M49S Vol 1 Chapter 8. One-Zero-Eight

Chen Boyan thought he was hallucinating.

In this secret realm, there should be no one who would address him by his courtesy name. He waited for a while, but no other sound followed. So he began to truly suspect that it was just the rain. He’d been soaked for too long and imagined the voice.

But why would he hallucinate that voice?

Something about those words felt oddly familiar, yet he couldn’t place where he had heard them before.

So when Dai Xiaoshan came chasing out of the building, he saw their senior brother standing in the misty drizzle, sword in hand. His robe of sky-blue gauze swayed with the wind, the rain soaking his temples. A faint look of confusion and loss lingered on his face.

Beasts shrieked outside the mountain, while an immortal-like figure stood serene within.

Once again, Dai Xiaoshan was struck by the elegance of their senior brother. A surge of pride welled up inside him. This was Gushan’s very own Senior Brother. Let others envy or grumble all they want, he was still theirs.

Dai Xiaoshan wanted to accompany Chen Boyan to retrieve their little junior.

After a night’s rest, most of the cultivators had already formed small groups and gone back out to fight the beasts. But the two new disciples from Gushan Sword were still unaccounted for. Mu Guinian had already returned, and Tu Youqiong had just sent a second message, reporting his location. Chen Boyan was now preparing to head there.

Tu Youqiong hadn’t intended to wait this long before sending another message. At first, their group of seven had been trying to move toward the valley and didn’t see the need to report in. But the number of beasts kept increasing, and their luck seemed to run out. They were repeatedly blocked by rampaging beasts, and instead of approaching the valley, they had only gotten farther away from it.

None of them were like Meng Qiqi, that near-mythical figure. Once their qi ran dry, they could no longer ride their flying swords. In the end, forced to desperation, the seven of them doubled back to the cave they had passed earlier and spent the night there.

The lingering scent of slain beasts helped mask their own presence. In the downpour, the increasingly irritable monsters passed by the cave several times but never entered. To avoid exposing their location and drawing in more beasts, Tu Youqiong refrained from sending any further signals.

As for the small mountain of beast corpses piled near the entrance, Tu Youqiong was convinced it was the work of his senior brother. His senior brother was brilliant and unbeatable. Tu Youqiong was certain he had slaughtered all those beasts for the sake of his beloved little junior.

When Zhao Xing of Beidou challenged that claim, Tu Youqiong deliberately dragged one of the corpses into the cave and pointed to the fatal wound on its body to argue his case. That had to be Senior Brother’s handiwork.

Zhao Xing cursed him a lunatic and turned away, lying down on a pile of hay to sleep, refusing to engage further. Tu Youqiong didn’t bother pressing the matter and instead turned his focus to a new topic. Could beast meat be eaten? He certainly had no desire to keep chewing on tough, dry rations.

He stayed up all night pondering it, only to end up with dark circles under his eyes. Still no closer to an answer, he bit into a piece of dry rations, let out a long sigh at the sky, and swung his sword to send a signal saying he was right here, hoping his senior brother would see it.

Meanwhile, Meng Qiqi and his little disciple were searching room by room, but their efforts turned up nothing. The ruined temple was filled with furnishings and ornaments blanketed in dust accumulated over who knew how many years. In the grand hall, faded murals peeled from the walls, and the broken claws of dragons carved into the beams no longer soared.

From the depth of the dust alone, it was clear that no one had set foot here in years.

As Meng Qiqi thought things over, he silently moved on to open the next room. The moment the door creaked open, the stench of decay and dust rushed out. Within that heavy air, he caught the faint scent of ink. His gaze swept left, and just as expected, a neat row of bookshelves came into view.

It was a study. There might be something useful here.

He walked straight toward the shelves and carefully picked up a book. Just as he was about to flip through it, the pages crumbled in his hands. Holding his breath, he froze and dared not move again. Maintaining his position, he quickly scanned the text.

It was a travelogue. The writer had recorded scenic mountains and rivers they had once visited. Nothing remarkable. Meng Qiqi flipped to the end and strained to make out the faded characters.

