"How are you even worse than me!" the monk said scornfully.
The Daoist rose, clutching his chest. "I don't have a Buddhist Golden Body."
The black-robed man watched their bickering with mocking amusement, as though enjoying a fine show, utterly unconcerned that all his own people were dead.
Bodies littered the ground, lives strewn across it... yet in his eyes, they seemed no more than a heap of junk.
"What do we do? The two of us can't beat him! We can't escape, either!" the monk asked.
The Daoist sighed. "Didn't your elders give you any trump cards to save your life?"
The monk nodded. "They did."
"Then why aren't you using them?" the Daoist asked.
"I used them all up ages ago!"
The Daoist was speechless!
"What about you?" the monk asked.
"I've used mine up too!" the Daoist admitted.
The black-robed man glanced around, then walked toward them, sword in hand.
"I've had enough fun. Since you're here, you might as well serve some purpose!"
Zhixuan and Mude wore bitter expressions. Neither had imagined they would stumble into such a rotten mess!
Sadly, no one had carried word of what happened here to the outside world. Two more wronged souls would join those littering the ground.
They exchanged a glance, bitterness filling their mouths.
"What a shame... I haven't even melted down your Golden Alms Bowl to buy wine yet!" The Daoist gazed longingly at the monk's chest.
"I knew you were always scheming to get my Golden Alms Bowl!" The monk reached into his robes and took out the Golden Alms Bowl.
The Golden Alms Bowl!
Suddenly, the monk's eyes lit up. He cast the Golden Alms Bowl upward, and the moment it left his hand, it became a huge, translucent bowl glowing with golden light. It crashed down over them, forming a barrier that sheltered them both.
"This..." The Daoist gaped.
"This is another life-saving trump card!" the monk said with a grin.
"Didn't you say you'd used them all up?" the Daoist asked.
"I forgot about it just now!" The monk scratched his head.
"What does it do?" the Daoist asked.
"He can't break in right away now!" Zhixuan said with an air of unfathomable wisdom.
"But... we can't get out, either!" Mude said.
The monk froze at that. "Well, there wasn't anything else we could do!"
"If you'd put it over him instead... couldn't we have just left?" Mude looked as though he wished he could hammer this lump of iron into steel.
The monk went blank...
Outside the translucent golden dome formed by the Golden Alms Bowl, the black-robed man studied it with interest.
"A Buddhist Golden Alms Bowl?"
He sneered, channeled power into his sword, and thrust it at the Golden Alms Bowl.
The monk's and the Daoist's hearts rose into their throats.
Clang!
The golden dome shuddered, blocking the sword...
The monk and the Daoist breathed a sigh of relief.
"Let's see how many blows this lousy dome can take!" The black-robed man's expression turned icy.
Indeed... it would not withstand many blows at all... the monk and the Daoist lowered their eyes... it was only a temporary means of saving their lives, buying them a little more time.
And they were on the enemy's turf. Who knew whether more people would come rushing over?
The black-robed man channeled power into his sword again, and his second strike followed.
The golden dome shook violently under the blow!
The black-robed man sneered and raised his sword once more.
Bitterness crept into the monk's and the Daoist's hearts... it would not hold.
Suddenly, the black-robed man's heart pounded wildly, and an inexplicable chill crawled over his entire body.
As though sensing something too, the monk and the Daoist turned toward the wall beside them.
Through the pitch-black night...
An arrow flew out of the darkness, whistling toward them with the grace and force of a startled swan.
The Featherless Arrow came from the darkness, racing through the rainy night, its chilling point slicing through falling raindrops.
Its tip gleamed with a bitter, piercing cold, like a death warrant that would snatch away a person's soul.
Its black shaft moved through the night like a wandering ghost, cold and merciless.
The Featherless Arrow tore through the void, approaching eerily through the stillness...
I can't dodge it... I can't dodge it... The black-robed man blanched in horror. The tip of that whistling arrow seemed to carry a strange, oppressive force, and it appeared to have locked onto him. He understood... he could not dodge it.
