Chapter Sixty-Nine: Falling into the Demonic Path

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Falling from a great height, Li Pingyang’s short sword slipped from his grasp and landed nearby as he lay flat on a rock. His hands and feet began to grow cold, the chill biting into his bones, and his body was immobile.

His consciousness still lingered as he watched Naruoger rush over, dragging his body toward the cave, pulling him to safety.

In a panic, Naruoger pressed his clothes tightly to Li Pingyang’s chest, trying to staunch the blood that kept gushing out, clearly overwhelmed and helpless.

He called Li Pingyang’s name over and over, desperate to keep him awake, but Li Pingyang could only see his lips moving; he heard nothing, and his vision blurred.

Blood flowed from his wound, some of it running onto his short sword. As soon as the sword was tainted by Li Pingyang’s blood, dark mist began to rise from it, greedily absorbing the blood.

The blood on the ground was quickly devoured, and suddenly, the short sword floated upright, encircled by coils of black mist. Li Pingyang heard the wailing and shrieking of countless vengeful spirits.

Those sharp, cold, terrifying, and piercing cries swirled relentlessly around his ears, filling his heart with equal parts agitation and distress.

It was as if thousands upon thousands of wandering souls were venting their grievances, their mournful cries laced with bitter resentment.

Not only Li Pingyang but even Naruoger could hear it; the sound seemed to emanate from the sword itself, impossible to silence.

Even the giant centipede dared not approach upon hearing it. The wailing persisted, and soon blood began to trickle from the corners of Naruoger’s eyes and ears as he collapsed to his knees.

“Ahhhh!!!”

Clutching his head in agony, Naruoger was nearly driven mad by the sound, wishing he could destroy his ears just to escape it.

Within Li Pingyang’s dantian, the broken saber began to stir restlessly. All the collected resentment from the short sword was transmitted to the saber, fueling its awakening.

The few remaining iron chains that bound the broken saber snapped one by one, the seal upon its blade finally lifted. The black mist surrounding it transformed into domineering black flames.

A surge of even greater resentment erupted forth, shrouding Li Pingyang’s wound in darkness, as every cell in his body was corroded by the malice, pulling him into an endless abyss.

The resentment turned into countless shadows, swirling and weaving above his head. The wailing grew ever more mournful and shrill until Naruoger could bear it no longer and lost consciousness.

Suddenly, Li Pingyang’s eyes snapped open, their once-clear depths slowly consumed by darkness until the last glimmer of light faded. Black mist coiled around him, his eyes turning completely black.

He had given his body to the myriad ghosts, gaining rebirth as he quietly entered the demonic path. Carried by the black mist, he slowly rose to his feet.

Lifting his head, battered and bloodied, his hair wild and disheveled, whipped by the resentful wind, blood at the corner of his mouth, his gaze was cold as ice.

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He reached out and grasped the resentful sword, now seething with malice, his eyes filled with murderous intent and a wicked smile curling his lips.

At that moment, the wailing abruptly ceased, the trembling ground stilled, and all was quiet once more. Yet above, tens of thousands of black shadows, born of resentment, still flitted back and forth.

Surrounded by black mist, Li Pingyang glanced at the giant centipede—it was this creature that had led him to be devoured by the ghosts and fall into the demonic path.

Wielding the short sword wreathed in black flames, Li Pingyang lunged at the beast. Now that the wailing had stopped, the monster no longer feared him and lunged, jaws agape.

As he was swallowed, Li Pingyang thrust his sword straight through its body and emerged on the other side. Then, with a backward slash brimming with malice, he brought the matter to a decisive end.

The centipede’s armored plates slid off one after another, a sword mark splitting its body down the middle, from which blood spurted as it was cleaved in two.

Riding the black mist, Li Pingyang gently descended to the ground, coughing up blood and clutching his chest. The malice was too powerful; wielding it brought a painful backlash.

When he opened his clothes to look, the wound that had pierced him was gone. Along with the power he had gained, his injuries had all healed.

Yet the potent resentment was beyond his control, impossible to suppress. If left unchecked, one day it would consume him entirely, turning him into nothing but a sacrifice.

He went to Naruoger’s side and checked his breathing—thankfully, he had only fainted. Just as he was about to carry him out, darkness overcame him and he collapsed beside his companion.

...

When Li Pingyang woke again, he was no longer at the bottom of the cliff.

Opening his eyes, he saw that the sky was bright and the sunlight dazzling; shielding his eyes, he slowly adjusted.

He found himself leaning against a great tree, a campfire burning before him. A skewer of rabbit meat roasted over the flames, its aroma mouthwatering.

A cloth lay across his forehead, warmed by his heat, and when he woke, it slipped into his hand. Thanks to his own fever, his temperature had finally subsided.

As it turned out, after Li Pingyang fainted, Naruoger woke to find the slain centipede’s corpse. Li Pingyang lay beside it, the short sword of black flames clutched tightly in his hand.

Naruoger tried to remove the sword, but Li Pingyang’s grip was unyielding. When he touched his hand, he found his body burning with fever.

He checked his forehead—also burning hot. Li Pingyang muttered fevered words in his sleep, impossible to rouse.

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After the centipede’s death, Naruoger discovered a passage leading out beneath the pool of water and carried Li Pingyang to safety through it.

Throughout Li Pingyang’s fevered unconsciousness, Naruoger tended him with care, gathering wild fruit, squeezing juice to his lips to keep him hydrated.

He soaked a cloth in the nearby pool, laying it on Li Pingyang’s forehead to reduce his fever, toiling through the night.

The mountain was bitterly cold at night, but there was plenty of firewood nearby. He found a sheltered spot, lit a fire, and kept the animals at bay with the light.

Fearing the presence of demons, Naruoger barely closed his eyes, staying vigilant against a tree throughout the night.

Now, seeing Li Pingyang awake, Naruoger yawned in relief and excitement, hurrying over to ask how he was.

After enduring hardship together, his view of Li Pingyang was completely changed—he now admired and respected him as a true man.

Having survived life and death together, this was an unforgettable experience. In the future, he hoped to visit the Song Dynasty again, to see his friend and brother.

“Much better, thank you. Cough, cough…”

Li Pingyang sat up, his body weak. A cool breeze made him cough again.

Naruoger handed him the roasted rabbit, saying he had already eaten and this was saved for him. Li Pingyang, truly hungry, accepted without hesitation.

“Li Goudan!”

Halfway through his meal, he heard a familiar voice. Turning, he saw Li Hu. Li Hu had led a group, following the white smoke from the fire, and found their location.

The bald, burly man who had come with Naruoger also greeted him on seeing he was safe, though Naruoger knew the man would have preferred otherwise.

After a short rest, they all left the forest together.