Chapter 98

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Chapter 98: Hidden Kill Intent

"Junior Sister Ming He, this is Senior Brother Lu from Fei Lai Peak and Senior Sister Xu from Illusion Peak…" Mu Qian stood beneath Chiyu Peak, watching the figures approaching swiftly, introducing Ming He. As the figures arrived before them, he smiled warmly, "Dear friends, this is Junior Sister Ming He from Luoheng Peak."

"Junior Sister Ming He," the young man holding a sword nodded slightly in greeting.

"Greetings, Senior Brother Lu," Ming He bowed slightly, then met the young man’s assessing gaze. Mu Qian had mentioned that there were exactly ten of them, and now eight had arrived, so it seemed they were nearly ready.

Lu Xiaoliang from Fei Lai Peak, Xu Xu from Illusion Peak, and Luo Qianhuan from Sound Peak… The group of eight was filled with youthful vigor, their brows carrying sharpness and enthusiasm, standing proudly under the rising sun.

These were the young geniuses of the Floating Cloud Sect, the new generation of the Eastern Region, the future strong human cultivators.

"Since all of our Senior Brothers and Sisters are here, let’s set off," Mu Qian smiled slightly and was about to initiate his steps.

"Brother Mu, don’t rush," called a young man in gray with a hearty laugh. "As you mentioned, that cave is quite far from the Floating Cloud Sect, and at our current speed, we may take quite some time."

Ming He recognized him as Wu Sanhuo, a true disciple from the Artifact Peak, skilled in the Way of Crafting.

"I have an item that can help us soar into the air and ride the winds," the youth spoke confidently. He waved his sleeve and took out a gray cloth, which caught the curious gazes of his fellow disciples. With a quick gesture, he shook the cloth, transforming it into a flying silken ribbon nearly half a courtyard wide, floating in the air and swaying with the wind.

"This item is called the Flying Sky Ribbon. I recently refined it; a cultivator can stand on it without falling, allowing us to traverse through the clouds. Although it can only be used once and I can only sustain it for half a month with my spiritual energy, I believe it will suffice."

Wu Sanhuo looked up at the high, misty clouds and smiled slightly. "Would you all like to give it a try?"

"What’s there to be afraid of? Wu Brother, you underestimate us," Lu Xiaoliang, at the Ninth Level of Dust Dispersal stage, laughed heartily as he lightly tapped his toes and ascended into the air, becoming the first to stand on the gray Flying Sky Ribbon.

"Brother Lu’s bravado makes me seem shy," Xu Xu from Illusion Peak said with a smile, following suit, and then it was Luo Qianhuan from Sound Peak, Wang Chongbai from Floating Cloud Peak… Ming He and Mu Qian took their place last, looking down upon Chiyu Peak with a sense of youthful exuberance.

"Dear friends, stand steady. We’re setting off!" Wu Sanhuo laughed heartily, channeling his spiritual energy. The Flying Sky Ribbon soared into the air like a cloud, resembling a great eagle gliding through the mist, leaving behind a faint gray shadow.

Above, the sun and moon turned majestically, revealing breathtaking beauty as the Flying Sky Ribbon flew over layers of clouds, entering a new realm beyond Floating Clouds, passing through eight days of time.

"Beyond this waterfall is the destination," Mu Qian said as he jumped off the Flying Sky Ribbon towards the distant gushing waterfall.

It was a waterfall connecting rivers and mountains, and under the sunlight, it crashed against the rocks, creating melodious sounds of nature that harmonized the mountains, waters, and clouds, appearing like a white silk ribbon from afar.

"Then let’s go." Excitement lit Lu Xiaoliang’s expression as the matter concerned opportunity and inheritance, naturally stirring strong emotions.

Ming He followed Mu Qian, stepping over the rocks and passing through the waterfall. Suddenly, the scenery before them changed dramatically: behind the waterfall was a stone cave, slightly obscured by vines, but the cobweb-covered walls revealed a sense of abandonment.

"Dear Senior Brothers and Sisters, behind this door lies the place of our ancestors’ inheritance, but my cultivation level is too low to rely solely on my power," Mu Qian spoke with a hint of shame, half of his face cast in shadow, obscure and indistinct.

"No worries." Lu Xiaoliang gazed at the stone door, where formation patterns flickered like ghosts. Moss and dark red marks coiled down, along with the images of unknown beasts with menacing black eyes fixed on them, reminiscent of a deathly gaze.

