In the instant Jiang Chen saw the small skeleton, his emotions surged.
Shriek!
A sharp whistling split the air.
Jiang Chen's wrist turned. In an impossible fraction of time, he had already raised his sheathed sword behind him, blocking the sharp projectile with a metallic clash.
He spun and drew in one fluid motion, already glimpsing the attacker — a pale finger bone. Before thought could catch up, his body had turned again.
The little girl's skeleton on the bed had leaped into the air, its skull-mouth gaping wide, lunging to bite him.
Jiang Chen did not hesitate. He kicked it squarely in the head, slamming it back onto the bed. Then his sword flashed like purple lightning in the dark room, severing every joint in that tiny skeleton before it could settle — lying on the bed exactly as before, as if it had never moved.
"Heh heh heh heh. Little Daoist, you seem quite angry that I killed this girl. Yet her final remains were destroyed by your own hand."
The voice was sharp and piercing, drifting and ethereal, with no clear source.
This kind of trace-concealing illusion technique was not simple. It meant the enemy in hiding had planned this in advance.
Jiang Chen's foundation was incomplete. His five senses were unopened, and he had no way to pierce such illusions. But he was not panicked. According to what he had learned at the Academy, he had two deductions: first, the enemy's level was not too high. If they were truly powerful, they would not need illusions at all — they could have killed him instantly.
From that, his second deduction: limited by the enemy's strength, the illusion's grade could not be too high. The enemy would break it automatically upon attacking, being attacked, or even moving. Evidence for this was that the first attack had only manipulated a corpse skeleton rather than striking personally.
"You killed her. You destroyed her remains. Heretic tricks cannot shake my mind!"
Jiang Chen moved with his sword. In moments he had circled the entire small room, sword light nearly illuminating every corner!
Violet Dawn Sword Art — First Killing Form!
In the instant the room blazed with light, all that radiance converged. Jiang Chen seemed to grasp the gathered sword light in one hand and slashed straight down!
The closed door burst open.
Zhang Yuan stood outside, faint lightning playing at his fingertips.
"The two skeletons outside were manipulated and rose just now. I blasted them to ash. What happened in here?"
"I was attacked too. I cannot break his illusion. But my sword still wounded him!" Jiang Chen shook his sword, and a drop of fresh blood fell from the tip.
Zhang Yuan caught the blood drop in his palm. It hovered there, a perfect crimson pearl. "With this, tracking the heretic will not be difficult."
A trace of approval crossed his face. "Junior Brother Jiang, you have earned great merit on this mission."
Jiang Chen's eyes searched the room, but no other bloodstains appeared. "Senior Brother Zhang, the heretic may not have fled."
Zhang Yuan tucked the blood pearl away, closed his eyes to sense for a moment, then shook his head. "No trace remains."
Almost as his words fell, the corpse energy filling the courtyard dissipated in an instant.
"Let's go." Zhang Yuan put away the blood pearl. "There are no useful clues here anymore. Give this blood to Vice Dean Song. He is skilled in the Six Divinations. He will root out this heretic."
The psychological impact of this trip was unlike anything Jiang Chen had experienced. Mountain bandits were criminals, yes, but compared to heretics who massacred entire families and then desecrated and manipulated their remains afterward, they were nothing.
He had seen the cruel face of the cultivation world. Extraordinary power could breed extraordinary cruelty.
Jiang Chen wanted to look back at the little girl's skeleton. He found he could not.
Then Zhang Yuan said: "The Punishment Bureau investigated once and found nothing. Yet the moment we arrived, we were attacked. That is highly suspicious."
"Senior Brother means..."
"Hmph." Zhang Yuan laughed coldly twice.
Entering the inner Academy, Jiang Chen had wanted only to cultivate. He had no wish to be drawn into the struggle between Dean Dong and Wei Lin. But Zhang Yuan had just pointed directly at that possibility.
Unfortunately, he still had no right to refuse.
"Junior Brother Jiang's swordsmanship is extraordinary — far beyond the crude techniques collected by our Academy." Zhang Yuan spoke as if making a casual observation.
Jiang Chen replied: "For us Daoists, swordsmanship is ultimately a minor path. Senior Brother's lightning arts are what truly astonish."
The two skeletons in the main hall and courtyard were already gone, leaving only ash on the ground. Jiang Chen could almost picture the scene — the skeletons had just been manipulated, not even able to move, before Zhang Yuan's lightning blasted them to nothing.
"Too modest. Our Daoist sword arts are second to none, but unfortunately our Maple City Academy has no master of that path. In all of Zhuang, only the national Academy might." Zhang Yuan's tone held genuine regret.
Daoism did have sword arts that channeled Dao power, fierce and sharp, matching ordinary sword cultivators. But they were not mainstream, and the Maple City Academy lacked masters to guide such study.
Jiang Chen had no mood for conversation at all, but he could not ignore Zhang Yuan. He offered a casual compliment: "With Senior Brother's talent, advancing to the national Academy is only a matter of time."
"Yes. Only a matter of time." Zhang Yuan suddenly sighed, standing in the courtyard and gazing into the distance — toward the Qichang Mountains. "But early and late are different things. I often feel a knife at my back. Every moment presses."
This elegant, talented young nobleman who favored cleanliness and refinement — the anxiety and sorrow in his voice rang true.
Jiang Chen fell silent. Did he not also want to grow stronger faster, to reach the place he should have gone long ago?
Every moment counted.
"Beyond those mountains lies the State of Yong." Zhang Yuan said, "If the heretic escapes into Yong territory, we can no longer pursue."
Jiang Chen knew why he said this.
The State of Zhuang had stood for over three hundred years. Its founding ancestor, Zhuang Chengqian, had been a general of Yong who carved out a thousand li of territory and seized the moment of Yong's three-princes succession war to declare independence. Through alliances and strategy, he established Daoism as the state religion and aligned with the powerful State of Jing, which shared the same Daoist tradition. Only then did Zhuang stabilize and survive to the present.
But because of that history, Zhuang and Yong had always been at odds.
Zhuang's enemies might find welcome in Yong.
Jiang Chen said nothing. He only followed Zhang Yuan silently out of the courtyard.
Tang Dun rushed up from outside, eyes bright with hope. "How did it go? Is the heretic destroyed?"
He had heard the commotion from beyond the gate and knew fighting had occurred inside.
"We have a lead." Jiang Chen turned to Zhang Yuan. "Senior Brother, may I borrow some money?"
Zhang Yuan asked no questions and tossed him a purse.
Jiang Chen weighed it briefly and took out the smallest silver piece — he had wanted copper coins, but Zhang Yuan's purse held only gold and silver.
Jiang Chen pressed the silver into Tang Dun's rough hand. "There is a little girl's skeleton inside. Please use this to buy her a coffin and bury her. The two piles of ash in the courtyard are her parents. Bury them together."
Tang Dun's weathered face darkened, but he pushed Jiang Chen's hand away firmly. "I'll handle their burial. I can't take your money."
"Take it." Jiang Chen forced the silver into his palm. "Consider it payment for my peace of mind."
Tang Dun's constable uniform bore patches — his family was not well-off. Being assigned to receive Jiang Chen and Zhang Yuan, this clearly unwanted delegation, marked him as marginal even in the local government.
He could not pull free. He gripped Jiang Chen's hand tight. "I thank you for Niu'er on her behalf!"
So her name was Niu'er.
The canvas on the wall seemed to appear before his eyes again. She had tried, in her childish way, to keep a spring alive. But her life never bloomed again.
Niu'er. Niu'er.
Jiang Chen silently repeated the name in his heart, as if tying some responsibility to the thread of his Dao heart.