Awakening of Insects

Under cover of night, Zhao Changhe sprinted toward the rear mountain, with Fang Buping hot on his heels.

Killing a turncoat felt good in the moment, but Fang Buping had already arrived. Whether he could escape the pursuit after the killing-that was the real challenge.

In the moonlight, Fang Buping's expression was savage, yet held a trace of delight. "Zhao Changhe! You slaughtered a brother of the cult and violated our rules! Where do you think you're going? Hand over your life!"

Fang Buping truly was delighted.

Zhao Changhe's status as a "full cult member" had been a nuisance, and with the "Saintess backing him," Fang Buping really hadn't dared act recklessly. However much he wanted Zhao Changhe dead, he couldn't kill him. He could only abuse his authority and force Zhao Changhe to swallow his grievances.

Yet Zhao Changhe had proved so impatient that a little bullying had made him expose an opening all on his own.

Wang Dashan was, of course, no "brother of the cult." Strictly speaking, Zhao Changhe had merely killed a bandit from the Mountain Stronghold, no different from when he killed Zhang Quan. There was no grounds for invoking cult rules. But such matters depended on how one framed them. Back then, Instructor Sun had said the dead man was useless, and burying him was the end of it. Now, if the helmsman said the deceased was a brother of the cult, he could simply fabricate a register afterward. What defense could Zhao Changhe offer?

What a delightful surprise.

He knew Zhao Changhe had just broken through to the third level of the Profound Pass. That potential was genuinely frightening. Honestly, he couldn't understand how a human being could reach the third level of the Profound Pass after only four months of martial training... They had all practiced the Blood Baleful Art. Who didn't know what it could do? Even if Zhao Changhe had secretly practiced an internal art to supplement it, this was still absurd, wasn't it?

All the more reason to kill him. They had already made enemies of each other. Was he supposed to wait for Zhao Changhe to grow stronger?

Was reaching the third level so impressive? Zhao Changhe hadn't even had time to train and polish himself at that level; he might not be able to bring out much of its strength. Fang Buping, meanwhile, had spent years honing himself at the fourth level of the Profound Pass. Even setting everything else aside, could this greenhorn compare with his twenty years of bloody fighting in the martial world and his understanding of saber techniques?

Do you think you're Yue Hongling, able to fight Cult Master Xue at such a young age?

Even Yue Hongling trained from childhood-for more than a decade, damn it!

"Zhao Changhe, you're using Bloodflight Without a Trace too. How could you possibly outrun me? Come back quietly and stand trial! Hahahaha..."

"So much bullshit. Did you become helmsman by farting louder than everyone else?"

"...Once I get my hands on you, you'll beg for death and be denied it!"

The sound of robes cutting through the air drew steadily closer. Zhao Changhe raced ahead, his expression utterly calm.

They both used the same lightness skill, Bloodflight Without a Trace. With his higher cultivation, Fang Buping was clearly faster; simply running would never get Zhao Changhe away. But he had never intended to flee. He intended to fight. Leaving the Mountain Stronghold was only a way to avoid being surrounded and lure Fang Buping to the rear mountain.

Yue Hongling had seen it: "You must have a very clear target." Exactly. That target was Fang Buping. From beginning to end, Zhao Changhe had measured himself against one standard-whether he could fight Fang Buping.

Deputy Helmsman Huang had been appointed temporarily after the elite forces withdrew, but Fang Buping was different. From the outset, he had been a helmsman commanding elites such as Instructor Sun and holding a territory-a "provincial governor" guarding a region for an infamous Demon Cult, even if his ranking might have been near the bottom... This would be the hardest and most dangerous battle since Zhao Changhe had crossed into this world.

For instance, Fang Buping's foundational cultivation method might not be the Blood Baleful Art. He might have incorporated superior arts from the cult, perhaps even part of the Blood God Art.

And Bloodflight Without a Trace was a lightness skill that required internal energy to power it. The fact that Fang Buping used it meant he possessed internal energy, rather than being merely a practitioner of external arts.