“Ninety-six years, a dream of yellow millet. I ask from afar, does the home in my dreams still remain?”

It seemed like the simple longing of a traveler. Meng Qiqi set it aside and moved on to another book.

Just then, Xiao Yu’er seemed to have found something and called him over again and again.

Meng Qiqi walked over to the only writing desk in the room and followed Xiao Yu’er’s gaze. There, beneath a white jade paperweight, lay a sheet of paper with two lines written on it.

The first line read, “What exactly did you discover?”

The second line replied, I cannot say. I’ll wait for you at sunset.

Meng Qiqi frowned. The two lines were written in completely different handwriting, clearly a question and an answer. He would recognize the first one anywhere, even if it were reduced to ashes. It belonged to his little Martial Uncle, Zhou Ziheng.

Who had he been speaking to? What had that person discovered? Where were they meeting at sunset? Somewhere else in the secret realm?

The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Finally, he looked away and said, “Keep searching.”

The master and disciple immediately tore through the study from top to bottom. Just as Meng Qiqi reached for the last book, an ancient, resonant bell tone suddenly rang out from beyond the window.

Tong—

In that sound, it was as if he could see a massive wooden beam striking a copper bell. The surface was mottled with rust, and dust spilled down in sheets. Birds scattered from the forest, and beasts across the plains howled in unison.

No, it wasn’t just an echo in his mind. The beasts really were howling.

Meng Qiqi leaned out the window in a flash. Below, hordes of monsters had raised their heads to the sky, letting out deafening cries. A restless pressure rippled out from the heart of the beast horde.

“They’re heading into the valley,” Xiao Yu’er said, his hand instinctively gripping his bow. It was a habit he had formed over the past two years. Whenever danger struck, his first move was always to reach for it.

“This could turn bad. Come with me.” Meng Qiqi shot out without a glance back. Outside the study was a corridor that led upward, straight toward a higher level of the tower.

A bell that loud had to be enormous. But what kind of wind could strike a bell like that? If there was no wind, then someone had done it.

But where was the bell?

Meng Qiqi followed his instincts and sprinted upward. He vaguely recalled a pavilion at the top. Cold rain lashed his face, soaking his half-dry robe once more.

There was no time to waste. Blinking the water from his lashes, he flicked two fingers. The Xiujian at his waist sprang from its sheath and flew toward the pavilion.

Meng Qiqi was fast, but his sword was faster.

Xiujian flashed like silver light, cutting through a wall of swirling grey dust. In the blink of an eye, it reached the pavilion. The figure inside hadn’t moved. Xiujian had no eyes, but that never stopped it. It tore through the space in a wild, chaotic flurry.

That was just Meng Qiqi’s way. Divine or demonic, right or wrong, he struck first and never bothered to ask questions. Madness was his nature. Let anyone try and stop him.

Try to run? Better ask if his sword agrees first.

The bell striker was thrown into disarray. That frenzied assault, reckless and unrestrained, completely upset their rhythm. No one had ever seen swordsmanship like this before. It was pure chaos.

But charging in recklessly had its cost. The attack didn’t land, and the bell-striker had time to break free. As Xiujian was forced back, Meng Qiqi’s figure appeared in their view.

The bell-striker immediately tried to retreat. Xiujian returned to Meng Qiqi’s hand with a hum, and without a second pause, he went in for the kill.

Xiao Yu’er arrived a moment later, panting as he watched the two figures flash through the rain-slick rooftops His eyes swept the area, then he quickly changed course, climbing to the rooftop of a nearby tower. From there, he locked onto the black-clad figure, drew his bow, and took aim.

The bell-striker wore a hood. Even in this tense moment, it never slipped down. Their face remained hidden. Meng Qiqi didn’t want to drag this out. He used A Glimpse of the Soaring Swan to close the distance, but to his surprise, even that wasn’t enough to catch up.

“Xiao Yu’er.” Meng Qiqi called out sharply.

Xiao Yu’er reacted at once. Three arrows flew in a tight arc, cutting off the bell-striker’s escape.

But the bell-striker moved with eerie speed, faster than Meng Qiqi had expected. With a flash, he appeared above the arrows, landed on one midair, and used it as a springboard to strike back at Xiao Yu’er with his sword.

