Chapter 36: Cloud Grief and Sunken Grass Part 1

What could a Gu parasite have to do with a snake?

Under the moonlight, the snake’s pupils glowed with an eerie green light—a shimmering, ghostly luminescence that suggested a venom of no ordinary kind.

In the brief moment their gazes met, Feng Yun’ai found herself unable to move. It was as if her soul had been snatched away, her limbs frozen and pinned to the spot.

The crawling itch within her flesh seemed to come alive, surging with a sudden, frantic joy as it bored rapidly toward her neck. This unbearable, surging sensation climbed past her throat, seemingly intent on seizing her brain. It made her mouth, nose, ears, and even her eyes burn with intense heat.

It was so hot…

She felt as if she were about to spontaneously combust, a fire destined to incinerate the last shreds of her self-control. It felt as though, from this moment on, she would be reduced to nothing more than a puppet for others to slaughter.

This strange sense of detachment terrified Feng Yun’ai. While her thoughts were a raging torrent, her physical form remained rigid. She could only manage the slightest twitch of her fingers, as if her spirit had already partially vacated her body.

What had caused the Subordinate Gu inside her to suddenly go berserk?

The only thing Feng Yun’ai could think of was the Mother Gu. Every time Sang Chencao exerted control over her, her body reacted this way, though it had been milder before—she had always retained a sliver of strength to resist.

Now, resistance was out of the question. Her gaze was fixed, her eyes glued to the pitch-black venomous snake.

Could the Mother Gu be inside the snake? It would explain why Sang Chencao kept the creature with her at all times, hiding it away so carefully.

But if it truly was inside, how could the Gu be removed?

Feng Yun’ai attempted to meditate and regulate her breathing, desperately pushing against the blockages in her meridians. In an instant, her blood surged, and the metallic taste of crimson rose in the back of her throat.

Seizing that brief moment of clarity, she reached out and snatched the snake by its head, pulling it toward her.

It was a terrifying creature, its body marked by concentric blue rings and scales that shimmered with a silver light.

She had intended to pin the snake against her shoulder, but without warning, the snake’s jaws snapped open, sinking its fangs into the side of her neck.

In that heartbeat, the itching numbness that had been surging toward the top of her skull seemed to find a destination. Guided by the bite, the sensation began to drain out through the wound, bit by agonizing bit.

Just a little more…

Feng Yun’ai let out a soft sigh of relief, only to hear a puzzled “Hmm?” from beside her.

Sang Chencao slowly opened her eyes. In the instant her vision cleared, the Black Snake had already coiled back around her wrist, returning to its obedient, docile state. Its mouth was closed, and it no longer stared with those piercing eyes.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Sang Chencao asked with a light sneer. “Is your energy so boundless that you want to walk another mile or two to test the Gu?”

Feng Yun’ai pressed herself against the rough bark of the tree, hiding the bite mark on her neck from the woman’s view. She pursed her lips and remained silent, feeling the last remnants of the itch at the wound site finally fade into nothingness.

She understood now. It seemed the Mother Gu really was inside the snake. With that one bite, the majority of the Subordinate Gu had been recalled, though a small portion remained.

Without a word, Sang Chencao drew her Flexible sword, the tip whipping out with a sharp tsing.

Feng Yun’ai’s brow furrowed as she resisted the urge to draw Solitary Gall. Fortunately, the Flexible sword didn’t cut her; instead, it wound itself tightly around her waist.

Anger flared within her. “I can’t leave,” she said coldly. “You know that perfectly well.”

Sang Chencao toyed with the hilt, giving a nonchalant hum. “It’s not that I’m afraid you’ll run. In these desolate mountains, where could you possibly go? This isn’t the imperial highway. Do you even know the way to Cloud City?”

Feng Yun’ai truly didn’t. Throughout the journey, the indigo-clothed woman had been the one steering the horse, choosing extremely remote mountain paths as if deliberately trying to disorient her.

The woman was deeply calculating and truly malicious.

Just by reading Feng Yun’ai’s expression, Sang Chencao had her answer. She scoffed, “I won’t hurt you. This is just to stop you from rummaging through my clothes in the middle of the night looking for an antidote.”

“Does an antidote even exist?” Feng Yun’ai asked, feigning ignorance and pretending she hadn’t just been bitten by the snake.

Sang Chencao merely smiled without answering, closing her eyes to return to sleep.

With the Flexible sword wrapped around her waist, there was no way Feng Yun’ai could sleep. She was terrified that if she relaxed for even a second, the blade might slice her in half. Especially since the woman holding the sword had her eyes shut, looking as if she were oblivious to the world—who knew if her hand might slip?

Eventually, knowing the indigo-clothed woman wouldn’t easily take her life, Feng Yun’ai gave up and closed her eyes as well.

Yet the moment Feng Yun’ai’s lids lowered, the woman beside her snapped her eyes open as if by some trickery. She stared at Feng Yun’ai unblinkingly, a meaningful smile playing on her lips, her mind seemingly filled with a hundred ways to torment her.

Sang Chencao stared blatantly, her scorching gaze eventually felt by Feng Yun’ai.

“What do you want now?” Feng Yun’ai asked, her patience at its end.

Sang Chencao tugged on the Flexible sword, forcing the other woman to lean closer. With a sharp weapon coiled around her, it was an undeniable coercion.

Feng Yun’ai braced her palms against the ground, leaning forward. Because of the white Eye veil, she had to squint to see the woman clearly.

Sang Chencao reached out and unveiled her, leaning in close. “I was thinking… if you truly have to go up on the Sword Testing Platform, would it be difficult to win with this veil covering your eyes?”

To use the heart as a sword, the sword becomes the eyes. Even if the vision is obscured, one should be able to perceive everything through the wind, the rain, and falling blossoms. When the wind moves, the heart moves; when the sword moves, the body becomes light.

This was the goal of every swordsman, the pinnacle of Feng Rong’s Solitary Peak Sword Art.

But Feng Yun’ai knew her cultivation was nowhere near Feng Rong’s level. She could not yet fully merge her five senses into her blade.

Sang Chencao let out a soft “tch,” her breath fluttering against Feng Yun’ai’s cheek. “But if you don’t wear the veil, how will those people recognize you at a glance?”