Both internal and external cultivation! The fourth level of the Profound Pass!

And a masterful saber wielder with ample experience.

Could Zhao Changhe defeat someone like this from a lower level?

Whoosh! The saber whistled, its bone-piercing edge palpable even from afar. Zhao Changhe's back involuntarily tensed.

He caught up so fast!

Zhao Changhe abruptly turned and slashed, striking the side of Fang Buping's incoming saber with perfect accuracy, as though he had eyes in the back of his head.

He did not exhaust his strength in that slash. His foot promptly tapped the ground, and he borrowed the impact to dart diagonally away, covering several more yards in a blink.

Even Fang Buping had to admire the boy's solid fundamentals. Saber, hands, legs, and body worked in seamless coordination; his positioning was precise, his application of force exact. His saber technique truly deserved to be called accomplished. And who knew where he had learned to locate attacks by sound? He knew where the saber was coming without even looking.

Unfortunately, having only just reached the third level of the Profound Pass, he still fell short in raw strength.

"Your hand's shaking already, isn't it?" Fang Buping pursued again, smiling with interest. "Why scurry away? Why not fight a few proper exchanges and let me see how many surprises you can offer?"

Zhao Changhe's hand was indeed trembling slightly. But rather than the panicked flight Fang Buping imagined, he felt considerably more certain.

There had been none of that unshakable sensation of striking a wall, nor had Fang Buping's saber carried any unexpectedly brilliant follow-up... There was only a difference in strength! That meant this fight was possible!

Still silent, he continued darting away, then suddenly leaped over a patch of grass ahead.

Smiling, Fang Buping leaped over the grass as well. "I know your stronghold's traps like the palm of my hand. Hoping to turn the tables with those? Hahaha... Feeling hopeless yet?"

As he leaped, his saber suddenly began to glow blood-red, brimming with killing intent, its savagery unparalleled beneath the moonlight.

Gods and Buddhas Scattered!

Zhao Changhe could feel the blood-baleful energy inside him being utterly suppressed by his opponent, even tugged and churned. His Eyes Behind the Head worked against him somewhat now: seeing that savage blood-baleful force shook his soul, actually producing a measure of "fear."

But the feeling lasted only an instant. How could such "fear" frighten Zhao Changhe? He turned and slashed again.

Clang!

The violent clash rang through the night. Zhao Changhe spat out a mouthful of blood and tumbled backward through the air. He caught a hanging vine in passing, planted a foot hard against a nearby tree trunk, and used the force to swing toward the Waterfall Pool, all in one fluid sequence.

Fang Buping staggered a step too, astonishment deepening within him.

How could Zhao Changhe find the weakest point in this move's flow of force, as though he had countered it a thousand times? That shouldn't be possible... Even if he learned it, it shouldn't be possible. He couldn't have the experience to recognize the weaknesses in his own techniques. That would defy all reason...

The thought flashed past. Seeing Zhao Changhe swing away on a vine, he grabbed one himself and swung after him.

Yet while Zhao Changhe's vine held without a hitch, the moment Fang Buping pulled his, his hand suddenly lost purchase. The vine snapped.

At the same time, something like a trigger mechanism was pulled, and sharpened wooden spears shot at him from every direction.

-Wasn't this moment precisely why he had kept the turncoat alive to pass along information? To make Fang Buping believe he knew this place inside out, when in truth Wang Dashan knew fuck-all about the things Zhao Changhe had secretly arranged!

But even suspended in midair with no footing, Fang Buping made his saber dance like pear blossoms. In an instant, he knocked away every flying wooden spear. They failed to pose even the slightest threat. He truly was an experienced powerhouse who ruled a territory.

Behind a tree by the Waterfall Pool, Zhao Changhe had already drawn a bow and nocked an arrow, the murderous intent in his eyes almost tangible.

With a twang, the bow cracked like thunder, and the arrow streaked like a meteor.

