Chapter 166 Book 2 Chapter 79

At midnight, outside Sighnaq, nine shadows gathered upon the plains.

They exchanged nods and smiles, stealing quick glances at one another before concealing themselves beneath layers of protective techniques. Then they set off, flying toward the Shanay-Timpishka River. Their destination? The heart of the Steppes, and the grave of Jenghiz Khan.

It was a scene fit for a jade slip drama.

Many, many miles away, another such scene was unfolding, though its participants would have cursed anyone who suggested it was fit for recording on a jade slip. Both sides were furious, bitter, and doing their utmost to kill the other. The situation was somewhat complicated by the nature of the "sides."

One was composed of several different factions, each taking the shape of an enormous, monstrous beast formed from golden fire. They chased, fought, and guarded against one another almost as often as they did their quarry. The other side – the mysterious quarry – was a lone man flying through the sky, trailing golden light behind him. A magnificent lion helm adorned his head, while an equally magnificent moustache grew upon his upper lip. He was the traitor of the Empire, the enemy of the Yuan, the Lion General Shi Wanjun. His name was known to all.

Primarily because of how loudly a voice screamed from within the flaming skull pursuing him. "Shi Wanjun, you despicable coward! Turn around and face me if you have the guts! A thousand curses upon you, your family, your clan, and your pet dog!"

Shi Wanjun continued fleeing, his voice equally loud and full of contempt. "You think your numbers frighten me? Only boars hunt in flocks! This lion stalks alone! Ha ha ha ha!" The golden skull grew even more incensed. The flames comprising it pulsed violently as it opened its jaws wide in rage, as though attempting to bite down on Shi Wanjun from afar.

Beside it ran a flaming dog, racing atop a carpet of golden fire. It blasted through the clouds for miles around, sweeping the sky clear in waterfalls of pale-golden flames so that Shi Wanjun had nowhere to hide and no way to slip away unseen. The final shape pursuing the fleeing traitor was a golden tortoise. It swam through the air atop orange flames, its shell glowing cherry-red. Among all the constructs, it was the fastest, far faster than even Shi Wanjun, and by far the most well-defined. The only reason it had not yet caught up and engaged its quarry was caution. Especially after last time – a dozen warriors making up the tortoise had died within as many seconds when it finally closed the distance.

Still, Shi Wanjun was growing ever more ragged. His qi was weakening, his spirit was faltering, his attempts to reach the Dead Sea had long since ceased, and any moment now, he would be too exhausted to fight. And that was when the tortoise – the intertwined form of the Cyan Horde – would strike.

Mo Jian (2) was unaware of the thoughts of the flaming tortoise pursuing him, but he would not have been surprised to hear them. The Cyan Horde's intent was obvious, and he really was faltering. His speed simply was not enough. Any aggregation of Yuan led by a Khan was faster than him. The only reason he remained a step ahead was the Heaven Enshrouding Ding. Of course, he had a way to break the deadlock, but…

Once more, he swept his spiritual sense across the skies for hundreds of li, making no effort to conceal it. He wanted them to know he was looking. He wanted them to know he was aware of them. And once again, he felt that overbearing qi on the horizon. He could not see its source. The vastness of the plains and the strange disturbances caused by the pursuing hordes made precise perception difficult, but the presence itself was unmistakable. It was like a mountain standing beyond the edge of the world, immovable and patient, its weight pressing faintly against his spiritual sense.

He still did not know who it was, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was a major horde, waiting and watching. Mo Jian did not know which Khan commanded it, nor exactly how many warriors it contained. He only knew that it had remained at the edge of the battlefield for a long time, neither joining the pursuit nor withdrawing. He was hoping to draw them out. Three Khans alone were a poor prize before he plunged into the Dead Sea. If he could force a fourth Khan to reveal himself, however-

That would be worth using his trump card.

More importantly, the fewer powerful Yuan hordes he left behind, the easier things would be for the original. Every Khan he could cripple, every horde he could scatter, every powerful warrior he could force to withdraw would make the original's journey that much safer. Mo Jian's eyes flickered toward the horizon.

On that note, he could now also make out the Dead Sea clearly. He had been unable to make much progress toward it. The Yuan pursuing him had repeatedly herded him away from the water, subtly shifting their formation whenever he changed direction. But he had remained close enough that, between the gaps in the clouds and the flashes of golden fire, he could now glimpse the lake stretching across the horizon.