Clang! Meng Qiqi’s ring-hilt sabre met the blow just in time. At the same moment, Xiao Yu’er nimbly slipped down from the rooftop and vanished into the maze of towers.

Meng Qiqi knew his clever disciple would be lying in wait, ready for another shot.

The bell-striker let out a cold snort and forced the sabre aside. They seemed finally provoked, ready to turn around and end it.

Meng Qiqi welcomed it, but didn’t let down his guard. The moment the bell-striker turned, he struck with Lotus Bloom.

His wrist turned sharply, trailing silver petals through the air. The blooming lotus scattered into a spray of flying swords, all surging toward the bell-striker.

By now, Meng Qiqi had already burned through thirty percent of his qi. His gaze locked onto the figure in black like a blade, but his hands didn’t stop. The moment Lotus Bloom launched, he followed with another move, Ten Thousand Swords Return to One, cutting off every possible retreat.

What he didn’t see was the flicker of surprise in the bell-striker’s eyes, hidden deep within the hood’s shadow. A moment later, their lips curved slightly. Just as Lotus Bloom closed in, their robe surged outward. Bursts of qi rippled out, and before the flying swords could even touch the target, they shattered midair.

A chill ran through Meng Qiqi. This person’s cultivation was beyond anything he could gauge. There was no way he could win right now. But he had only come to confirm their identity. Even if he couldn’t win, he had ways to escape.

“Lotus Bloom? That’s not how you use Lotus Bloom.” The voice that came from under the hood was hoarse. The bell-striker raised their sword, and the moment that gleaming point spun into a swordflower, Meng Qiqi froze.

Lotus Bloom.
Exactly the same Lotus Bloom as his.

“Master!” Xiao Yu’er, hiding in the shadows, saw Meng Qiqi pause and quickly shouted a warning. He risked being discovered and leaned out, loosing an arrow.

But it had no effect. The arrow broke midair before it could even reach the bell-striker. Xiao Yu’er froze, too stunned to speak. Meng Qiqi, however, snapped back to his senses. He used Treading Snow again and appeared at Xiao Yu’er’s side like a ghost, grabbing him and retreating in a flash.

He had seen it clearly. That Lotus Bloom had no fewer than one hundred and eight strikes.

Xiao Yu’er, with his bow nearly as tall as himself strapped to his back, was practically being dragged along. The danger was real, but he wasn’t afraid. This kind of thing happened all the time. He even had the mind to glance over Meng Qiqi’s shoulder and look toward the valley.

What he saw left him stunned.

“Master! The beasts have all gathered in the valley. They really are coming!”

Meng Qiqi saw it too. But behind him, the one hundred and eight strikes of Lotus Bloom chased relentlessly. The wind-shredding whistle of countless blades closed in like a wall, leaving him no time to respond, only to run.

Yet his mind was calm. His peripheral vision scanned for any place to take cover. Just before the flying swords caught up, he used Treading Snow again, slipping into a nearby building.

The sound of blades stabbing into the walls came sharp and fast.

Pupupupu!

Meng Qiqi caught his breath. He glanced at the gash on his arm and quickly calculated a way out.

“Give me the bow,” he said, holding out his hand.

Xiao Yu’er handed it over at once. What looked like an ordinary boxwood longbow suddenly clicked and extended on both ends as soon as it entered Meng Qiqi’s hands, transforming into something much larger.

From his spatial ring, Meng Qiqi pulled out an iron arrow as thick as a finger and quietly set it to the string. He aimed it at a hole in the wall left by the flying swords’ impact.

Outside that hole, the bell-striker was already closing in.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Meng Qiqi’s expression turned cold. As he released the arrow, he grabbed Xiao Yu’er and sprang backward. The arrow shot through the opening like a bolt of iron lightning. The bell-striker had no choice but to raise a sleeve to block it. In that brief exchange, Meng Qiqi had already pulled far away.

The bell-striker didn’t rush to follow. Like a cat toying with mice, they chased the two around without pressing in.

