Slaughter

The Nightmare paused in her meal when she sensed movement behind her—a fresh wave of cultivators surging in for another desperate assault. With a hiss like steam escaping a furnace, she let the mangled corpse tumble from her fangs. Blood trickled from the ruined body, splattering over the uneven ground in dark rivulets. The stench of copper and decay thickened the air.

A collective roar went up from the scattered cultivators who, only moments before, had been fleeing in terror. Their fear now mingled with fury at seeing one of their own devoured before their eyes. Driven by desperation, they launched themselves toward the gigantic spider. Some brandished half-broken blades, others conjured Spirit Arts that crackled with faint energy. Anyone still standing was in a frenzy, hearts pounding like war drums.

The Nightmare's many eyes glowed with that chilling, golden sheen once more. Those same limbs that had torn through flesh with ruthless precision snapped back into action. In a flash, her body took on a burnished radiance—a sheen that seemed to repel the cultivators' Spirit Arts as if they were mere sparks against an iron wall.

"Kill it!" a panicked voice shouted. The resulting barrage hammered into the spider's golden shell, each explosion echoing like thunder in the high cavern. Yet when the smoke cleared, the Nightmare stood unscathed, legs poised for the next strike.

She didn't wait for them to regroup. Instead, she lunged with terrifying speed, leaping among the men and women like a living scythe. One of her pointed forelegs speared through a swordsman's chest, the blow so swift he barely had time to gasp before blood bubbled up from his lips. She flung him aside with a casual flick, sending his corpse tumbling across the cavern floor.

A pair of cultivators tried to take advantage of the spider's momentary lack of defense. They rushed in, weapons raised—but the Nightmare pivoted on spindly legs that slammed into both at once, slicing one from shoulder to waist and impaling the other through the heart. Their dying screams overlapped in a gruesome harmony of terror.

For those who survived even a second of that onslaught, one truth became apparent: they stood no chance. Panic flared in their eyes, and any last shreds of courage dissolved. Sheer self-preservation spurred them toward the exit at the far end of the cave, where a wide passage sloped upward into darkness and—hopefully—freedom.

"R–retreat!" Scarface shrieked, voice cracking as he watched half a dozen cultivators gored in the space of a few heartbeats. He turned and bounded for the exit, thrusting weaker companions aside in his wild bid to escape. At times, his Qi flared around him in green bursts, propelling him faster.

Webbing hung in sheets around them, the thick threads coated in dust and decaying insect husks. A faint draft carried the reek of sweat and blood. Just beyond the group lay a dismal corridor into which the last survivors now sprinted, pushing and shoving one another in a frantic scramble.

Before Scarface could reach the passage, his breath hitched in raw panic.

The Nightmare, with impossible agility for something so massive, ricocheted off the cavern walls and landed squarely at the tunnel's mouth, her grotesque limbs splaying wide to block any chance of escape. The sudden impact sent a tremor through the ground, knocking loose bits of rock and dust from the ceiling.

Her legs slashed through the air like executioner's blades, forcing the fleeing cultivators to skid to a halt, their expressions shifting from desperation to pure horror. Any hopes of escape vanished in an instant.

There was no way out.

Scarface was many things—ruthless, pragmatic, and more than a little cruel—but a fool he was not. His years as a cultivator had taught him an undeniable truth: the strong survive, and the weak perish. And right now, all he cared about was making sure he wasn't among the latter.

"Listen to me!" he bellowed, his voice slicing through the chaos like a whip crack. "That golden defense of hers—there's no way she can keep using it endlessly! Every ability has a limit! If we hit her hard enough, we'll break through!"

His words had the desired effect. Some of the cultivators hesitated, hope flickering in their desperate eyes. Others, emboldened by his confidence, clenched their weapons tighter, resolve hardening. Scarface smirked inwardly. Idiots.

"I'll lead the charge!" he declared, making a grand display of gathering Spirit Qi into his halberd. A brilliant green aura flared around him, crackling with barely contained power. "Give it everything you've got!"

The group, unwilling to admit their fear, let out a battle cry and surged forward, weapons raised high.

And in that exact moment—Scarface turned and ran.

While the others flung themselves at the Nightmare in a frenzied last stand, he activated every trump card he had. A speed-boosting talisman burned hot against his chest, flooding his limbs with raw energy. A defensive Spirit Artifact on his wrist flared to life, a shimmering barrier forming around him to deflect any stray attacks.

He bolted for the exit, his boots hammering against the rocky ground, heart pounding like a war drum.

Behind him, chaos reigned.

Screams rang through the cavern, punctuated by the sickening crunch of bones and the wet slosh of something being torn apart. The Nightmare moved with horrifying precision, wading through the massacre like a reaper at harvest.

One cultivator, a dual-dagger wielder, managed to slip beneath her massive form, his eyes locked on the softer underbelly. A perfect strike—

But before his blades could connect, one of her hind legs snapped backward with unnatural speed, impaling him straight through the stomach. He convulsed once, twice—then went limp, his body twitching even in death.

Scarface didn't look back. He didn't need to.

The tunnel entrance came into view, framed like the gateway to salvation. The cold night air was just beyond it. He could practically taste his freedom.

His lips curled in a triumphant sneer. He had done it. He'd escape, return to the city, spin some tale about how he barely survived while the others perished. Maybe he'd even get a reward for reporting the Nightmare's strange abilities.

Then he'd drink. And whore. And live.

But just as he cleared the rocky threshold, something cold and metallic whispered through the air—

A pair of glinting daggers.

The first blade impaled him clean through the ribs with a wet thunk, slicing straight into his heart. Before he could even scream, the second dagger flashed across his throat in a swift, surgical cut.

