Jianghu Demolition Squad

The Child Returns Home (Part Four)

Wu Chang and Lingyun had many people under their command, with six out of every ten being walking corpses. Without even engaging in battle, the Beggar’s Sect and the Jile City found themselves at a disadvantage.

Wu Yu spoke, “Tch, fools, all brawn and no brains!”

By then, it was too late for a strategic retreat.

She took a sword from one of her subordinates. In the crowded and chaotic forest where friend and foe mixed, the long whip was impractical, making the sword a better choice.

Unlike Yi Song, who charged into battle with reckless abandon, Wu Yu remained calm and collected, circling protectively around Yan Li. When an enemy attacked, she parried their blows with a lazy grace.

Yan Li’s fighting style was far more direct and efficient. Armed with ‘Si Lu,’ one of the few divine weapons capable of destroying walking corpses, she took on the responsibility of eliminating as many as possible. Her snow-white whisk was stained crimson with their blood.

Yan Li took a quick survey of the situation, noting the equal numbers on both sides. However, the walking corpses were relentless, and the opponents’ masters had strange and superior martial arts skills.

For now, they were holding their own, fueled by a shared rage and a refusal to back down. They wouldn’t let Wu Chang and Lingyun escape, and they certainly wouldn’t be defeated by them.

But willpower alone couldn’t bridge the gap in their skills.

Yan Li found Hua Lian and instructed him, “Go to the valley front and inform my shishu and the others that Wu Chang and Lingyun are here. We need reinforcements.”

“Right away!”

Hua Lian took a deep breath and leapt onto a tree. The tree, standing about four to fifty meters tall, was scaled in a single breath. From the top, he stepped lightly onto a branch, jumping to another tree a distance away, moving as if stepping through clouds.

As dusk fell, and with no one around to match his lightness skills, whether they saw him or not, catching him was out of the question. Thus, Hua Lian passed beyond Wu Chang and Lingyun’s reach, emerging from the forest to proceed toward the valley ahead.

Despite Hua Lian’s successful departure, Yan Li couldn’t relax. She suspected there were more enemies lurking within the Xuhuai Valley. The jianghu heroes gathered at the valley entrance were likely engaged in their own battles. She could only hope they weren’t facing insurmountable odds.

Yan Li dodged a sword thrust and moved back to stand by Xin Chou.

Xin Chou was huddled on the ground, a stark contrast to his previously imposing presence. He cowered from every attack, refusing to fight back.

“Xin Chou, fight back.”

Xin Chou clutched his head, looking up at Yan Li with fear in his eyes. “I don’t dare,” he whimpered, glancing nervously in Lingyun’s direction.

Yan Li understood the source of his fear. “Even if you don’t fight back, he won’t show you any mercy,” she warned. “They’ll kill you. Do you think your body can withstand their swords and spears?”

Xin Chou shook his head. As Yan Li was about to speak again, Xin Chou suddenly looked up at the darkening sky. “It’s snowing.”

Yan Li looked up through the gaps in the trees. Only the faint light allowed her to see the snowflakes falling gently on her forehead, melting from her body heat and sliding down her cheeks.

The winter snow always brought a refreshing change, imbuing a serene and clear state of mind as if the snow could cover all the ugliness.

But that was not the reality.

Lingyun saw the increasing ferocity of the battle and the scent of fresh blood filling the forest, creating an intense killing aura, like a thin mist of blood floating among the trees.

He sneered at Si Yu, who wielded Chuanyun, and Tang Linzhi, who held Chini. “Divine weapons are nothing but scraps of metal in your hands,” he scoffed. “You mortals are wasting their potential. Allow me to demonstrate their true power!”

He twirled Aihong, its blade a deep, ominous red. The reflection in his eyes mirrored the color, transforming them into two points of bloodthirsty light.

Perhaps due to a martial artist’s instinct, but Yi Song, who was closest to him, recoiled in alarm, exclaiming, “What are you doing!”

Lingyun smiled, a handsome face contorted into a demonic mask. “The Aihong Sword,” he declared, his voice laced with chilling amusement, “a single swing commands a thousand troops, ten thousand horses. Where it treads, cries of misery fill the land!”

He channeled his internal energy into the sword, which emitted a faint glow, and the blade hummed ominously.

This sound, to those who heard it, was like fingernails scraping across a zither string, a sharp and eerie noise that made one’s muscles involuntarily tense.

Yan Li felt a strange sensation coursing through her body. She couldn’t quite describe it. A nameless rage ignited within her, her mind clouding, her thoughts scattering. She felt an overwhelming urge to lash out, to destroy everything around her.

Sensing something was wrong, she immediately focused her mind and began to channel the internal energy techniques of the Wuwei Palace.

The Yin-Yang Limitless Dao technique were founded on the principle of harmonizing yin and yang, achieving inner peace and tranquility.

Coupled with her years of cultivating detachment and self-discipline, Yan Li’s mind gradually settled, the unsettling effects receding.

