Chapter 267: Rising Against the Wind, Becoming a Dragon

The rope is ordinary hemp, one end tied to a huge rock on the bank, the other leading straight to the opposite shore.

At least one or two hundred ropes are evenly distributed across the blood-red river surface, swaying left and right with the chilling wind of the yin sha.

They turned from the dragon's spine into several hundred ropes.

No matter how you look at it, this scene is strange.

Ye Hongxue cried out: "Is this the situation and opportunity you spoke of? Turning dragon bones into tattered ropes is too shabby! Even as a test, this ruin is far too stingy!"

Yu Qiuyi shook her head: "Since ancient times, the strong have started in humble garb, endured trials, and only then can they transform and soar."

Dragon bones turning into ropes foretell that we, facing the wind, will become dragons; crossing the river, it will be time for nirvana rebirth and dragon transformation.

Jiang Ruyan laughed: "I love hearing that, Junior Sister Yu, for its auspiciousness!"

"Go!"

The silent and cold Xiao Yu Jian flashed, first landing on one of the ropes.

Huangfu Taiqing was the second to leap onto another rope.

Immediately, the disciples of various sects exchanged words of cherish, then leapt onto a rope each.

"Be careful!" Lin Shuyu said, light as a startled swan, she also flew toward a rope on the river.

The disciples of Tianyuan Sect each sought a rope.

After everyone had settled, the densely packed river surface seemed to have an extra layer of tiny insects, swaying uncertainly.

At that moment they glanced at each other.

Huangfu Taiqing said: "The ropes on this river should exactly match our number—two hundred and four!"

Huo Yuanqing said: "Correct! No spare ropes remain on either east or west; this ancient restriction is quite spirited."

Lin Shuyu frowned slightly, pointing aside: "Why is there an extra rope here?"

Everyone looked over, and indeed a spare rope swayed back and forth, empty of anyone.

Ye Hongxue almost blurted: "It must be that Cat-face Man's!"

Yu Qiuyi's face also showed a hint of resentment and envy: "Yes, it surely belongs to that shameless fellow!"

"Cat-face Man?" Huo Yuanqing asked in surprise.

"Ah..."

"Forget it!"

"When he arrives, you'll naturally know!"

Yu Qiuyi, Niu Wanli, Shen Qiong, Du Qiyue, and a large crowd all felt reluctant to speak of it.

Monsters like that Cat-face Man, even mentioning them, make one feel suffocated.

Yet their appearance, seen by Huo Yuanqing and another group, only heightened curiosity.

Even Lin Shuyu showed a hint of surprise.

"Whoa..."

At that moment, the blood river below surged, waves like splashing blood, thick bloody scent, killing intent and cold air locking everyone's bodies; instantly they became as ordinary mortals, unable to stay long.

They had no choice but to move forward together.

After just three or five steps, strange images suddenly flashed into everyone's minds.

Greed, ignorance, hatred, love, killing, sorrow, resentment...

and so on,

All experienced, deeply remembered past events appeared clearly in their minds without warning.

For everyone, this was a great torment and agony.

"Ah..."

Someone couldn't bear it, fell straight down, instantly swallowed by the blood, turning into dry bones.

Once the first fell, then the second, third...

After burning two incense sticks' worth of time, the remaining disciples of each sect finally emerged from the emotions, looked back, and found they had already advanced over ten steps.

But many ropes around were now empty.

No room for sympathy or pain; in this deadly place, each could only look after themselves.

Everyone composed themselves and continued forward.

After another three or five steps, rows of soldiers formed from blood appeared in the river below, each face ferocious, killing intent soaring.

The sect disciples were startled, hurriedly manipulating spiritual and magical tools to resist.

However, spiritual power could not be projected, let alone used for flight; their bodies felt as heavy as mountains, they could only rely on raw strength and their own blade and sword techniques to meet the foe, while constantly balancing body and rope—if they fell into the water, ten deaths, no life.

For a moment, everywhere rang with sword clashes, shouts, the breaking of water soldiers, and wails.

