Chapter 115: Red Moon as Eyes

In the courtyard, the two stood facing each other. Zhao Xiang'er tossed him a peach wood sword. Ning Changjiu frowned, asking, "Isn't this for boxing practice?"

Zhao Xiang'er asked, "Do you want to switch to an iron one instead?"

Ning Changjiu relented, saying, "What swordplay does Your Highness intend to practice today?"

Zhao Xiang'er replied, "I don't know specific sword moves, so how could it be a technique?"

Ning Changjiu explained, "You might not have specific sword forms, but after wielding a sword for a long time, everyone develops familiar movements. These subtle, ingrained actions are also a form of technique."

Zhao Xiang'er pondered for a moment, then nodded. "That makes some sense," she conceded.

Though she agreed with Ning Changjiu, her sword strike lost no speed. The peach wood sword swept over the dark, frozen ground, and as she leaped gracefully, its tip descended from above, aiming for Ning Changjiu’s chest. Ning Changjiu parried with his own sword; the wooden blade’s tip slid along the central groove of his, forcing him to lower his stance slightly.

As the two wooden swords lunged and parried, their robes and skirts spun in the brief moment of contact, obscuring the blades' trajectories. Both aimed at incredibly tricky angles. Between their two white garments, the wooden swords flashed like diving sparrows, their momentary clash producing a dull thud unique to wood. The two swords parted, their edges meeting and sliding forward.

As if by telepathy, they both twisted their wrists simultaneously, their sword blades intertwining. Had these been two flexible iron swords imbued with spiritual energy, they would likely have coiled together like pulled noodles.

However, the two wooden swords collided and twisted, only producing a faint shower of splinters. As the sword tip neared his wrist, Ning Changjiu was the first to release his grip, slapping the hilt and sending the peach wood sword directly towards her chest. But Zhao Xiang'er remained unfazed, taking a slight step back. Her other hand, quick as lightning, snatched the incoming sword, while her own sword continued its relentless pursuit.

The sword tip pressed closer to Ning Changjiu’s throat. With no time to retreat, he sharply leaned back, simultaneously kicking out a leg at her wrist, aiming to disrupt the momentum of her sword-wielding hand.

Though Zhao Xiang'er’s long sword swept past, missing its mark, her other hand, which had seized his sword, chopped down directly, striking his calf. Ning Changjiu winced in pain; the instant numbness in his leg bone was slow to dissipate. Zhao Xiang'er’s wrist also didn't escape unharmed, struck by Ning Changjiu's shoetip, causing her sword hand to falter for a beat, unable to continue her pursuit.

Ning Changjiu regained his stance, his finger precisely clamping onto the sword edge Zhao Xiang'er intended to pivot. His finger slid up the blade, reaching the guard, where he gripped it tightly, then sharply twisted, attempting to snatch the sword. Zhao Xiang'er sneered, flicking her other wrist. "Here, take it back," she said.

The wooden sword she had just seized flew out sideways, like a boomerang, circling in the air before arcing towards Ning Changjiu’s back. Unable to snatch the sword quickly, Ning Changjiu was forced to abandon his attempt, turning his body sideways to barely dodge the backstab.

The backstab’s momentum didn't cease; it brushed past his armpit. After the sword had largely swept past him, Ning Changjiu immediately reached behind and grasped the hilt, using its undiminished momentum to thrust forward.

"Is that all you’ve learned in a month?" Zhao Xiang'er said with a faint sneer, suddenly raising her hand and lifting the wooden sword high. Her gaze, sharp as a torch, fixed on the incoming sword’s trajectory, then she brought it down with a brutal chop, like striking a snake.

With a "thwack," the impact reverberated down the wooden sword to his hand. Ning Changjiu's spiritual energy simultaneously vibrated, neutralizing the shock before it could take full effect. His sword’s momentum remained, even accelerating, aiming directly for Zhao Xiang'er’s chest. A hint of approval flashed in Zhao Xiang'er’s eyes, but her attack was by no means gentle. Pouring spiritual energy into her wooden sword, she swung her sleeve and brought the blade down again, completely shattering his sword energy.

