Chapter 50 Jar
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Pei Jing remained silent for a long time before softly calling out, “Chu… Junyu?”
It was the first time he heard Chu Junyu call his name. If felt so distant, yet real. Oddly, a strange feeling spread through his heart, and the world momentarily froze as dust and sword aura floated in the air.
Suddenly, he heard a squeaking sound.
A strong and vivid flash of blood emerged from behind the door.
Pei Jing looked up, his youthful face still showing a touch of innocence, revealing a dazed expression.
He struggled to push open the door that seemed immovable, but now it was gradually opening, little by little.
Despite appearing injured, Chu Junyu’s voice remained composed.
“Pei Yuzhi, stop him.”
Stop him.
The blood light pouring out from the door seemed to harm the group of monsters chasing him in a different way. Their bodies rotted, writhing as they crawled forward, filled with hatred towards Pei Jing, desperate to tear him apart.
Boom—
And now, the door finally opened.
It was an ordinary courtyard, but above it, countless blood-red chains intertwined, like a sealed formation, with a dark and bloody atmosphere filling the space.
At the center of the courtyard stood a large jar, the source of it all in this wicked world. However, it bathed in a pure white light, pure and clean beyond imagination.
The white light was soft and gentle, like the radiance of the sun, moon, and stars.
In the middle of the blood chains, in front of the tank, stood two people, a young man and a boy.
The moment Pei Jing stepped inside, he immediately drew his Cloud Slayer Sword, breaking the door, the light, and the chains, thrusting his sword directly at Shu Yan’s back.
He had to stop this lunatic!
His sword was only a meter away from Shu Yan’s back, but Zhang Qingshu quickly turned around.
The sword light landed on the scholar’s face, revealing a strange and mocking expression on his handsome yet world-weary face.
“So, you actually followed me here.”
Pei Jing gritted his teeth. “I don’t want to die with you!”
His sword pierced straight through Zhang Qingshu’s body. Emerging from the other side, slowly trickling down the blade, was inky black ink.
Zhang Qingshu remained motionless. He lowered his head to observe the dark hole in his chest slowly closing, his fingers stained with his own blood. With a calm demeanor, he said, “I cannot die. Unless I desire it, who in this world can kill me?”
Despite his words, his voice inadvertently alarmed another person—the boy standing beside Zhang Qingshu turned his head.
Pei Jing’s pupils contracted.
“Ji Wuyou.”
Space separated by iron chains, the boy held a massive stone in his hands. On the round-faced boy, there was an expression that Pei Jing had never seen before. It appeared as if he had lost his soul, yet gained a new one. Numbness and indifference dominated, with only a fleeting moment of astonishment dissipating quickly.
The boy glanced at Pei Jing briefly, his eyes filled with myriad emotions, before turning away.
Pei Jing glared angrily at Zhang Qingshu. “What have you done to him?”
“Does it matter?” Zhang Qingshu replied. “As I said, the person who determines your fate is someone you would never imagine.”
Zhang Qingshu never gave Pei Jing the impression of being a villain, or even a competent antagonist. He lacked the inclination to kill, growing weary and restless with everything.
Looking back now, he seemed more like a lunatic yearning for death.
Pei Jing muttered under his breath, too fed up to pay him any attention. He rushed forward to intercept Ji Wuyou but was abruptly hindered by the ink water surging beneath his feet, morphing into a grasping ink-formed palm.
Pei Jing exclaimed sharply, “Ji Wuyou! Turn around and look at me!”
Ji Wuyou’s figure trembled briefly, but he held onto the stone and continued stepping forward.
Standing by, Zhang Qingshu said, “Aren’t you the one who’s committed to vanquishing demons and evil spirits? Why are you trying to stop him? Let him smash that jar and eradicate all the monsters in this world. Isn’t that for the better?”
Pei Jing’s face grew stern. “I have my own means to destroy this place. You need not concern yourself.”
Zhang Qingshu responded, “Interesting. Even I cannot destroy it, yet you claim you can? Merely a fear of death, nothing more.
“You value your own life so much that you wouldn’t trade it for the peace of countless spirits in this place. You’re nothing but a lowly opportunist and a coward among the righteous sects.”
Pei Jing laughed in frustration.
His aura fluctuated, emitting a faint layer of blue light that cast upon his brows, eyes, and long hair, like a crystal of ice. He swiftly drew his sword and focused his thoughts on the third technique of the Yunxiao Sword Art. In an instant, icy blades shot up from the ground.
With him at the center, a sword array formed.
