The Unseen Foe and the Gathering Storm
After Zhou Chun's narrow from Mao Tai's
Yet the tempest of vengeance was far from over.
A Brother in Shadows
Mao Tai stood amidst the splintered trees, his chest heaving as he scanned the dimming horizon. The humiliation of Zhou Chun's rescue gnawed at him like a festering wound.
Just as he prepared to retreat, a crimson light flared before him, coalescing into a human silhouette.
Assuming it was Zhou Chun returning to gloat, Mao Tai raised his blade—
"Hold, brother! It's me!"
The voice halted him mid-strike.
Mao Tai squinted through the haze, recognizing the sharp features and haughty stance of Qin Lang, the"Sky-Soaring Yecha"—his sworn brother and fellow disciple of the Five Venoms Sect.
Relief washed over Mao Tai's face as he clasped Qin Lang's forearm in a warrior's greeting.
"What ill wind blows you here?" Qin Lang asked, his voice dripping with mock curiosity.
Mao Tai recounted his vendetta:
His words crackled with fury, each syllable sharp as a dagger.
Qin Lang stroked his oiled beard, nodding.
"I glimpsed the duel of emerald and gold blades from afar. Had I known it was you, I'd have joined the fray sooner—though it seems the cowards fled like startled hares."
A disciple of the Flaming Patriarch of Mount Hua, Qin Lang wielded the infamous
Though he had once studied under
This is a pair of evil brothers!
"Were it not for my mission to gather Ghostface Mushrooms in Yunnan's western peaks,"
Qin Lang boasted, his chest puffed like a preening peacock,
"I'd have skewered that green-sworded meddler and fed his entrails to crows!"
A mocking voice sliced through the air:
"Qin Lang, spare us your drivel! Even a blind beggar knows your master's name is the only reason you still draw breath!"
Qin Lang's face flushed crimson, veins bulging at his temples.
"Who dares insult the Flaming Patriarch's disciple? Show yourself, worm!"
Smack!
An invisible force struck his left cheek, sending him staggering. Sparks danced before his eyes as he clutched his face, humiliated before Mao Tai.
"Sneaking in shadows is the act of a coward!"
he bellowed, sword slashing wildly at empty air.
"Face me like a true warrior!"
The voice chuckled, echoing from all directions.
"If decades of cultivation haven't sharpened your eyes, perhaps your master's teachings are as hollow as your boasts."
Qin Lang seethed but feigned calm. "If you're so mighty, reveal yourself! Or are you as ugly as your tongue?"
"Patience, little viper. Your eyes aren't worthy of my true form."
Enraged, Qin Lang lunged toward the voice's source, his sword erupting in five crimson tendrils—the Red Spider Sword's signature attack.
The forest ignited in a hellish glow, trees splintering and leaves curling to ash.
Yet when the smoke cleared, the attacker remained unharmed, his laughter ringing louder.
"The fool must've fled," Mao Tai muttered, sheathing his
Smack!
An unseen hand struck Mao Tai's face, snapping his head sideways.
Mao's eyes widened and he was full of resentment.
Both men unleashed their swords—crimson and golden beams crisscrossing the woods—but their blades found only shadows.
The voice taunted:
"Is this the famed Five Venoms swordsmanship? I've seen children spar with more skill! Release all your blades—let's see if any can graze my sleeve!"
The unseen foe toyed with them mercilessly:
pinching arms, tugging ears, each touch leaving bruises.
When Qin Lang's robes were torn to shreds, revealing a serpent tattoo coiled around his ribs, Mao Tai hissed,
"This is no mortal. Retreat—now!"
Shamefaced, the duo cloaked themselves in swirling sword-light and fled to
Ciyun Temple: Sanctuary or Snake Pit?
Panting, Mao Tai and Qin Lang staggered through the temple gates, where
"Abbot," Mao Tai gasped, "we were ambushed by a phantom!"
Zhitong listened impassively as Mao Tai recounted their humiliation. Stroking his prayer beads, the abbot finally spoke:
"The green swordsman was likely an
He trailed off, his gaze distant.
"Out with it!" Mao Tai snapped, slamming a fist on the altar.
Zhitong's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Even your masters—Golden-Armed Fa Yuan and the Flaming Patriarch—would tremble before him.
"Fifty years ago, a wanderer known as Chasing Cloud Elder emerged. He humiliated the Flaming Patriarch himself last year, leaving him bedridden for months."
Before Mao Tai could retort, a novice burst into the hall: "Abbot,they have arrived!"
The temple doors groaned open, revealing a procession of figures—each more notorious than the last:
Sky-Soaring Centipede: A bandit whose raids left villages smoldering.
Treasure-Hoarding Daoist Jin Guangding: A sorcerer who trapped spirits in cursed talismans.
One-Horned Viper Ma Xiong: A pirate who painted rivers red with merchant blood.
Water-Splitting Rhino Lu Hu: A mercenary crushing dissenters beneath his iron mace.
Silver Sea Dragon Bai Xu: A smuggler ruling coastal ports through terror.
Zhitong welcomed them with a bow, his pious facade crumbling to reveal a viper's grin.
Among the crowd stood the bull-necked horsemen Zhou Chun has seen it today prior—their leader, a brute with a jagged scar splitting his cheek, smirked as he cracked his knuckles.
An evil aura instantly spread through the sacred temple.
What dark alliance festered within these hallowed walls?