SS CH70

The moment Helian Yu emerged, Wei Changjun knew he should no longer remain.

He had long known his Palace Master’s temper. Especially in front of this Daoist, the Palace Master never tolerated a second person catching Duanqing’s eye. Thus, with a wave of Wei Changjun’s hand, the assassins who had accompanied him all retreated. Utilizing his qinggong, he leaped forward, grabbed Bu Xueyao, stepped on the jagged rocks jutting from the water, and vanished over the cliff’s edge in a few bounds.

It wasn’t that Duanqing didn’t want to stop him, but the moment he moved, Helian Yu blocked his path. With a flick of his wrist, the Qianyuan sword shot out, tangling his movements like lingering water. “Why is the Daoist in such a rush to leave, unwilling to even give me a proper look? If you want to look at others, I will chop off their limbs, turn them into human swine, and display them in front of you so you can look your fill. How about it?”

His laughter carried a treacherous edge, as if he weren’t speaking about his capable subordinate, but merely a ruined dog.

Helian Yu spoke with casual understatement, and Duanqing treated it entirely as wind passing his ears. Sweeping his whisk to deflect Helian Yu’s opportunistic grab, he tread lightly across the water, pursuing the direction Bu Xueyao had disappeared. However, the purple silhouette flashed before him as Helian Yu pressed the attack. The sharp, blade-like finger cots on his right hand forced their way toward Duanqing’s eyes; his left hand brandished Qianyuan in a light sword flower, transforming into a streak of white light that sliced toward Duanqing’s throat.

Both moves targeted vital points, so fast they left no room for retreat, showing absolutely no signs of exhaustion. Duanqing frowned and leaned his head back. His right hand drew a circle before his chest, using a skillful diversion to lock Helian Yu’s right hand. Turning sideways with the momentum, his left elbow slammed into Helian Yu’s right ribs. This strike packed immense power; even wood and stone would have shattered, but Helian Yu’s body was as solid as a golden bell, not shifting a single inch!

Laughing softly, Helian Yu shook his arm and broke free from Duanqing’s grip. Switching Qianyuan to his right hand, he slashed horizontally across Duanqing’s neck. Just as it was about to cut into flesh, it was blocked by a jade flute, unable to advance another half-inch.

Being at such close quarters was enough for Duanqing to clearly see the residual bloodstains on his right finger cots. Throughout this exchange, Duanqing had not been injured, and Helian Yu remained unharmed; this blood naturally belonged to someone else, and it was fresh.

Duanqing’s originally cold expression grew even frostier. He raised a palm to meet Helian Yu’s striking finger, and both used the reciprocal force to retreat. Helian Yu landed on a broken tree trunk, while Duanqing landed on the large boulder above the water, leaving the bout undecided.

Duanqing said, “I didn’t expect that after ten years of not seeing you, your Qianjie Gong has already reached the peak of the eighth level.”

When the Qianjie Gong reaches the eighth level, one can use the Ashura Hand’s bloody method of digging out hearts and livers and splitting open the dantian to absorb the internal energy of others and replenish oneself. Back then, its creator used this method to recuperate while fighting a bloody battle against the martial world’s encirclement, fighting for seven days without exhaustion, only falling to defeat against the grandmaster of the Supreme Palace on a sheer cliff due to a single missed move.

No wonder Helian Yu, after rushing here continuously for days, was able to recover enough lingering strength in such a short time to fight him.

Helian Yu smiled. “Shouldn’t the Daoist congratulate me?”

“From the fourth level onward, this technique requires drinking blood to gather qi and killing to nourish strength. To reach the eighth level, who knows how many people you have killed. It is a massive disaster; what is there to congratulate?”

Helian Yu removed his mask, revealing a face pale from prolonged absence of sunlight, staring greedily at the person before him. “Seeing me achieve such success, are you not happy?”

Lowering his eyes, Duanqing said, “It is only a pity.”

“A pity for what?”

Duanqing opened his eyes, his cold gaze utterly devoid of human warmth. “A pity that back then, I didn’t cripple you.”

The moment these words came out, Helian Yu’s eyes instantly turned red.

Blood vessels climbed up his sclera, his pupils as black as unmelting blood-ink. Helian Yu suddenly burst into laughter, laughing until he leaned back and forth: “Hahahaha, it really is you… I should have known early on, even if the four seas were filled in by the three mountains, you would still be stubbornly foolish beyond belief!”

Before his voice faded, he lunged toward Duanqing like a loosed arrow. Before he even arrived, the sword’s edge was displayed, slashing a flying rainbow through the splashing water. The splashed water droplets spun abruptly along the blade, forming a curved edge like a bright moon flying out of the water, pressing straight for Duanqing’s throat!

Duanqing flicked the whisk in his hand, drawing a circle to act as a lock wrapping around the sword’s edge. Although it was shredded in the next moment, it still bought him a crucial instant. Abandoning the whisk, he shifted his footwork, leaning his back against the sword and pivoting, arriving behind Helian Yu and utilizing the momentum to strike a palm toward his head.

The strike was too fast. Before Helian Yu could defend, he took a solid palm strike to the head. Instantly, his mind buzzed in chaos, blood flowed from his seven orifices, and his brain was nearly shattered by the internal energy.