The black-robed man channeled all his spiritual power into his sword and held it across his chest.
But... a sword was made for attack, not defense.
The arrow arrived... the sword broke...
The black Featherless Arrow passed through the black-robed man's chest like a ghost and drove hard into the stone beneath him. The black arrowhead that had saved Su Mo countless times shattered in that same instant.
The sword broke apart and fell to the ground.
The arrow's shaft was black... untouched by a single drop of blood.
Still gripping the hilt, the black-robed man looked down. Dark red blood slowly seeped from a small hole in the black robe over his chest, staining the fabric.
His spiritual power dispersed, his life ebbed away...
The black-robed man crumpled to his knees, just as that woman had knelt in the street the night before...
For a moment, the monk and the Daoist could not quite process what had happened.
In the darkness, a figure vaulted down from the high wall and walked slowly through the night.
The figure walked through the rain, letting the drops fall onto him as though he never noticed, utterly heedless.
The black-robed man raised his head, his gaze fixed on the figure approaching through the rain...
Clad in black, he wore a black hooded cloak that fluttered in the rain. The hood was pulled low over his head, hiding his face. He held a pitch-black Heavy Crossbow, with a quiver on his back.
Pat... pat...
Dressed entirely in black, the figure stepped through the rainwater, entering the courtyard and the dim candlelight.
"A Mortal?" The black-robed man looked up. He could detect no fluctuations of spiritual energy from the newcomer dressed entirely in black.
"Yes!" the newcomer answered softly.
"Why?"
A scarlet trickle ran from the corner of the black-robed man's mouth as he spoke hoarsely.
He did not understand...
He did not understand why a Mortal would become involved.
He did not understand why a Mortal would possess an Immortal Object.
He did not understand why a Mortal would dare enter the cultivation monastery.
He did not understand why a Mortal would be unafraid of an Immortal's might.
"Because..." The black-clad newcomer walked up to him and pulled back his hood, revealing a youthful, unseasoned face and neatly tied hair soaked through by the rain.
Rain covered that face, yet it revealed nothing but sorrow. "I wanted to see just how shitty this world was!"
"Because... someone told me yesterday that I was different from you."
"Because... someone asked me today, why not do something?"
"Because... among all those countless people you call vermin... someone has to do something for them..."
"Otherwise... wouldn't they be far too pitiful!"
The black-robed man lowered his head. His life was draining away madly, and for the first time, he felt... the wind on this rainy night was rather cold.
Icy rain battered his face relentlessly, carrying a salty bitterness into the corner of his mouth.
"Do you feel it?" Su Mo crouched down, looking at the man before him whose hands were steeped in blood.
Su Mo's face was full of anguish... there was no hatred, no relief, no composure or fearlessness.
There was only the dread and unease of killing for the first time.
"Do you feel how precious life is? Everyone only gets one. Even Immortal Cultivators are no exception!" Su Mo gazed up at the pitch-black heavens.
The black-robed man trembled all over, unable to speak...
He saw the aura of death blotting out the sky, and terror at its approach filled his body and heart...
"The people you killed were like this before they died too... unwilling... helpless... afraid... lost..."
"Who among them... didn't want to live!"
Rain covered Su Mo's face... his sorrow was beyond words.
He felt it as though it were his own-the joys and sorrows of those he had seen, and the joys and sorrows of the man he had killed.
"Do you remember the woman who ran into the street yesterday, holding a swaddled baby? Even in her utter terror... she still didn't want to drag anyone else into it."
"The people you call vermin... they're just like you, but kinder. They feel fear... they rejoice in life and grieve at death..."
The black-robed man raised his head. On the brink of death, his expression slowly softened, and something like understanding appeared in his eyes.
He remembered the joys of childhood... the hardships of growing up... the pain of losing loved ones...
"Like them, I rejoice in life... and grieve at death..."
"So... I too am merely a mortal..."
Cold rain startled the night; the black-robed man knelt with his head bowed...
That night, Su Mo killed for the first time in his life...
That night, Su Mo cried out against the world's injustice...
Before you continue