Chapter Thirty-Two: Lost in Obsession Beneath the Rain

Wu Yue opened his eyes from a deep slumber to the sight of dim, flickering candlelight. A splitting headache throbbed behind his temples; without his cultivation to protect him, three catties of white liquor had been enough to leave him senseless.

Struggling to his feet, he surveyed the room. It was a common guest room, yet oddly familiar. After a moment of careful thought, he realized this was his lodging in Black Veil City. Wu Yue slumped into a chair and let out a long, weary breath.

What kind of person was he, really?
He wanted to be a man of deep sentiment.
The death of Hongxiu?
It was his recurring nightmare.
Why not seek revenge?
Whom should I seek out?

It felt as though two voices were constantly bickering within him. Wu Yue felt exhausted, yet powerless to silence them.

"Anyone will do! Anyone!" All the arguing collapsed into those three words. "Anyone will do! A wrong is a wrong, even if unintentional. If you commit a wrong, you must pay the price!"

Within his mind, Wu Yue could see three hundred ghosts rising in unison before his inner eye. They were roaring, and their faces were all his own. They cried out about unrequited debts, about those who sought death and those who struggled to live. Since such a debt could not be repaid with kindness, it could only be paid in blood.

"Huang Sanlong, who struck without cause, deserves to die!"
"Hou Baiyu, who broke his word and acted as an informant, deserves to die!"
"The Fierce Tiger Gang, driven by greed, committed too great a sin—they deserve to die!"

The three hundred ghosts bellowed. This was their obsession, their rage, their resentment, their persistence, and their madness. The path of cultivation was destined to be endless and arduous; only by paving the road with bones could one reach the pinnacle. The world of cultivation was cruel and merciless; only through torrential slaughter could one achieve immortality. The human heart was the most fickle and sinister thing of all. There was nothing for it but to kill, kill, kill!

Wu Yue felt as if countless gongs and chimes were ringing in his mind, but gradually, the sound faded, leaving only a single sentence: "Why not draw a three-foot blade and slaughter all those in this world who have failed you?" It was an ethereal, detached voice.

A vision appeared: a young man, thrusting his sword against the crashing waves. It was A-Fei’s swift sword technique, a treasure Wu Yue had obtained from his "Golden Finger" divine wish. Finally, the sword intent transformed into the brilliant sun of midsummer. A sense of extreme coldness surged in Wu Yue’s heart, followed by slaughter, and finally, a faint, lingering warmth—this was the heart of A-Fei.

Power. Repayment of favors.

The lamp on the table flickered; the old wick burned down, and a spark popped.

"Isn't a person’s life much like the falling of this spark?"

A profound and mysterious aura emerged—the transformation that had been interrupted at the inn now returned in full force.

The three hundred ghosts roared in unison, and a grey mist rose from their heads, merging into a single column of smoke like a wolf-dung signal fire.

Far away, Chang'an, who had been sitting cross-legged, suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze devoid of all emotion. He slapped his hands onto the top of his own head, and countless black runes manifested.

Deep within a soul even further beyond Chang'an, another Wu Yue, appearing weak and frail, opened his eyes as well. He closed them again almost immediately, a smile touching the corners of his lips.

In this moment, Wu Yue went into a trance, a trance of obsession.

"Wu Yue" stood up and stretched. He patted the vacant-eyed Wu Yue on the shoulder and stepped out, the Taishan Palace trailing closely behind him.

"You are not afraid of starting over, yet you fear being lonely again. But you shouldn't be afraid. No one is born destined for loneliness, yet no one is incapable of enduring it."

"Do not fear guilt, do not fear regret, do not fear making mistakes. Do not fear, do not fear, none of us are afraid."

"As long as the heart is at peace."

Wu Yue muttered to himself as he walked onto the street. It was past midnight, and the bustling night market had already dispersed. Only a few scattered drunkards and some late-returning peddlers remained.

"Look, they are watching us. You know it, don't you? But why should I let them watch me? It makes me unhappy."

With a flick of his hand, two men fell dead. They wore bronze masks, the same attire as the men from a year ago—members of the Fierce Tiger Gang.

"Where are you trying to run?" Wu Yue asked calmly, looking at the man before him.

"I am from the Council of Elders! You cannot kill me!" Fang Fei was terrified, his soul nearly leaving his body. As a Core Formation cultivator, he hadn't felt this way in years. Yet, this time, the sensation enveloped him completely. The person before him was too terrifying; Fang Fei knew his history—he had killed two Transformation Realm experts! To think the Elders had sent him, and he had actually come...

"Do not watch me ever again."

