Chapter Eighty-One: Loss of Inner Strength

He didn't know how much time had passed before Su Bai awoke on a strange continent.

The buildings around him seemed to have been engulfed in a great fire, the very earth still reeking of scorched remains.

“What happened here? Though Bingzhou is a borderland, how could it be left in such ruin?” Su Bai whispered in disbelief as he took in the devastation surrounding him.

A sudden ache flooded his body. He tried to rise, hoping to better understand his predicament, but even standing proved a daunting effort.

“What on earth is going on?” Su Bai muttered, his mind clouded. “Soul-Seizing Incense shouldn’t last more than seven days for someone at my level; even if the Grand Elder enhanced the dose, it wouldn’t exceed half a month. Besides… where is Gu Fanshuang?”

Only then did he realize something was terribly wrong. He glanced about, but Gu Fanshuang was nowhere to be seen.

He tried to channel his internal energy to heal his battered body, but the moment he started, agony exploded from his core, nearly forcing a scream from his throat. Sweat poured down his face as he collapsed, pain racking his body until it finally faded.

“My inner power! Why can’t I use it?” Panic rose in his heart. “Wait, I still have the map…”

He desperately searched his clothing for the map, but his hands found nothing. A chill ran down his spine. “This is bad.”

He stared blankly for a long time, struggling to accept reality. When it finally sank in, he sighed and—strangely—began to laugh, shaking his head. “Ha, ha! Wonderful, just wonderful.”

Hunger gnawed at his belly, his mouth parched. Without the support of his internal power and having gone without food for so long, even a five-year-old child might be stronger than he was now.

“To think I could return within half a year in this state… what a joke.” The bitter smile faded from his lips as he braced himself on trembling arms, forcing his body upright.

Gazing at the desolation, Su Bai could only wander aimlessly, searching for any sign of life.

“I have to find someone to ask directions, maybe even some food. Otherwise, I doubt I’ll survive to see tomorrow’s sun.” He squinted at the blazing midday sky, his brows furrowed. This was a situation he had never once imagined.

As he passed a charred building, his ears caught the distant thunder of hooves. Instinct warned him of danger, and he quickly retreated behind the house.

Though dizzy with hunger and drained of power, his body was still that of a warrior at the ninth stage of Bone Refinement—stronger than most ordinary men.

He listened intently as the hoofbeats grew clearer. Flattening himself behind the building, Su Bai made himself as inconspicuous as possible.

When the riders began to speak, Su Bai felt a profound shock.

“That’s the language of the Mongol Yuan Khaganate. Could the border have been breached? Impossible! The frontier has been calm for years, and the border army numbers four or five hundred thousand. How could the Great Wall fall so easily? And why now of all times?”

A surge of frustration made him want to curse. Why did calamity always seem to find him?

Only after the horsemen had passed did Su Bai force himself upright, watching their retreat with a sinking heart. He was unfamiliar with Bingzhou’s terrain and no longer knew where he was.

He pressed on southward. Along the roadside, corpses grew ever more numerous, the living cowering in corners, wide-eyed and helpless.

Many were too exhausted to sleep, knowing that if they closed their eyes, they might never wake again. Should anyone faint, the others would descend like wolves, tearing apart the unfortunate soul for sustenance.

Whether the victim awoke from pain was of no concern; at times like these, the paper-thin veneer of morality shattered—survival was all that mattered.

Such horrors were inevitable; though the thought was revolting, who could expect reason to triumph when hunger drove men mad?

Su Bai passed a group boiling something in a pot; the smell of meat made his belly rumble. He knew all too well what kind of flesh simmered within, yet could only smile bitterly and trudge on.

He was reminded of something his grandmother used to say when he was a child.

During the famine years, people ate bark, bamboo leaves, even grass roots. There was an old woman whose mouth watered at the sight of her daughter-in-law’s flesh, but reason held her hand—for a while. She hurried her daughter-in-law home, afraid she might not be able to restrain herself. But in the end, the poor woman was devoured alive by her own mother.

His grandmother had once said she barely survived those times; to live in peace was no easy thing.

Weariness overtook Su Bai, and he felt his strength failing. He was about to rest when he sensed two people following him.

He sighed inwardly, “I must look too weak—like easy prey.”

The two men behind him looked very much alike—twins, no doubt. They hadn’t eaten in two or three days; their last meal had been… the neighbor’s newborn.

Their interest in Su Bai was simple: he was spent, young, and apparently ignorant of conserving his strength. All they had to do was wait.

For them, eating human flesh had become routine. The first time was hard, but after the second, the only feeling left was hunger. Could they ever go back to chewing bark and grass roots?

Su Bai understood this well, so he made no attempt to reason with them. Instead, his pace quickened, which only excited the twins further.

His apparent fear, and the dwindling number of people around, meant they wouldn’t have to share their “meal.” The brothers exchanged a glance, hunger gleaming in their eyes.

They followed Su Bai as the bodies thinned, until finally, not a soul remained.

At last, Su Bai stopped. He’d reached a dead end, and there was no reason to flee any further.

He had avoided confronting them in the crowd for two reasons: killing them would leave him utterly spent, and he had no intention of sharing the spoils.

“Why aren’t you moving, boy?” one twin sneered.

