Chapter 40: Within the Ruins (Part 1)
Sword cultivators were known for their fearsome offensive power, and the full force of a Foundation Establishment sword strike was something even the late-Foundation Black Steward had to treat with caution.
He flicked his sleeve, summoning a twisting river of blood to entangle the sword light but he had miscalculated. The sword light sliced through the blood river and smashed directly into his protective shield.
“Urgh…”
A muffled grunt escaped the Black Steward’s lips, and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, he’d been slightly wounded.
As he slowly wiped away the blood, his rage surged to its peak. He was done playing games.
Now, he wanted nothing more than to slaughter them all.
“Blood Sea Overwhelms the Sky!”
With a sweeping motion of his arms, a vast sea of blood surged into existence and swept toward Song Changsheng and the others.
But by this time, they had already retreated into the Mystic Yang Skysteel Array. Only two unfortunate ones who had lagged behind were swallowed up by the torrent of blood.
They barely struggled before dissolving entirely into the bloody sea.
As the tide continued forward, it collided with a faint light barrier, one that stopped its momentum cold.
Where the putrid blood met the shield, sizzling noises rang out continuously.
“What? The Mystic Yang Skysteel Array?!” the Black Steward’s expression changed. “Wasn’t that formation already broken?”
Inside, Zhu Yiqun and the others were just as stunned. They stared at the reactivated formation, their gazes slowly converging on one man, Song Changsheng.
Meeting their eyes, Song Changsheng calmly explained,
“I managed to seize control of the formation. Just in case something like this happened.”
The group exchanged looks. Zhu Yiqun was the first to speak:
“Well, it's a good thing you did. Otherwise, we’d likely be dead.”
Zhuang Yuechan nodded in agreement.
“We should thank Fellow Daoist Song for leaving us this escape route. I’ve already sent word to my elders for help. As long as we hold out a bit longer, they’ll come.”
“This formation is pure yang and fiercely aggressive, a renowned demon-suppressing array. That Foundation Establishment Blood Demon may be strong, but breaking this array won’t be easy. We can use this time to properly explore the ruins.”
Song Changsheng wasn’t surprised by their reactions. He probably would have responded the same way, so he simply ignored it and turned toward the cave ahead.
Their group had started with more than a dozen but now, only four remained: Zhu Yiqun, Zhuang Yuechan, Xu Yunhe, and Song Changsheng himself.
All this… just for that cave.
The entrance was nestled beneath a small vine-covered hill. A tunnel stretched deep into the mountain, dark and silent.
Song Changsheng walked at the front, cradling his treasure gourd. Zhu Yiqun supported the heavily injured Xu Yunhe, while Zhuang Yuechan followed at the rear with her zither in hand.
The corridor was long and quiet. Without the large formation outside, no one would believe a Foundation Establishment cultivator’s dwelling lay within.
At the end of the tunnel stood a green-stone gate, blocking their path.
Song Changsheng cautiously stepped forward and examined it. He found a formation inscribed on the stone door but strangely, part of it was missing.
Even more odd, the formation itself wasn’t high-level. But due to the formation master’s deep mastery of formation arts, even a simple formation had been made incredibly subtle and intricate.
“Changsheng, what’s the situation?” Zhu Yiqun asked quietly.
“There’s a formation on the door. It’s missing a section. We need to repair it to open the gate.”
“Can you do it?”
Song Changsheng frowned slightly, then nodded.
“I’ll give it a try.”
With that, he sat cross-legged before the stone gate and began his work.
Meanwhile, Zhu Yiqun finally had a chance to tend to Xu Yunhe’s wounds. His right arm had been severed at the shoulder, and the wound was tainted with the Blood Demon cult’s signature crimson demonic aura. If left untreated, it would soon claim his life.
Zhu Yiqun pulled out a white jade bottle from his spatial pouch, poured out a round, milky-white pill, and held it near Xu Yunhe’s mouth.
“This will help you heal. Take it.”
But Xu Yunhe, his face ghostly pale from blood loss, stared blankly at the pill.
“Fellow Daoist Zhu, don’t waste your precious medicine on me. My path ends here. Let me die in peace.”
His voice was soaked in despair, like a withered tree resigned to rot in a stagnant swamp.
To a sword cultivator, the sword was everything. Now that he had lost the arm that held his blade, what purpose was there in living?
Zhu Yiqun’s expression darkened with fury. He grabbed Xu Yunhe by the collar and growled, keeping his voice low:
“What the hell are you saying? So you lost your right arm, can’t you train with your left?
You’re still young! Even if you have to start over, so what? We’ve already lost so many today. Those of us still breathing have to live on!”
Xu Yunhe gave a bitter smile, eyes deadened.
“I’m just a wandering cultivator. Reaching Foundation Establishment was already nearly impossible.
Now, with my body crippled and meridians damaged, my odds are close to zero. Why drag on in misery? I might as well die.”
Zhu Yiqun fell silent. For ordinary cultivators, reaching Foundation Establishment had maybe a 10% chance. Even for talented ones, the odds were just 30%.
Xu Yunhe’s aptitude was average at best, his chances were slim even before his injury. Now, it was nearly hopeless.
Physically and mentally crushed, he had lost the will to keep going.
Just then, Song Changsheng stood up from the formation and said coldly:
“A swordsman must be willing to snap before they bend. No matter how tough the road ahead, one must face it head-on, unyielding.
To speak of death at the first setback, do you deserve to wield a blade? Do you even qualify to be called a sword cultivator?
Even if you must die, let it be on the path forward, not like some coward in this godforsaken place.”
“I…”
Xu Yunhe’s heart trembled. A surge of emotion rose within him.
That’s right, he was a sword cultivator. No matter how tough the road, he should cut through it with a single strike. That’s the true way of the sword.
“Fellow Daoist Song’s words struck me like a bolt of lightning. You’re right. Even if I die, it shouldn’t be here.”
Light returned to Xu Yunhe’s eyes. He raised his left arm with difficulty and took the pill from Zhu Yiqun’s hand. As the fragrant medicine dissolved into warmth spreading through his body, his pallor began to fade.
Zhuang Yuechan looked at Song Changsheng with quiet astonishment. This guy was always full of surprises.
“Changsheng, is the formation solved?” Zhu Yiqun asked, looking toward the green-stone gate.
“Yes,” Song Changsheng replied. “But I suspect more formations lie beyond. So when we go in, follow exactly where I step.”
With a wave of his hand, the stone door rumbled open.
At last, the inner sanctum of the cave revealed itself to them…
(Chapter End)