My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion-Chapter 653 - 432: Not Off by an Ounce Over a Thousand Miles (Two in One)
"Stay here for now, I'll go deeper to take a look."
The two children naturally dared not wander about and obediently nodded, watching Min Ning leave.
The passage was especially dark, with patches of green moss growing along the walls. Min Ning saw a small mouse scurrying across the ground and fished out a flint lighter from her bosom, igniting it for illumination.
As she proceeded deeper, there were more black stains on the ground and a faint stench lingering in the air — the unmistakable scent of blood.
Min Ning furrowed her brows lightly.
As she ventured further, her frown deepened.
The space ahead opened up, revealing a grisly scene. Blood was splattered everywhere, a massive blade lying nearby gleaming faintly crimson. The uneven contours deeper within, upon inspection, were piles of stark white bones, rodents scurrying through the hollow eye sockets of the skulls, and strands of shattered hair scattered across the ground.
Looking closer, it became clear that all the bones were from children.
Who knows how many boys and girls had fallen victim to this...
Min Ning clenched her fists tightly.
To let this end as simply as death alone... would be far too merciful.
In the center of the space stood an enormous pill furnace of pure copper. Etched upon its surface were patterns of purple clouds of the Immortals, and its three protruding ears bore corroded and rusted inscriptions when examined closely by Min Ning.
"The myriad gods arrayed, white veins surging forth. The cinnabar glimmers bright, mercury and lead crystallize pure. Though the body dwells among mortals, the spirit roams the heavens above..."
Min Ning felt there was some profound mystery behind these verses, yet her knowledge of poetry and scripture was sparse, preventing her from comprehending it.
Zhu Yu then said, "Quanzhen Sect?"
"You recognize these words?"
"It's from 'Chongyang's 15 Teachings.'"
"Chongyang... Wang Chongyang?" Min Ning had indeed heard of this founding master of the Quanzhen Sect. She glanced at the pill furnace and continued, "Looks like this White Scholar used a Quanzhen Sect furnace to forge sword pellets. Those Sword Intent... might be deeper in?"
"Likely so, but..." Zhu Yu spoke slowly, "Have you ever wondered... why he would use living humans to forge sword pellets?"
Min Ning thought hard but answered, "I haven't thought about it."
Now that Zhu Yu mentioned it, Min Ning indeed felt some confusion. Using humans to forge sword pellets was an idea that defied conventional reasoning.
"…Without a foundation, Sword Intent cannot condense into sword pellets."
"What do you mean?"
"Inside, the Sword Intent is gaining sentience, nearly becoming a living being."
Zhu Yu slowly revealed.
Min Ning's expression tightened. Sentient Sword Intent? It was the first time she had heard of such a thing. What could be deeper inside to drive this White Scholar's obsession with forging sword pellets?
Thinking of the piles of child skeletons she had seen along the way, the slaughter of boys and girls, Min Ning couldn't help but clench her fists. If the Sword Intent inside was gaining sentience, nearly alive, then colluding with the White Scholar might not be an impossibility.
Going a step further, given the presence of a Quanzhen Sect Taoist's pill furnace here, could this White Scholar be connected to some sanctimonious Taoists behind the scenes? Could there be a Taoist mastermind plotting behind the sword pellet forging?
"Taoists are never trustworthy."
Min Ning muttered to herself.
Zhu Yu: "…"
After a pause, Min Ning reacted and explained:
"I wasn't referring to you; I meant others, like those hypocrites I encountered and killed along the way, or figures such as the Princess Jing who tread such arrogant, wicked paths."
Zhu Yu didn't dwell on the matter but simply remarked:
"This deeper area seems to be a Cave Heaven Secret Realm. Who knows where it leads? Perhaps within a single thought, it spans a thousand miles."
"If it means ridding the world of evil…"
Min Ning fixed her gaze on the depths,
"What's a mere thousand miles?"
.........
Today, Xique Pavilion launched a large-scale search of Chongyang Temple.
"Are you planning to exit through the west city gate?"
The officer swept his eyes over the group, dressed plainly. A large mule cart wrapped in heavy cloth followed them, its contents indistinct.
Master Fang lowered his head, speaking timidly:
"Yes, we're heading through the west gate to Sichuan. We hear there are wealthy merchants there who can afford us."
The gatekeeper officer barely listened to a word, gesturing for the soldiers behind him to surround the group. He himself yanked aside the mule cart's thick cloth.
Several chests came into view, alongside neatly bundled weapons: swords, staves, spears, all emitting a chilling aura that spoke of sharp edges recently honed.
"What's the meaning of these weapons?" the officer asked, turning back.