"It’s just a carving of some sort." Lu Xiaoliang chuckled lightly, unafraid. He swiftly drew his sword, and with a clash, unleashed the immense force of thunder as the sword struck the stone door.

The door echoed with a loud bang, dust falling in torrents before the vibrating blade, showing clear signs of cracking.

The stone door, which Mu Qian had struggled to break through, now swayed on the brink of collapse under Lu Xiaoliang’s sword—a display of strength from a Ninth Level Dust Dispersal cultivator, a talent of the Floating Cloud Sect.

"Clang!" Lu Xiaoliang waved his wrist casually again, and the stone door shattered. Beyond it lay a space devoid of any concealment, revealing the true nature of the inheritance.

"Mu Brother, the door is broken; from here on, chances depend on our abilities." Lu Xiaoliang stepped through the door into what was called the Ancestral Inheritance Cave, turning back to Mu Qian.

"Brother Lu, I’m afraid you won’t have a chance," Mu Qian finally raised his head, revealing a smile, but under the shadows of the cave, his expression carried a chill, flickering like a ghost.

"What do you mean?" Lu Xiaoliang frowned, puzzled by his sudden change. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"Not second thoughts," Mu Qian replied, still smiling as he glanced at the shattered stone door, certain that they were now trapped. Thus, he didn’t rush to take their lives but spoke patiently to clarify, "The so-called Ancestral Inheritance Cave is just a ruse."

He relished the shock etched on the faces before him. Narrowing his eyes, he gave a slight tremor to his right hand, summoning a veil of blood-colored flames, which he then allowed to engulf them. “This Stone Door is your passage to the underworld, and this place shall be your final resting ground.”

“Blood-colored flames and a slaughter formation!” Lu Xiaoliang’s fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his eyes momentarily flushing crimson with sheer rage and murderous intent. “You’ve sided with the Black Wind Alliance, with the alien race!”

Veins throbbed on his forehead, a mix of heartache and surging killing intent, but more than that, he was consumed by anger, disbelief, and profound despair. “Why?”

“Power and strength, of course,” Mu Qian replied with calm composure, a gentle smile playing on his lips, as if he were still the young prodigy in white basking in the sunlight. “My Master joined the Black Wind Alliance, and so have I. Isn’t that perfectly normal?”

His expression shifted slightly, the smile twisting into a sneer. “Didn’t you all say, ‘Like master, like disciple’? I’m merely treading the path my Master walked.”

“Mu Brother isn’t that kind of person!” The protest didn’t come from Lu Xiaoliang but from the elegantly dressed woman beside him.

It was Luo Qianhuan from Sound Peak, her dark eyes clear and her voice resonant, filled with unwavering conviction and trust.

Hearing this, Mu Qian’s body trembled faintly, a fleeting glimmer of moisture in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by icy detachment. “Whether I am that kind of person or not, you’ll soon see for yourselves.”

“Senior Sister Luo,” Mu Qian’s voice carried a mocking tone, “Very well, I’ll let you die with clarity, as a final gesture to our bond as fellow disciples.”

As he spoke, he stirred the blood-colored flames, instantly enveloping nine people in their scorching embrace. Through the flickering flames, his expression seemed distant and disoriented. “Farewell.”

“Junior Sister Ming He, be careful. These blood-colored flames are crafted from alien blood by the Black Wind Alliance. Once they touch you, they cannot be extinguished and will corrode your cultivation and bones. Countless human ancestors have perished beneath their blaze.”

Within the flames, Wu Sanhuo swung his sword, slicing through the flames lunging toward Ming He and pulling her to safety. His long sword gleamed fiercely amidst the inferno. Though he cultivated the Way of Crafting, he was no stranger to Swordsmanship; the former was his life’s path, the latter his means of defense.

“Thank you, Brother Wu, for saving my life,” Ming He said weakly, her spiritual energy tangled and chaotic, rendering her unable to execute her sword techniques fully.

“What’s wrong with Junior Sister Ming He?” Wu Sanhuo asked, cutting through the flames leaping toward her, his voice tinged with confusion. He sensed her cultivation was at the eighth level of the Dust Dispersal stage. Though she had only recently broken through, she was on par with him. As a pure sword cultivator, she shouldn’t be faring worse than him.

