Chapter 109
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 109
Chapter Title: The Abandoned (4)
The Second was utterly dumbfounded.
'How could this happen!'
Something utterly impossible was unfolding right before his eyes.
His pursuer was keeping pace with speed no human could match. Before they had leaped from the ship, the enemy had been forty jang away in the water. Yet now, he was right on their tail.
He wasn't even visible to the eye. Only the Listener's ears could faintly pick up the slightest sounds.
"This bastard is..."
The Second saw through the enemy's intent.
He had no intention of killing the Cleaners. If he did, he would have struck long ago.
The bastard's goal was simply to tail them.
But could he tail them so brazenly like this?
The Second furrowed his brow.
Come to think of it, they had nowhere to go. They couldn't return to the Heavenly Annihilation Division with a tail on them, nor could they strike at the Vanguard, and wandering aimlessly through the Central Plains wasn't an option either.
They had to fight the bastard.
He was a ghost. Invisible to the eye, employing a shadowless technique. Without seeing something, how could you attack or defend? The bastard didn't show himself at all.
"Heh heh! We've been caught by a real filthy one."
First things first, the Second needed to figure out if they could even fight a ghost.
Could they handle the Shadowless Step? Could they find him? They had to lure him into plain sight somehow, but was there a surefire way?
The conclusion was 'no'.
There was no way to draw him out. To lure him, they'd need to know what he wanted, but they didn't even know what kind of bastard he was. Nothing they could do.
Then, could they return to the Heavenly Annihilation Division?
That too led to the same conclusion: 'impossible'.
They couldn't go back with a tail attached. Even if it meant dying while roaming the Central Plains, they couldn't return.
Every path was blocked.
The Second sat down and pulled out his writing set.
"Prepare the messenger pigeons."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than one of the Cleaners set down a large bundle.
"The pigeons are always ready."
The Cleaner mumbled something incomprehensible.
But while others might not understand, the Second did. Even with his tongue half severed, the Second clearly made out the words.
"How many?"
"Seven."
Seven... Even if someone nearby overheard, it would have sounded like nothing more than squeaks and grunts.
"Right..."
The Second began writing the letters.
One was written with ink on paper, the other six with water on paper.
From afar, they all looked the same.
The Second handed the seven letters to the Cleaner.
The Cleaner knew which was real. He'd stood right beside the Second, blocking others' view like a screen.
The Cleaner opened the bundle, revealing a cage with seven pigeons inside.
He tied a letter to each pigeon's leg one by one.
"Done."
"Send them."
The moment the order was given, the Cleaner flung open the cage. The pigeons shot into the sky as if they'd been waiting.
But... the pigeons flew in different directions.
Like they'd planned it, they scattered east, west, south, and north. Each had its destination, but no one knew the one the Second truly intended.
"Good."
No need for a report. The Second had seen it.
He stared endlessly at the departing pigeons, then murmured softly.
"Alright, now we head to a Death Valley. What's the nearest one from here?"
The Cleaners prepared Death Valleys for the direst situations.
A place where they themselves would die—but could take the enemy with them.
They had selected such spots in every region.
One of the Cleaners answered immediately.
"About thirty ri ahead is Seven Beams Valley. You can enter, but you can't leave."
"Let's go!"
The Second took the lead, shooting forward.
All along the way, the Listener kept his thumb raised high.
The tail was still following. Not chasing the pigeons, but them.
The bastard couldn't pursue all seven directions either.
The Cleaner leading the way halted.
A sheer ravine loomed ahead. But it looked utterly ordinary. The path into it was a narrow trail, no different from any mountain path in a remote valley.
"Seven Beams Valley?"
"A Death Valley."
"We're going in!"
Shooo!
The Second shot forward first.
The Second was the second disciple of the Small Hive's Hive Lord—second in the order of those who caught his eye upon entry.
In the Small Hive, they called him One Light Flowing Hand.
Meaning hands as swift as a flash of lightning. Whether wielding a sword, saber, spear... always as fast as a streak of rain. He slashed in a single blinding instant.
Even such a One Light Flowing Hand, unable to handle the Shadowless Step, entered the Death Valley.
"First Beam."
A Cleaner following the Second said, eyeing a large boulder.
"Don't speak."
The Second controlled even sounds others couldn't comprehend.
"The one we're facing isn't human. The Shadowless Step... no human can awaken it. Think of it as fighting a ghost. Assume not just your words, but your very thoughts are being read."
"Understood."
"Once we cross all Seven Beams, give the signal."
"Understood."