Mid-air, the wooden sword's blade was bent from the impact. Though Ning Changjiu didn't release his grip, the sword energy on his arm felt like a thousand pounds, making it impossible to lift.

Zhao Xiang'er, relentless, struck his wrist again with the flat of her sword. Ning Changjiu hastily withdrew his sword, but couldn’t avoid the blow and was struck once more. His sword flew from his hand and dropped. Ning Changjiu raised his foot and forcefully kicked the hilt of the falling sword. The wooden sword, propelled by the impact, changed direction again, thrusting directly towards Zhao Xiang'er.

This sword, of course, couldn't harm her; it was merely Ning Changjiu's delaying tactic. Zhao Xiang'er flicked a finger, precisely hitting the sword tip, knocking it to the ground again.

She flashed forward, closing in on Ning Changjiu. With a "thwack," she struck his palm with the wooden sword, leaving a noticeable red mark. "Is this all the progress you’ve made after a month of hard practice?" she taunted.

Ning Changjiu's cultivation in his previous life had been far superior to hers. Now, like a tiger fallen into a plain, being lectured by a sixteen-year-old girl, he felt a surge of anger. He reached out to snatch her sword blade, saying, "If you're so confident, let's have a match at the same cultivation level!"

Zhao Xiang'er didn't find lowering her cultivation level shameful. She neatly batted away his hand, saying, "What if you're invincible at the same level? If you meet an enemy, can you make them lower their level for you?"

With that, Zhao Xiang'er’s long sword pressed closer, unleashing countless sword intents that completely surrounded the unarmed Ning Changjiu. Streaks of sword qi surged forth, forcing him to continuously retreat. The wooden sword pierced through the sword shadows, striking his palm again. Ning Changjiu retracted his hand, squeezing it tightly to suppress the pain.

"I asked you to help me with practice, not assault me!" Ning Changjiu said, struggling to dodge Zhao Xiang'er’s attacks.

Zhao Xiang'er struck his palm again. "Lu Jiajia can hit you, but I can’t?" she asked.

Ning Changjiu put his hands behind his back and retreated with staggered steps. Zhao Xiang'er’s figure was like wind, almost clinging to him. She reached out and blocked Ning Changjiu’s chest, cutting off his escape, while her other hand struck his back with the flat of her sword, hitting him three times in quick succession and knocking him to the ground. Zhao Xiang'er’s sword qi then came to rest, stopping steadily just before his brow.

Zhao Xiang'er suddenly asked, "Do you truly wish for me to lower my cultivation level?"

Ning Changjiu smiled, shaking his head with an incredibly firm expression. "No need," he said. "Your Highness is right; when facing an enemy, what foe would lower their cultivation level, even by half, for you?"

Zhao Xiang'er murmured, "What if I don't lower my level and nearly kill you?"

Ning Changjiu's expression remained serious, as if giving an assurance: "Don't worry, I won't die."

Zhao Xiang'er hummed softly in acknowledgment.

Ning Changjiu's expression then relaxed, and he chuckled, "If Your Highness truly dared to fight at the same level, it would probably be you lying on the ground right now. I hold grudges very well, so don't expect me to show mercy."

"You're asking for death," Zhao Xiang'er's lips thinned slightly. Her black hair danced wildly by her beautiful, ice-like face. With a swing of her wide sleeve, she thrust her sword, her arm and the blade almost forming a single line. Her elegant back was straight, her flowing skirt nearly aligning with her graceful neck, an image of unparalleled beauty.

Ning Changjiu composed himself, his fingers attempting to grasp the tip of her sword.

Then, Ning Changjiu's cries of pain echoed in the courtyard.

Inside, Ning Xiaoling, tidying the room, sighed. She set her broom aside, walked to the door, opened it a crack, and peeked out.

