Volume Two: The Mortal Realm, Chapter 113: The Cage of Thorns

Unable to stop his momentum, Ye Mingke pressed his palms against the tilted, towering earth spikes ahead. At the instant of contact, his hands shifted from absolute rigidity to supreme suppleness.

Using the "Wave-Treading Step" taught to him by Sword Nine, he maneuvered like a nimble swallow, gripping the earth spike to pivot his body backward while dodging a barrage of whistling, incoming debris.

This seemingly effortless transition was fraught with extreme peril. His hands, still gripping the earth spike, were deeply lacerated, spilling a torrent of blood, and his body tumbled uncontrollably upon landing.

No sooner had he regained his balance than a heavy sense of impending crisis warned him once more. He reflexively snatched the sword box he had dropped nearby, swinging it horizontally while launching himself into an upward somersault.

"Clang!" "Clang!"

"Boom!"

The swinging sword box shattered several suddenly erupted earth spikes, only to be struck by a volley of fierce ice arrows. The massive impact forced the unsteady Ye Mingke to stagger several steps back.

With disheveled hair and a deathly pale complexion, Ye Mingke held the sword box askew in one hand before slowly lowering it to the ground.

In the clearing before him, the cultivator with a six-foot blade strapped to his back had recovered from the moment Ye Mingke had obstructed him. He slowly drew his long blade, staring coldly at the boy.

To his side, a barefoot, tall cultivator carrying a heavy dragon-patterned iron staff approached slowly, his gaze equally frigid.

These were two Sea-Wheel cultivators.

At the edge of Ye Mingke's perception, an even more radiant sun was closing in—another Tongyuan-stage expert.

Ye Mingke leaned against the sword box, breathing heavily. Blood seeped from his slashed palms, trickling slowly down the surface of the box.

His growth had been faster than even he had estimated. He had initially thought he could only contend with the peak of the Jing-Refining stage, but in this complex environment, after disrupting his opponent's rhythm, he had briefly held a glimmer of hope that he might kill that Sea-Wheel cultivator.

But he was no longer facing just one Sea-Wheel; he was facing enemies ten or a hundred times his strength.

Still, regardless of the odds, all he could do was give everything he had.

Despairing, lethal intent surfaced in Ye Mingke’s pupils, yet his body dragged the sword box forward with indomitable resolve. Breath and force united, and cyan energy surged through his body.

"How bold, you brat."

The cultivator with the sword-crest crown—who had been nearly severely wounded by Ye Mingke just moments before—saw the boy choosing him as the breakthrough point again. With a roar of fury, he slashed his long blade horizontally. A biting chill accompanied the strike, and a deep blue ripple shimmered in the path of the blade.

As the ripple expanded, Ye Mingke felt the air around him turn viscous. Every wisp of moisture seemed to bind his movements, and dense clusters of ice needles began to condense, poised to pierce every inch of his skin.

The blade was already upon him, while the barefoot cultivator with the dragon staff circled to his rear, cutting off his retreat as a continuous chain of earth spikes erupted from behind and both sides.

Earth and water—the powerful spiritual domains of two Sea-Wheel cultivators overlapped, locking every path of escape.

Escape was impossible in every direction.

Yet, even paper can cut steel; he would not yield.

Charging toward the sword-crowned cultivator, Ye Mingke’s eyes widened with a savage roar. Lacking a sword, he used the sword box as one. He pushed his spiritual eye and analytical faculties to their limit, a flood of massive information rushing through his mind as he calculated frantically.

The blade was inches from his chest; the ice needles had already pricked his skin; the earth spikes had woven a cage of thorns around him.

Ye Mingke raised the sword box high.

But his grip faltered.

Because… he could not find that line. That seam.

"Nothing in this world is a perfect whole. All things have seams, and all can be severed!"

The words of Uncle Sword seemed to echo in his ears.

But, Uncle…

Leaping to the apex of his jump, Ye Mingke looked up from within the cage of thorns toward the murky, chaotic sky.

Does fate have a seam?

Can it be severed?

Ye Mingke roared as he swung the sword box toward the incoming blade, pouring every ounce of his cyan energy into it, exhausting all his strength.

"Boom!"

Fierce, heroic, yet futile.

Uncle, I cannot find the line.

The cyan energy collided with the deep blue spiritual power on the blade, repelling it for a fleeting moment.

But against a Sea-Wheel cultivator who had communed with heaven and earth to form a spiritual sea within, the cyan energy, while sharp, was far too weak. Moments later, it was overwhelmed by the surging water-attribute spiritual power and shattered with a thunderous crash.

The sword box vibrated violently and flew from his grip.

The blade continued forward, striking Ye Mingke squarely in the chest through the gap where the box had been. He sprayed a mist of blood and was sent flying backward.

With a sickening "squelch," he slammed into a curved, slender earth spike, which pierced through his body.

Ye Mingke clutched his perforated right chest, struggling to pull himself free. He slumped to his knees with a dull thud, unable to stand.

Outside the cage of thorns, the two cultivators approached slowly, wielding their spirit weapons with the smiles of cats toying with a mouse.