However, the others were not as detached from worldly desires as she was, nor did they possess such advanced techniques for calming the mind and protecting the body with internal energy. Engulfed in the escalating murderous aura of the battle, they could not withstand the torment of the demonic sounds.

One by one, they succumbed. Their eyes turned bloodshot, rage consumed them, rationality crumbled, and their senses distorted, blurring the lines between friend and foe.

They clutched their heads, howling in agony, their eyes losing their clarity, their cries echoing the feral screams of bloodthirsty beasts. Weapons were drawn, attacks launched indiscriminately, driven by a primal urge to kill.

The forest descended into chaos; brothers who had fought side by side now turned on each other, crafting a living portrait of hell.

Yan Li, her mind finally calming, opened her eyes to witness the carnage. The horrifying spectacle froze her in place, her guard slipping in that moment of shock.

A roar, like a thunderclap, erupted behind her, deafening and disorienting.

She felt a crushing pressure against her back, too stunned to react. A voice cried out, “Yan Li!”

A figure lunged forward, pulling her into a protective embrace, whirling her around. She found herself facing upward, the person shielding her with their body.

In that brief moment, she saw Xin Chou towering above them.

His eyes were wide and vacant, his mouth agape, drool dripping from his chin. He bellowed like a crazed beast, swinging his heavy hammer towards them with a force that would pulverize flesh and bone.

She couldn’t see the face of the person who had shielded her, but she felt their arm tightly encircling her waist. It was Wu Yu.

Wu Yu spun, pulling Yan Li down, shielding her from the deadly blow.

Despite her quick reflexes, Wu Yu couldn’t completely avoid the hammer.

Its edge grazed her back, but even that glancing blow carried the force of a direct strike from a martial arts master. A jolt of pain ripped through her, her internal organs rattled, and blood welled up in her throat.

They tumbled down the slope, Wu Yu’s arms still protectively around Yan Li, rolling until they came to a stop in the snow at the bottom.

Wu Yu gasped, pain searing through her chest with every breath. Had the hammer struck her more directly, her organs would have been pulverized.

She had done her best, pushing herself beyond her limits.

The maddening sword melody had tormented her mind, leaving her disoriented. But somehow, she had still recognized Yan Li, her body reacting instinctively to protect her.

She slumped against Yan Li, her body weak and trembling. Yan Li cradled her close, helping her sit up.

In the dim light, Wu Yu met Yan Li’s gaze, her eyes filled with a sorrow that felt like vines creeping through her soul.

She coughed, blood staining her lips. The pain inside felt like her body was being ripped apart. “Ah…” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Only when I’m like this do you look at me with such tenderness, only when I’m broken do you show me compassion…”

Wu Yu’s hand, trembling slightly, reached out to caress Yan Li’s face, her fingers tracing the delicate lines around her eyes.

She knew her internal injuries were severe, perhaps beyond healing. “Yan Li,” she whispered, her voice laced with a heartbreaking vulnerability, “I think I’m dying…”

Yan Li, aware of the blow Wu Yu had sustained, the internal damage it had inflicted, didn’t dare move her. “Don’t talk nonsense,” she said, her voice unusually soft

Wu Yu continued to caress Yan Li’s face, relishing this moment of tenderness, knowing it wouldn’t last. “Yan Li,” she murmured, “I know you’ll never want anything to do with me again…”

Fatigue washed over her, her eyelids growing heavy, but she fought to keep them open. The incessant sword melody grated on her nerves, amplifying the pain that pulsed through her body. “In the next life,” she whispered, clinging to a desperate hope, “in our next life, will you forgive me? Can we start over?”

Yan Li glared at her, her grip on Wu Yu’s wrist tightening, knuckles white, but her touch remained surprisingly gentle.

Silence stretched between them, agonizing in its emptiness. A surge of pride flared within Wu Yu.

So you won’t even grant me that in the next life? What’s so wrong with me? I’m not undesirable.

She wanted to withdraw her request, but the thought of leaving this life without an answer, of carrying that regret across the bridge to the afterlife, was unbearable.

Perhaps in the face of death, even the strongest will falters. Had she been healthy and clear-headed, her pride wouldn’t allow her to ask again. But in this moment, her longing eclipsed her arrogance.

“Can we?” she pleaded, her voice barely a whisper.

Yan Li’s lips parted slightly. After a long silence, she finally choked out a single word: “Alright.”

“City Lord!” A voice, thick with despair, shattered the fragile peace.

Yan Li gently laid Wu Yu down in the snow, taking out her handkerchief to wipe away the blood staining Wu Yu’s chin.

Si Yu rushed towards them. He had witnessed Wu Yu take the brunt of Xin Chou’s attack, his heart filled with regret that he hadn’t been close enough to protect her.

His usually impassive face was contorted with anguish, his composure cracking. “City Lord…”

Yan Li could tell he was still lucid, but his eyes were bloodshot, his expression wild with grief and guilt over his failure to protect Wu Yu. He looked like the others who had succumbed to madness.

