Chapter 127: Return to the Capital

Beneath the imposing mountain pass, on a battlefield soaked so thoroughly in blood that the earth had turned pitch black, thousands were locked in a desperate slaughter.

Nearly every few days, groups of Underworld Cultivators would arrive to sabotage the reinforcements of the pass. These cultivators relied on killing Yin-Yang Masters to bolster their strength and to claim lucrative bounties. Conversely, the Yin-Yang Masters gained power and earned contribution points by slaying the invaders.

"If we keep trading lives like this, we truly cannot hold out," Nangong Haoran remarked, standing atop the fortress wall. His hair, starkly divided between black and white, danced in the wind. He sighed, his eyes clouded with worry.

"Hold out or not, we must fight," Qian Shu said, his frame shaking with every movement. "Recent explorations into the Underworld have yielded significant discoveries. Moreover, those second and third-tier Yin-Yang Masters who survive a tour on this battlefield undergo astonishing growth. As long as they survive a few rounds and absorb enough energy from the Underworld Cultivators, they reach the intermediate stage rapidly. In the outside world, that would take at least five or six years."

Nangong Haoran nodded in agreement.

"I hear the rift in Nansu is showing signs of instability," Qian Shu added suddenly. "Rumor has it that space there is tearing, likely to create a direct portal to the Underworld."

Nangong Haoran’s expression grew stern. "If another opening appears, the pressure will be unbearable. Nansu is not like Xiliang; it is densely populated and a major economic hub. If anything goes wrong there, it will be a catastrophe."

"Wait, that person looks familiar," Qian Shu remarked.

In the midst of the battlefield, a lone Yin-Yang Master was walking unhurriedly toward the wall. An Underworld Cultivator lunged at his neck from behind, but the man merely flicked his hand, unleashing a Spirit-Breaking Seal. The attacker’s head collapsed instantly, and he hit the ground like a broken sack. As the man continued his steady pace, killing everyone in his path, the other Underworld Cultivators eventually grew too terrified to approach him.

"The Blood-Shattering Blade—it's Qin Feng!" Nangong Haoran gasped. Qin Feng had been sent out as a hidden pawn, and now he had returned alone. The sheer aura of carnage surrounding him was enough to startle even Nangong.

Qian Shu’s flesh trembled as his expression tightened.

I walked alone to the foot of the wall and climbed the hidden staircase. Nangong Haoran and Qian Shu stared at me, rendered speechless. I knew I looked wretched. Having endured the eighteen tortures of the Underworld, my wounds had healed, but they left marks that refused to fade. Across my forehead, nose, and even the corners of my mouth, tender, reddish scars remained. They might not vanish for years—perhaps only by reaching the Grandmaster realm and undergoing a total metamorphosis would I be restored.

"What? Can't you recognize me just because of a few scars?" I asked with a smile.

But my smile only sent a chill down their spines. It wasn't horrific; in fact, framed by the scars, it carried a hint of sinister allure. Yet, there was an underlying scent of blood, as if a devil had crawled out of hell to grin at them.

"Brother Qin..." Nangong Haoran said, his voice raspy. He understood that only one who had endured hellish agony could possess such an aura. They had all seen their share of slaughter, but none carried the weight that Qin Feng did.

"Do you have any alcohol?" I interrupted.

"Yes, we just got a few crates of special reserves. Let’s get blind drunk today, Brother Qin," Qian Shu replied.

The three of us sat at a table, drinking until the world went dark.

The five crates of alcohol—thirty bottles in total—were emptied completely. I fell into a deep sleep for two days and two nights. Since entering the Underworld, I hadn't had a single peaceful night. Even in my long slumber, I found no true rest. In my dreams, scenes flashed like flickering shadows: I saw Gao Pingping die a miserable death, saw Yu Hai perish, and even saw Nightingale and Ghost swallowed by a tide of enemies. Because they had failed to reach the rendezvous, their survival was unlikely. I roared in vain, trying to save them, but I could never reach them.

Suddenly, my hand grasped something smooth and warm. The gray, fragmented landscape dissolved. I clung to that warmth as everything else drifted away.

Chen Ying’en’s face flushed red; she tried to pull her hand away, but I gripped it tightly. Inside the room, Huo Sirui had been tidying up, but she eventually left and closed the door. Chen Ying’en let out a long breath. She knew something had happened between Huo Sirui and me, and being held by me left her feeling strangely conflicted. Her eyes settled on my face, and her heart ached—what kind of tragedy had left such scars? She reached out a trembling hand, gently stroking each mark. They were brands of suffering.

She stared at my face for a long time, remembering when we first met. I had been an ordinary doctor with a sharp tongue that nearly drove her to fury. She had watched me join the Ninth Bureau and grow with terrifying speed; in just two years, I had already surpassed her. Overwhelmed with emotion, she leaned down and pressed her lips against mine. Then, she pulled back, her heart racing.

"I must be insane!" she whispered, prying my hand loose and fleeing with a burning face.

I opened my eyes and touched my lips. I pulled myself up into a half-seated position and lit a cigarette. My heart ached, but my lips tasted sweet. As I finished the cigarette, I buried my frustration and defeat. The pain I had endured would become my treasure. And as for Ghost and Nightingale, I had to think positively: until I saw their bodies, I would believe they were alive.

I got up to shower. As I was washing, the bathroom door opened, and a soft body embraced me from behind.

Huo Sirui’s face pressed against my back, and I heard her soft sobbing. "Does it hurt?" she asked. She had thought the scars on my face were enough, but she hadn't realized the extent of those on my body.

"It hurts," I replied. The physical pain had faded, but the memory of that agony was so visceral I dared not dwell on it. Huo Sirui kissed each scar, and I could feel her heartache. I turned around, cupped her face, and kissed her deeply. Women are the best medicine for a man—not bitter, but very sweet.

After our intimacy, I felt truly relaxed, both in body and soul.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Huo Sirui asked in my arms.

"Yes, back to the capital," I said. There were things I had to clarify; the deaths of Gao Pingping and Yu Hai could not remain a mystery.

...

The plane landed at the capital’s airport. I stepped back onto the city's soil. Wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap, I didn't bother hiding the scars on my face. They looked striking, perhaps even possessing a unique charm to some. Two attractive women approached me on the way out to ask for my number, but I was in no mood and turned them down flat.

Just outside the airport, a composed, middle-aged man greeted me. "Young Master Qin, I am your butler, Zou Xingbang. I am responsible for your living arrangements and daily life in the capital," he said respectfully.

I raised an eyebrow. "Who sent you?"

"It was arranged by the eldest daughter, Ling Xinyue," he replied.

At the mention of Ling Xinyue, my temples throbbed. I had almost forgotten—I had a fiancée after all.

"Please, Young Master," Zou Xingbang said, opening the door to a luxury van. I climbed in without hesitation.

"The eldest daughter has prepared an old courtyard house in the capital for you; I believe you will like it," he said.

"If I bring other women to stay there, I assume the eldest daughter won't mind?" I asked coolly.

Zou Xingbang froze, at a loss for words.