Chapter 148
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Chapter 148: Qing Yue Asks to Fight
The sky was a vast expanse of drifting clouds, painting the heavens in shades of blue. Sunlight filtered through, illuminating the scene below where fish darted beneath the pebbles, and the water shimmered with a faint golden glow. Willow branches swayed gently in the breeze, their tender green leaves fluttering like whispers in the wind.
Though the Tianwu Continent bore the scars of countless battles, its air was alive with a sense of joy and vitality.
For the first time, the human race beheld a world so clear and radiant.
A future of boundless beauty seemed within their grasp.
Ming He, like the continent itself, moved with the wind, embracing the freedom of the world and her own spirit. She sped toward the Blood River Hall, her figure leaving behind fleeting afterimages as she advanced.
Clad in black and white robes, her ink-black hair tied neatly, the crimson hue at her collar bloomed like plum blossoms against the dark fabric. There was no trace of disarray—only the unyielding vigor of youth.
A faint smile played on Ming He’s lips as she glided effortlessly, her Jing Ying Sword trailing behind her like a wisp of blue light, the very blade she had used during her first Sword Flight.
As the inheritor of the Tianwu Continent, she could traverse vast distances with a mere thought, rendering Sword Flight unnecessary.
Yet, Ming He believed that a sword cultivator’s journey should always be accompanied by the art of Sword Flight. It was a skill she had once lost, and now that it was hers again, she cherished it all the more.
Perhaps, too, she was in no hurry to reach the Blood River Hall.
Fu Yao had told her that her Senior Sister awaited her just outside the hall, and naturally, Ming He longed to see her.
But within the Blood River Hall lay Yóu Lìng.
Yóu Lìng.
The memory of that towering, enigmatic Black Figure in the stone forest flashed through Ming He’s mind, and her breath hitched. A heavy weight settled in her chest, an unease she couldn’t shake.
Yet, no matter her feelings, the bloodstained ruins of the broken palace soon came into view. The distant sky remained bright, though a thin veil of shadow seemed to linger over the horizon.
The river of blood that flowed could very well belong to the Soul Clan.
“Senior Sister,” Ming He murmured softly as she descended, waving her hand to dismiss the Blue Sea Sword. Her gaze fell upon the white figure standing before the hall door, and her voice trembled with longing, clear and delicate.
The white figure stiffened momentarily before turning to face Ming He. Her features were as exquisite as ever, her aura as cold and pure as drifting snow, though her eyes now glistened with unshed tears.
Qin Chu Yi stood motionless, her gaze fixed on Ming He, a mixture of uncertainty and dazedness in her expression.
Ming He’s smile brightened. Though the Blood River Hall loomed dark and foreboding, Qin Chu Yi’s presence illuminated the space, outshining even the combined brilliance of the sun and moon.
“Senior Sister,” Ming He called again, her voice soft. She closed the distance between them in a few swift steps, standing beside Qin Chu Yi and intertwining their fingers. Her eyes sparkled with uncontained joy. “I missed you so much.”
“Chirp, chirp.” The Little Black Beast perched on Qin Chu Yi’s shoulder chirped first, its round eyes fixed on Ming He, conveying its own longing.
“Yes,” Ming He replied with a smile, her laughter as radiant as the sunlight. “I missed you too, Chirp Chirp.”
She absentmindedly patted the Little Black Beast’s head, her gaze shifting to Qin Chu Yi, who wore a slight frown. Ming He’s tone carried a hint of grievance. “Did Senior Sister not miss me at all?”
Ming He lowered her head, hiding her expression, though her entire being seemed to radiate a quiet melancholy.
Qin Chu Yi froze for a moment, then, under the Little Black Beast’s disapproving gaze, hesitantly reached out to embrace Ming He. Her voice was soft, almost ethereal, laced with suppressed emotion and a faint tremor. “No.”
“I didn’t forget about you,” she whispered, her eyes meeting Ming He’s deep, dark gaze. In those eyes, she saw Ming He’s reflection—a figure she had long cherished in her heart. “I missed you too.”
Ming He’s lips curved into a smile, and she tightened her grip on Qin Chu Yi’s hand, unwilling to let go. “That’s good. I thought Senior Sister might feel unworthy of me now that I’ve become the young leader of the human race, so you didn’t want to be with me anymore!”
She pouted, her peach blossom eyes shimmering with a mix of confidence and mischief. Her smile was dazzling, as if it could outshine the world itself, and it struck a chord deep within Qin Chu Yi’s heart.
Looking at Ming He, Qin Chu Yi couldn’t help but smile as well, though a sense of relief washed over her, mingled with a touch of sorrow. “I thought you would blame me.”
