Dusk melted into darkness, the sun sinking below the western hills as night descended in full. Gao Han's heart throbbed with restless excitement at the coming hunt for the zombie. One other soul shared his turbulent anticipation: Situ Yan, the young lady of the Situ clan.
Having taken a short afternoon nap, she had missed Gao Han's duel with Lu Zhengchun, and knew nothing of his plan to venture into the mountains with only Lingze and his two fellow monks. When Situ Jian told her, she flew into a fit of indignation—Lingze and the others had once promised to take her along, yet now they would bring only Gao Han, a slight she took as a deliberate slight.
Situ Jian could only smile bitterly to himself at his sister's outburst. Not only was she forbidden from joining, even he and the other True Essence cultivators were deemed too weak to accompany the party.
Situ Yan begged her brother to find a way for her to tag along, but Situ Jian could think of none—and even if he had, he would never have let her risk her life. The zombie's ferocity remained etched vividly in his mind, its hideous form and overwhelming power still sending chills down his spine. He shook his head firmly, unmoved by her pleading and cajoling.
At last, Situ Yan gave up on her brother, her mind racing. If that rascal Gao Han could go, why could she not? Was she any less capable than he? At eighteen, curiosity burned fiercely within her, and she longed to see who would prevail: Gao Han or the zombie. A reckless, unthinking plan took shape in her mind.
Gao Han had spent the afternoon in quiet preparation. After his battle with Lu Zhengchun, he had reflected deeply on the lessons of the fight, and in the heat of combat, a sudden insight had struck him regarding the eighth form of his Cold Mountain Palm: High Mountain, Flowing Stream. Though the strike lacked the explosive force of Earth-Shaking Might, it possessed an unyielding, surging momentum, its power growing steadily with each passing moment—its ultimate strength surpassing even that of the more violent technique.
Once Gao Han and the three monks had honed their minds and bodies to peak condition and readied their weapons, they set forth. Lingze and his companions remained clad in their simple grey monastic robes, each wielding a staff as tall as his chest. Gao Han wore a sleek black martial robe, his silver Steelpoint Sword in hand, a dark sash cinched about his waist, and his long black hair bound high with a black cloth. His features were chiseled, handsome, and icy-cold, as unyielding as eternal glacial ice, stripping him of all the softness expected of a sixteen-year-old youth, lending him an air of formidable heroism.
A true young hero, Situ Jian mused. I wonder if he is betrothed. With his talent, looks, and strength, he would make a fine match for the Situ clan. I cannot help but wonder if something has already bloomed between Yan and him. A part of him now hoped that such a bond existed, for it would bind Gao Han closely to the Situ clan, and his sister could do far worse than to entrust her life to a man such as he.
He glanced about, only to find his sister nowhere in sight. Strange, he thought. She had been clamoring to join the hunt at dinner. Had she thought better of it? Before he could dwell on it, Gao Han's voice rang out, clear and resolute.
"Gentlemen, we depart."
"Brother Han, bring us victory!"
"Brother Gao, Reverend Lingze, Lingdu, Lingyin—take care!"
"Young Hero Gao, be safe!"
Without further word, the four turned toward the deep mountains and vanished into the gathering dark. The onlookers dispersed in small groups, until only Zheng Ling and Situ Jian remained, staring into the distance.
"Sigh," Situ Jian said with a bitter laugh. "I was thoroughly defeated last night. Among the True Essence cultivators who came, you alone remain unbowed."
Zheng Ling's expression darkened even more than Situ Jian's. "Well, I—"
Before he could finish, Zheng Kong popped up from nowhere. "Truth be told, my brother lost to Brother Han long before any of you did!"
"What? Did he not wield your clan's inherited art, the Soaring Triple Strike?"
"Had he not, he would have lost even more decisively. At least this way he saved a little face," Zheng Kong rambled on, oblivious to the fury darkening Zheng Ling's expression behind him.
As Zheng Ling prepared to thrash his unruly brother, Situ Jian spoke in a defeated tone. "I had no idea the gap between us was so vast. Even if I had unleashed my clan's Ink Record Swordsmanship, I doubt I could have withstood a single strike from Gao Han."
Zheng Ling offered a consoling sigh. "Under the circumstances last night, not even the Soaring Triple Strike would have matched the might of that sword. He had grown far stronger since our duel."
Gao Han and his companions descended the hill, passing the spot where Gao Han had first spotted the zombie long before them. The night ahead lay black as ink, a gaping maw belonging to some primeval beast, waiting to swallow them whole. A deathly silence pressed in, heightening their tension with every step.
Suddenly, Gao Han heard the faint rustle of grass behind them. His Steelpoint Sword flashed free in an instant.