A touch of resentment bloomed in her heart. *What's wrong with Senior Brother?* she wondered. *He came home and didn't even come to see me first, just started fighting with Sister Xiang'er. He knows he can't win, but he still fights. Has Senior Brother lost his mind?*

After the first few exchanges, Ning Changjiu, as expected, had lost and thereafter had almost no chance to retaliate. Ning Xiaoling watched the scene unfolding in the small courtyard, and it resembled a village woman chasing a mischievous little white goose with a feather duster.

As soon as this thought occurred, Ning Xiaoling shook her head again, thinking that if it were a large white goose, it might actually dare to be fierce towards Sister Xiang'er.

Senior Brother was truly embarrassing.

She pouted, pinching and gently rubbing the corner of her robe, her face serious as if undecided. After a while, she finally mustered her courage, pushed the door open, and shouted, "Stop fighting!"

Zhao Xiang'er saw her emerge, paused her sword, and looked at her curiously. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Ning Xiaoling stated seriously, "You're not allowed to bully my Senior Brother anymore!"

Zhao Xiang'er smiled faintly. "My little junior sister is quite feisty, isn't she?"

Ning Xiaoling, summoning unknown courage, declared, "If you're going to fight, fight me too!"

Zhao Xiang'er looked at her, her eyes slightly narrowed. Behind her, Ning Changjiu stood up, patting the frozen earth off his clothes. "Junior Sister," he said, "why are you, someone only at the initial stage of Transcendent Immortal, getting involved? What kind of beating can this small body take? Besides, Senior Brother is cultivating. Are you trying to delay my cultivation?"

Ning Xiaoling puffed out her cheeks. "Senior Brother, I just..." she began.

Before she could finish, Ning Changjiu was already beside her, patting her shoulder and interrupting, "Junior Sister, when your cultivation reaches the upper stage of Transcendent Immortal, then you can spar with your Sister Xiang'er."

Ning Xiaoling’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth, but then suddenly felt the hand on her shoulder exert a little more pressure. At the same time, she also sensed Ning Changjiu’s intention—a peculiar emotion.

Her expression paused, then she seemed to understand.

Ning Xiaoling glared at him, angrily retorting, "Hmph, I won't care about you anymore! If you like being beaten, then be beaten. If you get beaten to death, I'll bury you in the snow!"

With that, she pouted indignantly, turned, and ran back into the house, grabbing the broom to sweep the dust from the floor.

On the other side of the Yellow Springs, a wheelchair was pushed into a deep alley. Madam Bai, clad in a gown of bones, sat in it, a snow-white fox fur draped over her lap.

Shubai followed silently behind her, pushing the wheelchair slowly forward without a word.

"Do you know why I didn't engage with Zhao Xiang'er?" Madam Bai asked.

Shubai shook his head. "I don't know," he replied.

For some reason, Madam Bai's health hadn't improved much over the past month. Not only had her cultivation stagnated, but her legs had also worsened day by day, making it difficult for her to walk. She had stayed in the courtyard for a month, but today she suddenly asked Shubai to push her to the river. Shubai pushed her to the river, where they encountered Zhao Xiang'er.

Shubai didn't know if it was a coincidence or if Madam Bai had foreseen it. His immediate reaction was fear; he was well aware of Madam Bai's current physical condition and knew that if Zhao Xiang'er were to make a move, Madam Bai would almost certainly die.

But for some reason, they confronted each other across the riverbank for a long time, eventually departing without engaging in a major fight.

It only left him covered in a cold sweat.

Madam Bai looked calm as he pushed her forward. She gently stroked the soft fox fur on her lap. "If they kill me, will you avenge me?" she asked.

Shubai said nothing, simply lowered his head and pushed the wheelchair forward.

The wooden wheels, wrapped in black leather, rolled over the snow, leaving a long, winding track that disappeared into the dark night, without beginning or end.

Madam Bai continued, "What did you feel when you thought I was dead, and then saw me alive again?"