She had hoped that Ming He would soon realize that neither the human race nor the world had abandoned her, yet she feared that Ming He might resent her for not revealing the truth sooner.
“I won’t blame you, Senior Sister,” Ming He said, her smile unwavering and her eyes shining brightly. “I just feel for you, just as you feel for me.”
Fu Yao explained that this was both a trap set by the human race against the other races and a test for her as the young leader. He mentioned that it was because the heavenly way feared she might fall into darkness like Mu Chen, leading to the destruction of spirits and another crushing of the human race’s fortune.
In this grand scheme of fate, she bore significant injuries, but she also gained many opportunities.
She was a part of this cosmic game, and so was her Senior Sister!
To completely deceive the other races, the connection with Young Master Qin Chu Yi of the Qin Clan, the leader of the Ancient Clan, was crucial.
Therefore, the injuries her Senior Sister sustained in Tianwu City were indeed real.
If it weren’t for her status as the Young Master of Qin Huang Mountain, if it weren’t for being the chosen inheritor of the Ancient Emperor’s Tomb, if it weren’t for Chirp Chirp being by her side…
She didn’t know if her Senior Sister could still stand beside her now.
Fu Yao remarked that all of this was what the Young Master of the Qin Clan should bear.
Ming He clenched her fists, recalling that Fu Yao said her second Senior Sister was from the Shadow Clan.
If her heart wavered and she fell into darkness, Fu Yao and the Imperial Palace could still save her.
But if her Senior Sister couldn’t refine the inheritance from the Ancient Emperor’s Tomb, it would truly mean her death and eradication.
The Imperial Palace kept all the backup plans for her, but didn’t prepare anything for her Senior Sister.
So how could she possibly blame her Senior Sister?
Ming He opened her eyes wide, unable to hide her concern. “Fortunately, we both survived.”
Not only did they survive, but from now on, they would rise to greater heights, and no one would be able to suppress their brilliance again.
She and her Senior Sister were the future of the human race!
“Mm,” Qin Chu Yi nodded, her lips curving, but her gaze trembled for a moment as it lowered.
She hadn’t yet established a contract with heaven and earth, hadn’t held Ming He’s hand to witness the magnificent world and the landscapes of Tianwu. How could she possibly meet her end?
So, no matter how difficult it was, she had survived!
Zhan Qing Yi said that if it weren’t for her, Ming He might really have fallen into darkness.
But she knew Ming He would never do that; even without her, Ming He would never fall.
Ming He longed for brightness, yearned for the clouds at the mountain peak, and despised darkness.
From the moment she began to practice Swordsmanship, she had already been a sharp sword hiding its edge.
So, how could Ming He ever fall into darkness?
She and Mu Chen were never the same.
Ming He passed her test because of her own heart, not because of her.
But she survived because of Ming He!
Qin Chu Yi raised her eyes, a smile spilling from within her. The next moment, her gaze turned slightly somber as she looked toward the hall door of the Blood River Hall. “Yóu Lìng is inside.”
The Blood River Hall had a crucial significance for Yóu Lìng, and the human race was fully aware of this; so even if it meant death, she would choose to die here.
Knowing that the human race was already stationed here, she still chose to return.
The once pure blood of the Soul Clan, an extraordinary talent in soul mastery, even if her soul core was taken and her talents wasted, how could she not have the means to evade the human race’s pursuit?
She had always survived amidst the relentless pursuit of enemies from all corners of the world.
Yóu Lìng’s return to the Blood River Hall was driven by a resolve to face death head-on.
Ming He nodded gently, “Let’s go inside.”
With these words, she took Qin Chu Yi’s hand and stepped forward, crossing the blood-red hall door as the Nine Heavens Guard bowed slightly in respect, revealing the grandeur within the Blood River Hall.
From the outside, the Blood River Hall appeared dilapidated, but inside, it was a different story.
The glazed eaves and intricately carved beams shimmered, with a cold, sharp light reflecting off the black floor. The floating walls cast shadows, and the white jade steps ascended, leading to a black and blood-colored throne, high and mighty, overlooking everything below.
The phrase "golden brilliance and splendid palaces" perfectly encapsulated the essence of the Blood River Hall.
This hall had no windows to let in sunlight, keeping the bright world outside at bay, creating an oppressive darkness like ink within.
As a practitioner of the seventh stage of the Heaven Origin realm, Ming He could see through the darkness as if it were nothing. She examined the palace for a long time, feeling a sense of wonder.
It was a bit embarrassing to admit, but even though she had been brought here twice, she had been unceremoniously tossed into the dark chamber beneath the Blood River both times and had never set foot in the main hall of the Blood River Hall. She had no idea it looked like this inside.
