Chapter 233: Immortality
Having fully grasped her Sword Intent, Li Sushang moved. Her figure blurred, instantly fracturing into several identical clones that surrounded their target. This was the signature ability of Ink-Dyed Fragrance, a technique capable of weaving lifelike illusions from thin air. Naturally, illusions were ultimately false constructs. Much like the lingering scent of fresh ink on rice paper, they were destined to fade and dissipate with the passage of time. Yet, against the deranged enemy standing before her, a mere fleeting illusion was more than enough to seal his fate.
The multiple projections of Li Sushang raised their wrists in perfect unison. Silver blades flashed as they brought their swords down in a synchronized, inescapable arc. Zhang Chengqi stood paralyzed, his crazed mind completely incapable of comprehending the attack, let alone mounting a defense. The blades pierced his flesh with sickening ease, leaving several deep, bloody holes across his torso. His knees buckled, and he collapsed heavily onto the cold stone floor. Blood pooled beneath him, yet his cracked lips continued to twitch. He muttered deliriously, repeating fragmented phrases about the Divine Pill, Taixu Sword Qi, and his delusion of Ascension.
"Did Senior Sister Su Mei really send us all the way out here just to watch this pathetic play?" Cheng Lingshuang asked, blinking her eyes with an expression of deep boredom.
Nearby, Ye Shixing and Mingyu remained frozen in place. The sheer terror of the sudden execution had drained the color from their faces, leaving them dazed and entirely unsure of what to do next.
"It seems rational communication is no longer an option," Rovel said, his voice steady but laced with a heavy sigh. "Finish him."
He watched Zhang Chengqi crawling pathetically through his own blood, a dark and twisted shadow of a human being. A brief wave of sorrow washed over Rovel. A perfectly capable Sect Master of the Wu Sect had willingly reduced himself to this ghastly, monstrous state. With his demise, the utter decline and collapse of the Wu Sect was now an inescapable foregone conclusion.
Li Sushang frowned deeply. A flicker of pity crossed her features, but she quickly suppressed it. She gritted her teeth, stepped forward, and delivered the final, merciful strike to end Zhang Chengqi's miserable existence. Crimson blood stained the ancient floorboards of the Taoist temple, painting a shocking and gruesome picture against the serene architecture.
Rovel turned his attention away from the corpse. "Where is your master's private residence?" he asked the trembling disciple. "I need to go there and search for some clues."
Ye Shixing jolted, finally snapping out of his terrified stupor. Looking entirely lost and utterly dejected, the young man guided Rovel through the winding corridors to Zhang Chengqi's secluded quarters. They scoured the dimly lit room, turning over cushions and checking hidden compartments. After a thorough search, they uncovered a hidden letter tucked away in a secret drawer.
Rovel held the parchment up to the light, pondering its contents. His sharp eyes quickly noticed a peculiar detail. Several of the ink brushstrokes were oddly disconnected, breaking the natural flow of the calligraphy. Knowing Su Mei's legendary meticulousness, it was impossible for her to make such a clumsy mistake. Following his intuition, Rovel began folding the paper along the disconnected lines. Crease by crease, the scattered strokes aligned perfectly, revealing a hidden message.
Southern Border, Biluo Valley.
This was the deliberate clue left behind by Su Mei. The question now was whether they should walk into what could easily be a trap. There was an incredibly high probability that Red Kite was nowhere near Tianqiong Peak at this moment. If they blindly rushed back to the mountain, they would likely exhaust themselves only to end up completely empty-handed. In the absolute absence of any other viable leads, Rovel knew he had no choice but to follow the breadcrumbs Su Mei had so carefully laid out for them.
The mysteries surrounding the Wu Sect were piling up higher by the minute. What exactly was this so-called Divine Pill that drove a man to such madness? Did Su Mei actually invent the twisted formula? And if she did, what possible reason could she have for creating such a vile, corrupted thing? A massive heap of unanswered questions accumulated in Rovel's mind, swirling together into a complex puzzle that he was determined to solve.
"Martial Uncle, I found this hidden inside the main alchemy room just now."