“She’s been poisoned,” Xu Xu from Illusion Peak rushed to her side, supporting her while channeling a surge of spiritual energy. Her brow furrowed, her expression grave. “It’s Spirit Locking Poison. It seals one’s spiritual energy for a quarter of an hour, triggered by the alien blood flames.”

Spirit Locking Poison?

Ming He looked up, disbelief in her eyes as she turned her gaze toward Mu Qian. His face seemed blurred amidst the dancing flames. “Was it that cup of wine?”

Her heart sank as she stared at his calm, composed face, which now seemed absurd. She had never imagined Mu Qian would align with the Black Wind Alliance. It wasn’t about trust; she simply believed in the instinct deep within her soul.

Bailu Village, Mo Ze City—her entire connection with Mu Qian stemmed from these two places. She still remembered the longing and aspiration in his eyes when he spoke of the Haoran Sword Dao. A person who harbored such light and yearning—she couldn’t believe he would betray the human race, which was why she had placed her limited trust in him.

“It was me,” Mu Qian stepped through the flames, stopping before her. Meeting her starlit gaze, he trembled faintly. “Ming He.”

He chuckled softly, his eyes dark and inscrutable. “You’re too formidable. I feared you might be the final variable, so I had to eliminate you myself.”

“Why should Qu Lingyun live? My father is dead, my Master is dead, and so many others have perished. How is it that he not only survived for over twenty years but also nurtured such an extraordinary disciple? How is he worthy? How are you worthy?”

Mu Qian conjured a flare of blood-colored flames, striking Xu Xu beside her. He watched as she writhed in agony, her screams echoing through the flames, his smile widening. “The deputy leader promised that taking your life would elevate me within the Black Wind Alliance. For today, I’ve meticulously laid this trap for so long, and I won’t let you ruin it.”

“Formation Activation,” Mu Qian murmured, watching as the blood-colored flames spread across the stone cave, engulfing the cultivators. A murderous intent rose from the depths of an endless abyss, devouring their life force and consciousness.

“Hiss.”

Lu Xiaoliang groaned, feeling as though his insides were being torn apart. The murderous intent coursed through his body, threatening to drain his vitality. The flickering flames blurred his vision, the searing pain drawing cold sweat, but he clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out.

The slaughter formation, a creation born from the corpses of human ancestors and fused with the malevolent spirits of countless races, was the most loathed existence by the human race. A single slaughter formation had annihilated hundreds of humans on the battlefield of the heavens; thus, their fate was sealed.

Indeed, Mu Qian had spent so long orchestrating this scheme—it was no simple trap.

Lu Xiaoliang struggled to lift his gaze, seeking his fellow disciples, but all he saw was a sea of blood. His juniors lay bleeding beneath the slaughter formation, powerless to resist. Yet, he resolved that before death claimed him, he would at least take Mu Qian down, or his hatred would remain unquenched.

“You truly remain untouched by the slaughter formation,” Mu Qian observed, his gaze fixed on Ming He, who leaned against the stone wall, her face pale yet untouched by the formation’s blades. He smiled faintly. “The extraordinary genius of the human race lives up to her reputation.”

His smile lingered, but jealousy and hatred seeped through. “Very well, if the formation cannot claim your life, I’ll do it myself.”

Mu Qian chuckled softly as he drew his long sword from its sheath. “I polished this blade for a day and a night, wondering whose flesh and blood would first stain its edge. I never imagined it would be yours, Ming He. What a pity.”

He had a look of regret in his eyes, unsure whether he was lamenting Ming He’s inescapable fate or regretting that her blood didn’t match his sword.

“The Spirit Locking Poison still has half a moment left; you can no choice but to watch as I walk up to you with this sword and plunge it into you, staining the tip of my white long sword with your blood.”

Mu Qian walked step by step toward Ming He, an aura enveloping her and rendering her immobile. With one hand, he held the long sword against her heart, watching with pleasure as blood droplets began to seep out.

“Clang!”

The sound of the sword rang out clearly. Ming He spat out a mouthful of blood, breaking free from Mu Qian’s sharp control. She looked up to see Lu Xiaoliang, clad in red attire, locked in combat with Mu Qian, occasionally pierced by the blades flying out from the slaughter formation, yet still showing a fearless determination in the face of death.

Besides Lu Xiaoliang, there were also Luo Qianhuan, Xu Xu, Wu Sanhuo, Wang Chongbai, Yang Changying, Fang Wu, and Han Ruoke. The eight of them stood together, their clothes stained red, their bodies pierced by blades, yet their gaze remained fixed on Mu Qian. They sought to eliminate him and save her at the same time.