"I... I’m leaving right now! I promise, I will tell the Elders—" Fang Fei’s words were cut short. He felt his dantian shattered by a massive force.

"When it is time to establish authority, one cannot be soft-hearted. Do not ever come to watch me again."

Wu Yue looked up at the sky. A dull rumble of thunder echoed, and a dazzling flash of lightning illuminated the street, followed by a light, drizzling rain.

Summers were prone to rain, to violent storms.
The downpour arrived in torrents.

Carrying the Taishan Palace in his hand, Wu Yue walked step by step down the street, sending splashes of water flying with every stride.

Hou Baiyu was drinking heavily, trying to drown his sorrows, but his robust constitution made it difficult to get drunk on such common swill. As for fine wine, he sighed—he truly couldn't afford it anymore. Though he desperately wanted to leave this place, his internal injuries forced him to stay.

A breeze blew in. Hou Baiyu felt a chill and only then noticed the sound of the heavy rain outside. Feeling the need for a cold draft, he moved to open the window.

He was startled half to death. It was the middle of the night—who wouldn't be afraid to find someone standing outside their window? He squinted and realized it was Wu Yue, holding that black palace—the very thing that had claimed Qing Yuzi. Hou Baiyu swore he saw it clearly.

"Brother Wu, to what do I owe this midnight visit?" Though he sensed ill intent, their grievances had been settled; surely he wouldn't go back on his word? Hou Baiyu didn't think Wu Yue was the type to break a promise—after all, not everyone was like him.

Wu Yue smiled coldly and swung the Taishan Palace with brute force. Hou Baiyu was caught off guard; a series of cracking, splintering sounds echoed. Hou Baiyu knew that if it weren't for his 'Everlasting Dragon-Armor Technique,' that single strike would have killed him or left him critically wounded!

"You want to kill me?! Wu Yue, you are breaking your word!" Anyone could see the hollow bravado in Hou Baiyu’s voice.

Wu Yue ignored him, pointing a finger as the Taishan Palace crashed into him again. Seeing this, Hou Baiyu was terrified—Wu Yue truly meant to kill him!

"No. Something is wrong with him... who are you?" A black turtle shell appeared in Hou Baiyu’s hand. The Taishan Palace slammed into it with a dull thud. Everything in the room shattered, and cracks began to spread rapidly across the walls; it was, after all, just an ordinary building.

The thunder grew louder. Wu Yue paid no mind, pointing once more at the Taishan Palace. Hou Baiyu’s face twisted in madness, and he smashed the turtle shell against the palace again. The shell shattered into pieces, Hou Baiyu coughed up blood and collapsed, and the room began to cave in. Wu Yue reached out, retrieved the Taishan Palace, and vanished into the rain.

"Brother, have a drink! Let’s celebrate the fact that we’ll never have to worry again."
"Hahaha! Drink! Everyone drink!"

Seven or eight men were drinking. In truth, cultivators were no different from ordinary people when they drank—they just had a higher tolerance.

"To be honest, this past year has scared the hell out of me. I thought it was just a simple job of murder and robbery, so I sent a few men. When I heard the result, I was so scared I didn't dare leave the gang headquarters for days. Who would have thought that pretty boy we ran into would be a great master?"

"Exactly. I despise those types—hiding their cultivation and pretending to be ordinary! Thinking about it now, it feels so pathetic. We lost so many brothers, and the Gang Leader even had to go and speak nicely to him."

The door creaked open. A brilliant, devastating sword light flashed, followed by a cold, murderous sword intent. Then came a massive crash.

Wu Yue gazed calmly at a distant pavilion. Inside, the Fierce Tiger Gang Leader, Hu Wushuang, and his wife, Lu Xinying, opened their eyes simultaneously. They did not close them again until Wu Yue had left. This was an outcome they could accept.

Wu Yue began to run, faster and faster, charging toward the South City Gate! The thunder in the sky resonated with his movement.

Wu Yue slammed into the South City Gate with a thunderous boom! A massive bolt of lightning struck down from the heavens! The two sounds of impact rang out, shaking the very earth and sky.

Black Veil City lay behind him. Wu Yue stood alone in the rain.

Tens of thousands of miles away, in a small mountain village, a sudden clap of thunder struck a temple on the hillside. The temple collapsed, and the idol inside was the first to shatter.

Until the first rooster crowed.

Li Wenzhang let out a long yawn and gathered the pile of copper coins on his table.

"Didn't sleep all night. Time for a morning nap."

Last night, many people had been sleepless.
Because the thunder in the sky had been too loud, and the voices on the earth had been too clear.