When first entering the Spirit Void 68. Sacrificing the Living to the Sword

At first, Jie Qingzi was shocked by what she saw, but then she spoke coldly, “The wounds on your body, did you get them because you were so overjoyed at meeting your long-lost junior sister that you lost your composure, slipped down the mountainside, and were scratched by thorns and sharp stones?”

Jie Zhenzi couldn’t help but laugh and cry at her words. With a sigh, she said, “Sister, please stop mocking me. These aren’t wounds from falling. She deliberately attacked me.”

“Who would believe such nonsense? After you met her, you were so afraid I’d disturb your reunion that you left without so much as a word. How could she possibly bear to hurt you like this?”

Jie Zhenzi let out a long sigh. “Sister, don’t misunderstand. I truly am like a mute forced to swallow bitterness, unable to speak of my sufferings.”

Jie Qingzi gave a cold, skeptical sigh. “Has she truly had a change of heart toward you?”

This question caught Jie Zhenzi off guard. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. In her heart, she knew her junior sister hadn’t really changed her feelings, but was only jealous and suspected she had fallen for someone else… But how could she say this aloud?

But she was unwilling to lie, so she only shook her head and hesitated, saying, “It’s not that her feelings have changed—there’s just been a misunderstanding.”

“Nonsense! Who would believe you?” Jie Qingzi spat, then immediately used her “gecko scaling the wall” skill, pressed her back against the cliff to the right, and swiftly climbed down.

Abbot Tianhong chanted a Buddhist phrase and said, “Jie Qingzi, I’ve been here all along, ready to support you. I saw clearly all that happened below the cliff. Perhaps the masked man was moved by your tearful plea and so leapt down the gorge and left!”

The Destitute Scholar laughed heartily. “If it weren’t for Jie Qingzi’s performance, anyone else would have found it hard to escape this calamity.”

Jie Zhenzi frowned. “Such a steep and deep ravine—if the masked man leapt down, even with the best martial arts, he couldn’t avoid injury. This is the perfect opportunity.”

The Hundred Flowers Lady walked slowly to Jie Qingzi’s side, curtsied, and said, “Sister, that was so dangerous! Your actions just now scared me so much my heart is still pounding!”

Jie Qingzi looked at the Hundred Flowers Lady in a daze. Seeing her not only beautiful but also poised, she felt a sense of kinship, returned the courtesy, and smiled, asking, “May I know your name, and how old are you?”

The Destitute Scholar interjected, “Her name is Lü Mingzhu. She is my newly adopted goddaughter.”

The Hundred Flowers Lady giggled. “Godfather, I’m seventeen now! Why didn’t you tell Sister?”

At this moment, Abbot Tianhong was observing the terrain and suddenly noticed the cliff on the left was not as steep as the one beneath their feet. He interrupted the three and suggested, “Let’s go! We’ll climb down from the left and have a look.”

It took them about half an hour to descend the sloping cliff on the left to the bottom of the gorge.

The gorge was flanked by sheer cliffs, filled with wild grass as tall as a man. When the evening wind blew, the grass rippled like waves, rustling noisily. The cliffs were high, the gorge deep, and no moonlight penetrated, leaving an eerie, chilling air.

All of them had keen eyesight and could discern the lay of the land even in the darkness. The gorge twisted and wound its way toward the Zhechuan region.

Where they now stood was two or three li from the spot where the masked man had plunged down. The seven of them used their lightness skills to glide swiftly over the grass toward the place where the masked man had fallen.

At the spot where the masked man had jumped, much of the wild grass was trampled, streaked with bright red blood, and a piece of black cloth from a mask lay torn on the ground.

Searching carefully nearby, it seemed a fierce struggle had taken place. But aside from the trampled grass within a radius of three or four zhang, there was no other trace.

Jie Qingzi used her sword tip to pick up the black cloth, examining it carefully. It was not the mask worn by the person who had threatened her, and so her despair and pain gave way to a sliver of elusive hope.

The seven of them stood in a daze amid the battered grass, unable to guess what had happened. Eventually, Abbot Tianhong called everyone to move on toward the mouth of the gorge.

They sped along the grassy floor of the ravine for about the time it takes to eat a meal, when suddenly a cliff blocked their way.

Abbot Tianhong stopped first and examined the cliff for a path, but finding none, he noticed to the left, under the cliff, a large cave about two zhang high and equally wide. Above the cave entrance, three large characters were carved: “Cave of Prajna.” The strokes were thin and deep, as if carved by someone skilled in the Vajra Finger technique.

Seeing this strangely named cave, he turned to the others and said, “This cave is most peculiar. I wonder if it passes through the mountain. If it does, it would be a shortcut.”

Jie Zhenzi replied first, “Whether it leads anywhere or not, we might as well go in and see. The masked man haunts this area—he may be hiding inside, and while he’s injured, we can seize the chance to eliminate him.”

The Destitute Scholar sneered. “We can look inside, but let’s hope the masked man isn’t there. Otherwise, though we were born at different times, we’ll end up dying in the same place.”

Abbot Tianhong was secretly alarmed on hearing this. He had wanted to suggest they turn back and seek another route, but then he thought: if they could rid the martial world of the masked man, it would avert a great disaster.

