Chapter 47

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Chapter 47: Confronting a Monster

Ming He’s pupils trembled in shock. "I truly had no idea," she admitted. She had merely gone into seclusion; how could the world have changed so drastically in the eyes of this inner sect disciple? The Hehuan Sect? Had she somehow wronged them?

Her mind flashed to Ji Wu Xu, clad in fiery red, her lips curling into a cold, mocking smile. "What exactly happened? Please, tell me everything. I’m quite curious," Ming He said, her tone gentle as she addressed the inner sect disciple.

The inner sect disciple hesitated. "Su, the inherited disciple, is… intimidating," he thought to himself.

"It’s like this…" The disciple quickly spilled out everything he knew before hastily excusing himself.

It wasn’t fear, exactly. It was just that the aura radiating from Su, the inherited disciple, was overwhelming. Yes, that was it. The inner sect disciple justified his retreat with this excuse and hurried off to attend to his own affairs.

The Hehuan Sect? Ming He let out a derisive laugh, her voice dripping with scorn.

The situation was straightforward enough. Ji Wu Xu had sworn a Blood Oath, ensuring that no member of the Demon Race could harm Ming He until she reached the Wind Master realm. But the Hehuan Sect, though not part of the Demon Race, served them. Using the Hehuan Sect to target her didn’t violate Ji Wu Xu’s Blood Oath.

Truly, the young leader of the Demon Race was as vindictive as ever! Ming He snorted. But why did the Hehuan Sect obey the Demon Race?

She sifted through the fading memories of the original plot and found her answer: the Hehuan Sect had been the eternal servants of the nine-tailed fox clan within the Demon Race. The Hehuan Formula they practiced had been created by the Ji clan of the Demon Race.

Ji Wu Xu’s true form was that of a nine-tailed fox, so her earlier tactics—enchantment and illusion techniques—were the innate abilities of her clan.

Ming He’s thoughts wandered as she inwardly scorned the Hehuan Sect. Why would humans willingly become the lackeys of the Demon Race? What a waste.

But what about her Master’s assault on the Hehuan Sect? According to the inner sect disciple, young master Zheng Qi had led the Hehuan Sect to pressure Liu Yun Sect into handing her over, only to be driven back by her Master with a single sword.

The matter should have ended there. So why had her Master then taken the fight to the Hehuan Sect? Was it to avenge her, or to send a warning? Ming He’s thoughts raced, and she soon pieced it together, feeling a flicker of gratitude.

When she had first become a disciple, it had been purely for the sake of gaining power. But the Sect Master had truly taken her under his wing. In the cultivation world, the bond between teacher and disciple was sacred, often surpassing even familial ties.

The Sect Master and the sect had given her more support than her own half-hearted family ever had. Though Yun Zhao Feng might sneer at her weakness, he would still draw his sword to protect her in critical moments, just as Qin Chu Yi had.

And now, her Master had not only shielded her but also struck back at the Hehuan Sect. Lou Qing Shang had even gifted her a bag of nebula stones and a Merchants’ Guild token.

It seemed she had joined an extraordinary sect.

Ming He gazed at the familiar surroundings, her eyes bright as inner sect disciples passed by, offering respectful greetings. She was an inherited disciple of Liu Yun Sect, after all.

But could her Master truly take on the elders of the Hehuan Sect alone? The question dawned on her belatedly. The inner sect disciple had mentioned that young master Zheng Qi, along with others from the Hehuan Sect, had been repelled by her Master with a single sword.

One person. One sword.

Her Master’s cultivation was far beyond what she had imagined.

After driving them back, her Master had seized the opportunity to press the attack, storming the Hehuan Sect not only to avenge her but also to issue a warning and bolster Liu Yun Sect’s reputation.

Ming He’s eyes gleamed as she recalled the ancient texts she had once perused in the Liu Yun Sect’s library. The library was a vast repository of knowledge, filled with records of nearly extinct creatures, spirit fruits, and secret techniques from ancient times.

