SS CH79

Every inch of the Weeping Blood Cave oozed with an eerie, sinister aura.

The moment Gu Qifang stepped inside, an overwhelming wave of discomfort washed over her. It wasn’t just the unbearable stench of blood; it felt as though every patch of dirt and stone in this place had gained sentience, exuding a bloodthirsty aura waiting to devour anyone who entered. It made one’s hair stand on end.

The ground beneath her feet wasn’t hard. In some areas, the soil was noticeably soft—mixed with minced flesh and bone fragments. Stepping on it caused a slight sinking sensation, as if walking within the belly of a beast.

It was incredibly dim. Aside from the scattered, fragmented luminescent pearls embedded in the walls, only a few small holes piercing through the mountain rock provided enough light to barely distinguish shapes. Under such lighting, anyone would look like a ghost—let alone the fact that… there were actual ghosts here.

Following the passageway to its end, she arrived at a fork with two paths, both sealed by iron grates. Due to the dim light, Gu Qifang had to step closer to inspect them. To her horror, she found a white skeleton. Its deformed limbs looked as though they had been broken while the person was still alive, and the body was tightly bound to the iron grate with heavy iron chains.

The empty eye sockets stared back toward the direction Gu Qifang had come from. It seemed that before dying, this person had stared unwillingly at the cave entrance, desperately wanting to escape but unable to break free from the bindings, forced to watch the path of survival while slowly waiting for death.

The bones bore numerous bite marks, as if the flesh had been torn away by wild beasts. Yet, the wind blowing from the cave carried no animalistic stench, and the residual bite marks on the bones lacked the sharp indentations of animal fangs. Instead, they looked as though they had been bitten by human teeth.

Gu Qifang didn’t think too deeply on it, because dwelling on such things would easily breed fear and righteous indignation, causing her to lose her composure.

She looked toward the right grate. Dark red bloodstains lingered on the iron bars, and the color of the soil beneath it was slightly more vibrant than the surrounding dirt. Rubbing some of it between her fingers, she deduced it was human blood that had dripped within the last few days.

Her heart skipped a beat. Gu Qifang didn’t know how terrible her own complexion had become. She silently cursed herself for letting her imagination run wild. That little brat Gu Xiao had always had the heavens watching over him. When he was a child, his irresponsible birth mother had thrown him into a barren mountain for a whole day and night, yet he hadn’t been eaten by wolves. Having been raised to this age by her through what felt like a combination of trickery and sheer luck, he absolutely wouldn’t be someone who died young.

Thinking this, Gu Qifang began inspecting the chain on the iron grate. It was incredibly sturdy; without a key, even a fine steel blade would have trouble hacking it apart. To avoid alarming whoever was inside, she didn’t draw her blade to chop the lock. Instead, she grabbed one end of the iron chain with each hand and roused her qi.

Although she was a woman, she was born with divine strength. Before the age of ten, she could carry a hundred-catty water vat and run around the courtyard. Had she been born a man, she surely would have possessed the heroic spirit to “pluck up mountains and overshadow the world.” Channeling qi into her dantian and exerting full force into her hands, a sharp light flashed in her eyes. With a crisp crack, the iron chain—as thick as a baby’s arm—was forcefully snapped apart by her bare hands.

With a creak, she pulled the iron grate open, ducked her body, and slipped inside.

The stone walls along the path were covered in marks—slashes from sabers and axes, as well as scratches from claws and teeth. Numerous bloodstains remained, most having darkened to a blackish-red, forming congealed clumps on the walls. A light rub would cause bloody powder to flake off.

Aside from these, there were also imprints left by fingers, palms, fists, and feet. Gu Qifang examined them closely and concluded they likely belonged to a single person. They progressed from shallow to deep, exactly like someone advancing step by step upon the martial path.

A shock ran through her heart. She had already guessed what this place was—Helian Yu’s secluded martial arts training chamber.

The intuition honed through years of life-and-death struggles flared up in that moment, screaming at her that this place was dangerous and she should not proceed further. Yet she had another feeling… that Gu Xiao was inside.

Between leaving and staying, Gu Qifang hesitated for only a fraction of a second before plunging deeper without looking back.

The further in she went, the wider and darker the cave became. The bizarre, bloody stench beneath Gu Qifang’s nose grew increasingly pungent. Although her internal energy allowed her to hold her breath for a long time, she couldn’t do it indefinitely. Inevitably, she inhaled some of the scent. Her mind gradually grew sluggish, and an unprovoked wave of irritability surged in her chest.

