Chapter 28: Ninth Fortress Part 2

But An He had underestimated Gu Xianqing’s madness. They were evenly matched, both utterly deranged without realizing it!

The wasteland night was bitterly cold and piercing.

Gu Xianqing didn’t dodge either. Her blade momentum didn’t falter; in the instant An He’s hand was about to touch her, the dagger precisely grazed across An He’s palm in a swift stroke.

The icy sensation jolted An He sharply. Her palm’s skin was unharmed, but the emerging mycelium threads were severed at the root with a wet splat, tumbling into the yellow soil.

In An He’s hands, those mycelium would have just ended up as sludge. But here, sliced clean off, they met an even more brutal end.

“See, I do know what you’re up to. Trying to control me, huh?” Gu Xianqing’s lips curved slightly, but her gaze was as cold as a blade. She lunged at An He, seizing her shoulders and snapping her knee up with ruthless speed.

The feel of An He’s palm was solid—the results of her ten days of training weren’t bad. She was no longer that helpless lamb who didn’t know how to use her limbs; now An He even knew some basic grappling. Fine then—Gu Xianqing suddenly accelerated, slamming her knee harder into An He’s abdomen!

“Urgh…” Too close to avoid, An He took the hit squarely. Her stomach twisted in agony from the impact, sharpening her focus even more.

After that brief pause, the frenzied rhythm exploded anew. An He gritted her teeth, bending at the waist with the momentum before spinning back, her left foot lashing viciously at Gu Xianqing’s gut.

Gu Xianqing’s wound hadn’t fully healed yet, had it? Even if it had, that wouldn’t stop her from adding another one!

The dust beneath their feet billowed up, the flying grit settling on their clothes only to be flung off by their rapid movements. Bone-crunching blows mingled with flashing blades—aside from the faint thuds of impacts, neither uttered a cry of pain.

The long night held only rustling whispers.

So it was only when Little Bit happened to glance back that she spotted the two fighting on the distant hillside!

Little Bit snatched up her baseball bat to rush in and help, but Yan Qiong yanked her back by the collar: “Grown-ups fighting—kids stay out of it!”

Heli was both shocked and scared, originally wanting to go back and break it up too. But hearing Yan Qiong’s words, she froze, unsure whether to move or not.

What the hell? How did they start fighting out of nowhere?

Only Yan Qiong was grinning ear-to-ear. Her finger crooked outside the trigger guard as she “gently” persuaded them with the rifle barrel, nudging the pair to turn around: “Eyes front, ladies. Let’s get moving.”

No one could interfere in Gu Xianqing’s business.

…

An He retreated two meters, dropping to one knee. She clenched her teeth hard, veins bulging at her temples. Her dust scarf had been torn away by Gu Xianqing, and a stabbing pain lanced through her lungs.

The pain furrowed her brow, wrinkling the skin between her eyebrows and nose bridge like a raging beast.

She refused to believe it! She wouldn’t lose at every turn!

An He let out a silent roar and charged at Gu Xianqing. A meter away, she kicked off the ground, leaping into the air with a whoosh, her fist smashing toward the other’s face with whistling force.

Gu Xianqing tilted her head back, her pupils reflecting An He and the moonlight behind her—like an elongated musical note. This yellow sand and cold moon suited them perfectly!

Their gazes locked, sparks of clash igniting the air. Gu Xianqing pressed her lips together against the pain, her boiling blood making her tremble.

In the instant An He’s fist descended, Gu Xianqing grabbed her collar. The two slammed together and rolled to the ground, tumbling down the slope without stopping.

Machete and dagger both clattered away, burying in the yellow sand.

Face-to-face, their eyes held only each other. Scalding sweat plastered their temples, heartbeats drumming in sync, even their striking speeds matched.

Like an endless flurry of reversals, they refused to yield. Primal, crude, merciless punches hammered at each other’s faces.

An He fired rapid fists, her knees clamping Gu Xianqing’s waist and abdomen in a death grip. Sensing Gu Xianqing’s chest heaving wildly from the restraint, An He felt exhilarated—the thrill made her heart pound with pain. She’d finally seized the advantage, hammering down with brutal fists.

Their scorching breaths taunted, searing nerve endings. They could clearly see each other’s eyelashes, so An He also saw the mockery and disdain in those deep eyes.

The moment they rolled to the slope’s bottom, with Gu Xianqing pinned beneath, she licked the blood from her lips with her tongue tip and flashed a grin.

Like the melody had vanished, yielding to her, the blood made her smile demonically alluring, her confidence blazing with victory in hand. An He’s scalp prickled, goosebumps erupting instantly.

Right then, Gu Xianqing elbowed the arm An He used to choke her. In An He’s pained flinch, her other hand clamped An He’s nape, yanking her down hard.

Their distance closed by brute force—An He thought Gu Xianqing would headbutt her, but no. With noses nearly touching, Gu Xianqing hooked An He’s heel with her leg, thrust her hips up, powered through, and flipped.

In one fluid, near-perfect sequence, the tide turned.

Gu Xianqing used a judo bridge-up to effortlessly flip An He, mounting her with solid legs pinning her down more firmly and steadily.

