Fellow Daoist! That scoundrel has written a new book again.

Chapter 411 The Fly Through the Window

The bladeless sword exuded a chilling killing intent.

Only now did Zhu Wuyao realize that the Falling Leaf Sword Technique he had used before was so limited.

Swords are inherently tools for killing.

However, Zhu Wuyao always used a broken sword.

When a sword is stripped of its edge and sharpness, lacking its most important fierceness and sharpness, how can it be used for killing or sword cultivation?

I wish you well, but I'm not invited, so I might be a little suspicious.

On that day, Gu Yiguan came to ask questions at the Star-Picking Tower. However, Gu Yiguan was a domineering cultivator, and even she herself did not believe his words, yet she used them to mislead her.

Back then, when Zhu Wuyao learned of the old grudge with Shen Xun, it was a time when cause and effect were unclear, gratitude and hatred were intertwined, and it was difficult to distinguish right from wrong.

Under the "earnest teachings" of the Star-Picking Tower, he actually became a chivalrous person for many years.

I never imagined that I would use the desire to kill to supplement my sword intent.

She does not regret the good deeds she has done.

But when the sword tip was finally completed and the true power of the Falling Leaf Sword Technique was revealed, one couldn't help but feel a sense of self-mockery—

For many years, they have been tying their own hands and feet.

He fought amidst the bloodshed of the cultivation world with only a blunt sword.

If you say that Zhaixinglou didn't have ulterior motives, Zhu Wuyao would find it hard to believe.

She didn't know who had died by her sword, nor did she know their life story or the grandeur of their past. All she knew was that anyone within ten feet of the ice coffin could be killed.

The drumbeats were so fierce, like the sound of raging fire.

The tranquility of the paradise was shattered.

A child cries at night, but no lullaby accompanies him to sleep. This is true tonight, and it will be true thereafter.

In the nightmares that followed—

There was a ruthless demon, whose sword moved with lightning speed. Blood splattered on his cold and stern face, obscuring his features. Only his eyes, heavy with murderous intent, seemed to pierce through the thick night, imprinted in his dreams, reaping the lives of his loved ones.

She stood guard in front of the ice coffin.

As the battle raged on, a profound sense of sorrow settled over the members of the Queshan clan.

So many people died that they piled up like a mountain, and in the end, it was even necessary for ordinary people who had not yet entered the Dao to kill her with sticks.

Sending someone to their death was exceptionally absurd and ridiculous.

Zhu Wuyao didn't have time to distinguish who was who, and couldn't even hear the curses around him.

She could only hear the faint fluctuations of spiritual energy to judge where the enemy would attack from; she could only hear the hum of swords clashing and the vibrations when sharp blades were drawn.

Fallen leaves are flying.

It is invisible and formless.

Transformed into countless sharp blades, slicing through this beautiful night of reunion.

Countless red lines intertwined before his eyes, and Zhu Wuyao remained unparalleled in his calmness, killing with complete absorption and ease.

Until the sword intent grew stronger, he was reborn amidst the surging blood and slaughter.

Both red and black.

When it pierces the still night, it is like the last remaining embers after everything has been wiped out, causing everything that is hot, vibrant, and passionate... to vanish into thin air. This is the third level of the Falling Leaf Sword Technique - Heat Death.

Thousands of sword shadows appeared simultaneously.

They accurately located all the fresh creatures that had attacked.

In an instant, everything was annihilated.

There was silence between heaven and earth.

The noisy, buzzing sound finally stopped, and the ashes, which filled the air, scattered gently.

In the still night, countless stars are lit up, then extinguished.

Zhu Wuyao stood amidst the ashes, in the silence and the clamor, witnessing the curtain fall. She took a step back, seemingly not expecting the power of that sword strike.

Until a hand covered in sticky blood was placed on the ice coffin.

The chill seeped into my bones.

After she raised her hand, she realized that the ice coffin was also splattered with bloodstains and had a glaring bloody handprint on it, so she raised her sleeve to wipe it off.

Zhu Wuyao looked at the peacefully sleeping Ji Yuezhang through the ice.

Extremely satisfied.

Then I felt that the surroundings were incredibly empty.

The blood was a smear, making it almost impossible to see the face of the person sleeping in the ice.

Zhu Wuyao lowered his sleeves.

She carried the ice coffin on her back, trying to find a clean place to put it; she couldn't let Ji Yuezhang wake up to find this scene before her.

We can't let Ji Yuezhang wake up amidst blood and filth.

Thinking this, Zhu Wuyao carried the ice coffin on his back and walked step by step out of the silence, wanting to bring her back to the hustle and bustle, back to the mortal world.

She trod across the land soaked in blood.

As dawn broke, the dew was cold.

She should be delighted; every chivalrous hero who saves a fairy in distress should be filled with boundless pride.

But she felt tired.

He seemed to finally breathe a sigh of relief.

So all the mountains she had crossed, the rivers she had forded, and the cities she had passed through weighed down on her shoulders.

And so, on top of the immense weight, another pebble was added.

Zhu Wuyao turned around.

I saw a barefoot little girl.

That sword strike was aimed at everyone around who had attacked, and many sleeping children who were too afraid to go out were thus saved.

But this child, instead of living a proper life, dared to chase after her and throw stones at her.

She walked barefoot on the land soaked in the blood of her loved ones.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she cried as she said:

"You wicked man... give me back my mother...!"

Zhu Wuyao gazed quietly at her stubborn face and saw the grievance and hatred in her eyes.

Then he turned away and ignored him.

They continued carrying the ice coffin down the mountain.

The little girl rushed over and pulled out a knife she had found at home, but crashed heavily into the protective shield and fell to the ground, her tender palms being cut by the hard stone.

Zhu Wuyao knew that there were still people alive in the Queshan clan.

But she was already tired of killing.

distance--

Gu Yiguan arrived at this place at some unknown time and watched the slaughter from afar. She saw Zhu Wuyao's broken sword being mended and witnessed the power of that sword strike.

She lowered her eyes slightly and looked at the girl who had gripped the dagger tightly again.

As expected, she had a master-disciple relationship that ended up in the far south.

This person suffered the tragedy of his entire family being wiped out. He was brave and resolute, daring to face cultivators as a mortal, bearing the blood feud and remaining unyielding.

Now, Gu Yiguan was somewhat confused about which one it was.

She looked up again at Zhu Wuyao's back as he carried the coffin. She saw no sense of triumph, only loneliness and desolation.

It was clearly a sharp sword that had just been drawn from its sheath, yet it was already covered in rust.

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Zhu Wuyao has found a place with beautiful mountains and clear waters.

They gathered firewood and started a campfire. The cultivators weren't exactly cold, but with a little fire, they could at least feel some warmth.

Burn the blood-stained clothes.

She washed away the bloodstains on her body, circulated her internal energy to heal her wounds, and stopped bleeding.

The battle had depleted her spiritual energy excessively; even a blow from a Nascent Soul cultivator had caused her internal injuries. However, after being cleaned up, there was no visible abnormality on the surface.

Zhu Wuyao knelt by the stream, looking at his own appearance in the water.

Fortunately, he was a monk.

Even after being separated for more than ten years, their appearance should not have changed much; they should not be much different from when they left the city.

When Ji Yuezhang opened his eyes, he probably couldn't imagine how many years had passed. He would only feel as if he had just taken a nap. When he woke up again, the faces of his old friends were still the same, and nothing had changed.

Only upon closer inspection would one realize that they had become a Golden Core cultivator.

Thinking of this, Zhu Wuyao smiled.

The reflection of the person in the water smiled slightly, but quickly disappeared with the ripples, and their appearance was no longer visible.