Mo Dao, seeing Abbot Tianhong deep in thought, smiled and said, “Life and death are in the hands of fate. Even if the masked man is in the cave, it doesn’t mean we’ll die there.”

Jie Qingzi, however, had different thoughts. She actually hoped to see the masked man again and said, “The masked man’s martial arts are indeed profound, but with so many experts here, we need not fear him.”

The Destitute Scholar laughed aloud, “Jie Qingzi, I know you’re eager to see him again. That’s fine if it’s just you, but if you persuade us all to enter and we meet the masked man, can you guarantee everyone’s safety?”

Abbot Tianhong, hearing the tension in their words, hurriedly said, “With Master Bi Shi present, even if the masked man is inside, there will be danger but no disaster.” With that, he leaped into the cave.

At first, the cave was faintly lit by slanting moonlight, but after two or three zhang, it was pitch black. But the seven of them all possessed sharp eyesight; after a brief pause, they continued onward.

The ground was dry at first, but the cave wound and twisted. In some parts it was high enough to walk upright, in others so low they had to stoop.

After about the time it takes to eat a meal, they suddenly felt water droplets falling inside the cave, striking their heads and necks with a chill that made them shiver. The ground felt slippery underfoot, as if covered with a thick layer of moss. Anyone without martial training would certainly have slipped.

The Destitute Scholar asked, “How do you know they were poisoned by the Ghost Bride’s fungus?”

The Pure Yang Daoist replied, “I checked their breathing—all normal, just in a deep sleep. The fungi cultivated by the Ghost Bride are extremely toxic. No matter how deep your internal strength, if it doesn’t kill you, it will put you to sleep for days before you wake naturally.”

The Destitute Scholar said, “So from what you say, there’s nothing to do but wait for them to wake on their own—there’s no other cure!”

The Pure Yang Daoist replied, “If what I’ve heard is correct, we must wait for them to recover naturally. There is no other way.”

The Destitute Scholar glanced at Sleeve of Heavens and asked with a laugh, “Brother Yun, since you know the Ghost Bride has a sword called ‘Sword of Will and Form,’ why didn’t we see her use it earlier?”

Sleeve of Heavens, Yun Haoran, replied, “The Sword of Will and Form has been famous in the martial world for ages. It’s a supreme blade, though its quality doesn’t match Moye or Ganjiang, but in combat, its power surpasses both.”

The Destitute Scholar was skeptical. “A sword’s worth lies in its quality. If the quality’s inferior, how can it be so powerful? I don’t understand; please explain.”

Sleeve of Heavens said, “Legend has it that a hundred years ago, there was an eccentric in the martial world, not yet thirty, but already renowned. He mastered all the greatest martial arts from every school—”

The Destitute Scholar interjected, “But he was so young—how could he have learned so much? If one school took him as a disciple, another wouldn’t.”

Yun Haoran replied, “He wasn’t a disciple of any great school. He studied under an old martial master for two years, then roamed the world. He was born with extraordinary talent—if he fought you even once, he could master all your techniques. So in just a few years, he stole all the secrets of every sect.”

The Destitute Scholar exclaimed, “A genius, truly a genius.”

Yun Haoran went on, “After ten years roaming the martial world, he became the number one expert. But fame breeds envy and disaster. Ultimately, he was defeated by a remarkable woman wielding the ‘Wind and Thunder Sword.’”

“It wasn’t that his martial arts were inferior, but that the ‘Wind and Thunder Sword’ was so powerful—every move came with the force of storm and lightning, leaving him no choice but to yield. From then on, he swore to forge a sword even stronger.”

“The next spring, he found a pile of ten-thousand-year-old cold iron in the Luminous Cave on Mount Yunwu in Guizhou. He set up a forge in the cave and spent a full year crafting the sword. But when it was done, it seemed no different from an ordinary blade, so he put it back in the furnace to reforge it.”

“Another year passed. The furnace still hadn’t burned blue, and he knew the sword was not yet complete. Suddenly, he remembered ancient swordsmiths would use human sacrifice to truly forge a sword. But in that remote mountain, there were no passersby, and he couldn’t leave—”

The Pure Yang Daoist broke in, “Did he sacrifice himself to the sword?”

Yun Haoran nodded. “Exactly. He cut off both his legs, so he couldn’t move. Even if he finished the sword, how could he ever wield it again? In a final rage, he threw himself into the furnace.”

The Destitute Scholar asked, “Then how did the sword end up with the Ghost Bride?”

Yun Haoran replied, “After that genius died, the furnace fire turned pure blue. No one discovered it at the time, but every year on the day of his death, a great sword light would shoot from the Luminous Cave. This pillar of sword light was seen by the Daoist nun Jieliao from Yunwu Temple. She followed it to the cave, found the sword, and on the stone wall—engraved by the Vajra Finger—she read the story of how the sword was forged.”

“So Jieliao copied down the account and inscribed it onto the blade. Afterward, she used the sword to rid the martial world of many villains. It’s said that she later took a disciple and retired to this very cave, never appearing in the world again. She named the cave ‘Cave of Prajna.’”