The sight was magnificent. The Dead Sea did not look like a normal body of water. Above it hung a vast, motionless canopy of white. Layer upon layer of clouds had accumulated over the lake until they seemed less like clouds and more like an enormous ceiling descending from the heavens. They were utterly colorless, a solid expanse of pale white that swallowed the light of the stars and turned the entire horizon into a world of silver and ash. From that endless white sky, salt fell. Great clumps of it descended without pause, tumbling from the heavens in an endless, silent snowfall. Some pieces were no larger than grains of sand, while others fell in jagged masses the size of houses. They struck the surface of the Dead Sea with muted splashes before sinking beneath the gray waters, adding themselves to the countless layers that had accumulated there since antiquity.

The shore was white as well. Salt covered everything. It coated the earth in a thick crust that stretched for miles, turning the shoreline into something that looked almost frozen beneath the pale sky. In places, enormous deposits rose from the ground like cliffs of bleached stone. Elsewhere, the salt had hardened into strange ridges and pillars, shaped by winds that had blown across the lake for who knew how many centuries. And beyond it all lay the Dead Sea itself.

Its surface stretched toward the horizon like a vast sheet of hammered metal or creased cloth, its color shifting constantly between dull iron and pale silver as the light moved across it. The waves rose and fell with an eerie gentleness, rolling across the water without ever truly breaking. They rose, curved, and sank again, as though some enormous creature beneath the surface were breathing in its sleep. Mo Jian had seen seas before. He remembered the Thousand Shattered Islands, where waves had smashed themselves against reefs and cliffs with enough force to shake the earth. Those waters had been violent and alive. The Dead Sea was neither.

It moved endlessly, but there was no vitality in its motion.

Nothing living dwelt within it, at least, nothing that could honestly be called alive. The salt beasts were the exception. They were creatures shaped from the Dead Sea itself, formed from salt and infused with the lake's strange power. They wandered its shores and lurked beneath its waters, attacking anything that came too close. Their bodies could resemble beasts, monsters, or even distorted imitations of cultivators, but none possessed the true essence of life.

The Dead Sea was only one step away from becoming a secluded domain like the Lava River. Yet even without fully crossing that threshold, it was many times more dangerous than that useless stretch of fire. The salt beasts of the Dead Sea could threaten even a Khan. And those were merely the creatures that wandered near the surface. There were rumors that, deep beneath those gray waters, entire communities of salt beasts had formed. According to the more extravagant tales, they possessed cities carved from salt, organized themselves into kingdoms, and were ruled by beings known as Salt Kings and Salt Emperors. Mo Jian had no intention of discovering whether those rumors were true. At least, not willingly.

Unfortunately, he would have to test the Dead Sea sooner or later. He had already come this far. His gaze lingered on the distant waters. Perhaps this time, he should make another break for the lake. He could force his way toward it and refuse to back down. If the hidden Khan truly was waiting for him, that might finally be enough to force them to act. And if they did…

Mo Jian's eyes narrowed. Then he would have exactly what he wanted.

His lips curled into a faint smile. The thought was worth the risk.

Mo Jian made his decision, abruptly changing direction. The golden light trailing behind him curved through the night as he turned toward the Dead Sea once more. The change was immediate as the pursuing hordes reacted almost as one. The flaming skull roared, while the golden dog veered across the sky, its body exploding into a torrent of fire as it attempted to cut off his path. The enormous tortoise shifted as well, its four flaming limbs churning through the air as its entire formation changed direction. Mo Jian ignored them, finally using the Divine Water Lightning Technique. His speed rose as his body transformed into a streak of living lightning, accelerating with every instant. Lightning crackled around him as his figure became little more than a blue bolt tearing across the night. Above his head, the Heaven Enshrouding Ding trembled. Its invisible power spread around him, concealing his presence even as his speed climbed higher. His figure blurred and faded, his qi vanishing beneath layer after layer of concealment.

The Yuan were not fooled. They had fought him for too long.

The flaming dog opened its enormous jaws, and a column of golden fire erupted from within. It swept across the sky ahead of Mo Jian, filling the heavens with scorching light. The lightning bolt forked in two, and both streaks shot sideways, splitting around the advancing flames. The golden fire passed within several dozen zhang of one of them before disappearing into the darkness behind. But the golden tortoise was already closing in. Its enormous shell rotated slightly, and the flames beneath its body suddenly surged. The entire formation shot forward like a meteor, covering the distance between them with frightening speed.

Mo Jian felt the pressure behind him. He glanced back. The tortoise was catching up. At this rate, it would overtake him soon. The flaming skull was also led by a Khan, though a weaker one. It could not quite match the tortoise's speed, and the distance between the two was steadily widening. The Heaven Enshrouding Ding was the only thing keeping him alive.

Mo Jian smiled. "Come on."

