It had transformed into a roiling black current—which was now flowing away from him!
Stunned, Xie Lian turned to look. At the end of the long street, there stood a black-clad warrior who gripped a long, black sword.
Wuming?
Xie Lian had ordered him to leave the area while he activated the plague of Human Face Disease. Why was he here now?
Xie Lian had no idea what Wuming was doing here, but he was only stunned for a moment before he charged toward him. “Wait! What are you doing?! Don’t touch that! Give me back the sword!”
Wuming seemed to have heard his voice and looked up. Xie Lian couldn’t see his real face; he only saw that mask with its drawn-on smile.
But Xie Lian had a strange feeling that beneath his mask, Wuming was really smiling.
The feeling was fleeting, however. The vast black torrent and the screaming tide gathered to form a tempest, and it swallowed Wuming whole in an instant.
And in that instant, Xie Lian heard a heart-wrenching, blood-curdling scream.
He thought he had heard that voice somewhere before… No, he knew he had heard that voice somewhere before!
Pain. It hurt like he was feeling the same agony. It hurt like a fate worse than death. It hurt so much that his mind and body were being torn apart. It hurt so much he thudded to his knees, hugging his head as he screamed along too.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah !”
The explosion of excruciating pain in his heart came suddenly and left equally fast, and after some unknown time had passed, silence slowly descended upon the area. Xie Lian gradually dropped the hands that hugged his head.
Dazed, he looked up and scanned around him. The ground was covered with people, most of them unconscious. But all the vengeful spirits entangling them had vanished.
The scene confused him. What happened to the plague of Human Face Disease? What happened to the vengeful spirits?
What happened to him?
There was no trace of the black torrent. The only thing that remained where the black-clad nameless ghost had once stood was the black sword, which had fallen to the ground. Beside the point of the fallen blade, there was a tiny white flower.
Xie Lian staggered to his feet and walked over, picking up the flower and the sword.
He felt his face, looked at his arms. Nothing on his body seemed different—there was nothing to indicate he’d taken on some powerful curse. As he stood there, mystified, he heard a voice behind him.
It said softly, “Ah.”
Xie Lian turned around. White No-Face was standing behind him, his arms crossed and tucked into his expansive sleeves, which fluttered in the wind. Xie Lian hadn’t yet processed what had happened, but he felt a vague sense of foreboding.
White No-Face glanced at him and started chuckling. The sense of foreboding was growing stronger, and Xie Lian knitted his brows.
“What are you laughing about?”
Instead of answering, White No-Face asked him, “You still don’t understand what happened?”
“What?” Xie Lian asked.
“Do you know who that ghost was?” White No-Face asked.
“A… A soul of someone who died on the battlefield?” Xie Lian tried.
“Yes,” White No-Face replied. “But he was also your very last believer in the world. And now, he’s no more.”
Believer…?
He still had a believer in this world?
It was a long moment before Xie Lian could squeeze out a few choked words. “What do you mean…no more?”
“His soul has been dispersed,” White No-Face replied languidly.
Xie Lian had a hard time accepting this. “How did his soul just disperse?!”
“Because he was cursed on your behalf. The souls you summoned devoured him whole, leaving not a crumb behind,” White No-Face said.
Xie Lian couldn’t manage a reply.
The souls he summoned? Cursed on his behalf?!
“Oh yes, that’s right. This wasn’t the first time you’ve met him,” White No-Face continued.
Xie Lian stared at him blankly. White No-Face seemed amused.
“That ghost had been following you for a while. At first, I thought he was simply deeply resentful, so I caught and interrogated him; his answers were quite interesting. The Zhongyuan Festival. A night of lanterns. A wandering ghost fire. Do you remember?”
“The Zhongyuan Festival? Night of lanterns? Wandering ghost fire?” Xie Lian mumbled.
“In life, he was a soldier under your command,” White No-Face lazily hinted. “In death, his soul followed you. He died in battle for you, turned into a wrath ghost because you were pierced by a hundred swords. And now, his soul has been obliterated because you unleashed the plague of Human Face Disease.”
Xie Lian seemed to vaguely recall something, but he hadn’t even seen his believer’s face, he didn’t even know his name—what could he recall? How much could he really recall?
“Perhaps Your Highness has believers here who still offer worship.”
Yes. There was a believer.
And he had been the one and only!
White No-Face was still speaking, going on and on about many things, but Xie Lian was lost in a daze and took none of it in.
Finally, White No-Face concluded, “A god like you is both sad and laughable. And he’s even more sad and laughable to have believed in you.”
“…”
When White No-Face had mocked him earlier, Xie Lian hadn’t reacted. But when he heard this creature insult his believer so condescendingly, it was like Xie Lian was jolted awake by the stab of a sword. An uncontrollable rage roiled up from within him and he charged at White No-Face. The creature easily seized him.
“You can’t win against me like this. How many times must I tell you before you see the truth?” White No-Face said coldly.
Xie Lian hadn’t wanted to win against him in the first place, and it didn’t matter if he couldn’t. He simply wanted to beat the creature to a pulp.
“What do you know?! How dare you mock him!” he cried angrily.
That was his last believer in this world!
“Of course I dare to mock the follower of a failure,” White No-Face replied. “You’re a fool, and your believer is even more of a fool. Listen! If you wish to defeat me, then you must obey my teachings. Otherwise, you can never dream of winning against me!”
Xie Lian wanted to spit at him with everything he had, but even breathing was difficult. White No-Face opened his hand with a flourish, and another cry-smiling mask appeared in his palm.
“Now, let us start over!”
As he was about to press the mask onto Xie Lian’s face, there came a sudden, loud rumbling.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared on the horizon, and a mysterious light shot from within the clouds. White No-Face stopped in alarm.
“What is this? A Heavenly Tribulation…?” After a pause, he dismissed that statement. “No, that’s not it!”
That wasn’t it.
It was a Heavenly Tribulation, but that wasn’t all!
A man’s deep voice resounded across the entire sky. “If he cannot win against you, what about me?”
Xie Lian’s head shot up.
A martial god had appeared at the end of the long street. He was clad in white armor and brimmed with a propitious aura. A thin sheen of white spiritual light enveloped his body, and he walked toward them step by step with sword in hand, carving out a path of light in this gloomy, dark world.
Xie Lian’s eyes grew wide.
Jun Wu!
***
After the rain had ceased and the skies had cleared, Xie Lian sat on the burnt earth, panting lightly.
Jun Wu sheathed his sword and walked over. “Xianle. Welcome back to the ranks.”
He wore a tired expression, traces of blood still on his face from the wounds inflicted by White No-Face. Jun Wu was covered in injuries, large and small. They were serious, but White No-Face’s wounds were far more so—his body had been ripped apart and his form had been dispersed, leaving behind only a shattered cry-smiling mask.
