Chapter 402

A chill came from behind, making all my hair stand on end. Instinctively, I took the command flag and turned to defend.

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

At the instant the flying sword was about to strike me, a black, lump-like thing swiftly flew before me and blocked the sword.

This scene was exactly like when Pangzi blocked the sword for Silijing earlier—the flying sword plunged straight into that lump, and when the sword and the lump fell, seeing it clearly I was instantly shocked.

The one who saved my life was actually the Iron-Backed Thorn Insect!

At the critical moment, the Iron-Backed 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, the insects' behavior was strange: without exception they flung themselves onto the sword's sharp edge, slit their own bodies, then slammed hard into the flying sword; as their bodies shattered, their dark‑tinged red blood spattered onto the blade.

They… were perishing together with this flying sword.

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

These scorpions overturned my earlier guess with their actions—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 puzzled; as someone who always likes reasoning, I now fell into extreme confusion. But what happened next made me decide to set this doubt aside for now, because I have something more important to do.

Including the Iron-Backed Thorn Insect, countless scorpions chose self‑destruction to perish together with the flying sword.

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 their poisonous blood to wear away the flying sword's spiritual essence.

Although I have never seen anyone wield a flying sword and know little about the sword control technique, I am clear that ordinary magic artifacts have a tendency: they fear tainted aura.

The so‑called tainted aura does not refer to resentment or hostility, but to the emanation from livestock or other impure things; the simplest example is urine and feces… and also a woman's heavenly sash, or animals that carry a foul aura, such as… dung beetles.

These things inherently bring restriction and harm to magic artifacts; of course, not only artifacts 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 altar, or straight onto a Daoist, and I guarantee you'll die a miserable death… a miserable death.

This flying sword is undoubtedly a superior magic artifact; its refinement took a long time, and it is spiritually linked—if the master is harmed, the sword is harmed, and vice versa.

It was precisely this important point that came to mind, so I forcibly suppressed the myriad doubts in my heart for now.

Watching the blood‑soaked flying sword stagger off in another direction, its flight speed wobbling like that of a severely wounded old man.

The flying sword's damage… means its master is also wounded, his strength greatly diminished.

"Take care sending Pangzi and Brother Zheng away, I'll go after that flying sword," I said without hesitation and turned to leave.

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

At the moment Yao Yirong opened her mouth, everyone's gaze unconsciously fell on her.

"Be careful…" Under everyone's watchful eyes, Yao Yirong timidly gave me a warning.

"Mm… I will definitely return safely." I nodded heavily, acknowledging her warning, then hurriedly turned and ran toward the flying sword not far away.

The reason I'm so anxious is that I've always had a hidden worry. I fear the master behind the flying sword; this encounter let me see how strange the sword is, and it may also have made the sword‑controlling mage bear a grudge against us.

Moreover, no one can say for sure how the mage relates to the Northeast Tiger—whether they are allies, kin, or close friends—and whether, after being wounded, they might avenge the fallen down‑the‑mountain tiger by continuing to seize whatever Chen Zheng holds.

Therefore, whether to vent our anger or to ensure everyone's future safety, we must capture the hidden sword‑controller; after all, nobody wants to be stared down by a poisonous snake and live 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; yet the absence of bodies doesn't mean the place is absolutely safe.

On the contrary, the battlefield after the slaughter is filled with danger everywhere.

The previously invincible gunners and mercenaries have now turned into a pool of purple, viscous blood; where the blood spreads, the surrounding wild grass is cloaked in a layer of gorgeous garb. It looks splendid, but in fact it is filled with deadly poison—any touch means certain death, just like those gunners, with souls departing to the underworld and no remains left.

Especially the Iron‑Backed Thorn Insect, the king of scorpions: wherever it goes it does not corrode organisms but assimilates them, turning any life it steps on into a deadly toxic substance. Moreover, you cannot tell from appearance which areas it has passed through and which it has contaminated.

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

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

At this moment the flying sword no longer had its previous lightning‑like speed; it flew while wobbling, several times almost falling.

Only when it flew into a mountain gorge 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 my eyesight weren't exceptionally good, I would not be able to see that sliver of silver light 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 the poisonous insects.

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

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

I don't know whether it is hiding 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. This strangeness also proves that the mage who controls the sword can precisely see the sword's range.

Thinking of this, I grew even more nervous, the hand holding the command flag even breaking out in a faint sweat; I could only steel myself to be more careful.

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

To control the sword and assassinate someone, the mage must first set up an altar and perform rites; since they set up an altar, they will definitely use items such as yellow paper.

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

But after I had walked the entire long alley, I found no trace of paper ash or the like. Only now did I come to my senses, realizing I had been chasing the flying sword all along and had run into an unknown place I had never been to before.

At the end of the alley stood a small temple, modest and somewhat dilapidated, dedicated to the City God. This temple also sat at a junction of several forked roads.

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

Therefore, it's not impossible that the flying sword entered this intersection, then turned direction and continued fleeing toward another fork. As for me, I could only stand helplessly before the City God's temple gate, gazing at the three not‑far‑ahead forks.

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

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

Ah… I sighed helplessly, then helplessly slipped my hand into my pocket.

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

All together there were five strands, half black half white. The paper figures inside the hall are delicate and exquisite, and moreover fiercer and more uncanny than those we encountered by the stream, largely thanks to these few strands of hair.

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

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

In a flash, a sudden bright light flashed through my mind, allowing me to quickly clench my open palm and tightly grab the hair that was about to be discarded, retrieving it just in time...

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

This place is the City God Temple; the City God Lord is a Yin spirit, and a natural altar is right here, so I don't need to go looking for it.

Because the flying sword is damaged, its master must have fallen into a weak period. Normally, the Literary Law Technique might not be useful, but now... who knows.

Thinking of this, I took a deep breath, glanced at the somewhat dilapidated City God Temple before me, and, without realizing it, my lips curved into an arc.