The Zither in the Moonlit Tower, Part 4

Killing intent surged forward.
The blood-red sword’s edge flashed, igniting Yun Yao’s vision.

From the figure’s self-revelation to drawing their blade, only a moment passed. He Fengming, standing beside Yun Yao, barely reacted before a palm wind shoved him aside.

*Crack.*
The instant his figure flew into the temple, the wooden door where he stood shattered under a blood-red sword light.

Splinters scattered, barely settling as the blood-red blade swept horizontally, aiming to cleave the dodging red-robed girl.

“Little Martial Aunt, be careful—he’s Faceless!” He Fengming blurted out.

*Clang—*

Amid the crisp clash of spiritual swords, Yun Yao frowned, parrying the sword’s glow while retorting irritably, “He’s practically in my face—think I can’t see if he has one?”

“No! He’s the young lord of Vermilion Sparrow City, the Blood Demon, Faceless!”

As He Fengming spoke, he reached for his sword, only to grasp air. The sound of clashing blades rang out, and he looked up.
Yun Yao wielded a familiar spiritual sword.
…His.

In mere breaths, she’d countered a dozen of the opponent’s moves, each one urgent but not lethal. Yun Yao’s brow furrowed.

She hadn’t heard of “Faceless,” likely a new Demon Realm power risen in the past three hundred years. For a Soul Transformation elder familiar with his own disciples to miss him, he had to be at least Void Refining realm. Her current body, post-deviation, was only Void Refining at best in a life-or-death fight. Why was he using only close-combat, rapid strikes instead of killing blows?

—Wait.
Close-combat?

Her divine sense stretched to its limit, and her face changed.

Within a hundred zhang, countless Nightmare Beasts surged across the mountain, stirring a black tide under the moonlight.
Their twisted, snow-white Nightmare Threads blanketed the sky, a tide devouring the moon.

They meant to bury all who knew, no matter the cost.

“Everyone else, into the array—now!” Yun Yao shouted. “He’s stalling!”

She wasn’t alone in noticing. As her voice rang out, a sword wind flashed from the side. Borrowing Yun Yao’s strike, He Fengming, wielding a sword “borrowed” from a Xuankong disciple, forced Faceless back.
“Little Martial Aunt, go—I’ll anchor the array.”

Before she could respond, He Fengming charged, his figure darting. His aura surged to Soul Transformation’s peak, a fierce sword technique pressing Faceless into the temple—some secret art had forcibly boosted his cultivation.

For the first time, the impassive red-robed girl showed a flicker of life in her expression.
She raised an eyebrow.

“Really ready to die? No regrets?”

Having forced Faceless back and turning to activate the Mountain-Shifting Array, He Fengming nearly spat blood seeing Yun Yao still standing there.
Seniority be damned, he slashed the air with a shout. “Yun Yaojiu! Why are you still wasting words!?”

—Faceless was too strong; his Ascendant Secret Art couldn’t last ten more breaths.

In the brief exchange, countless blood-sword wounds marked his body.

Yun Yao was practically shoved into the array by his palm.

At the same time, he darted forward, driving his sword into the array’s core.

*Boom—*

The array erupted in blinding light, illuminating the crumbling barrier like sun and moon combined.

He Fengming spat blood, kneeling, heedless of his bleeding wounds.
The array activated, its light surging upward.

Through the shimmering, moonlit glow, he gritted his teeth, forcing a strained smile at Yun Yao at the array’s forefront. “Yun Yaojiu, tell my master I didn’t disgrace him.”

Before his words faded, Faceless’s blood-red killing sword burst from the temple, its thunderous force aiming to shatter both He Fengming and the array.

His Ascendant Secret Art drained, his aura plummeted.

He couldn’t dodge—nor did he care to.

Kneeling, He Fengming closed his eyes.

What would death feel like? A long sleep, perhaps, where he could still smell the faint camellia scent of his senior sister…

“No message. Tell him yourself.”
The girl’s cold, indifferent voice rang in his ears.

“—?” He Fengming’s eyes snapped open.

He glimpsed a glowing talisman on his shoulder, then his vision blurred—

In an instant, he and Yun Yao switched places, standing within the array.

The talisman’s last golden spark faded in his stunned gaze.

Star-Shift Technique.
Body for body.

The red-robed girl spun, slashing a circle, intercepting Faceless’s blood sword and deflecting it from the array’s range.

In the same breath, she forced out a formidable spiritual surge, striking the array’s core sword.

*Boom!*

The final spiritual pulse connected.

In He Fengming’s mind, her rare, faint chuckle echoed. “Your sword? Not returning it.”

The Mountain-Shifting Array’s light soared skyward—

In the final breath before teleportation, as He Fengming’s eyes widened in horror, the temple’s barrier shattered, golden light spilling.
Nightmare Beasts cascaded like an avalanche, engulfing the girl’s figure.

“—!!”

The array’s light and spiritual aura vanished together.
Confirming the array sent everyone beyond a hundred zhang, Yun Yao’s gaze relaxed. She cleaved three charging Nightmare Beasts, heedless of their blood and nauseating white threads drenching her.

Seeing this, Faceless sneered. “Sacrificing yourself for your sect, just like your master three hundred years ago. Haha, what a foolish Qianmen!”

Yun Yao paused.
Three hundred years ago?

But with endless Nightmare Beasts and Faceless’s ambushes, she had no time to think.
“Who said it’s for them? It’s for you.”

“?”

Faceless’s aura tightened, retreating warily behind the beasts.

