Chapter 14: Suicide

The echoes of Jiang Zhiwei’s and Qi Xia’s screams were still lingering when a figure suddenly darted in from above the stone wall. Dressed in black with disheveled white hair, he resembled a vengeful ghost. His hands and feet gripped the cracks in the stone wall like a nimble monkey, quickly climbing upward until he reached Qi Xia’s head. He struck downward in a posture resembling an eagle swooping down to seize a rabbit.

This figure had entered from the exact opposite direction from which the severed head had flown!

Qi Xia had undergone numerous ambush and assassination “training exercises” within the Jianghu, and was thus naturally cautious in such situations. She understood that if something unknown were thrown in, one should first hold their breath to avoid poison, and second, remain alert in all directions to prevent a feint.

Therefore, although she had been momentarily shocked by Qingjing’s death and screamed, missing the best opportunity to defend herself, she quickly regained her composure, pushed off with her feet, and dodged the critical area above her head.

With a sharp *zi*, an iron-gloved hand plunged deep into her left shoulder. Before the cyan-glowing Fen Shui Ci could strike, the “White-Haired Ghost” swiftly flipped like a hawk, sending a spray of blood flying, and landed on the opposite side.

As Qi Xia exchanged blows with this “White-haired Ghost,” Jiang Zhiwei also recovered her senses and whispered, “Left two.”

Meng Qi immediately took two steps to the left. Then, sword light like flowing water swept toward the “White-haired Ghost.”

Just as this happened, from the direction the severed head had flown in, a gray-cloaked figure burst in. His long blade reflected the torchlight on the stone wall, casting a dim, yellowish glow. His target was Jiang Zhiwei, who was currently vulnerable.

It was a double feint!

The long blade slashed downward, aiming at Jiang Zhiwei’s left shoulder—and Meng Qi’s head.

The sword light “spraying” toward the “White-haired Ghost” suddenly vanished. Jiang Zhiwei’s sword had somehow already turned around. Without even glancing behind, she thrust diagonally upward behind her, and the gray-cloaked figure seemed to be rushing headlong into the blade’s tip.

She had been baiting him!

The gray-cloaked figure twisted his body mid-air, extending his left palm to block the blade.

*Puu!* The sword pierced through his palm, but he used the momentum to propel himself sideways, narrowly avoiding the blade.

“Back two,” Jiang Zhiwei said into Meng Qi’s ear. Her voice was fast, yet clear and crisp, like pearls falling onto a jade plate.

Faced with a battle of this intensity, Meng Qi’s meager combat experience was utterly useless. He could only keep telling himself to trust the “expert,” to trust Jiang Zhiwei.

After stepping back twice, Meng Qi, thanks to his practice of the Luohan Fist, managed to maintain his balance. The gray-cloaked figure, upon landing, swung his blade sideways at Jiang Zhiwei, but she blocked it just in time. The clash of sword and blade rang out with a crisp *ding*.

At this moment, Ge Chongshan and others who had been scouting outside heard the commotion and rushed back.

Seeing this, the “White-haired Ghost” and the gray-cloaked figure suddenly intensified their attacks. Although Jiang Zhiwei had Meng Qi as her “legs,” Meng Qi himself had only just completed the “Hundred Days Foundation” training. He had never learned any lightness techniques, so his movements were relatively slow. Moreover, Jiang Zhiwei’s verbal instructions were limited, making complex coordination impossible. Thus, she could only focus on defense, minimizing movement except for essential steps. As a result, both she and Qi Xia, whose left shoulder had been severely wounded, were forced into a purely defensive position.

As Meng Qi moved according to Jiang Zhiwei’s instructions, he felt the sharp pressure of the gray-cloaked figure’s blade technique. His heart turned cold with fear. Instinctively, he thought, compared to this man’s swordplay, his earlier fight with Cheng Yong had been like child’s play!

After a fierce assault, the “White-haired Ghost” and the gray-cloaked figure suddenly leapt backward, breaking away from the melee. Taking advantage of the distance from Ge Chongshan’s group, they dashed toward an unoccupied corridor.

They were using their offensive to buy an escape!

Qi Xia and Jiang Zhiwei, under pressure and fully on the defensive, could not immediately give chase. They could only watch helplessly as the two figures darted toward the exit.

Suddenly, a long sword shot out from outside the corridor, as nimble as a snake, forcing the “White-haired Ghost” and the gray-cloaked figure to retreat hastily to avoid its edge.

“Senior Brother Zhang!” Qi Xia recognized the swordsman as Zhang Yuanshan, his face filled with sorrow.

Without hesitation, Jiang Zhiwei commanded, “Forward five.”

Meng Qi strode forward, cutting off the escape route of the “White-haired Ghost” and the gray-cloaked figure. Jiang Zhiwei’s sword flashed, enclosing the gray-cloaked figure in a dome of light.

Zhang Yuanshan, though grief-stricken, had not lost his composure. His sword traced one circle after another, firmly entangling the “White-haired Ghost.” Occasionally, his blade darted like a viper, forcing the “White-haired Ghost” into a flustered defense.

The Azure Light Fen Shui Ci reappeared, and Qi Xia teamed up with Jiang Zhiwei, cutting off the escape route of the gray-robed figure.

“Ma Xiong! Tan Xiong!” Ge Chongshan entered the stone chamber and immediately recognized the “White-haired Ghost” and the gray-cloaked figure. They were none other than Ma Lianghan and Tan Wenbo, two renowned martial artists who had previously been trapped.

Their faces bore a greenish hue, and their eyes glowed with a faint blue light. They did not speak, instead desperately searching for an opening in Jiang Zhiwei, Zhang Yuanshan, and others to escape.

