130 The problem with possession

The problem with possession was that it was difficult to occupy the minds of more than one host at the same time. Difficult, but not impossible. Though it did call upon some assistance. A tiny needle was pricked into Chen Anyue's neck.

Her eyes gazed downward, glossy and gray. She was obediently standing within the communication array, siphoning her spiritual energy to keep it intact. Earlier, she had lost an argument with her father. Liu Langce, who had recovered from his ailments thanks to medicine, had taken her place to reinforce the northern gates.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, Chen Anyue hadn't conceded to her father's wishes of her own free will. If it'd been up to her, she would have stormed out regardless, pushed to the brink from a lifetime of oppression.

But she was robbed of that choice.

The poison from the needle kept her mind dull, distant and unfocused. Her peers might have simply thought that she was depressed from arguing with her father, but the truth was far more insidious.

While it would have been easier on his abilities if he had simply knocked the girl out, for now, he still had use for her.

And thus, Chen Anyue stood there quietly.

Elsewhere, past the boundaries of the city, Liu Sumeng's sword was locked with the butterfly mask man.

Each blow only grew heavier, and Liu Sumeng's strength waned. He could not adequately defend himself, suffering cuts that littered his limbs. He was able to keep them shallow, not life-threatening. But there was only so much he could manage.

Still, he was undeterred, fearless. Dark brown eyes matched gray ones in intensity. He would not falter, not quiver nor bow to this swordsman. Mingshui raised and clashed with the edge of a scimitar blade with a loud metallic clang. His muscles and wrist cried from strain.

Liu Sumeng's visage remained calm.

Though he was only slightly irritated that the man refused to relent his name or any sliver of a hint at his identity.

Their stalemate broke, the butterfly mask man's strength was overpowering. The Ivory Sword Saint tried to deflect the blow by guiding it aside, but he had moved a little too slow, his reaction impeded by fatigue.

Liu Sumeng stumbled, falling, and the scimitar was following him. He raised Mingshui's hilt as a last-ditch effort to defend himself. The handle caught the incoming blade, but his grip was loose and muscles twitching.

Mingshui was knocked out of his grip, and Liu Sumeng wasn't given the time to curse. He was going to roll out of the way to evade, already knowing that his movement would be too slow.

Instead, there was a thunderous roar. A snap and crack! Splitting the eardrums.

Liu Sumeng rolled away without issue and picked up his discarded sword.

He looked up and saw that behind the butterfly mask man stood Yuan Xuelan.

"...Thank you." Liu Sumeng could not stop the smile that stretched his lips. "I knew that you'd come."

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Yuan Xuelan's messy() hair billowed in the gusting winds.

His expression was apparent in the silver glow of the moon that peered through the gaps between dark blue clouds. His eyes did not dance with anxiety or rage. The panic he felt when coming had quelled when he saw Liu Sumeng.

In his heart realization bloomed; He was going to trust this man. If they could work together, then they would be able to overcome so much more.

With newfound confidence and relief that warmed his heart and gave him strength, Liu Sumeng took another deep breath and steadied his stance. He wasted no time, charging forth.

The scimitar-wielder who matched Liu Sumeng in speed was undaunted by this assault, about to raise his blade to parry the attack perfectly.

Yuan Xuelan might not have skills with as much finesse nor speed that could keep up with either swordsman, but that didn't mean he was helpless. Divine flame roared. With a swing of his sword, it was propelled forward in a wide arc.

The flames came at the two swordsmen about to exchange their blows.

The black-robed man abandoned his counterattack and dodged the flames. A bit slow. Divine fire licked at his sleeve and burned the arm raised to protect his face.

Liu Sumeng, who trusted Yuan Xuelan fully, did not bother to dodge the fire that came his way. Divine flames did not singe his clothes nor burn his skin and instead caressed him gently, even healing some of the shallow cuts on his limbs.

Without any rest he pursued the scimitar-wielder, not giving him any reprieve, chasing him toward Xuelan.

Now that he had Xuelan at his side, the fight where victory had previously been impossible soon became a simple and easy affair. Tides turned, the two worked like two halves of a whole, cornering the butterfly mask man until he had nowhere left to go.

"Who are you?" Liu Sumeng asked again, "What is your name?"

"..." But again the butterfly mask man was quiet.

"Answer him, you fucker!" Yuan Xuelan shouted.

Nothing again. Without wasting any more time, Yuan Xuelan raised his sacred sword. Fire and lightning buzzed and cackled when he dashed forward, but it was faint, and he kicked the masked man instead.