The other licked his lips. “Brother, this one’s tender—he’ll taste good.”

“I wonder if you two can still call yourselves human,” Su Bai replied coolly.

Their words stirred no fear in him; he’d faced despair too many times to be troubled by this petty threat.

“Human or not, you’ll be our meal tonight,” one said, licking his lips.

Instead of growing tense, Su Bai relaxed, his voice unhurried. “That’s good. Your words put me at ease.”

“Ease about what?” The twins hesitated, sensing something amiss in Su Bai’s calm.

“Because I’m hungry too,” he replied.

As the words fell, Su Bai’s right hand darted behind him, and with a gentle tug, a web of nearly invisible threads yanked several darts from above, sending them whistling toward the brothers’ skulls.

The darts, weighted at the rear, flew back toward him, the sharp tips aimed directly at their heads.

Two lives ended in an instant.

When Su Bai had passed a certain corner, he’d already launched the darts into the wall above. Walking in the sunlight, the faint threads were invisible to the twins, whose eyes saw only the promise of fresh meat and the gnawing drive of hunger. It was this that made Su Bai’s victory so effortless.

Slowly, he retrieved his wires and darts, sighing in relief. “Thank goodness my hidden weapons were still with me. Otherwise, I’d have no way to defend myself.”

Naturally, he would make “practical use” of their corpses.

“It’s a pity there’s no seasoning here, nor any way to fry the meat—otherwise, it might have some taste.” Su Bai tore off a chunk, eating without hesitation.

At such times, to fuss over what one eats would be self-defeating. Su Bai was no saint, and with these two practically delivering themselves to his door—and admitting they were no longer human—he felt no remorse eating them.

After forcing down a meal, Su Bai devoured the flesh so fast he barely tasted it.

Patting his stomach, he laughed. “So this is what eating human flesh feels like?”

Though there was a tinge of unease, he was fundamentally unaffected. No wonder people say that laws and morals bind only those who have enough to eat.

Without further thought, Su Bai left the dead end and continued south. As for the unfinished pot of meat, he left it for whoever might come next.

This experience, however, taught him not to act so conspicuously. Crowds attracted trouble, wasting precious energy and making it easy for marauders to spot him. Killing two defenseless men meant little—the true danger lay with armed soldiers on horseback.

“I’d better become a creature of the night. It’ll save a lot of trouble,” he mused.

He soon chose a ruined house for shelter, sitting cross-legged to recover his strength.

After burning a stick of incense’s time, Su Bai spoke with some frustration: “Who knows when this seal will break? Without inner power, there’s no way I’ll make it out of Bingzhou.”

He tried once more to unlock the seal on his energy center, but no matter what method he used, it wouldn’t budge. Last time, his reckless attempt had nearly made him faint from pain; this time, he tried to proceed slowly.

Yet the lock was even more stubborn than he’d imagined.

While he fretted, elsewhere someone else was searching for him in haste.

It was his master from the Grand Yan Sect—Xi Menghe.

Xi Menghe had no idea where Su Bai was hiding; he came only because of the directions in a letter he’d received.

“Could Sun Tong, that old schemer, have deceived me? Why is Bingzhou in such chaos? Would Blood River House really send disciples here now?” All Xi Menghe saw was devastation, making him doubt the letter’s authenticity.

Sun Tong, the Fifth Elder of Blood River House, had been an old friend. Outwardly, Xi Menghe was amiable, but in secret, he was a man of many dark dealings. Sensing they were not kindred spirits, Sun Tong had cut ties early to avoid trouble.

But Xi Menghe, ever cunning, had long since collected evidence of Sun Tong’s weaknesses, intending to use them one day. Despite Sun Tong’s caution, he was only human and eventually slipped. This set the stage for everything now unfolding.

Xi Menghe began with gentle persuasion; when that failed, he produced incriminating evidence—and a generous sum of gold and jewels. At last, Sun Tong agreed to help and promised to send word.

A month ago, Xi Menghe received Sun Tong’s intelligence. He secretly changed Su Bai’s trial location from Chanzhou to Bingzhou, and deliberately arranged for the lecherous Lu Hao to escort them, ensuring that Su Bai and Gu Fanshuang would be separated.

Whether Gu Fanshuang would remain unharmed was no longer his concern.

He knew the sect leader seemed to favor Gu Fanshuang and would likely send a trusted guardian—who would almost certainly be himself.

This trip to Chanzhou could be passed off as a leisurely excursion; if he returned empty-handed, he could simply claim there had been some mistake. With Gu Fanshuang’s abilities, she would almost certainly return to Blood River House—he needn’t worry for her safety.

Xi Menghe’s clouded eyes gazed toward the horizon. It was dusk, and searching further would have to wait until morning.

“First, I’ll find a place to rest. That boy can’t have gone far; by tomorrow, he’ll be in my grasp.”

Seeing an abandoned house ahead, Xi Menghe strode inside without hesitation.

But before his foot hit the ground, twin flashes of white streaked toward his head from either side.

He instantly sensed his foot catch on a fine thread—a trap had been triggered.

With a sweep of his hand, he snatched both darts from the air. Examining the “Blood” character engraved on their shafts, a wicked grin creased his wrinkled face, making him look like a vengeful ghost in the deepening twilight.

“Good disciple, your master has come for you!”