Chapter 62: Stone-Spark, Dream-Body: A Night of Killing (Request Follows, Speeding Up)

Amid a chorus of discontent, this farce finally died down.

The Empress remarked with meaning, “Lord Shaobao, you overstate things.”

The matter was lifted high and set down lightly.

Some felt pity for Xie Lingxuan.

Others glanced at you and whispered, “When heaven wishes to destroy someone, it first drives them mad.”

The sun quietly slipped past the zenith.

The Blessing Ceremony ended amid the clamor of bells and drums; for the next three days, the Emperor must fast and pray in a Daoist temple atop Mount Zhongnan.

The Emperor, accompanied by several trusted ministers, continued toward the temple atop the mountain.

The other officials would spend the night in the mountain’s guest temple and descend the next day.

The Empress, accompanied by several favored concubines and Zhou Jinyu, prepared to ascend and join the Emperor, while those not chosen were escorted back to the deep palace by the Imperial Guards.

You looked up and saw the crowd parting like flowing water—some ascending the mountain in pursuit of the Emperor, others descending.

Two streams of people, two fates.

The throng surged, filled with high-ranking courtiers; word of Xie Lingxuan’s affair spread like wildfire.

Especially your words, “How could he possibly be worthy of Lu Chen?” became the center of everyone’s gossip.

As the matter involved Lord Shaobao Lu Chen, it instantly became the talk of Mount Zhongnan.

The humiliation of a devoted woman stirred a faint pang of sympathy.

In moments, amplified by deliberate embellishment, Xie Lingxuan’s name became widely known.

Crowds bustled, ascending and descending, steps hurried.

Su Yue tugged at her cousin Xie Lingxuan and said, “Cousin, let’s go. Such a man isn’t worthy of you.”

“Arrogant and conceited, utterly dismissive of others.”

“Just now, many young lords and ladies voiced their outrage on your behalf. Once we return to Jingcheng, there will be plenty of ways to ruin Lu Chen’s reputation.”

Xie Lingxuan stared blankly.

She looked toward the man standing on the stone steps, hands tucked into his sleeves; the wind stirred the cuffs of his robes, his expression calm and detached.

You felt Xie Lingxuan’s gaze.

You smiled faintly at her, then lifted your eyes once more to the endless blue sky.

For a moment.

It was as if she understood your heart.

Xie Lingxuan recalled how, years ago, General Wang Yang had bid farewell to Lord Shaobao outside the city gate, and what you had said in the pavilion.

“Fleeting fame, hollow gain, wearying the spirit—time flies like a white horse passing a crevice, a spark in stone, a dream in the body.”

Xie Lingxuan whispered, “Those who know you say you are burdened; those who don’t ask what you seek.”

…………

…………

Mount Zhongnan, nightfall descended.

At the summit stood a dozen Daoist temples.

The stars were quietly veiled by thick clouds, leaving behind a deep, boundless night.

A middle-aged scholar with faintly streaked temples strolled calmly into the temple, heavily guarded by soldiers.

Behind him followed a trembling boy.

The two were the Demon Master Huang Dao and the noble youth Xie Mu.

Huang Dao smiled:

“They’re all dead. What are you afraid of?”

Xie Mu’s lips twitched.

He turned to look at the scattered limbs and rotting flesh, the blood seeping from the door crack and pooling across the floor.

The entire temple was drenched in blood.

In an instant, over fifty men died before his eyes, without a sound.

The stench of gore filled his lungs; he could no longer hold back—his stomach churned violently, surging toward his throat.

“Puke!”

He vomited all over the ground.

Xie Mu was merely a noble youth—accustomed to bravado and brawling, but never to such bloody scenes.

Huang Dao, ever considerate, fetched tea from a guest room and gently patted his back, helping him catch his breath.

Huang Dao comforted him:

“Normal. I threw up the first time I saw a corpse too.”

Xie Mu asked hesitantly, “You threw up?”

Huang Dao chuckled, “Excitement kept me awake all night.”

Xie Mu didn’t know how to respond; he looked at Huang Dao’s concerned face, his heart filled with dread.

He didn’t know how Huang Dao did it—only that a single fingertip tapped lightly.

The towering guards, moments ago clad in armor, instantly split into pieces, scattering across the floor.

Huang Dao noticed the boy’s curiosity and said:

“Want to learn? I can teach you.”

“It’s simple—just shape spiritual energy into threads.”

Xie Mu shook his head frantically.

“No… no thanks.”

Huang Dao didn’t care.

He frowned at the window and said:

“This emperor is cautious—he’s not in the main hall. These men died for nothing… well, they’re dead already.”

This room housed only the palace concubines; the Emperor was not here.

Huang Dao strolled leisurely toward another temple residence.

Xie Mu could only follow, trembling with fear.

At that moment:

A sound came—someone had entered through a side door.

Xie Mu nervously hid behind Huang Dao.

And then—he saw:

A pale-robed, sinister monk stepped in slowly.

His face was cold, his eyes radiating an indescribable malevolence.

Huang Dao merely smiled, unsurprised:

“I sensed a presence trailing me—it’s you, old monk.”

“Why have you come from Great Snow Mountain to Daqing?”

The pale-robed monk was the Venerable Kumu of Great Snow Mountain, draped in a white kasaya.

He had sensed heavy bloodlust outside the temple, and one aura especially obscure—curious, he came to investigate.

He hadn’t expected to meet Huang Dao, the Demon Master of Daqing.

Venerable Kumu clasped his hands and chanted:

“Amitabha!”

His voice was compassionate and solemn: “Demon Master, your killing aura remains as heavy as ever. These women are innocent—why drag them into this?”

Huang Dao smiled:

“Oh? What advice do you offer, old monk?”

Xie Mu’s eyes lit up—perhaps this was a righteous high monk who might save him.

Venerable Kumu shook his head:

“I merely lament the loss of their primordial yin.”

Xie Mu’s vision darkened—same breed of demon.

Two demons had come to Mount Zhongnan tonight.

This was very bad.

Venerable Kumu fixed his gaze on Huang Dao and said gravely:

“Demon Master, what realm have you reached now?”

Huang Dao smiled, hands behind his back:

“Old monk, why not test me yourself?”

Venerable Kumu clasped his hands, paused, then said:

“I dare not.”

“You have mastered the supreme demonic scripture, ‘The Dao Heart Sows the Demon.’”

He sighed and continued:

“I am old, and grow ever more cautious.”

“I came for revenge, intending to exterminate the Three True Teachings. But since you are here, I shall take only the heads of Lu Chen and his brother.”

“Master of Demons, I hope you take no offense.”

Huang Dao gave a slight nod and said calmly:

“As long as it does not involve the Emperor, the lives of all others are up to you.”

With that, the white-robed monk turned and left.

Upon hearing these words, Xie Mu was immediately gripped by anxiety.

This white-robed demon monk intends to kill Lu Shaobao—what should they do now!

The white-robed monk had just departed.

Huang Dao seemed to sense something and waited, composed and unruffled.

Not long after!

Seven figures appeared once more.

Leading the seven was a pair of Daqing martial masters; among them was the eunuch Ma Bao, who held the imperial seal.

These seven had come to Mount Zhongnan to protect the current Emperor.

Seeing the corpses scattered before them, their brows furrowed and a sense of dread rose in their hearts.

Upon clearly recognizing the face of the middle-aged man, all seven turned pale and cried out in shock:

“Master of Demons!”

There’s another chapter tonight, my lords—please read it, I beg you to follow along.

Thank you all for your support!

Tuesday is another life-or-death day—following today is crucial.

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(End of Chapter)