Cold Cry had already begun planning his escape.
The Cultivator had yet to appear, and by now he understood the truth—this was no test. He had truly encountered a demon.
Shaking his head, Cold Cry scanned his surroundings before crouching down to pick up several sharp wooden sticks scattered across the forest floor, gripping them tightly in his palm.
This would be his final strike.
After this, he would have no choice but to flee.
A demon possessed overwhelming stamina and regenerative ability. Without a Nichirin Blade, he had no reliable way to kill it—only delay it.
Cold Cry steadied his breathing, exhaled slowly, and sharpened his gaze.
Snowflakes began to drift down once more. In an instant, the wooden sticks in his hand were encased in frost, transforming into slender ice picks.
"Phantom—Drifting Snow."
This was a composite technique—melding the speed and footwork of Phantom with the freezing lethality of Drifting Snow.
Before his voice had even faded, his figure blurred and vanished. Afterimages flickered across the clearing as he closed in on the demon.
The demon twisted violently, attempting to intercept him—but it was already too late.
Seven or eight phantom-like figures surrounded it. In near-perfect unison, the ice picks plunged into its joints—ankles, knees, and ligaments—pinning and restricting its movement.
Cold Cry did not linger.
Having exhausted nearly all his strength, he turned and sprinted up the mountain path. Behind him, the demon's shrill screams tore through the forest.
---
Why flee upward instead of downhill?
Downhill was easier—but far more uncertain.
Cold Cry knew his limits. Even if he ran, he wouldn't make it far. Once the demon tore free, it would catch him sooner or later.
He didn't know how far the mountain base was, nor whether anyone there could save him.
Too many unknowns.
But the mountaintop… that was different.
The Cultivator would be there.
If anyone could kill the demon, it would be him.
Moreover, Cold Cry had deliberately provoked the demon into making noise. Those shrieks should have carried up the mountain.
If he was lucky, help was already on the way.
All he had to do… was survive.
---
At first, he could still move.
But as the climb steepened, his legs began to tremble. His vision blurred. Each step felt heavier than the last.
Eventually, he could only drag himself forward, using rocks and tree trunks for support.
He prayed the demon might retreat.
But that hope was quickly shattered.
A shrill, furious scream echoed from behind.
Branches snapped.
It was coming.
---
Cold Cry stopped.
He knew he couldn't escape anymore.
Leaning against a boulder, he slowly sank to the ground.
"…So this is the end."
A bitter smile crossed his lips.
Darkness crept into his vision—whether from nightfall or exhaustion, he couldn't tell.
That stingy woman really put me through hell…
He let out a weak sigh.
Thinking of Kochou Shinobu, a faint warmth stirred in his chest.
Aside from his sister… she was the only one who made him feel that way.
---
With trembling fingers, he pulled out the azure pendant hidden beneath his bandages.
It swayed gently, emitting a faint glow.
"Little Qi… don't come looking for me. Don't think about revenge. Live well."
Those were the last words his sister had left him.
At the time, he hadn't even been fully conscious.
All this while, he had lived for one purpose—to find her, to kill Qi An, and to avenge everything.
And yet…
His journey was ending before it had even begun.
---
A foul wind swept past.
A shadow dropped from above.
The demon had arrived.
Cold Cry lifted his head, forcing his blurred vision to focus.
The demon screeched and lunged, claws tearing through the air toward his throat—
Cold Cry's eyes snapped open.
Veins bulged across his forehead as he roared with everything he had left:
"Qi… An!"
The shout rang through the forest, filled with fury and despair.
Startled, the demon recoiled instantly, leaping onto a nearby branch.
After everything it had suffered, it instinctively feared another hidden technique.
Silence followed.
Then realization.
It had been fooled.
---
Enraged, the demon let out a furious shriek and lunged again—this time with full killing intent.
But before it could strike—
A hoarse, aged voice echoed through the forest.
"Stone Breathing, Second Form: Upper Smash."
Cold Cry's vision flickered.
A massive figure appeared before him.
Then—
Thud.
A dull, heavy impact—like a melon being crushed.
Mid-air, the demon's head exploded under the force of a single, devastating blow.
---
It was over.
---
The old man grabbed Cold Cry effortlessly and hoisted him onto his back.
With steady, unhurried steps, he began walking toward the mountaintop.
From over his shoulder, Cold Cry glanced back.
The demon's headless body staggered briefly… before collapsing into ash and scattering into the wind.
---
Incredible…
So this was the strength of a master.
But something didn't add up.
"…How did you kill it?" Cold Cry asked weakly. "I thought demons could only be killed by beheading them with a Nichirin Blade."
The old man snorted.
"Who told you that?"
"The books…"
"They only teach the most practical method," the old man replied. "Not the only one."
---
He continued calmly:
"Demons are killed by sunlight. Nichirin Blades are forged from a special ore that absorbs sunlight—Scarlet Crimson Iron Sand and Ore."
"That's why they work."
"To kill a demon, you must destroy its vital core—its head—and overwhelm its regeneration."
"A Nichirin Blade does both efficiently."
He paused.
"But overwhelming force can achieve the same result."
---
Cold Cry fell silent.
So that blow… had simply been powerful enough to obliterate the demon's head faster than it could regenerate.
No tricks.
Just absolute strength.
---
"There's another method too," the old man added. "Poison."
"Wisteria poison disrupts a demon's regeneration from within."
Cold Cry immediately thought of Kochou Shinobu.
"But," the old man continued, "it's not reliable against stronger demons. That's why it's rarely used in direct combat."
---
Cold Cry closed his eyes.
Exhaustion finally overtook him.
But before losing consciousness, one thought lingered—
So… that's how it works.