The Killing

Many years earlier, when Gu Shenwei and He Nu had decided to cultivate the Death Sutra as teenagers, every sparring session had ended in a fight to the death. One of them would have to kill while the other watched from the shadows, then described what they had felt, so they could improve together.

As their swordsmanship grew, the rift between them widened. Even that little bit of mutual improvement became superfluous.

So in Gu Shenwei and He Nu's eyes, the Death Sutra was a solitary art. Even the most ordinary teamwork got in the way, let alone Old Man Mu's so-called "saber-and-sword unity."

When Gu Shenwei thrust his saber at Luo Qibai, he had no intention of "helping" He Nu. He simply thought Luo Qibai had the strongest swordsmanship and posed the greatest threat. Given the chance, he deserved to be the highest-priority target. The two of them had attacked at the same time before, but they had never joined forces.

It was that one glance exchanged with He Nu that changed his state of mind—and his saber technique.

Indifference was a thick cocoon, blocking the gaze of the world while opening itself to kindred spirits. Gu Shenwei could feel He Nu's blazing hatred.

Yao Nu's death, love gone awry, conflicting interests, and differences in their martial arts—all these were sources of hatred. Somehow, they fused in a strange way, making that hatred burn even hotter. And unlike any other, this hatred carried a hard-to-describe delight.

That delight became the thread binding the two of them together.

Gu Shenwei's hatred was roused. All these years, he had been like a diligent craftsman, tirelessly carving and refining his crude hatred until it slowly took on a gentler, more elegant shape.

But He Nu made him realize that deep inside that