Chapter 24#

Asking for Help#

Two days later, the investigation results came back. Sure enough, nearly thirty or forty people had died suddenly near Qingdu Mountain in the past month, and not a few had been crying out about heart pain before dying.

Feng Xianyu, who had been yawning the whole time, finally snapped awake at this news and asked, “Were the bodies examined?”

“Most have already been buried, so it’s hard to perform an autopsy.” The elder in charge, surnamed Zhao, replied, “After much inquiry, we found five families willing to open the coffins to determine the cause of death.”

“What were the results?” Feng Qianqiu asked.

“Those bodies had already begun to rot. Two showed no abnormalities—they really did die suddenly—but the other three were different. Yu’er was not mistaken.” Elder Zhao’s expression grew grave. “Only the flesh around the heart was intact. Our disciples cut open the chests; even the hearts were whole, but…”

He paused, his tone strained. “Growing out of the heart was a… dark red flower.”

Just imagining that scene was eerie enough. Feng Xianyu couldn’t suppress a shudder. The elders’ expressions twisted as if a sinister wind had swept through the lofty hall.

Feng Qianqiu rose from his seat, sweeping his robes aside as he descended the steps. At the same time, the scholar’s corpse was carried back into the hall.

For the past two days, the body had been sealed in an ice coffin, slowing decomposition. Still, blue-purple livor mortis had set in, and dark green, tree-like veins spread across the surface. However, the chest area remained largely unchanged from two days prior, except that the swollen “purple grape” seemed to have grown glossier.

Feng Xianyu frowned. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Feng Qianqiu take out a dagger and immediately reached out to stop him. The word “Father” circled on the tip of his tongue before he changed his address: “…Master, let me do it.”

Feng Qianqiu gently shook his head and pushed Feng Xianyu aside.

He struck swiftly, slicing the “purple grape” in two. Semi-coagulated black blood oozed out, revealing a small, plum-like ball embedded within. Feng Qianqiu picked it out from the scholar’s chest. It fell to the ground with a thud and rolled far away, coated in sticky blood. Everyone couldn’t help stepping back.

“…It’s a flower bud!” someone exclaimed in horror a moment later.

Feng Qianqiu stared down at it for two breaths, then flung the dagger aside with a sharp crack, his brows tightly knit.

Feng Xianyu crouched down, suppressing his nausea, and studied the flower bud up close. He couldn’t identify its species—it resembled a camellia but was smaller, its color deeper, and the petals had an unnaturally tender texture.

What good flower could grow from a human heart?

Suddenly, a pair of snow-white boots entered his field of vision.

It was Zhuo Yu.

He had been in the hall the entire time without offering any opinion. Now he stepped forward, not only avoiding the bloodstains left by the rolling bud but even stepping carelessly on them.

Feng Xianyu’s brows shot up. He felt a strong urge to yank Zhuo Yu away immediately. His throat worked, but he held back. Then he heard Zhuo Yu speak, his voice carrying an icy quality: “Is this a disease? Or poison?”

This question jolted everyone.

Elder Zhao snapped out of his daze and immediately sent for a high-level disciple versed in medicine from Qingdu Mountain.

In the “all-encompassing” mountain, disciples specialized in everything—including medicine, though few in number. After the time it takes an incense stick to burn, a female cultivator in green robes arrived. A simple wooden hairpin held her hair in place; she looked travel-worn, as if she had just returned from beyond the mountain. She had already been briefed on the situation before entering, but her face still paled at the sight of the scholar’s deformed corpse and the flower bud.

“Disciple Gongye Ruo,” she introduced herself.

Feng Xianyu remembered her. In his past life, after the calamity at Qingdu Mountain, the mountain had been filled with robe cultivators, mostly from Xuanji Mountain. Gongye Ruo was one of the few Qingdu Mountain disciples among them. Later, when the Xuanji Mountain people withdrew, only Gongye Ruo remained to work. When he was imprisoned by Zhuo Yu in the cave dwelling on the peak, Gongye Ruo had come to check on him, which was why he remembered her.

After bowing, Gongye Ruo first picked up the flower bud and placed it in a small dish. Then she leaned over the ice coffin to examine the body. The smell was foul; everyone turned their faces away. After several rounds, she returned to the center and bowed, saying, “This disciple is incompetent.”

