Chapter 444: Soul-Shattering Moonlit Night

Chapter 444: Terror of the Moonlit Night

Zhao Changhe had not gone far; even the black stallion, Wuzhui, had been left behind with Li Si'an’s caravan.

Leaving the town behind, he followed the shore of Lake Erhai southward for only a short distance before plunging into the water with a splash, determined to enjoy a thorough bath before turning his thoughts to anything else.

After all, he was soon to meet Yue Hongling, and it would be utterly mortifying to appear before her smelling like an old rag.

Though the locals called this body of water a sea, it was essentially a vast lake, its waters exceptionally pure and highly refreshing to bathe in. The sole grievance lay in the surrounding pastures, which reeked so strongly of cattle dung that one could not help but wonder if this ablution might inadvertently cause some unwanted residue to cling to the skin.

That wretched Li Si'an had promised that once they reached a town, he could bathe as much as he pleased, yet it had proved an empty assurance. In the end, he still had to run out into the wild to wash.

Huh...

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt the Dragon-Sparrow Sabre within his ring tremble slightly. It transmitted an intent that carried a distant, long-dormant memory: "What petty scoundrel dares covet Our Imperial Person!"

A warning of mortal peril!

Since acquiring the Dragon-Sparrow, this phenomenon had manifested only a few times in the early days, most crucially during Wan Dongliu's assassination attempt. He had never encountered such clandestine attempts since; his battles had all been frontal confrontations where the sabre's warnings were no longer required. With his current sensory acuteness, ordinary malice was well within his own capacity to detect.

To think that today, disguised as Wang Daozhong, he would experience this long-absent sensation once more. This surveillance had to be originating from beyond the perimeter of his five senses, a distance his own prowess was insufficient to perceive.

Which meant... an arrow!

Zhao Changhe suddenly kicked his legs, surging several feet forward through the water with abrupt force.

Simultaneously, a sharp twang resonated from a bowstring. An arrow materialized from nowhere, bearing a furious, spiraling tempest of energy. It grazed past his body by the narrowest of margins, piercing the exact spot where he had been bathing a breath before.

Splash! Water erupted into the sky. Zhao Changhe spun upward through the torrent, attempting to leap onto the shore.

Movement was restricted within the water; if a few more arrows were to follow, he could not guarantee his ability to evade them. He needed a foothold on solid ground. Li Si'an's casual jest about swinging a pendulum-like object while fighting someone was actually about to come true...

Swoosh! The moment he breached the surface, a second arrow arrived, bearing down directly upon his chest.

Zhao Changhe drew the ancient sword, Longhuang, from his ring, parrying the shaft in the nick of time. The impact sent a wave of numbness through his web of thumb and forefinger; unable to borrow force to drift backward, he tumbled into the water once more.

Zhao Changhe’s heart tightened. This was not a testament to the supreme archery of his assailant, but rather an indication that his own strength had waned!

No wonder they possessed the confidence to assassinate 'Wang Daozhong of the Earth Rank'; at this moment, the Earth Rank meant nothing.

Yet, examining his internal state, he could discern no flaw. He was neither injured nor poisoned.

The lake water was untainted. Furthermore, to speak of toxicity without considering dosage was sheer absurdity; this was a body of water as vast as a sea. What manner of poison could retain its efficacy when dissolved into such an expanse? No such toxin existed in this world; it defied common sense.

Then this must be...

The art of sorcery and voodoo?

Swoosh! Another arrow flew. Zhao Changhe parried it once more and urgently dove deep. He felt each successive arrow growing heavier, though in truth, it was his own vitality that was steadily draining. If this continued, he would soon be unable to deflect them at all. He had to submerge deeply; the water's resistance would hinder the arrows, and the archer would lose his line of sight.

Yet the moment he dove, he sensed several other figures launching an assault from the lake bed, their water-parting daggers silent, cold, and deadly.

