As dawn broke and the first rays of sunlight crept into the cave passages, Zhi Cheng opened his eyes. The women were busy at work again. They were chatting and discussing animatedly. They laughed and enjoyed the gossip they could pass on.
Zhi Cheng stood up and pulled his robe tighter around him again. Qing Lai was already collecting the clay pots again and greeted him happily when Zhi Cheng approached him. Wordlessly, Zhi Cheng took the second basket and followed him down to the lake.
"You didn't let me look at your wounds yesterday, Brother Zhi," Qing Lai said and put the basket down.
"They also need to be cleaned before they become infected," he explained. Zhi Cheng tensed up inside.
"No need!" he defended himself. But Qing Lai was already a few steps away and had grabbed him by the collar.
"I've already noticed that you find it difficult to accept help, but you shouldn't be so arrogant at the expense of your health," he said, resolutely exposing Zhi Cheng's chest. Qing Lai paused in his movement and frowned.
Under his scrutinizing gaze, he couldn't see the wound on his arm or the deep cut on Zhi Cheng's hip. In a flash, he turned the bewildered Ghost King around and examined his back.
Flawless white skin stretched over firm muscles. When Qing Lai stretched out his hand and stroked the definitely non-existent wounds, Zhi Cheng pushed him away.
"I told you, no need," he hissed.
"But how...?" asked Qing Lai quietly. Zhi Cheng pulled the robe back into place and tried to calm his racing heartbeat. If Qing Lai had touched him any longer, he would have broken his hands... maybe.
"With the regulation of internal qi, such wounds are harmless," he replied. It only became critical when the spiritual core was damaged. But with a dead person like him, the situation was different.
Although he had a core and spiritual power, he had cultivated it through black magic, which was much more powerful, but also much more dangerous to master.
"You're a cultist?" the realization came dubiously from Qing lai's lips. A cultist did not normally slaughter his opponents as rudely as Zhi Cheng had done.
Zhi Cheng saw the doubt on Qing Lai's face, trying to make sense of him with the scant information he had. The situation was tense.
Zhi Cheng couldn't help but notice that when they were in private, Qing Lai shed his naivety and displayed an astuteness and insidiousness in his questions and actions that put the saintly pacifist far in the shade. Qing Lai was definitely not who he pretended to be either, and Zhi Cheng felt the situation was getting more and more dicey.
"Brother Qing, we are just two strangers who met under extraordinary circumstances. If you allow me, as soon as we reach Chaisang, we'll go our separate ways again," Zhi Cheng said quietly.
Qing Lai had regained his composure. He looked up, straight into Zhi Cheng's eyes, and again, the sincere, mild smile hit the Spirit King straight in the heart.
"You intend to say goodbye?" he said softly.
"You don't?" asked Zhi Cheng back in surprise, feeling his heart beating strongly in his chest. It felt as if it was about to leap out. A warm feeling settled over his senses and he almost smiled back. But he regained his composure at the last moment and hid the lower half of his face behind his fan. Qing Lai sighed.
"I felt like I had met a friend and wished I could have spent a little more time with you, Brother Zhi," he said.
"Well, you still owe me new clothes and a meal, so we certainly won't part ways until then," Zhi Cheng objected.
Qing Lai beamed. Zhi Cheng burst into tears inside. Why? Why? Why was he constantly behaving like an idiot who couldn't refuse Qing Lai anything?
He was Zhi Cheng, Chengzhu he was the dreaded Ghost King, he was the greatest evil of all time. The nightmare of immortals and yet and yet... was there anything Qing Lai could ask him for that he would not fulfill?
Defeated, he picked up the basket full of jugs and pots filled with water as a shrill cry rang out. Qing Lai was quick, no sooner had Zhi Cheng registered the shout than Qing Lai had dropped his basket and sprinted off.
Normally it took them just under half an hour to descend, but now they reached the cave where they had taken shelter after about ten minutes.
When Zhi Cheng entered the cave, a strong smell of blood and musk hit his nose. His lips curled in disdain. The barbarians had found them.
Within seconds, he grasped the situation. About fifteen filthy, tall men had stormed the cave. They had herded the women into groups in different corners.
Most of the women had been stabbed or had had their throats slit. Another shrill scream, followed by a pitiful plea, sounded from a corner.
One of the men had grabbed Yi Fang fen, torn off her clothes and was having his way with her, paying no heed to his gawking men.
Others had grabbed the few survivors. One of the women, the plump one with the pink face, desperately shoved a shard of clay into her throat so that she wouldn't have to endure the painful humiliation.
Zhi Cheng's gaze fell on Qing Lai. Something inside him cracked when he saw the expression on the man's face.
Horror, shock, remorse. An arrow whirred through the cave, and in a flash Zhi Cheng stood in front of Qing Lai and fended off the projectile with his fan.
Qing Lai woke up from his lethargy. He hurled the nearest man against the rock face, breaking his spine and several ribs. He spat up blood and was dead before he hit the ground.
Without looking back, he was on to the next man in just a few steps. Zhi Cheng sensed an unbridled murderous lust, an aura of ice-cold ruthlessness. Qing Lai was about to forget himself.
A man who suppressed his fighting instincts with all his might and wanted to be a good person was at his most dangerous when he forgot himself.
Zhi Cheng let his black magic flow through his body, it flowed through his veins instead of blood, pooled in his fingertips and shot out in the form of invisible spirit threads. At the same moment, ten of the barbarians lost their heads.
Before they could even realize what was happening, Zhi Cheng was standing in front of the marauder closest to him.
All it took was a fleeting touch, a word or eye contact and he collapsed, blood foam billowing from his mouth as he breathed his last, writhing in pain.
Two more men approached from behind. Zhi Cheng slit their throats with a flick of his wrist and, turning back, slit their upper bodies. When he turned around again, he saw Qing Lai kneeling in front of Fang fen. But the young woman was wild and upset.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she shrieked again and again.
She screamed and scratched his face and arms. No matter how gently he talked to her. Qing Lai looked up, looking for help.
The ground was littered with blood and corpses. No one was left alive. Just as Qing Lai reached out for help, Fang fen grabbed one of the crude weapons on the ground and plunged it into his stomach without hesitation.
Qing Lai cried out. But he could no longer stop her. With the last of her strength, she tore the weapon right through the abdominal wall. Feng fan spat out blood as her intestines gushed out and her blood soaked Qing Lai's robe.
"No, no, no, no, no, no," it was as if he couldn't get anything else past his lips. He ran his hand over the spring-green, torn robe and tremblingly covered her slumped corpse with it.
Zhi Cheng turned away. He did not know such emotions and could not help. He stepped out of the cave. The sun's rays burned his eyes and he had to blink a few times.