“This is called a bridge-up.” Gu Xianqing immediately pinned An He’s wrists, one left one right, with seasoned precision. “Your combat experience is still too shallow. Learned a few days and think you can take me?”

An He twisted her waist, trying to break free.

Gu Xianqing stared mockingly at An He’s blood-flushed eyes, her ragged breaths washing over An He’s face. She enunciated each word like a warning: “Don’t struggle. I could crack your skull open easily.”

Gu Xianqing was even colder than last time, more vicious, more skilled in combat. Her blood-smeared red lips sent involuntary shivers through An He—fear and loss of control.

An He realized Gu Xianqing had many more tricks up her sleeve.

Pain registered: her abdomen throbbed under Gu Xianqing’s weight, wrists ached, face stung from earlier blows. Her neck, hidden by her jacket, pulsed with bruised veins; her mouth was parched.

But that pain mirrored on Gu Xianqing too, bringing An He a twisted pleasure amid the agony. Neither had it easy.

“Crack my skull? Go ahead, try it.” An He went limp. “Can you even bring yourself to?”

Gu Xianqing eyed her oddly: “You think I can’t?”

“Of course…” An He murmured, “not.”

In that suspended moment, after the lingering echoes faded, An He surged up with her final weapon—her teeth, sinking viciously into Gu Xianqing’s neck!

What did Asta say? Only idiots expose their neck and wrists!

Gu Xianqing’s clothes were already torn in the fight, leaving her neck bare. An He bit down like a beast claiming prey, clamping the fragile lifeline. Nestsoul or human, if it bled, it could be hurt!

Gu Xianqing grunted in pain.

She’d felt An He’s fangs before and knew their sharpness. The piercing agony broke skin as An He suckled blood.

An He wouldn’t let go, saliva forcing her to swallow, hot breaths blasting the vulnerable flesh. Gu Xianqing tightened her grip on An He’s wrists, arching her body.

Her mind seemed drained away; the blood-fueled frenzy and craving teased fragile nerves.

They were intimately fused, blood and flesh merging—but the urge to kill and conquer blared like shredding electric guitar, amplified endlessly.

In that instant, Gu Xianqing felt something crawling up her hand.

Shit! The bite was a feint— she’d missed blocking the mycelium.

After the faint sting, Gu Xianqing clearly felt her grip on An He loosen—though she hadn’t willed it.

An He released the neck, wiping the blood from her lips. A tooth mark marred Gu Xianqing’s pale throat. An He didn’t care if it was pretty; it was her badge of victory.

An He touched the “badge,” grinning slyly: “Turns out Parasite works on Nestsouls too.” Makes sense—Nestsouls were part spirit after all.

An He was thrilled; her new Innate Talent was great. Tough process, but she’d unlocked a fresh application.

She pondered seriously: Gu Xianqing had always controlled her. Now, what to make Gu Xianqing do?

Two seconds later, Gu Xianqing watched her own hand rise, four fingers together, thumb extended—heading for her own throat.

Make her strangle herself?

Gu Xianqing’s gaze iced over with boundless rage. Ha, so this is what it feels like to lose control of your limbs, being puppeted.

But An He underestimated the mental fortitude of a Nestsoul detached from its body, wandering the wastes for years.

Gu Xianqing steadied her breath, her hair dancing with the wasteland wind. Her soul, her will, was linked to the deepest darkness of this land. Drone-like flutes undulated softly in her ears, every sense razor-sharp. Suddenly, the wind died; the drones vanished.

Her raised hand veered midair, posture unchanged—slap, raking across An He’s cheek.

She’d dispelled the Parasite. And slapped An He.

An He was utterly stunned.

A fist to the face versus a slap—the difference in humiliating impact was massive.

What kind of insult buff is this?! Fighting’s one thing—slapping faces at will?!

She’d hijacked Gu Xianqing’s mind!

Rage surged in An He. She shoved Gu Xianqing away, rolling aside to half-kneel, activating Shatterblade Time in a flash.

An He drew her wrist blade and charged Gu Xianqing. In the second before stabbing down, a faint sound pierced her ears.

A pebble kicked— from the dirt mound to their right front. Thanks to Shatterblade Time, the noise stretched, alerting her.

Gu Xianqing heard it too; her hearing was keener. With the time dilation, one quick, one slow, they whipped their heads. Peripheral vision caught a flashing shadow.

Someone!

The two, inches apart, halted their fight in perfect sync, redirecting their assault. Without hesitation, they struck front and rear!

Whoosh!

An He’s wrist blade redirected, hurtling toward the shadow.

Three seconds later, Gu Xianqing’s thrown weapon followed—a metal spike pried from her belt.

Like swords piercing the night veil, a crisp buzz rang out in the dark. The clashing “instruments” finally synced to one track, pounding a sharp rhythm.

Shatterblade Time hadn’t ended; in the frozen space, only weapons raced. The lurker dodged too slowly— in a blink, An He’s wrist blade pierced the rising dust, impaling the left shoulder clean through!

Gu Xianqing’s metal spike arrived late but undiminished, embedding in the right arm.

The “piano” hammered its final key; only then did blood spray from the blade tip.