He pushed his qi harder, his body shooting toward the Dead Sea. The horizon expanded before him. The white sky above the lake seemed to swallow the stars. Salt continued to fall in endless sheets, sparkling faintly beneath the moonlight. The gray waters grew larger with every breath, until Mo Jian could see individual waves rolling across their surface. Behind him, the Yuan hordes were closing.

Three hundred li.

Two hundred.

One hundred.

The oppressive aura he had sensed earlier remained motionless, still watching. Mo Jian smiled. He already knew this hidden adversary was patient and methodical. They were waiting somewhere beyond the horizon, deliberately holding back while allowing the other Yuan to exhaust him. Perhaps they were waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Perhaps they intended to seize the Sulde once he had been driven into desperation. Or perhaps they simply wanted to see what he would do. Either way, Mo Jian had no intention of playing according to their expectations.

Fifty li.

The first salt fell around him as a grain struck his shoulder. It was no larger than a fingernail, yet the instant it touched his protective qi, it began to corrode it. Mo Jian's expression changed slightly as he brushed it away, and the grain immediately crumbled into powder. His eyes flicked toward the Dead Sea. Now – the moment was now.

Mo Jian stretched out a hand, and from his nearly empty storage pouch, a wooden pole shot into his grip. Black horsehair had been arranged in a circular pattern around its head, hanging from a rounded surface crowned by a shape resembling a flame, or perhaps a forked tongue of fire. It was an ancient and rather peculiar looking object, but Mo Jian had thoughtfully wrapped it in a layer of golden qi, causing the fake Black Sulde to shine brightly against the darkness of the night.

Then he drew in a deep breath and bellowed theatrically across the heavens, "To have caught up to me, Shi Wanjun, is your greatest misfortune, barbarian horselords! Prepare to die before the might of the Black Sulde!"

The reaction was immediate. Qi erupted from the horizon with such violence that the entire western sky turned orange-red. Something enormous stirred beyond it, and the hidden watcher that had patiently observed the battle from afar finally revealed itself. A massive figure rose from the horizon, fashioned entirely from golden flames and so immense that it seemed to rival the mountains in stature. It sat upon a magnificent throne of fire, the flames beneath it billowing like a great cloud as the throne carried its master through the heavens. Its head was that of a dragon, and its eyes burned like twin suns.

The moment it saw the Black Sulde, the golden throne surged forward. It shot through the sky with terrifying speed, dragging a vast trail of fire behind it as the distance between the two rapidly disappeared. The hidden watcher had finally taken the bait.

It was not the only one to react. Behind Mo Jian, the golden tortoise let out a tremendous roar and accelerated, while the flaming dog and skull rushed toward him from either flank. Their enormous forms blazed against the night as they converged, sealing off every avenue of escape. In the space of a few breaths, Mo Jian found himself surrounded on all sides by forces vastly more powerful than himself. Any ordinary cultivator caught in such a situation would have been torn apart without the slightest chance of resistance.

Mo Jian, however, merely smiled. He was sorely tempted to stroke his magnificent golden moustache, but decided against it. Instead, he released the Netherworld Scorpion.

"Chiggis Khan!" he shouted, as though the technique required him to call out the name.

The scorpion appeared beside him, its paper-thin wings fluttering as its body coalesced from mist and starlight. For a moment it hovered in the air, eerily silent amid the tumult of golden flames, before raising one of its claws. It pointed directly toward the approaching figure seated upon the golden throne. Mo Jian's grin widened into one of triumph. He had already suspected the answer, but the Netherworld Scorpion had confirmed it beyond doubt.

The hidden watcher was Chiggis Khan, leader of the Orange Horde. Mo Jian immediately abandoned his headlong flight toward the Dead Sea and turned around to watch the approaching horde. There was no longer any need to run. The bait had been taken.

The Netherworld Scorpion vanished in a blur of pale light, and the flaming giant upon its throne of fire winked out. The qi fueling it vanished and scattered, and the sudden absence was like the air itself being sucked away. An implosion of qi erupted in its wake, making everyone stumble in midair. The remaining Yuan of the Orange Horde immediately fell apart, either fleeing in terror or collapsing upon each other at their Khan's death.

Shock, disbelief, and fear finally began to dawn upon the other Khans, but it was too late. The golden tortoise had caught up. It released a tremendous roar, its enormous head rising above the flames, its shell blazing red-orange beneath the night sky. The warriors comprising the formation tried to flee, steering the tortoise away, but it was too close. For the first time since the pursuit had begun, Mo Jian could see their individual faces. The tortoise was so close that every detail was visible. He could see the Khan as well, a figure wreathed in flames, standing alone at the head of the tortoise while the rest of his horde formed its body.