It was a true treasure trove, an ocean of wisdom that spanned the ages.

But the Liu Yun Sect was merely a small sect nestled in Luoyin City, within the ninth prefecture of the Eastern Region. How could it possibly possess such an extensive collection of ancient texts?

There was also the Flickering Light, the Nebula Sword Art, and Lou Qing Shang, along with her Master, the Sect Master of the Liu Yun Sect.

Ming He knew that Qin Chu Yi was the Young Master of the most prestigious family in this world, and it seemed her Master was aware of this as well.

But while Ming He knew this from the original plot, how did her Master come to know? It must have been Qin Chu Yi who revealed it to him.

If her Master were merely the Sect Master of the Liu Yun Sect, Qin Chu Yi would never have disclosed his identity. The noble families were far too proud to lower themselves and befriend others so easily.

The Hehuan Sect was the foremost sect in Luoyin City, with a Sect Master whose cultivation was at least at the Wind Master realm, not to mention the Vice Sect Master and the other elders and deacons.

Yet her own Master dared to confront them alone, armed with nothing but a single sword.

As Ming He quietly sorted through her thoughts, she suddenly realized that she had never truly seen her Master clearly. With his wide sleeves billowing, he stood upon the clouds—a feat that required at least the cultivation of the Wind Master realm.

So, had Lou Qing Shang chosen to become his disciple solely because of his worthiness?

Ming He’s gaze darkened as she activated her footwork and headed toward the sect’s exit. She wanted to see what was happening at the Hehuan Sect.

If her Master could defeat them, she would flaunt her strength; if he couldn’t… Ming He’s lips curled into a faint smile. Then she would simply blow up the Hehuan Sect.

After all, she had the Sword Breaking Talisman. If she was going to cause chaos, she might as well make it grand and thrilling.

As she plotted her escape route after the explosion, her figure darted through the trees like the wind, leaping across the treetops of the Liu Yun Mountains. At times, her feet barely grazed the ground, her movements as fluid as a bird soaring freely through the skies.

Once she reached the Wind Master realm, she would be able to ride the wind and walk upon the clouds. Ming He channeled her spiritual energy into her feet, envisioning the freedom that would come with breaking through to the Wind Master realm. In just a few breaths, she had already covered a considerable distance.

“Su, the inherited disciple! Is that you?” A panicked voice suddenly rang out through the woods, trembling with fear yet tinged with a glimmer of hope.

Ming He halted and looked up to see a Young Man in the tattered white robes of an inner sect disciple from the Liu Yun Sect, stumbling toward her. His clothes were torn and bloodied, clearly injured.

“I’m Ming He. What happened?” Ming He stopped and reached out to steady the disciple, her voice calm and gentle.

“Monsters! There are monsters!” The inner sect disciple gasped, his voice shaking with terror. “We… We accepted a task from the task hall to slay beasts and retrieve their inner cores. After taking the mission, I went into the Liu Yun Mountains with a few of my brothers.

We had already slain enough beasts and were preparing to return to the sect to complete the mission when, out of nowhere, several shadows appeared.

They stole the inner cores and killed the brother who confronted them. We fought back, but we were no match for those monsters.

My brothers told me to flee and inform the elders, so I ran. I don’t even know if they’re still alive!” The Young Man spoke in fragments, his face pale with fear and panic.

“They’re monsters—they’re not of the human race!” His voice was filled with uncontainable dread. “I’ve never seen anything like them before. They… they’re incredibly strong. I don’t know their cultivation level, but their speed and reflexes are far beyond anything we can handle.”

Monsters?

A sharp glint flashed in Ming He’s eyes. “Where are they?”

“Su, the inherited disciple, you…” The Young Man in tattered robes hesitated, his face twisting with fear. “No, you’re no match for them. You’ll die.”

Though he was worried about his brothers’ safety, he didn’t want to see someone else throw their life away needlessly. He couldn’t imagine Ming He surviving against those monsters.

