Chapter 130: Saving the Ironback Thorn Insect

A chill came from behind, making all my body hair stand up. Instinctively, I turned with the command flag to defend.

However, as I turned, I saw something that shocked me and seemed unbelievable.

Just as the flying sword was about to pierce me, a black, lump-like thing swiftly flew in front of me and blocked that flying sword.

This scene was exactly like when Pangzi blocked the sword for Silijing earlier—the flying sword stiffly pierced into that lump-like object, and when the flying sword and the object fell, I, seeing clearly, was instantly shocked.

The one who saved my life was actually the Ironback Thorn Insect!

At the critical moment, the Ironback Thorn Insect flew before me, using its flesh-and-blood body to block the flying sword. As it and the sword fell together, countless scorpions swarmed up onto the silver sword's blade.

Moreover, these creatures behaved strangely: without exception, they flung themselves onto the sharp blade, slit their own bodies, then slammed hard into the flying sword; as their bodies shattered, the reddish blood mixed with dark splattered onto the sword.

They…… were perishing together with this flying sword.

At this moment, everyone's hearts were filled with doubt; the most confused and shocked was me.

These scorpions, with their actions, overturned my earlier guess—they were not here to ambush us, but to save us.

But…… why would they come to save us? Moreover, this priceless, highly trained King Scorpion actually sacrificed itself to block the flying sword for me.

I was utterly puzzled; as someone who always likes reasoning, I now fell into extreme confusion. But what happens next made me decide to set this doubt aside for now, because I have more important things to do.

Including the Ironback Thorn Insect, countless scorpions chose to perish together with the flying sword by self-mutilation.

At first, I couldn't understand what these scorpions were doing! But when their crimson-black blood covered the entire sword blade, I finally realized.

They were using the turbid aura of the poisonous blood on their bodies to wear away the flying sword's spirituality.

Although I have never seen anyone wield a flying sword so far, and know little about sword-controlling technique, I am clear that ordinary magical tools have a tendency: they fear impure vapors.

The so-called impure vapors are not resentment or hostility, but the emanations from livestock or other foul things—simplest example, urine and feces…… also a woman's heavenly kelp sash, or some animals carrying foul vapors, such as…… dung beetles.

These things inherently bring restriction and harm to magical tools; of course, not only to tools, but even a Daoist himself would suffer—if you're bored and have nothing to do, you could try throwing a dung beetle onto someone else's spirit altar, or directly at a Daoist; I guarantee you'll die miserably…… miserably.

This flying sword is undoubtedly a superior magical tool, and its forging days are certainly not short; it is spiritually linked with its master—if the master is harmed, the sword is harmed, and vice versa.

I just recalled this important point, so I forcibly suppressed the myriad doubts in my heart for now.

Seeing the blood-soaked flying sword staggering off in another direction, its flight speed tilting left and right like a severely wounded old man.

The flying sword is damaged…… which means its master is also injured, his strength greatly diminished.

"You guys carefully send Pangzi and Zheng Ge away from here, I'll go chase that flying sword." Without hesitation I turned and left.

"Wait, Hai Sheng!" came Yao Yirong's shout from behind; I turned and saw her worried, hesitant expression.

The moment Yao Yirong opened her mouth, everyone's gazes instinctively fixed on her.

"Please be careful..." Under everyone's watchful eyes, Yao Yirong timidly admonished me.

"Mm…… I will definitely return safely." I nodded heavily, counting it as thanks for Yao Yirong's reminder. Then I hurriedly turned and ran toward the flying sword not far away.

The reason I'm so anxious is because I've always had a hidden worry in my heart. I fear the master of the flying sword hiding behind the scenes; this clash let me witness the sword's eeriness, and it's very likely the sword-controlling mage will bear a grudge against us.

Moreover, no one can say for sure what relationship this mage has with the Northeast Tiger—whether they're cooperating, related, or close friends—and whether, after being wounded, they'll avenge the dead downhill tiger and continue to seize that "thing" Chen Zheng holds.

Therefore, whether to vent our anger or to ensure everyone's future safety, we must always capture the hidden sword-controlling person—after all, nobody wants to be stared at by a poisonous snake, living in constant anxiety.

That silver flying sword fled toward the direction where the gunners and scorpions had fought earlier; when I reached the battlefield and saw the wreckage scattered everywhere, I hesitated a moment and slightly slowed my steps.

It's not that I'm afraid, but I must be cautious. The battlefield now has no half a corpse, only some scorpion limbs and fragments. But the absence of corpses doesn't mean this place is absolutely safe.

