Chapter 15: 15 Younu of the Goulian Clan

◎If Younu doesn’t want to be unhappy, then this big sister will just have to suffer.◎

“Return… my… give it… BACK!”

“You… you thief… shameless… wretch!”

Sword-light ran riot across Hundred Swords Mountain, the screech of blades tearing through air mingling with the cold, eerie voice rising from the face on the Stone Stele—and Lu Qingkong felt an inexplicable chill crawl down his spine.

Younu hid behind him, voice trembling. “S-Senior Brother… what is that? Why can the stele talk?”

Lu Qingkong forced himself to stay calm. After much cautious probing, he confirmed the Stele Human Face could only emit intermittent sounds and seemed to have no other means of attack. Only then did he step forward and venture, “Who stole from you?”

The face contorted more ferociously still, rasping, “Rizhao Mountain robes… you Rizhao whelps… stole my sword… and you dare come here? What gall!”

Lu Qingkong and Younu exchanged a glance, each seeing equal bewilderment in the other’s eyes.

Lu Qingkong was about to press further when Younu—still clinging to his arm—suddenly shoved him forward with strength from who knew where.

Though Younu was only a half-grown child of ten, Lu Qingkong had spent years cooped up in his room tinkering with arrays. His frame was frail, his arms weak; caught completely off guard, he was knocked squarely off his feet, and the two of them tumbled aside together, limbs tangled in an undignified heap.

Lu Qingkong’s back slammed straight into the gravel-studded wall, pain knitting his brows. “You little brat—”

Before the words even finished, a thunderous CRACK—a scarlet whip lashed down and split the very ground where they had been standing. If Younu hadn’t knocked him clear, the pair might have been slapped into paste by that single vicious stroke.

“Senior Brother.”

Lu Qingkong lifted his head. Younu had already risen to her feet at some point, her small frame planted in front of him, her slender hands trembling faintly.

Before her stood a woman in fluttering crimson robes, toes pointed daintily downward, gazing from on high at the ants beneath her feet. Her devastatingly beautiful face was pure imperious cold, as if a single glance at them would soil her eyes.

Her impossibly slim waist was bare where the split panels of her robe lifted in the wind, revealing two long legs wrapped in crisscrossing scarlet ribbons. Her blood-red lips parted slightly as she drawled, “Ants not worth crushing.”

The Stele Human Face clacked twice. “Hongxue! Kill these two from Rizhao!” [T/N: Hongxue literally means “Red Snow”]

Blood-colored tassels swayed gently from Hongxue’s towering chignon in the breeze. Her crimson eyes shifted, and she said quietly, “As you command.”

Lu Qingkong’s pupils contracted. Instinct made him move to shield Younu behind him—but before he could act, she had already fumbled a Wooden Sword from her waist. It was probably carved for her by her senior sisters as a plaything, its surface covered in mottled nicks, a crooked name scratched into the hilt.

Her hand shook violently around the hilt as she raised the blade in an awkward, childish stance, voice quavering. “They… they struck first. Younu… only wanted to protect Senior Brother…”

Lu Qingkong couldn’t make sense of her words at all. He barked, “Younu! Get back here!”

Had he looked closer, he would have realized Younu wasn’t trembling from fear at all—it was more like someone who had found a toy that suited her tastes perfectly, desperately suppressing the urge to lunge forward and seize it. The emotion was so violent that the hand gripping her sword hilt had gone white, quivering.

Hongxue’s narrow eyes swept over her coldly. “Ants. Return the Kuayu Sword you stole from us.”

“The Kuayu Sword?” Lu Qingkong blinked—then his face darkened at once.

Everyone on Rizhao Mountain knew the weapon Mingzhu had brought back from Hundred Swords Mountain was the Kuayu Sword. He loved to brag endlessly about fighting through countless trials to win it—but he had never once mentioned that he’d snatched it from someone else!

Though on reflection, pulling off something so brazen and shameless was exactly Mingzhu’s style.

With her back to Lu Qingkong, Younu’s sweet, innocent young face still wore its usual radiant, unblemished smile. She tilted her head and said to him, sugar-sweet, “Senior Brother… I think Younu might have just found the weapon she wants.”

Lu Qingkong seemed stunned by that smile, his protective half-raised hand frozen in midair as he stared at her in disbelief.

Younu’s eyes curved into crescent moons, bright and clear, two faint dimples showing on her face from how sweetly she smiled. She extended a slender finger and pointed at Hongxue floating in midair, saying merrily, “Since Eldest Senior Brother got to snatch the Kuayu Sword back then, then if I snatch her, that’s fine too. Don’t you think so, Senior Brother?”

Lu Qingkong: “…”

Hongxue: “…”

At last, a flicker of anger broke through Hongxue’s cold, exquisite face. Her hand snapped open, and the tassels in her chignon ballooned into thick Whip Vines, which lashed down with a shriek at the tiny, big-talking girl.

Younu stood her ground, crescent eyes watching the thrashing vines overhead without a trace of fear. She raised her plaything of a Wooden Sword and, with utmost inexperience, gave the incoming vines a light, floating sweep.

Lu Qingkong heard a colossal BOOM. The Whip Vines in midair burst apart, scattering down like flowers flung from heaven’s hands, littering the ground within a few breaths.

Younu still stood quietly where she was—while high above, the tassel-bound chignon of Hongxue burst open, ink-black hair cascading down her back like scattered blossoms, swirling with her robes.

A crack finally split Hongxue’s immovable composure. She stared in disbelief at the little girl who had severed every one of her vines with a single casual stroke, blood-red lips trembling. “You…”

Younu’s lips pursed, looking a little unhappy. “I told you, you struck first. Younu only wanted to protect Senior Brother. She doesn’t want to kill anyone.”

