Chapter 54 — A Song Before the Gods
Inside the cave, the truth unraveled like a coiled snake striking at last. The ritual scene before them—torches burning low, two pale figures bound to altars, and a woman weeping in prayer—was a lie. An illusion. The girl at the center rose from the stage, lips curling in cruel delight. Her laughter broke through the illusion like shattering glass.
"You idiots," she sneered, eyes gleaming with the fervor of a zealot.
Xinyu and Mochen were already fighting off the two men who had attacked them, blades flashing in the dim light, but it was too late—the alarm had been sounded. From every dark tunnel, footsteps thundered in like waves, the silhouettes of guards surging toward them. They were surrounded, backs pressed together, breath steady.
Mochen stood to Xinyu's left, his expression unreadable. A red light coiled in his palm like a living thing, rippling up his arm as if awakened. His eyes turned a deep, feral red, something ancient stirring beneath the surface. It was the first time he had bared his power before Xinyu—and it was monstrous.
The cave became a battlefield.
Xinyu's sword danced like moonlight on black water. His form had improved; his strikes were clean, purposeful, charged with a flow of qi so refined it cut through flesh and bone like silk. He turned just in time to parry a blow aimed at his back, spinning mid-air and striking the attacker to the ground.
Mochen, meanwhile, fought like a reaper. Silent, relentless. He seized a man by the throat and crushed his windpipe with a sickening snap, then hurled another into a wall so hard blood sprayed from his mouth before he even hit the ground.
"They're like ants," he muttered coldly, stepping over fallen bodies.
At the stage, the girl grew uneasy. "This can't be…" she whispered. "How are they this strong?"
She reached for her pipa.
A sharp note sliced the air like a whip. The pipa glowed faintly as she played, each chord infused with demonic qi. Sound itself became a weapon. A ripple of pressure surged forward—Xinyu staggered. Mochen caught him, steadying him just as another strike came. The girl floated above them, poised like a specter, her face serene.
When Mochen tried to leap toward her, she played a harsh note—he dropped midair, crashing down, blood staining his lip.
"You're… the girl from the performer's house," Xinyu breathed, stunned. "You charmed the whole town. Why do this?"
Her feet touched the ground softly, almost reverently, her pipa cradled like a weapon. She turned to Xinyu, laughter fading.
"Proud?" she echoed. "Happy? Loved?"
A pause. Then a long, slow smile—like glass cracking.
"They're parasites," she said, voice trembling with rage. "Frauds. Back when I was nothing, no one gave a damn about my face or my talent. They looked down on me, spat on me, judged me because my family was poor. Even the man I loved—he left me for someone with money."
Her eyes were dark pools of loathing.
"Only my adoptive father ever saw me. Understood me. He gave me life. So I'll repay him with blood."
Her smile returned—too wide, teeth flashing.
"These townspeople never questioned the sacrifices. As long as they lived under his 'blessing,' they turned a blind eye. He tested them. They failed. Now they die. Humans are filth—worse than beasts."
Xinyu remained silent, breathing hard. Her words wormed into him like cold wind under skin. For a flicker of a moment, he thought of his own parents. The blood. The betrayal. The rage.
But then he remembered the butcher Tu, how gently he held his daughter. Tang Tang's soft voice in the market. Lingque laughing beneath the lanterns. Something inside him steadied.
"You're not wrong," he said quietly. "Human greed is endless. But love still exists. It flickers—maybe faintly—but it's there. You just chose to look away."
Mochen looked at him then—something unreadable in his eyes, his clenched fist easing.
The girl scoffed, uninterested in righteousness. Her pipa sang again, deadly tones lashing out like invisible blades. Xinyu dodged, moving with growing instinct.
Mochen tried to flank her from behind but was struck in the shoulder—he grunted, falling.
"Shidi!" Xinyu shouted.
He surged forward, blade flashing. Their clash became a dance of sound and steel, her chords growing sharper, faster. One wrong step and he was caught—his limbs freezing mid-motion. She stepped forward slowly, her pipa falling silent, eyes gleaming with possession.
She reached for him. Her fingers grazed his face—soft, almost admiring.
"A pity," she whispered. "With a face like this, I could've kept you. But Father wants you dead."
Her hand trailed down to his neck.
Then she froze.
Her eyes caught something at the base of Xinyu's throat.
A mark.
Her brows twitched, confusion flashing in her gaze. She didn't speak—but clearly, she'd seen something she hadn't expected. Something important.
At that moment, Mochen surged up in fury, striking her down. The enchantment snapped—Xinyu stumbled, regaining control. His collar had slipped open; Mochen tugged it closed, jaw tight, shielding the mark from view.
The girl was dazed on the ground, but not broken. She whispered to herself, "I must tell Yifu…"
She scrambled to her feet and played again—but this time, her notes were no longer for attack. They were a message.
Xinyu steadied Mochen, one hand braced against his chest. They both stared at her, uncertain.
Then Hua Ling's qi flared in the distance.
He was coming.
In another part of the cave, Hua Ling sprinted, blood pounding in his ears. Xinyu's presence was close—he could feel it in his bones. But he stopped when he came upon a prison of metal bars, pale faces inside, eyes sunken, bodies starved of life.
"Gongzi!" a girl cried, crawling forward. "Please, help us…"
Hua Ling's sword slashed through the lock.
Dozens of prisoners spilled out, skin like paper, lips cracked from thirst.
"Who did this?" Hua Ling demanded.
A trembling man spoke. "Demon Xu… he drains our life qi every month. He's kept us here for over a year."
Some were only sixteen. Others barely older than children.
"Where is his main chamber?" Hua Ling barked.
They pointed. Without another word, he ran.
Back in the chamber, the pipa girl smiled.
"I've bought enough time."
Her fingers struck a final note.
A figure stepped into the chamber. A man in red robes, his eyes lined with thick crimson, demonic energy seeping from his pores like venom.
"Yifu," she called, pleased. "You're here."
Xinyu turned—his sword raised.
It was Mister Xu.
But now, his true self was unveiled.
Before Xinyu could move, he lunged—one hand grabbing his collar, the other sealing off his qi.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
He collapsed in her arms.
She gently lowered him to the floor, brushing his hair aside. "Yifu," she whispered, her voice tinged with awe. "Look what I've found."
Xu's eyes fell to the exposed skin beneath Xinyu's collar.
His expression changed.
A long, eerie silence.
Then he began to laugh.
"Hahahahaha—this… this is it. The mark the Demon Lord carved in blood war… on this boy? Hahaha! Good, very good…"
The girl smiled, satisfied.
The nightmare had only just begun.