The zither note that Zhu Ye had heard was naturally not an illusion.
Although the zither note came from the distant mountain range and was rather ethereal, it possessed an objective truth that could not be denied.
It was cold, clear, and fine, like hair, like a blade, so sharp.
The cold wind over the mountain range was severed, the dim light of the distant lanterns of Gaoyang Village was also severed, and the most stubborn snow lotus in the snow was also severed.
Several cracks appeared on Zhu Ye's shoes and then sank deep into them, breaking through his skin, flesh, and white bone.
His feet were severed at the ankles. Carried by the remaining inertia, he flew toward the gap in the mountain range. He landed somewhere unknown, leaving behind two streams of blood in the darkness.
Zhu Ye could no longer cross the mountain range and enter the human world. He fell into the snow, gasping for breath, his body heaving up and down.
This fall had been very heavy, and a broken leg was an extremely serious injury. However, the reason he lay on the ground, motionless, was not because of this, but because of despair.
The zither note had drifted over from ten-some li away. It was so faint, yet it had easily severed his legs.
The identity of the middle-aged scholar was already on the verge of being revealed.
He buried his face in the snow and let out a muffled howl of pain. He was like a wounded beast that had no courage to counterattack, only endless regret.
The sounds of fighting and screams could be heard from the distant mountain range. It was probably Nanke casually harvesting the lives of those people on the mountain path.
The sounds of fighting suddenly vanished and the screams gradually grew softer until everything fell silent.
Zhu Ye also fell silent. With some difficulty, he turned around and gazed at the starry sky that was so close to the snowy peaks that it was particularly clear. He sighed.
If he had not been greedy for the Cinnabar Pill, given his status, how could he have come to such a remote mountain range, how could he have encountered such a terrifying enemy?
Just how many people had already died because of greed? How many more would it kill?
The ice and snow were crushed like withered leaves in autumn, giving off a crisp and pleasant sound.
Zhu Ye's body and mind relaxed with this sound, but his eyes gradually brightened.
Nanke walked in front of him, her wings gently flapping behind her, bringing with them a chilly breeze.
The Southern Cross Sword had already been separated and was gripped by her two hands. The blade was still dripping with blood, probably from Ning Shiwei and those people.
Zhu Ye calmly gazed at her, his two hands gripping the most precious magical artifacts of the Emotion-Severing Sect.
Nanke attacked.
Zhu Ye attacked.
On the snow-capped peak illuminated by the starlight, a dull and violent collision sound rang out.
More than a dozen bulges appeared on the thick snow slope, as if some kind of monster was about to drill its way out.
The accumulated snow was lifted up and danced wildly in the air, blocking the starlight and making the surroundings seem especially gloomy. Only the occasional sword light would illuminate a corner of the place.
Indistinctly, the sound of a zither could be heard.
The world suddenly became quiet, and the wind and snow gradually subsided. Only the snow on the mountain slopes continued to slide down, making a rustling sound.
At the highest point of the mountain range, Nanke's sword stabbed into Zhu Ye's abdomen.
Zhu Ye did not lower his head, nor did he look at her. Instead, he was looking at a certain place in the distance.
The sword in his body was really cold, but the ethereal and almost unreal zither music was even colder.
The cold reminded him of the story his uncle had told him.
In that story, there was a demon city in the north of the snowy plains. That demon city was always shrouded in darkness.
Just like the darkness that was gradually occupying his eyes.
…
…
Nanke carried Zhu Ye's corpse back to the mountain path.
The mountain path was covered in blood and frost, and several hundred corpses were scattered to the sides.
The middle-aged scholar was not playing the zither, but eating something. At his feet was half a corpse. From the shoes and the remaining armor, it was probably Ning Shiwei's.
Nanke handed Zhu Ye's corpse to the middle-aged scholar.
The middle-aged scholar used his two hands to hold Zhu Ye, lowered his head, and began to eat.
It was like the sound of a cat eating leftovers, like the sound of gravel falling into the mud.
Blood constantly dripped from his fingers.
It didn't take long before Zhu Ye's corpse vanished, leaving nothing behind.
The wind ruffled the middle-aged scholar's clothes, revealing the slight bulge in his abdomen.
He closed his eyes and remained quiet for a very long time. He seemed to be savoring the aftertaste, and also seemed to be thinking about something.
"As expected of Zhu Luo's nephew. Although his cultivation is lacking, he still has some essence of the moon. He can be considered a small supplement, much stronger than this general."
The middle-aged scholar opened his eyes and looked at Ning Shiwei's ruined body at his feet, a hint of disdain on his face.
He took a snow-white handkerchief from his sleeve and slowly wiped the blood from the corner of his lips. His movements were very graceful, and then he walked up the mountain path into the darkness.
Nanke's expression did not change in the slightest as she watched this bloody and terrifying scene. She followed him forward.
With the clear sound of the zither, they arrived at the snowy valley ten-some li away.
Those demon experts who had surrounded Chen Changsheng were covered in sword wounds, their right hands crippled, but they were not dead.
When they saw the middle-aged scholar and Nanke, it was like they had seen real ghosts, their faces abnormally pale.
Nanke glanced at them and said, "Die."
Several streaks of green blood burst out, and the few figures that were like buildings fell heavily into the snow.
Upon hearing Nanke's words, those demon experts unhesitatingly committed suicide!
The garden in the snowy valley had already been reduced to ruins, the misty spring lake had already dried up into a large pit, and the wooden bridge had been broken into several dozen pieces, like a snake that had been coiled for centuries. The pavilion had long since disappeared, the frozen beads of ice filling the air with a rather loathsome sight.
Chen Changsheng and Zhizhi stood on the opposite side of the lake. An Hua had rescued the general from the ruins, and the two were nervously standing guard in front of the stretcher.
Hai Di stood in the lake, his hand gripping that weapon that looked like a broken monolith. He seemed to be the center of this world.
But in his eyes, whether it was this world or the vast real world, the center would always be the middle-aged scholar who had just arrived.
Nanke ignored him and said to Chen Changsheng, "I helped you resolve many problems. You owe me a favor."
Zhizhi did not recognize her, but from the tone she used to speak to Chen Changsheng, she seemed to recognize her. After examining her for a few moments, she suddenly came to her senses, a boundless wariness surging from her eyes.
"You are that Peacock?"
Nanke's expression was somewhat dazed as she asked, "You recognize me?"
"Chen Changsheng mentioned you."
Zhizhi raised three fingers and placed them between her eyes. "He said that the space between your eyes was too wide, that there was clearly something wrong with you."
Nanke thought about it, unsure whether she should get angry or not. Her gaze returned to Chen Changsheng.
Chen Changsheng did not look at her. His gaze had always been fixed on the middle-aged scholar.
Before this middle-aged scholar had even appeared, he had already attracted all of Hai Di's attention, even making Hai Di feel boundless fear.
In the entire world, there could not be more than five people that could make Hai Di so afraid.
Coincidentally, he had once met this middle-aged scholar, so he knew who he was.
That meeting had been in Mount Han.
Tonight, it was still in Mount Han.
Even though the two places were separated by a thousand li.
It truly was a very coincidental, truly not good.
He sighed.
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