“Ai,” Ge Chongshan sighed heavily and joined the battle alongside other experts.

The tide of battle quickly turned. Within ten breaths, Tan Wenbo, the “White-haired Ghost,” was pierced by multiple swords and died on the spot. Ma Lianghan, wounded by blade and sword, was struck by Ge Chongshan’s iron fan, temporarily incapacitated. Ge Chongshan then sealed several of his vital points, subduing him.

“Who are these two?” Ge Chongshan asked Zhang Yuanshan and Qi Zhengyan, who had joined the fight later.

Jiang Zhiwei sighed. “They are both juniors from our sect, and the one on the ground is as well.”

Since she had already mentioned Su Ming, there was no need to bring up other masters, lest Ge Chongshan grow suspicious. It was normal for an obscure expert to be unknown to others; coincidences happened. But if multiple people were unknown, it would seem strange.

“Senior Brother Zhang, you…” Qi Xia’s previous address dispelled Ge Chongshan’s suspicions about the different sword techniques. Perhaps that “Senior” Su Ming was a legendary sword sage who mastered many sword arts and martial techniques, teaching his disciples according to their aptitudes.

Zhang Yuanshan’s face was filled with sorrow as he said, “Brother Qingjing, Brother Zhengyan, and I first rescued Tan Wenbo. Everything was normal. Then we immediately rushed to save Ma Lianghan. But just as we opened the final stone door, Tan Wenbo suddenly attacked from behind, killing Brother Qingjing. I was held back by Ma Lianghan, who lunged at me, and couldn’t turn back to help.”

“Brother Qingjing, in his dying moments, managed to strike back and wound Tan Wenbo. With Brother Zhengyan’s desperate efforts, we drove them off and pursued them. But we never expected they would lead us in circles and return to the original chamber, severing Brother Qingjing’s head!”

Although he still referred to them as “Masters,” his tone was filled with grief.

Meng Qi did not feel any schadenfreude over Qingjing’s death, despite how Qingjing had once tripped him and tested Jiang Zhiwei’s swordplay, repeatedly targeting him. Instead, he felt a pang of sorrow. Qingjing was dead—so who would be next? Would it be him?

This feeling reached its peak when he saw Zhang Yuanshan, who was usually calm and composed, showing rare signs of unease, frustration, and grief. Two companions had already died before even reaching the Hidden Emperor Fortress. What kind of carnage awaited them in the final battle?

After listening silently to Zhang Yuanshan’s account, Ge Chongshan and the others also recalled their friend who had previously died at the hands of Ding Changsheng. Their faces all wore the same expression of sorrow.

“Junior Zhang, do not grieve too much. Qingjing was a martyr for justice in the martial world. We will remember him. Heaven and earth will surely bear witness and bring justice! Please, all of you, compose yourselves and come with us to the central hall to reunite with your master,” Ge Chongshan said with a tone of sympathy.

“Yes, let’s not delay. Senior martial uncles, we’ll set off now,” Zhang Yuanshan suppressed his grief and regained his calm and determination, appearing more mature in a short time.

Ge Chongshan nodded. “Good. Brother Zhang, Brothers Zhao, please stay here and guard Ma Xiong. We will return with the antidote.”

At a time like this, they could not possibly bring Ma Lianghan along. If someone were to release his pressure points, he would become a formidable enemy.

“Brother Ge, the great villain is plotting something in the central hall. We can still be of help. We must not be careless now!” a Zhao-named expert urged anxiously.

Ge Chongshan sighed. “I understand. The more hands, the better our chances of success. But can we just leave Ma Xiong here? Perhaps the Black Robe people will come to rescue him.”

After being wounded, Ma Lianghan’s greenish complexion had somewhat faded, and the effects of the drug seemed to have eased slightly. He cried out painfully, “Chongshan, kill me! Kill me!”

Ge Chongshan had only sealed his inner energy, not his ability to move or speak.

“He seems even less able to resist the drug than Cheng Yong…” Jiang Zhiwei whispered softly to Meng Qi, leaning on his back.

“Perhaps the longer it lasts, the harder it becomes to resist its effects,” Meng Qi speculated.

Ge Chongshan’s right hand, gripping the iron fan, trembled slightly. “How could I do that! How could I!”

During battle, killing him would bring only guilt, not hesitation. But now, having subdued him, personally executing his close friend would be a torment to his soul.

Ma Lianghan took a breath and struggled to speak, “I… I can’t go on! After taking that cursed thing, I’m living worse than death! Chongshan, kill me! That’s the only way to save me!”

Suddenly, he seemed to gather a bit of strength, leapt up, and slammed his throat onto the sword of a nearby expert.

Caught off guard, the expert thought he was being attacked and thrust his blade forward, piercing Ma Lianghan’s throat.

Ma Lianghan slowly collapsed, a faint smile on his face.

“Ma Xiong!” Ge Chongshan shouted in shock and sorrow.

At that moment, Meng Qi and Jiang Zhiwei noticed the firelight on the opposite stone wall flickering like ghostly shadows, forming three lines of text:

“Jiang Zhiwei, Zhang Yuanshan, Qi Xia, Qi Zhengyan, and Zhen Ding have saved Tan Wenbo from the torment of the Duoxin Pill. Sub-quest completed. Each rewarded with ten Virtue Points.”

“Jiang Zhiwei, Zhang Yuanshan, Qi Xia, Qi Zhengyan, and Zhen Ding have saved Ma Lianghan from the torment of the Duoxin Pill. Sub-quest completed. Each rewarded with ten Virtue Points.”

“All sub-quests completed.”

Meng Qi and the others remained silent, their moods not improving in the slightest—even though Ma Lianghan’s salvation was now credited to them.