Shubai was silent for a moment, then truthfully replied, "I was very scared."

Madam Bai smiled. "I thought you would be very happy," she said.

Shubai tightly gripped the back of the wheelchair, the veins on his hands bulging like struggling little green snakes. "Half the city... they all died," he murmured.

Madam Bai's eyes held a seductive charm, her ink-black hair flowing like water over her body. Amidst the pure black and white, her raised red lips stood out strikingly. She felt the killing intent behind her but ignored it, smiling slightly. "Then why don't you kill me?"

Shubai gave a bitter laugh. "You know I wouldn't kill you," he said.

Madam Bai hummed, placing her hands on her thighs. "It's better than the other side of the river. Here, I can ensure those departed souls aren't devoured by soul worms."

Shubai shook his head. "But they can't live forever," he said.

Madam Bai gazed at the red moon. "As long as I'm here, they can live like this forever," she said. "If one's existence persists, what's the difference between living and dying?"

Shubai asked, "What if one day, the sun comes out?"

Madam Bai said proudly, "It is daytime now, but the sunlight cannot penetrate this city. It will never penetrate... In ancient legends, someone once shot down the sun. I don't have a bow and arrow, but I have a moon. I can achieve the same feat."

Shubai looked up at the red moon, asking nothing further.

"I don't like that horse and that ox," Shubai said.

Madam Bai replied, "They cannot die yet. If one day they must, I will let you do it."

Shubai hummed in acknowledgment.

They continued through the snow for a while. As they neared the alley entrance, Shubai stopped.

At the end of the street corner, numerous dark figures suddenly emerged.

Those black figures were like countless crows, swarming densely into the alley and stopping before Madam Bai.

Madam Bai looked up, gazing straight ahead.

In the alley, dozens of shadowy figures stood before them. These figures swayed, their faintly glowing eyes like countless crowded bats. Even in the prolonged darkness, their surging rage was clearly palpable.

"Demoness!" someone wielding a long blade emerged from the crowd, pointing the blade tip at Madam Bai and roaring, "Demoness, you finally dared to come out today!"

Madam Bai calmly replied, "I have always been in that courtyard; you simply lacked the courage to come find me."

"Who knows what schemes you have?" the person sneered. "Now we are all here, demoness. You are at your wit's end today. The moment you stepped out of that courtyard, your death knell sounded."

Madam Bai asked, "What makes you think you can kill me?"

The leader reached back, and a head, its blood dried, was handed to him—the head of a tall, splendid horse.

The horse’s head was smashed to the ground, and the man thrust his blade into its neck. He sneered, "A month ago, dozens of grown men were no match for it, but today we killed it. We cut off its neck with little effort. Your horse is dead, and that mad bull's head will soon be chopped off and sent to you. You've been growing weaker; your right-hand men were killed, and you couldn't stop it... We endured humiliation and finally waited for this day!"

Shubai stared at the dead horse's head, frowning.

And at this moment, in the deep alley, the man holding the long blade roared, "We told you long ago, we will not let you go even as ghosts! Today, you demoness will surely die!"

That furious shout shook countless flakes of snow from the walls, and the anger of the spirits behind him was stirred by his words. They were all departed souls who had died directly or indirectly under Madam Bai's claws in this city, watching their loved ones die one by one, gradually transforming from living people into half-human, half-ghosts, and then decaying into true shades, forever unable to see sunlight.

They had previously harbored immense fear of Madam Bai, but finally, after killing the Horse-face today, a feeling as vibrant as blood filled their chests.

They gained the confidence to kill Madam Bai, and on this day, Madam Bai also happened to leave that courtyard and arrive at the bank of the Yellow Springs.

Like those on the opposite bank, they also watched from afar, nervously awaiting the outcome of this battle.

But ultimately, nothing happened.

They didn't know why, but seeing that wheelchair and fox fur, seeing the pale, weak face of the alluring woman within, they could no longer suppress themselves. Group after group gathered, waiting at the end of this unavoidable path.

