Chapter 66
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: Change - 2
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A wild mountain—an abandoned peak near Guando, with no fields or villages in sight.
The path was treacherous, nothing but beast trails winding through.
They'd taken a cultist who hunted in these parts as their guide. When the Girl pointed the way, he'd tell her which path to take.
But halfway up, she sent him back. She no longer needed him.
"Beast corpses... like this..."
"I'll go on alone from here."
"D-Divine Maiden, but the mountain is d-dangerous up ahead. Who knows what might be there..."
He worshiped the Divine Maiden, yet couldn't shake his worry. The world he knew wasn't the martial realm to begin with.
The landscape unfolding amid the rugged terrain instinctively stirred fear. Even after a decade-plus as a hunter, he'd never seen carnage like this.
Chunks of wild bird flesh hung from trees everywhere. Livestock heads severed, eyes still wide open. The air reeked of blood, scattered in all directions.
Fresh red footprints stamped the grass, leading somewhere like a guide.
"It's fine. Head back."
The cultist couldn't refuse the Girl's words. Once the hunter descended, the Girl resumed her steps.
The traces grew clearer.
Faint bloodstains darkened, pools of blood gathered here and there. Fragments of the dead clung stickily to tree bark.
And finally.
Whoosh—
Wind blew from deep in the mountain. Though still morning, the surroundings plunged into sudden gloom.
A wild surge of illusion and pressure. The Girl remembered such omens.
The realm the Huangfu Clan head had ascended to—the cult's Dharma Protector had already surpassed even the Fist King.
The rampant aura flared. Jagged tree shadows swelled irregularly.
"Hrrrrgh..."
A sudden breath rasped out—not human speech, but a beast's growl.
At that moment, the Girl quietly raised her hand.
And from the darkness, a bloodied blade flew.
The Sword Demon wielded iaijutsu. His strikes from blind angles were lethal.
Once from his rare left-hand draw. Twice from the reverse grip as he lunged. Countless righteous sect heroes had met their end to those unpredictable swift blades.
Even peak masters failed to block them. Death came without warning.
And now, with the Thousand Kills Star's senses, even that fastest thrust was beyond her eyes to track.
Screeech!
The air's tearing wail was no harbinger—merely an after-record. Explosive booms echoed in the blade's wake.
In the dark, silver gleams flashed dozens of times in an instant, pure killing intent pouring forth.
"------!"
The ragged breaths from the thicket held no shred of reason. The Girl saw the Sword Demon's qi and blood raging every which way.
From head to back, back to chest. The torrent past his dantian accelerated itself. His bloodshot eyes brimmed with hate.
Amid the surging malice, the Girl lightly raised her hand.
A technique stolen from the Huangfu Clan head, the Fist King—not thick orthodox qi, but savage demonic arts gathered in her palm.
A hand infused with intricate principles honed over countless years met the blade. Both brimmed with ferocity and destruction.
Kaaaaang!
A thunderous clash.
The forest shuddered. Leaves rustled wildly. The darkness the Sword Demon summoned stretched like rampaging wild dogs in every direction.
Its size shifted ceaselessly, almost like writhing in agony. Yet was this place home to only one at the pinnacle of demonic arts?
From the darkness rose something denser. It flowed.
Black wildfire illusions bloomed over the grass, mountains, and slopes, overlaying the shadows. The Girl stepped forward. Clang!
The blade aiming for her throat halted. Her flowing inner force struck the sword from her slender fingers—ding!—a bizarre ring echoed. Yet it held.
The notched, battered sword, brimming with qi, glared at the Girl. Amid the pitch black, only the blade stood out starkly.
If a Nine Sects elder had seen it, they'd have cried divine sword unity in shock.
But this wasn't the ultimate void reached by Dao-steppers—it was born from innate senses merging in harmony.
"Blood..."
A voice drifted from beyond the blade. The Sword Demon's.
"I need to get stronger. More. Not enough."
Jagged darkness writhed. With each syllable he murmured, it shook his body.
"Raaaaagh—!"
A madman at the edge of insanity, seeing only murder, howled in torment. The Girl felt her own qi and blood stir sharply at the cry.
The pain coursing through her meridians intensified. Pressure on her heart grew fiercer.
