Chapter Eighteen: The Tower of Scattered Stars

“What happened? How could this be?” Huai Yin stepped carefully, avoiding the bodies strewn across the ground.

He’d searched nearly everywhere inside and out. Most of the victims were members of Starlit Tower, but there were plenty among them who had simply come to propose marriage.

Now, all of them were corpses.

Crimson blood soaked every inch beneath his feet.

For an instant, he wasn’t sure whether to feel fortunate or just fortunate—had he arrived sooner, would he be lying among them now?

“There’s still residual warmth. They can’t have been dead long. Let’s look around—perhaps there’s a survivor.” Su He crouched to inspect a body, his expression growing grave.

None of these people had offered any resistance before they died.

Apart from a single fatal wound at the neck, there were no other injuries.

Whoever did this had been capable of slaughtering everyone at Starlit Tower without leaving a trace—an extraordinary feat.

Starlit Tower had three main pavilions at the front and seven smaller towers at the back. Now, the whole sect had been wiped out.

Yet the sword marks…

Huai Yin nodded. He and Su He had hurried here, racing up the mountainside until their legs nearly gave out. But before they could even begin, the home of their young master had become a massacre site.

Suddenly recalling the young master at the summit, Huai Yin stepped quickly over the bodies. “Search here. I’ll check on the young master.”

Su He released the wrist of the corpse he'd been examining and stood. “I’ll join you.”

“Alright.” Huai Yin hesitated for a moment, guessing the reason, and didn’t delay any further.

But when they reached Fei Xing Pavilion at the summit, the scene inside was no different from what they’d found halfway up the mountain.

“Brother Huai?” Su He nudged Huai Yin, who was blocking the doorway.

“Oh… Forgive me. Let’s check inside.” Huai Yin snapped out of his daze and slipped into the inner chamber.

Yet the sight before him was still unbearable. The one he held in highest esteem—their young master, unmatched in beauty, temperament, and cultivation—now lay lifeless in a pool of blood.

For a moment, it was as if he’d lost his soul, oblivious to everything around him.

Su He, seeing his state, could only step forward and examine the young master. He produced a vial from his sleeve, poured out two pills, and fed them to her. Then, channeling his own vital energy, he sent it coursing into her body.

Soon, the figure on the ground slowly regained consciousness.

Her eyes, luminous and gentle, seemed to outshine the world’s beauty.

Her voice, as melodious as an oriole’s song, whispered, “Thank you.”

Then, frail as gossamer, she said, “I am as good as dead already, benefactor. Please, do not waste your vital energy on me.”

“The journey is not yet at an end, young master,” Su He replied with a frown, channeling more energy into her body like a rushing river.

Yi Qingchen gazed up at him, seeing clarity and brilliance in his eyes. She steeled herself, refusing to let her consciousness slip away. “Since you came here for a purpose, benefactor, do not hesitate to say what you need. Though Starlit Tower has suffered calamity, we have never left a debt of gratitude unpaid.”

Su He looked up—what a clever woman.

But there was no time for admiration. He said, “To be honest, I came seeking the egg-stone of the Imperial Phoenix. I’ve heard your tower possesses one. Is it true?”

“There… is… one. Please, help me up and I’ll lead you to it…” Yi Qingchen tried to rise, but the effort nearly overwhelmed her injuries.

“My apologies.” Su He nodded, then lifted her gently in his arms.

“Which way to the study?”

“Out the door and to the right, the last room at the end…” The unexpected gesture brought a flush of color to Yi Qingchen’s pale cheeks.

Though cultivators cared little for propriety, this was the first time she’d ever been carried in a man’s arms.

Her heart pounded uncontrollably, a subtle and inexplicable shyness winding through her.

By the time they left the room, Huai Yin finally came to his senses. What had he just seen? His young master had been carried away by another!

“Hey—wait for me! What’s going on with you two?” Huai Yin darted to the door, gripping the frame, nearly stumbling.

“To the study,” Su He said without turning, his arms full.

“The study? Oh—wait for me! You haven’t told me what you’re doing in there yet!” Huai Yin chased them all the way to the door, but as he reached the threshold, a sudden force sent him tumbling backward. Only after several steps did he regain his footing.

It was quick reflexes that saved him from injury. Instantly, he gathered his robes at his waist and charged into the study like an arrow loosed from a bowstring.

Inside, Su He was locked in fierce combat with a masked figure in black, whose voluminous cloak made it impossible to tell their gender.

Yi Qingchen, leaning on a bookshelf, slowly slid to the floor, pointing at the hooded figure. “He… he’s stolen the egg-stone…”

With those words, her strength gave out, and she collapsed, her fate uncertain.

Huai Yin hefted his broadsword, his gaze darting between Su He and Yi Qingchen. He gritted his teeth—never mind, best to fulfill his master’s orders. Beauty could wait.

He shouted, “Brother, I’ll help you!”

In an instant, sword and blade together encircled the hooded figure in a deadly dance.

The masked one laughed coldly. “I’m in a good mood today. I don’t mind granting you both a way out.”

“Such arrogance! Do you think you can come and go as you please?” Huai Yin blocked the way, forming seals with both hands. At once, his blade transformed into a silver wolf, unleashing a freezing breath.

Each flake of frost became a blade of air, howling toward the hooded figure with the force to topple mountains.

