After Being Certified by the Immortal Lord on the Path of Ruthlessness - Chapter 46

A snake’s tail had coiled around her ankle, but in an instant, an ice blade ruthlessly pierced the clinging appendage.

 

Ye Qingge shook her foot free, a faint trace of disgust on her face, not sparing even a glance at the severed tail.

 

Her sword leapt from its sheath, swinging forward with deadly precision. In a heartbeat, its cold gleam pressed firmly against Wuli’s neck.

 

“I thought you were dead.” Wuli didn’t even blink, despite the steel at her throat. With a provocative smirk, she reached out and placed her fingertips on the edge of the blade. “What did you trade Shuanghan’s sword spirit for your life?”

 

The familiar, nauseating tone triggered an involuntary shiver in Ye Qingge. With a flick of her wrist, she withdrew the blade. Two of Wuli’s fingers fell to the ground with a wet thud, exposed bone entwined with clinging flesh, writhing grotesquely.

 

Wuli’s eyes widened, but her smirk remained, taunting as ever.

 

No sooner had the blade been withdrawn than it slashed forward again with a vicious intensity.

 

Wuli, who had been standing there moments before suddenly sprouted wings from her back and soared into the air, the severed finger bones on the ground following her upward.

Ye Qingge had already anticipated Wuli’s escape. The blade that had been aimed forward was retracted and thrust fiercely into the ground.

 

A snake’s tongue, poised to strike, was impaled by the blade driven deep into the soil.

 

Sijiu, who had intended to ambush her, was blinded by pain before she could even cry for help. Before she could react, her serpentine body was pierced by an ice blade.

 

“After all these years, it’s time to change your tactics,” Ye Qingge sneered coldly. She yanked her sword back and swung it straight ahead.

 

The sword in her hand was an ordinary iron weapon, lacking the lightness and agility of Shuanghan. Yet as she swung, the blade sliced through the air with a fierce, whistling sound.

 

Having not crossed blades with her in months, Wuli was taken aback by Ye Qingge’s reckless fighting style.

 

Sijiu, failing in her ambush and severely wounded, writhed in agony on the ground.

 

Yet Ye Qingge showed no hesitation; her ruthless and ferocious sword techniques were aimed directly at Wuli.

 

Wuli flapped her wings and soared higher, only to find that her opponent had already anticipated her move.

The blade pierced her wing, black blood corroding the sword as droplets fell onto the corpses below.

 

Fresh corpses instantly crumbled into piles of bones.

 

“Has it been so many months that you show no mercy?” Wuli roared in fury, her wings beating violently as she let out a bird-like cry.

 

Hidden in the dense forest beneath the corpses and behind the bronze statues, flocks of black soaring birds swarmed out in unison.

 

Countless snakes erupted from the ground simultaneously.

 

As the birds charged straight at her, Ye Qingge leaped swiftly into the air, closed her eyes, and began chanting an incantation.

 

Countless ice blades, guided by her spell, shot toward the oncoming flock. Yet as one wave fell, another took its place.

 

A metallic taste rose in Ye Qingge’s throat. She forced back a mouthful of blood.

 

The spiritual energy within her began to surge uncontrollably once more. Ye Qingge closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing.

 

Yet the final barrier she had been unable to break through had already corroded more than half of her spiritual power.

Though Wuli and Sijiu were wounded, the swarms of snakes and birds surged toward her like a black tidal wave.

 

Gradually, Ye Qingge’s strength waned, and the soaring birds before her blurred into double images.

 

Just as wave after wave of birds charged, the midday sun suddenly began to set.

 

Crash!

 

A thunderclap ripped through the distant sky, tearing apart the churning clouds.

 

The once-clear heavens darkened at a disturbingly rapid pace.

 

“The sky, it’s changed,” Ling Lan murmured, standing beneath the dilapidated temple and gazing upward.

 

Lightning split the sky, and the muffled thunderclap rolled like a drop of black ink spilling into water, instantly spreading darkness across the horizon.

 

It had already been two hours since Lu Jiu had ascended the mountain alone, yet the path remained eerily silent.

 

There was no sound of Lu Jiu nor did any more corpses roll down.

 

Not a single soul was ascending the mountain.

 

Ling Lan swallowed hard and cast a worried glance at the spiritual energy sphere floating beside her.

 

Inside, Jiang Mianhao still lay unconscious, suspended in the sphere. Her tightly shut eyelashes trembled ever so slightly in response to the roaring thunder.