Zhao Changhe twisted his torso. Before they could complete their encirclement, he darted out of the trap like a swift fish. Simultaneously, a mirror materialized in his hand, reflecting his own countenance.

"..." The hidden attackers nearly laughed aloud. In the midst of this tense, life-and-death pursuit, someone had actually produced a mirror to gaze upon his own face—was he eager to admire his own handsome features before demise? In the deep, nocturnal waters, what could one possibly see?

Yet to Zhao Changhe's eyes, the mirror revealed everything clearly. He could see a dark, ominous aura clouding his forehead, with faint, bizarre wisps of black qi emanating and coiling about him. His muscles and vitality were visibly withering and decaying.

The treasure of the Cui family, the Mirror of Qinghe... He had not anticipated requiring its power so soon.

Judging by what the mirror revealed, his initial assumption that voodoo insects had infiltrated his body through the water was incorrect. It was a curse, enacted through some unknown catalyst to inflict a debilitating hex. The enigmatic arts of the Miaojiang region were indeed impossible to guard against.

The root of its influence lay... in his heart.

As long as it had not restricted the true qi within his dantian, all was well.

Zhao Changhe abruptly jerked his head aside. A water-parting dagger lunged from behind, grazing past his cheek. Reaching out, he clamped down upon his assailant's wrist and twisted it violently.

Accompanied by the sharp crack of a dislocated bone, Zhao Changhe planted a foot squarely into the man's abdomen, propelling himself forward by several fathoms. He fully activated the Rejuvenation Technique, shielding the blood vessels of his heart.

The Rejuvenation Technique was no mere healing art; it was a revival operating on the level of natural laws. This curse, dependent on some obscure catalyst, could only achieve a minor degree of debilitation, which did not exceed the capabilities of his technique. Zhao Changhe distinctly felt his vitality returning as the black qi was gradually expelled.

Who dared claim that a berserker possessing a healing skill was useless? It proved exceptionally practical—healing oneself while actively engaged in combat, entirely unbeknownst to the enemy.

The crux lay in identifying the root of the malady; without finding the source, all efforts would be in vain. Old Cui's mirror was intriguing indeed.

Several water-parting daggers sliced through the depths, converging upon Zhao Changhe from the front, back, left, and right. Zhao Changhe suddenly extended his left hand, catching the weapon thrusting from his left. With a powerful tug and heave, he hurled the man backward, sending him crashing directly into the assailant approaching from behind. Simultaneously, his right hand gripped the blocker on his right, driving his knee upward squarely into the man's groin.

The man opened his mouth to scream in agony, but the lake water instantly gurgled into his throat, depriving him of all combat capability in a single instant.

Swoosh! An arrow plunged straight down from above.

Zhao Changhe grabbed the unfortunate soul in his right hand and hoisted him upward. The arrow's momentum had already been impeded by the water, and once blocked by this human shield, it lost all threat.

Zhao Changhe surged upward once more, his head breaking the surface of the lake.

An archer stood upon a piece of driftwood floating on the water, aiming downward. Seeing Zhao Changhe's head abruptly emerge, the man was visibly startled.

Shuck!

Longhuang left its scabbard; a blue dragon ascended from the waters.

A cataclysmic burst of sword qi erupted. The archer was riddled with bloody punctures and fell with a heavy thud.

From the distant woods, someone uttered a soft exclamation of surprise. Instantly, another arrow flew like a shooting star, seeking to exploit the fleeting moment before "Wang Daozhong" could gather his strength anew.

Zhao Changhe spun his body rapidly through the air. The arrow left a bloody furrow across his right shoulder. A split second later, his foot pressed against the driftwood, and he bounded away from the lake, pursuing the foe into the forest.

The woods contained nothing but startled birds; the assailant had already vanished.

Looking back, the lake was shrouded in pitch darkness. The water ghouls below had submerged to parts unknown. Zhao Changhe breathed heavily, staring at the clear lake water as though gazing into the gaping maw of a dark behemoth, lacking the daring to plunge back in to search for them.

