Chapter Seventeen: Demonic Chaos

The young man in white, carrying a sword on his back, did not answer Sirius’s question. Instead, he slowly drew the sword he had been carrying, drifting forward like a pristine snowflake swirling in the air. In a single graceful motion, he crossed over ten meters to stand near Sirius, his sword leveled at his foe.

The cold wind, mingled with swirling snow, lashed against the youth, causing his white robes to flutter noisily. Yet he himself stood as if carved from ancient ice, radiating a chill that seemed to freeze the very air. His handsome face remained expressionless, his grip on the sword unwavering.

“You actually left a survivor? And it seems you’re quite powerful,” Sirius remarked, his gaze fixed on the youth who was colder than the winter wind. Noticing the faint stains of blood on the young man’s white robes, Sirius continued, “So you escaped the massacre. In the end, Sword Sect left behind one.”

For the first time, the icy mask on the youth’s face wavered, but the aura of chill around him only grew more intense. The wind and snow were driven outward by the cold emanating from his body. He spoke at last: “What happened that night?”

Sirius let out a grim, sinister chuckle. “You managed to survive and still don’t know what happened?”

The youth uttered but a single word, pushing aside the drifting snow, and advanced toward Sirius with sword in hand.

With a roar, Sirius suddenly opened his jaws and spat a demonic projectile straight at the youth. The young man shifted, feet pressing lightly on the snow, gliding effortlessly to the side to dodge the attack. By the time he looked back, Sirius was already dashing into the distance.

“Haha! My king has already led our kind into the human world. Your doomsday has begun. Perhaps next time we meet, I’ll finish you off for good. I’ll remember this grudge…” Despite his injuries, Sirius transformed into his wolf form and sped away, leaving a white streak across the snow towards the sheer cliffs at the summit of Misty Mountain. His voice echoed in the wind.

“That brat who ambushed me—I hope you don’t die too soon. Next time, I’ll tear you apart with my own claws!” Sirius leapt off the cliff, disappearing amid a cascade of snow, his body stretched out like a bat as he spiraled downward.

With a thunderous crash, the giant bear finally collapsed.

The old man reached into the bear’s carcass and extracted a demon core the size of a fist. This core glowed a vivid, blood-red, quite unlike the icy white demon core taken from the fox—a warmth radiated from it, pulsing with powerful vitality.

After the bear’s demon core was gouged out, it writhed a few times on the ground before falling still. Clearly, the core was the source of its strength.

The old man cupped the hot, crimson demon core in one hand and approached Zhou Yu, who lay wounded and bloodied on the ground. He glanced at Zhou Yu, then lifted his eyes to regard the white-robed youth who had appeared so suddenly.

Sensing the old man’s gaze, the white-robed youth withdrew his attention from the distant cliff, looked down at Zhou Yu, and said, “I don’t need this demon core.”

The old man nodded, stooped over, and ground the core into fragments before feeding it to Zhou Yu. He knew this white-robed youth was extraordinary—if he had any intention of seizing the core, it would be very troublesome indeed.

Feeling the cold radiating from the youth, the old man frowned and asked, “Who are you?”

“Liu Yueming,” the white-robed youth replied, gazing at the snow—unaware that he himself was colder than the winter.

“Liu? Are you a direct disciple of Sword Sect?” The old man was shocked by the youth’s snowy attire and his surname.

“I was, once.” The chill around Liu Yueming intensified, then relented. He seemed to explain: “Sword Sect is gone.”

The blood-red demon core was almost entirely consumed by Zhou Yu. Once it entered his stomach, it transformed into a raging fire, flooding his frozen body with warmth. Even in his sleep, Zhou Yu felt as if flames were surging within him, sending waves of heat throughout his limbs. His entire being was suffused with a wonderful, comfortable warmth.

He could hear voices conversing nearby. Slowly, Zhou Yu opened his eyes to see a chunk of ice—and a youth as cold as ice itself.

“You’re awake so soon? You must be quite resilient, with remarkable absorption ability.” The old man watched Zhou Yu wake, then swept his hand over Zhou Yu’s body, guiding the energy of the bear’s demon core through his meridians. He looked up at Liu Yueming and asked, “How could Sword Sect be destroyed?”

Liu Yueming looked at the newly awakened youth. For some reason, he felt a strange sense of familiarity deep within. “Sword Sect was annihilated. I’m the only one left.”

“What?” The old man was so shocked he forgot to channel the demon core’s energy. He stared wide-eyed at Liu Yueming, searching his expression for any sign of deceit. His first instinct was that this was a lie, his second that it was a joke. But as he gazed into Liu Yueming’s face, he suddenly believed him.