Shaking her head, she spotted a low archway ahead and was preparing to bend down to enter. Suddenly, a dark shadow lunged out from within, tackling her to the ground with immense force and opening its mouth to bite straight for her throat.

Startled, Gu Qifang instantly sobered up. With no time to draw her blade, she bent her leg and kicked the creature in the stomach. Slapping a hand against the ground, she used the momentum to spring to her feet. The Jinghong blade sang as it left its sheath. The dark shadow she had kicked away lunged right back, slamming directly into the blade. In an instant, its head was severed from its body, rendering it as dead as could be.

Relying on the faint glow of the scattered luminescent pearls on the wall, Gu Qifang focused her gaze. By her feet lay a bald human head. The corpse on the ground was wrapped in a few tattered rags, its hair mostly fallen out, its limbs emaciated, and its flesh shriveled like a deformed monster.

A bizarre rustling sound echoed from the archway. Gu Qifang took two steps back and watched as six more identical monstrosities crawled out.

Indeed, they crawled. Like wild beasts, they moved on all fours, their postures twisted to the extreme. Their heavily bloodshot eyes held no light and bulged so far they seemed ready to pop out of their sockets. Their mouths hung open mindlessly, revealing pale tongues and disgusting drool.

These were pitiable humans who had lost their minds—livestock meticulously trained and broken.

Gu Qifang felt a chill run down her spine. Her parents had died early, and she had wandered the Jianghu since childhood, yet she had never seen such a hair-raising, horrifying sight. It truly made one’s blood run cold.

These human livestock all possessed specific calluses on their hands and feet, indicating they were likely all martial artists. Their bodies were covered in wounds. Some were from biting each other, but the majority perfectly matched the palm and finger imprints on the cave walls. It was obvious that Helian Yu had reduced them to this state primarily to serve as sparring partners for his martial arts practice.

She retreated two steps, but the human livestock refused to let her go. Having long since lost their sanity, they instinctively lunged to bite any living creature they saw. Normally, they would fight each other to eagerly devour even a rat; how much more so upon seeing a living, breathing person?

One human livestock pounced first. Gu Qifang swung the scabbard in her hand, striking its head, but it merely caused the creature to tilt its head slightly. Its momentum undiminished, the other five refused to be left out, lunging from different directions, impatient to devour their grand feast.

Leaning backward, Gu Qifang supported herself with one hand on the ground. She raised her right foot and kicked the chin of the leading livestock, knocking its jaw askew. With a fluid motion, she hooked her left foot around its head and violently swung the creature through the air, smashing it into two others behind her, sending the three miserable brothers crashing to the ground.

Seeing another livestock lunge, she stood up and swung her blade, immediately unleashing a diagonal upward slash of the “Baihong” form, slicing through flesh and bone. However, this creature was incredibly ferocious; it actually used both hands to lock in a death grip around her blade. In that split second, the remaining two livestock closed the distance. She dodged one, but the other bit deeply into her left shoulder.

Seeing blood on her shoulder, Gu Qifang frowned. Instead of abandoning her blade, she increased her strength and twisted left, bodily hurling the creature away and smashing it against the mountain wall, leaving its fate unknown.

With her arm freed, Gu Qifang threw an elbow backward, knocking the remaining livestock away. She discovered her shoulder had already turned black, the skin and flesh slowly festering.

These human livestock were venomous! Gu Qifang’s expression changed drastically. Without hesitation, she sealed her acupoints to stop the bleeding, rendering her left arm completely immobile. Gritting her teeth, she watched the remaining five livestock swarm her again. Launching herself from the ground, she flipped violently in mid-air. Stepping off the ceiling with her feet, she positioned her upper body downward, twisted her waist, and unleashed a fully charged “Hengbo” (Horizontal Wave) slash with her right hand.

Blood sprayed violently. A deep bloody line sliced across the throats of all five livestock, nearly severing their bones. Yet, with whatever meager strength remained, they still stubbornly tried to claw at her. Landing on the ground, Gu Qifang ducked low and delivered another sweeping cut to their legs, finally putting an end to them.

She panted heavily, the clothes on her back completely soaked in cold sweat. Focusing her attention on the corpses of the human livestock, she suddenly noticed a clue.

All these livestock bore saber wounds. Aside from the ones she had just inflicted, some had already scabbed over. Many of these wounds closely resembled her own blade techniques, only lacking in profound internal energy and executed with a touch of youthful inexperience.

Helian Yu didn’t use a blade. And in the entire world, the number of people who knew the Jinghong Technique—even counting her old man—amounted to exactly three.

