Eine eisige Aura

Kapitel 70

"Have you ever heard of the martial art called 'Marrow Cleansing Classic'?" He Shaoxin took another sip from the spout of the teapot, a smug smile on his face.

“I’ve heard of it.” Pang Wan nodded—she had not only heard of it, but also practiced it, although she had only reached the fifth level.

“There is an old saying that if someone can cultivate the Marrow Cleansing Classic to the legendary ninth level, they can reverse the meridians in their entire body. Not only will the martial artist's power increase greatly, but they can also hide their vital points at will. This young man's blood vessels are almost bursting. It looks like he forcibly broke through to the ninth level of the Marrow Cleansing Classic in a short period of time, but…” He lowered his eyes, somewhat regretfully, “but unfortunately, he suffered a qi deviation.”

Pang Wan cried out "Ah!" and her face turned as pale as a sheet of paper.

"The consequences of going into a demonic possession are strange. It can lead to madness or unstoppable power. I think this young man is more like the latter," He Shaoxin continued with a smile, seemingly indifferent. "However, this unstoppable power comes at a price. In my opinion, this young man can only unleash his power during specific yin times. At other times, he has to endure the agony of his internal organs being burned. Once the demonic possession erupts, only blood can suppress the evil energy within him. Therefore, your senior brother will eventually become a mindless monster that devours people's flesh and blood—tsk tsk, how terrifying."

Pang Wan's face immediately showed disbelief and shock.

"He became like this to avenge Mei Wu, didn't he?" He Shaoxin shrugged, expressing regret. "Perhaps he has a very powerful enemy in his subconscious, but that enemy is not me."

Pang Wan was in a state of utter confusion, with countless scenes flashing through her mind, yet she couldn't make sense of them all.

—When she was a child, the Southern Barbarians held a knife to her neck and shouted that they would not allow the leader to pass on the Marrow Cleansing Classic to her.

—At Yanxia Manor, Bai Xiaosheng was injured, and everyone spitted and cursed the Blood Tyrant, the new weapon of the Moon Worship Cult that cuts flesh and blood from people.

—And then there was Nan Yi's frustrated expression as she asked him who Xue Ba was.

"May I ask, Palace Master, is there any hope for my senior brother?"

Her eyes were filled with tears, but she tried her best to hold them back.

He Shaoxin was taken aback, then burst into laughter, his eyes full of mockery and mischief: "You have a really thick skin, girl! This guy is ruthless and tried to kill me. He killed my palace master and injured my general, and even threatened to break my precious nephew's neck. Tell me, why should I care whether he can be saved or not? It's utterly absurd!"

Pang Wan blinked her almond-shaped eyes, her face deathly pale.

The Palace Master is right. He really has no obligation to care about the life or death of the Southern Barbarians. It's already a miracle that he didn't take advantage of the Southern Barbarians' unconsciousness to cut off their heads.

"Then may I ask the Palace Master when my senior brother will wake up?" She lowered her tone again.

"How could I possibly wake this monster?!" He Shaoxin sneered. "Little girl, I advise you to stop daydreaming! As long as he's on my turf, he won't have a chance to cause any trouble!"

"I'll drug him, lots and lots of drugs, all kinds of drugs, so he can't wake up." He yawned, his expression already showing his intention to get rid of the guest.

"...Palace Master, please don't worry. Once my legs are a little better, I will take my senior brother down the mountain immediately."

Pang Wan bit her lower lip, leaving a faint white mark.

"Since my senior brother injured people because he went into a state of demonic possession, I beg the Palace Master not to rush to take his life. It is not too late to have a fair duel after he has recovered."

She pleaded earnestly, her eyes filled with sorrow.

He Shaoxin was taken aback. He wanted to speak again, but he shut his mouth as if nothing had happened.

Pang Wan pushed the wheelchair and slid out.

She finally stopped the wheels when she reached a deserted spot in the corridor and covered her eyes with her hands.

His shoulders trembled silently, and tears streamed down his cheeks as if a raging flood had suddenly burst its banks.

Why did the Southern Barbarians become like this?

Why? How did they, fellow disciples, end up in such a state?

She missed the days when she was a holy nun, when she could do whatever she wanted, had martial arts skills, was physically healthy, and didn't have to live under someone else's roof or swallow her anger.

Why didn't I cherish it back then? Why did I foolishly place my hopes on someone else?

Having narrowly escaped death, she finally realized that this was not a Mary Sue world where noblewomen held sway, but a genuine martial arts world.

She acted recklessly, harming others and herself.

After crying, she wiped her face with her sleeve, her expression returning to its usual cold and aloof state.

She clung desperately to a pillar in the corridor, struggling to rise from her wheelchair, and tentatively took her first steps forward—she had to get out of bed and walk as soon as possible, no matter how painful, how difficult, or whether it would leave any lasting effects. Every day the Southern Barbarians stayed here increased their danger, and she had to take her senior brother away before the Palace Master made a move.

But after taking only two steps forward, he lost his balance and fell to the ground with a thud, his elbow a bloody mess.

Gritting her teeth, she braced herself against the ground and staggered to her feet, continuing to walk forward along the wall.

One step, one step, and another step.

The wound burned with pain, and tiny blood droplets began to congeal, embedding themselves into the whitewashed wall like red plum blossoms blooming in the snow in early spring.

She walked forward without realizing it, letting the sweat soak through the back of her clothes.

In the corridor not far behind her, someone was quietly watching her every move.

He watched her cry for as long as she cried.

When he saw her fall to the ground, he almost reached out his hands.

Only after he saw her stumble and crawl more than ten steps, drenched in sweat, back in her wheelchair, did he lower his eyes, turn around, and walk into the room.

**********

"Don't make things difficult for her."

He Shaoxin was pouring wine into the teapot when a clear, cold voice suddenly rang in his ears.

Looking up, I saw He Qinglu standing expressionlessly at the door.

"Hey, Little Lu, why are you meddling in other people's business?" He Shaoxin laughed heartily, putting one leg on the chair, looking like a carefree hooligan. "Come here and let your second uncle take a look. Have you taken the wrong medicine?"

He Qinglu stood rooted to the spot, stubbornly insisting, "I've already said, don't make things difficult for her."