Chapter 26: 25 Killing Instrument (Happy New Year)

25 Killing Instrument (Happy New Year)

After hurriedly changing into a new Spider Suit, Tang Zhao returned to his residence.

The door to Wei Zhangle's room opposite was tightly shut; Tang Zhao did not know if he had returned, so he knocked with his fingers and heard someone inside say, "Brother Zhao?"

It seemed he had returned.

But why did Wei Zhangle's voice sound so weak? Tang Zhao could not help but worry, pushed the door open, and entered, immediately feeling a jolt.

The air was permeated with a faint... scent of blood!

His heart sank, as if he had returned to the main hall, to that shocking scene!

"What happened?"

The bed curtains moved, and a thin, small figure on the bed raised a hand slightly:

"Here."

Tang Zhao's expression was grim. When he had just seen Xing Ji in the inner room earlier, he had smelled a faint scent of blood and had a bad premonition, but after chatting about many secrets and encountering Black Widow, he had not thought about it further; he had not expected it to come to this.

Wei Zhangle leaned against the wall and slowly sat up, and only then did Tang Zhao see that one of his arms was wrapped in thick white bandages all the way to the shoulder, seeping with bright red blood.

"What happened?" Tang Zhao asked in shock and anger. "Even if you didn't pass the test, how did you end up like this? Would Lord Xing actually take action?"

Wei Zhangle's voice was weak: "No one took action; I injured myself."

Seeing that Tang Zhao's expression was one of both confusion and anger, he had to say again: "Did you... not take that sword just now?"

Tang Zhao said: "I took it... So it really was a sword wound? Lord Xing didn't tell you to cut him, but instead told you to cut yourself? And you listened to him?"

In an instant, he thought of that strange sword; not only did it give people infinite power, but its blade was also bizarre and unpredictable. It clearly did not harm external objects—some people touched it and were unscathed, while others were as fragile as paper. What was the reason for this?

Could it be that what Xing Ji was looking for was not someone who could gain power by picking up the sword, but someone whom the sword could not harm?

But how did Xing Ji judge that?

Actually, he had this question just now—Xing Ji was not a fool; he had made such a big fuss to chase someone in the middle of the night, so he must have had at least seventy or eighty percent certainty, right? He had gone to such lengths to catch Wei Zhangle back, only for it to not work upon testing? His turning himself in was a twist of fate; if not for this accident, would Xing Ji's great efforts have been in vain?

Wei Zhangle shook his head and said: "No need to cut. As soon as I picked up that sword, from here—" he pointed to his palm under the bandage with his uninjured hand, "—it split upward, flesh and bone separating. If not for Lord Xing taking action, I would have been cut in two by the sword on the spot."

Tang Zhao felt lingering fear upon hearing this and said: "Is that sword so evil and fierce?"

The feeling that sword gave him was truly contradictory—sometimes good, sometimes bad, sometimes righteous, sometimes fierce and strange—it had already confused him.

Wei Zhangle's voice lowered as he said: "It's not the sword's fault... The sword is a good sword. It's just that I am not a good person, so it should be this way. Brother Zhao, you are a good person, and you are a perfect match for that good sword." Having said this, his strength gradually failed, and he leaned back against the bed.

Tang Zhao remained full of doubts, feeling that Wei Zhangle still knew some inside information, but seeing his condition, it was not appropriate to press him, so he only said: "Have you applied medicine?"

Wei Zhangle said: "I have received the medicine bestowed by Lord Xing; it is very effective. I am much better. Brother Zhao, go back first; I am a bit tired." As he spoke, he slowly leaned back against the pillow and lay down, his voice gradually fading.

Tang Zhao sighed, let him rest, and walked out the door.

Walking to the doorway, a thought suddenly arose, and he almost wanted to turn back immediately to ask Wei Zhangle one thing:

"Have you... killed anyone?"

In the end, he did not ask it out loud and walked away quietly.

After hurriedly eating a bland lunch, Tang Zhao sat cross-legged on the bed, deciding to cast aside distracting thoughts and do something.

The best thing to do was something meaningful, for example—cultivation.

He had cultivation techniques, two in total, one of which was even in his head.

Previously, he had already understood that this was not a technique for his current stage, but later he discovered that it was not entirely impossible to practice.

