Chapter 80

Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW

Chapter 80: Intense Battle at Mo Ze

"Whoosh!"

A burst of blue flames suddenly erupted on the distant edge of the azure sky, accompanied by a thunderous explosion that scattered blue light like falling stars.

"What is this…?" Ming He paused, her gaze fixed on the horizon with a puzzled expression. Was it some kind of signal? But she couldn’t decipher its meaning.

"This is a distress signal from a city under attack," Mu Qian, standing beside her, narrowed his eyes. "It’s the other race! This direction points to Mo Ze City—the other race is launching a surprise assault on Mo Ze City!"

The young man’s expression darkened, and he made a swift decision. "Junior Sister Ming He, I must go to support Mo Ze City. You should return to the sect first."

The Domain Lord’s mansion had decreed that cultivators below the Wind Master realm were not permitted to engage the other race.

Yet the onslaught of the other race was relentless. In a life-and-death struggle, even those without cultivation would take up arms, for the fall of a city was too great a loss.

A fallen city meant death and ruin, its once vibrant spirit extinguished, and the human race would suffer another defeat in their war against the other race.

This imbalance would ripple through the battlefield of the heavens, affecting the fortunes and resolve of human cultivators.

In his urgency, Mu Qian didn’t wait for Ming He’s reply. His figure shot forward like an arrow, vanishing swiftly from her sight.

The other race.

Ming He’s mind flashed to the grotesque creatures she had encountered in the Liu Yun Mountains—ugly, savage, and brutish. Her Master had called them the Tian Yan Tribe, the lowest tier of the other race.

She glanced toward the Floating Cloud Sect, then back at the inferno behind her. The flames consumed everything, a method the other race favored to obliterate human cities after their conquest.

Ming He clenched her fist. Her dream was to stand atop a mountain and gaze upon the world. With her cultivation still at the Dust Dispersal stage, the other race seemed distant from her concerns. But she was Qu Lingyun’s disciple.

She tightened her grip on her sword, recalling Qu Lingyun’s words about the essence of a sword cultivator: unwavering resolve, unyielding spirit, the sword as an extension of the heart, capable of traversing the heavens and earth.

Yet now, with the other race running rampant, where was this vast world she dreamed of?

Ming He exhaled deeply, her resolve firming as she raised her gaze. Clad in blue, she moved like the wind, leaping gracefully through the azure sky, shifting to a new space in mere moments.

The sky remained a pristine blue, but beneath it, the serene beauty of the Floating Cloud Sect was gone. Broken walls, bloodied armor, and the clamor of battle replaced the songs of birds. The green grass was littered with heads—both human and other race.

Ming He’s eyes swept over the dense crowd of human cultivators gathered below the city. After a moment, she spotted Mu Qian through the familiar aura of their sect.

The young man, once clad in immaculate white, was now stained with blood, his face splattered with crimson. His long sword sliced through the air, striking at the necks of the other race, but their natural defenses held firm. Though he held the upper hand, it was a precarious advantage.

Outnumbered and outmatched, the human cultivators were not engaged in fair duels. Even superior skill could not stave off exhaustion and death.

“Clang!”

Ming He’s sword intercepted the claws of an other race creature lunging at Mu Qian from behind. With a swift counter, she severed another claw, her momentum unbroken as she spun her blade in the air. Sword intent and energy merged, illuminating the eyes of her foe.

When she sheathed her sword, another head rolled to the ground. Her blue robes remained pristine, a testament to her composure amidst the chaos.

“Junior Sister Ming He,” Mu Qian called as he beheaded another enemy. He turned to her, his gaze complex.

Ming He offered a faint smile, her emotions veiled. “I am also of the human race.” She blocked another claw aimed at Mu Qian’s heart, sparks flying as sword met claw. “We’ll talk after the battle.”

With a sharp cry, she darted away from Mu Qian, her sword flashing as she saved a fellow cultivator from the clutches of the other race. She pulled him to safety and stepped forward to face the enemy, her eyes sharp, her sword steady. Blood painted the air as she danced through the battlefield at Mo Ze City, her blade striking true with unwavering precision.

The other race’s assault on Mo Ze City had been sudden. On the battlefield, cultivators of varying skill fought alongside armored city guards, sect disciples, and rogue cultivators. The powerful allies of the city lord clashed with the other race’s strongest, but for now, the enemies they faced were not overwhelmingly powerful, allowing for a fighting retreat.