“Oh, what to do? It’s just us now,” the red-robed girl wiped blood from her lips, smiling, her eyes cold as a blade. “With them gone, your scheme’s exposed. No one else will enter Canglong Mountain to feed your beasts’ emotions. Without the Nightmare Thread array, can your plot succeed?”

“…” Faceless’s voice rasped. “You. Seek. Death.”

“Is that so?”

She felled the last nearby Nightmare Beast.

Standing with her sword, her aura surged explosively.
The blade pointed skyward, its tip gathering light like a rising moon over a devouring tide.

Snow-white sword light erupted, sweeping all directions, scattering threads and dust, dispelling darkness for dozens of zhang.

In that unstruck sword, Faceless’s soul trembled, his featureless face finally shifting.
“Naihe Sword… Impossible! Who are you?!”

The sword’s glow reflected in the girl’s dark eyes.
Yun Yao’s smile vanished:

“One who bids you death.”

—

As the Mountain-Shifting Array’s light pierced the sky, a hundred li away, in the village’s eastern courtyard, Mu Hanyuan’s meditating spiritual flow stuttered.
He turned toward Canglong Mountain.

The massive spiritual surge woke Qianmen disciples resting in both courtyards, who rushed out, swords drawn.

Under the moonlight, a figure in wide robes and lotus crown stood facing the mountain, his sleeves fluttering like swirling snow, his tall frame sharp as a blade, its chilling aura slicing the night wind, as if to cleave the darkness itself.

“—Lord Hanyuan?”
The disciples hesitated, barely recognizing him.

“…”

Two breaths later, his icy aura vanished.

Chen Jianxue arrived beside him, gazing worriedly at the fading array light. “Canglong Mountain? What caused such spiritual force?”

Mu Hanyuan started to speak but pursed his lips, turning to another direction in the night.
“They’re back.”

Qianmen disciples’ sword auras approached swiftly. Chen Jianxue’s heart eased, but as she turned to speak, Mu Hanyuan was gone.

He was already outside the courtyard.

That instant shift… was almost frantic.

In her memory, such emotion had never appeared on her senior brother in over a century.

Before she could think further, sword figures landed outside. Mu Hanyuan’s sleeve swept, steadying the unsteady disciples to land safely.

But one, bloodied and tattered, rolled off another’s sword, collapsing before Mu Hanyuan—

“Lord Hanyuan!”
He Fengming clutched his robe, voice hoarse with desperation. “Quick… please, go to Canglong Mountain’s temple… save Yun Yaojiu!”

“—”

Mu Hanyuan’s hand, lifting him, tightened, his knuckles sharp, nearly crushing He Fengming’s arm.

Chen Jianxue, hurrying out, asked frantically, “What happened? What’s wrong with you all? Where’s Yun… Junior Sister Yun?”

The rattled disciples, alongside Xuankong Sect’s, recounted the Nightmare Beasts and threads in a chaotic chorus.

“Beasts from three hundred years ago? How’s that possible?” The staying Qianmen disciples were shocked.
Seeing He Fengming, tended to for injuries, heightened their alarm.
Their strongest swordsman, using the Ascendant Secret Art, couldn’t withstand a single set of moves from the ambusher, let alone those unheard-of Two Realms Mountain beasts.

“Senior Brother,” Chen Jianxue’s worry grew, an inexplicable unease rising. She looked at Mu Hanyuan, silent throughout. “What do we do?”

“…”

He was silent, his ears flooded with chaotic, overlapping noise—

“…It’s our fault, dragging down Little Martial Aunt…”

[*Into the mountain, and babysitting kids? What if I lose one?*] The red-robed girl’s grumbling echoed under the tree.

He’d made her take them.

“The barrier’s broken. How can Little Martial Aunt face those Nightmare Beasts and Blood Demon Faceless alone…”

[*I’d like Master to lead into Canglong Mountain.*]

He’d sent her.

“…What do we do? Little Martial Aunt seemed to have old injuries. Last night, I saw her suppressing something…”

[*Your junior sister’s precious, but your master’s in top shape, huh?*] Her displeased chuckle rang in the cold night breeze.

He’d been certain she’d be fine.

She’d emerged from seclusion with issues.
Why hadn’t he considered why she hid her identity, never reclaiming Naihe Sword?
How could he let her risk herself?

The night’s voices surged, mingling with memories in his mind, wave upon wave, overwhelming.

“—Senior Brother??”
“Lord Hanyuan?”
“Lord Hanyuan!”

[*Lord Hanyuan, boasting brings retribution.*] Her playful whisper seemed to brush his ear.

*Cough.*

Rage and anxiety struck his heart.
The white silk over his eyes trembled.

Chen Jianxue looked up, alarmed, seeing him cover his lips with his sleeve. Moments later, he lowered his hand, his lips starkly red under the moonlight.

…Blood.

Her pupils shrank.

Before she could speak, he said lowly, “Return to the sect and report. I’m going to Canglong Mountain.”
With that, he moved outward.

Chen Jianxue snapped back, chasing two steps, suppressing a cough. “Senior Brother, no! Beasts from centuries ago, with someone plotting behind it—likely tied to the demon seed’s apocalyptic signs! This demands the Immortal Alliance’s action!”

Without turning, his figure flickered dozens of zhang away. “I’m gone. You decide.”

“Senior Brother! If the Nightmare Threads are truly unsolvable, what if you’re trapped—”

His figure vanished, leaving only a cold, lingering voice under the moon:

“Then I’ll be trapped.”