The next instant, the scorpion reached this Khan as well. His qi winked out. Horror was painted across his face, but the understanding came too late. Mo Jian looked toward the other two and found that both were fleeing. The dog was faster; it had already reached halfway to the horizon. The skull, meanwhile, was heading straight upward, buoyed by clouds of black smoke that wreathed its form and concealed it from view.

Mo Jian hesitated for an instant before making his decision. "The dog," he said to the Netherworld Scorpion calmly hovering above his shoulder.

The ghostly insect twitched again. Under the moonlight, it looked as though it had been carved from glass, wrapped in a thin film of light that was as weightless as air yet flowed like water. The scorpion heeded his order and vanished once more. Less than a minute later, the dog fell apart just as it was about to reach the horizon. The Yuan comprising it scattered like leaves before a gale, green light spinning and fragmenting in every direction. The scorpion returned to him soon afterward, but the skull had already vanished.

Mo Jian released a deep breath, feeling triumph and exhaustion war within his body. Days of fleeing and being chased, only for everything to end like this. There was a certain irony to it.

More importantly, Chiggis Khan was dead. That was big news. It was the Orange Horde and its actions that had led to the war between the Empire and the Yuan this time. With Chiggis out of the picture, attacks against the Wall would cease, not merely because the Orange Horde had been shattered, but because even scattered tribes and lone Khans, like the one who had previously probed the Wall, would think twice before making another move. After all, without a major horde backing them, any attacking force would be isolated and could be defeated in detail.

This diversion was proving to be even better than Mo Jian had expected.

Mo Jian turned his gaze toward the Dead Sea. The night had grown strangely quiet now that the enormous flaming formations pursuing him were gone, leaving behind little more than scattered wisps of smoke and fragments of lingering qi. Yet the Dead Sea remained unchanged. Beneath the moonlight, it possessed an eerie, almost otherworldly beauty. The vast expanse of water stretched toward the horizon like a sheet of black glass, its surface barely disturbed by the wind. Here and there, pale salt crusts drifted upon the waves, dissolving slowly back into the depths.

News of what had happened here would soon spread throughout the Steppes. Mo Jian hoped it would entice the Khans as much as it made them wary. He needed them to chase him, or more accurately, he needed them to keep chasing him and leave the original alone. Which meant there was no reason for him to remain here and waste time. The closer "Shi Wanjun" got to the heart of the Steppes, the greater the threat he would appear to be. So long as his movements remained unpredictable and his strength appeared sufficient to threaten the great tribes, even the most rational of the Khans would eventually feel compelled to stop him.

Nodding to himself at his impeccable logic, Mo Jian shot toward the Dead Sea. The instant he crossed the shoreline, the world changed. A curtain of salt hung above the waters. It was like mist, except instead of being a spray of water, it was comprised of countless grains of salt suspended within the air, drifting endlessly through the darkness. Some were as fine as dust, while others were the size of pebbles. They fell in a ceaseless silver-white torrent, covering the Dead Sea in a vast saltfall.

The grains struck the protective qi surrounding Mo Jian's body, and tiny holes appeared in the barrier before being sealed almost instantly. As he had already discovered, the salt was corrosive. Every breath sent here would demand a continuous expenditure of qi. Mo Jian continued forward. The surface of the Dead Sea stretched beneath him, black and silent, while the saltfall descended around him like an endless curtain. Moonlight filtered through the clouds above, turning the entire world silver.

Perhaps it was time to use the Heaven Enshrouding Ding's newest ability. If he transformed himself into a ghostly state, most physical substances should be unable to interfere with him. At the very least, the saltfall would no longer be able to corrode his qi so easi-

Mo Jian had just begun to circulate his cultivation when the Dead Sea moved. Far below him, something enormous shifted beneath the black water. For a heartbeat, there was only darkness, and then the water began to rise. A vast shadow passed beneath the surface, so large that Mo Jian could not see its edges. The sea bulged upward beneath him, hundreds of thousands of tons of black water lifting as though some colossal beast were pushing its back against the surface. Mo Jian shot upward, eyes narrowing-

The Dead Sea erupted, a monstrous shape bursting out from the depths. It was a shark, its body carved entirely from salt, translucent and white beneath the moonlight. Layer upon layer of crystalline scales covered its hide, each one reflecting the silver light of the moon. Its enormous fins tore through the saltfall, scattering countless fragments into the air. The creature's mouth was so wide that it seemed like a second night had opened beneath him. Rows of jagged salt teeth stretched backward into darkness, each one taller than a man. Inside its maw, the moonlight disappeared.