Yet as time dragged on, some cultivators began to exhaust their spiritual energy, and the direness of their situation became clear.

“Whoosh.”

Ming He dodged the claw of an other race creature, raising her sword to block. Just as she prepared to strike, a glint of cold light flashed behind her. She sensed danger.

In an instant, she leaped into the air, executing a Falling Balance maneuver. The fierce sword light repelled the advancing enemy, and with the tip of her blade, she kicked up bloodstained dust, obscuring the foe’s vision as she retreated—not in fear, but with purpose.

Luoheng Sword, "luo" meaning to fall, and "heng" meaning balance.

She steadied herself in the air, using her falling momentum to deliver a powerful strike to the head of the other race. Blood sprayed, yet the enemy still clung to life.

"Die!" Ming He muttered under her breath, her nearly numb hand gripping the Longquan Sword with unyielding determination. A surge of killing intent, intertwined with sword energy, erupted as she brought the sword down. It descended like a divine judgment from the heavens, carrying the righteous essence of the Great Path, and struck the enemy’s chest. With a final blow, the enemy’s head tumbled to the ground.

Ming He frowned. After nearly half an hour, she had only managed to kill two enemies, and her spiritual energy was dwindling to a mere thirty percent. If this continued, Mo Ze City would inevitably fall.

Unless reinforcements arrived.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The war drums resounded over Mo Ze City, their rhythm carrying a deliberate message. As Ming He pondered the meaning of the drums, Mu Qian, drenched in blood, appeared before her in a flash. "Junior Sister Ming He, we can’t hold the battlefield outside any longer. We must retreat into the city."

"Understood," Ming He replied with a nod. She swung her sword horizontally, unleashing a wave of sword energy that forced the enemies back. Turning, she parried incoming attacks while retreating toward the city, her sword dripping with blood and her gaze sharp as a blade.

"Bang!" The heavy city gates slammed shut under the weight of the enemy’s advancing footsteps. Ming He followed Mu Qian up the city wall and looked down to see the other race retreating, felling trees from the deep forest to erect makeshift barriers between the city and the open ground. Their intent to storm the city was unmistakable.

"First, recover your spiritual energy," Mu Qian said, handing Ming He a porcelain bottle. "These are recovery elixirs. Take a few pills. The battle is far from over."

He didn’t offer any words of gratitude to Ming He. His decision to support Mo Ze City was his own, and Ming He’s presence beside him reflected the same choice. Their shared resolve to protect the human race needed no explanation.

Ming He’s eyes flickered briefly, but she didn’t refuse. "Thank you, Brother Mu," she said, her tone calm but tinged with the urgency of battle. She poured three round, snow-white pills into her palm and swallowed them, then accepted the porcelain bottle back from Mu Qian with a nod.

She wasn’t short on pills, but since Mu Qian had offered, she didn’t decline. Ming He understood the importance of mutual aid in relationships.

"Mu Qian!" A voice filled with joy called out from a distance. A young man, his face streaked with blood and a sword held across his chest, approached. He had clearly just returned from the battlefield outside the city.

"Lu Yuan," Mu Qian said, his expression brightening as if greeting a dear friend. "What brings you here?"

"I was on a sect mission for training when I saw the blue distress signal. It wasn’t far, so I came," Lu Yuan replied with a smile, stopping before the two. "You’re here too?"

"I…" Mu Qian began, but before he could finish, several more voices rang out in surprise.

"Fang Xia, Qu Zhu, what are you doing here?" Mu Qian’s joy was unmistakable.

Ming He glanced up curiously to see a young man and woman approaching, their faces alight with the happiness of reuniting with old friends.

"Mu Qian," Fang Xia said, stepping forward and playfully punching his chest. "It’s been a while." Her smile was warm and gentle.

"Long time no see," Mu Qian replied, his eyes glistening. "I’m glad we met today." No one else would fall to the other race’s hands.

"By the way, who’s this?" Lu Yuan asked, turning to Ming He with a questioning look.

"This is my fellow disciple, Junior Sister Ming He," Mu Qian said without hesitation, his tone warm. "Ming He, these are my good friends—Lu Yuan, Fang Xia, and Qu Zhu."

