Chapter 767 – A Single Sigh, One Thousand Li of Mount Han
Translated by: Hypersheep325
Edited by: Michyrr
The strum of the zither that Zhu Ye heard was naturally no illusion.
Although the sound of this zither came from the distant snowy mountains and was somewhat ethereal, it possessed an undeniably objective existence.
It was cold, clear, and fine, like hair or the edge of a blade, and thus sharp.
The cold winds blowing above the snowy mountains were cut apart, the darkness somewhat illuminated by the lights from Gaoyang Village was also cut apart, and the hardiest of snow lotuses growing in the ice were cut apart.
Several ruptures appeared on Zhu Ye's shoes, and then deepened until they struck his skin, his flesh, and his bones.
His feet were severed at the ankles. Carried along by their remaining inertia, they flew off into the mountains to parts unknown, leaving behind only two trails of blood in the darkness.
Zhu Ye was unable to cross those mountains and return to the human world. He fell onto the snow, gasping, his body continuously heaving up and down.
He fell very heavily, and having one's feet severed was an incredibly serious injury, but this was not the reason that he remained unmoving on the ground. It was because of despair.
The strum of the zither had crossed through ten-some li, so indiscernible and ethereal, yet it was able to easily sever his two feet.
The middle-aged scholar's identity was already obvious.
He buried his face in the snow and let out a muffled howl of pain. He was like a beast that was heavily injured but had no courage to strike back, only infinite remorse.
The sounds of fighting and screams could faintly be heard from the distant mountains, most likely Nanke casually reaping the lives of those humans on the mountain path.
The sounds of fighting suddenly vanished and the screams gradually faded until only silence remained.
Zhu Ye also fell quiet. With some difficulty, he turned over and gazed at the starry sky, incredibly close to the snowy peaks and thus particularly vivid, and sighed.
If he were not so greedy for the Cinnabar Pill, then given his identity and status, how could he possibly come to such a remote mountain range, and how could he possibly meet such a terrifying foe?
The word 'greed' had already caused the deaths of many, and how many more deaths would it cause in the future?
The ice was tread apart, still crinkling like the dry leaves of autumn being crushed by feet.
With this sound, Zhu Ye's body and mind relaxed, his eyes gradually brightening.
Nanke walked in front of him, her wings slowly moving behind her, bringing a chilly wind with them.
The Southern Cross Sword had already split and was now held in both her hands. Blood dripped from the swords, probably that of Ning Shiwei and those other people.
Zhu Ye calmly gazed at her, his hands gripping the most precious magical artifacts of the Emotion-Severing Sect in his sleeves.
Nanke struck with her sword.
Zhu Ye used his techniques.
Heavy and intense collisions rang out in the snowy peak awash with starlight.
Ten-some bulges appeared on the thick mountain slope as if some sort of monster wanted to bore its way out of the ground.
The mantle of snow flew up and madly danced in the air, covering the stars and casting the environment into a deep gloom, with the occasional flash of a sword glow illuminating a corner.
The ethereal sound of a zither could faintly be heard.
The world suddenly went still and the wind and snow gradually settled. Snow continued to slide down the mountains, rustling as it tumbled down.
At the highest peak, Nanke's sword was stabbed into Zhu Ye's chest.
Zhu Ye did not lower his head to look at his wound, nor did he look at her. Instead, he gazed towards a distant place.
The sword in his body was truly very cold, but that faint and almost unreal sound of the zither was even colder.
It was so cold that it reminded him of the story his uncle told him many years ago.
In that story, there was a Demon city in the snowy plains of the north, and this Demon city was forever enveloped in darkness.
It was just like the darkness gradually occupying his eyes.
……
……
Carrying Zhu Ye's corpse, Nanke returned to the mountain path.
The mountain path was covered in blood and frozen blood, but the several hundred corpses had been randomly thrown to the sides.
The middle-aged scholar was not plucking the zither, but eating something, and half a corpse was at his feet. From the official shoes and the style of the remaining armor, it was probably Ning Shiwei's.
Nanke offered Zhu Ye's corpse to the middle-aged scholar.
The scholar used both his hands to receive Zhu Ye, and then lowered his head and began to eat.
A sound akin to that of a cat eating leftovers, like gravel being thrust into mud, could be heard.
Blood constantly flowed from between his fingers.
In a short while, Zhu Ye's corpse had vanished. Not a single speck remained.
The wind blew against the scholar's clothes. One could see that his belly was a little swollen.
He closed his eyes, remaining quiet for a long time. He seemed to be appreciating the taste or pondering something.
"No wonder he's Zhu Luo's nephew. Although his cultivation is no good, it still carries a little moonlight. It can be said to be a minor supplement, much better than this general."
The scholar opened his eyes and looked at the rest of Ning Shiwei's corpse at his feet, an expression of disdain on his face.
He took a snow-white handkerchief from his sleeve and slowly wiped the blood from his lips, moving with great grace. He then walked forward into the darkness of the mountain path.
Nanke remained expressionless towards this gory and terrifying sight as she followed.
With the clear strum of a zither, they came to the snowy valley ten-some li away.
Those demon experts that had attempted to encircle Chen Changsheng were covered in sword slashes, their right hands severed, but they were not yet dead.
When they saw the scholar and Nanke, it was like they had seen a real ghost, their faces instantly becoming ghastly pale.
Nanke glanced at them and said, "Go die."
Several streams of green blood exploded as those towering figures crashed into the snow.
Upon hearing Nanke's words, those demon experts had instantly decided to commit suicide!
The courtyard and garden in the valley were already in ruins and the spring lake awash in mist had already become a dry crater. The wooden bridge had been snapped into several dozen pieces and lay like a snake that had been dead for several centuries. All traces of the pavilion had vanished and the beads of ice that filled the sky like catkins were somewhat vexing.
Chen Changsheng and Zhizhi stood on the other side of the lake. An Hua had rescued the general from the ruins, and the two now nervously stood guard in front of the stretcher.
Hai Di stood in the lake, with that weapon that looked like a broken monolith in his hands. It seemed like he was the center of this part of the world.
But in his eyes, whether it was this piece of the world or the vastness of the real world, the true center would forever be that middle-aged scholar who had just appeared.
Nanke ignored him, saying to Chen Changsheng, "I've helped you resolve many troubles. You owe me a favor."
Zhizhi didn't recognize her, but given the tone that she spoke to Chen Changsheng with, Zhizhi felt that they should get acquainted. Looking her over, she suddenly realized something and boundless wariness roiled about her eyes.
"You are that Peacock?"
Nanke's expression was somewhat dull as she asked, "You recognize me?"
"Chen Changsheng mentioned you before."
Zhizhi raised three fingers and placed them between her eyes. "He said that the space between your eyes is too broad, that it was clear that you are ill."
Nanke pondered these words, unsure as to whether she should be angry or not, and her gaze returned to Chen Changsheng.
Chen Changsheng did not look at her. His gaze had always been fixed on the middle-aged scholar.
Before this scholar had even appeared, he had already attracted all of Hai Di's attention, even filled Hai Di with limitless fear.
No more than five people in the entire world could make Hai Di feel such fear.
Coincidentally, he had met this middle-aged scholar once, so he knew who he was.
They had met back then in Mount Han.
Tonight, it was still in Mount Han.
Though the two places were separated by one thousand li.
It was truly a coincidence, truly a misfortune.
He sighed.