On the contrary, after the slaughter, the battlefield is full of dangers everywhere.

Those previously unbeatable gunner mercenaries have now turned into a puddle of purple, viscous blood; where the blood spreads, the surrounding wild grass are cloaked in a layer of purple, gorgeous-looking attire. Appearing splendid, but actually filled with deadly poison—any touch means certain death, just like those gunners, returning to the Yellow Springs, leaving no bones.

Especially that Ironback Thorn Insect, the king of scorpions—wherever it goes, it doesn't corrode organisms but assimilates them, turning any creature it steps into into a deadly toxic substance. Moreover, you cannot tell from appearance which areas it has passed through or where it has scattered poison.

Therefore, within this range of the battlefield, I could only slow my steps, walking carefully.

Having stepped out of the battlefield's range, I immediately quickened my pace, swiftly chasing after that silver flying sword.

At this moment, the flying sword no longer had its previous lightning-like speed; as it flew, it wobbled, several times nearly falling.

Only when it flew into a canyon in the mountains did it slightly regain some vigor, a faint glimmer of cold light appearing on its dark blade, and its escape speed gradually picked up.

The night grew darker and darker; if not for my exceptionally keen eyesight, I would never have seen that glint of silver hidden in the pitch-black night.

The flying sword led me out of the small hill and back into the urban area of Aomen. The roads it took were all remote, uninhabited stretches, and as time passed, its speed became much faster than when it was corroded by poisonous insects.

With a whoosh, the flying sword slipped into a turning alley; I hurriedly chased after the place where it disappeared.

But when I ran into that alley, I found it pitch black inside, with no trace of the flying sword.

I don't know whether it's hidden in the dark or has slipped out of my sight, but I can be sure the master of the flying sword is nearby.

This flying sword is very psychic, spiritually linked with its master. Before, it could be knocked down repeatedly and bounce back promptly, even accurately assassinating Chen Zheng. Its eeriness also proves that the sword-controlling mage can precisely see where the flying sword is.

Thinking of this, I grew even more tense; the hand gripping the command flag even broke out in a faint sweat. I could only summon my spirit and be more careful.

As I walked, I carefully observed the surroundings, looking for any remnants of yellow paper or the like.

A mage who controls a sword to assassinate someone must first set up an altar and perform rites; since setting up an altar, they will definitely use items like yellow paper.

So, while I drew floral characters in my hand, holding the command flag before my chest as a guard, my eyes also searched everywhere in the alley.

But after I walked the whole long alley, I found no trace of paper scraps. Only now did I come to my senses—I had been chasing the flying sword all along and ended up in an unknown place I'd never been before.

At the alley's end stood a small temple, modest and somewhat dilapidated, enshrining the City God. This temple also sat among several forked roads.

To the south there is an intersection, to the north also one, and I entered from the eastern fork.

So, it's not impossible that the flying sword entered this intersection, then turned direction and continued fleeing toward another intersection; I, too, could only stand before the City God Temple's gate, helplessly looking at the three intersections not far ahead.

The eastern one is the direction I came from, so that intersection can be ignored. Only the southern and northern ones remain—whether I continue south or go north, these two utterly different directions lead to utterly different outcomes.

If I take the wrong path, it means the flying sword and its master will completely escape. Then we might have to endure a long, long period of anxiety.

Sigh…… helpless, I let out a breath, helplessly slipping my hand into my pocket.

My hand seemed to touch something fluffy; I pulled it out in surprise and found it was the hair left after the paper figurine was burned to ash.

Scattered, there were five strands in total, half black half white. The paper figurines inside the hall are so delicate and exquisite, and moreover more fierce and strange than those we met by the stream, largely thanks to these few hairs.

But I can't even find a damaged flying sword, let alone use it to locate the sword-controlling master—what use is keeping these few hairs?

Thinking this, I, vexed and irritated, casually flicked my hand, about to throw those hairs away.

Suddenly, a bright light flashed in my mind, allowing me to timely clench my open palm and firmly grasp the hair that was about to be discarded, retrieving it just in time.

Right, this is the hair of the flying sword's master; I can cast a spell on him… thereby find him.

This is the City God Temple; the City God is a yin spirit, a natural altar is right here, so I don't need to go looking.

Because the flying sword is damaged, its master must have fallen into a weakened state. Normally, casting a spell with Wen Fa might not work, but now… it might.

Thinking of this, I took a deep breath, glanced at the somewhat dilapidated City God Temple before me, and the corner of my mouth unconsciously curved into an arc.