Chapter 42: He Is Mine

The charging sword light abruptly halted.

The dark figure instantly shifted sideways, placing itself between Shen Mo and Chao’er, shielding them both.

Three black shadows suddenly solidified, revealing humanoid forms—all withered, with bluish-black skin, stiff joints, and wreathed in ominous black qi.

One wore the robes of an Elder, one was a burly body cultivator, and one was a female corpse in palace attire.

Within their hollow eye sockets, eerie flames of green or purple flickered, fixed unwaveringly on Shen Mo behind them.

‘Undead puppets. Nascent Soul cultivation. Three at the peak.’

Shen Mo’s heart plummeted.

The scale of this—refining and simultaneously controlling three Nascent Soul-level corpse puppets—how terrifyingly powerful and skilled the mastermind behind this must be!

And the target was clear; this was obviously a premeditated ambush.

He was simultaneously grateful that Lin Jingzhe’s Sword Kinesis had been slightly slower.

With a single vibration of Frostsilence Sword, a blade light refined to its utmost limit, dazzlingly white, tore through the sky, aiming straight for the palace-attired female corpse in the center!

Where the Sword Qi passed, the air froze, emitting cracking sounds.

The puppet’s arm was severed at the elbow, falling to the ground and dissolving into black qi.

Yet, the puppet didn’t even flinch. Black qi surged from the stump, instantly growing a new arm.

Shen Mo’s heart sank to the abyss.

‘It can’t be severed?’

Qin Shuying’s second sword strike had already arrived.

This strike was faster, fiercer, aimed directly at the puppet’s head.

The sword light flashed. That withered head flew high into the air, landing somewhere in the dense fog.

Yet, the puppet still did not fall.

It stood in place. A massive surge of black qi gushed from its neck cavity.

The black qi churned and writhed, condensing above the cavity into a mass, slowly forming the shape of a head once more—

A new head.

The third sword strike was already upon it!

The palace-attired female corpse did not dodge or evade.

It raised its clawed hand with pitch-black nails and fearlessly grabbed at the incoming sword light.

A piercing screech of metal on metal rang out. A shockwave of air exploded.

The female corpse was forced back several steps.

The black qi at its claw-tips scattered slightly, but it had actually, forcefully, blocked the strike!

At the same time, the Elder corpse puppet and the body cultivator corpse puppet, carrying a foul wind and an aura of death, pounced from left and right, closing in for the kill!

The Elder corpse puppet opened its mouth and spewed out a sickly green, corrosive corpse-fire.

The body cultivator corpse puppet swung a fist the size of a millstone, bringing down a force capable of shattering mountains and splitting rocks!

Qin Shuying’s expression remained unchanged. Her figure moved like a phantom.

The sword light divided. In an instant, thousands of cold gleams interwove into a net, shredding most of the incoming corpse-fire and fist force.

The residual shockwaves shattered trees and cracked rocks in the forest below.

Shen Mo stood at the tail of the sword, watching as the three masses of black qi and a single frost-white sword light tangled together.

The sword light was sharp. Each strike could cleave a puppet in two. Yet, the moment those puppets were severed, they instantly merged back together and restored themselves.

“They cannot be killed by cutting,” Qin Shuying’s cool voice came through the fierce clash. “We must find the one controlling them.”

The one controlling them—

The palace-attired female corpse was forced back by a sword strike. Its pitch-black eyes shifted.

Its form transformed into a drifting, eerie wisp of black smoke, circling around Qin Shuying, and shot straight for Shen Mo!

“Damn it!” Qin Shuying swung her sword, slashing at the black smoke.

Yet, the sword light was like cutting into thick, viscous mud, being worn down layer by layer by the dense death qi and resentful power.

The radiance of Frostsilence Sword surged violently.

An even more brilliant, icy sword rainbow forcibly split through the corpse-fire, but ultimately, it was delayed for a moment!

“Run! Now!” she shouted angrily.

Qin Shuying was being held tightly by the other two puppets. She absolutely could not break free to aid him in such a short time!

Shen Mo did not hesitate.

He scooped Chao’er into his arms, turned, and ran.

Behind him, black qi churned, sword light crisscrossed, and the sounds of battle were deafening.

He didn’t dare look back.

He could only run.

Holding Chao’er, he ran desperately.

Out of the thick fog, into the mountain forest.

Behind him, something was giving chase.

Shen Mo held the girl in his arms tightly.