“I’ll go find a healer!”

There were many disciples from Xihuai Valley disciples present; surely, someone could help stabilize Wu Yu’s injuries.

But like the others, the disciples had succumbed to the maddening melody, consumed by a bloodlust that rendered them incapable of reason.

Si Yu grabbed two disciples, desperately trying to shake them out of their frenzy, but they remained unresponsive.

“We have to kill Lingyun first!” Yan Li declared, her voice sharp with urgency.

Si Yu’s expression hardened as he glanced towards Lingyun, who stood at the edge of the chaos, reveling in the carnage he had unleashed.

Tang Linzhi came over silently, landing in a crouch like a cat. “Yan Li, are you alright?” She had been terrified seeing Xin Chou swinging his hammer while Yan Li stood nearby.

Yan Li, seeing Tang Linzhi’s clear eyes, realized that the sword melody didn’t seem to affect those wielding the divine weapons. Perhaps it had something to do with the reforging process. Even with Si Lu in her possession, she had barely managed to resist its influence.

“I’m fine,” Yan Li replied, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes cold and sharp. “Linzhi, kill Lingyun.”

Tang Linzhi picked up her weapon, Chini, stood up, and scoffed, “That damned noise is driving me crazy,” she growled. “I’m going to make him pay!”

Si Yu, spear in hand, charged towards Lingyun. He knew that only by silencing the sword melody could they restore sanity to their comrades.

Tang Linzhi instructed, “Be careful…”

Before leaving, she glanced at Wu Yu lying motionless in the snow. She was not well-versed in the ways of the world, but she felt that the relationship between Wu Yu and Yan Li was like a tangled mess of threads, too difficult to explain in words.

Hatred and gratitude intertwined, a bizarre mix of imprisonment and self-sacrifice. It made no sense to her.

Tang Linzhi caught up with Si Yu. In this battlefield, reaching Lingyun was not simple.

According to Tang Linzhi, those supposed allies were not in their right minds; anyone they encountered, armed with a sword, was a threat.

Then there was Xin Chou, bellowing like a bull, swung his heavy hammers indiscriminately, creating whirlwinds that snapped trees and sent people flying. Tang Linzhi and Si Yu were forced to dodge his relentless assault.

While their allies were incapacitated, Lingyun’s side wasn’t faring much better, though most of his forces were comprised of walking corpses.

The walking corpses, lacking any sense of self, were merely puppets under Wu Chang’s control. Thus, even as everyone else descended into madness, the walking corpses could still discern friend from foe, launching attacks on the members of the Beggars’ Sect and Jile City.

Their allies were falling, victims of their own comrades, Xin Chou’s heavy hammers, and the relentless assault of the walking corpses.

In a short span of time, half of the reinforcements at the back of the valley had already suffered casualties.

Tang Linzhi and Si Yu finally broke through the intense encirclement and advanced towards Lingyun.

Lingyun faced them both, the sword melody still ringing in the air. Their initial attacks proved ineffective, fueling their frustration.

They watched in horror as their losses mounted. If they couldn’t break through the maddening influence soon, their entire force would be wiped out.

Desperation fueled their attacks, their movements becoming increasingly frantic and reckless.

Lingyun, ever the cunning strategist, appeared relaxed, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he taunted them with every move.

Their attacks grew more disorganized. Lingyun, protected by the walking corpses, remained unscathed, while both Tang Linzhi and Si Yu sustained injuries.

Tang Linzhi, her Chini held firmly in her grip, gasped for breath, sweat and blood mingling on her cheeks.

Si Yu, his right arm injured, switched his spear to his left hand. “Miss Tang,” he said, his voice strained, “we need a plan. Fighting him head-on is pointless.”

Tang Linzhi responded, “What can we do?”

“The simplest solution is to slit your own throats,” Lingyun chimed in, his voice laced with amusement.

Tang Linzhi retorted angrily, “Go kill yourself, you bastard!”

“Don’t think for a moment that you’re winning,” Lingyun continued, his smile widening. “Are you hoping those fools at the front of the valley will come to your rescue? We knew the heroes of the wulin would converge on Suolong City. We’ve prepared a warm welcome for them. Do you know what awaits your comrades at the front?”

“You’re all going to die, it’s just a matter of time…”

As he spoke these words with a smile, he was cut off by a sudden resonant ‘zheng’ sound from the forest, as if someone had plucked the strings of an ancient zither, sending a clear, melodious sound echoing through the air.

Several more notes followed, pure and harmonious, like jade beads cascading onto a silver platter.

The solitary notes wove together, forming a melody. The music flowed, calming the mind, evoking images of serene mountains, flowing rivers, and the tranquility of sipping tea amidst burning incense.

The unexpected melody washed over the forest like a cleansing spring, dispelling the bloodlust and madness.

The heroes of the wulin awoke from their nightmare.