Chapter 12

Chang'an left without another word.

The old beggar suddenly said, "Wait, wait! How can two legs outrun four?! The other day, a swordswoman's horse stepped on me, so she gave me the horse as compensation. It's a fine steed. I haven't had the heart to slaughter it for wine yet, so I'll let you have it!"

Chang'an stopped. The old beggar flashed into motion and slipped into the pine forest. Before long, he emerged leading a tall, pure-black horse. "Go on, hurry!" With that, he lay back down where he was, as though sleep had overtaken him and he was about to enjoy a fine nap.

Chang'an froze for a moment. "Why aren't you leaving? My horse alone would be enough for you to eat for more than ten days."

The old beggar said, "I'll lie here and see whether I can stop those chasing you. Myriad Flower Valley is still more than half a day away. Go quickly!"

Having said that, the old beggar closed his eyes.

Chang'an carried Yu Fu onto the horse and rode away.

The old beggar was a marvelous fellow. His deep loyalty needed no mention. In truth, he was a knight-errant—a strange knight-errant. He could not bear being thanked; otherwise, he would go mad and tear the thanker's mouth apart.

Night fell, starless and moonless. Sorrowful clouds shrouded the sky, and night rain came.

The black horse truly was a steed that could travel a thousand miles. Its stamina was inexhaustible as it carried Chang'an and Yu Fu all the way to Mohe City in Sanhe Commandery. As its name suggested, Sanhe Commandery naturally had three rivers. Three great rivers ran across its lands, earning the whole commandery its reputation as a water country. The Mohe River was one of them. Mohe City had been built along the Mohe River, a land of fish and rice, quite prosperous. Its city gates were never closed at night. Merchants traveling by land and water gathered here, making it a thoroughly mixed place as well.

It was already deep into the night. The entire city lay silent, with few pedestrians abroad and most shops long since closed.

The horse raced swiftly, but its rider was more desperate still.

Chang'an glanced at Yu Fu in his arms, his expression exceptionally grave.

Mohe City was still a hundred li from Myriad Flower Valley. Had it not been for this fine horse, he could never have reached this place so soon.

"Yu Fu, hold on. You'll be all right!"

Chang'an looked at Yu Fu's pale face. Her blackened lips and tightly closed eyes filled him with the panic and terror of falling into a nightmare.

Care bred confusion. Chang'an's heart could not calm for even a moment.

The night could no longer bring him peace.

The pitch-black night was a net slowly tightening around him, suffocating him and making his heart pound.

The more one treasured something, the more one feared losing it; the more one feared losing it, the more anxious one became. Yet at a time like this, he should have stayed calm, because anxiety was of no use whatsoever.

Neigh!

The black horse suddenly let out a terrified scream and reared up.

Chang'an was startled. He clutched Yu Fu tightly with one arm while repeatedly pulling the reins with the other, forcing the horse under control.

A chilling voice rang out. "Stay."

A shadowy figure appeared. A gray-haired old man slowly stepped out of the darkness.

Long street, night rain.

The raindrops were as fine as ox hair. Moisture curled through the darkness, strange, damp, and cold.

The old man wore a mask. The black mask gleamed with an eerie light, savage and twisted. It was not a human face, but a ghost face. Anyone who saw that face would think it belonged to a vicious ghost.

Chang'an leaped from the horse, gently laid Yu Fu by the roadside, then looked at the old man, his face turning exceedingly ugly.

"Ghost Face!"

Chang'an's voice was hoarse, and his heart sank.

The martial world held many existences as taboo as death itself. Wherever they appeared, blood would flow and people would die. Cloaked in evil and mystery, they cultivated martial arts meant solely for killing. They came and went like ghosts, harvesting lives. Anyone who made enemies of them or caught their attention had practically stumbled into a nightmare.

The Five Ghosts of Yin Mountain were renowned among such people.

They were assassins, and even more so, demons who slaughtered men.

Ghost Hand and Ghost Shadow of the Five Ghosts of Yin Mountain had both died because of him. Now Ghost Face, who had always appeared and vanished like a spirit, had finally made his move. And at this time, in this place, the hidden twists behind it were worth pondering.

Ghost Face advanced toward Chang'an step by step. Not a single drop of rain touched him. A veil of Qi constantly surrounded his body, blocking the rain. His loose black robes rustled, and every time his feet touched the ground, the earth trembled faintly. As Ghost Face walked slowly, he said, "That's right. I am Ghost Face. You deserve to die. You actually killed two of my brothers. The Five Ghosts of Yin Mountain were one body, yet now we are separated by heaven and man. Today, not only are you doomed to die, that woman will fall into the depths of hell as well. I'll save her, then sell her into a brothel, where a thousand men will ride her and ten thousand will sleep with her. Everything you care about, I will destroy piece by piece. Offending the Five Ghosts of Yin Mountain brings a fate beyond death. Death is merely a bargain..."

For a pure and kind woman, that truly was a torment crueler than death.

Chang'an's expression turned completely cold, his face filled with viciousness. Every word from Ghost Face had struck his reverse scale. He would never allow such things to happen. Even if he were a praying mantis trying to stop a chariot, he would still fight with everything he had.

At that moment, he was like a wounded lone wolf driven into a dead end. Other than risking his life, he had no choice.

Ning Family's Chang'an excelled at risking his life!

Ghost Face sneered repeatedly. Black streams of Qi surged from his body and twisted around him like venomous snakes, like ghostly claws. This was a superior Qi Gong technique—Yin Bone Python Qi, incomparably strange and wicked. Ghost Face had cultivated this Qi Gong to the point of perfection. Who knew how much Yin bone Killing Intent he had absorbed to possess such an aura? It was said that once Yin Bone Python Qi was cultivated to its peak, a person's face would become utterly distorted and hideous, no longer human, like a vengeful ghost. Their mind would constantly be filled with sinister thoughts until they fell into the demonic path. That was why Ghost Face always wore a mask. His true face must have been too horrifying to behold.