Fang Buping had just dealt with the trap and was relaxing his guard when the bowstring sounded-and the arrow's gleaming point was already before his face.

Where did he get a bow? He clearly hadn't been carrying one!

As the thought flashed through his mind, Fang Buping roared and flicked his saber swiftly against the side of the arrowhead.

Doubly empowered by internal energy converted into blood-baleful energy, the arrow's force erupted in a spiral. Terrifying blood-baleful energy surged into Fang Buping's meridians, stirring the blood within him into turmoil. Even he had to retreat a step to absorb that powerful impact, but he did ultimately knock the arrow off course.

Before Fang Buping could draw a relieved breath, bloody light flared before his eyes.

A blood-red saber cleaved the heavens. Beneath the moonlight, a figure leaped across the pool like a celestial demon descending through the air.

Gods and Buddhas Scattered!

Wave after wave of attacks, truly like a great river surging onward, irresistible!

Clang! Fang Buping hurriedly raised his saber to block. The earth-shaking collision seemed loud enough to reach the distant stronghold.

His old strength had been spent, and fresh strength had yet to arise. Zhao Changhe had gathered his momentum for a long time, waiting for precisely this moment.

With one waning and the other waxing, this slash truly brought them to an even match.

Blood seeped from the corners of both men's mouths. Their arms bulged, their eyes scarlet as beasts'.

"I never imagined you could actually push me this far. Impressive..." Locked against him, Fang Buping ultimately had more strength to spare, and slowly spoke. "But this is where it-"

Before he finished, his vision turned entirely white.

A packet of lime burst across his face. Quite a bit entered his mouth, and his eyes burned with agony. He could no longer see anything.

Motherfucker! I thought he was a fiercely upright, fearless man, yet in the fiercest, most savage clash, the kind that set a warrior's heart ablaze, he suddenly threw lime!

Before Fang Buping could even curse, he felt a faint chill across his throat.

The moonlight was silent.

With lime coating his head and face and blood seeping from his throat, Fang Buping slowly toppled backward. A thud announced the end of the chase.

Even as he died, he probably never imagined his pursuit would end like this.

Utterly spent, Zhao Changhe slowly backed up a few steps, planted his saber in the ground, and sank to one knee, gasping for breath.

He had planned that arrow and slash for a long time. They had exhausted all his strength and overdrawn every ounce of his potential. Had he failed to finish everything in that single effort, he would have been doomed.

A Demon Cult helmsman was indeed beyond ordinary men. He was truly strong. Once Zhao Changhe ventured into the martial world, with its countless outstanding talents, challenging those of higher levels would no longer be as simple as he had once imagined.

As for the lime?

Heaven followed its constant course, neither enduring for Yao nor perishing for Jie.

The Book of Troubled Times acknowledged it too, didn't it?

Zhao Changhe drew a deep breath, forced himself upright, pulled out his saber and sheathed it, then strode down the mountain.

"Second Brother, hurry! Faster!" A young girl anxiously pulled her brother along as they flew onward. "He hasn't even broken through to the third level of the Profound Pass, while Fang Buping has spent years honing himself at the fourth! He can't win!"

"I told you to abandon the mission. Who gave you permission to sneak off on a night raid?"

"You're still going on about that? You can scold me when we get home, all right?"

Helplessly, Cui Yuanyong followed his younger sister into the mountain. They had barely entered the mountain path when his expression shifted and he looked up at the sky.

Golden light flashed across the heavens. The Book of Troubled Times delivered another entry.

"Second month, Awakening of Insects. Zhao Changhe, after only four months of martial training, broke through to the third level of the Profound Pass. At this time, he slew Fang Buping, a helmsman of the Blood God Cult's Sub-Helm, at North Mang."

"Hidden Dragon Ranking updated."

"Hidden Dragon, ninety-first: Zhao Changhe."

"A great river falls from the ninth heaven, flowing into the rivers and lakes."

[End of volume one]