Chapter Forty-Three: Death

At that moment, Che Wuyou happened to open his eyes, just in time to witness Liu Lanzhi being sent flying by the man in black. He couldn't help but murmur softly, "Lanzhi."

The man in black was already struggling, pitted against three opponents. Now, with his left arm pierced by Hong Tao's sword, though he managed to staunch the bleeding, his entire body was greatly affected, his movements far less agile than before. Fortunately, his desperate attack had, if not killed Hong Shun outright, at least left him with worsening injuries, diminishing his fighting strength further.

Liu Lanzhi, too, had suffered a grave wound from the man in black's fierce strike. Though she wasn't his main target, the force of his full-strength blow was not something easily met. Moreover, Liu Lanzhi was the weakest among the four, and had faced him head-on; her severe injury was only to be expected.

Hong Tao had been seriously wounded early on in the fight, and after repeatedly clashing with the man in black, his injuries had grown even more dire. In truth, of the four, the man in black had sustained the least harm.

The man's tenacity had surpassed everyone’s expectations. Clearly, keeping him here today would not be easy, but to simply let him walk away left them unwilling.

"Do you still wish to fight?" The man in black surveyed the three gravely wounded opponents, speaking with a hoarse yet arrogant voice. "If you persist, victory is not certain to be yours."

Hong Tao saw the man in black, sword in hand, his aura restored to its earlier strength, and his resolve wavered. If the battle continued, they might not be able to keep him—perhaps it would be themselves who would fall.

Hong Shun, though furious within, kept silent. His injuries were severe, and further combat would be futile and possibly disastrous. Besides, as the proverb goes, a gentleman’s revenge can wait ten years; it would be wiser to recover and seek vengeance another day. Yet, since Liu Lanzhi had not spoken, having saved his life, he could not speak either.

Seeing their silence, the man in black relaxed a little. He had nearly fallen here today; it was best to leave this troubled place at once and plan later. He turned away, ignoring the others, and slowly walked toward his steed.

"Wait." Though weak, the words were resolute. The voice belonged to Che Wuyou, who had been unconscious for so long. This faint utterance shattered the calm, and tension surged anew.

Che Wuyou struggled to rise from the ground, swaying as he nearly lost his balance. He quickly steadied himself by gripping his sword with both hands, barely managing to stand. He sighed inwardly—injured as he was, he could still stand. The nameless scripture he practiced truly deserved its reputation as a treasure of the cultivation world. Not only was his endurance remarkable, but his recovery was also astonishingly swift.

Everyone stared in shock at Che Wuyou; he had actually managed to stand, and the man in black was especially astounded. What kind of miraculous medicine had this youth taken, to survive such grievous wounds? But now was not the time to ponder this. Though he had never regarded Che Wuyou as a threat, he still instinctively asked, "Oh? And what do you intend?"

"You've left all four of us gravely injured, and if given the chance, would have killed us without hesitation. Having treated us so, do you mean to simply leave without a word? There is no such easy thing in this world." Che Wuyou's pale face made him appear even weaker.

The man in black frowned, scoffing coldly. "If you want words from me, prove yourselves first. If you lack the strength, do not waste your breath."

"Don’t bluster any longer. Don’t assume others can’t see through you. That fierce strike you just unleashed not only drained much of your true essence, but also left you with serious internal injuries. I’m curious—under such internal and external distress, how much strength can you actually muster now? Peak Purple Mansion? Or merely late-stage?"

"You—" The man in black’s expression changed.

"What, you? Don’t bother denying it. If you truly had such power, you wouldn’t have risked so much only now. If you could have gravely wounded two masters in a single move, there were countless earlier chances—why not use them? Why wait until you were nearly defeated?"

A silence fell over everyone. Che Wuyou’s words made sense, but what if he was mistaken? The man in black’s strength was evident; who knew what tricks he still held?

"Let me test his mettle," Liu Lanzhi said, her voice quiet as she gazed at Che Wuyou. She had been silent, but now, hearing his words, she spoke almost instinctively.

The man in black’s face darkened, glaring fiercely at Che Wuyou. Had he known this youth was so troublesome, he should have killed him first, sparing himself so much grief. But regret was useless now. He spoke harshly to Liu Lanzhi, "Courting death!"

"Count me in as well." Hong Shun’s voice rang out in time. He felt indebted to Liu Lanzhi—had she not intervened, she would not have been injured. Since she was determined to face the man in black, he could not stand idly by. Though his wounds were worsening, his spirit remained undiminished.

Hong Tao hesitated briefly, but then stepped forward firmly. The three formed a new encirclement, surrounding the man in black.

Che Wuyou saw this and breathed a sigh of relief. If you hunt a tiger and fail to kill it, you risk its wrath. The man in black was too dangerous to let live. Since he had already shown murderous intent, there was no reason for mercy. Though all three attackers were seriously wounded, Che Wuyou was not overly concerned.

The man in black was clearly at the end of his strength—Che Wuyou was certain of it. He possessed an unusually keen sense for the flow of spiritual energy. At first, he could not gauge the man in black’s true essence, perhaps because the man’s realm was far above his own.

But after the man in black’s wild attack, Che Wuyou, with improved cultivation, could sharply sense the man’s true essence pouring out, and from its strange flow, deduced he was suffering severe internal injuries, though well concealed. The others hadn’t noticed.

Once again, the three engaged the man in black. They soon discovered his strength had diminished significantly—not as much as Che Wuyou had predicted, but within their expectations.

His movements were sluggish, his swordplay no longer as unpredictable. Yet even so, the fight was fierce; their own injuries limited their abilities, and Hong Shun was especially weakened. Though they held the advantage, killing the man in black would not be easy.

Che Wuyou sat on the ground, quietly healing, circulating the Hundred Herbs Formula. He felt his body fill with true essence, and could not help but rejoice. Years of cultivation had paid off—he had unknowingly reached the peak of the Qi Refining stage.

After completing his practice, Che Wuyou felt much less exhausted. He resumed studying the nameless scripture, which truly was a treasure for refining the body. He could sense his wounds healing at an astonishing rate; if this continued, he believed he would recover almost completely within a month.

Yet, each time he marveled at the scripture’s power, a strange unease crept into his heart. That such a mighty text should fall into his hands seemed unreal.

Whenever he thought of it, he grew restless, especially about the green medicinal power lurking in his dantian. Years had passed, and it had grown to a level that made his heart tremble. When he was younger, he had thought nothing of it, hoping one day to control it, but after years of effort, he realized it was not within his power. He was no longer a naïve child and sensed that none of this was good fortune.

Time passed slowly. The four fought until exhaustion. Hong Shun withdrew from battle, his wounds too severe, and began to focus on healing.

The man in black was also in dire straits. He crawled and rolled out of the encirclement, inching toward his horse.

Hong Tao and Liu Lanzhi pursued him closely, but just missed the distance. What was once a leap away now seemed impossible to cross. The man in black saw the gap widening between himself and his pursuers and breathed a sigh of relief. To die at their hands would be intolerable; he had stolen his master’s sword secrets and believed himself a true master—how could he fall here?

As he crawled onwards, he suddenly felt a chill in his chest. It was as if he were a punctured balloon, his energy rapidly draining away. Wide-eyed in terror, he looked down at last, and saw a sword glinting in his chest, held by a young man.