Master Fang replied cautiously, "We're performers. Whether it's for theatrics or defending ourselves from robbers, such tools are necessary for survival."
The explanation was not without merit. The officer frowned slightly, weighing whether to let them pass. Master Fang cast a quick glance, prompting a beautiful actress among the group to step forward, gently leaning against the officer.
A waft of fragrance greeted the officer's nose, momentarily muddling his judgment. Master Fang seized the moment to present a small pouch of silver, speaking humbly:
"A small token of appreciation, unworthy of your honor."
The officer's hand lingered on the actress' waist as he weighed the pouch and said:
"Fine, fine."
Moments later.
A long caravan threaded its way along the rugged mountain path, winding its way upward. Master Fang hunched his back as he led the group, gazing toward the far horizon.
He sighed deeply and said:
"After all these days, we've finally made it out."
The group of performers behind him matched his sigh with one of their own, exhaling en masse as if venting months of accumulated tension.
The sun hung high, the sky stretched endlessly clear.
The sea of clouds drifted across the distant horizon. From Xiaoguan, they had traveled long and arduously, evading countless pursuers along the way. Their intent had been to pass through Shantong City quietly, avoiding detection, but the matters surrounding the Lonely Smoke Sword forced them into dangerous delay. The peril faced could be imagined. Now, with their immediate worries laid to rest, they noticed how melodious the bird songs echoing through the mountains really were.
A performer who often played young male roles stepped forward and asked:
"Master, where to next?"
"To Jianmen Pass. Once there, we'll return to Jin territory. The route ahead holds no great danger, with just a few towns scattered here and there. We'll take the lesser-used roads. Even if Xique Pavilion reacts and searches this mountainous region, it would be like fishing a needle from the sea."
Finally breaking free from the treacherous Shantong City, Duomian Ghost's long-furrowed brow relaxed. Inside that small county, they had come close to total defeat several times. Whether it was Xique Pavilion or people like Huang Jing, they could afford many setbacks, but for Duomian Ghost and his group, a single loss meant total ruin.
Upon hearing Duomian Ghost's response, the young performer relaxed as well, glancing back at Shantong City:
"What a pity… about our brothers and sisters."
Duomian Ghost did not look back, his gaze steady as he said:
"Those who live by this trade live by selling their lives.
Everyone needs something worth living for."
Though they had finally left the city, safety was far from guaranteed. They had lost far too much, yet Duomian Ghost had a heart of iron. Whatever emotions stirred inside him were fleeting.
The young performer bowed his head and said, "Master's words carry wisdom."
Duomian Ghost pressed a hand to his temple and continued, "The court is in turmoil, factions rise and clash, and the Prime Minister is caught between conflicting demands. Though the Prime Minister bears the name Wanyan, he harbors ambitions to expand territory. Yet the other Wanyan family members are content merely to safeguard their domains. With these border reports, the Prime Minister could petition the Emperor above while stabilizing Wanyan affairs below. As for the Lonely Smoke Sword's Wanyan Jing… he is rumored to be the Prime Minister's son. Truth or hearsay remains unclear."
The young performer replied, "It's likely true. Back when the Prime Minister fled from vengeance against him, he abandoned his son in the wilderness with only a keepsake on him."
"Enough of that. There's no sense dwelling on it. Let's hope he has gone far by now."
Duomian Ghost spoke so, as Xique Pavilion conducted their raid on Chongyang Temple. Meanwhile, they quietly escaped through the west city gate, taking the Jinmen mountain trail, while Lonely Smoke Sword—being a Third Rank martial artist and once a wolf child marked by untamed ferocity—left soon after with the infant girl in his arms.
"The Jianghu heroes, manipulated like pawns by us, and the likes of Huang Jing, Tang Ze, Yunlong Blade, Zhao Yan—all met grim ends. The great number of lives sacrificed in pursuit of the Lonely Smoke Sword by the people of Great Yu Jianghu was immeasurable."
As he reflected, Duomian Ghost recalled Huang Jing's death outside Yuanfeng Building, letting out a cold laugh:
"The Jianghu? A wave may wash away many, but it's all just loose sand in the end."
Time seemed to pass endlessly.
On the mountain trail,
The wind roared fiercely.
The rushing air brought hurricanes of fallen leaves, whipping them into a vortex along the path. A mule turned its head, huffing and snorting nervously. The group's pace slowed involuntarily, Duomian Ghost's weary eyelids drooped low, but suddenly lifted. In the distance, an unobtrusive black dot emerged.
Whirling dry leaves landed on the ground, crushed underfoot. A solitary figure crowded onto Jinmen mountain trail, bearing a sword and blade, stepping amidst the fallen leaves.