Simultaneously, he channeled the last dregs of his Spiritual Power into the Ice Soul Jade, activating a thin, shimmering barrier of cold light.

It barely withstood the residual shockwaves of the battle and the pervasive, chilling corpse qi.

Shen Mo didn’t know how long he ran.

His legs had long lost sensation. His lungs burned like a fire was lit inside them. Every breath carried the taste of blood.

But he didn’t dare stop.

In his ears was the howling of the yin wind.

Behind him was the thick, clinging death qi, sticking to him like maggots to bone.

It followed unhurriedly.

Like a cat playing with a mouse.

Ahead, the terrain grew increasingly complex and treacherous, filled with jagged rocks and towering ancient trees.

Shen Mo didn’t recognize the direction. He only knew to head for the roughest, most obstructive places that might hinder his pursuer.

Yet, the palace-attired female corpse behind him ignored the terrain. At times, it turned to smoke and passed through rocks; at times, it skimmed the ground at high speed. The distance between them was constantly shrinking!

The icy killing intent felt like solid needles, pricking painfully into his back.

Finally, his view opened up, only to plunge instantly into despair.

It was a dead-end valley, surrounded by mountains on three sides. The valley floor was a beach covered in black gravel, ending at a sheer cliff face, steep as if cut by a knife, stretching up thousands of feet. The cliff wall was bare, without even a single vine.

Above, clouds and mist swirled, and fierce gales howled—clearly not a path to survival either.

A dead end.

Shen Mo’s heart sank to the abyss.

He stopped. Gently placing Chao’er behind a relatively flat large rock, he turned around to face the palace-attired female corpse that had already chased to the valley entrance, was slowly solidifying its form, and was staring at him with its pitch-black eyes.

He held no sword in his hand, only a few low-grade protective and offensive talismans left over from his past duties managing the peak affairs.

His cultivation was only at Foundation Establishment. Before this corpse puppet, he was as insignificant as an ant.

But he did not retreat.

Behind him was his disciple, whom he regarded as his own daughter.

The person he had promised to protect.

One of the few warm connections in his seven years of lonely solitude.

Even though that warmth was rapidly cooling now.

“Don’t come any closer.”

Shen Mo opened his palm.

The Ice Soul Jade glowed faintly. A thin, cold-light barrier enveloped him and Chao’er behind him.

Under the impact of the dense death qi emanating from the female corpse, the barrier flickered unsteadily, as if it might shatter at any moment.

‘Is this how I die?’

‘Like this, dying here?’

Many images flashed through his mind.

The cold halls of Jiaoyue Peak.

The dense, countless numbers on the account books.

The respectful yet fervent gazes of the disciples.

And… the blurred face of his wife, Su Wan’er, before she entered seclusion.

What finally settled was Qin Shuying’s cool, clear eyes—the eyes that had caught him from behind when he collapsed from exhaustion after healing the Cloud-Soaring Crane.

Lin Jingzhe’s awkwardness, cursing him as a bastard while risking her life to protect him.

Chao’er’s words the night before departure: “When your disciple returns, your disciple will be grown up…”

‘I’m sorry…’

He took one last look behind him at Chao’er, her face ashen, her breath faint. His eyes held deep reluctance and guilt.

‘In the end, I still couldn’t protect you.’

The palace-attired female corpse seemed to have tired of the cat-and-mouse game. Its figure blurred, instantly crossing several dozen yards.

One pitch-black, sharp claw, wreathed in dense death qi, ignored the nearly shattered ice barrier and aimed straight for his heart!

Its speed was such that there was no time to react.

Only the reflection of the ever-nearing shadow of death in his pupils.

‘It’s over.’

Shen Mo closed his eyes, preparing for the final end.

However—

The anticipated, excruciating pain did not arrive.

Time seemed to freeze in that moment.

An extremely soft, extremely cold sigh, as if emanating from the deepest depths of the Nine Netherworld, sounded from behind him.

That was not Chao’er’s voice.

Or rather, not entirely.

That voice carried an ancient, indifferent weariness, as if it had seen through the vicissitudes of countless ages.

And yet, mixed within it was a trace of… a twisted delight at finally no longer needing to pretend.

Immediately after, an indescribable, overwhelming, bone-chillingly cold force, carrying the ultimate essence of destruction and corruption, erupted like a volcano dormant for ten thousand years!

Centered on the valley, it swept out with terrifying might!

“Who gave you permission—”

“to touch what is mine?”