There was not a single cloud on the horizon, and sparse stars hung in the night sky.
The old man waited for the next rain to wash away the dust kicked up by the collapsed houses on both sides of the long street.
He waited for the rain to wash the bloodstains from his face, the dust from his body, and the demonic aura in the air that made him want to vomit.
He liked a clean world.
He liked killing people freely and thoroughly in a clean world.
No choking dust, no sickening stench of blood—only sword light and moonlight, only life and death.
He wanted to cut down the monster before him with a single stroke—the freak who was clearly blind, yet still refused to let go.
But he did not get his wish.
Because his opponent was not injured.
That damned woman, that female demon who had crawled out of Abyssless City, had taken one of his sword strikes without suffering the slightest harm.
Her face was merely a little paler, her breathing merely a little more hurried.
Yet she still stood there, still blocking the way between him and Du Yulin, still staring at him with those slightly slit pupils like a mother beast guarding her territory.
Instead, it was him.
Even after changing clothes, even after using his magic power to mend his previous wounds, the bloodstains remained.
Those bloodstains were not on his skin, but carved into his bones and embedded in his meridians.
The power of that sword strike was far too bizarre. It was not merely physical damage, but a deeper, more fundamental destruction.
It was like a venomous snake boring into his body, coiling within his meridians and constantly devouring his power.
He could feel his cultivation leaking away bit by