Food Immortal Master

Zhu Gaoyang's sword!

The two Purple-Robed Men abruptly realized their mistake. Even gravely wounded, Zhu Gaoyang would never wield a sword as feebly as he just had!

He was the true foremost prodigy of Dragon Lord Dongting. Countless exquisite sword arts, accumulated over a thousand years by the sect's illustrious predecessors, had nurtured this one singular genius of the sword over the past twenty years.

Even if he truly lay dying on the ground, helpless before their blades, deciding who would cut off his head would still require some nervous deferring to one another.

And now, he could still hold his sword.

The Dragon-Tempering Scripture, ranked seventh in the Profound Scripture Division, recorded Dragonlight Pierces the Dipper, a lethal sword strike among the fastest under heaven, long reputed to leave only the dead, never the wounded.

The Purple-Robed Men paid for their carelessness.

A cylindrical column of Sword Qi pierced the Purple-Robed Man on the left like a long rainbow, erasing his chest and abdomen and leaving an enormous hole.

Pei Ye nearly cried out in delight.

But the next instant, his smile froze. Dragging that ruined body, the Purple-Robed Man reached back without the slightest hindrance and pressed his hand onto Zhu Gaoyang's shoulder. Blood instantly sprayed from Zhu Gaoyang's entire left arm.

The other Purple-Robed Man drew his saber at the same time. At such close range, he needed no saber Qi; concentrating his power within the blade made it still more lethal.

His face white as paper, Zhu Gaoyang ignored the injury to his left arm and turned a cold stare on the man drawing his saber. The Purple-Robed Man immediately diverted three-tenths of his attack into defense.

It did him no good. Even gravely wounded and fighting with one arm, that sword still moved like a jade dragon. With three ringing clashes, the Purple-Robed Man's saber was flicked away, and the sword's edge went straight for his throat.

Though their cultivation realms were much the same, their mastery of their weapons stood as far apart as clouds and mud.

The Purple-Robed Man leaped backward, twisting nimbly like a flood dragon, but the sword's shadow clung to him like a maggot to bone.

Just as it was about to slit his throat, cold sweat broke out across the Purple-Robed Man—only for Zhu Gaoyang to abruptly turn and double back.

At the same time, the boy's shout rang out through the woods.

He paused in surprise, then immediately sprang after him.

Before Pei Ye, the Purple-Robed Man whose chest and abdomen had been pierced seemed molded from clay. There were no organs or anything of the sort inside his body, and the round hole was slowly closing.

The instant Pei Ye realized that, for the moment, only he and this Purple-Robed Man remained here, he retreated with all his strength and called for Zhu Gaoyang.

Sure enough, the Purple-Robed Man reached him in a single leap.

Fortunately, Zhu Gaoyang arrived behind Pei Ye almost simultaneously, sword raised and Qi gathering. Faced with him, the Purple-Robed Man drifted back several yards almost by instinct.

Clearly, although he had survived, that sword strike had cast an enormous shadow over him. He had no desire-and no ability-to endure another such strike.

But Zhu Gaoyang lowered his sword, formed a seal with one hand, then rested that hand on Pei Ye's shoulder. A vast surge of profound Qi gathered like clouds.

At this familiar sight, both Purple-Robed Men rushed forward with all their strength, but the profound Qi dispersed before they reached it. There was no one inside.

They fell once again, this time beneath a clear daylight sky, and Pei Ye was prepared.

First, he grasped the limp hand on his shoulder, then used the branches to slow their fall before landing firmly on the ground.

Only after lowering Zhu Gaoyang from his back did Pei Ye see that the entire left half of his body was soaked in blood. That blow had done far more than cripple his left arm.

Without asking or examining him, Pei Ye could already tell that he had truly reached the point where the oil was spent and the lamp was dying.

First came the rainbow-piercing force of Dragonlight Pierces the Dipper; then, with his body already desperately weak, he had endured the enemy's counterblow, burned his true Qi fiercely to pursue his foe dozens of yards, and finally used the physically draining Luminous Spirit Illuminates the World, Unbound by Dust once again.

Though their planned ambush had failed at the final hurdle, Zhu Gaoyang had indeed wrung out the very last drop of oil within him.

Pei Ye fed him another pill, but this time it had almost no effect. Zhu Gaoyang's eyes were narrowed and hazy, and his true Qi could no longer effectively staunch the bleeding.