Seeing Rovel emerge from the private quarters, Li Sushang approached and handed over a weathered scroll she had just discovered. Her expression was unusually pale and visibly unsightly, indicating that whatever she had read was deeply disturbing.
"The refinement method for the Divine Pill?" Rovel asked, unrolling the old parchment to examine the text.
The contents were nothing short of stomach-churning. The creation of the so-called Divine Pill involved harvesting the flesh of a freshly slaughtered demon beast while it was still in a warm, pulsating state. Using a series of forbidden, agonizing techniques, this tainted flesh was then surgically implanted directly into the dantian of a living human Vessel. The text coldly noted that the better the innate bone structure and talent of the victim, the more suitable they were as a living catalyst, which in turn exponentially increased the potency and effects of the final pill.
Once the implantation was complete, the creator would employ a dark secret method to force the human Vessel to mutate, essentially transforming them from the inside out into a hybrid demon beast. After the agonizing transformation reached its peak, the mutated Vessel would be slaughtered. Their corrupted flesh and blood would then be smelted down in an alchemy furnace to form the final pill. Consuming this pill allowed the user to forcibly guide massive amounts of True Qi to circulate violently throughout their body, unnaturally strengthening their physical flesh and internal organs to superhuman levels.
However, the scroll contained a strict warning. At most, a cultivator could only consume one Divine Pill every two months. Exceeding this limit carried a catastrophic risk of the user losing their mind and succumbing to mara.
Looking at the gruesome instructions, the true, horrifying reason for the Wu Sect's sudden desolation became crystal clear. The missing disciples had not fled. Every single one of those promising young martial artists had been systematically turned into living Vessels, refined into Divine Pills, and cannibalized by their own master, Zhang Chengqi.
"But didn't he still succumb to mara in the very end?" Rovel blinked, processing the grim reality. Considering Zhang Chengqi had never cultivated the purifying techniques of Taixu Sword Qi, it was already a dark miracle that he had managed to reach such a high level of cultivation without losing his sanity much earlier. The grotesque purple patterns that had flared across his skin when he heavily exerted his True Qi during the fight were obvious, physical evidence that the mara had already taken deep root in his soul.
Wait... Rovel's mind raced as the pieces clicked together. If this vile refinement method were perfectly paired with the mental clarity and purifying nature of Taixu Sword Qi, then the fatal flaw of succumbing to mara would be completely neutralized.
"No wonder he was so desperate to obtain the Taixu Sword Qi," Rovel murmured aloud. "He needed it as a mental anchor to prevent himself from succumbing to mara whenever he exerted too much of that stolen True Qi..."
Rovel had finally grasped the crucial key to the puzzle. But as the logical conclusion formed in his head, a terrifying possibility occurred to him, causing his eyes to widen involuntarily. If this demonic Divine Pill really was created by Su Mei, and the entire Wu Sect was nothing more than a disposable batch of experimental subjects...
Then Su Mei was trying to achieve something far beyond mere martial power. She wanted to transcend human limits. She wanted to become an immortal.
She was actively seeking the very same eternal immortality possessed by her master, Red Kite.
A sudden thought struck Rovel, prompting him to pivot sharply and seek out Ye Shixing.
"I have a very specific question for you," Rovel said, his tone demanding absolute honesty. "During the fight, your master referred to you as Little Nine. How exactly did he address your older senior brothers?"
"Master never liked remembering our actual names," Ye Shixing replied, looking at Rovel with genuine confusion. "He always just called us by our numerical rank within the sect. He would call the eighth senior Old Eight, the seventh senior Old Seven, and so on down the line..."
"He didn't like remembering names, huh..." Rovel repeated slowly, a cold realization settling over him. He slowly turned his gaze toward Mingyu, who was currently huddled quietly in the darkest corner of the room. "Then shouldn't you explain yourself?"
Rovel remembered the encounter with perfect clarity. Amidst all his madness, Zhang Chengqi had distinctly called her by her actual name.
The logic was flawless. If Zhang Chengqi was merely a volatile experimental subject in a grand, twisted scheme, how could such a dangerous experiment possibly be left without a dedicated Observer to record the results?