The Stele Human Face also froze for an instant—it had never imagined this seemingly fragile little girl was a hidden gem of terrifying caliber. Hongxue was, aside from the Kuayu Sword, the strongest Artifact Spirit in all of Hundred Swords Mountain. Granted, she had underestimated her foe, but to be forced into such a state by one careless stroke from a child was still extraordinary.

Hongxue rose on her toes, her figure flitting lightly to land beside the stele, and said coldly, “This child carries three complete Spirit Vein inheritances. She is likely of the Goulian Clan.”

The face ground its teeth. “Can she not be killed?”

Hongxue said, “She cannot.”

In the time it took for those few terse words, Younu—Wooden Sword in hand—was already skimming across the ground, her form ghost-like as she flew straight at Hongxue. Both hands gripping the hilt, she raised the blade overhead with a shout, eyes unblinking, and brought it hacking down.

Hongxue’s hair was in wild disarray, her eyes rimmed red as she whipped around. Her hand slashed through the air, and from the jet-black mark on her wrist a black whip erupted, cracking viciously just before Younu’s blade could land.

Wooden sword met long whip in midair. The point of contact rippled with a ring of warped, void-like distortion; the cliff wall boomed and rained weapons, and even the Chain-bound giant sword at the center trembled for an instant.

Her sword blocked, Younu didn’t retreat—instead she reached out and grabbed the black-snake whip. Her starry eyes went wide, gazing at Hongxue with pure delight and fascination as she murmured, “Big sister, you’re so wonderful. Younu likes you so much. Come away with me, won’t you?”

Hongxue’s eyes went frigid. With a sweep of her broad red sleeve, she flung Younu’s small body violently away, snapping, “Insolence!”

But even flung through the air, Younu never let go of the whip. She strained it taut with all her might, her falling body arcing through a full half-circle in midair before her toes touched the cliff wall—then she launched off it like an arrow loosed from the bowstring, charging at Hongxue once more.

Hongxue made a split-second decision to abandon the whip, retreating several swift strides to press her hand against the stele. She said coldly, “The Kuayu Sword is not on either of them. I cannot reclaim it by force. I must return first and wait for my chance.”

The stele still seethed with resentment—but one glance at the mad-dog girl charging at them made it warp and twist back into that sweeping character for “hundred,” while Hongxue’s figure gradually faded, her scarlet spiritual qi drawn as if by some unseen force, flowing into the stone.

Just as she felt herself on the verge of merging into the stele, a hand suddenly seized her shoulder. She whipped around—and there stood Younu, watching her with naked anticipation, cheeks faintly flushed, gazing at her shyly as she whispered, “Big sister… won’t you be my Artifact Spirit?”

Hongxue slashed a palm down through the air—but it was knocked back by the protective Spiritual Power surging up around Younu.

Younu was still smiling. She tilted her head slightly, her fingers darting to press against Hongxue’s brow—and a vast torrent of Spiritual Power plunged into her spirit platform in an instant. Younu murmured, “But I like you so much. What can I do about that?”

Hongxue’s crimson eyes went glassy with a moment’s daze—and then her figure slowly dissolved from where she stood.

Younu drew a deep breath and pushed up her sleeve to examine the jet-black ring-shaped mark now circling her wrist. Hongxue had just been bound to her as master and servant—subjugated with shocking ease.

Younu murmured, “If Younu doesn’t want to be unhappy, then this big sister will just have to suffer.”

She had casually chopped every one of Hongxue’s attacks—including the Whip Vines—to splinters, and forcibly pressed a stranger into becoming her Artifact Spirit. Amid the devastation, she trotted back to Lu Qingkong’s side with her Wooden Sword, tilting her head up to look at him with swimming eyes, sniffling, “Senior Brother… is Younu useless? It took me so much effort just to claim a Sword Spirit… sniff…”

Lu Qingkong: “…”

One hand clutching her sword, Younu wiped messily at her tears with the other, weeping and wailing about her own worthlessness, shoulders hitching with sobs—stirring an inexplicable ache in Lu Qingkong’s heart. It might have ached more if he hadn’t just watched her casually slice apart an Artifact Spirit with cultivation at the Nascent Soul Stage and forcibly bind her as her own.

That whole scene left Lu Qingkong feeling as if he were trapped in some reality-inverting fever dream, still unable to collect himself.

Who could have imagined that Younu—the most harmless member of their entire party—possessed power rivaling a Nascent Soul Mighty Figure? Lu Qingkong felt thoroughly unwell. For all he prided himself on having seen every manner of prodigy, rarity, and marvel the world could offer, right now he could not summon a single word adequate to his feelings.

Seeing him wandering somewhere beyond the clouds, Younu hiccupped mid-sob and tugged his sleeve, asking softly, “Senior Brother… Senior Brother, what’s wrong?”

Lu Qingkong regarded her with an expression beyond complicated. After a long moment, he sighed. “It’s nothing.”

Younu brightened at once. Wiping away her tears, she took his hand and skipped forward, pulling him along. “I’ve found my weapon! Now let’s hurry and find a good one for you, Senior Brother. Once we do, Eldest Senior Sister and Eldest Senior Brother will come find us.”

Lu Qingkong didn’t feel like talking, and simply let her drag him deeper inside.

Meanwhile, in the Abandoned Sword Tomb beneath Hundred Swords Mountain’s abyss, Mingzhu stood unmoved, the seized Kuayu Sword resting easy in his palm. He was merely standing there—and yet the vicious Undead carpeting the ground all around had frozen in place in terror, helpless but to bow before him.

No—to be precise, bowing before the Kuayu Sword in his hand.

The man with the Long Halberd looked livid. He wanted to raise his weapon and cut down this Spirit-Veinless waste on the spot, but the halberd felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds, trembling so violently it left him unable to move.