He hoped Ming He could forge bonds with them, but he didn’t notice the sudden chill in their expressions. "Ming He? The one at the top of the Young Tiger List?"

Lu Yuan’s voice turned icy. "You’re Qu Lingyun’s disciple?"

The hostility in his tone was unmistakable, and the others regarded Ming He with complex gazes.

Mu Qian hesitated, suddenly recalling the initial connection he had with Ming He. Not everyone shared his indifference.

"I am," Ming He replied firmly. "My Master is Qu Lingyun. I am a disciple of the Liu Yun Sect of the Ninth Continent from the Eastern Region." She saw no reason to hide her identity.

"Qu Lingyun’s disciple?" Lu Yuan sneered, his eyes reddening as his emotions flared. "I don’t hold anything against you personally, but I won’t stand alongside a disciple of Qu Lingyun. Farewell."

His farewell was directed at Mu Qian. Without another word, he turned and walked to the other side of the city wall. The other two cast lingering glances at Ming He before silently following, their unwillingness to associate with her clear.

"Junior Sister Ming He, I’m sorry," Mu Qian said apologetically.

"Do they hate me just because I’m Qu Lingyun’s disciple?" Ming He asked, her voice tinged with frustration. "Because they think my Master made a mistake back then, don’t they?"

“No.” Mu Qian remained silent for a long time before looking up, his eyes red. “We all know that Qu Lingyun is a sword cultivator. Whenever a sword cultivator acts, they only follow their heart. If they feel it is right, no amount of words from others can sway them.”

And thus, if a sword cultivator falls into madness, it becomes the most lethal of pains.

“They are simply struggling to let go. Junior Sister Ming He, you must allow some people to have different thoughts.” Mu Qian took a deep breath. “Back when the Demon Race and the human race formed an alliance, the Demon Race proposed three conditions. Do you know what those conditions were?”

“I don’t know.” Ming He exhaled slowly. Qin Chu Yi only mentioned that the Demon Race had proposed three exceedingly harsh conditions before agreeing to the alliance, but she didn’t elaborate on what those conditions were, and Ming He hadn’t asked.

“One of the conditions from the Demon Race was the fruit of life and death from the Valley of Life and Death,” Mu Qian gazed into the distance. “The Valley of Life and Death is the most perilous of the ten Absolute Death Zones on the Tianwu Continent, where danger lurks at every turn. Fierce beasts, venomous nightmares, and the cycle of reincarnation… no cultivator who enters ever returns alive.”

“The fruit of life and death grows at the top of the life and death tree and bears fruit once every thousand years. According to ancient records, it can revive the dead and restore flesh to bones; it is truly a miraculous item that brings people back to life, though no one knows if the legends are true.”

Mu Qian smiled lightly, “One of the conditions from the Demon Race was for the human race to retrieve a fruit of life and death from the Valley of Life and Death. Do you understand now, Junior Sister Ming He?”

The amusement on his face was tinged with deep sarcasm. “The Valley of Life and Death is bound by the principles of the Great Path and natural dangers, making it impossible for cultivators above the Wind Master realm to enter. For those below the Wind Master realm, returning safely with the fruit is merely a fool’s dream; it is utterly impossible.

The Demon Race never intended to form an alliance; they simply had no choice but to refuse under the pressure of the three races’ balance of power.”

“But what could the human race do? The human race is too weak. Without the Demon Race’s help, they could only be slaughtered by the other races, leaving them with no choice, absolutely no choice.

The Demon Race demanded the fruit of life and death, and the human race had to comply, undertaking the impossible. If one person couldn’t do it, then a group would go.”

Mu Qian chuckled and continued, “The human race issued a death decree and formed a death squad composed of cultivators below the Wind Master realm, regardless of their backgrounds or strengths, exchanging their lives for what they would later obtain.

They could choose their reward—anything within the five regions, anything the human race could provide, they would give freely. If they returned alive, they would gain power and influence; if they perished, their descendants could enter great sects and study under renowned teachers, and their families would rise in status, no longer comparable to their former selves.”

Enter great sects, study under renowned teachers.