Duanqing—severing emotion—truly showed no mercy.

Hissing a laugh, Helian Yu stabbed his sword sharply backward. After forcing Duanqing away, he raised a sleeve to wipe the blood from his face. When he turned around, no pain was visible, save for a pair of eyes as crimson as blood.

Duanqing’s shoulder flashed red, and Helian Yu’s sword tip was stained with a thin layer of blood. Smearing it with his thumb, he opened his mouth and cherishingly licked it clean, a sickly excitement painting his face.

“I regret it, Daoist.” Helian Yu curled his lips. “Back then, I shouldn’t have watched you jump off the cliff. I should have grabbed you, drained your blood to the last drop and drank it, and turned your skin into a human doll. Then I surely could have possessed you forever, right!”

His words were insolent, his demeanor and behavior even more absurd and presumptuous. Before Duanqing could speak, sword light flared again. Helian Yu followed him like a shadow, appearing before Duanqing in an instant. The sword’s trajectory was bizarre and incredibly fast, stabbing straight at Duanqing’s heart.

The next second, the blade pierced flesh. The crimson hue spread down the blade, dripping onto the hand Helian Yu used to hold the sword.

Unlike the scalding hot blood of others, Duanqing’s blood was lukewarm, as if it had gradually cooled after boiling, leaving only residual warmth.

Helian Yu’s sword strike had been as fast as startling thunder. Unarmed and with no room to retreat behind him, Duanqing raised his hand in the blink of an eye and gripped the blade itself.

Although Qianyuan was a soft sword, once infused with internal energy, it became incomparably rigid. This cut sliced through skin and flesh, nearly reaching the bone. Yet Duanqing acted as if he couldn’t feel the pain. The hand holding the sword was as steady as a rock as he stared coldly at Helian Yu.

If Helian Yu moved even slightly, he could perhaps sever four of his fingers, but locked in this gaze, his breathing slowed.

“Unable to even control your own emotions—are you indulging your desires, or have you been enslaved by the Qianjie Gong?”

Duanqing slowly released his hand, blood dripping from his fingers. Without even looking at his own wound, he tucked his bloody hand into his sleeve. The left hand holding the flute suddenly thrust forward, striking Helian Yu’s Tianchi acupoint. The latter instantly felt the breath in his chest give way, losing all strength in his body and nearly dropping to his knees.

“After ten years, you’ve only regressed. As of today, I have finally begun to look down on you.”

Duanqing turned his back as he spoke, his tone remaining light and devoid of joy or anger. From start to finish, he maintained an apathy bordering on total disregard.

Helian Yu’s expression blanked for a moment before quickly returning to dead silence. The blood-red faded from his eyes, yet they remained full of unwilling resentment.

He suddenly spoke up, “Daoist, wait.”

Duanqing paused his steps but did not look back. “What is it?”

“You haven’t stepped into the world for ten years, yet now you’ve descended the mountain to wade into these muddy waters, even coming to the Burial Soul Palace…” Helian Yu chuckled lowly. “Is it for that good disciple of Gu Qifang?”

Duanqing turned his head slightly. “You know?”

“I just saw him a few days ago.” Helian Yu wiped the blood from Qianyuan with a handkerchief, carefully folding it away. “He isn’t Gu Xiao anymore. He changed his name to Ye Fusheng. He isn’t missing any arms or legs, and his martial arts have progressed rapidly. The Jinghong lineage truly has a worthy successor.”

Ye Fusheng.

Frowning, Duanqing repeated those three syllables in his mind. He suddenly recalled the fragmentary rumors he had heard in Guyang City. Unfortunately, he had been rushing to the Burial Soul Palace at the time and hadn’t inquired further.

To think he had actually missed him.

Helian Yu laughed. “Had I known you were looking for him, I should have brought him back with me this time. Perhaps the Daoist would have even graced me with a pleasant look.”

“Where is he?”

“When we parted ways, he was in the northern Anxi Mountains. As for now… he was accompanied by a junior from the Hundred Ghosts Sect, their current sect master. They should have traveled south together.”

Duanqing resumed his steps. “Thank you for the information. We shall meet again.”

“Hold on!” Helian Yu spoke up. “Since I answered the Daoist’s question, how about the Daoist answers one of mine?”

Duanqing finally turned around, his gaze indifferent. “Speak.”

“When Gu Qifang died all those years ago, the Daoist retreated from the world. It truly kept me in suspense for a long time, and I still cannot let it go to this day. I presume the Daoist feels the same.” Helian Yu smiled, flexing his fingers as if grasping invisible fate. “However, as her disciple, Gu Xiao did not keep vigil or sweep her tomb after his master’s death. He disappeared for many years, even changing his name and identity, and never returned to the mountain to pay his respects. To an outsider like me, speaking of such things genuinely chills the teeth.”

These words seemed embedded with countless poisoned thorns. Duanqing remained unmoved, though his voice grew colder. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“I merely want to know one thing.” Helian Yu raised his eyes to meet his gaze directly, enunciating every word. “The Daoist takes such great pains to find him… Is it to bring back a disciple who has long been away from home, or… to seek justice from the murderer of your wife?”