The Man in White

The great rift was broad, as though an axe had cleaved through the void. If not for the golden light shining upon it, Ning Chen and Little White Horse probably would not have found it even if they searched for a lifetime.

This damned world always had some damned things that people simply could not understand. For instance, innate realms. Or paper that could glow by itself.

Ning Chen felt that his original worldview was like a mirror dropped onto the ground, shattered beyond all repair.

Entering the rift, man and horse traveled onward in silence. The path out lay beneath their feet, yet it still felt somewhat unreal.

It turned out he still could not completely accept everything that had happened before.

The path through the rift came to an end, and in a daze, they found themselves upon a snowfield.

Little White Horse's first move was to kick up its hooves, cast a flirtatious glance, then plunge headfirst into the snow and start devouring it wildly.

Ning Chen shot it a contemptuous look. What an uncultured country bumpkin who had never seen the world.

The next moment, Ning Chen gently scooped up a handful of snow and stuffed it into his mouth, crunching through the icy crystals...

Refreshing!

Man and horse lifted their heads blissfully, their faces full of happiness.

Their days in the Underworld Netherworld had truly been hell. There had been nothing to eat or drink—not even snow to eat. Now, even a mouthful of snow felt like happiness.

The burning sensation in his throat eased considerably. Ning Chen tossed aside the snow in his hand and saw Little White Horse still eating madly. His brows furrowed, and he smacked its raised backside with a slap, scolding,

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Eating like that, it would eat itself to death. Everything had to be done in moderation. Their bodies were still weak and could not withstand such torment.

"Snort."

Little White Horse glanced at him, backed away two steps, and continued eating as it pleased.

Ning Chen was furious and was just about to lose his temper when he suddenly saw that all the snow where Little White Horse had been standing had already melted. His expression froze.

Just what was that bead the fellow had swallowed? So many days had passed, yet it was still having such a huge effect.

Ning Chen was worried, but seeing how happily Little White Horse was eating, he stopped trying to stop it.

"Wait here. Don't run around."

As his words fell, Ning Chen turned his wheelchair and headed into the distance.

Not long afterward, Ning Chen returned with a roe deer in hand. It was not large, but it was enough for one man and one horse to have a meal.

He did not know whether Little White Horse ate meat, but at this point, even if it did not want to, it had to.

The tinderbox had gone out, and there was no dead wood nearby. Starting a fire was impossible. His cultivation had not reached the level of the Divine Son, who could stir the changes of heaven and earth. He could not create fire from thin air.

After simply butchering the roe deer, Ning Chen suppressed his nausea and stuffed a slice of meat into his mouth. The stench rushed into his nose, and his stomach, empty for many days, cramped violently and sent sour bile surging up.

But he knew that if he did not eat, he would die. His body could no longer endure the journey out of this snowfield.

After carelessly stuffing two slices of meat into his own mouth, Ning Chen cut off another slice and pushed it into Little White Horse's mouth.

"Snort."

Little White Horse did not want to eat it and spat it out at once.

"Eat it."

Ning Chen's face darkened as he barked.

Seeing its master angry, Little White Horse let out a wronged whimper, picked up the raw meat from the snow, and began eating it with difficulty.

Ning Chen felt that his words had been too harsh. He sighed softly, stroked Little White Horse's head, and said quietly, "Bear with it. As long as we can survive, a little suffering is worth it."

Little White Horse rubbed its head against Ning Chen's chest, looking utterly aggrieved.

"Enough. Stop dawdling like some woman and eat already."

Ning Chen shoved Little White Horse away and said impatiently.

The untreated raw meat reeked heavily and dripped with fresh blood. Little White Horse ate with difficulty, while Ning Chen ate in disgust. Out on the wilderness, man and horse took bite after bite, watching each other closely. Neither was willing to lose out, each afraid the other would eat one bite less.

Roe deer on the snowfield were all very small. Once the organs and hide had been removed, little meat remained. Ning Chen looked at the final piece, stuffed it into Little White Horse's mouth, then washed his hands with the snow on the ground and said flatly, "Let's go."