Ming He’s expression shifted slightly, so…

“Yes, just as you think.” Mu Qian nodded. “My father was a member of the death squad. When the death decree was issued, my father was thirty years old. He had originally made a living as a fisherman at sea and, by sheer luck, embarked on the path of cultivation, stumbling and progressing through the Dust Dispersal stage. When he joined the death squad, he had reached Dust Dispersal Stage Four, the same cultivation level as mine now.”

The young man’s smile faded slightly, as if he felt a mix of pride for his father and the weight of his father’s sacrifices. “There were a total of one hundred and three members in the death squad. One hundred and three entered the Valley of Life and Death, and in the end, only one brought back the fruit. That person was my father.”

“He walked out alive, but he didn’t live on. What sustained him was the fruit he held in his hand; he couldn’t let the lives of the others be sacrificed in vain—one hundred and three lives. So, he had to deliver the fruit to the human cultivators, ensuring he could close his eyes in peace.”

“My mother died before my father, killed by the other race. That is why my father resolutely joined the death squad, not only to secure a bright future for me.

After my father died, the Floating Cloud Sect raised me until I was seven, told me about my parents, and then asked if I wanted to cultivate.

Elder Zheng, my Master, said that if I chose not to cultivate, the Floating Cloud Sect could protect me for my whole life. As long as the sect exists, I wouldn’t have to worry about making a living; I could live a life of luxury and leisure.

But if I chose to cultivate, the Floating Cloud Sect couldn’t guarantee my safety for my entire life, because mortals can be protected by cultivators, but cultivators must protect mortals.

You know my choice.”

Ming He lowered her gaze, unsure of what to say. “Brother Mu chose to cultivate.” Her voice was a bit hoarse.

“Yes, I chose to cultivate. I want to protect mortals, and even more, I want to kill the other races. That was my father’s dream, and it will also be the lifelong target of my sword.”

“Lu Yuan, Fang Xia, Qu Zhu—their elders were all members of the death squad, which is why they entered great sects, just like me, seeking to kill the other races as their lifetime goal. That is why they cannot let it go; they cannot let go of the agreement that cost so many lives, shattered because of your Master.”

“If the young leader of the Demon Race hadn’t died back then, if the Demon Race had allied with the human race at that opportune moment, perhaps…”

A light shone on the young man’s face, “Perhaps the invading enemies could have been completely expelled from the Tianwu Continent, but without the ‘perhaps,’ your Master indeed ruined the best opportunity, and later convincing the Demon Race to take action became too late.”

His gaze was clear. “In truth, everyone knows that there is no ‘perhaps.’ Defeating the enemies at that prime opportunity was not a certainty, merely delayed because the great battle was postponed.

Because it did not occur as scheduled, too many humans have died in these twenty years, and thus the survivors, battered and bloodied, inevitably dream of a beautiful sky and a clear moon after the extermination of the other races.

And such beauty may have been ruined by Qu Lingyun, so hating your Master does not seem that hard to understand.”

“But I do not hate Shishu Qu!” Mu Qian turned his gaze to the blue sky, his voice bright. “When you asked me if I thought Shishu Qu was right or wrong, I told you it was either, and now I can tell you why I answered that way.”

The youth’s bright eyes sparkled like stars against the daylight. “Wielding a sword to eradicate demons and eliminate injustices is not wrong; the lives of a group of people matter just as much as the life of one. Shishu Qu was merely too weak; he was too weak, I am too weak, we are all too weak.”

He looked down. “The human race is too small! If we were strong enough, what would the other races fear? What would the Demon Race seek? Back then, the Lord of the Central Region definitely would have protected Shishu Qu; I believe he had the same thoughts.”

“Yet not everyone thinks this way, Junior Sister Ming He. They do not hate your Master; they simply find it hard to let go.”

He drew his sword and struck, severing the head of a Demon Race member who had leaped over the city wall. “That fruit of life and death is actually of no use at all.” It could not save the young leader of the Demon Race, and it was even less effective than the earthly-grade recovery elixir in his hand; the ancient records were merely that—records.

Yet those records led to the sacrifice of one hundred and three lives.

The young man leaped among the armored guards on the city wall, wielding his sword against the advancing enemies, his relaxed demeanor shining brightly like the sun, his righteousness concealing a deep-seated anger.

At that moment, Ming He looked at Mu Qian’s back and thought that this must be what the Haoran Sword Dao is like.