Blood flowed freely from his chest wound.

His entire body was riddled with tiny punctures from the hidden ice needles, and as they bled, his clothes quickly turned into a crimson shroud.

He could feel his blood growing hotter, his wounds beginning to knit together ever so slightly.

His body seemed to sense the threat of death, desperately stimulating every ounce of his potential.

But it was too late. The two Sea-Wheel cultivators were beyond his ability to counter, and the aura of the Tongyuan-stage expert was now close. Through the haze of dust and smoke, the expert locked onto him from nearby—the end was imminent.

Uncle, I cannot go on.

Uncle, not everything in this world has a seam. Or perhaps the seam exists, but I am not strong enough to sever it.

Footsteps drew near. The clarity in Ye Mingke’s eyes was gradually swallowed by the color of despair.

But just then, the sword box before him moved.

"Thump," "thump."

A heavy heartbeat echoed across the battlefield.

Ye Mingke reached out and pressed his hand onto the sword box.

The box, stained with his own blood, trembled faintly.

At that moment, the Tongyuan-stage cultivator stepped out of the fog. The expansion of his spiritual domain swept across the field with overwhelming pressure.

But at that same instant, another thunderous sound of footsteps erupted from the mist.

A thin, blood-stained figure dashed out, hurling a magnificent, powerful punch toward the Tongyuan-stage cultivator who had just emerged.

The two figures collided and immediately recoiled, separating with a thunderous boom.

The thin figure turned back, and Ye Mingke looked up, seeing two pairs of eyes—both equally bloodshot, filled with sorrow and desperate pleading.

"Do not die."

"Wood, do not die."

It was Liu Xi, covered in blood, with A-Ru clinging to her back.

...

Liu Xi was not dead.

When the many cultivators joined forces to cast the Great Radiance Technique, the Old Beggar had used his Round-Tribulation Fist to dissipate and redirect the majority of its power into the ground.

Though she had taken the brunt of the remaining spiritual overflow and suffered significant injuries, she had not lost consciousness. When the shockwave scattered them, she still had the strength to save A-Ru.

A-Ru was clutching her neck tightly, protected from any serious harm.

She was fortunate, yet also deeply unlucky.

Because the first priority of most cultivators landing in the ruins was to find her—the one with the highest combat strength. The intelligence report had marked her as a martial arts genius who could kill Sea-Wheel cultivators at barely twenty years of age.

A martial arts prodigy with greater talent than her father, and potentially greater future achievements.

But she had never thought to avoid the battle. When she heard the sounds of fighting nearby, she had rushed toward it.

Because she was the strongest among the survivors—whether it was A-Ru, Xu Zixian, or Ye Mingke, who had only practiced martial arts for seven days.

They needed her.

But she had barely advanced before the first Sea-Wheel cultivator discovered her, followed by a second, then a third. The Tongyuan-stage cultivator, an enchanting female with a pink spirit snake coiled around her neck, had waved her hand from afar upon seeing her, sending a sea of burning red spiritual energy to engulf her.

Carrying A-Ru, with a pale face, the woman leaped through the ruins like lightning and thunder, charging forward with indomitable spirit.

She punched through a spell just as it began to form, but her momentum was forced back.

Not far away, the boy’s shrill, agonizing roar echoed.

The other two Sea-Wheel cultivators had also closed in on her, launching fierce attacks.

Three cultivators, three directions, forming an unbreakable perimeter.

"Sister, save Wood, I will help you."

A-Ru hugged Liu Xi tightly. On the delicate little face pressed against Liu Xi’s neck, those hazy, beautiful eyes held a spinning, dancing grey-blue fire.

The body of the Sea-Wheel cultivator closest to Liu Xi suddenly stiffened. Though it lasted only for an instant, Liu Xi, moving like wind and thunder, seized that moment to close in and grab the cultivator by the shoulder.

Liu Xi did not slow her high-speed dash; she forced the cultivator’s body down and dragged him across the rubble. With a thunderous rumble, she carved a deep trench into the debris-strewn ground in an instant.

The other two cultivators were stunned. Liu Xi had already released the Sea-Wheel cultivator, who was too shocked to even scream, and stepped forward like thunder to charge into the other battlefield, throwing a punch at the most powerful enemy.

Afterward, she looked back at the blood-drenched boy.

"Do not die!"

Her bloodshot, gentle eyes were, at this moment, infinitely tender yet infinitely strong.

But just then, she saw two cultivators, already standing before Ye Mingke, unleash terrifying spells toward him with all their might.

In her red-rimmed eyes, despair and helplessness flashed.

...

"Do not die."

The moment Ye Mingke saw the sudden appearance of Liu Xi and A-Ru, he felt a faint voice echoing from the sword box he was pressing his hand against.

"Mingke, do not die."

"Live strongly, live happily, find your sword."

Ye Mingke seemed to see Uncle Sword, who had forged the sword box by the furnace, turning back to speak to him. The voice was always calm, yet it was filled with the deepest expectations and the heaviest hopes.