Chapter 75: Extreme Flame and Eternal Frost Part 2

Sang Chencao looked up and smiled. “Xiuxiu, I told you we were a perfect match. Even if that Sorrowful Wind Fan can turn the world upside down, how could it ever endure the two of us?”

Feng Yun’ai remained stoic. Seeing Sang Chencao neutralize the avalanche and the wind, she immediately froze the water to prevent a landslide.

Snow-Top Peak was treacherous and steep. Even without the Sorrowful Wind Fan, a normal person would be gasping for breath halfway up. Now, two streaks of inner qi rose together like soaring fireworks—red and blue side-by-side, fire and frost intertwining.

But the Guiyuan Sect had more than just the fan. Thousands of nightmare threads fell silently like rain, landing all around them.

Only when her hands and feet were entwined did Feng Yun’ai realize the danger. Her expression shifted. She tried to snap the threads, only to find these nightmare threads were different from before. They were finer, more flexible, and nearly indestructible. The harder she struggled, the deeper the threads cut into her flesh. They were designed to garrote the victim using their own strength.

“Watch the nightmare threads,” Feng Yun’ai warned coldly.

Sang Chencao was also caught. She let out a cold huff and, disregarding the danger, flicked the bug whistle hanging from her neck into her mouth. In those few movements, her arms were already marked with shocking bloody gashes where the threads had bitten in.

The whistle blew. Insects hidden beneath the snow leaped out, swarming to gnaw at the nightmare threads.

However, Sang Chencao had underestimated them. Seeing that the insects couldn’t bite through, she endured the pain and swung her sword. As she lifted her arm, the threads sank into her skin, nearly shearing through her bones.

She wore indigo, so the blood soaking her clothes wasn’t obvious, but Feng Yun’ai was dressed in white. Red stains bloomed across Feng Yun’ai’s dress. Even after circulating her internal breath, she couldn’t shatter the threads.

“Xiuxiu, look out!” Sang Chencao suddenly lunged forward, parrying other incoming threads.

Because of her intervention, Feng Yun’ai managed to dodge, but a thread suddenly tightened around Sang Chencao’s throat. She couldn’t utter a single sound. Other threads even tried to force their way into her mouth to bind her jaw.

It was no wonder those controlled by the Nightmare Art were not only puppets in body but also in speech. These threads were truly ubiquitous, capable of turning a living person into a literal shadow puppet.

Sang Chencao clamped her teeth shut, her eyes remaining clear. She looked at Feng Yun’ai, her gaze saying everything.

The Sect Master of Guiyuan was truly formidable; their Nightmare Art was far superior to Lin Yaoyao’s.

All of Sang Chencao’s vital meridians and acupoints were bound, preventing her inner breath from flowing freely. Even as she grew dizzy from lack of oxygen, she didn’t dare open her mouth. If the threads entered her throat, she feared the words she spoke would no longer be her own.

Feng Yun’ai noticed her stiffen. Her heart sank. Enduring the agony of her wrists being sliced, she hacked through the nightmare threads on her own body.

With a single strike, her sword qi was like a whale drinking the sea, turning a hundred rivers to ice.

No matter how indestructible these threads were, they could not withstand the Lonely Heart Sword paired with the Lonely Heart Sword Technique. The sharpness of the technique was like a silver dragon rushing to the heavens, aiming for the North Star.

The sword sang. The threads binding Feng Yun’ai snapped. Having just forced her wrists free, the skin there was mangled as if by a saw. Her right hand hung limp, forced to switch the Lonely Heart Sword to her left.

The pain was agonizing, but if she paused for even a breath, the threads would find her again.

Feng Yun’ai pushed her internal breath to its absolute limit. Her body, which was never robust to begin with, trembled on the edge of collapse. For a moment, she felt as if her soul had left her shell. She felt weightless, her consciousness becoming blurred and hazy.

Was she… Entering a Demonic State?

She suddenly thought of Feng Rong. Her master had possessed the same constitution. Perhaps that was why there was such a secret chamber in the Archive of Listening Goose Peak. How many times had Feng Rong been pushed to this edge? And how had she stayed sane?

Feng Yun’ai didn’t know. Right now, she had only one thought: she had to save Sang Chencao from this hell.

In her blurred vision, Sang Chencao moved with a stumbling gait, her posture completely different from usual. Because of the suffocation and the pain, her eyes had become dull and vacant.

That wasn’t Sang Chencao.

In an instant, Feng Yun’ai’s five senses unified. She entered a state of transcendence. Inner qi erupted from her back, violently severing every nightmare thread sneaking up in the dark.

The Sorrowful Wind Fan swung again. Wind and snow rolled down from the clouds.

Without Solitary Gall to defend them, the mountains roared like a gluttonous beast, intending to swallow them whole.

Feng Yun’ai moved to cut the threads on Sang Chencao, but the puppeteer noticed. They manipulated Sang Chencao to use her own body as a shield. The tip of Feng Yun’ai’s sword was inches away from Sang Chencao’s heart.

No!

Feng Yun’ai retracted her blade. Above her, the snow was already upon them.