The Cleaner replied with grim resolve.
Seven Beams meant seven pillars—seven mechanisms sealing the ravine.
To others' eyes, the mechanisms were invisible.
Even when the Heavenly Annihilation Division created Death Valleys, they'd been extremely cautious not to alert nearby residents.
One Light Flowing Hand dashed along the narrow path.
The Cleaners followed without hesitation.
The rules for the Stalkers applied to them too. They'd entrusted their families to the Division. Die in battle, and the families were safe. Betray the Division, and the families died first.
For the Cleaners, those families were nearly always blood kin.
It meant parents could live in peace, in-laws safe, and they themselves trained in fine arts or martial skills.
They had no direct ties to the Division.
Even among family, few knew they were under Heavenly Annihilation protection. They just thought their child, husband, or father was earning good money.
As the Stalkers had resolved to die, now it was the Cleaners' turn.
"Crossed it."
The trailing Cleaner said.
The Second glanced at the Listener.
The Listener raised his thumb, then spread four fingers.
The bastard... stubbornly maintaining forty jang.
So he was probably around the Fifth or Sixth Beam. When the mechanisms triggered, he'd be trapped in a dead end, unable to advance or retreat.
"Heh heh heh!"
The Second laughed.
Once Seven Beams activated, they couldn't escape either.
They'd reached a dead end. No further progress possible.
A dizzying cliff yawned beneath their feet.
A few squad members had descended here before. But midway, fierce winds swept them away. Or they clung to the face until frozen solid.
After such experiments, they'd built the Seven Beams.
"Trigger it."
"Yes!"
The Cleaner pressed his hand to the cliff and yanked a stone protrusion like a small twig.
Rumble! Roooar!
The entire ravine shook like an earthquake. Mountains, trees, boulders—all trembled.
The Second had to grab a tree to steady himself.
Roooar!
Thunderous roars enveloped the ravine. The ground quaked as if the earth itself twisted.
The quake, unique to Seven Beams Valley, lasted half a shichen.
Then... silence fell. The billowing dust began to settle. The thrashing trees stilled. Fortunately, no landslides.
Nothing had changed but the shaking ground.
The Cleaner said,
"All Seven Beams are active."
"Every one?"
"All activated perfectly. No one can escape now—not even a winged immortal."
The Second looked at the Listener.
"Hear him?"
The Listener raised his thumb. He was still there.
Then four fingers. Forty jang away. Trapped between the Fifth and Sixth Beams.
The Second plopped down and said,
"Heh heh heh! Now it's a battle of endurance. Who dies first, us or him. Rest as comfortably as you can. No more fighting from here on... focus solely on survival. Anyone who wants to go down below, go ahead. Try whatever you think might work. I permit all actions."
Meaning there was nothing that could save them.
In truth, the Second harbored no desire to survive. He lay back comfortably and soon fell asleep.
Truth be told, he hadn't slept soundly while being chased.
"What about him?"
The Listener shook his head vigorously.
The bastard wasn't moving. The Killing Formation would trigger if he did, and he seemed to know it—staying perfectly still.
"Heh heh! He'll move when he's hungry."
The Second pulled dried rations from his bosom and chewed.
They had plenty of food. Inside the Seven Beams, they'd prepared a month's worth for emergencies.
They could hold out at least a month.
By then, the pigeons would reach the Division, and more would come to assess the situation.
Then they could call for help. Assuming the intruder died within that time. If not, no help possible.
A month—one month, and he'd die. The Second was certain.
If he lasted beyond that, then they'd truly worry about survival. Water, food... the basics for human life.
But the bastard had to worry about that starting now.
"Tell me if he moves."
Nod! Nod!
The Listener perked up his ears.
A day passed, then two.
The Listener kept listening. The bastard didn't budge. Not a twitch.
No way to gauge his condition.
From their position, he was invisible. The Seven Beams blocked all sight. At least the Listener let them hear him.
Why wasn't the bastard moving?
He had to eat. Drink. Sleep. Excrete. He had to move eventually.
"He's really still there, right?"
The Listener nodded firmly, affirming yes.
"Hasn't moved once?"
Another nod.
Incomprehensible. Unbelievable. What manner of foe was he facing?
The Second picked up a pebble and hurled it beyond the Beams. In an instant—
Popopopopopop!
A boulder exploded whole. No—the boulder shattered, its fragments smashing into the Second's pebble.
The mechanisms were working fine.
'Why the hell isn't this bastard moving!'
The Second's mouth burned dry.
Never, not since taking up the sword, had such rage boiled within him.