Chapter 142: Mystery Of The Blood Aura

Chapter 142: The Mystery of the Blood Fiend

“Please return, benefactor.” In the nunnery, an old nun lowered her head: “Young Master Lu’s mind is clouded by baleful aura, he has lost all reason and may harm others. The two of you, bearing blades and swords, are too great a provocation—please go no further.”

Tang Buqi hesitated. In truth, the sight of the man’s beastly demeanor had already made him want to retreat. It wasn’t fear—but to investigate anything, the other party had to be capable of communication. What use was this state?

He turned his gaze to Zhao Changhe, wanting to see his opinion, but was stunned by what he saw.

Zhao Changhe had taken off the battered blade from his back, pressing it against his chest and gripping it with all his might, struggling as if in a tug-of-war: “Stop it! Damn, still shaking? I’ll smack you if you keep it up!”

Longque trembled even more violently.

Tang Buqi: “…”

Sisi, standing nearby, pressed her forehead. If she were fully immersed in her role as a maidservant, shouldn’t she say that both the previous and current masters were idiots?

“Clang!”

Zhao Changhe held the blade tightly, but Longque actually unsheathed itself. Startled, he grabbed the hilt and shoved it back in, one hand on the hilt and the other on the scabbard, clamping them together, then turned and ran.

“Be good, stop it! You’ve been so well-behaved all this way. Next time I see Old Emperor… Old Huang, I’ll put in a good word for you, alright?”

“Roar!” A furious bellow came from behind. With a clatter, the iron chain was actually snapped. The young master of the Lu family madly broke free from the nuns trying to restrain him and lunged fiercely at Zhao Changhe.

Zhao Changhe spun and delivered a flying kick, sending him crashing back into the nunnery. With a crash, doors and windows collapsed, and dust billowed.

Tang Buqi and Sisi stood dumbfounded.

It looked as if Lu Shaoxiong was trying to fight Zhao Changhe’s… blade, with Zhao Changhe playing the mediator.

Oh no, it was biased mediation.

Lu Shaoxiong, kicked flying, seemed unharmed. He leaped up again madly, trying to charge forward.

A huge sole appeared before him—Zhao Changhe kicked him into the corner again.

A swarm of nuns rushed over, pressing Lu Shaoxiong down firmly, and urged, “Benefactor, leave quickly!”

Zhao Changhe, holding the hilt, dashed away, shouting, “Send out a nun—I have questions!”

Only after he had fled three or four li from Jingxin Nunnery did Longque finally calm down, though it still seemed a bit aggrieved, looking wronged.

Zhao Changhe was speechless. No wonder they said Qinghe Sword could actively slay evil, and Longque could replace it…

He hadn’t felt it before; it didn’t seem capable of actively attacking. Last time at Gujian Lake, facing Bingpo, Longque neither showed the initiative to act on its own like Bingpo nor any desire to challenge it, making Zhao Changhe think Longque’s spirit was far inferior to Bingpo’s.

Unexpectedly, its first fit of madness happened here. It seemed it really could attack on its own, not much inferior to Bingpo.

Longque was a weapon of this era, wasn’t it? Made by Xia Longyuan, its full name was ‘Great Xia Longque.’ And Bingpo was a divine sword from the previous era—did this prove that Xia Longyuan had already touched the power of the gods and buddhas of the last age?

But it was strange—Longque wasn’t actually reacting to the baleful aura. Otherwise, back when he entered the ‘Heaven and Earth Without Self’ state, Longque would have cut him down first. It was sensitive to killing intent and perceived ‘offense’ against itself. Why would this indiscriminate mad baleful aura trigger its battle lust and make it tremble endlessly…

Zhao Changhe narrowed his eyes at Longque, lost in thought.

“What’s up with your blade?” Tang Buqi flew over from behind. “I told the gatekeeper our swords couldn’t have issues—and you’re slapping my face with the flat of your blade?”

Zhao Changhe looked at his face, then at his own broad blade, and his hand suddenly itched.

Tang Buqi took a step back.

Sisi, panting, arrived with an old nun: “Master, the venerable nun is here.”

Zhao Changhe found her role-playing amusing and nodded: “Sisi knows how to handle things.”