Their foe had no time to recover when Liu Sumeng came forward with Mingshui's silver edge slashing down.

A crack.

The butterfly masked man stepped back, the black mask that always decorated his face crumbling. But Liu Sumeng did not give himself rest nor take a moment to be shocked at the visage that he saw, stabbing the man straight through the heart before he could fully recover.

But this man…

Was not a man at all!

"What the…" Yuan Xuelan's eyes widened with surprise as the mask came apart.

A dainty peach-shaped face looked back at them both, wide eyes and a little pointed nose. Her features were that of a goddess, beauty ethereal and divine.

Yuan Xuelan was shocked and frozen. Not because the butterfly mask man had been revealed to be a woman, but he recognized her face!

It was the face of Bai Qiaoyin! The corrupted corpse they met at Zu Village! How could it be her? Perhaps an illusion, a mistake in memory or a look alike.

Liu Sumeng was also chilled to the bone, catching the whiff of fresh mints and citrus. Something did not feel right.

The woman fell to the ground, her gray eyes expressionless in death as they were in life. She had no answers to offer their questions, now dead. But perhaps she had never been alive in the first place.

Even if they couldn't gain any definite answers, at least she was dead now. Without the puppeteer, the Fallen Gods would halt their advance on the city and could be killed more efficiently, one by one.

Liu Sumeng let out a long sigh of relief, swaying on his feet as dizziness and fatigue overtook him.

"Sumeng!" Yuan Xuelan called out as he rushed forward to catch the Ivory Sword Saint before a fall.

A steady hand helped him stand up straight, and Liu Sumeng took in a deep breath, failing to restrain the desire to lean into Yuan Xuelan's shoulder and neck.

Yuan Xuelan tensed a little. A pleasant feeling fluttered in his chest mixing with concern, "Are you okay? Hurt anywhere?"

"Nothing serious," Liu Sumeng sighed, taking an extra moment of rest leaning against the young man behind him. Yuan Xuelan had grown to be so reliable, he thought warmly.

In the distance was still the sound of battle and he wondered if they were finishing off the Fallen God troops.

"Here, let me help you." Yuan Xuelan took Liu Sumeng's hand into his. Fire erupted around his hand. There was an unbearable warmth and flooded into Liu Sumeng's wounds, making his body feel soft. It threatened to lull him to sleep. The wounds began to close and heal.

A chuckle left his lips and finally pushed himself away from this cute Yuan Xuelan. "Thank you. But I'm quite alright. Let's not waste your strengths yet. We will return first."

Yuan Xuelan blinked and licked his lips. There was a bit of disappointment among the excitement that swirled in his heart. He wanted to hold Sumeng a little longer if he were honest. Still, he understood the situation.

"Okay." He nodded obediently.

Satisfied, Liu Sumeng tapped into the communication spell to alert the others of the developments.

Only…there was silence.

His brows knit.

Again, he tried.

Nothing.

And the spell wholly shattered.

"What's wrong?" Yuan Xuelan perked at the concern that appeared suddenly in the Ivory Sword Saint's face.

"The communication spell is gone."

"What?" Alarmed, he tried tapping into it as well and found that the string that once connected them all was indeed nonexistent.

Did something go wrong? A mistake perhaps? But it was better to be safe than sorry. "We should hurry." Liu Sumeng said.

"Yeah."

The two rushed back in the direction of the city. But they weren't able to make it all the way back to the manor.

…

Inside the Ascending Dawn Manor, everything had been going smoothly until Chen Anyue reached up and plucked the needle out her neck. She fell like a puppet with strings cut, eyes rolling back into her head.

"Young Miss!" A few servants rushed to her side to check her vitals and sighed with relief when she saw she was alright. "Poor thing collapsed from exhaustion. We should take her to her room."

But another female cultivator shrilled in shock. Those that stood in the array that formed the spell were all blinking from confusion.

"What happened?"

"Why did it suddenly break?"

Smoke began to rise from the middle of the array, filling up the room and their lungs. The cultivators and servants coughed as they struggled to figure out what was going on and dismantle the array for good.

"Someone do something!"

"Can't you see I'm trying?"

One of the Elders performed a set of hand seals, dispersing both the smoke and the array. But by then it was already too late, most of the others who were there in the room had all fallen to their ground, groaning just on the brink of consciousness.

Cursing, she tried to get her bearings and pick herself up, but didn't expect a sharp blow to her nape, which robbed her consciousness for good. She fell with a thud.