Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Ground Collapses

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Li Yingqiong had narrowly escaped calamity thanks to her rare treasure, only to witness the "Taodu" Sword behaving with a surprising intimacy toward that impish young Daoist. This was, to her, an even greater humiliation than having fallen into a mire moments before.

Heaven alone knew what she had endured to tame this "Taodu" Sword! When she tried to grasp it, it seared her flesh and blood; when she willed it, it scorched her throat as if swallowing burning coals. Even then, commanding it took immense effort—if she exerted her full will, it answered at best half the time. Sometimes, it would simply remain inert within her spiritual palace, unmoving no matter how she summoned it.

What right did this stubborn Daoist have?

Why did Taodu favor him so?

Meanwhile, after circling the Daoist several times, Taodu subdued its inner blaze and settled gently into the young man’s arms, utterly unresponsive to Li Yingqiong’s mental commands.

The young Daoist gazed down at Taodu, now lying across his lap. With its flames and radiance withdrawn, the sword’s true form was revealed. Yunqi was instantly enchanted—such a wondrous blade, could such beauty truly exist in this world?

This was a sword wholly different from "Qiu Shui." Its style was unmistakably that of the Warring States period before the Qin, the most obvious sign being the broad blade, almost as wide as the guard.

The guard, tang, and pommel were all forged from the same material—a deep black-green, resembling some mysterious iron—measuring six inches in length.

The blade itself was a cinnabar red, neither quite copper nor jade, extending three feet and eight inches. Its lines were straight and fluid, the spine sharply raised, the edges bold and defined, sweeping diagonally before narrowing to an exquisitely keen tip.

The upper half of the blade maintained its width to the guard, where two characters—"Taodu"—were engraved in seal script. Below the guard, the blade ran straight for a third of its length, then drew in slightly along a graceful curve before tapering to a willow-leaf point.

Surely, this was the form a flying sword ought to take.

So Yunqi thought; after all, a flying sword required no guard, and a broad, keen blade would be all the more deadly.

He reached for the sword. It felt warm and smooth, like a piece of heated jade, and when he lifted it, it was far lighter than he had anticipated.

“Put down Taodu!” Li Yingqiong shouted, unable to accept the sight of Yunqi holding the sword without suffering its backlash. Her voice rang with indignation, demanding he let go at once.

A flash of radiance appeared in her hand, transforming into a short, white arrow seemingly made of bone or ivory, which she hurled viciously toward Yunqi.

He surmised that this, too, was a talisman arrow. Focusing his mind on Taodu, he was met again by that warmth, like winter sunlight or a campfire on a cold night.

Within the sword, an intent stirred—lively and alert. Sensing Yunqi’s will, it leaped to meet him. To Yunqi, the sensation was almost—like a white puppy?

He communicated with the sword’s spirit: could it rise at his command?

Taodu slowly lifted from Yunqi’s embrace, floating into the air.

Yunqi smiled and looked over to see Li Yingqiong’s astonishment.

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“Go!” he whispered.

Obeying the command, Taodu transformed into a streak of flame and vanished in an instant.

A thunderous boom exploded, fire and lightning erupting together. Taodu intercepted the bone-white talisman arrow, whose crackling thunderfire was many times more potent than anything Yunqi could conjure.

He recalled Taodu; the sword bore no mark of damage, the lightning and fire only making its radiance fiercer.

“To go out into the world carrying such a treasure—can that be called experience?” Yunqi shook his head gently.

He looked at Li Yingqiong and intoned, “Go!”

The flying sword shot toward her without pause.

Li Yingqiong’s face drained of color. She closed her eyes and clutched the chill jade she had drawn earlier for protection against fire.

A clear, ringing note sounded.

After a moment, realizing she was unharmed, Li Yingqiong slowly opened her eyes. The chill jade in her hand shone with a cold blue glow, forming a bubble-like shield around her, shimmering with ripples of light.

Taodu returned to Yunqi’s side, having accomplished nothing.

Li Yingqiong suddenly burst into wild laughter, then glared at Yunqi with venom.

“Stubborn Daoist! I possess the ‘Ten-Thousand-Year Chill Jade’ bestowed by my mistress! What can your golden flames or flying sword do to harm me? And Taodu, that traitorous thing! How can it compare to my chill jade?”

Yunqi shook his head. Taodu’s inability to pierce the chill jade was not the sword’s failing, but his own lack of cultivation. The chill jade was formidable, but surely not through Li Yingqiong’s own power—her mistress must have infused it with magic in advance.

He was all the more perplexed: with treasures like Taodu and the chill jade, why was Li Yingqiong wandering rather than chanting scriptures in Emei? Was she here to vanquish evil? If so, why not simply send the sword? Why bring herself along?

But now Yunqi no longer feared her; he rose unhurriedly, intending to depart.

“Where do you think you’re going?!”

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Li Yingqiong called out again.

Yunqi found it odd. “Naturally, I’m leaving this miasmic peach grove. Why—do you think you can stop me?”

Li Yingqiong hesitated. She still had a few treasures left, but surely none that could destroy Taodu...

“Stubborn Daoist, leave Taodu behind and I’ll spare your life—go wherever you please. But if my master learns of this, no matter how far you run, you’ll never escape his grasp!” she threatened, changing her tack.

But Yunqi seemed not to hear her. He simply walked away, Taodu following at his side, inseparable.

The woman was left alone, stamping her feet and cursing.

Yet before Yunqi had gone more than a dozen steps, a sudden, deafening crash erupted. The sound was so immense it felt as if a gigantic hammer had struck his heart, shattering his very organs. He collapsed at once, glancing back toward Li Yingqiong.

She, too, had fallen—not by her own doing—and even the ten-thousand-year chill jade offered no defense against this. On the ground, she writhed in agony, clutching her head.

Before Yunqi could gather his thoughts, the earth beneath them began to tremble violently, as if they had been cast upon a stormy sea!

Fighting through the pain, he tried to ride his cloud and escape, but the ground beneath him split open abruptly—a chasm yawning wide. Before he could react, he plummeted in.

On the other side, Li Yingqiong fared no better. The ground, like a slab of ice adrift on water, tossed her about until she too was flung into a bottomless pit.

Had anyone been passing overhead at that moment, they would surely have paused their cloud to witness such a rare and marvelous sight!

The Rotten Peach Mountain was shaped with high sides and a sunken center, where fallen peaches accumulated over time, forming a low-lying, damp basin where the rare and deadly peach-mud miasma brewed.

Centuries had passed, each layer of toxic mud settling and growing more potent, the lowest layers slowly seeping underground. As peaches fell year after year and the toxic mud sank deeper, it gradually linked with the subterranean fires of the Southern Wastes!

All knew the Southern Wastes were rich in earthfire, but who could have guessed that beneath this hundred-acre peach grove there lay a hidden fire-pit?

The earthfire entangled with the toxic miasma; the miasma, in turn, was tempered by the flames. Over countless years, this produced a malevolent force that hollowed out the land beneath Rotten Peach Mountain!

Now, with unending rains, the low-lying center of the mountain had become a great marsh. Yet how could the thin crust of earth below bear the weight of such a lake?

Thus, with a thunderous roar, the ground gave way. The waters poured into the deep chasm, and a surge of malevolent energy burst forth, soaring into the sky.

This force, born of entwined miasma and earthfire, blazed with the colors of peach blossoms and the brilliance of flames—a vision of dazzling, unparalleled beauty, radiant with countless auspicious lights.