Pain and grudge resonated.
The world dyed red. Amid fleeting crimson trails, the Sword Demon moved.
Swish, kagang! Battered sword and hand crossed chaotically. Scratches bloomed one by one on the Girl's arms.
The first blood drop fell, and the Sword Demon accelerated further.
"How agonizing."
The Girl said.
Eyes that saw emotions told no lies. Bai Hui was suffering. Deeply, painfully.
His grudge-swallowed mind twitched. Clang! The Girl advanced another step. Her pale hand seized the blade outright.
The dulled edge bit into her like saw teeth. Red blood soaked the sword body.
But at the same instant, the gripped sword couldn't move. The Girl promptly seized the Sword Demon's arm with her other hand.
A qi art self-mastered, a heart method self-created. No one in the world could surpass the Girl in grasping qi flow and outcomes.
Borrowing the form of the Huangfu Clan's secret Earth Yellow Qi Art, her qi briefly suppressed the Sword Demon's hatred.
A hazy pupil surfaced in his bloodshot eyes. The clouded gaze fixed on the Girl.
"Where is this..."
"Are you okay?"
"Whispers everywhere. I must get stronger. All the martial folk... everyone..."
Her voice didn't reach.
In the hazy fog of his mind, a path had briefly appeared. But Bai Hui's consciousness sank once more.
Between ghost gate and death's border, a single pass. That day, it parted life from death.
Endless fierce battles, famed foes before him—Bai Hui had no choices left. Deeper. Trust the Thousand Kills Star's senses and plunge deeper.
By the time he regained his wits, it was too late. While ravaging Huashan Sect, he'd given his subconscious too much rein.
He'd barely entered the mountain before the bloodlust became uncontrollable. Bai Hui still hallucinated.
The World Dragon, Huangbo Garyun, everyone he had to kill—blades thrust at him. Sinews twisted, convulsions wracked him.
"Kill. Must kill them all. Not one spared."
Bai Hui's eyes rolled back again. The Sword Demon's eyes blazed red, lips twisting grotesquely.
Thud—the drawn battered sword dripped blood profusely. The Girl beheld it. The grudge-stained sight felt strangely familiar.
The hatred etched in the Sword Demon's mind.
Burning fields, people dying under blades—all memories she held. The Sword Demon bore not just his own hatred.
Only then did she realize.
What the Girl passed through demonic arts wasn't mere inner power. The "heart" in heart method meant mind.
Its form varied by the creator's embedded principles—any who cultivated it confronted that origin.
It was grudge taking the shape of a heart method.
"You've pushed too hard."
The deeper it delved, the more it resembled the Girl. Flesh hardened, inner force grew viscous.
Each blaze of chest wildfire swelled the reverse-heaven qi driven by grudge, bloating his form.
That was the Sword Demon's true words.
"You didn't have to push so hard."
The blade flew again; the Girl didn't dodge. She seized the full-force slash with her wounded hand.
Blood trickled down. It hurt. But she could still go on.
Her hand slid along the blade, grasping the Sword Demon's pulse gate.
Unlike in the village, she drew the demonic arts gently, delicately. Amid the vast flow of grudge, the Sword Demon thrashed.
She ignored it.
Even as fine blade cuts scarred her pale skin everywhere, she didn't let go.
Bai Hui's grudge seeped in. The chest wildfire had already swollen to a precarious peak.
The Girl remembered.
She'd thought of nothing but paying it back. Wanted to return it to those with power.
And before she knew it.
An old man in the streets bowed his head to her in fear. Children watched their every move, lest they offend.
Now swordsmen pushed demonic arts to their limits for her sake.
What to do? Simple.
Grow stronger.
"When it's too much, lean on me."
So the burdened could come. So anyone in the world, when tormented and weary, could rely on the Girl.
Gods, Buddhas, immortals forsaken—vessels for the abandoned.
She had to be stronger than any.
Shhhh—the Sword Demon's demonic arts quieted. The destructive momentum ebbed. She'd forcibly drained his strength, suppressing it.
His bloodshot eyes cleared. Ragged breaths slowed. Clutching his sword tight, the Girl said,
"It's okay. Let's go back now."
Don't worry. I'll handle the Sword King somehow.