“Su, the inherited disciple, your cultivation is slightly higher than mine. Please, go and find the elders first. Maybe… maybe there’s still a chance to save my brothers.” He lowered his head, his words tinged with self-deception.

“Tell me where they are!” Ming He’s voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

“To the southeast.” The Young Man met her unwavering gaze and, for some reason, felt a chill run down his spine. He found himself revealing the direction almost involuntarily.

“Alright.” Ming He handed him a bottle of pills. “You return to the sect and bring back help. I’ll go. Even if I can’t save them, I’ll do my best to buy time.”

“Thank you, fellow disciple.” Ming He offered the Young Man a faint smile. As an inherited disciple, there were certain responsibilities she had to fulfill.

With that, Ming He turned and continued toward the southeast. Monsters? She was eager to see what kind of creatures could terrify a Spirit Guiding fifth level cultivator to such an extent.

A moment later, Ming He continued her journey southeast and arrived at an empty forest, where she encountered the monsters described by the inner sect disciple in white.

Standing eight feet tall, with the broad shoulders of a tiger and the sturdy waist of a bear, the twisted forms of the shadows were grotesquely ugly, their breaths thick and murky. This was not the murkiness of ordinary humans who had yet to tread the path of cultivation, but rather that of beings from uncivilized, barbaric lands.

Their movements were unimaginable to a normal person—hunched yet unnaturally agile. Their attacks were entirely unlike those of the human race, resembling the instinctive strikes of beasts, using all four limbs in unison.

Their green eyes were hairless, their faces covered in fur, and their roars echoed like guttural growls from beasts—not sounds produced by vocal cords, but rather noises forced from deep within their bellies.

Most unsettling was the single vertical eye on each monster’s forehead. Though currently closed, it radiated an aura that sent shivers down the spine, instilling fear in any who dared to look.

They were neither human nor beast; the only word to describe them was "monsters."

One of the monsters held a half-eaten demon core, tearing it apart. The other half was either devoured or lost in the chaos of battle, with only a smear of blood staining its lips, making it appear even more monstrous and terrifying.

A group of inner sect disciples from Liu Yun Sect, clad in white robes adorned with cloud embroidery, found themselves encircled by these creatures. They gripped their swords tightly, their faces betraying panic and the fear of death, yet they knew that fear would serve no purpose now.

Their only hope lay in the swords they held, so they clenched them firmly, their eyes sharp and vigilant. Though their hands trembled with anxiety, their wrists remained steady.

“Hold on! Zhao, the inner sect disciple, has gone back to summon reinforcements!” one of them called out in a low voice, trying to rally the others.

The monsters let out a mocking laugh, their expressions dripping with scorn. They fell silent as they savagely shoved the demon core into their mouths, chewing and swallowing it raw—a primitive and bloody act.

They were monsters, yet they possessed intelligence.

As Ming He observed them, her heart sank. She concluded that their origins must be dire. She rested her hand on the hilt of her sword, her unease growing as she watched the blood drip from the monsters’ lips.

“Roar!”

After swallowing the demon core, one of the monsters let out a harsh, grating sound and lunged at the inner sect disciples from Liu Yun Sect, moving with the agility of a shadow.

“Fight!”

The disciple who had been encouraging the others roared and raised his sword to meet the monster. The sword tip surged with sword energy, carrying the sharpness of a sword cultivator, but when it struck the monster’s skin, it felt as though it had hit an impenetrable barrier, unable to advance further.

“Clang—!”

Ming He sprang into action, using her footwork to propel herself upward. With the added force from kicking off a tree, she descended from above, her sword slicing through the monster’s outstretched hand, which had been aiming for a disciple’s chest. A series of metallic screeches rang out as her sword seemed to cut through something as unyielding as steel.

“Su, the inherited disciple!” one of the disciples exclaimed, recognizing Ming He with a mix of relief and excitement.

“Stay calm! The elders are on their way. Just hold on a little longer!” Ming He called out, her peripheral vision catching a disciple being struck by a monster’s palm and sent flying. She swiftly moved to intercept the monster’s next attack.