Mingyu said absolutely nothing. She kept her head lowered, her shoulders perfectly still. When she finally looked up, her expression held none of the pathetic, trembling terror she had displayed earlier. Instead, her face was eerily calm, possessing the dead, unmoving stillness of stagnant water.
A few thick drops of black blood suddenly surged from her mouth and dripped from her nose. She had kept a lethal poison capsule hidden in her mouth the entire time. The very second Rovel had deduced her true identity, she had bitten down on it without a moment's hesitation.
"So incredibly decisive?" Rovel gave a light, humorless snort as he watched her lifeless body slump against the wall. "Su Mei certainly taught her spies well."
Despite the loss of an interrogation target, her immediate suicide perfectly confirmed his darkest suspicions. Zhang Chengqi was indeed nothing more than a lab rat.
Over the past few days of traveling, Rovel had caught wind of several troubling rumors circulating through the martial world. Whispers spoke of Su Mei establishing a powerful new organization known as the Wushuang Sect. The fear she commanded was so absolute that a popular saying had already taken root among the wandering martial artists: It is better to offend the Living Yama of Hell than to ever provoke the Wushuang Lady.
Rovel crossed his arms, his mind buzzing with anticipation and caution. He really wanted to see exactly what kind of heaven-shaking trouble this stunningly beautiful and peerlessly clever Junior Sister was stirring up in the shadows.
"Let us go. There shouldn't be anything else of value left in this slaughterhouse," Rovel announced, turning toward the exit. He cast a brief, pitying glance at the incredulous and entirely broken Ye Shixing. The poor kid had lost his master, his martial brothers, and his entire worldview in a single day. But in the grand scheme of things, at least he had managed to keep his life. That was more than the rest of the Wu Sect could say.
"Martial Uncle, where exactly are we heading next? Are we making for Tianqiong Peak?" Li Sushang asked, her curiosity piqued as she followed him out into the courtyard.
"No," Rovel replied, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "We are going to the Southern Border. Set a course for Biluo Valley."
Miles away, in a secluded and tranquil landscape, a slender woman with flowing purple hair walked quietly past the terraced field ridges and woven bamboo fences. As the heavy blanket of night fell over the countryside, a few biting wisps of evening chill crept up into her long sleeves. The woman paused her steps and let out a soft, weary sigh.
She made her way back to a modest, isolated small hut. Pushing open the creaking bamboo door, she stepped inside and gently set down her travel bundle on a wooden table. Moving with practiced familiarity in the dark, she struck a match and lit a solitary wax candle in the center of the room.
As the warm, golden candlelight rose to illuminate the small space, a pair of striking crimson eyes seemed to snap open from the shadows. They watched her intently from just behind the flickering flame. The owner of those piercing eyes shifted slightly, her voice soft and carrying a hint of fragile warmth.
"Sister... you have finally returned."
Jiang Wanxi stood completely still. She looked at the white-haired figure of Jiang Wanru sitting in the dim light, yet she did not offer an immediate answer. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken burdens. After a long, agonizing while, Jiang Wanxi finally forced the words past her lips.
"Master has been resurrected. Junior Sister Suyi is dead. And Master... she is currently heading this way."
Jiang Wanru visibly stiffened, completely stunned by the sheer weight of the news. For a fleeting moment, fear flashed in her crimson eyes, but it quickly melted away. A faint, almost peaceful smile curled at the corners of her pale mouth.
"Sister, we both knew this day was bound to come eventually," Jiang Wanru whispered, her tone devoid of regret. "To have been granted the chance to live twenty extra years by your side... I am already very happy."
Jiang Wanxi lowered her gaze. Her slender hand reached down, gripping the fabric of her skirt. Her knuckles turned white as she squeezed the material tightly, fighting back a surge of desperate emotion, before finally forcing herself to let go.
"Sister, I will not let you die."
Her voice was resolute, echoing with an unbreakable vow. Those words were exactly the same as the promise she had made on that fateful day, twenty years ago.
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