Where Immortals Once Walked

The horse gave a mournful scream, stumbling mid-gallop. Its body pitched sideways, then tumbled clean off the cliff.

His prized bo beast, which was worth a fortune and could travel five hundred kilometers in a day, was gone, just like that.

A grim clarity struck He Lingchuan.

That thing had been aiming for his lower back. No matter how a rider twisted or ducked, the waist and rear always remained steady in the saddle. If not for his sudden, inexplicable instinct to leap, it would have been his body bursting into a cloud of blood.

But now, his end would likely be no better. With the height from which he fell, he would likely end up as a smear of flesh on the rocks below.

Above, he faintly heard Mao Tao and the others crying out. Wind roared past his ears, the fall speeding ever faster.

The cliff face was bare. There were neither trees nor roots to seize to help slow his fall.

A jag of rock jutted outward below. Gritting his teeth, He Lingchuan drew his changdao, picked a crack, and jammed the blade in with all his strength.

In the movies, this trick always worked.

Clang!

The saber snapped cleanly at the hilt, clean as if cut by shears.

Huh?! Were those all fucking fake?!

Luckily, he still had another blade. In other words, he still had one more chance.

He tore free the broken saber and thrust it at another seam.

This time, it stuck.

It worked!

The rock wall split with a long scar, like bread riven under a knife.

There were no sparks that flew out as a result of him driving his blade into the wall. Instead, there was only the solid feel of his blade biting deep into the wall.

The blade slowed his fall. He scraped down about seven meters, then finally jerked to a stop.

Below lay jagged rocks jutting from the lake’s surface. If he had fallen unchecked, he would have been dashed to pieces. He would then be little different from his horse, whose carcass now sprawled broken on the stones.

He was not quite at the lake’s surface, but he was close. And ahead, set into the cliff face, yawned an irregular opening. It did not appear to be that big, but cold air whistled from within.

What now? He was not sure whether or not he could climb back up, and Lu Yao would surely send men in pursuit of the rearguard, as well as the column further. Scrambling upward now would be suicide.

As he hesitated, the chill returned.

This time from directly above.

The same thing that had smashed his shield and slain his mount was hunting him still.

He Lingchuan spat a curse, then flung himself into the narrow opening.

The passage was tighter than it looked. His head cracked against the stone, leaving him bleeding and with a lump swelling, but at least he was inside.

He yanked his legs in just as the white blur streaked past outside, close enough to scorch the soles of his feet.

What the hell is that thing?

From above came faint shouts. Mao Tao and the others were calling his name. However, He Lingchuan dared not look back, nor did he dare linger. The passage stretched inward, narrow but deep. He dropped low and began crawling.

Moments later, a crash echoed behind. The cliff had collapsed.

The weathered rock, already brittle, had given way under the impact of his falling horse. A swath of the mountainside broke loose.

And two massive chunks landed squarely across the opening, sealing the way he had entered.

The passage twisted and turned. With the opening now sealed, everything was pitch-black. He found not one but two branching paths. He wasted no time wavering, simply choosing the one from which the wind blew.

His head was still clear. As long as he followed the direction from which the wind came, there should be a way out.

And so, he crawled on.

After a while, the divine bone amulet at his chest grew hot.

Is there something ahead?

Once again, with it being pitch-black, he could see absolutely nothing. But He Lingchuan’s instincts prickled, and he slowed his pace.

After crawling for a while, the tunnel suddenly opened wide. He Lingchuan’s left hand pressed down, but he found nothing.

Good thing he was alert, or he would have pitched straight over.

It seemed that there was a drop right there.

The space was large, and somewhere within it, the sound of water echoed.

The wind was rushing up from beneath.

This meant that this section of the mountain connected through some cavern or fissure to the lake outside.

He Lingchuan let out a breath. Perhaps this was his path to escape.

Now what? Jump?

Judging by the sound, the water was not far. It was maybe six to ten meters below him.

He leaned forward, ready to jump down, when a strange noise drifted up from the darkness beneath.

* * *

He Lingchuan’s fall had been so sudden that the other soldiers had not even reacted.

By the time Mao Tao and the others turned, the young master and his horse were already plunging off the cliff.

The steed’s dying scream was piercing, yet curiously few had heard He Lingchuan’s own shout.

Zhao Qinghe nearly lost his soul in fright. He spurred forward, skidding to the edge to look down.

Only emptiness below, a single outcropping of rock blocking his view of the depths.

That... doesn’t look promising.

He searched desperately, soon spotting the horse’s carcass broken on the jagged rocks, its blood spreading into the lake.

Mao Tao galloped up as well. He craned his neck over the edge. “Ah! The Young Master!”

Zhao Qinghe asked frantically, “Where?”

“I... I don’t see him.” Mao Tao stretched his neck further. “Could he be pinned beneath the horse?”

“...” Zhao Qinghe yanked out a coil of rope. “I’ll go down.”

“I’ll do it! I’m lighter and quicker.” Mao Tao snatched the rope, looped it around his waist, tied the other end to a saddle, and slid down the cliff face. His movements were deft and looked practiced.

The brigands had spotted their activity, and they sent arrows hissing after them. Zhao Qinghe shouted, “Guard the horses!”

A short while later, he called out, “Well? Have you found him?”

At first, Mao Tao’s replies were clear—“No!”—but as he descended farther, his voice blurred into the distance. In the end, he tugged the rope as a signal.

The soldiers hauled him back up with all their strength.

No sooner had Mao Tao rolled onto solid ground than he reported, “There are blade marks on the cliff wall, but I didn’t see the young master!”

Hearts sank heavy.

Then, with a crash, the last barricade was smashed apart. Brigands poured through.

The first two were too reckless. They slipped and fell hard.

The rest tested the ice underfoot and found it to be solid and slick.

But now they were within twenty meters of the soldiers. At that distance, not only arrows, but an axe thrown by someone with a strong arm could reach.

How could they attempt a rescue under such conditions?

One soldier blurted anxiously, “We’ll have to leave... We can only come back when it’s safe to—”

But he could not finish the words. Come back to recover a corpse?

Zhao Qinghe looked once at the bloodied cliff base, then at the howling brigands closing in. He knew there was no choice.

“Mount up!”

At last, retreat! The state troops spurred their horses, galloping with all their strength, as though wishing their mounts had grown extra legs.

Watching them vanish in a cloud of dust, Lu Yao turned back to the icy slope barely twenty meters away and sneered. “Petty tricks. Did they think this could stop us?”

He raised his great axe and slammed it down.

Crack! A hole split open in the ice.

Two more strikes and he would have a foothold.

The other brigands followed his lead, hacking at the slope. In moments, the air rang with the clamor of axes on ice.

Some among them knew spells, but when they hurled fireballs, the flames fizzled at once, leaving nothing but shallow dents.

The ice formed by borrowed origin energy was solid and enduring. Ordinary magical techniques could hardly scratch it.

Even on the incline, even with their progress slowed, with footholds carved one by one, the brigands clambered steadily upward.