The remaining guards stood no chance. Their throats were slit in short order.
This was Shitou’s first time killing, yet his heart held nothing but indignation; he felt no other discomfort.
Those who insulted the god deserved no mercy.
A violent coughing fit erupted from nearby, sounding as if the person were trying to hack up their very lungs.
Jian Huaishuang, collapsed on the ground, was coughing intensely due to the severity of his injuries and his emotional state. His body trembled violently, and the wide bamboo hat that had always concealed his features finally shook loose, rolling away.
In an instant, the villagers who had been surrounding the corpses and cursing fell into a dead silence.
Every eye instinctively turned toward Jian Huaishuang.
The gloomy sunlight of the Dead Man’s Forest filtered through the sparse canopy, clearly illuminating the head he had always kept hidden beneath his hat.
The top of his head was missing half of its skull!
Pulsating brain tissue was exposed to the open air without any protection, even revealing fine blood vessels and incomprehensibly complex, intricate patterns!
This horrifying sight struck everyone’s visual nerves like a physical blow.
Jian Huaishuang himself seemed entirely unaware of the shock he caused. He merely wiped the blood constantly leaking from his lips with the back of his hand, his hollow eyes staring at the sky as he pulled his heavy sword closer to his chest.
The question that had been lingering in his heart was finally answered with absolute clarity amidst the agonizing pain in his chest.
'Do I regret it?'
'I do.'
Jian Huaishuang gasped for air for a while before struggling to push himself up. He bowed deeply and respectfully to the worried villagers, his movements meticulous.
He did not speak. All his gratitude and complex emotions were poured into that single bow.
He silently retrieved his fallen hat, carefully brushed off the dust, and gently placed it back on his head.
Using his heavy sword as a crutch, Jian Huaishuang’s lonely figure limped toward the exit of the Dead Man’s Forest.
Wang Wei had been right. He was the chief disciple of the Sword Sect. With the Immortal Celebration Day approaching, he had no reason to wander outside.
Widow Li felt a pang of pity and wanted to step forward to stop him, but Hong Ling gently pulled her back.
"Let him go, Auntie Li," Hong Ling said softly, her gaze deep. "This is the god’s will. He has his own mission to fulfill."
Widow Li opened her mouth but ultimately let out a heavy sigh. She turned and quickly packed some dried meat and medicinal herbs, running after him and shoving them into Jian Huaishuang’s hands before he could refuse.
"Take these! Eat them on the road! And your injury... take care of yourself!" She spoke rapidly, then turned her head away, unable to look at him further.
Jian Huaishuang’s hands trembled as he held the bundle, which still retained the warmth of her body. He finally whispered, "...Thank you."
From the shadows, Chen Zhou gave an order to the Plague Rat. "Take Shitou’s blood-vein wood plaque. Come, we’re following him."
The Plague Rat tilted its head. "Following him? What’s the point of watching him in such a pathetic state?"
Chen Zhou glanced at the corpses of Wang Wei and the others, a slight curve appearing at the corner of his mouth.
"White Jade City sent us such a 'grand gift' here in the Dead Man’s Forest. It would be rude not to return the favor, wouldn't it? Besides, I want to see what kind of scheme White Jade City and the Sword Sect are cooking up."
"Looking for trouble? Good, good! Lord Rat loves making trouble!"
The Plague Rat’s body flickered. Amidst a flow of black light, it transformed into a human figure clad in a tight-fitting black stealth suit.
Its face was covered by a strange half-mask that looked like flowing black mist, hiding the upper half of its face and leaving only its signature eyes shimmering with a dangerous red light.
"You can take human form?" Chen Zhou was somewhat surprised.
The Plague Rat gave him a disdainful look. "Rubbish! Second-stage fiends can speak the human tongue, third-stage can freely change their size, and fourth-stage can take human form! Lord Rat is a fifth-stage fiend! Do you understand?"
"Then why didn't I see you turn into a human before?"
"Why would I? Human cultivators have transformation techniques, too, but you don't see them turning into rats and scurrying around all day, do you?" the Plague Rat argued righteously.
Chen Zhou was momentarily speechless, finding the Plague Rat’s logic surprisingly sound.
Without further words, the two trailed far behind Jian Huaishuang.
Jian Huaishuang moved extremely slowly, stopping frequently, and remained unaware of his pursuers.
As they neared the borders of White Jade City, Chen Zhou noticed that the number of refugees gathered outside the city had drastically decreased compared to when Shitou and Hong Ling had visited.
The crowd was sparse. A few refugees lay on straw mats, occasionally lifting their heads to scan the area as if they were waiting for something.
Right at the city gates, Jian Huaishuang was intercepted once again by the three Sword Sect disciples. They had clearly been waiting for a long time, their grey, lifeless faces filled with unconcealed malice.
One of them stepped forward and shoved Jian Huaishuang hard.
Still recovering from his injuries, Jian Huaishuang was caught off guard and staggered back, nearly falling. He only managed to stay upright by leaning on his heavy sword.
"Useless trash!" Seeing him so pathetic, the disciple grew even more arrogant, his spit nearly landing on Jian Huaishuang’s face.
"The Immortal Celebration Day is right around the corner, and everyone in the sect is busy as can be. And yet here you are, playing truant? Because of your negligence, we were severely punished by the master and forced to kneel in the ancestral hall all night!"
The more he spoke, the angrier he became, and he kicked Jian Huaishuang in the shin.
Jian Huaishuang let out a muffled groan, his body swaying violently as cold sweat instantly beaded on his forehead. Yet he kept his lips pressed thin and clutched his sword, neither resisting nor making a sound.
It was a near-numb state of endurance, as if he had long since grown accustomed to such treatment.
"What are you still doing, clutching that broken piece of junk? Does someone like you even deserve to use a sword?" The lead disciple sneered and reached out, attempting to snatch the heavy sword from his arms.
"To save a few ants of mortals, you used that forbidden technique. And the result? Your cultivation is crippled, and you’ve become this freakish mess. Aren't you the biggest joke in the history of our Sword Sect!"
In the shadows, Chen Zhou said to the Plague Rat, "Go. Give him a hand."
The Plague Rat was stunned. "Give him a hand? What benefit is there for you? In this Great Desolation, strength is everything. He threw his own strength away; he’s a fool! Why pity him?"
Chen Zhou smiled. "There’s no benefit."
"Then why send Lord Rat?!"
"I don't pity him."
Chen Zhou watched the figure who, despite being shoved around, still held his sword tightly in silent endurance. He let out a sigh.
"I admit I couldn't do what he did. I am an opportunist. But I respect true martyrs. Kindness comes with a price—that was his choice, and he must bear the consequences."
He paused, pulling out a small medicine bottle. "Go. Give him these two pills as well. Strength is everything, and right now, I have the power to help, don't I? I simply hope that, no matter what, martyrs never have to regret the choices they made."
The Plague Rat stared at Chen Zhou for a long while, the light in its crimson eyes flickering as if trying to read the evil spirit’s mind.
Finally, it grumbled a single sentence: "What a strange evil spirit you are. Truly strange."
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