Ming He’s eyes brightened as she channeled her spiritual energy. A quarter of an hour felt both long and short, but she managed to hold on.

With her sword drawn, she sliced through the withered vines inside the cave. Ming He lightly tapped her toes and leaped to her comrades, swinging her sword to cut down the endless black blades flying in the air.

Mu Qian remarked, “How united and resilient you all are,” watching the nine standing shoulder to shoulder with a mocking smile. “But I despise this resilience the most.”

He coldly looked at them, tilting his head to swallow a pill. In the next moment, his aura sharply rose—Dust Dispersal Stage Seven, Dust Dispersal Stage Eight, Dust Dispersal Stage Nine.

“Boom!”

Spiritual energy gathered into a vortex as Mu Qian opened his eyes, a blood-red glimmer flickering in them. With his cultivation at the second level of the Wind Master realm, he instantly towered over everyone.

“What’s the rush? You can’t escape,” Mu Qian said, observing Lu Xiaoliang and the others as they shielded Ming He. His eyes were playful and blood-stained. With a horizontal swing of his sword, he effortlessly ended a life, then slowly approached Ming He, stepping over the blood-red ground, his aura rising to the seventh level of the Wind Master realm in no time.

“Did you see that? This is the means of the aliens, a height I can never hope to reach with my hard training,” Mu Qian spoke lazily, clearly at a point where he could dictate their lives.

“Junior Sister Ming He, wait for us to hold him off; you need to escape toward the open areas of the city. If any seniors pass by, you might survive,” Lu Xiaoliang whispered.

“Brother Lu…” Ming He’s eyes trembled as her voice quivered.

“The means of the aliens are vile, but his cultivation is real at the seventh level of the Wind Master realm. We are far too outmatched to win. Besides, we are already bound by the blood-colored flames and the slaughter formation; we cannot escape.”

“But you are different,” Lu Xiaoliang replied, and a glimmer seemed to flow in his eyes. “Since you are not affected by the slaughter formation, you won’t be bound by the cave. You can escape.

Out of all of us here, Mu Qian wants to kill you first, because in the eyes of the aliens and the Black Wind Alliance, you are far more important than us. This shows how crucial you are to the human race.

So, Junior Sister Ming He, you must survive.”

After saying this, Lu Xiaoliang charged at Mu Qian with determination, like a moth to a flame, fully aware it meant death, with others following closely behind.

They fought to carve out a path to survival for Ming He, carrying the hopes and expectations of their seniors.

“Blocking a chariot with a mantis arm!” Mu Qian scoffed, raising his sword.

“Junior Sister Ming He!” Wu Sanhuo exclaimed, performing a hand gesture with the gray Flying Sky Ribbon as his weapon, wrapping them, along with Mu Qian, in its thin fabric that covered the bloodshed—an emblem of their flight.

Ming He clenched her fists and rushed out of the cave, glancing back to see Mu Qian breaking through, blood splattering, the Flying Sky Ribbon reduced to tatters in the crimson storm.

“Junior Sister Ming He, you can’t escape.” Mu Qian stepped out of the cave with his dripping long sword, watching as Ming He flew away across the waterfall, his eyes wild. He then stepped onto the clouds, and in a few breaths, he landed right in front of Ming He, looking back with a demeanor full of sorrowful compassion. “What a pity, such a bright future.”

As he said this, he slowly raised his sword of slaughter, his expression and movements identical to when Ming He had caught a glimpse of him inside the cave.

She could not escape this sword.

Ming He felt both despair and anger, thinking about how she had let down the expectations of her seniors and many others who believed she would be the future of the human race. But now, she could not grow.

Just one step away.

She gritted her teeth, blood spilling forth from her frustration, being so close to the Wind Master realm yet dying at the Eighth Level of Dust Dispersal.

“Clang!”

In the distance, a flying sword sliced through the air with a sharp glimmer. Ming He looked up in hope, seeing a translucent white long sword flying from the heavens, piercing through Mu Qian’s body in an instant, reminiscent of the cutting edge from that night at Qingyun Tower.

“Damn it!”

Mu Qian cursed under his breath as he pulled out the white long sword and tossed it to the ground, then soared into the sky, stepping onto the clouds, quickly disappearing without a trace.