 

Ling Lan pressed herself anxiously against the edge of the sphere.

 

Sure enough, the long, delicate eyelashes fluttered faintly, and the person inside the sphere slowly opened her eyes.

 

Jiang Mianhao blinked in confusion, but quickly regained her senses.

 

As she sat up, the sphere shattered with a soft crack, and the young girl landed steadily on her feet.

 

“Mianhao!” Ling Lan rushed forward, checking her over. “Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”

 

Before she could answer, Jiang Mianhao’s gaze darted around anxiously. “Where is Lu Jiu?”

 

It wasn’t the thunder that had woken her. It was the searing pain surging through her chest.

The metallic taste of blood spread across her throat, and her body was pushed to its absolute limit.

 

Ling Lan was taken aback by the question. She pursed her lips and remained silent.

 

A gnawing unease washed over Jiang Mianhao. She grabbed Ling Lan’s wrist, her voice trembling. “Where is Lu Jiu?”

 

“Lu Jiu,” Ling Lan said, pressing her lips tightly together, “she went up the mountain.”

 

Two hours earlier, after Ye Qingge had struck Jiang Mianhao at a pressure point and securely placed her into the spiritual energy sphere, she had set both Ling Lan and the sphere against the base of the wall. Then, without a word, she had surged after the soaring bird flying straight up the mountain.

 

Ling Lan, expecting to rest together, had been caught completely off guard. She had reached out instinctively but couldn’t even grasp the edge of Ye Qingge’s sleeve.

 

“Lu Jiu seemed to be chasing a dark shadow,” Ling Lan explained, “and went straight up the mountain like that. I wanted to follow, but I couldn’t control the spiritual energy sphere. I didn’t dare leave you alone, so I had to wait for you to wake up.”

 

Jiang Mianhao felt the pain in her chest intensifying, the metallic taste of blood surging up her throat, nearly impossible to suppress.

 

The matching pendant she wore against her skin now burned like a branding iron, scorching her heart.

 

Without a second thought, Jiang Mianhao said, “Let’s go up the mountain to find Lu Jiu.”

 

“I’ll go with you,” Ling Lan replied without hesitation. Her heart had followed Lu Jiu the moment she had left alone.

 

No matter how formidable Lu Jiu’s power, the sheer brutality of the massacre made Ling Lan break into a cold sweat.

 

They had barely taken two steps when Jiang Mianhao turned back and ran, suppressing the agony coursing through her body. She pulled two swords from the hands of the dead.

 

Ling Lan reached out and took one. Neither of them spoke another word as they began their ascent toward the mountaintop.

 

Eerie thunder roared above, lightning flashed across the sky, and the wind howled in their ears.

 

Jiang Mianhao’s heart raced uncontrollably, though her face remained calm as she forced herself to take one careful step after another.

 

Yet her body endured a pain far worse than anything she had ever experienced. A pain that did not belong to her, searing through her very bones.

If this pain wasn’t hers, then it had to be Lu Jiu’s.

 

What had happened to Lu Jiu?

 

Was she  alright?

 

The agony in Jiang Mianhao’s chest felt as though it would crush her heart. Her vision blurred, and dizziness threatened to topple her to the ground.

 

Swallowing hard, she raised her hand and clutched the matching pendant tightly. Lu Jiu, wait for me!

 

The two of them crawled forward in silence, passing countless sword cultivators brutally slain along the path.

 

Jiang Mianhao no longer paused to mourn the dead. Gripping a sword that did not belong to her, she pressed onward, each step measured and determined.

 

As they passed the third pile of corpses, a faint, desperate cry for help pierced the eerie stillness.

 

In that instant, a bolt of lightning struck the mountaintop, illuminating a face lifted from the heap of bodies—eyes wide, terrified, and begging for salvation.

 

Jiang Mianhao and Ling Lan continued without stopping, yet they couldn’t bring themselves to ignore the plea.

They turned their heads, and by the flash of lightning, caught a clear glimpse of the one crying for help.

 

Ling Lan froze. Her pupils dilated slightly as recognition flickered across her face.

 

The woman’s features were almost indistinguishable beneath the layers of blood and grime but nestled in her tangled hair was a delicate hairpin shaped like a budding lily of the valley.

 

Their eyes met for an instant. The lily of the valley hairpin glimmered faintly, its soft light forcing Ling Lan to stop in her tracks.