Frigid River-Sundering Soul-Breaking Sword!
A six-foot-six stream of icy sword qi lashed toward the source of the sound. Lingze and the others tensed, gripping their staves tightly in defensive stances.
A shrill scream pierced the air.
"Situ Yan!"
Recognition jolted through Gao Han. He activated Phantom Stride, his body darting sideways with speed beyond his normal limits.
Frigid River-Sundering Soul-Breaking Sword!
This time, the qi prioritized velocity over raw power. Another six-foot-six wave of icy sword qi erupted from his blade, twice as fast as the first.
Situ Yan had hidden near the site of Gao Han's previous battle before the group set out, trailing them silently into the mountains. The early evening had been bright enough that the four had let their guard down, failing to notice her presence. But as darkness deepened and their focus sharpened, her clumsy movement gave her away at once.
The first wave of sword qi bathed her face in pale, cold light, and she shrieked in terror at the glinting, lethal edge. Before her cry could fully leave her lips, a second, even brighter stream of qi collided with the first.
A sharp hiss split the air.
The two blasts of sword qi clashed and unraveled, tearing at the air in a cascade of crackling energy and bitter wind colder than winter's breath.
When the qi finally dissipated, the young grass shoots below lay snapped in two, and a thin layer of ice glistened across the earth, spreading three feet in diameter.
Situ Yan continued to scream, while Gao Han breathed heavily. To save her, he had unleashed power beyond his limits without preparation, straining his meridians until tiny cracks formed within them.
He strode toward her, his voice glacial as he cut her scream short. "Why have you followed us?"
Situ Yan realized she was unharmed. At the sound of that familiar, detested voice, she slowly opened her beautiful wide eyes and stared at Gao Han with a pitiful, trembling gaze.
Gao Han remained unmoved. He pressed the tip of his Steelpoint Sword gently beneath her snow-white chin.
Lingze and the monks cried out in alarm. "Young Hero Gao, spare her!"
"Her offense is grave, but not worthy of death!"
"Please, show mercy!"
Situ Yan knew all too well that Gao Han was a man of unpredictable wrath, one who cared nothing for status or lineage if he deemed a life forfeit. Gu Yunluan, son of a great general, had lost an arm to him without hesitation.
Tears burst from her eyes, sobbing loudly. Gao Han's frown deepened. He already held her in low regard—she had struck him without cause when they first met, harassed him endlessly since, and her recklessness had left him lightly wounded yet again in this deadly wilderness.
A true urge to kill her rose within him. He channeled qi into his sword, ready to strike.
A deafening, unearthly howl split the sky, drawing closer by the second.
Gao Han whipped his sword back and assumed a defensive stance. Situ Yan fell silent, sniffling as she stumbled to her feet. As he scanned the shadows, Gao Han suddenly felt his arm pressed between soft warmth. He turned to find Situ Yan clinging tightly to him, her eyes wide with terror, her figure pressed firmly against his arm.
Gao Han smiled faintly, amused at his own earlier bloodlust. She was nothing more than a sheltered young lady, harmless in her foolishness. Whatever grievances lay between them had been born of thoughtlessness, not malice.
His heart softened. He spoke in a gentler tone. "You should take my left arm. My right hand must hold my sword."
Situ Yan blinked at him in confusion.
Gao Han coughed lightly. "I need my right hand to wield the blade."
Situ Yan finally realized how she was pressed against him, her cheeks flushing scarlet. She pulled away with a soft huff, murmuring in embarrassment before turning aside, unable to meet his gaze.
Gao Han paid her no further mind. Like the three monks, he fixed his gaze intently on the direction of the howl—unmistakably the zombie's cry. In such mortal peril, he had no attention to spare for anything else.
Through the darkness, a figure emerged, its eyes glowing like crimson rubies, shimmering with bloodthirsty light. Gao Han stared it down, speaking sharply to Situ Yan. "Run! Back to the camp. Now."
When no sound of retreat followed, he glanced back to find her still standing there. "What are you waiting for? Go!"
"I… I'm scared," she stammered.
Gao Han laughed in exasperation. "You were not scared enough to stay away."
"I had not seen the zombie then! Now I have," she retorted, a flicker of defiance in her voice.
"Stay here. Do not move."
In the time they had spoken, the zombie had closed the distance, deceptively swift despite its lumbering appearance. Gao Han gestured for Situ Yan to remain still, his sword flickering as he surged forward in a blur of Phantom Stride, the tip aimed straight for the zombie's throat.
Lingze and the others whirled their staves, forming the Three Talents Formation to encircle the creature. Though the zombie was blind, its sense of smell was razor-sharp; it had not forgotten the scent of the three monks, who had driven it off once before.