At the very least, the Divine Bird Bathing in Fire Art was divided into two parts: the first was Refining Qi, or rather, transforming Qi into Gang, and the latter part was Refining Spirit, which was the Spirit.

The brilliant light and the divine bird in the flames he saw when that technique entered his head were the "diagram" for Refining Spirit visualization.

This had to be said to be the power of direct technique transmission; originally, the final visualization diagram had to be visualized bit by bit from a picture by oneself, but after he accepted it, it appeared directly in his head, and he could enter it at any time.

Therefore, he calmed his heart and entered meditation, and sure enough, he immersed himself in that world of light and flames.

In that world, he turned into a leaf, endured the burning of the flames, and used all his Spirit to look at the divine bird in the light and flames, until he was burned to nothingness and woke up with a start.

After waking up, he was still in the same place, drenched in sweat, his head throbbing.

The room was the same as before; the tea he had just poured for himself was still on the table and had not yet cooled. The process from birth to death in the flames had only taken an instant.

Tang Zhao lay down on the bed all at once, his eyes unfocused, and gradually fell into a deep sleep.

In his dream, he dreamed of flames again, flames bright red, as red as blood.

Immediately after, the red color truly turned into bloodstains, flying everywhere and filling his field of vision.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes.

It was pitch black before his eyes.

It turned out that it was already late, and without realizing it, he had slept for several hours.

The previous fatigue had disappeared without a trace; instead, his Spirit was vigorous. Although it was difficult to quantify, it seemed that Refining Spirit had been of some benefit.

His mind was clear, and he recalled the question he had not asked during the day.

That question was a loose thread he had found.

Pulling the thread unraveled the entire ball of yarn.

"Have you killed anyone?"

At that time, when he had just entered the inner room, Xing Ji, sitting in the faint scent of blood, had asked him this.

At that time, Tang Zhao had been a bit dazed, only feeling that Lord Xing's train of thought was indeed different from ordinary people.

Thinking about it now, that sentence meant exactly what it said.

Have you killed anyone?

Can you pick up that sword?

Of course, he had never killed anyone.

At the age of fifteen, if not for the changes in his family, he would still be buried in his books in the study.

Perhaps Xing Ji also believed it; after all, he was young and innocent. How could someone so young have killed anyone?

Of course, besides being innocent, aptitude is also required.

It stands to reason that there are not many people with aptitude who are also clean and untainted; at the very least, Xing Ji does not have such people at hand. Therefore, when he accidentally discovered that Wei Zhangle had aptitude and was young, mostly fulfilling both conditions, he felt it was a sure thing and chased after him regardless of everything.

But in the end, it was still unexpected.

Tang Zhao is just an ordinary child who grew up in an ordinary way, at most having a strange teacher and learning some messy things, but Wei Zhangle is not.

That is why he cannot pick up that sword.

This is probably what Xing Ji meant by: "The dog-eat-dog world."

Since Xing Ji said so, naturally he did not mean to blame Wei Zhangle, and it is even less likely that Tang Zhao would.

Therefore, he will not go and ask the other party about this sentence either.

The deeper the night, the more suitable it is for quiet reflection, and his train of thought became increasingly clear—

So what if one has killed someone?

Looking at the style of this Black Spider Villa, is there anyone inside who has not killed someone?

With the Land Inspection Division, which runs rampant and is even more overbearing than the Six Fan Gate, is there anyone who has not killed someone?

From where he is, for hundreds of zhang in all directions, counting men, women, old, and young, is there anyone who has not killed someone?

Tang Zhao has not killed anyone and has grown up safely and steadily; it is just that he has had good luck.

And in the future, since he must learn the sword, how could his hands remain unstained?

The sword is a Killing Instrument!

Thinking of this, he suddenly had an absurd thought.

Since the rule of that sword is "Killer Dies," it must embody righteousness; especially if it is that divine beast, it is the most fair and selfless existence. Thus, to wantonly hold the sword and harm others would be to act unrighteously, would it not?

Xing Ji made him draw the sword and see blood for the first time, openly committing an unrighteous act; regardless of what reasons he had, he made Tang Zhao, this temporary Master, go against the rules of the sword.

Regardless of how much Lord Xing treasures that sword, has he ever really thought about how that sword should be used?