Chapter 48
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Brushfire, Blood, and Blade - Severance 2
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Fire. No tree exists that doesn't burn. No tree is born to endure the flames.
Even ironwood, said to be harder than steel, or black bamboo grown deep in Yunnan—it's all the same. No matter how grand the mansion, it has no way to withstand the inferno.
Flames spread through hall after hall.
The blaze that devoured Huangzheng Tower now swallowed the estates that had stood for decades, one by one. Collapsing pillars shattered with gruesome creaks.
Ashes and smoke filled the air. The acrid haze made it hard to keep one's eyes open. All that could be felt was the scorching heat.
And the screams.
"Aaagh!"
"Kwaaak!"
They seemed to come from afar at first, but now they were right beside him. One warrior dragged himself across the floor, leaving a trail of sticky blood. The metallic stench of blood vibrated through the air.
If it had been just the fire, the chaos wouldn't have been this bad. The clan was old, and they'd dealt with fires before. But no one dared try to bring order to the madness.
The louder your voice, the quicker you died. The stronger your martial arts, the faster you fell.
Even those who stayed hidden... yes, even they met gruesome ends.
The Gale Sword, concealed in the gap between pillars, had his limbs torn apart. The Rock-Piercing Spear, silently scaling the wall, was pierced from behind.
The pinnacle experts left in the Huangfu Clan weren't even given time to band together and fight back. They turned into corpses one by one.
What the Iron Blood Fist King witnessed, after racing nonstop from the slums, was that hellish scene.
"...!"
Even a martial artist who had crossed dozens of death lines was powerless.
When everything you'd built over a lifetime goes up in flames, what stratagem could you devise? What thoughts could you muster? A dazed gaze and trembling hands—that was all.
While the clan head was lost in shock, it was the young swordsmen who sprang into action.
Amid the massive blaze torching the halls, the thick smoke, and the heart of death itself. It took less than ten seconds for the Zhuge Clan's Little Divine Dragon to make the best call.
"This is... horrific..."
"We need to quell the chaos first! Avoid combat as much as possible!"
Fluttering rapidly through his agile mind was a list of the key figures still in the Huangfu Clan. The top priority to save was the clan's eldest grandson, now just seven years old.
The last blood kin of the deceased young master.
He knew the locations of all the important people by heart. The grandson's quarters were surely in the Earth-Building Hall.
"Brother Shaoying, head to the Earth-Building Hall! I'll gather people with Choxue!"
The Earth-Building Hall was the most dangerous spot right now. All three here were pinnacle experts, but sending Peng Shaoying—at least the greatest of the Four Dragons—was the safest choice.
The Little Divine Dragon kept piecing together plans. The Divine Cult's forces here numbered just two: the Saintess and the Protector. Peng Shaoying wouldn't fall to the Protector, at least.
And the Saintess...
Thud.
"Saintess!"
The Iron Blood Fist King unleashed his aura in surging rage, producing a faint explosive sound. On the verge of losing his reason, his chest filled with nothing but endless fury toward that thing called the Saintess.
The senses of one of the world's Five Great Fist Masters pinpointed the enemy's location clearly.
"I'll grind that bitch's organs into fertilizer!"
The giant of Mount Blaze charged ahead without a backward glance. A decision he could make because he trusted the swordsmen to handle the situation in his stead.
Even in wrath that made his blood boil in reverse, grasping the picture the Little Divine Dragon had drawn—this was truly the mark of a clan head.
He cut down people. Pierced flesh.
Squelch. The sword sank in until it hit the spine and stopped.
At some point, Bai Hui had become able to feel it. Not just exceptional senses—he was familiar with it from experience.
The opponent, mouth agape in agonized groans. The blade embedded in his lungs—Bai Hui knew exactly how far it had gone inside, not off by a single inch.
With each life he took, a strange satisfaction flickered. A torrent of complex emotions surged.
For instance.
"..."
"Spare me! Please, just let me live, hero!"
A warrior knelt on the ground, rubbing his hands together pleadingly. Back in his days in Jiangming, in the Great Huangfu Clan, he'd heard it time and again. Only Guangdong's finest martial talents could cross that threshold.
Someone who'd enlisted young at a renowned dojo, surpassed countless peers to rise, and made a name as a ronin, enough to shake the rivers and lakes alone.
This man must have lived such a life.
Yet now, he groveled before Bai Hui, begging with clasped hands. Tears streaming as he bowed his head.