Her eyes turning icy, Gu Qifang didn’t hesitate for another second. Twisting her body, she slipped through the archway. The passage was initially narrow before gradually widening, but it was so dark she could only make out vague silhouettes.

Standing on solid ground, unable to clearly see her surroundings, she heard heavy, ragged breathing from the right. It sounded exactly like the human livestock from earlier, filled with uncontrollable madness.

Steeling her heart as a dark silhouette flickered and a fierce gust of wind tore through the air, Gu Qifang struck with her long blade. Fast as rushing thunder and flashing lightning, she thrust straight for her opponent’s chest. It was one of the most merciless killing moves in the Jinghong Technique—Jinglei.

However, this dark silhouette didn’t use claws and teeth like the livestock before. He, too, held a saber. He also focused all his power into a single point, pressing forward with no intent of returning, carrying the overbearing, sky-rending edge of thunder.

The faint light reflected off the cold blades, illuminating the brows and eyelashes of both sides. One pair of eyes was as cold as frost and snow; the other was filled with madness.

In an instant, Gu Qifang’s pupils constricted, the killing intent in her eyes melting away like ice and snow. It was too late to withdraw her move, leaving her no choice but to loosen her grip and abandon her blade in the fraction of a second available.

Yet, the long blade in the hands of the person before her howled forward like wind and thunder. Although Gu Qifang barely managed to angle her heart away, how much slower could the qinggong she had personally cultivated be compared to her own?

The blade pierced her chest. Accompanied by the sickening crunch of bone, it tore through her flesh and blood like a hot knife through butter. With unrelenting momentum, it pressed forward, pinning her firmly against the cave wall behind her!

It hurt. It hurt so much she couldn’t breathe. The freezing blade felt like a phantom planted in her flesh, rapidly draining the hot blood from her body.

Gu Qifang opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but her throat was clogged with flowing blood. She coughed, her entire body trembling, unable to utter a single word.

But it was exactly the sound of this coughing that brought the maddened person a brief moment of clarity.

Hot blood flowed down the blade hilt onto his hands. Gu Xiao’s entire body shuddered. He first stared at his own hands, though in the dim light, he could only see a patch of pitch black.

A hand, coated in thick, warm blood, trembled as it touched his face, gently brushing the corner of his eye.

In a daze, he remembered asking Gu Qifang when he was very young why everyone else had parents, but he only had a Shifu?

Back then, the woman had laughed heartily, raising her hand just like this to gently wipe the tears from the corner of his eyes, saying, “Don’t cry, Shifu loves you.”

Gu Xiao felt as though he had been struck by lightning. His head throbbed with splitting agony, his vision blurring until he couldn’t see anything clearly. He could only grip that hand and hoarsely croak, “Shi…fu?”

Duanqing traveled under the stars and moon, finally arriving at Mizong Ridge that night.

When he reached the outskirts of the ridge, his horse collapsed from sheer exhaustion, and he nearly fell along with it. The forcefully maintained internal energy was currently stretching his meridians to the point of agonizing pain, and his dantian felt as if it were going to split open. It made his already bloodless face look even more terrifyingly pale, like a ghost.

Duanqing arrived at an opportune time, yet simultaneously at the worst possible time.

The opportune aspect was that a massive fire had suddenly broken out in the mountains, sending the guards into complete chaos—the perfect situation to fish in troubled waters. The unfortunate aspect was that the moment he dismounted, two fine steeds galloped toward him through the wind and dust, seemingly having just returned from a great distance. The man leading them wore purple robes and a silver mask, carrying the Qianyuan ancient sword on his back.

Helian Yu seemed incredibly surprised to see him here. After freezing for a moment, he waved his hand, ordering Black Tortoise Hall Master Wei Changjun, who was behind him, to retreat first.

Reining in his horse, he paced a few steps in place. The unhidden joy in his tone could not be diminished even through the mask: “Duanqing… Daoist, what brings you to Mizong Ridge?”

Duanqing looked at him coldly. The hands hidden in his sleeves slowly clenched into tight fists, the veins bulging on the back of his hands, before slowly relaxing again.

When he didn’t answer, Helian Yu answered for himself: “Don’t tell me you missed me… Since I took over as Palace Master, the Daoist hasn’t even come to take a single look at me, let alone offer congratulations.”

These words dripped with boundless grievance, but Duanqing treated them as wind passing his ears. Getting straight to the point, he demanded, “How is Gu Xiao? Where is Qifang?”

“What a joke the Daoist tells. You failed to watch over your own wife, and now you come asking me?” Helian Yu rested his chin on one hand. “The Daoist can see for himself: I have just returned from handling matters outside. How would I know?”

