Chapter 836: A Moment to Savor (11)

No matter how much Qing enjoyed slaughter, right now she was filled with nothing but irritation.

If all she liked was the act of carving meat and bone, she did not need to slaughter living people in the first place.

She could cut up corpses, and if that was fine, then they did not even have to be human corpses—she could just open a butcher shop, and wouldn’t every single day be bliss?

But the act of splitting human skin, tearing muscle, and breaking bone was only the process.

What the Slaughter Calamity Star truly pursued was grief and sorrow and pain; the wretched emotions produced by that series of disassembly, those were the purpose of slaughter that brought pleasure.

In that sense, killing Five Poison Sect disciples was not slaughter at all.

From the start, if they were bastards who had steeled themselves for death, bastards who knew they were going to die, then what were they, if not living corpses?

Of course, there were also real living corpses.

“KYAAAAHK!”

In the dim jungle thicket, grotesque figures charged in, their blood-red eyes blazing.

Bare torsos, limbs twisted into something bizarre as they crawled and leapt—those red glares trailing behind them, drawing a tangled mess of strokes as they closed in.

If someone was faint-hearted, they would black out screaming that a monster had appeared, and even if they did not, they would still shout, What kind of evil sorcery is this—except—

Qing only screwed her face up hard.

If the Five Poison Sect had joined hands with the Blood Cult, then of course there had to be Blood Cult monsters.

If they hadn’t shown up, she would have felt weird about it.

Now she could have a crystal-clear conviction that the Blood Cult had smeared itself all over the Five Poison Sect.

And also, weren’t these the same bastards who didn’t match with me, running their mouths with malicious slander like I smell like something—

In that instant, the monster in front sprang up.

Like it thought it was a dolphin, it twisted its torso and slowly rotated, then raised an arm bent backward at the joint and slashed down on a diagonal.

CLANG! Qing blocked the claw, and went, Hm.

So they aren’t the monsters from Hangzhou.

Looks like there are different types of monsters, too.

Still, out of all the Blood Cult monsters she had seen so far, these were the most hideous.

Leprosy—should she call it that, like a leper? A face half-melted and rotted, and instead of sweat, dark green pus streamed down their entire bodies.

Ah, damn it—couldn’t you at least put underwear on them? What is this, some kind of visual assault?

This is obviously a poison-related monster, right?

That was the moment.

The monster, which had bounded away on all fours, worked its lips.

...Huh, no way?!

Qing split into eight with a horrified expression.

And barely—SSSST!—a green bodily fluid, blasted out like a high-pressure water jet, grazed past.

No, these things spit!

What are they, alien monsters or something?!

Still, in the moment, Qing stepped into Ripple-Wave Mystic Steps toward the monster in front—

—and slickly revealed herself in the middle of the monsters.

“KYEHEEEK!!!” “KYEHEEK!!” “KYIHHEHEEEK!!”

The naked, rotting monsters all hurled themselves at once!

But Qing’s toes were already lifted high above her head, and her left foot—black debris swirling like a vortex—drove down into the ground in a flash.

KWAANG!

The ground caved in—

—and the monsters that had been lunging through the air were crushed by a powerful pressure and slammed into the earth all at once.

Heavenly Demon Overlord Step. Eighth Step. Ten Thousand Bow Down.

All shall bow their heads to the Heavenly Demon.

She stomped the ground, yet instead of bouncing up, they were pressed down by downward pressure—an atrocious Heavenly Demon Stomp that completely ignored the laws of physics.

Of course, in the Central Plains, that cosmic mystery called energy made anything possible, apparently.

Qing’s Heavenly Demon Divine Art was still incomplete, and her own realm, compared to the Heavenly Demon, was pathetic—so even the Heavenly Demon Stomp only reached the level of stopping the enemy once.

The monsters that had been flattened like frogs sprang back up all at once.

But Qing had already jumped first—flipping her body from a higher point, then kicking off empty air and shooting forward.

Falling Meteor—meteor descent.

The tip of Moonlit Night bored into a monster’s back and pierced its heart, and the remaining force drove straight down, spearing deep into the dirt of the jungle floor.

