Chapter 99

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Chapter 99: A Shocking Scene

Ming He’s lips were stained red with blood, and a dull ache spread from her chest. In her dazed state, she felt almost too weak to stand, but she refused to let herself collapse. Clenching her teeth, she forced herself to lift her gaze and saw a woman clad in white descending through the mist, rushing toward her with unmistakable concern and care in her eyes.

“Ming He!” Qin Chu Yi reached her side in an instant, her breath uneven, her eyes glimmering with starlight and worry. “Are you alright?”

“Senior Sister.” Ming He murmured, feeling all her strength and resolve crumble in Qin Chu Yi’s presence. “Qin Chu Yi.”

As she softly called the name, she could no longer hold back the flood of emotions—grief, anger, guilt, despair, heartbreak… A storm of feelings surged within her, shaping the way she saw the world.

“I’m here.” Qin Chu Yi’s eyes betrayed her pain. “I’m right by your side.” Her voice, soft and tender, resonated in Ming He’s heart like a soothing melody, and her bright gaze reflected Ming He’s bloodied and disheveled state.

That blood was not hers; it belonged to her seniors. It was the price they paid to protect her, the harm Mu Qian had inflicted upon her.

At this realization, Ming He tightened her bloodied fists and clung to Qin Chu Yi. Her eyes, now glistening with a crimson hue, blurred with unshed tears, but she pressed her lips together, refusing to let her vulnerability show.

Lu Xiaoliang, Luo Qianhuan, Xu Xu, Wu Sanhuo, Wang Chongbai, Yang Changying, Fang Wu, Han Ruoke—these were the true disciples of the Floating Cloud Sect, her fellow seniors.

Ming He repeated their names silently, her heart heavy with emotion. When she looked up at the setting sun again, her eyes were as calm as the deep sea. The earlier pain and confusion had been replaced by a quiet intensity, her aura receding—not the sharp brilliance of a drawn sword, but the hidden danger of a blade sheathed.

In the Ancestral Inheritance Cave, she had learned to wait and endure.

“Senior Sister.” Ming He slowly released Qin Chu Yi, her emotions masked beneath a calm exterior, still the blue-clad true disciple of Luoheng Peak. “I want to return to the cave.”

Her voice was steady, unwavering. Amid the turmoil in her heart, she forced herself to face this with resolve.

When she had glanced back at the cave earlier, she had seen Mu Qian emerging with his blood-drenched long sword. With his cultivation at the seventh level of the Wind Master realm, the outcome was inevitable. She knew what awaited her, yet she had to go back.

“Alright.” Qin Chu Yi’s gaze held both pain and pride—pain for Ming He’s suffering, pride in her unwavering determination. From this moment on, Ming He would truly be a sword cultivator of the human race, walking the path of cultivation, honing both her skill and her spirit. The current Ming He was worthy of the title extraordinary genius.

“I’ll go with you.” She took Ming He’s hand, wiping away the blood, and offered a faint smile before leading her toward the cave.

The sound of rushing water against the rocks remained crisp, and the birds sang joyfully. Occasionally, the murmurs of dark crows broke the peace, and the setting sun painted half the sky in crimson, a stark contrast to the bloodshed within the cave—a sight that struck Ming He to her core.

Ming He clenched her fists as she stood before the shattered Stone Door of the cave, her mind replaying Lu Xiaoliang’s triumphant expression when he had broken through it, now reduced to the blood pooling on the ground.

She released Qin Chu Yi’s hand and stepped inside, taking in the broken vines, the filthy moss, and the devastation. Yet, she saw no bodies—only the tattered remnants of the gray Flying Sky Ribbon.

“Junior Sister Ming He.” A warm, clear voice echoed from within the cave, and a young man emerged, his eyes downcast. “I didn’t expect you to still be alive.”

As he spoke, a flicker of relief crossed his features. When he noticed Qin Chu Yi behind Ming He, his eyes softened with understanding. “I’m glad you’re still alive.”

“Brother Yan.” Ming He bowed slightly. She recognized him—Yan Qinghong, the chief disciple of the Floating Cloud Sect, the foremost figure of the younger generation, and the future Sect Master, a figure comparable to Yun Zhao Feng of the Liu Yun Sect, his cultivation surpassing the Wind Master realm.

Yet, she couldn’t fathom why Yan Qinghong was here, her gaze filled with confusion and… suspicion.

“I was pursuing an alien to this place when I sensed Brother Wang’s peril, so I rushed over,” Yan Qinghong explained plainly. He could sense Ming He’s doubt but remained unbothered, his demeanor open and honest.

“But I arrived too late.” His pristine white robes were now stained with blood. He lowered his gaze, his emotions raw. A look of profound grief and anger crossed his face. “I didn’t encounter Mu Qian, and I couldn’t save them.”

Ming He lifted her eyes. The Floating Cloud Nine Peaks—both Yan Qinghong and Wang Chongbai were disciples of Floating Cloud Peak, practicing the same techniques, their energies resonating with one another. It was plausible that he had broken through and joined the armored guards of the five regions to hunt aliens. His explanation seemed flawless, yet doubt lingered in her heart. “What about the bodies of my seniors?”

The ground was soaked in blood, littered with broken swords and knives, the gray Flying Sky Ribbon torn and scattered. But as she walked, she had seen no bodies. She had returned to collect her fellow disciples’ remains; if she couldn’t save their lives, at least she could ensure they weren’t left to rot in the wilderness.

“The blood-colored flames consume everything, eroding cultivation and bones. Our bodies, as humans, are merely flesh and blood. How could the junior brothers and sisters withstand such flames when their life force was extinguished and their cultivation dissipated?”