Little White Horse painfully swallowed the last bite of meat, then obediently started forward, walking while constantly fighting the urge to vomit.

The heavy snow had finally stopped, but the sun had yet to come out. This snowstorm had been nothing short of a disaster. Especially in the north, everywhere was a vast, boundless white.

Ning Chen did not know where he had gone, nor could he even tell the direction. Every part of the snowfield looked the same; east, south, west, and north were impossible to distinguish.

Traveling through snow easily caused snow blindness, so every so often, Ning Chen would cover Little White Horse's eyes. Then he would close his own eyes as well and proceed by feeling. In any case, neither of them knew the direction, so they only needed to keep walking.

However, he had not expected that when a person's luck turned foul, even drinking cold water could crack their teeth.

Just as Ning Chen and Little White Horse saw hope ahead—a city looming indistinctly in the distance—a man in white approached from the side not far away.

The man in white was clearly stunned as well when he saw the man and horse before him. Amid this boundless snowfield, such a combination was far too distinctive, impossible to miss.

There was a saying: wear through iron shoes searching everywhere, only to find it without the slightest effort.

Ning Chen sensed killing intent from the man. His brows creased slightly, but before he could think further, a frigid sword light came slashing toward his face.

Bang!

Sword fingers met steel, sending up a cascade of snowflakes. The man's sword was so fast that destruction came in the blink of an eye. In an instant, the blade was before him, its wind pressing against his face.

Ning Chen pinned the sword blade with two fingers of his left hand, then twisted it with the motion. The sword edge turned aside, its force dispersed into the formless air.

At the same moment, the Ink Sword left its sheath. Half-curled cold light surged forth, Frost Bloom rippling as a sword stroke blinded the eye.

The man's expression did not change. He extended his left hand and seized the Ink Sword. Sparks flew everywhere; he was wearing gloves forged from raw iron.

Ning Chen narrowed his eyes, adding another thirty percent of force to the Ink Sword. With a bang, he forcibly cut a gash half a finger deep into the iron glove.

Threads of blood flowed down the Ink Sword's edge. The man in white had drawn blood for the first time. He twisted the hand holding his sword, and the blade split apart. A sword emerged from within the sword, stabbing toward Ning Chen's heart.

"Shameless!"

Ning Chen cursed furiously, though he did not reflect on whether he himself had once been even more shameless.

A sword hidden within a sword was impossible to guard against. Yet Ning Chen had encountered situations even more perilous than this, so he moved.

Instead of retreating, the wheelchair advanced. In the instant he turned, the Ink Sword slashed back like Death's scythe, carving a streak of black radiance through the air.

The Ink Sword was fast, and the move was viciously tricky, but Ning Chen's brows faintly furrowed.

He felt himself falling short of his strength. This sword strike was slow.

At the very least, far slower than when he had faced the headless Underworld Cavalry.

Rip!

Cloth tore apart, and a spray of blood burst forth. The man in white retreated three steps in succession, avoiding that fatal sword.

Ning Chen was irritable and dissatisfied. His body was slower than before, and the wheelchair beneath him could not keep up either.

This was not difficult to understand. Illusion and reality were ultimately different. How could one so easily turn illusory moves into reality?

The man in white was in no better mood. He discovered that his Fifth-Rank martial cultivation could not completely suppress the youth before him. In their clash of moves, he was even faintly at a disadvantage.

Sitting in his wheelchair, Ning Chen slightly narrowed his eyes to conceal his thoughts. From their brief exchange just now, he could also tell that this man in white was not as highly cultivated as that old eunuch. Only the longsword in his hand was somewhat troublesome.

He had to thank the torment within the illusion of Netherworld Hell. Otherwise, he would still be that idiot from before, possessing cultivation yet unable to use it.

In the end, martial arts were practiced for fighting. Talk of strengthening the body was bullshit.

When he had learned the sword from Sword Enshrined, the old man had once said that a sword existed to kill people, and had no other use besides.

And the person holding a sword was a swordsman—the one who held a sword to kill.

Of course, there were not many people in this world worthy of being called swordsmen. Sword Enshrined said he himself could at most count as half of one. By that measure, neither Ning Chen nor the man in white before him counted even as half.