And then, in that instant—

—the rotting monster’s body bulged and swelled, as if thick liquid were boiling inside it, ballooning wildly.

Shit. Don’t tell me this is—self-destruction—

Qing yanked her sword out in a rush, but—

SPLAT!

With a wet, indescribably sticky explosion-sound, something unpleasantly warm splashed all over her body.

At the same time, a sharp spicy stench hit her nose.

“KYEHEEK!!” “KKYEEK!!!”

“Seriously, you fight so damn dirty!”

Qing kicked off the ground and surged forward.

Five Poison Sect bastards—what kind of martial artists fight this filthy—

“There!”

BEEP! BEEEEEP—!!

Monsters, plus Five Poison Sect disciples sprinkled in.

And this was a tropical jungle already clogged in every direction with trees, brush, and thin branches.

They hid behind that, threw hidden weapons, blew and shot things from their mouths, detonated Hidden-Weapon Canisters, and if it looked like they were dropping behind, they lit that spicy poison smoke—those sticky poison pouches that burst and billowed.

And sometimes, javelins.

CLANG!

Qing knocked a javelin aside, and her gaze turned dangerous.

Her pupils had already shrunk to the size of beans, and the enlarged whites of her eyes rolled pale and glaring.

“Over there... is it over there...!”

She’d been going to treat them as “strong enough for a peak master” and be done with it.

But these bastards were crossing the line...?

Qing stomped the ground.

From Moonlit Night, crimson sword-energy already erupted with a ferocity visible to the naked eye.

SHHHRAK—Moonlit Night split the space sideways.

That sword-energy sliced through everything caught in its path—PASHASHASH!—and the great trees shook [N O V E L I G H T] off branches in a storm.

The jungle’s trees were already tangled into each other so densely that cutting them did not make them fall cleanly.

But the upper body of a Five Poison Sect disciple hiding behind them—SPLORCH—fell away, eyes bulging wide in disbelief, thrashing.

Thrash. Thrash. The thrashing disciple forced an arm into his sleeve.

Shit, again!

Qing twisted direction immediately.

RATATANG—along with the now-tedious gunpowder detonation-sounds, thick smoke bloomed behind Qing.

KYEHEEEK!!

And naked, rotting Blood Cult monsters charged through the smoke.

But sword-light flashed.

Clearly one sword, yet with a single swing, three streams of sword-energy extended outward.

It was the mental image of the One-Hundred-Eight Asura Sword, mimicking a beast’s claws.

The monsters, chopped into several pieces, rolled across the ground, and at the same time, their bodies—

—bulged and swelled, lumping and bubbling.

The instant Qing kicked off the ground again—

KWAAJIK!

The ground beneath her stamping step suddenly gave way.

Because it was a hard stamping step, her leg sank to her thigh in an instant—and at the same time, a fierce sting in front and back!

It was a simple trap using the lever principle.

When stepped on, a plank beneath rotated and struck upward with something like poison-smeared nails.

Of course, nails like that could not pierce Qing’s muscles—especially not her thigh, where the toughest muscle in her body sat.

But they could barely pierce the skin.

If she pressed and squeezed with a finger, blood would bead—that was the source of the sting.

“There were traps too?!”

Qing roared.

These despicable bastards—how could people who called themselves martial artists use traps...!

She must have been mistaken, since the trap she’d set in Zhangjiajie apparently hadn’t been a “trap,” but anyway—humans were creatures who only felt pain and injustice when it happened to them.

Qing was truly human, wasn’t she—human in the most human way.

Still, the colors that rose in streaming strands from her eyes—every color that existed, yet a color unlike any color, a baleful color that had never existed in the world—those were not very human at all.

KYEHEEK!!

A Blood Cult poison monster sprinted in on all fours.

Then—WHIP—Qing’s head snapped around at a deeply inhuman angle.

With only a little exaggeration, it was almost like it turned all the way behind her back.

Her eyes, holding that ominous star, met the monster’s pale, rotten eyeballs head-on.