Meng Qiqi ground his teeth in frustration. But the angrier he got, the clearer his head became. Before he knew it, he and Xiao Yu’er had drawn near the very screen wall where all this had started. And the beasts in the valley had already arrived.

Caught between two forces, this was the worst-case scenario.

“Master, get down!” Xiao Yu’er shouted from behind. Meng Qiqi dropped low without hesitation.

The bell-striker was just reaching out to grab the little one-eyed brat who had suddenly appeared in his path, intending to toss him aside. But the boy raised a hand and flung a cloud of white powder straight at his face.

Behind them, Meng Qiqi lit a fire striker and flung it out. The white powder ignited instantly. Flames burst up and encircled the bell-striker.

But he wasn’t done yet. Meng Qiqi had always believed in striking when the enemy was down. Xiujian spun into a swordflower, then launched another Lotus Bloom straight into the blaze.

“Go.” The moment the technique left his hand, Meng Qiqi grabbed Xiao Yu’er and turned to flee.

Xiao Yu’er might have only one eye, but he always saw more clearly than most. “Master, left, left. Beasts are coming in from the left.”

Meng Qiqi turned at once. His steps brushed close to the wall, smooth as wind. One hand held Xiao Yu’er, the other gripped his sword. He plunged into the beast horde like a tiger descending a mountain. Qi surged through his blade, and with one wide sweep, the beasts toppled like stalks of wheat at harvest.

While Meng Qiqi was clearing a second wave of monsters, the bell-striker broke through the flames. Except for a scorched corner of his black robe, he was completely unharmed.

This wouldn’t do. If this dragged on, they’d be worn down and finished.

Meng Qiqi exhaled sharply. His gaze flicked toward the screen wall ahead. The sound of wind slicing from behind reached his ears. A cold glint crossed his eyes.

He raised his sword and charged the bell-striker again. On the surface it looked aggressive, but in truth, he held back slightly. Xiao Yu’er caught the hidden signal and immediately turned to run toward the screen wall with bow in hand.

The bell-striker knew nothing of the silent understanding between master and disciple. Nor did Meng Qiqi notice the blackened soot left on the bell-striker’s face from the fire. If he had seen it, he might have realized why someone who had been toying with them like a cat just moments ago would suddenly abandon the game and strike down with real intent.

Meng Qiqi didn’t have time to draw his sword. He reached for his ring-hilt sabre with his left hand and swung it up to block. But the bell-striker’s cultivation was too deep. No matter how fast Meng Qiqi adapted, the force still sent him staggering backward.

Xiao Yu’er fired three arrows in panic, but his aim was off.

The bell-striker swept his sleeve, flinging Xiao Yu’er along with his bow and arrows straight toward the screen wall. Meng Qiqi reached out at once, trying to intercept, while his left hand subtly shifted, gathering force in the sabre. His plan was simple. Knock over the screen wall. Behind it was a stone path. If he timed it right, the falling rubble would smash through the beast horde and open up an escape route.

But something unexpected happened.

Xiao Yu’er struck the screen wall and made no sound. A flash of light followed, and the boy vanished on impact, as if swallowed by the wall itself.

“Xiao Yu’er!” Meng Qiqi forgot everything else. He reached out and was instantly pulled in by a powerful suction.

In a split second, every strange and dangerous scenario flashed through his mind. What he didn’t expect was that he’d pop out the other side of the screen and crash straight into someone’s chest. That person, caught completely off guard, reflexively caught him. Two stunned faces locked eyes at close range.

Senior Disciple!
The Mad dog!

Clang!
The sabre fell from Meng Qiqi’s hand and hit the ground. Xiao Yu’er tumbled across the floor and banged his forehead, raising a large bump. Dai Xiaoshan pointed at the two tangled together in front of everyone, stammering out a string of “You, you, you,” without managing a full sentence.

Silence. Total, crushing silence.

Tianlao. Beidou. Nandao. Wang clan. All the cultivators stared at the scene before them. The famously upright Chen Boyan held another man and didn’t let go. A monk from Futu Temple quietly chanted Amitabha. The female disciples of Ruizhu were already drowning in heartbreak.