It shattered all the wickedness within a one-meter radius. The ink water beneath his feet gradually receded.
The young man stood with a sword on his back and said, “Don’t you know that as the dream of countless female cultivators in the cultivation world, my life is quite valuable?”
Half-suspended in mid-air, his hair fluttered in the wind, and a gathering of ice-blue spiritual energy surrounded him.
Clad in a gray-brown robe, he exuded an aura of elegance and purity.
His laughter was particularly boisterous, but to Zhang Qingshu, it seemed especially grating.
Pei Jing lazily said, “Having been afraid of death your whole life, it’s the first time someone has asked me to sacrifice myself for others—I’m not quite accustomed to it.”
Zhang Qingshu’s gaze remained fixed on him, and he, too, couldn’t help but laugh in anger.
“Very well, a person who fears death and lacks benevolence—die!”
As the word “die” fell, all the red locks in the air trembled, emitting an ear-piercing sound. The ground churned, and numerous ink-formed humanoid monsters emerged slowly from underground.
Zhang Qingshu held a brush in his hand, resembling the God of Literature in the Zhuangyuan Temple. His brows furrowed as he said, “If you want to take a step ahead, I shall send you on your way.”
Those figures, whether formed by ink or congealed blood, were indistinguishable. They appeared blackened, emitting a thick, foul stench. With their mouths wide open, one could see their bared white teeth. The ink creatures lunged at him, overwhelming the power of the sword array, which couldn’t hold for much longer.
Suddenly, there was a surge of movement outside the courtyard gate. Pei Jing turned his head in mid-air and noticed that those crawling humanoid monsters had escaped their torment and were flooding into the gate, their bodies decomposing.
With their crimson eyes wide open, their limbs darted forward, exuding a malevolent aura capable of corroding Pei Jing’s face.
These creatures had been bestowed with power from the jar, and being in close proximity to the source, their strength naturally surged.
Their sudden intrusion caused the red locks, which were supposed to guard this area, to tremble rapidly.
Damn it.
This was truly a case of “when it rains, it pours” and adding insult to injury.
Even Zhang Qingshu was momentarily stunned. Clearly, he also didn’t understand where these creatures had come from.
Pei Jing quickly regained his composure. Though his heart was in turmoil, he wore a faint smile on his face, as if everything was perfectly prepared. “What’s the matter? You’re allowed to summon reinforcements, but I’m not?”
Zhang Qingshu’s eyes widened in astonishment.
Pei Jing maintained his calm smile and extended his hand, issuing a command to the relentless army behind him. “Attack! Tear this wretched brat to pieces!”
It was evident that he had gathered enough momentum. Zhang Qingshu’s eyes remained inscrutable as his fingers formed a seal in the air. Instantly, the ink figures surrounding him transformed into water, seeping into the ground and reappearing by Zhang Qingshu’s side, forming a barrier.
Pei Jing was merely indulging in some banter, intending to startle Zhang Qingshu. He didn’t expect Zhang Qingshu to be so foolish. As the ink creatures vanished, Pei Jing quickly seized the opportunity. With one hand pulling out the Cloud Slayer Sword, which had formed a sword array underground, and his feet stepping on the blood locks in mid-air, he headed straight towards Ji Wuyou.
Zhang Qingshu sneered, “You think I’ll let you succeed?” However, before he could summon reinforcements, the group of monsters had already raced toward him from the entrance, their movements ghostly fast. After tearing and biting, the ink creatures collapsed to the ground, forming puddles of water beneath Zhang Qingshu’s feet. He froze, lowering his head, only to see numerous monsters raising their heads. They were not ferocious dogs but actual human beings, albeit disfigured and covered in blood. Their facial features were still faintly discernible. Crawling on all fours, one of them looked up at Zhang Qingshu, their eyes filled with despair, malice, resentment, and profound sorrow.
…They were the villagers who had been dragged into the village and transformed into monsters.
…And the one who created this village was him.
Pei Jing glanced back and saw Zhang Qingshu surrounded by the monsters. The young man’s face no longer displayed a jaded attitude but rather a distorted expression of shock and struggle. He was driving himself insane.
Pei Jing breathed a sigh of relief. He had initially expected a confrontation between two opposing forces, but it seemed they were preoccupied with their own infighting.
Now he understood that the development of these monsters was a result of the villagers’ hatred towards Zhang Qingshu. From the moment they were imprisoned in the jar, their animosity towards him had been growing.
A downpour of retribution had stirred up turmoil among them all.
How could these indestructible trump card monsters possibly be meant to deal with him, he wondered.
