Chapter 13

The Broken Concealment Sword stood in the center, its dense golden sword intent radiating from the ground, then rising to form a semicircular sword barrier that enveloped the three of them, blocking the relentless deadly attacks from all sides.

Fu Zhaowei’s sharp gaze swept once more over Chang Yang’s right arm, still bleeding profusely.

Within the entire Huangliang dream, all were spiritual forms. Previously, he could draw ointment from the storage ring only because he, too, was a figure within the dream — whatever he desired could be obtained. But once fully awake, he could no longer retrieve the ointment for her.

Now, Fu Zhaowei could only wield the Broken Concealment Sword, which had long since fused with him as one.

Chang Yang didn’t notice his attention lingering on her wound and asked, “How do I wake up?”

Fu Zhaowei looked through her slightly youthful face and saw instead the slender, sharp young female cultivator, like a blade unsheathed. He slowly said, “When you remember who you truly are, you will awaken.”

Chang Yang furrowed her brow—who exactly was she?

Fu Zhaowei pressed his palm against Li Zhizheng’s spiritual palace, vast spiritual power surging in to sustain his spiritual form. At the same time, the golden sword barrier began to fade.

“Chang Yang, I am linking my spiritual power with his; interference is intolerable,” Fu Zhaowei said calmly. “If the sword barrier breaks, there will be no escape.”

Chang Yang’s brow tightened as she understood his meaning.

Half an hour later, whether Fu Zhaowei and Li Zhizheng survived depended entirely on her awakening.

More and more cultivators wearing rat-headed masks surged forward like moths to a flame, throwing themselves ceaselessly against the sword barrier.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

They struck the barrier but were not repelled; instead, their bodies scattered into blood droplets that dissipated into the air.

Clearly, these rat-headed masked cultivators were not human in the conventional sense.

One wave, two waves—none could shake the sword barrier even slightly. Yet their numbers continued to swell, and those who had slipped through the broken city gate showed no sign of stopping, their vacant eyes fixed solely on attacking the sword barrier.

Chang Yang stood inside the barrier, watching the eyes-closed Fu Zhaowei, anxiety stirring within her. She could see the barrier weakening, even as the attackers multiplied.

“Whoosh—”

Another red-feathered arrow sliced through the air, piercing straight through the rat-headed figures. Its rapidly spinning arrowhead struck the sword barrier heavily, lingering there for a long moment.

Chang Yang gripped her hand instinctively. This arrow was not shot from the distant sky; the Sect Master of Tulang Sect was approaching.

Buzz—

The Broken Concealment Sword in the center suddenly trembled, and the golden sword barrier flared brightly.

Chang Yang whipped her head around to look at Fu Zhaowei seated on the ground. A single red mark adorned his brow; his lowered face was cold and detached like a banished immortal, showing no sign of strain—except for his lips, which were somewhat pale.

Clang!

The red-feathered arrow outside the barrier exhausted its power and fell to the ground.

Chang Yang had yet to relax when the rat-headed assailants battering the sword barrier paused, then scattered to either side.

In the distance, a figure seemed to walk leisurely but in truth was advancing at great speed, stopping at a moderate distance.

It was the Sect Master of Tulang Sect.

Or perhaps the very consciousness of the Huangliang dream itself.

Chang Yang watched as the approaching figure’s face no longer resembled the Sect Master alone but shifted through countless visages, save for a pair of red, sinister eyes remaining unchanged. Its body was swollen and towering, the sect robe torn away, replaced by a swirling aura of blood energy.

Suddenly, it opened its mouth wide and let out a roar. The rat-headed figures and other cultivators outside the sword barrier turned into blood mist, sucked into its body.

—

All those surrounding the sword barrier vanished, but Chang Yang knew the power across from them had grown even greater.

Even within the barrier, she felt the oppressive weight outside. The creature lifted its bow, and with a motion, five red-feathered arrows appeared on the string.

It smiled grimly at Chang Yang inside the barrier and loosed the volley.

Thud!

The arrowheads struck the sword barrier.

Not finished, it grabbed more arrows from the void, five more at once, speeding toward the barrier in unison with a whistling roar.

Thud thud—

The sword barrier shuddered violently; the sword intent sustaining it thinned.

Fu Zhaowei could no longer spare strength for the barrier. He had to devote all his power to protecting Li Zhizheng’s life force.