Ning Chen began to feel nauseated. Perhaps it was from the raw meat he had eaten earlier. The snowlight also stung his eyes a little. This was truly not a good place to fight.

The man in white looked at the youth before him, and in the blink of an eye, his longsword came for his life once more.

At the instant he drew his sword, he was still wondering why this youth seemed so absent-minded.

Ning Chen came back to his senses. The Ink Sword lay across his front, blocking the blade before his throat. Then he tilted his head, and the Ink Sword slid along the longsword. In that instant of turning, blood splashed and a severed arm spun through the air.

Looking at the blood raining down from the sky, Ning Chen sighed softly. Severing people's arms was still what he was best at, because arms were closest to him.

The next moment, the wheelchair turned and the Ink Sword turned again. Black light flashed past—blood at the throat meant death.

The man in white watched helplessly as he fell. His body still held its earlier posture as it crashed into the snow, never to rise again.

"Cough, cough."

Ning Chen coughed violently several times. A trace of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth. He impatiently wiped it away, then bent down and casually searched the man in white for a moment. Rising, he patted Little White Horse's backside and said, "Come on, follow your master into the city."

"Snort."

Little White Horse answered and followed beside the wheelchair, slowly heading toward the ancient city in the distance.

The ancient city was truly far away. By the time the two fellows reached it, the sky was dark beyond dark.

The inns along the streets were already preparing to close, but Ning Chen forcibly made one remain open. He was starving, and his brother Little White Horse was starving too.

The innkeeper was initially very impatient. But when he saw the fist-sized silver ingot in the youth's hand, his face immediately changed from cloudy to clear. He practically wanted to worship the youth as an ancestor.

Ning Chen casually cast Little White Horse a look, signaling, Well? Following me is not so bad, is it?

Little White Horse lowered its head and meekly responded with a proper attitude, greatly satisfying Ning Chen.

"What would you like to eat, young master?" the innkeeper asked with a fawning smile.

Ning Chen glanced at the menu hanging in the hall, then pointed at the dishes one by one, looking every inch the nouveau riche. "Other than these few, bring one of everything else. No, two portions."

Hearing this, the innkeeper's smile grew even brighter. Pretending concern, he asked, "Young master, would you like one portion packed to take away?"

"No. That portion is for it."

Ning Chen pointed at Little White Horse by the entrance, sounding rather impatient.

"Young master wants this horse to come inside and eat too?" the innkeeper asked in surprise.

"Is there a problem?" Ning Chen grew even more impatient. What the hell was he dawdling for? He was about to starve to death.

"This... goes against the rules."

The innkeeper looked troubled. This was a place for people to eat. How could he let a beast inside?

Ning Chen tossed the silver ingot in his hand over and said, "This is yours."

"Hehe, your words are the rules."

The innkeeper beamed with joy. Without another word, he turned and headed straight for the kitchen.

Before the dishes even arrived, the two starving ghosts seized the tea in the hall and drank pot after pot. By the time Ning Chen had nearly lost his temper from waiting, the dishes were finally served.

The chef had been dragged out from under his blankets by the innkeeper. Still dazed, his performance was somewhat off, but that could not stop the two fellows, whose eyes were gleaming as they began to gorge themselves madly.

Because there were too few hands, the innkeeper was helping in the kitchen as well. After much difficulty, he finally freed himself and prepared to check the front hall. The moment he stepped inside, he was instantly stunned by the man and horse's momentum of swallowing rivers and mountains.

The hall was a complete mess, empty plates strewn everywhere. There was almost nowhere to set foot around the man and horse. Beside them, the young waiter serving dishes had gone pale. In all his life, this was the first time he had seen such a terrifying sight.

Naturally, Ning Chen and Little White Horse had no idea that their table manners had cast such a huge psychological shadow over others. The two fellows' mental fortitude and thick skin surpassed their era; they simply did not care what anyone thought.

Thus, more and more people in the front hall were frightened stiff, standing there in a daze as they watched the bizarre pair of man and horse before them...