Yan Qinghong clenched his fists, his voice heavy with suppressed emotion, trembling as if weighed down by endless desolation. “They… have vanished without a trace.”

Vanished without a trace!

Ming He’s heart trembled, her vision tinged with crimson. Those words were the cruelest fate for a cultivator—to vanish without a trace meant being erased from existence, disappearing entirely from the world, perhaps forgotten by all, as if they had never been.

“But you will remember them, won’t you?” Qin Chu Yi took Ming He’s hand, warmth and cold intertwining, and embraced her gently. “If you remember, then others will remember too. They existed, and they will continue to exist.”

“I will definitely remember,” Ming He said, her eyes sharp and determined. She would always remember the comrades who fought for her in life-and-death situations, recall Mu Qian’s hypocritical righteousness, remember her own foolish mistakes, and the despair and helplessness that left her feeling small and vulnerable, as if she could only wait for the inevitable slaughter.

“Junior Sister Ming He, Young Master Qin, I must return to the sect immediately to report what has happened here. Our Floating Cloud Sect needs to be cleansed again; otherwise, anyone could infiltrate us,” Yan Qinghong said, his gaze fierce. “Will you return with me?”

“No need,” Qin Chu Yi replied, glancing at Ming He with lowered eyes. “Junior Sister Ming He and I have matters to attend to. Please, Chief Disciple, go ahead without us.”

“Very well.” Yan Qinghong observed Ming He’s silence and downcast eyes, his expression flickering, before gracefully moving out of the cave and soaring into the clouds above.

“Do you suspect him?” Qin Chu Yi asked softly, her voice echoing faintly in the vast, cold cave, carrying an ethereal quality.

“Yes,” Ming He nodded, not hiding her thoughts from Qin Chu Yi. “His appearance is too coincidental, and considering the circumstances, is it not reasonable to suspect him?” Her brow arched slightly, revealing a hint of hostility.

“Ming He.” Qin Chu Yi sighed, gently smoothing her brow. Her gaze held the usual tenderness she reserved for Ming He. “Yan Qinghong is the chief disciple of the Floating Cloud Sect and the next heir to the Sect Master. He carries the future of the sect on his shoulders; there is no way he could be compromised.”

The Floating Cloud Sect was a major power in the Eastern Region. Yan Qinghong was the foremost disciple of the Sect Master, born and raised within the sect. He had no possible ties to any alien influences.

The human race would not be so foolish as to entrust the leadership of their sect to someone of dubious identity or suspicious behavior. Therefore, Yan Qinghong’s position as the chief disciple indicated that he was beyond reproach.

“Since he broke through to the Wind Master realm, he has traveled across the five regions, working alongside the armored guards to hunt down aliens and eradicate traitors. Swift as the wind and wielding his long sword like a rainbow, this is not his first encounter with such events. He has taken countless lives of alien infiltrators and human traitors, while also rescuing many young geniuses pursued by aliens. Today’s incident cannot be connected to him.”

“Let’s go outside first.” Qin Chu Yi cast a sweeping glance around the cave, her eyes filled with sorrow. She knew Ming He had endured a heavy emotional blow from this incident, so she showed great patience and tenderness, taking Ming He’s hand and leading her to sit on a stone atop a distant mountain, the waterfall parting to reveal them.

“What you experienced today is something many in the human race have endured and will continue to endure in the future,” Qin Chu Yi spoke softly, her voice echoing with infinite melancholy and sadness. “Watching comrades, siblings, and loved ones fall in pools of blood is an almost unavoidable sorrow caused by alien invasions of the Tianwu Continent over thousands of years.”

“Has Senior Sister gone through such things as well?” Ming He lifted her gaze, her expression solemn, her eyes shimmering with flickers of light.

“Of course.” Qin Chu Yi’s voice quivered slightly, her eyes darkening with a hint of red before shifting back to brightness and resolve. “But though they are dead, we are still alive. The human race must reclaim this bloody debt by marching forward over the bloodshed until we reach the battlefield of the heavens and wipe out all invaders.”

Marching forward over bloodshed.

Ming He looked toward the distance, where the crimson glow of the setting sun gradually faded into nothingness. The night descended, resembling a fierce beast opening its massive jaws, the cold moon’s pale light casting shadows as the world was gradually engulfed in darkness. But darkness would not last forever; no matter how desolate the night, it could not prevent the blazing sun from rising as expected.

Stars sparkled in her eyes, and with sudden clarity, she saw the vast starlit sky. Her brow tightened as determination filled her gaze. In that moment, it felt as if she had experienced the cycles of life and death, the seasons of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. “Senior Sister, I understand now.”

Perhaps, before, slaying aliens and eradicating traitors had felt like a programmed task she was forced to undertake because others were doing it. But starting now, it would be different.

She wanted to kill aliens, not out of personal emotion, but simply because she belonged to the human race. Aliens and humans stood on opposing sides by nature, not based on right or wrong, but because of conflicting objectives; aliens sought to plunder the Tianwu Continent, while the human race had to protect it.

The righteousness of the human race.

Ming He remembered the clarity in Qu Lingyun’s eyes when she spoke those four words and finally understood. She slayed aliens for the righteousness of the human race, not for personal feelings; this distinction was crucial.

“Whoosh!”

In the distance, crimson fireworks suddenly soared into the sky, exploding and showering the ground with brilliance, standing out vibrantly against the dark night.

Qin Chu Yi’s expression changed as she noticed. “It’s the rescue signal from the disciples of the Floating Cloud Sect.”

“Let’s go!” Ming He narrowed her eyes, looking at Qin Chu Yi. In a moment of mutual understanding, they grasped hands and stepped onto her flying sword, executing the movements skillfully as they soared away. The long sword glinted under the moonlight, trailing a white shadow, bright as the stars.