“Are you alright?” Ming He asked, pulling the injured disciple to safety several meters to the right. The spot where the disciple had been lying was now a crater, crushed by the monster’s stomp.

Had a person been there, they would have been killed or crippled.

Ming He slashed through the air, channeling sword energy into her sword tip as she executed the Cloud Burst technique, sweeping it horizontally to temporarily drive back the surrounding monsters. Her narrowed eyes were filled with deep apprehension.

Incredible speed, swift reflexes, unbreakable defenses, and ferocious attacks—these monsters were even more formidable than beasts.

“I’m fine,” the disciple Ming He had saved muttered, spitting out blood as he struggled to his feet. He stepped back, determined not to be a burden, and gripped his sword tightly, his gaze sharp and resolute.

Fortunately, the monsters seemed in no hurry to finish them off. They encircled Ming He and the other disciples with an air of arrogance and dominance, their faces twisted into mocking smiles as blood and saliva dripped from their open mouths.

“Disgusting,” Ming He muttered under her breath as she lunged forward, engaging the monsters once more.

She knew this wasn’t the time to take the offensive; her priority should be to remain calm and stall for time until the elders arrived. Yet she couldn’t help herself—no one could remain composed in the face of such blatant contempt.

It was a gaze of pure disdain, the look of those who stood above, gazing down at the insignificant ants below.

Though undeniably repulsive and grotesque, how could they hold such a sense of superiority over the human race?

Ming He couldn’t understand it. All she knew was that facing those eyes ignited an unnameable fire within her—a heat that burned not from her spirit, but from deep within her chest.

It was as if an inherent defiance resided within every member of the human race.

Driven by this defiance, they rose to resist.

Liu Yun Sword Art, Unsheathing Style, Flickering Light, Nebula Sword Art.

Ming He gripped her sword, unleashing every technique she had mastered, driven by sheer instinct rather than fatigue. When her sword tip failed to pierce their defenses, she resorted to shockwaves, and when that proved insufficient, she turned to other methods.

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a disciple seized by a monster, its hand piercing through his chest, crimson blood spilling across the ground as his body was torn apart, a brutal end to his life.

“Brother Ji!” a disciple from Liu Yun Sect cried out in anguish, charging at the monster with unbridled fury, determined to fight even if his arms were ripped apart, vowing to tear a chunk of flesh from the beast.

The stench of decay assaulted the disciple’s senses, but he refused to yield, his eyes burning with the pain of losing a comrade and the searing hatred of vengeance, cold as ice yet fierce as flame.

“Outrageous!” Ming He watched as the disciple who had bitten into the monster was struck from behind by another beast, collapsing beside Brother Ji, his eyes wide open, refusing to close even in death.

He died with unseeing eyes.

He had just called her Su, the inherited disciple, and moments ago, hope had still flickered in his gaze.

Ming He’s vision blurred as she watched a monster trample over his lifeless body, a surge of rage igniting within her chest. For the first time, she felt such profound anger over another’s life and death.

“Liu Yun!” She shifted her sword’s trajectory, executing a relentless stream of Liu Yun techniques to drive the monsters back, then pressed forward. With Phantom Steps, she closed the distance to the nearest monster, her sharp long sword slicing through its right arm before she retreated, just as the beast let out a guttural roar.

“Not enough!” she hissed, raising her sword once more. They would all die.

“To hell with you!”

Fueled by fury, Ming He swung her sword forward, only for a monster to deflect it, sending her stumbling. The other monsters, seeing this, abandoned their other targets and converged on her, attacking with fists, claws, and feet, intent on ending her life.

Other disciples tried to aid her, but they couldn’t breach the monsters’ defenses, left helpless as they watched her take a brutal blow to the face, blood staining her features.

“Puh!”

Ming He turned her head, spitting blood onto the monster that had drawn too close, a cold, mocking smile on her lips.