The slight wound where the arrow had grazed his arm throbbed with a pain far more severe than any grievous laceration. Looking down, he saw dark blood oozing from the cut; the arrow had been coated in virulent poison.

The Rejuvenation Technique operated once more, neutralizing the toxins, though it proved somewhat arduous. The potency of this venom was almost too much for his rudimentary mastery of the technique to handle, and it was certainly not something the basic poison resistance of his former Liuhe Divine Art could endure.

Zhao Changhe retrieved a fresh set of robes from his ring, changed into them, and vanished into the woods. Concealing himself behind a boulder, he quietly nurtured his injuries, waiting for dawn.

He dared not wander aimlessly through the night.

Since his return from beyond the northern borders, it seemed a very long time since he had encountered such a perilous situation. Within the span of a few brief breaths, he felt as though he had walked to the gates of the underworld and back.

"Interesting," Zhao Changhe muttered, slowly expelling the toxic blood from his arm before applying medicine. A sudden laugh escaped him.

This sensation was truly exhilarating, not a whit inferior to the thrill of charging through thousands of troops.

The world was vast, and its eccentric arts were legion; one could not simply trample over everything merely by flaunting a rank on the Heaven or Earth charts. No wonder Lei Ao had shown none of the awe typically felt in the Central Plains toward the Earth Rank when facing 'Wang Daozhong'.

So, was this assassination his doing?

If it was, what was his motive?

If it was not, then who could it be... Shi Wuding? Yet Shi Wuding had not acted personally... it did not quite fit.

Zhao Changhe pondered for a moment, then decided to return to Xizhou.

Regardless of whether Lei Ao was responsible, his supposed departure from this place was merely a ruse to prevent Shi Wuding from locating him anyway. Yue Hongling was right here, so why should he run off to Mount Cangshan?

It would be far better to double back, find a random spot to lie low, and observe both Shi Wuding and whether Lei Ao harbored any treacherous designs.

Just as the thought materialized, an alarm blared within his mind.

Beneath the moonlight, the ethereal sound of a flute drifted from an unknown quarter, wailing and turning like a sob, filled with grievance.

Prompted by the melody, the surroundings began to rustle softly. Looking out, he saw countless venomous serpents converging upon him from all sides at some unknown juncture. Myriad jade-green eyes stared fixedly at him, their tongues flickering wildly, presenting an utterly horrifying spectacle under the moon.

Zhao Changhe’s hairs stood on end. Just as he was about to leap into the air, he saw innumerable serpents hanging upside down from above like the long tresses of the trees. A dense cloud of toxic mist permeated the upper canopy; in his state of ignorance regarding its nature, he truly dared not charge blindly through it.

Zhao Changhe's upward momentum ceased abruptly, and he dropped back to the ground.

A silvery laugh came: "The Langya Wang clan does have some tricks. I wonder how they broke the curse, how they expelled the poison... Tsk tsk, it really makes me curious. Can you eat these snake venoms again?"

Even though the scene was eerie and terrifying, that seductive laugh rippled through the heart, soul-stealing, like a lover whispering, asking you to do something very fun.

Even if the true Earth List Wang Daozhong were here, he would probably feel that this eeriness bodes ill.

But Zhao Changhe instead rolled his eyes, simply hugged his arms and leaned back against the rock, closing his eyes to rest: "Snake venom is nothing interesting. But I haven't seen your snake waist in a long time. When can I take another look?"

This voice was no longer the deliberately imitated Wang Daozhong; it had returned to his original tone.

That light laugh abruptly stopped, becoming startled and uncertain: "How... could it be you? Is your disguise skill really that good?"

Zhao Changhe said irritably: "What I find even more unexpected is, how are you in Miaojiang also pretending to be Yue Hongling! Was it you who assassinated the Pacification Commissioner this evening?"