“You can’t tell anything at all?” Feng Qianqiu asked.

Gongye Ruo said shamefacedly, “The sudden death was indeed caused by this flower. It grows inside the heart, sucking bone and blood, and takes life when it’s about to bloom. But as for what kind of flower it is, this disciple truly cannot identify. I dare to suggest—this evil trick is too grave; we must send word to Xuanji Mountain.”

Elder Zhao turned worriedly to Feng Qianqiu. “Sect Leader!”

The others joined Elder Zhao in petitioning Feng Qianqiu.

Feng Qianqiu’s brow furrowed into a deep “ river ” shape. His index finger tapped lightly on the armrest in a rhythm that set everyone on edge.

The elders awaited his command. Feng Xianyu was about to speak when his ear caught a distant sharp cry. He jerked his head toward the hall’s entrance. Zhuo Yu made the same move at the same time.

The others were bewildered. Feng Xianyu hushed them gently.

A moment later, a flash of green light pierced the sky. A gold-green spiritual talisman whistled through the air, like a dove at the end of its rope, covered in wounds, blood dripping as it flew straight into Feng Xianyu’s hand. On it were three glaring, sharp blood marks.

For an instant, everyone’s expressions went blank. Then someone exclaimed in shock, “The triple-finger blood seal! It’s the Blue Sparrow Gate’s distress signal!”

The talisman hadn’t even settled in Feng Xianyu’s hand before it exploded without pause. A formation spread with a whoosh, spiritual light soaring into the sky.

In the center appeared the phantom of a tall, young cultivator in a wide-sleeved golden robe.

It was Kong Yan.

Blue Sparrow Gate’s attire was always ostentatious—the more elaborate, the better; the more precious, the better. The young master’s dharma robe was naturally dazzling, the gold thread blinding to the eye. Kong Yan carried it well, always presenting himself as a perfect young gentleman, exuding youthful vigor and heroic spirit.

Now, his young master’s golden robe was tattered, ragged, and stained with blood.

Even Kong Yan himself looked exhausted and dejected. He raked his disheveled hair back with his hand, planted his sword on the ground, and said hoarsely, “Yu’er, I can only turn to you!”

This phantom wasn’t real-time. It spoke only one hurried sentence before fading away. Along with the talisman came a small fragment of Kong Yan’s memory.

Very short—only a few seconds.

From the background, it seemed to be a grand hall draped in red cloth. Many people lay in pools of blood.

In Kong Yan’s field of vision, a cultivator wearing Blue Sparrow Gate robes was thrusting a sword at him.

The cultivator’s face was twisted in fury, but his body was limp. His limbs were contorted unnaturally, as if all the bones had been crushed by some heavy weight. Only thin skin connected the joints. His right hand was missing two fingers, yet the hand gripping the sword was still so steady! So fierce!

Through the cultivator’s chest was a gaping hole. His heart was missing.

In its place—a dark red flower in full bloom.

The moment everyone saw the flower, their faces darkened completely. The hall fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. The next second, the memory cut off. The formation dissolved like wind and clouds, turning into a tiny feather that drifted into Feng Xianyu’s palm. Zhuo Yu narrowed his eyes silently.

Feng Xianyu’s face darkened. He remembered now—Kong Yan had indeed mentioned that his cousin’s wedding was in three months.

The triple-finger blood seal, made with essence blood and drawn with three fingers simultaneously, was a distress signal that cultivators almost never used. Now the young master of Blue Sparrow Gate was using it to beg Feng Xianyu for help! Clearly, Blue Sparrow Gate was in serious trouble. But should Qingdu Mountain intervene?

This matter was extremely sensitive.

The elders exchanged glances. Cold sunlight swept across every blue brick of the hall. Even Gongye Ruo felt an invisible string tighten in the air. After a moment, Feng Xianyu swept his gaze over them and sneered, “My friend, none of your concern.”

With that, he turned and strode away.

One of the elders looked awkward. “We didn’t say we wouldn’t go, after all.”

“Exactly, exactly,” someone chimed in. “Young people are too impatient.”

Feng Qianqiu said nothing. In the silence, the elders suddenly heard a light laugh. They looked at each other in confusion, only to see that Zhuo Yu had also stepped out of the crowd and was walking out the main gate. Only then did they realize that laugh had come from that sword cultivator who never showed emotion in front of others!