KKYEEEK!!

The Blood Cult monster let out a shriek with gusto, then crawled backward in a blur, retreating fast—undoing its charge in reverse.

A striking sight, like time had been rewound—this was also one of Qing’s specialties.

But only for a moment—

DEEEENG—!!!

A massive lingering resonance, as if it shook everything around them. Behind Qing’s head, a faint, solemn halo shone.

It was the mental image of the Tathagata Divine Palm, filled with Buddhist mercy, but the head in front of that halo was so vicious that it did not match at all.

That was the moment.

SSWAAACK—!!! A javelin tore through the air, rushing straight for Qing’s head.

And—BANG!

Qing’s head jerked sideways, and the javelin spun wildly as it ricocheted away.

In that instant, something snapped inside Qing’s head.

Qing stayed with her head bent to the side, moving only her vicious eyes to look toward where the javelin had come from.

Then, on a blackened face drenched in mud and blood and poison fluid, dazzling white teeth appeared in sharp contrast, drawing a crescent.

“Huh.”

The Five Poison Sect elder who had thrown the javelin exhaled without meaning to.

And he immediately turned his body—

No, what kind of monster did those Righteous Sect bastards create?! Those who call themselves the Righteous Sect—how can they make a monster more horrifying than a Blood Cult monster?!

A righteous heroine, my ass—was there even a Killing Wraith in the world like that Killing Wraith?!

The killing intent pouring off her prickled like needles; even meeting her eyes made his knees go weak and his heart drop cold into his gut.

To the point he wondered if the world’s Slaughter Calamity Star would really look like that.

In truth, it was the Slaughter Calamity Star herself, so you could say the insight of a long-lived martial artist had fully earned the price of surviving so long.

The elder frantically put a flute to his mouth.

BREEEE—BREEEE—BREEEE!

A long-breathed flute signal, different in texture from before.

In signal calls made by flute, the kind that was this crisp and that pierced straight into the ear usually carried the most important message.

Usually, it meant retreat.

But the elder’s expression—though sickened—was not fear, and it was not the look of someone who had lost the will to fight.

Then it could be a signal for a branch point.

For example, a change of operation.

*****

—BREEEE, BREEEE.

At the formation’s center, the Five Poison Sect Chief Steward—coordinating the situation through flute signals—had his expression darken.

The worst case: a signal that the enemy’s strength was greater than expected and the Ten-Sided Ambush might be breached.

It was also a signal he had never even imagined receiving.

Still, things had not been flowing well.

The original plan was to threaten the Heavenly Flower Sword with hidden weapons and poison, driving her like a beast and making her suffer.

So that the hunted beast would suffer as much as possible—very slowly—gradually being poisoned, throwing away hope bit by bit, screaming in despair.

And in the end, she would be shoved toward the formation’s center by that beast-driving.

And then, at last, she would arrive before the Five Poison Sect Leader, and they would hold a memorial rite—drinking the enemy’s blood and soothing the disciples’ grudges.

But the plan had gone wrong from the start.

The Heavenly Flower Sword was not being chased and driven—she was acting as if she were the hunter, chasing the disciples instead.

The training had been to form a Fire Net through organic movement inside the formation, gradually driving her deeper into the formation.

But a plan could be revised.

If driving would not work, then lure.

If hunting would not work, switch to fishing.

So, after hearing the flute signal, the Chief Steward continued to pinpoint the enemy’s position while also sending signals—pouring himself into complex coordination so the disciples would draw the enemy’s attention and head as much as possible toward the formation’s center.

And in that moment—an emergency signal?

It was not as if Righteous Sect bastards had swarmed in as a huge mob, like the worst case.

It was just one person—just one—and a girl whose head-blood hadn’t even dried.

And yet it was a crisis that the ambush might be breached?

But this crisis signal could only be sent by the elders.

An elder would not have made such a judgment carelessly and blown it for nothing.

And if you assumed the worst case, then you were supposed to have preparations for it.

With that, the Chief Steward picked up a firework from atop the operations table.

Ten-Sided Ambush Stratagem, by the second contingency.