The uncontrolled demon energy suddenly rampaged within Zhou Yu’s body. He was wracked with pain but gritted his teeth without a sound, his body trembling from the agony.

Suddenly, Zhou Yu sat up and coughed up a mouthful of foul blood.

The metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth, followed by nausea and another mouthful of blackened clots. After expelling the blood, Zhou Yu felt much better, and the rampaging demon energy within him gradually calmed.

The old man snapped back to his senses and quickly checked Zhou Yu’s body. His face twisted in amazement as he exclaimed, “How extraordinary! That demon core was brimming with vitality. I thought I’d have to guide the energy for three days and nights before you could absorb it all. Yet now, the energy has vanished without a trace. Truly strange. Do you feel anything unusual?”

Zhou Yu breathed deeply, letting the cold air fill his lungs. “I feel much better. My chest isn’t so tight, and I don’t feel as weak.”

The old man probed up and down Zhou Yu’s body, especially his chest, muttering in wonder. “Such rapid recovery! I thought you’d be crippled, or at least need months to heal. Yet your broken ribs have already set themselves. Are you even human?”

Zhou Yu pushed away the old man’s hand, coughed awkwardly, and said, “Master, please stop. I’m ticklish.”

The old man paused, only then realizing how his actions might have appeared. He coughed too, casting a glance at Liu Yueming, who remained cold and indifferent. Relieved that there was no misunderstanding, the old man thought that, at his age, being mistaken for having such proclivities would be a fate worse than death.

“Who are you people?” Liu Yueming asked.

“We…” The old man hesitated, unsure where to begin. Then, with righteous conviction, he declared, “We hunt demons!”

“You’re demon hunters?” Liu Yueming asked.

Demon hunters were typically powerful individuals. By slaying demons, they not only gained demon cores for themselves but also protected the human realm, earning great respect among mankind. However, when it came to demon kings or demon generals, those were the stuff of nightmares for hunters. Not all hunters were top experts; many were novices seeking demon cores to advance their cultivation, and most of those only managed to kill minor demon soldiers.

“Have you lost your minds?” Liu Yueming frowned, gesturing at the lifeless nine-headed demon wolf in the snow. “Those are demon soldiers, but that one is a demon general!” His finger shifted toward the fallen bear.

“So what if it’s a demon general? Didn’t I kill it?” the old man replied, full of bravado.

“That one who got away is Sirius, one of the Five Great Demon Kings. Do you really think you stand a chance against him?” Liu Yueming continued.

“Well… that was an unexpected complication,” the old man admitted, recalling Sirius with a shiver.

“We were just lucky. He must have been in a hurry, or we’d all be dead,” Liu Yueming said, glancing toward the cliff.

“But he was injured. Doesn’t that give us some hope?” Zhou Yu asked, unable to rise. Though his ribs had mended, they had not fully healed. He reclined, asking his question.

Liu Yueming looked at him coldly, his gaze as indifferent as ever. “If you hadn’t ambushed him, how could he have failed to dodge that strike? If he hadn’t been wounded in the arm after your ambush, how could he have spat out only an incomplete demon projectile? If that projectile had been fully formed, how could I have frozen it?”

Only then did Zhou Yu realize just how perilous the situation had been. “So it really was that dangerous. I thought we could take on a demon king.”

“Demon kings are not impossible to defeat, but the Five Great Demon Kings are the mightiest of their race. Even an injured Sirius could easily have killed us.”

“Then why did he leave?” Zhou Yu asked.

“Because he was wounded and had urgent matters to attend to. He didn’t want further complications.” Liu Yueming caught a snowflake in his hand, feeling it melt, and continued, “These past days, the demon clouds over Misty Mountain have surely been Sirius directing his kind’s invasion of the human world. If I’m right, the demon army has already crossed the range.”

Below Misty Mountain, a mass of black demon clouds surged. Countless demon beasts were breaking through the western stronghold that Sword Sect once guarded.

Meanwhile, deep within demon territory, a man carrying an iron box abruptly halted, gazing up at the distant outline of a towering mountain range. He murmured, “So you’re there. I can feel your resolve.”

He turned to look at a young man collapsed on the ground. “If he’s there, then who are you?”

The young man’s face was pale, his shirt soiled, a watch on his wrist glowing with an eerie green light. Crawling backwards, he pleaded in a tearful voice, “Please, don’t kill me! This watch won’t come off and claims I’m the reincarnation of Hades, but I’m not—I swear I’m not! Please… don’t kill me…”

“I know you’re not. Hades never retreats.” The man with the iron box sneered, then shot his fist forward.