Chapter Eighteen: Shadows of Doubt

Night had already fallen. Zhou Yu lay sprawled atop a pelt of demon wolf. Although the demon core of the snow fox he'd consumed rendered him impervious to the cold, lying on a wolfskin was still far preferable to lying on bare snow.

He tried to lift his right arm, but the motion tugged at the muscles in his chest, sending a lightning bolt of pain tearing through him. Now that some of his strength had returned, the pain was only more pronounced. He let his right hand fall, sniffing the air as the aroma of roasting meat wafted over him.

Hunger surged within him like a tide. The vicious battle had drained Zhou Yu of almost all his strength. That greatsword—it was like a bloodthirsty demon, and its power after being sated was equally demonic. The greatsword stood planted in the snow three yards away, its rust now gone, its edge gleaming coldly under the pale moonlight.

Beside the sword, a bonfire crackled. With no wood to be found, the old man had sliced thick slabs of fat from the giant bear, then somehow ignited the fat with a secret technique to fuel the flames.

A huge bear paw roasted over the fire. The old man used his inner energy to guide the flames, turning the meat with precise control. The outer layer was charred, while the thick fat beneath began to sizzle and render, droplets falling onto the fire with a loud hiss.

Zhou Yu swallowed, unable to help himself. “The outside must be done—let’s eat. The inside will never cook through.”

The old man, just as famished, reached for the greatsword to carve the meat at Zhou Yu’s suggestion.

But Liu Yueming drew the sword from her back first. With a single stroke, she sliced off a thick chunk of meat, then two more swift cuts divided it into three pieces. Balancing the sword flat, she slapped two pieces toward the old man and Zhou Yu, then flicked the final piece to herself with the sword tip.

The old man caught his share, nodded at Liu Yueming, and said, “Your swordsmanship has entered the realm of the Way.”

For five years, Liu Yueming had practiced the Frost-Defying Sword Technique without progress, unable to fully integrate the icy energy left within her by her mother. But in terms of swordplay, she had reached a remarkable height. On the night the Sword Sect was destroyed, she took a decisive step, finally merging the cold energy within her and comprehending the true essence of the Frost-Defying Sword Technique.

After Liu Wujian departed, Uncle Fu bought her precious time. Swallowing her grief, she escaped the Sword Sect and fled toward Misty Mountain. She was not merely fleeing; she was surviving.

Surviving, so that one day, she could kill that man.

“I still have a long way to go.” Liu Yueming recalled how her sword had been utterly disregarded by Liu Wujian, who had defeated her with the merest flick of a hand.

The old man tore into the bear paw, his mouth greasy with fat. “If someone who can single-handedly slay fifty elite Xuan soldiers is ‘lacking’, then most cultivators in this world ought to give up training. Besides, you’re still so young.”

Liu Yueming shook her head, swallowing her bite. “If I hadn’t merged with the cold energy, I’d never have managed to kill those fifty Xuan soldiers who hunted me. And I only picked off the stragglers, wearing them down one by one.”

Liu Yueming gazed westward. In recent days, she had climbed toward the summit of Misty Mountain, with Xuan soldiers always in pursuit. They had killed Uncle Fu and were almost certainly involved in the massacre of the Sword Sect. So, on the third day of her flight, Liu Yueming began to fight back. Familiar with the terrain from years of training, she ambushed and slew the isolated Xuan soldiers one by one. In the end, she fought the surviving dozen in a pitched battle, killing them all atop the mountain’s western ridge.

She had not hidden the fate of the Sword Sect or the fifty Xuan soldiers. By now, the whole world probably knew. Her heart was set only on vengeance against the murderers—and besides those soldiers, there seemed to be only one: her own father, Liu Wujian.

The words of the departing Sirius had only deepened her confusion. The entire affair was tangled and chaotic; she hoped someone could tell her the truth. Thus, she recounted everything.

Zhou Yu gnawed on the bear paw, swallowing with difficulty. Each chunk of meat burned his chest as it slid down, the pain so sharp he was forced to stop despite his hunger.

“From what you say, that night’s events must be tied to the great invasion of the demon clans. Perhaps it’s one of their plots,” Zhou Yu offered, though he hardly believed it himself. Even if it was the demons’ scheme, had Liu Wujian gone mad? As powerful as he was, he hadn’t stopped the carnage, but instead had killed his own father. And those fifty Xuan soldiers belonged to a human faction, which meant human involvement as well.

Who benefited most from the Sword Sect’s destruction? Clearly, the demons. But demons and humans were mortal enemies—could there really be human traitors? Zhou Yu frowned at the thought. Though he felt little attachment to this world, if he wanted to survive, he had to blend in with its people. And traitors—those were always the most unforgivable.

So Zhou Yu found himself pondering matters that could alter the course of this world.

After a long silence, he said, “This is no simple matter. The demon clans are surely involved, and the true culprit is often the one who stands to gain the most.”

Liu Yueming said nothing. The sword on her back quivered. Whoever the killer was, she would hunt them down, one by one.

“If the demons have already invaded, there’s little point in practicing swordplay up here in the snowy mountains. War between demons and humans is inevitable. Bai Gu Ku will certainly make his move, and I must go.” For once, the old man didn’t drink with his meat.

“Where are we going?” Zhou Yu asked.

“The Spirit Realm.”

“But aren’t the demons invading from the west? Why are we heading east, to the Spirit Realm?”

“Because only someone from the Spirit Realm can defeat Bai Gu Ku,” the old man said, taking a swig from his flask and gazing at the falling snow. “We need to see the situation for ourselves; only there can you get the clearest information. Besides, it’s time for you to go to the Spirit Realm.” He turned to Zhou Yu, then to Liu Yueming. “You climbed the mountain from the west—are you heading for the Spirit Realm as well?”

Liu Yueming nodded. Only someone from the Spirit Realm could defeat Bai Gu Ku. And if there was anyone in the world who could defeat Liu Wujian, it would also have to be someone from the Spirit Realm. So after climbing the mountain, she continued eastward.

The three decided to travel together to the Spirit Realm. After finishing the bear meat, they rested by the fire.

Even lying still, Zhou Yu’s chest ached dully. He gently rubbed the watch on his wrist. “Why did you save me?” he murmured.

The watch remained silent. Ever since it had released a surge of electricity to shock Sirius, his “Baidu” had fallen into a deep silence.

“Are you dead? Or just out of power? Aren’t you supposed to be solar-powered?” Zhou Yu asked, one question after another.

Still nothing.

“You saved me once; you can’t just die now,” he said in his heart.

Snow kept falling, the cold wind blowing, but the stars above shone ever bright against the dark sky.

As the starlight poured down, it gathered little by little into the watch. Around midnight, the watch finally stirred.

A faint glow shone from the watch, projecting a hazy silhouette. The light flickered, as if darkness might snuff it out at any moment.

“You’re still alive?” The mechanical voice echoed in Zhou Yu’s mind.

He opened his eyes, staring at the figure for a long time. “You’re not Baidu. Who are you?”

The figure vanished at once, leaving behind only a sigh.

As Zhou Yu listened to the sigh, it seemed, just for a moment, as if it really was Baidu’s voice.