Pausing, he added, “As for Gu Xiao… if the Daoist means the little whelp who first ruined my grand plans and then intercepted me at the foot of Feiyun Peak, I indeed know.”

Duanqing’s expression turned icy. “Hand him over to me.”

“Why must the Daoist be so cold? It’s not like I mistreated him. I merely used him as an excuse to get you to come looking for me. Now that my wish is fulfilled, I naturally won’t make things difficult.” Helian Yu smiled. “It has been many years since we last met. If the Daoist walks a stretch of the road with me, I will take you to pick him up. How about it?”

Duanqing turned his head to glance at the firelight in the mountains, noncommittal. “Are you not worried?”

“If my subordinates cannot even handle these miscellaneous fish, I might as well replace them with dogs to watch the gate.” Helian Yu dismounted and gestured invitingly. “Please.”

Without hesitation, Duanqing stepped forward and followed him. Along the way, Helian Yu babbled endlessly, but Duanqing didn’t utter a single reply. Despite this, Helian Yu remained in high spirits, not feeling bored in the slightest.

Until they reached the Weeping Blood Cave.

Helian Yu led Duanqing past the guards, taking a secret mountain passage straight into the Weeping Blood Cave. He didn’t present his masterpieces like the human livestock to Duanqing, leading him instead directly into the final hidden chamber.

Smelling the scent of fresh blood, Duanqing frowned tightly. Helian Yu chuckled lightly, pulled a fire stick from his robes, blew on it, and illuminated a corner of the room before them.

The next moment, Duanqing saw a floor covered in mess, and the broken half of a saber blade embedded in the cave wall ahead. Because this saber had gathered some rust, it had scraped off and retained tiny fragments of flesh when it was pulled from the body. Undried fresh blood still trickled down the blade, winding into a crimson line on the wall.

He didn’t know whose blood it was, nor whose body this saber had pierced. But in that split second, his entire body went cold. It felt as though a freezing hand had violently squeezed the clump of flesh and blood in his chest, threatening to crush it at any moment.

Duanqing’s body swayed imperceptibly as he heard Helian Yu let out an “Eh?” of surprise. “Strange. He was originally right here. Why did he disappear?”

Saying this, he held up the fire stick and examined the area closely. Following the trail of blood on the floor, sudden realization dawned on him. “Incredible. He actually went this way.”

Duanqing looked over and saw that what Helian Yu was referring to was a hidden door. Forged from massive stone, it weighed nearly a thousand catties. With Gu Xiao’s martial arts and physical strength, it would be absolutely impossible for him to push it open.

But there was another person who could.

By the firelight, he saw two bloody handprints on the stone door. They were significantly smaller than a man’s, the fingers slender—clearly belonging to a woman.

Duanqing suddenly panicked.

He had roamed the world unhindered for half his life before abruptly retiring, and he had never experienced such utter panic. Even the hand he placed on the stone door trembled slightly.

Helian Yu merely smiled silently. He looked at Duanqing exactly like a hunter looking at prey that had already stepped into the trap, absolute victory assured.

Channeling his strength, he pushed the door open with both hands, acting like an innocent child impatiently tearing the wrapping off a gift box.

Mountain winds howled inward. Behind the hidden door lay a not-so-spacious platform overlooking a sheer cliff. Below lay a long river, its undercurrents surging violently.

The platform was mottled with bloodstains. Following the blood forward, two people were at the edge of the cliff—one standing, one kneeling.

The kneeling woman’s strength was nearly exhausted, while the standing youth’s posture was unsteady.

He held the Jinghong blade he had picked up from the ground, pointing it shakily at Gu Qifang. His eyes flashed intermittently between clarity and madness, as if his very soul had been ripped in half, using his own body as a battlefield for a brutal fight to the death.

Gu Qifang wanted to call out to him, but unfortunately, she couldn’t make a sound. She could only clutch the wound on her chest and cough up blood. Hearing the hidden door open behind them, both she and Gu Xiao instinctively turned their heads, their pupils shrinking simultaneously.

Gu Qifang felt shock and anger, but Gu Xiao seemed to suddenly lose his mind entirely, raising the saber to chop straight toward her neck.

“Stop!” Duanqing’s pupils constricted. He launched a palm strike through the air, hitting Gu Xiao’s hand. The saber lost its aim, and the youth fell to his knees.

At that exact moment, Helian Yu’s palm strike also tore through the air, knocking Gu Xiao backward. Had he not instinctively plunged the Jinghong blade into the mountain rock to hang onto the edge, he would have likely fallen entirely off the cliff.