In that split second, the controlled Sang Chencao swung Solitary Gall. Her meridians were being forced, her inner breath leaking out in a violent torrent. That single swing felt as if it could cleave the very landscape.
The Extreme Flame Inner Qi blasted toward Feng Yun’ai’s face. In a heartbeat, she was drenched in hot sweat, while the freezing snow crushed down from behind. She was trapped between ice and fire.
Feng Yun’ai refused to let them both perish. She drove her internal power backward to blast the snow away, but Sang Chencao was already upon her.
She twisted her body. The sword tip missed her heart but skewered her shoulder. Scorching inner qi surged into her through the blade, nearly making her lose her mind to the demonic state.
Feng Yun’ai hurriedly shifted her internal breath. She grabbed Sang Chencao’s wrist to pull the sword out, but her partner’s skin was hotter than usual. Just a brief touch felt like it would sear her palm.
She couldn’t see the nightmare threads on Sang Chencao, but she saw the insects that had been following them. They swarmed onto the colorless, odorless threads, outlining their path perfectly.
That was enough!
Feng Yun’ai was at the end of her strength. Enduring the pain, she gathered her resolve and manifested a hundred sword shadows.
The sword intent was stern, a vast sea of silver light that changed the very color of the sky. This strike was capable of turning stone to water and collapsing the mountains.
The sword qi didn’t just sever the threads on Sang Chencao; it followed the path of the broken silk, climbing straight toward the summit.
Ten thousand sword lights pierced the sky. They merged into an earth-shattering roar, and the falling snow was blasted apart, carved open into a wide, clear path.
The lights converged into a single beam that vanished into the clouds. A moment later, a thunderous explosion echoed as the rocks at the summit were pulverized.
Freed from the nightmare threads, Sang Chencao gasped for air. Her eyes were bloodshot, her expression dark and ghostly as she squinted.
Feng Yun’ai swayed, her consciousness fading. Her limbs were weak and painful, and a stabbing ache throbbed in her mind. Holding the sword in her left hand, she weakly tried to raise her mangled right hand to touch Sang Chencao.
Sang Chencao pressed her arm down, using that brief moment to straighten her own meridians. She then swept the other woman into her arms and leaped along the clear path toward the heavens.
Feng Yun’ai’s eyes flickered on the edge of unconsciousness. “The sword qi followed the threads,” she murmured. “If the Sect Master was holding them… they must be severely wounded.”
“I know.” Sang Chencao had bitten her tongue during the struggle, and her mouth was filled with the metallic taste of blood. “Rest easy, Xiuxiu.”
The wind and snow, once controlled by the fan, were now suppressed by the lingering intent of Lonely Heart and Solitary Gall.
Yet before they could reach the peak, they seemed to fall into a maze. Everything became hazy and heavy; they lost their sense of direction.
Sang Chencao stiffened. “Bright Moon Spring? How does the Guiyuan Sect know the secret formation of the Moonlight Sect!”
Feng Yun’ai was stunned. She hadn’t expected the Moonlight Sect to have footprints here. A chill ran down her spine—Feng Rong’s reputation had only just been restored. If this was linked to the Moonlight Sect, would her master be implicated again?
“Break it first, talk later,” Sang Chencao sneered. “Luckily, Wen Lanxin didn’t hold anything back.”
She rotated her wrist, slashing out a hundred purple sword qi. They flew into the distance, converging into a pattern. The qi was deep violet, looking like a poisonous, budding flower.
The strikes crossed and then diverged, striking stones that rattled across the ground.
Feng Yun’ai was confused. This mountain was covered in snow and was not a rocky peak; where did these stones come from?
As the snow was blasted away, the stones hidden beneath were revealed. They were arranged in a specific pattern, each carved with floral designs nearly identical to those on Listening Goose Peak. This formation was undoubtedly…
The Bright Moon Spring.
“As I thought,” Sang Chencao said disdainfully.
The two figures moved like birds through the clouds, finally catching sight of the Guiyuan Sect hidden at the summit. The sky felt closer here, and the lanterns hanging about were dim, exuding an air of death.
The three characters for “Guiyuan Sect” were carved into the high gates with immense force, hiding a sense of stubbornness and an indescribable hatred.
Wherever the Lonely Heart Sword had passed, there was wreckage. Over a dozen people lay motionless on the ground, all with the same injuries—they had clearly been used as human shields to intercept the sword qi.
Thousands of broken threads, now stained red, trailed softly toward the grand hall in the distance. The hall was silent. There was no sign of the Sect Master.
Sang Chencao supported Feng Yun’ai and blew her bug whistle. The shrill sound summoned insects from every corner. Instead of gathering toward her, the swarm surged toward the grand hall.
Sang Chencao let out a low, ghost-like laugh. “Hiding? So you’re in the hall.”
Right then, a trembling, mocking voice of an old woman echoed from within.
“The Moonlight Sect has successors. Sun Qi took in Wen Lanxin and Feng Rong… and after Wen and Feng, she actually took in the likes of you.”