 

Jiang Mianhao’s breath hitched as realization dawned. “Lanlan, isn’t that Miss Fu, the one who bandaged your wounds in front of the temple?”

 

“Yes!” Ling Lan’s voice trembled. Though the woman’s face was ruined beyond recognition, the hairpin left no doubt.

 

It was a blossom from Ling Lan’s true form. Now, that small branch was calling back to its origin.

 

Without hesitation, Jiang Mianhao urged, “Then go! Check on her quickly! A young girl lying here among the dead must be terrified.”

 

“But, Lu Jiu.” Ling Lan snapped back to herself, eyes torn between worry and duty. “You’re not planning to leave me here, are you?”

No sooner had she spoken than the figure beside her had already taken several determined steps forward.

 

Jiang Mianhao waved once, her voice steady. “Let’s meet at the foot of the mountain! I’m going up to find Lu Jiu, take care of Miss Fu.”

 

For someone usually so gentle and soft-spoken, her tone was unusually resolute and unwavering.

 

Without waiting for a response, Jiang Mianhao pressed on, her form disappearing into the darkness as she continued her ascent.

 

The night had fallen completely, swallowing her small figure in shadow.

 

Ling Lan’s heart leapt. Without hesitation, she lifted her foot to give chase.

 

But at that moment, the lily of the valley hairpin flew straight toward her. Instinctively, Ling Lan raised her hand to block it.

 

The hairpin didn’t strike her. It landed gracefully at her feet.

 

No sooner had it touched the ground than a bright yellow sword unsheathed itself, its sharp blade slicing through the darkness with blinding brilliance.

 

It was like a sudden burst of sunlight piercing the night.

Fu Wanyin, who had been crawling among the corpses and crying for help, had now vanished into thin air.

 

Unaware of the commotion behind her, Jiang Mianhao lowered her head and mustered the last of her strength, crawling forward step by agonizing step.

 

Finally, summoning every ounce of energy she had left, she reached the mountain peak.

 

The moment she arrived, a flock of black soaring birds swept down, encircling her with terrifying precision.

 

Facing these creatures, her natural enemies, the very birds that had once gravely injured her. Jiang Mianhao drew in a deep breath, tightened her grip on the sword in her hand, and roared, “Step aside!”

 

Climbing to the summit had nearly drained her completely. She leaned on the sharp blade to steady herself, forcing her trembling legs to remain upright.

 

The young girl stood firm, unflinching, unaware that the path she had scaled was a sheer cliff, hundreds of feet above the mountain’s base.

 

The howling wind whipped past her ears, tossing her hair and robes as though trying to deter her.

 

The bird-men guarding the mountaintop faltered for just a moment at her furious shout. But as soon as they recognized her, their expressions twisted into mocking sneers.

The girl before them was thin and small, and the sword in her hand was thicker than her arm. They all laughed derisively at her appearance.

 

Some even slithered provocatively toward her feet like snakes, tossing stones behind her with mocking intent.

 

“A mere grass spirit dares to shout at me?” sneered the leader of the soaring birds, flapping his massive wings. “Little grass spirit, what are you doing here?”

 

Giant wings stirred up dust and gravel, the flying grit momentarily blinding her eyes.

 

“I must go up the mountain!” Jiang Mianhao declared, her voice steady despite the chaos. Gripping her sword and clenching her teeth, she added, “To save my beloved.”

 

The bird-like creature found her words laughable. It flapped its wings violently and dove straight toward her, intent on forcing the small figure to retreat and tumble off the cliff.

 

Yet, unexpectedly, as the soaring bird swooped down, the young woman unsheathed her sword.

 

A flash of silver light cut through the gloom. The sharp blade gleamed coldly, tracing a perfect arc in the air.

 

Holding her sword firmly, Jiang Mianhao charged straight at the soaring bird, her eyes blazing with unwavering resolve.

As the blade thrust toward the creature, she closed her eyes.

 

Before her was no longer the pitch-black night, but the dawn just before daybreak.

 

The image of a white-clad figure wielding a sword grew vivid in her mind.

 

The thousand-foot cliff behind her turned into level ground. Lu Jiu now stood behind her. One hand holding the Haomian Sword, the other gripping her own. Their forms seemed to merge into one.

 

The howling wind roared in her ears, yet the dark clouds ahead were split apart by the sharp blade.

 

Following the sword dance of the white-clad figure from her memory, Jiang Mianhao executed each move and stance, one by one.