Xue Feng instructed everyone, "This Demon God Shu can only be eliminated by the fu yu sword Master. All previous sword masters have claimed to be Taishi Successors. If the heavenly secrets are not wrong, then the Taishi Successor will appear in fifty years. At that time, I will need your assistance, and I ask that you do not refuse."
Simon asked, "When you were born, was Demon God Shu already in existence?"
"Naturally."
"Then all the previous records about Demon God Shu were just rumors?"
"Ancient legends, as the name suggests." Xue Feng frowned, "I must leave, otherwise you will have to fight another bitter battle."
As he finished speaking, his resolute and massive body transformed into wind and sand, scattering away. Most strangely, the large temple also vanished with him, as if it were merely an illusion.
Simon was not surprised by this. To satisfy the consumption of Quan Hongming's demonization, the gray traces also drew a large amount of superior affinity to replenish themselves. The surrounding buildings had their fundamental existence completely hollowed out, leaving only an empty shell. Now, the superior affinity that was taken flowed back, but it could no longer return to its original form, leading to a clash and collapse.
These gray traces, representing the power of Demon God Shu, are actually inseparable from superior affinity itself, or rather, a dark aspect of superior affinity. Simon pondered for a moment and named it 'evil affinity.'
Kun Qing breathed a long sigh of relief, stretched, and said, shaking his head, "Little monk, this time it's a draw! Let's gamble again when we have time. This Taoist is going back to heal his wounds!" He gracefully walked towards Quan Suhuan, bowed before her, and said, "Quan Family Head, I have not failed in my mission! This calamity has passed. From now on, Quan Manor will be peaceful and safe. As long as you do more good deeds, your descendants will surely be blessed."
Quan Suhuan's face was pale. She had not yet recovered from the heart-wrenching wails earlier. She managed to return a bow, forcing a smile, "Thank you, two masters, for saving me. I never expected such a disaster to befall my family... But, Master, is my elder brother truly dead now?"
Kun Qing stroked his beard, "When a body is possessed by a manifestation of Demon God Shu, it naturally turns to dust. The soul also finds it difficult to reincarnate and can only suffer eternally under the evil demon."
Quan Suhuan's expression was complex, but she certainly showed not even a hint of happiness.
"Alright, I understand. Master, please return to the manor to rest. I will send you medicine later."
"The Manor Head is too kind. This humble Taoist takes his leave."
Simon stared into the void. A soul entangled with evil affinity quietly floated there; it was Quan Hongming.
He was like the shade of a tree at noon, mottled and corroded by gray traces, yet he remained peaceful.
Quan Hongming silently gazed at Quan Suhuan.
His time was short; the evil affinity was pulling him beneath the superior affinity, into the depths of a world no one could peer into.
Simon bound Quan Hongming with his mind.
This lonely soul seemed very surprised. He turned to look at Simon, and he tried hard to see through the surface—a sun!
Quan Hongming trembled. The downcast Bodhisattva, the peaceful world, evolved in His palm.
"Please, Bodhisattva, help this humble one!" Quan Hongming cried, "This humble one only wishes to speak a few more words to his little sister, Quan Suhuan."
Simon beckoned to him. The soul flew into his palm, and superior affinity surged in. Quan Hongming transformed into a tiny speck of light, like a pure white seed covered in gray spots.
Creation always gives people a glimmer of hope.
And Simon, he was creation.
Mo Yun walked over and asked him, "Now that things are resolved, shouldn't we leave?"
"If you want to seek revenge, I'll wait for you for a day."
"That's enough."
The swordsman left with his sword, giving Quan Suhuan a slight nod. As for Ning Baiyi, he pretended not to see her.
Simon looked up at the sky.
This winter is truly long.
... ...
Late at night, the swordsman walked through the mountain stronghold.
His steps were elegant and light, as if he were strolling through a garden, rather than a bandit's den in a poor, harsh land.
The Dragon Slayer Sword, like a shimmering clear light from a river, danced gently.
Under the waning moon, standing on the cliff, one could vaguely see the silent, dark figures of distant villages. The mountain forest was dead silent; the cold wind had already harvested all life that loved to chirp. Now, only ice and snow were the greatest language, and their whispers were certainly not benevolent.
Every winter, some people couldn't make it, their lives silently fading away.
Mo Yun gazed at the wilderness with a melancholic look, then suddenly blocked with his sword.
Clang—
A silently attacking iron dart was parried, spinning and reflecting a blue glow, before falling into the abyss and disappearing without a trace.
The swordsman said softly, "So eager to die?"
Behind him stood a man in plain clothes, eyes gleaming ferociously, gritting his teeth, "The brothers in the stronghold were all killed by you, not a single one left. Tonight, I will share your fate!"
"You came too late, you wasted too much of my time. But luckily, this vast moonlight pleases me greatly."
Mo Yun turned around, looking at the familiar face of his opponent, whose features were also clearly visible in the moonlight.
"It's you! You're not dead!"
"Surprised? That's right." The swordsman smiled, his gaze icy, "This is why you failed."
The man dressed as a farmer was one of the bandits who had ambushed Mo Yun from behind that day.
"Good! Today, it's just a matter of killing you again! What's so hard about that?" With that, he pulled out a medicine bottle from his waist, opened the wooden stopper, and fiercely swung it towards Mo Yun.
A large cloud of poison powder scattered, like a dense mist. Mo Yun sighed lightly, "Such clumsy poisoning techniques. What a waste of these good poisons!"
He ducked through the poisonous mist, directly meeting a pair of crimson palms, radiating heat like a branding iron.
"Fulong Altar's Bone Forging Fist? Not bad at all!"
His casual comment, made from a position of superiority, infuriated his opponent.
The bandit couldn't hit him, just like the other thugs.
This should have been a battle without suspense, and the initial bandit suppression should also have been a battle without suspense.
Unfortunately, he was stabbed three times from behind.
An unnecessary humiliation, an unnecessary injury.
Mo Yun wanted them to truly feel this humiliation!
The moonlight unknowingly dimmed.
The numb bandits, panting, stood in place.
The long sword gently pierced his chest.
He fell to the ground, twitching a few times, his blood soaking the earth.
What a solitary peak, rugged and undulating, now with an added river, a river of blood.
One hundred and thirty-four people, not one less.
They were gurgling springs of blood, fallen everywhere.
These flowing, dried crimson liquids slid down the mountain, washing away sin and humiliation.
The high mountain wept blood, the swordsman was silent.
Mo Yun found all his belongings.
A broken sword, a jade zither, a token.
He also found some gold and silver.
He caressed the objects in his hands, "Welcome home."
... ...
Simon and Mo Yun bid farewell to Quan Manor.
"Where are we going?"
"No, it should be, where do you want to go?"
The swordsman asked the monk, "Is there a difference?"
"Yes, the path ahead, I'm afraid you won't be able to bear it."
"There's nothing that will make me afraid."
"That's good."
The young novice monk glowed all over, his body grew, a pair of lush and beautiful jade-white antlers sprouted from his forehead, his dark hair was coiled into a snail-shell bun, his face was majestic and benevolent—what a living Bodhisattva!
Mo Yun was silent for a long time.
"I must be dreaming..."
"Let's go, don't just stand there."
"Where to?"
"Kunlun."
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