At the moment the shouts of killing rose to the sky, Shubai panicked for a moment. He knew that even if Madam Bai was weak, killing these people should still be easy.

In his brief surprise, the man who had raised his long blade had already brought it down upon her.

Madam Bai offered no resistance. The blade struck her body, and although it didn't cleave her, it shattered a piece of her bone-scale armor. The shattering sound was quickly drowned out by the crowd's roar, who rushed forward en masse, surging towards Madam Bai. Those with weapons hacked and slashed at her body, while those without weapons struck her heavily with their hands, feet, and fists.

The woman sitting in the wheelchair was like a white reef in a black torrent, constantly pushed back by the crowd, at times submerged and at times revealing a glimpse of her.

Shubai stood there and was quickly pushed to the ground. He completely lost his composure, watching helplessly as the crowd engulfed Madam Bai, as knives and axes fell upon her. Although they couldn't inflict major wounds, they left countless fine blood marks on her body. Her bone gown was shattered, gradually revealing the body it had concealed.

Shubai’s heart felt as if it had been clutched by an eagle’s talons. He stood up and lunged forward, roaring, "Stop it... stop it! If you kill her, you'll die too!"

But his voice was lost in the clamor of the crowd.

Likewise, at this moment, no one cared about their own lives or deaths anymore.

Madam Bai sat quietly, without any resistance, like a true reef enduring wind and rain, knives and axes. Her blood became more abundant, redder than the moon in the sky. The blood flowed over her plump, pristine body, like a floral stream rushing through snowy ravines, and then countless similar red camellias bloomed in the white snow, dyeing everything crimson and enchanting.

Shubai gasped for air. He wanted to go against the flow of people to save her, but the shadowy figures had formed an impenetrable wall. He fell to the ground, his body trampled countless times, and his finger suddenly touched something viscous—it was blood.

More and more blood flowed out, pooling on the ground, reaching his fingertips and seeping into the cracks.

Madam Bai was enduring the torture of a thousand cuts at this moment, but her expression remained unchanged, as if the injuries on her body had nothing to do with her.

Amidst the shadowy figures, Shubai suddenly felt a surge of power in his body. He stood up in a daze, roaring at Madam Bai, "Why don't you fight back? Why don't you fight back!"

Madam Bai remained unmoved. Her fox fur was already dyed red, and the wounds on her body grew more numerous and deeper, almost revealing bone.

Shubai looked at her and suddenly understood. He spoke like a madman, "Why aren't you resisting... You're not resisting... Are you forcing me to kill?"

"You're forcing me to kill!"

He gave a bitter laugh, his words incredibly light, like a snowflake that lingered, unable to fall. His body was soon knocked to the ground again, like forgotten, melting snow.

Madam Bai, however, heard his words. Her red lips curled up, her body like a canvas splashed with red ink, silently enduring it all.

When they walked out of the alley again, Madam Bai’s lips were still curled, while Shubai was completely silent. He pushed the wheelchair forward, utterly distraught, with silence behind him.

After an unknown amount of time, Shubai finally spoke softly: "These people, you lured them here, didn't you?"

Madam Bai had no intention of hiding anything. "I had Ox-head deceive them," she said.

Shubai asked again, "You just wanted to force me to kill?"

Madam Bai nodded. "How does killing feel?"

Shubai stopped, his body swaying a few times, then he slumped to his knees. The whites of his eyes were covered in dense red streaks, horrifying to behold.

Madam Bai showed no pity for him. She merely gazed serenely at the moon in the sky, softly raising her hand as if to gently cup the distant moon. She smiled faintly, "Yama died, and White Impermanence died too. Heh, if one hundred fifty punches aren't enough, add fifty more? Rather die than lower your realm? The young couple's intentions are indeed harmonious, but do you really think I don't understand your nonsense and secret codes? What's the use of feigning ignorance with such effort, secretly raising your cultivation level just this little bit? If I wish for heaven and earth to collapse, can you two... stop me?"