Vengeance

Earlier, when he met Yuan Hu, Qin Sang had noticed something unusual about the tattoos on the two Tianyue Stockade priests. Only now, watching the priestess dance, did he get a clear look at the full picture. "Could it be a type of divine pattern?" Qin Sang muttered, staring intently at the priestess. He discovered that once the divine patterns surfaced on her skin, an unprecedented, peculiar power drifted over from the Witch Clan mortals in the distance. Some converged upon the priestess, while another portion drifted into the mountains to be absorbed by other priests of Yihui Stockade. After absorbing this power, the divine patterns on the priestess showed a distinct enhancement. *Whoosh!* The power of the divine patterns erupted. The priestess suddenly raised her arms as though driven mad, uttering strange cries and shouting toward the heavens, as if wishing to soar into the sky. The moon remained bright. Yet around Yihui Stockade, a fine drizzle began to fall. The Witch Clan mortals cheered, revering it as sweet rain bestowed by the Witch God. One after another, they tilted their faces upward, opening their mouths to catch the drops. "What a peculiar divine pattern!" Qin Sang was greatly amazed. He had thought the shamanic sacrifice was merely a means for Witch Clan cultivators to rule mortals, but now it seemed far from simple. The rain was clearly summoned by the priestess, yet Qin Sang had not detected her using any incantations. It was purely the power of the divine patterns stirring celestial phenomena. To Qin Sang, the power of the divine patterns on the priestess was very weak, but he could tell it was extraordinary—likely an ability unique to the Witch Clan. In fact, compared to natal insect gu, Qin Sang felt that divine patterns possessed even greater potential. A natal insect gu was an external object, whereas divine patterns were one with the cultivator—a power commanded entirely by oneself. Yet for some reason, Witch Clan cultivators seemed to view natal insect gu as their most vital means, paying far less heed to divine patterns. In fact, Yuan Hu and Cui Xuanzi of Five Insects Sect had no divine patterns on their bodies at all. Why had the Five Insects Sect abandoned a path so obviously suited to Witch Clan cultivators? Did divine patterns have no future? Or had the Witch Clan, just like the human race, lost much of their heritage between ancient times and the present day? Qin Sang fell into thought. Right then, the priestess shifted into another shamanic dance, and the drizzle gradually subsided. She pointed toward the wooden building by the lake, and the moonlight across the sky converged there, illuminating the front of the wooden building as bright as day. There, the 'Holy Maidens' clad in gorgeous feather garments, each pure and beautiful, held various exotic flowers and herbs in their hands. Arranged in a line, guided by the moonlight, they walked toward the mountain. These exotic flowers and herbs were all different spirit herbs. In the hands of the foremost Holy Maiden was a spirit herb with blood-red leaves—precisely the Redleaf Grass. They followed a flight of stone steps upward to a cave entrance at the top. The interior of the cave was pitch-black, from which strange hissing sounds came from time to time. Some of the Holy Maidens turned pale with fright, though others still harbored anticipation. No one noticed that the Holy Maiden walking at the very front had hands trembling slightly as she held the Redleaf Grass. Qin Sang stood silently in the dark with his hands behind his back. At last, the procession of Holy Maidens reached the cave entrance. The foremost Holy Maiden needed only to take a single step to enter the cave, yet she suddenly came to a halt. The priestess had not anticipated this. Her dance paused, fury flashing in her eyes as she pointed at the Holy Maiden. Moonlight converged behind the maiden, about to push her inside. Suddenly, an astonishing azure sword light burst from the Holy Maiden! In that instant, even the bright moon in the sky lost its luster. A sword howl like a dragon's roar instantly drowned out the rumbling war drums, echoing across the boundless mountains and ravines as if countless sharp swords were being unsheathed, shaking heaven and earth! The priestess turned pale with horror. From the mountains came a furious shout like thunder. "Who dares disrupt our clan's grand ceremony! Roll out here!" Then trees shook as several figures dashed out from the dense forest. The leading old man was seething with rage, glaring fixedly at Yagu and the Cold Metal sword in her hands. With his discernment, he could naturally tell that the sword was not being controlled by Yagu—someone else was pulling the strings in the shadows! Yet what unsettled the old man was that he could not sense anyone hiding in the surroundings at all, nor could he detect the hidden figure's presence through the Cold Metal sword. Having someone infiltrate the stockade without anyone noticing deepened the old man's unease. He bellowed, "Bone array!" Around Yihui Stockade, clattering sounds suddenly rose from underground. Skeleton after skeleton broke through the soil—some beast bones, some human, none of them complete. The ghastly white bones appeared all the more pale and eerie beneath the moonlight, reducing many of the young maidens to tears of terror. As the bone array manifested, blossoms of shimmering blue flames suddenly drifted out from between the bones. Like an azure river of stars, seemingly slow yet deceptively swift, they floated toward Yagu. Yagu seemed to hear nothing and see nothing. Gripping the Cold Metal sword tightly with both hands, she slashed furiously toward the cave. The sword light was blinding, making it impossible to look directly at it. *Boom!* With a tremendous crash, the cave collapsed. Shattered stone sprayed in every direction, mingled with several serpent corpses severed in two. "No!" The old man, the priestess, and the others turned deathly pale and screamed in agony. Their natal insect gu had been effortlessly severed by this single strike, entirely powerless to resist. They were terrified, realizing that the person in the dark was utterly terrifying and could slaughter them with ease. Abandoning the bone array without a second thought, they turned and fled. Yagu turned around and swung a second strike, dispelling the bone array's blue flames. At the third strike, Yagu hesitated for an instant before decisively cutting forward. "All of you deserve to die!" Yagu's eyes were blood-red. The precious sword in her hands and the man in the shadows gave her the courage for vengeance, finally venting the hatred in her heart. Even in a curse, her voice was melodious and pleasant to hear, though aside from Qin Sang, no one was in the mood to appreciate it. The priestess had already fled to the middle of the lake when she suddenly felt a chill across her chest. Looking down, she saw the tip of a sword sweep through her torso. Her head separated from her body, tumbling into the lake. Clutching the Cold Metal sword, Yagu had killed her first person. Spattered with the priestess's blood, she panted heavily. The suffocating stench of blood enveloped her, nearly choking her. Qin Sang remained cold and unyielding, shielding her from none of the blood. Those three strikes seemed to have exhausted Yagu's strength, yet she still strained with all her might, resolutely raising the Cold Metal sword and pointing it toward the old man and the others fleeing into the depths of the mountains. *Swoosh!* Carrying Yagu with it, the Cold Metal sword caught up to them in an instant. The first to die was the slick young man, decapitated with a single blow, his head flying into the air. One by one, the priests of Yihui Stockade were slain by Yagu. Blood dyed the leaves along the trail red. In the end, only the old man remained. Full of resentment, he cried out frantically, "Who on earth are you?! We have no enmity between us, so why slaughter everyone here?!" *Pfft!* The Cold Metal sword pierced right through the old man's heart. "Kill! Kill! Kill!" With eyes crimson and her mind consumed by killing intent, Yagu chanted the word "kill" without stopping. Pulling out the Cold Metal sword, she was about to hack the old man's corpse to pieces, still struggling even as a hand caught and held her. "Sleep." Hearing that gentle voice, the killing intent in Yagu's heart immediately receded like a tidal wave. She obediently closed her eyes and sank into a deep slumber.