Chapter Fifty-Six: Fear

Chapter Fifty-Six: Fear

With utmost care, Chunyu Qian reached into his storage pouch and retrieved a transparent jade vial containing two pills that shimmered with silvery light. At just a single glance, Fang Junmei found himself unable to look away, as if enchanted. The two pills, agleam with silver brilliance, did not rest at the bottom of the vial but danced within it as if they were living beings—each movement full of spirit and vitality.

Upon closer inspection, he discovered the silvery glow was formed by countless fine, sword-like rays interwoven together, as if an unparalleled celestial sword lay concealed within each pill.

"Boy, do you see this?" Chunyu Qian intoned, his voice deep and distant. "This is the Blood-Refining Pill. Look at those silver sword-lights—do you still doubt my alchemical skill?"

Fang Junmei nodded, this time with utter sincerity.

"When you take this pill in a moment, and feel yourself reaching your limit, think of Gu Xijin, think of Long Jinyi, think of all the rivals you wish to surpass, think of the grand sect competition that’s fast approaching, think of your master, and of all those who have placed their hopes in you!"

Once again, Chunyu Qian poured out his earnest encouragement, his gaze burning as it fixed on Fang Junmei. "And then—pass this trial for me. Show me the effects of the medicine!"

Fang Junmei nodded again, his eyes now resolute.

"Open your mouth!"

Chunyu Qian commanded coldly.

Fang Junmei obeyed, and Chunyu Qian, wrapping a pill in a sheath of spiritual power, flicked it into his mouth. Only after seeing him swallow it did Chunyu Qian finally leave the secret chamber, closing the heavy door behind him.

Now, alone in the chamber, Fang Junmei faced his final ordeal.

...

Bang!

As soon as the pill entered, an explosion resounded within him! The Blood-Refining Pill detonated inside Fang Junmei, sending waves of excruciating pain through his organs. He quickly gathered his mind, sat cross-legged, and focused his spiritual sense inward.

What he saw stunned him. Countless silver-white threads, like electric currents or sword-lights, rampaged madly through his body, as if dragons unleashed from their cages.

Pain!

Agony!

Soon, the pain from every part of his body became unbearable. The sword-lights began to drive themselves into every inch of his bones, as though trying to burrow inside. The sensation was indescribable. Every single bone was being cracked open, every bone fractured—including his skull!

This was undoubtedly among the most ruthless tortures in the world.

...

"Aaaah—"

Fang Junmei screamed in anguish. In a split second, he nearly leapt up, clutching his head, his legs, his whole body, ready to roll in agony.

But—he had endured six trials already. Gritting his teeth with all his strength, he forced himself to remain seated, enduring this inhuman torment through sheer willpower.

Very soon, sweat poured from his brow like rain, and blood seeped from his clenched teeth, trickling from the corners of his mouth down to his chin, drop by drop.

...

As time dragged on, Fang Junmei could no longer focus his will against the pain in his bones. Illusions began to invade his mind.

In a dim, blood-red world, a massive shadow like a pool sprawled across the land. On closer look, it was not water but a pool of blood, its color so vivid that the stench of blood seemed to assault his senses.

Within the pool, pillars of radiant, multicolored light flickered, sometimes bright, sometimes dim. At the heart of each light, he saw swords—of every length and width, each with a different form. Every sword pointed downward, plunged into the blood pool. There must have been thousands, even tens of thousands of swords, a sight that chilled him to the bone.

Now, under some mysterious influence, each sword trembled violently, emitting a resonant hum.

Fang Junmei suddenly found himself standing at the very center of the blood pool, feet submerged in the crimson liquid, dazed and uncertain of what was happening.

Zheng—

A shrill, piercing sound erupted as a sword vibrated to its limit.

Fang Junmei’s eyes flashed as he turned toward the sound. He saw a longsword, about four feet long, rise from the bloody surface and hover in the air, trembling violently with an azure glow.

Whoosh—

In the next instant, the sword snapped its tip upward and shot straight toward him.

Fang Junmei, eyes sharp, instinctively reached for his storage pouch to draw his trusted sword, but his hand grasped only empty air—the pouch at his waist was as insubstantial as a phantom.

He tried for the peachwood sword always hanging at his side—again, nothing but emptiness.

Clearly, in this illusory world, all physical objects were useless.

The sword’s hum grew louder and closer.

Fang Junmei, his mind racing, dodged to the side to avoid the strike, hoping to use his cloud-stepping technique, but found he could not muster it—nor any other martial skill. He could only run on foot.

Splash, splash—

His footsteps sent ripples through the blood as he fled the pool.

The sword’s speed increased, closing in relentlessly!

Thud!

With a muffled impact, like lightning, the sword pierced straight through Fang Junmei’s chest and exited his back.

Blood gushed from the wound as searing pain flared. Stunned, Fang Junmei’s tall and strong body toppled backward, crashing to the ground with a thunderous thud, eyes wide open, staring at the illusory sky.

Was he dead so easily?

What sort of trial was this Blood-Refining Pill?

Though he lay motionless on the ground, seemingly dead, Fang Junmei’s mind still turned, and he could hear the humming of swords, though he could not move a muscle.

...

Zheng—

Another sword shrieked, vibrating to its limit.

Though Fang Junmei could not turn his head, soon another sword flew from the side and plunged mercilessly into his body, swift and remorseless.

His body, already dead from the first strike, could feel nothing more. Yet his conscious mind quivered ever so slightly at the blow.

Zheng—

A third sword!

A fourth!

A fifth!

...

One after another, the swords plunged into Fang Junmei’s body in relentless succession.

With each shrill sword cry, his mind’s spirit trembled more and more violently. Some emotion began to take root and grow within him.

That emotion was—fear.

He feared the sword.

He feared the weapon he had loved most his entire life.