The villagers knew that Zhang Qingshu had returned. Returned to the Zhang family. So this time, they brought out all their hidden cards to kill this devil who had caused their deaths.
This group of monsters, their original enemies and target, was none other than Zhang Qingshu.
Pei Jing grabbed Ji Wuyou’s hand, causing the chubby boy to turn back in surprise. Ji Wuyou had a somewhat vacant expression, with large eyes and plain eyebrows.
His sudden appearance shattered the cold and numb facade, startling Ji Wuyou awake. In his eyes, there was profound resistance, fear, and sorrow.
Pei Jing thought that the chubby boy must have been terrified to the point of losing his senses.
Pei Jing struggled to force a smile and said, “Listen to me, I’ll take you back to Yunxiao.”
Ji Wuyou stared at him, tears suddenly streaming down his face. In the next moment, he violently struggled free from Pei Jing’s grip, holding a blood-stained boulder in his hands. Shaking his head, his voice filled with despair, he exclaimed, “No!”
Pei Jing was taken aback by his reaction.
Ji Wuyou stared at him intently, trembling all over. He was trapped in a nightmare, continuously shaking his head. Tears flowed incessantly as he mumbled incoherently, “You won’t care about me. No one likes me, no one will care about me. I rang the bell, but she didn’t come. She clearly heard it, she was on the wall. She even looked at me, and I was about to die. There’s someone inside the jar, there’s someone inside the jar. I’m going to die. I rang the bell, but she lied to me! She lied to me!”
The chubby boy tightly gripped the stone in his hand, exerting so much force that his fingers bled, but he couldn’t feel it anymore.
He had cried enough, but his eyes were filled with confusion. “He’s right, you don’t want me, you won’t come to save me, and it’s all true. It’s just that weak people don’t deserve to survive. I have to survive, I have to survive, I can only rely on myself.”
He stepped back, his body pressed against the edge of the jar. The jar’s wall was icy cold, but the surrounding white light gave him a strangely familiar and gentle sensation. Ji Wuyou murmured, “I have to survive, I have to survive…”
“—I have to survive!”
Suddenly, he let out a heart-wrenching roar, his expression instantly becoming ferocious. Veins bulged on his forehead as if a demon was awakening. His teenage eyes turned bloodshot, tears streaming down his face. He turned around, raising the stone in his hand, gritting his teeth, exerting all his strength to shatter the jar—the source of this ugly world.
With the stone held high, at the very moment he was about to strike down with all his might…
At the critical moment, Pei Jing couldn’t hesitate any longer. He stepped forward and struck Ji Wuyou unconscious with a palm strike. Ji Wuyou’s pupils contracted, tears still lingering in his eyes, and he fell backwards slowly. Pei Jing cast a complicated look at him, quickly reaching out to take the heavy stone from his hand and placing it on the ground.
Standing within the white light, Pei Jing slowly squatted down in front of the jar.
After pursuing it for so long.
Finally, standing here in reality.
This jar had been sealed for five hundred years, covered by a wooden plank.
“Chu Junyu, are you inside?”
Soft white light illuminated the young boy, casting a gentle glow around him. His hair cascaded down, exuding a touch of tenderness. Pei Jing reached out, slowly moving the wooden plank.
He didn’t actually know what was inside—Zhang Qingshu’s skeletal remains? Or perhaps something mysterious and unknowable?
Five hundred years ago, his drunken father had personally drowned his son in the jar. Inside lay guilt, malice, sinister intentions, and lingering resentment.
It was just a matter of finally pushing it open.
A pale and slender hand emerged from the jar.
That hand first grasped Pei Jing’s wrist.
Pei Jing raised his head in bewilderment.
Another hand followed the edge of the jar, and the person emerging from inside was both familiar and unfamiliar.
Silver hair as white as snow, icy blood-red eyes, with an aura of melancholic malevolence in his brows.
Countless blood-red shackles loomed behind him, while the pure white light in the surroundings failed to dispel the darkness that lingered within his blood.
Pei Jing’s eyes stared blankly, unable to find words to speak.
The person in black robes glanced past him, and only after his gaze fell upon the unconscious Ji Wuyou on the ground did he speak, his tone as light as the moon being sliced by falling red leaves.
“Why didn’t you just kill him directly?”
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I am confuse. Who is Shu yan? I thought Pei has not met whoever this Shu is but he’s having vision of him? Is Shu and the scholar the same person? It looks like their names are used interchangeably. How did Chu event end up in the jar? Oh my head.