Half an hour later, at the mountain gate of Qingdu Mountain.

Feng Xianyu spotted two figures in the distance. He didn’t need to guess to know it was Feng Qianqiu and Zhuo Yu.

He trudged over, lowered his head, and said proactively, “Dad, I’m sorry.”

“You—ah, forget it!” Feng Qianqiu sighed deeply and tapped him lightly on the forehead. “You just bully your father for being unable to leave.”

Feng Xianyu rubbed his head.

“Qingdu Mountain has too many people; I can’t keep everyone in check,” Feng Qianqiu said. “I understand a young man going all out for his friend, but you need to protect your own life too—for my sake, alright?”

Feng Xianyu: “…I know, Dad.”

“Alright, go early and return early.” Feng Qianqiu handed him a qiankun pouch and brushed his brow. “Fight if you can; if you can’t win, run, got it? There are life-saving talismans and medicines inside. Don’t scrimp—use them as needed. I’ve also sealed a sword intent of a flying feather for you; use it in an emergency.”

Feng Xianyu answered softly. To hide his emotions, he lowered his head and rummaged through the qiankun pouch for a flying treasure. He searched for a while without finding one, when he heard the sound of Lingzhao Sword being drawn.

Feng Xianyu looked up sharply and met Zhuo Yu’s gaze. He hadn’t said a word, but Feng Xianyu unexpectedly sensed something from the otherwise emotionless eyes. Startled, he asked on impulse, “You…”

Before he could finish, Zhuo Yu made a sword seal. Lingzhao Sword buzzed and rose into the air.

Feng Xianyu understood. “…”

Well, at least he wouldn’t have to look for the missing flying treasure.

“With Zhuo Yu going too, I’m relieved,” Feng Qianqiu said, as if implying something. “I always said you two grew up together, after all!”

The two of them flew on the sword, arriving at the Blue Sparrow Gate territory only by midnight.

Feng Xianyu had been dozing against Zhuo Yu. Though riding a sword at night was cold, Zhuo Yu’s back radiated a strange warmth that made him drowsy.

A gust of cold wind woke him somewhat. His mind still foggy, he lost his balance and tilted sideways.

In his past life, he had also fallen from a great height. Reliving that old nightmare, the blood in Feng Xianyu’s veins turned to ice.

Fortunately, Zhuo Yu was quick. He turned and caught him just in time, his hand landing across Feng Xianyu’s waist. They were suddenly very close—close enough for Zhuo Yu to see Feng Xianyu’s eyelashes.

Feng Xianyu gasped for breath in Zhuo Yu’s arms. The nape of his slender neck was hidden beneath his red robes; his lashes were wet with cold sweat. His face was deathly pale, almost translucent under the moonlight. He had bitten his lip so hard it bled. It took him a long moment to recover, then he reached out to push Zhuo Yu away.

The fingers pressing against Feng Xianyu’s lower back suddenly tensed—so tight they trembled slightly, held at an odd degree.

For an instant, or maybe a thousand autumns, but in the end, Zhuo Yu stepped back.

“We’re here. Pretty fast.” Feng Xianyu looked down, adjusting his collar, and said casually to change the subject.

Zhuo Yu glanced at him as if nothing had happened. “Mm.”

Below them, the Blue Sparrow Gate buildings loomed tall with glazed golden roofs, as grand as an imperial palace. Now, they were utterly silent, not even a single lamp in sight. Ordinary people might not see it, but in Feng Xianyu’s eyes, a towering spiritual array spanning the heavens stood between earth and sky, sealing every inch of Blue Sparrow Gate’s territory without a gap.

“They’ve actually activated the mountain-sealing order!” Feng Xianyu pressed a hand to his lower back, frowning.

“Once the Blue Sparrow seal is activated, no living thing—immortal, demon, human, or beast—can take a single step beyond the forbidden zone,” Zhuo Yu said flatly. “Blue Sparrow Gate hasn’t used this order in a hundred years.”

“Looks like this is no small matter.” Feng Xianyu lowered his voice. “We’ll sneak in.”

Saying this, he pulled the green feather from his sleeve. This was the token Kong Yan had sent to him. Zhuo Yu voiced no objection. In the darkness, the spiritual array silently opened a tiny gap, allowing the two to slip through.