For the briefest instant, Mo Jian hung before it, a tiny figure suspended above the enormous shadow, before the shark snapped its jaws shut, swallowing him whole.

A heartbeat later, a pinpoint of blue light appeared deep inside the shark. Its crystalline flesh began to glow, blue radiance spreading through its throat, then its stomach, then outward through its enormous body. Cracks of light raced across its translucent hide like lightning trapped beneath ice. The shark exploded from the inside. Blue flames erupted through its translucent body, tearing through layers of salt and crystalline flesh. Its enormous torso split apart, and for a single breathtaking instant the creature became something almost beautiful. Its body fragmented into millions upon millions of grains of salt, the explosion sending them cascading through the air like a snowstorm of burning diamonds. The great white mass collapsed into the Dead Sea in a deafening roar, thousands of tons of salt and water crashing into the black surface below.

Waves surged skyward. The moon vanished behind towering walls of water, and a heartbeat later Mo Jian shot out from within them, propelled high into the night. He did not stop until he was more than halfway to the "clouds" hanging above the Dead Sea. His robes were soaked and his hair was plastered against his face. Absently, he cast the "Shed Mortal Dust" spell, becoming pristine once more. A frown appeared on his face. He turned to the ghostly scorpion perched upon his shoulder, feeling aggrieved.

"No souls," he said in realization. The instant the shark had swallowed him, Mo Jian had sent the scorpion to kill it. Except, the scorpion had used its stinger upon it – and achieved absolutely nothing. It made sense; these salt beats were not real flesh and blood beings, but expressions of twisted qi. They were more like spells giving form than independent entities. The scorpion worked by targeting souls, which they lacked.

"Damn." Mo Jian rubbed his forehead as a headache began blooming behind his eyes. Here he had thought crossing the Dead Sea would be a walk in the park. Apparently, even the sea itself wanted to make things difficult for him. After a moment, he sighed. Fine, if the scorpion could not cross the Dead Sea for him, then he would find another way. Mo Jian raised one hand, palm upward. The Heaven Enshrouding Ding appeared above it. It was tiny now, no larger than a fist, forged from strange blue-black metal. A small metal scorpion formed its handle, its curved tail frozen above the miniature cauldron.

Mo Jian looked at it for a moment, before calling the Netherworld Scorpion back. The ghostly insect flew into the Ding, its body dissolving into pale light and merged with the cauldron. The Heaven Enshrouding Ding trembled, its once-solid form gradually becoming translucent. The metal faded within moments, the physical Ding turning into little more than a faint, ghostly outline, barely visible against the night. A flame kindled within it. At first, it was blue, but then the color slowly shifted to the same hue as the Ding itself, the fire becoming pale. It turned white, then almost completely colorless, taking on the same ethereal quality as the Ding itself.

Mo Jian's expression became solemn. He concentrated and began drawing out more of the ghostly fire. The original had done the same before entrusting him with the Netherworld Scorpion. As long as he possessed enough of this fire, he could still tap into the scorpion's xian even when the creature itself was far away. However, there was a limitation: the fire was finite. Just like his qi, once it was exhausted, it was exhausted. Mo Jian would have to conserve it carefully.

He continued drawing out the ghostly fire until he was satisfied with the amount he had accumulated. Then, he summoned the Scorpion out once more. It emerged from within the cauldron in a flutter of pale wings and returned to its familiar position beside Mo Jian's shoulder, hovering silently in the air. Mo Jian regarded it for a moment before saying, "Stay here. Keep an eye on this shore. If you see any Khan trying to pass through, kill them. Just not Tayang Khan. If, by some accident, he comes here, spare him. Understood?"

The Netherworld Scorpion merely twitched its wings and continued hovering there, its crystalline body glimmering faintly beneath the moonlight. It looked so completely indifferent to his instructions that Mo Jian could not help feeling a little ridiculous. He was standing here giving orders to an insect that seemed far more interested in watching the Dead Sea than listening to him.

Still, he knew it had understood. Their bond ran deep enough that words were hardly necessary between them. Mo Jian gave the scorpion one last look before turning away. Without another word, he shot forward and plunged into the Dead Sea, his figure quickly disappearing behind the curtain of falling salt.

The Netherworld Scorpion remained behind, suspended above the shore. Its pale, pearlescent body caught the moonlight, casting a faint glow amid the endless rain of glittering salt. From a distance, it looked almost like a solitary beacon standing watch over the dark waters.

Mo Jian glanced back only once. For some reason, the sight brought a strange thought to his mind.

Like a lighthouse for the dead.

A smile touched his lips. What a fitting thought.

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