Pei Ye tore strips from his clothes and swiftly bandaged him, then hoisted him onto his back again and raced west with all his strength.

"Well? Didn't you have to rely on me?" Zhu Gaoyang murmured, his head drooping onto Pei Ye's shoulder.

"Sure. You did great. Next time they catch up, I'll rely on you again."

"Next time... I can't..." Zhu Gaoyang murmured with a soft laugh, slowly closing his eyes.

"Hey! Don't sleep!" Pei Ye struggled to pour the liquid called dragon blood into the body on his back, but for the first time, the substance seemed to labor against an injury.

"Mm..." Zhu Gaoyang forced his eyes open. "Run west. Whatever you do, don't stop. If the thing in your belly starts feeling wrong, kill yourself if you have to, rather than bringing disaster on everyone else."

"Like hell I'll kill myself." Pei Ye glanced at the head swaying on his shoulder. "Don't sleep!"

"Mm."

"You still haven't finished telling me Broken Chivalrous Bones. Didn't Xi Wuchou charge in and slaughter every god and Buddha that stood in his way? Hang on. Once the dragon blood patches you up, you'll be slaughtering every god and Buddha in your way too," Pei Ye said. "The Torchworld Cult, Qiongqi—if they hadn't caught you unprepared that first time, which of them could have stood against a single stroke of Zhu Gaoyang's sword?"

"That's certainly true." Zhu Gaoyang smiled soundlessly.

When he found that valley, he truly had not expected three supreme grandmasters inside. Even amid that sudden upheaval, he had fought and killed one.

And rather than flee immediately after being gravely wounded, he had actually dared to lie concealed there, ultimately carrying away the final product of their scheme beneath all their watching eyes.

It had truly been a lone hero's courage, turning back a raging tide.

"But," Zhu Gaoyang sighed weakly, "Xi Wuchou didn't actually win that battle. And I really can't even lift my sword anymore."

Chapter 53: Chivalrous Bones

"Xi Wuchou fought his way inside. There really were several experts in the prince's residence. Outnumbered, he fought bitterly to defeat them and finally found Gao Muzhen. But the scholar had already been tortured to death. Xi Wuchou seized Gao Muzhen, and just then, the Prince of Zhenbei returned from outside," Zhu Gaoyang said softly. "The Prince of Zhenbei told him to put Gao Muzhen down, and he would let bygones be bygones. But Xi Wuchou gave him a sidelong glance and cut Gao Muzhen to death, stroke by stroke, right before his eyes."

"...And then?"

"Then, of course, the Prince of Zhenbei was utterly enraged. Xi Wuchou hadn't broken through to the next realm, so naturally he was no match. The prince captured him and subjected him to inhuman torture." Zhu Gaoyang chuckled softly. "That's the story through installment nineteen."

"..."

"See? You haven't read installment twenty. Aren't you leaving me to die with regrets?"

Pei Ye had no words. He had meant to offer a little encouragement, only to discover that the story ended like this.

"But there's still an installment twenty, isn't there?" Pei Ye managed.

Just then, a faint light flashed overhead. A white jade Sword Talisman flew down and hovered before them. Both paused in surprise, and Pei Ye immediately reached out to take it.

Zhu Gaoyang raised his bloodied hand and infused it with a faint thread of true Qi. A cool, clear voice emerged. "I'll arrive before sunrise. If your location changes, let me know at any time."

They fell silent for a moment, then exchanged helpless smiles.

Ming Qitian's willingness to come was naturally good news, but before sunrise-it was hard to say whether they could hold out until then.

Zhu Gaoyang let his head droop onto Pei Ye's shoulder again and muttered, "What a lovely voice."

Pei Ye turned to glance at him. "Hold on until noon tomorrow, and you'll get to see her in person."

Zhu Gaoyang laughed, then began coughing weakly again.

They stopped talking. Pei Ye hurried onward with all his strength, and gradually, the daylight dimmed.

Under the dragon blood's restorative effects, Zhu Gaoyang's complexion actually improved a little, and some of his true Qi gradually returned. But setting up another ambush like the one at noon was utterly out of the question.

And by their reckoning, it was about time for the Torchworld Cult to catch up again.

Pei Ye called to Black Chi within his belly. "How far away are you?"