“Such insolence—did no one teach you manners?” the masked figure sneered, absorbing the onslaught with a twist of the palm.

The towering silver wolf dissolved in an instant, and the broadsword nearly slipped from Huai Yin’s control.

Sensing danger, Huai Yin clasped his hands, channeling energy like a butterfly weaving through flowers. His aura exploded outward: “Heaven moves with clouds, wind moves with rain, the cosmos takes form, and the law is unyielding. Return!”

He managed to pull the broadsword back just a little, sweat beading on his brow.

The hooded figure, meanwhile, seemed to be toying with him, as if strolling through a garden.

Seizing the chance, Su He angled his sword at the masked one’s brow, then spun and struck at the eight-treasure bronze box in the left hand.

With Huai Yin on his right and Su He on his left, the masked figure faced attacks from both sides—one an unrelenting storm of swordplay, the other a defensive mastery, unhurried and implacable.

“Young ones, why not kneel and beg? Even with another thousand years of practice, you’re no match for me. If you ask, I just might spare you. Consider it?”

The voice was laced with mockery beneath the hood.

What surprises could these children possibly offer?

In unison, the two replied, “Never.”

“I’d rather die in battle than let a shameless wretch like you take me.” Huai Yin spat, murder in his eyes.

“Boasting is the province of the weak,” the hooded one retorted.

“Then let’s see whose blade is sharper!” Su He released his sword, manipulating it with his left hand, conjuring ethereal energy with his right. The twin swords complemented each other, their power redoubling.

The bronze box shuddered and was flung from the masked figure’s grasp.

Su He rejoiced, wrapping his spiritual sword around the box, drawing it back toward himself.

With the egg-stone, hope for restoration was in sight.

“Do you think it would be so easy to take it from me?” The masked one’s palm tightened.

Huai Yin poured all his energy into holding his broadsword and restraining the masked figure. “What are you trying to do?”

“What else? Destroy the world’s most beautiful things.”

“You—bastard!”

“For example, the hopes of fools.” With that, the masked figure’s hand clenched.

Su He, unable to withdraw in time, watched as both his spiritual sword and the bronze box shattered into dust.

Inside, the Imperial Phoenix’s egg-stone was reduced to ash.

Sparkling fragments faded into nothingness.

Su He himself was caught in the blast, hurled against the wall in a heavy crash.

“Ugh…”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. So fragile. What right do weaklings like you have to hope? Hope is reserved for the strong alone.”

“Cough… cough…”

“Shut up,” Huai Yin snapped, trying repeatedly to recall his broadsword. But the enemy’s strength was monstrous—he was beyond human.

This was an utter fiend: not content to beat them down, he pressed salt into every wound.

Wherever it hurt, that’s where he struck…

Su He braced himself on his elbow, trying again and again to rise, but every time he managed to get up, the masked figure would pin him down with a finger, forcing him to the ground.

He said nothing, nor did he beg. Each time he fell, he tried again.

Again and again, until bright blood bubbled from his lips.

“That’s enough! Bullying the wounded is nothing to boast about. If you’re going to kill someone, kill me instead.” Huai Yin couldn’t bear to watch. Su He usually seemed easygoing, but whenever that wastrel’s affairs were involved, he became impossibly stubborn.

The masked figure gave a low chuckle, glancing at Huai Yin. “Are you sure?”

Huai Yin felt as if he’d been seen through, but he didn’t back down. “I’m sure. Do it.”

“How boring. Slaying a couple of kittens like you would be beneath me. I’ll come collect this debt when you’ve grown stronger.” The masked figure shook his head, and with a sudden motion, vanished into the void.

The broadsword, suddenly freed, caused Huai Yin to spit a mouthful of blood. He staggered, then steadied himself, picking up his weapon and Su He’s sword as well.

Wiping his lips, he muttered, “Where did this old monster come from? Could it be… from there?”

Su He forced himself to sit up, took some medicine, and began to meditate on the spot. “No.”

Huai Yin was puzzled by his certainty. “Why not?”

“If it were, neither of us would still be alive.”

Given that one’s methods, anything nearby would have been wiped out.

“…You two really are the most ill-fated of kin.”

For a father and son to end up like this—there was no equal.

“Brother Huai, if you have time to sigh, why not check on the young master? She probably didn’t escape the chaos unharmed.”

“You’re right! Why didn’t you say so sooner? Young master, please, hang in there!”

Huai Yin helped her up, but the moment he checked her pulse, his face turned green.

“Well?” Su He opened his eyes at once.

“It… seems… she’s gone.” Their young master—so full of life—dead in her prime.

Su He frowned. He’d given her medicine to sustain her breath; this shouldn’t have happened.

“Let me see.”

He rose, inserted a golden needle into her brow, and sent his consciousness sweeping through her organs.

Moments later, he withdrew the needle.

“How is she?” Surely she wasn’t truly dead?

“She still breathes, but her energy is sealed inside her. Ordinary methods won’t revive her—we’ll need help.” With that, he bent to pick her up.

“You’re injured—let me carry her,” Huai Yin said, tugging at Su He’s sleeve and draping her across his own shoulder.

Su He glanced at Yi Qingchen—saving her was what mattered—then handed her over.

“So, where to? Who do we find?” Delighted to have the beauty on his back, Huai Yin asked.

“Weiye Valley.”