Volume Two: Mortal World Chapter Eighty-Four: Killing with Words

A torrent of roaring fire blazed across the snowy night.

In the flickering light, two figures were flung apart, each hurtling in a sharply divergent direction.

The monstrous youth rolled on the ground to dissipate his forward momentum, then sprang up once more. Like a demon cat, he bounded from tree to tree, swiftly changing direction to pounce at Old Yi again.

Old Yi wiped the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth—a result of channeling too much spiritual power and injuring his organs. Steadying himself, he gripped his spirit sword tightly, eyes bright and grave as he stared at the monstrous youth closing in once more.

Though lightly wounded, he had managed to reverse the predicament of having lost the initiative.

As long as he did not err, how could someone of the Meridian Realm possibly lose to a mere mortal?

A shower of stones, carried by the fierce wind, preceded the monstrous youth’s attack. Yet Old Yi stood unmoved. A fiery red aura spread from beneath his feet, expanding to cover a radius of thirty feet.

Two curtains of fire erupted in the snowy night—one close, encircling Old Yi, and one further off, rising nearly ten feet high and five feet away, trapping the monstrous youth and confining his movement to a narrow space.

The snow-dusted stones crashed against Old Yi’s fiery barrier, causing it to shudder violently. Most stones were blocked, and those few that slipped through could do him no harm.

The monstrous youth, about to pounce, abruptly halted, warily leaping onto the sole snow pine within the clearing. His scarlet, beast-like eyes fixed on the two fire curtains—one near, one far. Instinct warned him that a reckless charge would leave him severely burned at the very least.

Maintaining both fire curtains at once left Old Yi’s face pale, but it was the surest method he could devise. Now, he needed only a swift conclusion.

As the firelight flickered, a crimson sword-light shot forth, cleaving the snow pine where the youth hid in two. The surging flame followed along the sword’s path, igniting the tree into a blazing torch in the dark.

The monstrous youth leapt down from the falling pine, dashing rapidly through the snow, yet there was nowhere left to run or hide.

The blazing curtains of fire and the burning pine illuminated the cramped clearing as if it were daylight, revealing every detail.

His every move was clearly visible, and with no more cover, his innate combat prowess had no room to be displayed.

The youth, circling the edge like a trapped beast, could not retreat.

He howled, hurling more stones he’d just found, while making a desperate dash toward Old Yi’s fire curtain.

But the stones were blocked once more, and as the youth closed in, the fiery spirit sword forced him back, slashing a long, bloody gash across his arm.

Driven back, the monstrous youth’s hot, crimson blood spilled onto the snow, leaving a vivid trail.

Where his blood touched the snow, it sizzled and quickly melted into water.

Seeing this, Old Yi’s gaze sharpened. As the legends said—this creature’s blood was no different.

He truly had the Imperial Physique.

The rich reward for capturing one with the Imperial Physique rekindled courage in Old Yi’s once-timid heart.

He hesitated no longer; the outer fire curtain began to close in rapidly. With the burning pine nearly consumed, the clearing grew scorching, the very air seeming to ignite.

Old Yi pressed closer to the monstrous youth. Amid the dazzling firelight, his shout intertwined with the youth’s desperate roar.

Blood streamed from the youth, who was now cornered utterly. Yet Old Yi controlled his sword’s power with care—giving the creature no chance to retaliate, nor to die.

Seizing an opening, he unleashed a fierce, spirit-infused strike with his sword, the force slashing the youth from a distance.

The monstrous youth spat blood, his body staggering helplessly toward the burning pine.

A flash of ecstasy crossed Old Yi’s face as he reached to seize the youth. But at that instant, a thunderous roar split the night.

Instinctively, Old Yi recoiled, withdrawing his hand and leaping back.

A massive greatsword tore through the outer fire curtain, smashing heavily between Ye Mingke and Old Yi.

A dark silhouette burst in from beyond the flames, scooping up the collapsing Ye Mingke and rolling past the burning pine.

The two landed heavily. Ye Mingke was unconscious, while the figure holding him slowly raised her head, revealing the coldly beautiful face of a woman, gazing steadily at the stunned Old Yi.

…

The night was fading; ahead, the mountain pass began to glow with the gentle warmth of dawn.

In the bitter cold, Li Han, who had carried Aru on his back through the mountains all night, finally let out a breath of relief. His nerves, drawn taut for so long, eased a little upon seeing the first light and the mountain pass.

He slowed his steps, exhaling mist, steadying his breath, and gazed toward the pass as he pressed on, one step at a time.