"Good! Good! Such heavy viciousness. You are perfect for dying by my hand and aiding my cultivation! I'm very pleased that you do not fear me. Let me kill you and absorb your Killing Intent and resentment."

Ghost Face suddenly stepped forward. His black robes snapped in the wind, and the endless fine rain abruptly swept up, shooting at Chang'an like thousands upon thousands of fine needles.

Chang'an felt his entire body go numb and stab with pain, as though he had already been pierced by a thousand holes and cast into hell.

Chang'an had already been poisoned, and his condition was dire. Moreover, his cultivation was shallow; the first layer of the Three Purity Nine Nether Marvelous Dharma Lotus Sutra had only barely entered the gate. He was no match for Ghost Face at all.

From this move alone, Chang'an felt pressure and terror unlike anything he had ever known.

Ghost Face had actually turned the rain itself into a weapon, defeating his enemy with a flick of his hand.

This was an exceedingly brilliant technique. It required profound cultivation: one had to explosively release true Qi and vibrate the raindrops into projectiles in an instant. Without Qi Gong cultivated to the point of perfection, one could easily damage one's own meridians instead and wound oneself.

Patches of dark purple spread across Chang'an's body. Blood seeped from beneath his skin, drenching him from head to toe. He could not stop trembling, yet his gaze was especially cold, even brimming with a determined madness.

Ghost Face stood before him, and Yu Fu was behind him.

He could not fall.

Ghost Face sneered. "Ning Family's Chang'an is nothing more than this—a fat pig, waiting to be slaughtered by me!"

In an instant, Ghost Face swept forward. His black robe soared behind him, like a bloodthirsty bat spreading its bloody wings as it pounced upon its prey.

Ghost Face was unbelievably fast.

Wherever he stepped, every stone slab on the ground shattered, yet strangely, not a sound was made.

There was only the shrieking wind.

Smack! Ghost Face seized Chang'an by the throat, locking his windpipe in one grip. Beneath the mask, Ghost Face's eyes glimmered with eerie light, like those of some bloodthirsty beast, filled with demonic intent.

"Die!"

Ghost Face's hand slowly tightened. Chang'an's face turned purple-red, and cracking sounds came from his neck.

Yet flames of madness blazed in Chang'an's eyes.

He would never abandon any chance to harm his enemy, even on the brink of death.

Chang'an suddenly thrust both hands forward, striking his palms toward Ghost Face's chest.

Ghost Face sneered, utterly unconcerned.

He had true Qi protecting his body. Beneath the surface of his flesh, true Qi formed a membrane that tightly guarded his vital foundation. Blades and swords could not pierce it, so how could Chang'an's palms harm him in the slightest?!

Chang'an struck with both palms, pouring all his strength into the blow, yet it was as though he had hit a slick loach. His force was immediately diverted away.

Ghost Face did not even sway.

But Ghost Face's expression changed, as though someone had suddenly kicked his balls to pieces, or a venomous snake had abruptly bitten him. His entire body rocked, and his eyes filled with terror.

"My true Qi!"

Ghost Face let out a hysterical cry of terror. He felt his Yin Bone Python Qi being sucked away by an irresistible force. In the blink of an eye, he had lost thirty years of cultivation; half a lifetime of accumulation had been destroyed in a single stroke.

When he looked at Chang'an again, a chill ran down his spine.

He saw a pair of eyes burning with fire. Ghost Face had roamed the martial world for nearly forty years and hunted countless curiosities, yet he had never seen anyone whose madness burned as intensely as flame.

This was not something any living creature under heaven should possess! No matter how violent one was, it was impossible for one's fury to burn so fiercely.

Terror welled up within him, and his heart sank. A chill enveloped his entire body. In the mind of someone as cruel and savage as Ghost Face, only two words remained in horror—demon.

Ghost Face's other hand suddenly struck out. True Qi covered his palm, black and grim like a ghost claw as it shot toward Chang'an's head, intending to kill him in a single blow.

He could no longer imagine what would happen if, after just a little longer, all his true Qi and his lifetime of cultivation were reduced to nothing. That would be an unimaginably terrifying consequence.

Without cultivation, the Five Ghosts of Yin Mountain would be worse than stray dogs. Only death awaited them.

But a jade-colored sword suddenly slashed out from the side, cutting into Ghost Face's wrist.

That sword actually cut through Ghost Face's true Qi membrane and severed his wrist with a single stroke.

"The Jade Purity Sword?!"

Ghost Face screamed again. Half the bone in his wrist had been cut through, and blood poured out like a fountain.

The Jade Purity Sword was said to have been Daoist Jade Purity's lifelong personal sword. It was incomparably sharp and specialized in breaking protective true Qi. To those who cultivated Qi Gong, it was a sword of nightmares. After Daoist Jade Purity withdrew from the world, the sword drifted into the martial world and vanished without a trace. It had briefly appeared decades ago, a fleeting glimpse like a startled swan, before disappearing once more.

At this moment, having seen the divine sword with his own eyes and been wounded by it, Ghost Face nearly had his liver and gallbladder shattered from fright.

At this juncture, the only word filling his heart was "regret."

He regretted being so arrogant.

In an instant, Ghost Face drew back his clawed hand, cried out in pain, and tried to retreat. But the Jade Purity Sword was crafty and ruthless, like an immortal enraged. Every thrust targeted a vital point.