Chapter Twenty: The Unique Pleasure of Drinking After Killing (Part One)

Crimson blood dripped along the blade of the slender sword, transforming what had once been an ordinary weapon into something extraordinary. Gripping the longsword, Liu Yueming, in a single instant, swept its tip across the throats of four elite knights of the Beast Sect.

The fifth knight had no chance to cry out; the sword tip was already pressing into him. He watched in horror as it drew nearer, felt a sudden chill at his throat, and could utter no more words. Only a guttural rasp escaped him before he collapsed into a pool of blood, his eyes wide with astonishment—how could there be a sword so swift in all the world?

With a deft motion, Liu Yueming reversed his grip and flung the sword, sending a streak of bloody light through the air that pinned the last knight in the room to the wall.

The blood-soaked floor was slick and muddy. Liu Yueming walked slowly to stand before the knight pinned to the wall, who still clung to life. Staring at him, Liu Yueming asked, “Why didn’t you shout?”

Only then did the dying knight recover from his shock and open his mouth to call for help, but with a sharp crack, Liu Yueming crushed his throat. He pulled the sword free from the knight’s body, turned, and strode out the door, tossing over his shoulder, “When you had the chance, you didn’t shout. Now there’s no chance left.” He then moved on to the next room.

That night, Liu Yueming infiltrated the quarters of the Beast Sect emissaries alone, slaying fifteen elite knights. After the fifteenth knight managed to cry out, Liu Yueming vanished like a ghost, leaving the Spirit Realm behind.

By the time Zuo Hou arrived, the fifteen corpses had been neatly arranged in a room. He stood in silence, gazing at the fallen knights.

The wounds at their throats filled him with dread. Could this truly be the work of a sixteen-year-old youth? Not only had this boy slain fifteen elite knights, he had escaped without a single scratch.

In that moment, Zuo Hou even wondered if these so-called elites were little more than trash. Yet no one knew better than he how formidable they were. There was only one explanation: the boy’s strength was beyond belief.

“It was Liu Wujian’s son,” one knight whispered.

The name Liu Wujian carried a strange power. The moment Zuo Hou heard it, his shock faded; the boy was Liu Wujian’s son. That alone made the slaughter of fifteen elite knights in an instant less incredulous.

Just then, Hua Queyue and Jin Buhuan arrived. That such an incident had occurred in the Spirit Realm was almost unthinkable. Hua Queyue’s brows were tightly knit, uncertainty clouding his mind. If the Beast Sect decided to use this as a pretext, it would spell real trouble.

Jin Buhuan examined the wounds on the knights’ necks with a keen eye. Rising to his feet, he declared in a low voice, “It was Liu Yueming.”

Hua Queyue’s heart jolted. How could this be?

“This is a matter between the Beast Sect and the Sword Sect,” Zuo Hou said coldly. “I will not lay this at the door of the Spirit Realm.”

Hua Queyue let out a long sigh of relief, yet his heart grew only heavier. Was even his own son now walking the lonely path of defiance against the world?

Jin Buhuan snorted coldly. “So it is. But Liu Yueming is too reckless, daring to kill within the Spirit Realm. I will never let this go.”

Zuo Hou’s expression was icy. “This is between the Beast Sect and the Sword Sect. If Liu Yueming is to die, it will be by our hands alone.”

“Are you capable?” Jin Buhuan asked, glancing at the fifteen corpses.

Zuo Hou did not reply. He strode over to a body and kicked it viciously. “You boast and brag in life, but when the blade comes, you can’t even utter a sound! Damn you all!” He stomped on the corpses in a frenzy, crushing several skulls so that white brain matter and red blood mingled and streamed across the floor.

Hua Queyue frowned and stepped forward to intervene. “Commander Zuo, the dead deserve respect.” At the same time, a streak of green light shot into Zuo Hou’s body.

Gradually, Zuo Hou regained his composure. “This blood debt must be repaid.”

“A small vengeance has been served,” Liu Yueming murmured, perched atop a tall, round stone outside the Spirit Realm. He pulled a wine flask from his waist, uncorked it, and took a long, deep drink.

On the night of the Sword Sect massacre, as Liu Yueming fled toward the Misty Mountain, he had seen Beast Sect disciples patrolling on ferocious beasts. Clearly, the Beast Sect had played a disgraceful role that night. On the road to the Spirit Realm, the arrogance and brazenness of these knights had also left him ill at ease.

With Zuo Hou and Morrison now allied, danger loomed for Zhou Yu. Yet Liu Yueming had no choice but to leave. So before departing, he chose to weaken their strength for Zhou Yu’s sake.

After fifteen hearty swigs, Liu Yueming set down the wine flask. “Zhou Yu, I’ve done all I can for you. From here, it’s up to you.”

He let the sixteenth mouthful of liquor burn in his mouth before swallowing. Gazing into the distant night, he said softly to himself, “No matter how dark the road ahead, I will keep walking. Liu Wujian, wait for me—I will kill you.”

After the killings, he drank deeply, each mouthful recalling the sensation of slicing through a knight’s throat—the spray of blood, the look of terror and disbelief in their eyes. The memory exhilarated him.

Watching those knights die felt like a rebirth. As he dwelled on it, a faint, hard-to-detect smile flickered at the corner of his lips. In the darkness, it seemed as if a shadow even deeper than the night itself enveloped him.

The demonic nature of the sword had heightened his power, but it had also left an almost imperceptible mark on Liu Yueming’s soul. The thrill of the kill made him know he was truly alive.

“To drink and kill—what a pleasure,” Liu Yueming finished the last drop of wine and disappeared from the stone.

Within Zhou Yu’s room in the Spirit Realm, the screams and the intelligence from Du Niang left Zhou Yu’s emotions in turmoil as he watched the images she transmitted.

“What was that sound?” the old man awoke with a start.

“Liu Yueming killed fifteen Beast Sect knights,” Zhou Yu answered, deciding at last to keep nothing from him.

“How do you know?” the old man asked.

Zhou Yu was about to answer when the old man cut him off. “Don’t say it. You must always keep a trump card. Never let anyone know your secrets until the final moment.” With that, he left the room.

Zhou Yu thought for a moment and whispered, “Thank you.” After a pause, he added softly, “Thank you too, Yueming.”

He understood well—Liu Yueming had struck at the Beast Sect knights on the eve of his departure for Zhou Yu’s sake. The Beast Sect and Morrison had joined forces, which boded ill for Zhou Yu. Liu Yueming had chosen the most direct way to help: by weakening their strength. And the most direct way to weaken the enemy was to kill them. That was his thought, and that was his action.

“Yueming, did you get away safely?” Zhou Yu prayed in his heart.

Beyond the Spirit Realm, in a forest, Liu Yueming, who had been rapidly fleeing, suddenly paused, coming to a halt.

Moonlight bathed his cold, handsome face in a gentle, hazy glow, the silver radiance softening the chill of his murderous intent.

“What do you want?” Liu Yueming’s voice was devoid of emotion, cold as ice.

From the wind, a stunningly bewitching face materialized. “Hehehe... I just like you, little brother.”

With a swift motion, Liu Yueming swept his sword backward, slicing apart the face conjured by the wind. “Begone, witch!”

A second breeze lingered at his side, again forming a breathtaking visage. “Such a ruthless little lover. Sister truly adores you...”