"Half an hour at most." Clearly, Black Chi had also spent this time racing along behind them.

If they could get onto Black Chi's back, they would not need to worry about being overtaken for a while.

Pei Ye had just drawn a deep breath when a rustling suddenly came from the woods beside him. He turned to look, and a gleam of saber light was already before his eyes!

Behind that gleam was a black robe spread like an owl's wings.

The Purple-Robed Men had yet to catch up, and the black-robed men could only be slower than them. How had one suddenly appeared ahead?

Though momentarily puzzled, he recognized that speed and force. They were indeed much the same as Wu Zaigu's had been that day!

This was clearly the strongest kind of enemy he could face, one who could kill him on the spot if he made the slightest mistake, yet Pei Ye actually felt a trace of familiarity.

After killing Wu Zaigu, Pei Ye had thought it was time to reap the rewards. Even if a few loose ends remained, taller men had already come from the prefectural city and the Divine Capital to hold things up. He no longer needed to worry.

Who could have known that it had merely been the prelude to the true crisis? Those taller men were indeed standing firm between heaven and earth, holding it up, but the sky was still slowly collapsing.

After Jing Ziwang died, there was Zhu Gaoyang. Now Zhu Gaoyang was dying too, and tomorrow another person, Ming Qitian, would come.

This affair had always concerned his life and death, yet he had always been nothing more than an ant beneath the pillars supporting heaven, waiting for fate to descend.

Would this scheme be halted by Ming Qitian? If she could not stop it, who would come to hold things up next?

Pei Ye did not know, nor could he decide. He could only maneuver as best he could within this whirlpool, hoping for a better outcome.

And even that chance to do his utmost had rarely been given to him.

Now, at last, one had come.

Zhu Gaoyang's sword had already been held out before him. Slightly longer than Pei Ye's own, it surpassed his by several grades in both feel and appearance. A line of small vermilion characters was engraved on its pommel: lower first grade, Rhinoceros-Gleam Forge, Shen.

Pei Ye gripped the hilt and drew the sword.

The blade's divine radiance was held within. It was not a bright mirror, but autumn water, and its material was supple, almost unlike metal. It was nothing like Pei Ye's sword, which revealed an irrepressible, piercing chill the moment it left its sheath.

Every treasured sword rated "first grade" embodied the painstaking work of a master swordsmith from the East Sea Sword Forge. They would carefully inquire into everything about the person seeking a sword: the sword arts they had studied from childhood, their life experiences, their preferred way of fighting, and more, keeping it all confidential.

Then they would spend several days and nights designing the plans, carefully select materials, and forge with meticulous care. Once the sword was complete, they would engrave its grade, its forge, and their own name upon it.

For a swordsman, such a blade bore a deeply personal imprint. Its usual fate was to accompany its wielder for life and then enter the grave alongside them.

On the one hand, swordsmen qualified to possess a first-grade sword generally would not let its reputation languish, granting it a sufficiently illustrious "life." On the other, anyone with aspirations in the way of the sword would not accept a blade designed entirely for someone else, even one inherited from their father or master.

But it was more than sufficient for temporarily killing someone.

Pei Ye flicked his hand, and a dozen or so dark blue blossoms of flame sprang into being. He still did not know what use these flames had, but at least they could confuse an enemy's vision.

A sword flashed out amid the flame blossoms, their reflections shining on its edge as it sliced into the newcomer's throat.

The black-robed man saw only a blur, then darkness, before a cold pain struck his neck.

Clearly, the black-robed men in the mountains did not know how Wu Zaigu had died, nor had they imagined the boy could unleash such a strike.

To be honest, if Pei Ye had used Clouded Sky Obscures Eyes, Lost Feathers back then, even with the support of Quail Head and the Little Flood Dragon Heart, he might not have been able to threaten an uninjured seventh growth or eighth growth cultivator.

But now he brimmed with dragon blood, and his fundamental physical capabilities were no longer inferior to theirs. The potential of this sword technique could thus be brought out further.

He withdrew the sword. No blood clung to its edge, which remained as smooth as new.

"These should be the men the Torchworld Cult sent out to hunt me down that day," Zhu Gaoyang said softly.

If so, there was probably more than one.

This black-robed man had evidently moved ahead of the others. They should not be far away.