Take her life? Even Mu Xuan Ye, Left Envoy of the demon race, had failed. Ji Wu Xu, young leader of the demon race, had also failed. Who did these creatures think they were?

She staggered to her feet, raising her sword high. No one was worthy of claiming her life!

“Nebula Sword Art, First Style, Liu Yun.” She lifted her sword, its tip summoning the vast forces of heaven and earth, the blade flowing like endless clouds, crashing down as a monster’s left arm fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

“Nebula Sword Art, Second Style, Lonely Star.” Shifting her stance, Ming He whispered hoarsely, her gaze filled with unyielding pride and resolve. The sword cultivator in blue, each step leaving a bloody imprint, struck forward, her blade piercing the monster’s defenses, severing the veins in its neck and exposing the green tendons beneath. Her white long sword turned crimson, a testament to her achievement—half-step sword intent.

Outside Liu Yun Sect, a scholarly figure dressed in flowing blue robes, fan in hand and headscarf tied neatly, strolled leisurely on a cloud toward the sect’s entrance.

The wind billowed his robes as he moved with effortless grace. “What talent in the Ninth Continent could possibly surpass the disciples of Floating Cloud Sect? I find it hard to believe.”

He murmured to himself, taking a sip of spiritual wine and sighing contentedly. But in the next moment, his expression shifted as he sensed a surge of energy. “Spirit Guiding stage nine levels, sword intent of heaven and earth, first-stage sword intent!”

“Which major sect’s disciple has come to this remote corner to experience life? How could they be so extraordinary?” He extended his spiritual sense toward the source, only to recoil in alarm. “Foreign race!”

“How could a foreign race appear here?” His face darkened with concern, but he knew there was no time to ponder. Every second wasted could mean another life lost.

“Nebula Sword Art, Third Style, Nebula!” Ming He barely had the strength to think the name of the technique before unleashing it.

Her energy was nearly spent, her grip on the sword faltering, yet the danger remained.

Two inner sect disciples of Liu Yun Sect had fallen, while the monsters had only suffered minor injuries. How could she accept such a loss?

She had vowed to send them to hell!

And she would keep her word; she never went back on her promises.

Ming He bit her lip, using the pain to sharpen her focus, then slowly raised her sword, holding it horizontally before her. The monsters, perhaps intent on humiliating her or curious to witness her final struggle, hesitated to deliver the killing blow.

“Fools!” she rasped, her voice dry and strained, a faint smile curling her lips. “If you won’t kill me, then I’ll kill you.” She laughed inwardly, swinging her sword forward with a force as swift as lightning, its impact resonating like thunder, carrying the weight of the cosmos.

This was the power of heaven and earth—a strike born of Ming He’s sword intent of heaven and earth, flowing starlight, and the Great Path. It was her strongest attack yet, a convergence of half-step sword intent breaking through to true sword intent.

The third realm of swordsmanship: sword intent.

After the strike, Ming He could no longer stand, collapsing backward onto the ground, her weary eyes struggling to stay open. She saw the monster that had faced her blade cleaved in two, its foul blood staining the sky, already dead.

But four monsters remained; she had only killed one.

Ming He let out a bitter laugh, feeling utterly powerless. Her bloodied right hand trembled as she reached for the Sword Breaking Talisman hidden in her robes, channeling the last dregs of her spiritual energy.

Nineteen had warned that activating the talisman would drain half her energy, but now she had nothing left to give. She wondered what power it would unleash. It had to work.

After all, the monsters, though strong, were no match for the Wind Master realm.

It was a shame about the talisman. She had hoped to save it as her trump card.

Ming He’s thoughts drifted as she gazed at the approaching monsters, a faint smile forming as she prepared to activate the Sword Breaking Talisman. Just then, she heard a voice—a melody to her ears in this dire moment.

The voice commanded, “Beast, know your place!”

Then she saw a brilliant sword light slicing through the sky. Ming He exhaled in relief, allowing herself to slip into unconsciousness. Help had arrived.

Good. Her trump card was still intact.