"If you spare me just once, I'll never forget this grace my whole life!"
"..."
Not knowing what to say, Bai Hui simply aimed his sword.
Were the warriors he'd seen in Jiangming like this? Was the pinnacle of those who beat an old man for speaking ill of their lord really just this?
They bandied talk of righteousness, of the world, toying with lives—yet bowed their heads at the first real crisis.
Disappointment flashed in Bai Hui's eyes. The Huangfu Clan warrior sensed it instinctively. He bowed deeper, smashing his forehead into the ground.
Blood flowed from his split brow.
"You all... bow so easily to the strong..."
"Pardon?"
"So simply."
Shing. Thud.
The headless corpse tumbled away. The whispers grew thicker. Kill them. Kill them all.
Bai Hui pressed his forehead. His whole body itched faintly. Unpleasant.
The world looked so red. He couldn't even tell where he was anymore.
Instinctively spreading his qi sense, he sought traces of inner energy and slashed them down.
Step by step, Bai Hui approached his next victim. In the clan's enveloping chaos, a place desperately guarded by the few warriors still clinging to reason.
A hall marked "Earth-Building."
"He's coming! Hide the young master!"
"Urgh."
They hadn't managed to evacuate the Huangfu Clan's eldest grandson. The front reception hall had the Saintess ripping people apart, and the rear great hall had a sword-wielding demon slaughtering humans.
No one dared grab the boy's hand and lead him out. This was the result.
"Young master, listen carefully! Block your ears and eyes here! No matter what, do not open your eyes!"
A room the fire hadn't yet reached.
One warrior placed a hand on the bedpost and spoke urgently. He planned to hide the young master in the concealed space beneath the bedroom floor.
The seven-year-old boy nodded with terrified eyes.
"Remember! Stay still as a dead mouse—"
"Uwaaak!"
"Please survive!"
Creeeak, slam. The lid shut in haste. Darkness fell over Huangfu Wujin's eyes. The boy hugged his knees in the pitch black and squeezed his eyes shut.
He couldn't stop trembling from fear. The sudden fire, the endless screams from outside. Peering through the broken window, everyone who'd always treated him kindly was... all corpses.
And now, the people who'd always been with him were falling one by one. Plugging his ears did no good.
"Aaak!"
"Hngh..."
The boy stifled sobs, mouth covered.
The voice just now was Abao's, who'd taught him footwork. The groan now was from Zhang Dang, the fist art master.
Presences vanished one by one. Soon, only one set of footsteps remained in the hall.
Step.
Bai Hui staggered. The stench of blood was overpoweringly fishy. Clearly, the five warriors he'd just killed had been desperately guarding this room.
His sharp senses wavered. The heat from the flames, the wavering hot air—it was dizzying.
A faint trace of inner energy, almost caught, then gone.
Bai Hui sheathed his sword in its scabbard. The blood on the blade was sticky.
"Someone's... inside?"
The boy shook his head frantically from within. He prayed desperately.
Begging heaven and earth for someone to save him.
That was when.
"You're a demon yourself!"
Clang!
Peng Shaoying burst through the burning debris. His hastily swung saber met the patched sword.
A faint notch scarred Bai Hui's scabbard. Yet his eyes held no emotion, just chilling emptiness.
Clang clang! In one breath, five clashes. The Five Tigers Gate-Severing Saber, a peerless saber art of the world—fierce as a tiger charging down a mountain, swift as wind across the plains.
But the relentless forms never reached Bai Hui's vitals.
The gleaming saber and the dull-edged sword snarled at each other. Scraaape!
"You're the Divine Cult's Protector!"
"You..."
"Peng Shaoying of the Hebei Peng Clan! I'll slay you to prove justice lives in this land!"
"You've trained in martial arts."
No further talk. Peng Shaoying couldn't process Bai Hui's words for a moment.
Trained in martial arts? What did that matter?
The enemy's actions answered the unasked question. A thrust faster than sound—cold sweat trickled down Peng Shaoying's back as he barely parried.
"If you've trained in martial arts, you die. That's it."
"You're truly mad... Is the Divine Cult really a den of devils?"
He glanced around the battlefield. Sparks flew amid the smoldering ruins. The scattered corpses seemed to have guarded something desperately.
And nowhere among those traces was the boy's body. Relief was fleeting.
Peng Shaoying gripped his hilt tighter. From afar, the Iron Blood Fist King's roar boomed.
One of the world's Five Great Fist Masters fought alongside them.
They would surely escape this hell.