If she guessed correctly, that throne must belong to the noble of the other races.
With this thought, she finally turned her gaze to Yóu Lìng.
Leaning against a black pillar, Yóu Lìng appeared indifferent, the black wolf mask still covering her face. She stared absently at a point in the void, seemingly unconcerned about the outside world.
Mu Qian stood beside her, nodding slightly when he saw Ming He and Qin Chu Yi enter. He remained at the hall door despite the complexity in Ming He’s eyes.
Having followed Yóu Lìng for so long, he thought perhaps he should accompany her for a while longer.
After all, her clan no longer existed in this world, and that noble of the other races was far away on the battlefield of the heavens.
“Yóu Lìng.” Ming He had been silent for a long time before finally speaking, her voice low and heavy, interrupting the girl in black’s reverie.
Yóu Lìng paused for a moment, looking up at Ming He. Her gaze flickered across Qin Chu Yi, then settled on their intertwined hands, filled with both envy and bitterness, dissipating into nothingness. “So, you came!”
She sighed deeply, her tone familiar as if she were catching up with an old friend, but they both knew they had never been close friends, nor would they ever be.
They were sworn enemies of life and death, determined by the heavenly way from the moment Ming He arrived at the Tianwu Continent.
It might even go back further, to the moment Mu Chen fell into darkness.
They could have been close friends all along.
“There’s no need for that; it’s my own choice not to live.” Yóu Lìng chuckled lightly. “You think too much. I want to die not because of the human race and definitely not because of you.”
She looked at Ming He, her eyes sparkling with a smile.
She had once been the fifth inheritor chosen by the heavenly way, while Ming He had now become the true fifth inheritor.
Thus, she had to die.
“I want to have a match with you, using swords.” Yóu Lìng spoke with her head lowered, her expression unreadable, her voice clear. “Is that okay?”
A match using swords.
Ming He was taken aback, just as Nineteen, who was born into a thriving Swordsmanship clan, preferred formation mastery. Yóu Lìng, being a direct descendant of the Soul Clan, was destined to be the future Soul Master, yet her true aspiration was Swordsmanship.
No one among the Soul Clan practiced great paths other than soul mastery; if she wished to cultivate Swordsmanship, she would have to figure it out herself or wait until her coming of age ceremony, when she would be allowed to leave Soul Village to find a master of Swordsmanship.
Unfortunately, the talented descendants of the Soul Clan fell before their coming of age ceremonies, before they could find a master.
The one who survived was Yóu Lìng.
“I actually don’t like this name,” Yóu Lìng said leisurely, “but it was given to me by the noble, so I can’t help but accept it.”
“Ming He, let’s begin.” She waved her hand and inexplicably produced a sword, grasping it firmly as she stood tall, her demeanor suddenly shifting to the sharpness and intensity of a sword cultivator.
Ming He had once remarked that Yóu Lìng did not understand Swordsmanship; now it seemed she might have been wrong.
Yóu Lìng’s talent in Swordsmanship was perhaps on par with her own.
Ming He’s pupils constricted, not because of the sudden sharp aura emanating from Yóu Lìng, but because of the sword she held.
It was about three feet long, crystal clear, with an unsharpened tip, entirely green. It was unmistakably her bamboo sword.
The bamboo sword Xie Xiaojing had given her in Chang Gui City.
The bamboo sword she had used for months while fleeing and fighting off pursuers.
The bamboo sword that Mu Qian had broken and that fell into the bloodied ground.
How could it be in Yóu Lìng’s hands?
Ming He’s gaze hardened, and in the next moment, she exhaled sharply. No, that wasn’t her bamboo sword.
That was a sword identical to her original bamboo sword, made of bamboo too, but not the Emerald Bamboo from Qingbi Mountain in the Eastern Region.
This was Yóu Lìng’s bamboo sword.
The girl in black with the black wolf mask had slightly bent her body, her masked face reflecting glimmers of expectation and excitement from within her eyes.
That might have been her last flicker of light.
The last vestiges of youthful spirit remaining with the genius of the Soul Clan.
“Qing Yue, I challenge you.” She declared.
Ming He trembled; Yóu Lìng was the name gifted to her by the noble of the other races, meaning ghost. Living like a ghost was for the sake of revenge.
But now she said her name was Qing Yue.
Qing Yue, identical to Qing Feng’s "qing".
A member of the Soul Clan, Senior Brother Qing Feng’s kin.
In the Soul Clan, the last name was ‘Zuo’.
So, Yóu Lìng’s original name was Zuo Qingyue.