Once out of the mountains, surely things would improve. But had Brother Ye managed to escape as well?

Li Han’s weary mind struggled to plan their next move. Now that they’d provoked those immortals, there was no returning to Lijiazhuang. Where could he take Aru? Perhaps fleeing far to Yangjing—distance might bring safety, and he could sit for the spring examinations next year.

If he passed, perhaps they could settle in Yangjing, giving Aru a better life. And then, there was that other person…

Thinking of the girl on his back, and the woman far away, his eyes softened. Despite disaster, there was still hope.

If one day he could stand in the golden palace, he would surely advise the emperor to curb his excessive reverence for the immortal path. Whatever the outcome, he would do his part for this world.

Aru, pale-faced, clung to Li Han’s back, gazing with him at the approaching mountain pass.

So close now—the pass, bathed in warm morning light, finally opened its arms to them.

Li Han, unconsciously speeding up, suddenly froze mid-step, his face draining of color.

“Damn it.”

A curse rang out from a sheltered spot by the pass, out of their sight.

“They made us rush here from the county seat in the dead of night to guard the mountain passes—are those lords mad?” the rough voice complained.

“Hush, don’t speak carelessly. I hear this time it’s the Immortals of the Watch who named those three in the portrait.”

Li Han took a cautious step back and held his breath, turning to sneak away. But after only a few steps, his foot sank into a snow-filled hollow, making a muffled sound.

“Did you hear something?” came a voice from the shelter.

Li Han’s heart clenched. He broke into a run.

“Who’s there?”

“Stop!”

The shouts of the guards behind burst into chaos.

Li Han panted heavily, running for his life.

“It’s the headman from Lijiazhuang!”

“And that girl!”

“Catch them!”

The guards, now alert, began to close in.

Li Han, exhausted from a night’s flight, could not match the fresh strength of the soldiers behind. He could feel them rapidly closing the distance.

“Don’t run!”

“Keep running and we won’t be polite!”

In moments, they were only steps away, swords scraping from their sheaths.

Frightened, Aru began to cry again. A burly soldier lunged forward, yanking Aru from Li Han’s back. The terrified girl screamed in terror.

“No!”

Li Han staggered forward, falling to the ground, but quickly scrambled up and hurled himself at the soldier like a madman, eyes bloodshot and ferocious.

“Damn you!”

Curses and Aru’s shrill cries mingled in chaos.

The soldier, startled by Li Han’s frenzy, held tight to Aru and retreated two steps. Another soldier moved to intercept Li Han, but was knocked down by his furious assault.

In the soldier’s grasp, Aru reached desperately for Li Han, who with a roar seized her back.

The burly guard, enraged, clung to Aru, but Li Han, with a guttural shout, crashed into him headlong, knocking him flat and forcing him to release her.

“You lunatic!”

The guard, both angry and alarmed, raised his blade.

A sudden hush fell over the chaos.

A single crimson drop fell from the tip of the blade.

A cold wind swept in from the mountains, howling mournfully at the pass.

Li Han, clutching Aru tightly, was deathly pale—almost translucent. He felt no pain, only an overwhelming chill that drained all strength from his body.

The burly guard, still a bit shocked, stepped back and drew his bloodied short sword.

Li Han, holding Aru, slowly sank to his knees in the snow. A spreading pool of blood blossomed beneath them, a sorrowful, vivid flower in the white.

“Aru, don’t be afraid. Father will protect you. Father will never let anyone separate us.”

His consciousness fading, Li Han lowered his head, resting it against Aru’s twin-braided hair, murmuring gently.

Aru, no longer crying, hugged him tightly, her tear-streaked face pressed to his chest.

A clear, bell-like voice sounded softly from his embrace.

“Papa.”

Aru spoke softly. Li Han, struggling against the darkness, forced his eyes open, looking ahead as if searching for a word he had longed ten years to hear.

“Papa.”

Aru called him once more, lifting her pale, tear-stained face to look at her father’s steadfast profile.

It was the first time she had ever called him by that tender name. It might also be the last.

“Papa, I’ll protect you too. I’ll never let anyone separate us, either.”

“If anyone tries to tear us apart…”

She turned her tear-streaked face toward the soldiers surrounding them. Her voice, crisp and ethereal as a wind chime under an ancient eave, carried a deep, haunting cadence, as if echoing from a distant, frozen abyss.

“Aru will kill them.”

She gazed at them, silent tears in her eyes flickering with a ghostly blue light.

Suddenly, the falling snow turned fierce, but it was no longer white—it had become a dead, ashen gray.