On the river ropes, silhouettes fell one after another.

After unknowingly repelling the blood-colored soldiers in the river, the crowd had already advanced about thirty steps.

Yet the number of people on the surrounding ropes had dwindled greatly.

Now fewer than one hundred forty remained.

At this point no one had the heart to speak; each gripped their tools, kept balance, and stepped forward slowly.

Just then, before each rope, a white figure suddenly appeared.

The sect disciples instinctively stopped.

Those white figures all looked alike—ancient scholars in white, clean‑shaven, smiling, standing on one leg on the ropes.

No one knew where they came from or what they intended.

The disciples felt tense, faces solemn, daring not to make any extra move.

"Pat—"

At this moment, footsteps suddenly came from the riverbank.

The disciples of various sects instinctively turned to look.

Only then did they see a person wearing a white robe, a bamboo hat, and a cat-face mask walking step by step from outside.

"Cat-face man!" He Bizhi said in a deep voice.

His voice carried far across the river surface.

Huo Yuanqing cautiously glanced at the ancient scholar before him; seeing no movement, he then asked curiously: "Is this the cat-face man you all speak of? Is the empty rope meant for him?"

Yu Qiuyi said: "It's him!"

Huangfu Taiqing coldly said: "What's different about him?"

Jiang Ruoyan said: "You'll see soon enough."

After saying that, everyone stared at him.

Only then did they see the "cat-face man" already leapt onto the rope, walking forward step by step.

"We've reached the illusionary segment." Someone whispered.

However, as soon as the words fell, they discovered the "cat-face man" merely paused for a moment, as if just taking a look, then swiftly darted past.

"This..."

"How did he do that?"

Huo Yuanqing, Wang Ling, and the others were greatly astonished—able to ignore so many illusions; does this guy have no heart?

"To be honest." Liu Yu gave a wry smile. "No one knows how he does it; this person seems somehow different."

"We've arrived at the segment where the blood-red soldiers attack in the middle of the river!" Huangfu Taiqing said: "Let's see what he does!"

As soon as his voice fell, dense blood-red soldiers appeared beneath the cat-face man's feet, lurking and slaughtering, sinister and terrifying.

Yet the cat-face man seemed not to mind; he only paused slightly when drawing his waist‑fat meteor‑copper sword, then swiftly switched to an ordinary spirit sword.

No one knew what this "strange" gesture meant, but the instant his spirit sword left its sheath, everyone stared in astonishment.

Because the cat-face man's swordplay was like flowing clouds and water, like an antelope's horns hanging—every movement, every posture, seemed practiced countless times, not even the tiniest flaw existed,

drawn solely for killing, with no superfluous motion, yet filled with a chilling sharpness and killing intent that made hearts race.

Under his blade, the blood-red soldiers below suddenly became extraordinarily fragile and weak.

It was as if an adult were hacking at tofu with a knife.

Until his sword returned to its sheath, the sect disciples realized the blood‑red soldiers in the river had vanished completely.

Before and after, only five breaths of time!

Watching him wield his sword was simply a pleasure.

"This..." Huo Yuanqing opened his mouth, speechless; speaking purely of swordsmanship, conscience dictates that even I, flattering my horse, cannot compare to him. I suspect that possessing such swordsmanship, does this person have a strong obsessive‑compulsive tendency?

Huangfu Taiqing, Wang Ling, and Ye Guqian of the Guangfa Palace, one of the fourteen sects, were likewise mildly astonished.

Likewise, Yu Qiuyi, Niu Wanli, and Ye Hongxue and their group were somewhat surprised—this "cat-face man" not only has near‑demonic intellect, his swordsmanship is likewise eerily proficient; isn't that a bit excessive?

Heng Xian did not consider this praiseworthy; the illusion only contained memories of four or five years of this lifetime, which was entirely acceptable, even dull; as for the blood‑red soldiers, needless to say, he simply cut them down at will.

Continuing forward, when he reached beside Lin Shuyu, he paused slightly, turned his head to look at her.

(End of chapter)