid peacock feather embroidered on his garment hem.

The moment Zhong Yixiao saw the child, he couldn't suppress a choked, faint gasp, his eyes suddenly moistening, yet he also sighed in relief, the tight pain in his heart easing, grateful.

Mo Jiao hadn't died; it was good that he was still alive...

Nearly moved to tears, he quickly blinked away the discomfort in his eyes, not wanting the trickster to see his worried heart, yet unable to stop gazing at him.

Zhong Yixiao noticed he had become much thinner, thinking bitterly that he should have seen the signs earlier. Some words might be false, but they always contain a grain of truth; this person might truly not have much time left.

With only half a year left for the son gu, and over a month already gone, it meant that if the gu couldn't be removed, this person had less than five months to live.

After a moment of eye contact between Shang Lao and Mo Jiao, the former sheathed his broadsword, giving Zhong Yixiao a warning glance before striding towards his lord.

Slowly coming back to himself, Zhong Yixiao managed to feign an adversarial demeanor as he stood up. Mo Jiao was standing afar, silently watching him without uttering a word, yet his gaze was enough to make the embarrassed Zhong Yixiao flush with heat, his heart trembling.

Was it so hard for Mo Jiao, this trickster, to give him an explanation?

Simply admitting he had been deceiving him all along would have let him give up hope, but Mo Jiao said nothing, dismissing his subordinate who wanted to kill him yet not approaching...

Zhong Yixiao wanted to tell him to stop looking; standing there, he didn't dare to lift his head, regretting drugging him and more concerned about whether Mo Jiao had ever truly liked him.

Zhong Yixiao longed for an answer, yet feared knowing it.

Mo Jiao remained silent, his frown deepening as he observed the numerous wounds on Zhong Yixiao. Shang Lao offered no explanation, but it seemed he really had intended to kill Zhong Yixiao, making Mo Jiao find the crimson wounds even more unsightly.

Yet, seeing Zhong Yixiao's persistent avoidance, his cold, clear eyes narrowed slightly in hidden irritation, choosing to turn away and leave without revealing his feelings.

Not another word was spoken from beginning to end.

Elder Shang tidied the hem of his robe, removing a spot of blood and dirt, and followed Mo Jiao closely.

The mountain wind blew, shaking off a tree's worth of broken snow, some of which landed on Zhong Yixiao's neck, making him shiver all over. When he looked up again, he saw the two figures, one tall and one short, walking down the mountain.

He could only stand there, watching their backs as they gradually moved away.

Mo Jiao had left again, just like the last time, but this time he didn't try to hold him back, and Zhong Yixiao indeed couldn't let go of the Xianxia Sect. He always remembered his master's teachings, that he was a disciple of a righteous sect and shouldn't associate with people from the demonic cults.

Moments later, Xiao retracted his complex gaze, pursed his lips tightly, picked up his soft sword, and covered the bleeding wound on his arm, stumbling up the mountain with a solitary figure.

Going in the opposite direction from Mo Jiao.