Chapter 111: Chapter 111: Lousy Fortune
As they began to cross through the portal, the ruin behind them shuddered into oblivion. Stones crumbled, cathedrals of martial antiquity collapsed in on themselves, and the hollowed sanctum roared its final lament. Leng Yue and Li Wei left with no regrets.
With hearts firm, they trudged their legs forward, stepping into the trembling light of the world beyond the portal mouth, where the other subspace had begun to heal as well — though slowly, painfully. The blood red pools filled with bile and plague had faded back to clear water.
The trees had straightened themselves up, as though free from endless torment. The sky, once a crimson wound in midair, softened to bruised violet. But the wounds from the struggle remained in their minds, and their souls.
Li Wei steadied himself on a ruined column, breathing shallow. His robes were torn, smeared with ichor and ash. He wiped his brow and spoke calmly. "We cannot tarry," he said. "The path ahead is not certain, but the purpose of our travels is clear."
She nodded wearily, casting a final glance at the collapsing sanctum. "I would not wish to stay. We owe no more to this dead civilization." Her voice, though soft, carried the fatigue of someone who had seen too much.
After parting with the mask, they set forth. The rural roads were silent, save for the distant rustling of the forest behind them. Vines wilted, shrank. The scarred landscape and barren fields receded. The land, as though cleansed, held its breath during their passage.
Yet in these quiet moments, their bodies reminded them of the physical toll. Li Wei’s steps faltered occasionally, nearly falling into a nearby bush. A potion of Leng Yue’s arm trembled from strain.
Each breath was shallow and ragged. Each moment, the memory of rotting flesh and shattered guardians lingered behind their eyes. But there was no use resting and lamenting in the wilderness. They walked toward the eastern ridge, where rumors spoke of a quiet refuge—or at least anonymity.
Unfortunately for the pair, they were not in the desolate mountain ranges anymore. This was the main reason they did not simply fly using an artifact or mount, it was simply too easy noticing the rarity of their possessions.
They traveled under concealment, keeping away from the scanning eyes of the overlord’s provincial scouts. The overlord’s banners flew over forts and outposts; his governor’s agents swept through villages. It was ridiculous the amount of influence a protector like Ba Zi had, considering this was not even his area of administration yet his people were everywhere.
News of two blades fleeing with relics of unstable qi had spread like wildfire. Their faces, once unknown beyond a few circles of cities, now flickered throughout wanted posters, rough sketches, and whispered tales.
By day they crossed hills and rivers, under the cover of storms or dusk. By night they slept in hollow tree hollows or behind crumbled walls, ever watchful. The wind seemed to carry rumors "Two foreigners with insatiable lust for blood and violence," "They seek to unravel the seams of the realm and bring forth pandemonium," "They are carriers of plague." Each whisper stung more than a blade.
Considering the noble actions within the subspace had vanished along with the subspace, it was these very rumors that gave people a general idea of the type of characters they were.
Their destination was a modest border village: Qingshui — a place of crossroad caravans, merchant stalls, and weary travelers. It lay near the frontier of the overlord’s province, vulnerable, humble, and thus often overlooked.
But current rumors told of trouble there: famine, bandit raids, and now, strange disappearances among the fields. A crisis was brewing, waiting for a spark.
When they reached Qingshui at dusk, smoke curled from chimneys, children’s shadows danced at windows, and lanterns glowed faintly in alleys.
The village walls stood low but stout; the gates were wooden, the watchtowers sparse. Merchants haggled using shady tactics; guards leaned on spears in faded livery.
Leng Yue paused at the outer wall. "What in the world?" she asked, voice low. "The unnatural energy here is subtle, yet is undoubtedly present..."
Li Wei inspected the scene before him, scanning the dim glow of lantern-lit lanes. "Trouble has already taken root." He stepped forward and slipped through an open gate. She followed, as her senses were on high alert.
They moved through the village silently. The air was stale with anxiety. Market stalls lay half-empty, and carts stood idle. Fields beyond bore wilted crops; irrigation channels clogged. Villagers wore hollow eyes.
At a small square, a cluster of merchants gathered around a well. One elderly man’s voice crackled: "Seven have vanished at night this week—no trace left. The watchmen have seen nothing leaving the town, thus the culprits are still in the area
Children huddled in doorways. Mothers drew shuttered windows. The unease was very real, Leng Yue and Li Wei pressed onward, glancing across tiled roofs and narrow alleys. At a corner, they passed a peculiar merchant stall.
Jars of seeds, sacks of grain, clay pots cracked and dried. A boy reached out to touch one, hesitated, and drew his hand away. Li Wei caught his eye and offered a soft nod. The boy’s eyes widened; he bowed quickly, then scurried away.
"That boy knows something about this village..." He looked in the direction where the boy had fled, but did not pursue him. Instead, he turned towards his comrade and smiled. " Perhaps we shall see him again."
They arrived at the village inn, a modest building of wood and stone. Lantern light glowed within. They entered quietly. The innkeeper, a lean middle-aged woman, looked up, startled by their garb and worn faces.
"Strangers," she said. "You are not from these lands. You’d best enter, but keep your heads low." Her voice rustled like old silk. Leng Yue inclined her head in thanks, "Apologies for the disturbance..." Li Wei offered a silver coin. They moved to a secluded corner, listening.
A traveler at the next table spoke in hushed tones: "Last night—two more bodies were found near the eastern fields. No wounds, no marks. The guard says he saw an apparition... but everyone thinks he is crazy." He shivered.
Leng Yue’s jaw tightened. "The situation is growing unstable, ."
Li Wei’s eyes flicked to the window. Shadows shifted beyond. "We must be cautious. The overlord’s agents may have reached here already."
Outside, the wind moaned through narrow streets. Lamps flickered. The village, once humble and safe, now lay on edge.
In the hollow of that building, with walls creaking and voices fading, two fugitives — a cultivator master and his indispensable companion — prepared to root out the evil that had taken hold in Qingshui. The storm of their fate had followed them here.