Scarface's eyes widened, an audible gurgle escaping his lips. His knees buckled, and his body sagged to the ground as though every bone had been yanked from his frame.

Wuying stood over him, eyes filled with quiet contempt. She exhaled softly and shook her head. "Using your own subordinates as bait to escape… People like you don't deserve to live."

Xuefeng felt his stomach twist at the sight, but no bile rose to his throat this time. The day's brutal experiences had forced him to numb himself—or risk going mad with horror. Is this how it begins? he wondered, gripping his Black Flames Slayer so tight his knuckles blanched. Am I truly getting used to seeing death? To killing?

Xiao Wen must have sensed his unease because she placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "I know what you're thinking," she said, her voice softer than usual. "But it's not our job to protect them. Not him. Not any of them. If the roles were reversed, they wouldn't have hesitated to throw you to the wolves."

Xuefeng couldn't argue. He had just watched Scarface do exactly that.

His gaze shifted back toward the cavern, where the nightmare was reaching the grim conclusion of her feast. The golden sheen of her barrier was now splattered with fresh blood—some her own, but mostly that of the slaughtered cultivators.

"It's almost over," Wuying murmured beside him. "Get ready to fight."

As if on cue, a body hurtled through the air.

Xuefeng barely had time to react before instinct took over. He lunged forward, catching the bloodied figure just before it could hit the ground. The impact sent a shock up his arms—whoever it was, they were barely holding on to life.

The young man in his arms coughed violently, blood bubbling from his lips. His hands, slick and trembling, clutched at Xuefeng's shirt with fading strength. His eyes were unfocused, pupils blown wide with pain and desperation.

And then, barely above a whisper, came the words.

"…Hao Ai…"

Xuefeng stiffened.

The man coughed again, red streaking his chin. With the last of his strength, he pressed a storage bracelet into Xuefeng's chest, his fingers trembling.

"…My wife… she's pregnant…"

A wet, gurgling breath.

"…Please…"

His grip weakened.

"…Give it to her… Money… inside…"

A final exhale.

His fingers slipped away, falling limp.

For an instant, time seemed to slow. Xuefeng could see every line of anguish on the young man's face—the desperation frozen in his eyes, the slight parting of his lips as if he still had words left unspoken. The faint glimmer in his pupils flickered, then faded. Life had abandoned him, leaving only a hollow shell behind.

Wuying called out to Xuefeng, her voice taut with concern, but he barely heard her. The weight of the storage bracelet in his palm felt heavier than it should have, its surface burning against his skin as though it carried the sorrow of the dead. He clenched his fist around it, his breath unsteady.

The final body collapsed to the cavern floor with a sickening thud, and for the first time since the massacre began, the Nightmare stopped. She turned toward them, sensing the last remaining threats to her domain. Bits of flesh clung to her mandibles, dripping in slow, crimson strands. The stale air reeked of blood and rot, yet the monstrous spider cared nothing for the carnage around her.

Her massive form twitched, her golden-tinged eyes narrowing as she locked onto Xuefeng's group. And then, with terrifying speed, she lunged toward the passage, her blade-like legs slicing through the webbed air.

"You want some more, do you?" Xiao Wen's voice cut through the suffocating silence, sharp and unwavering. She stepped forward, unafraid, fire licking at her knuckles. The cavern's shadows twisted and danced in response to the searing heat radiating from her body. The smell of burning air filled Xuefeng's lungs.

"Then I'll fill you up until you burst!" she snarled.

She moved like lightning, a blur of motion too fast to track. Before the Nightmare could react, Xiao Wen's flaming fist collided with the spider's armored carapace in a detonation of sizzling heat. The explosion of force sent shockwaves rippling through the cavern, cracking the ground beneath them.

The Nightmare shrieked as she was hurled backward, her enormous body slamming into the stone wall with bone-rattling force. Stalactites shattered from the impact, tumbling down in jagged pieces, sending a cloud of dust billowing into the air. The vibrations echoed through the underground chamber, shaking loose smaller debris from above.

"It's our turn now!" Xiao Wen barked, already launching herself into the air again, flames trailing behind her like a shooting star.

Wuying's hand found Xuefeng's, fingers tightening around his in a firm grip. "Come on." Her voice was steady, but there was something beneath it—a quiet tremor, the lingering ghost of emotion. She knew he'd been shaken by the young man's plea.

Xuefeng swallowed hard. His throat felt dry, his mind a battlefield of emotions. He slowly knelt, placing the fallen man's body gently on the cavern floor. The bracelet, however, remained in his grasp.

A single name echoed in his mind: Hao Ai.

A wife left behind. An unborn child waiting. A family that would never be whole again.

Guilt gnawed at him, an insidious thing creeping up his spine. But what choice had he had? In this world, mercy was often a fatal mistake.

His grip on the bracelet tightened before he slipped it into his storage ring. At the very least… I will make sure his story doesn't end in silence.

"I'll remember," he murmured under his breath, voice almost lost to the cavern's darkness.

Then, without another word, he let Wuying pull him forward—into the blood-soaked gloom, where Xiao Wen's relentless onslaught raged. The Nightmare shrieked again, her golden aura flaring as she absorbed another devastating impact. But this time, she wasn't just facing Xiao Wen.

Xuefeng's fingers curled around his sword. Black flames ignited along the blade's edge, the heat licking at his skin. His hesitation burned away, replaced with something cold and sharp.

This abomination wouldn't survive—not after everything that had happened here.

Not after all the lives she had stolen.

And not after Hao Ai's name had been etched into his memory forever.