Sisi lowered her head shyly: “Just trying to share your burden, Master.”

Tang Buqi’s teeth were set on edge. He flicked his sleeve in irritation and asked the old nun: “Is the man under control?”

“He’s under control.” The old nun panted. “This kind of baleful madness knows no pain, fears no blades or spears, is immune to acupoint strikes, and has immense strength—truly troublesome to restrain. The iron chain used to hold him, but today something provoked him, and he even broke the chain…”

As she spoke, her eyes darted to the blade in Zhao Changhe’s hand. Tang Buqi and Sisi were also staring at it. Regardless of how the blade had triggered the man’s frenzy, the fact that it moved on its own was undeniable—what a treasure…

Zhao Changhe was equally helpless. He hadn’t expected Longque’s spirit, hidden for so long, to be accidentally exposed over such a trivial matter—he had been careless. From their expressions, Tang Buqi probably didn’t care much; his family might even have similar items. But Sisi’s eyes were gleaming, and he had no idea what she was plotting.

He had to skip the topic and asked the old nun: “I know a fair bit about baleful aura. It can indeed multiply one’s strength, but limited by one’s own power, no amount of amplification can make someone superhuman. Even I couldn’t break that iron chain. What was Lu Shaoxiong’s original strength?”

Tang Buqi interjected: “So it really is blood baleful aura? Not something else?”

“Mm, nine times out of ten. Though it’s different from the kind I cultivate myself, the essence is similar.”

Tang Buqi said: “Then the boost this baleful aura gives to physical strength is rather bizarre. I know Lu Shaoxiong—he barely reached the third level of the Mystic Gate by relying on pills. How could he have the power to break chains?”

The old nun nodded in confirmation: “Young Master Lu was indeed at the third level of Mystic Gate, and he practiced internal arts, with almost no external training. He really shouldn’t have been able to break the chain. Previously, he was always well restrained…”

Zhao Changhe fell silent, thinking to himself: If someone had secretly sawed the chain, then you nuns are suspects—asking is pointless. He felt that this incident wasn’t merely a passive calamity; there must be some human factor hidden within.

He pondered for a moment, then asked: “During the time Young Master Lu was confined here, were there any other unusual behaviors?”

The old nun shook her head: “No, just occasional fits of mad roaring, trying to break free, but he couldn’t. Lately, even Master and Madam Lu dared not come; they could do nothing, and Madam Lu could only weep. We have been chanting sutras beside him to calm his mind…”

“Stop chanting! If it’s truly baleful madness, your droning like flies will only make him more agitated. Try chanting next to me when I’m in a blood baleful frenzy!”

“…Our chanting is different from ordinary people’s—it contains the effects of our cultivation. In recent days, the frequency of Young Master Lu’s attacks has indeed decreased compared to the beginning.”

Zhao Changhe was taken aback, thinking: If your Buddhist cultivation really works on this, I might want to become your disciple. He set that aside for now and asked instead: “I heard earlier that Lu Shaoxiong was passing through the southern market, saw someone in a mad killing spree, struck them down, and then got infected himself. Is that true?”

The old nun nodded: “Indeed.”

“And where was the madman he killed buried? Not left in the wilderness, I hope?”

“Behind our nunnery, there is a burial ground for corpses with no family to claim them.”

Zhao Changhe said: “Alright, take us there. I want to open the coffin and examine the corpse for any remaining clues… Nephew, where are you going?”

Tang Buqi slowly backed away: “I’m no good at such things. No point in going. You go ahead, you go ahead, heh heh…”

With that, he suddenly turned and vanished in a flash.

“Damn, such a coward and still calls himself a wanderer!” Zhao Changhe spat, but saw the old nun and Sisi looking at him with strange expressions, both pale.

Sisi swallowed: “Master, that man has been dead for at least half a month. The corpse is probably rotten and stinking by now… not like the one you just killed…”

Zhao Changhe’s expression stiffened, but he braced himself: “What’s there to fear? Please lead the way, venerable nun.”

Sisi turned and bolted, but Zhao Changhe was quick—he grabbed her by the back of her collar. She ran in place for seven or eight steps, then drooped her head, on the verge of tears: “Master, please let me go. I’m just a little maid from the outer courtyard. What sin have I committed…”