It lunged wildly at Lingdu, but before its claws could strike, a sharp beam of swordlight targeted its throat.
Clang!
The sword did not pierce flesh, but rang against metal-hard skin. The zombie was thrown back three steps, a pale white mark blooming on its throat.
Gao Han's eyes narrowed. He had known the zombie's defense was formidable, but not to this extent. That strike had carried seventy percent of his power, aimed at its weakest point—and yet it had not drawn so much as a drop of blood.
Lingze and the others moved to attack, but a swifter figure darted in, sword flashing in a whirlwind of strikes. It was Gao Han, wielding his well-practiced Spirit-Sundering Sword Art.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
His blade clashed repeatedly against the zombie's arms, each strike precise and unrelenting. The final blow—Spirit-Sunder—sliced toward its throat in a streak of white light.
The zombie reeled back. Gao Han seized the opening, slamming his left palm into its chest with Earth-Shaking Might. A bloodied handprint blossomed on its rotting flesh. Though this was but a low-tier zombie, lacking true intelligence, it could still feel pain. It let out a furious, guttural roar, its fetid breath washing over Gao Han— the stench of the grave.
Enraged, it lashed out with both arms, moving faster than the eye could follow. Gao Han was too close to evade. He spun his sword into a frigid circular shield.
Hum!
The unbreakable barrier shattered in a single blow. Gao Han was sent flying thirty feet through the air, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.
He stared at the zombie in disbelief. With his current strength, even a first-layer True Essence cultivator would have suffered grievous wounds from his full-force Earth-Shaking Might—yet this creature bore only a bloody mark.
The zombie had memorized Gao Han's scent. It charged directly toward him, ignoring the strikes raining down on its back from the three monks.
Gao Han's eyes narrowed. Though mindless, the beast still clung to vengeance. It would kill him for the harm he had inflicted.
As the zombie closed in, Gao Han gripped his sword with both hands and raised it toward the sky.
Frigid River-Sundering Soul-Breaking Sword!
A long arc of icy sword qi sliced toward the creature. The zombie did not dodge or defend, continuing its mad charge. The razor-sharp qi, trailing frost, crashed into its body.
Crack! Thud!
The blow sheared away a third of its skull, freezing its upper body solid. Yet still it did not fall. It dragged its mutilated frame away, its half-shattered head a grotesque, ghostly sight.
"Do not let it escape!"
Six Snow Plums!
World-Sweeping Strike!
Heaven-Piercing Staff!
Frigid River-Sundering Soul-Breaking Sword!
Four distinct attacks slammed into the zombie. Boom! Only Gao Han's qi inflicted real damage; the others merely knocked the creature back. The power of a first-layer True Essence cultivator weakened sharply beyond twenty feet, and the zombie had already fled twenty-five feet away, rendering the monks' strikes nearly useless.
Gao Han's attack, however, tore a bloody hole in its flesh, freezing its lower half and slowing its movements by more than half.
If this continued, the zombie would eventually perish. But then it let out a long, mournful cry, far different from its earlier rage-filled howls—this was a sound of desperation, a call for aid.
As if in answer, rotting hands burst from the earth all around the fallen zombie. Bodies clawed their way out of the soil, emaciated and decayed. More than twenty zombies emerged at once.
The four companions' hearts sank. One had already proven nearly unbeatable—twenty more spelled certain doom. Gao Han's expression turned graver still. They had overlooked a crucial truth.
A single zombie could never have slaughtered entire villages. Mindless as they were, some villagers would have escaped. To wipe out multiple settlements, at least fifty zombies would have been needed.
Sure enough, more unearthly moans echoed in the distance.
The original zombie limped toward Hengyuan Valley, while the pack of undead surrounded Gao Han and the others in a thick, tightening ring.
Gao Han raised his sword high.
Frigid River-Sundering Soul-Breaking Sword!
A sweeping beam of qi pierced through two zombies at once, freezing their chests through and through.
He turned to Lingze, his voice steady. "These zombies are at the peak of Qi Condensation. How do we slay them?"
Lingze's expression relaxed slightly. "Two methods: pierce the heart, or sever the head completely."
Gao Han tested the advice and found it true. His sword trembled, unleashing a storm of light as he executed the Spirit-Sundering Sword Art, each strike piercing a zombie's heart.
His speed was breathtaking, leaving Lingze and the others stunned, momentarily forgetting to fight. They needed to do little—Gao Han stood at the forefront, cutting down every undead that approached.
Situ Yan watched him, her beautiful eyes shining with admiration, utterly captivated. This was Gao Han's battle, and his alone.