The barrier would not hold for another half hour.

Chang Yang turned to the two, knowing that if that thing broke through, there would be no chance to flee.

Thud—

Another piercing volley crashed into the barrier.

Crash!

The barrier shattered like glass. The Broken Concealment Sword in the center rang out and fell to the ground. Its owner’s face was pale, blood seeping from the corner of his lips.

Chang Yang’s eyes shot up—It was moving!

Without hesitation, she ripped the half-arrowhead from her right arm and hurled it fiercely at the creature.

Clang!

Before the half-arrowhead neared, the humanoid monster knocked it aside, and Chang Yang already drew her sword, clashing head-on with it.

The monster’s face twisted into a mocking sneer, as if to ridicule her audacity.

Its bow transformed instantly into a razor-sharp curved blade, slashing viciously toward Chang Yang’s abdomen.

She sensed the fierce blade wind and even the lingering stench of blood. She bent to dodge but still received a gash across her waist.

She did not know the origin of that curved blade but felt a burning corrosion in the wound, as if some filth had entered her body, draining her spiritual power and clouding her mind.

In that moment, instinct told her—

She should flee.

Ignoring Fu Zhaowei and Li Zhizheng, two strangers to her, might grant her a chance to escape.

Yet just as blood sprayed from her side, Chang Yang twisted slightly, her right hand swinging her sword to strike the humanoid monster.

Though she knew it could evade, though her cultivation was inferior, she chose to stay and fight.

Pfft—

The monster made no attempt to dodge, allowing her sword to strike. The wound instantly healed.

At the same time, another curved blade appeared in its left hand, swinging toward her neck.

Chang Yang’s dark eyes flashed sharply. She instinctively moved like drifting smoke, narrowly avoiding the neck strike. The blade slammed heavily into her shoulder.

Only a thin layer of skin remained on her shoulder; the blade’s edge bit into the bone with a grating sound. The monster’s immense strength forced the blade down, trying to pin her to the ground, even raising its other curved blade.

The intense pain sharpened Chang Yang’s previously muddled mind. Her knee was already half bent. As the second blade closed in, she bent both knees, broke free from the weight on her shoulder, twisted her body to the limit before collapsing to her knees, and with her right wrist guiding the sword, slashed at its calf.

“A stab like a rigid needle, the wrist leads a line of sword intent surging forth.”

Suddenly, a male voice echoed in her mind.

As she twisted, her back straightened by reflex, the sword thrust like a needle, striking the humanoid monster.

“Ah!”

The monster screamed wildly as both its calves were severed. Its left hand’s curved blade missed.

Taking advantage of the moment, Chang Yang drew back, her gaze tightening. That phrase just now… she recalled a figure from her memories—handsome and arrogant. When he spoke, he struck his own wrist and back with his sword.

Someone had taught her swordsmanship? Who was he?

Her spiritual core throbbed painfully, but she no longer retreated, allowing the pain to deepen.

“It’s our Seven Killing Star Lord. Once he strikes, ghostly stone monsters vanish in an instant,” came another unfamiliar young voice, tinged with enthusiasm.

Chang Yang’s spiritual core felt as if countless needles pierced it. Her vision blurred as she faced the advancing humanoid monster again, bracing herself.

She was steadily pushed back, wounds multiplying. The monster, now regrown with new legs, raged furiously, its twin curved blades slashing fiercely at her shoulder and waist.

This time, it forced her heavily to her knees.

A power too great to resist crushed her, death looming ever nearer.

The monster’s fury and pride could be felt through the force of its blades alone. Chang Yang bowed her head under the pressure, her heart icy and resolute: she did not want to die—not now, not ever. She wanted to live long and become so strong no one could stand against her.

She, Chang Yang, would become the one above all peaks.

In that instant, indescribable agony tore through her spiritual core. Yet amid the chaos, countless memories flooded in.

“Senior, do you regret it?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Fellow cultivator, carry me along. Later, I will bestow blessings to turn your fate.”

“I am White Brow.”

“Li Zhizheng, engage the battle!”

“The Star Realm forbids killing.”

…

Chang Yang suddenly lifted her head, a gentle smile playing on her lips, though her black pupils remained cold as ice. She murmured almost inaudibly, “All those who stand in my way—be they human, demon, or monster—will become souls lost beneath my sword.”