Song of Everlasting Regret - Chapter 40

The person being carried past them was none other than Meng Kuzhuo.

As the two guards carried Meng Kuzhuo past Yu Jingqiu, her soul seemed to crash violently back into her body.

She threw off the guard holding her arm, staggered forward, and fell directly upon Meng Kuzhuo.

The two guards carrying the girl had not been using much strength. Under Yu Jingqiu’s impact, Meng Kuzhuo slipped from their grasp.

Yu Jingqiu and Meng Kuzhuo fell together in a tangled heap.

When Yu Jingqiu pushed herself up, she pressed her fingers against Meng Kuzhuo’s neck.

She could find no sign of life.

There was only coldness—a bone-piercing chill that traveled through the girl’s icy skin like needles.

Yu Jingqiu’s hand began to tremble.

She wanted to call the name of this unfortunate disciple—the name the girl had loved so much.

But it felt as though stones were lodged inside her throat.

Her mouth opened soundlessly.

She raised her head toward the sky.

The sun was shining, yet everything seemed dark.

Countless fragments of grief gathered within her chest, becoming a raging flood that shattered everything in its path.

A stifled cry escaped her.

“Ah—!”

It overflowed with anguish.

Grief and fury engulfed her, causing the final trace of strength within her body to erupt all at once.

Like a mountain tiger roaring before it pounced, she sprang forward with such speed that her figure blurred before the eye.

The people present had inevitably underestimated her.

Who could have expected someone so gravely injured that she could barely walk, someone who appeared so weak and sickly, to retain enough strength to wield a sword?

Their carelessness gave Yu Jingqiu an opening.

She seized a sword.

Its dazzling blade thrust upward as part of one continuous, fluid movement.

The guard beside Meng Kuzhuo had no time to react.

He saw only a sword descending like thunder, aimed directly at his throat.

At the boundary between life and death, few people could remain perfectly calm.

Fear and helplessness instinctively appeared within his eyes.

Yu Jingqiu’s heart suddenly trembled.

Her movement faltered slightly.

During her more than ten years within the sect, she had seldom even quarreled with anyone, much less killed.

Since her master’s death, she had descended the mountain several times and fought many opponents.

But either Lang Ye had dealt the killing blow, they had escaped, or they had been defeated.

To this day, she had never taken a life.

Thus, when she found herself capable of piercing a man’s throat with one thrust and easily ending his life, uncertainty arose within her.

Long ago, Lou Xuanzhi had feared that after learning the truth of her origins, Yu Jingqiu would drown in a sea of blood and hatred, descend into endless suffering, be tormented by vengeance, and allow obsession to consume her mind.

She had therefore asked Huixin to teach Yu Jingqiu Buddhist scriptures and guide her.

Lou Xuanzhi wanted her to make benevolence the foundation of her nature and preserve serenity within her heart.

Then, even if she discovered her family’s blood feud one day, she might free herself from its chains and remain unbound.

When Huixin first met her, he had taught her with great devotion.

He hoped that she could cultivate a bodhi heart—seeking the Buddhist path above while guiding all living beings below.

He had even considered leading her into Buddhism.

After several days, however, Huixin frankly told her that she possessed no affinity with the Buddha and could not cultivate a Buddha’s heart.

He therefore asked only that she develop a tolerant and compassionate heart.

Yu Jingqiu had been obedient and perceptive since childhood, submitting readily to her elders.

Naturally, she followed every instruction given by her master’s guest.

Moreover, she had always enjoyed yielding to her junior brothers and sisters, so tolerance and compassion suited her temperament extremely well.

There was only one thing she had never understood.

The martial world was filled with bloodshed, swords, grudges, and vengeance.

As a disciple of a martial sect who cultivated sword arts, she would inevitably fight others and might one day take a life.

If her master wanted her to remain compassionate, why had she also taught her methods of killing?

Huixin had told her:

“A kind heart does not need a sword, but a kind person does.

“A kind heart cannot protect a kind person from danger. A sword can.

“This poor monk teaches you the Dharma so that you may protect your heart. Your master teaches you the sword so that you may protect your body.”

Yu Jingqiu had remembered those words.

Together with tolerance and compassion, they formed the foundation of her character.

And now, at this very moment, they caused her to hesitate.

That brief hesitation gave the others time to react.

Someone beside the guard blocked Yu Jingqiu’s sword, while the two men behind her lunged forward and pressed her down with four powerful hands.

She was already at the end of her strength.

That single strike had erupted entirely from grief and rage.

Once it was stopped, she no longer had the power to resist and was forced against the ground.

Her attack had failed.

The man remained alive and unharmed.

Yu Jingqiu had been filled with resentment, fury, grief, and hatred.

Yet even then, her heart had hesitated, and she had been unable to kill.

The green wind ceased.

The white clouds stood still.

Time shattered at that place.

Her tolerant and compassionate heart could not extinguish the flames of resentment within her.

Neither could they save her.

Yu Jingqiu closed her eyes in agony and released a despairing groan.

Fearing she might suddenly attack again, the guards sealed her acupoints and carried her into the medicine hall.

To the right stood six or seven black medicine furnaces engraved with beast patterns. Their material was unknown.

The dense medicinal odor filling the building came from them.

Three rows of medicine cabinets stood to the left.

Before them was a pearwood table covered with paper used for wrapping honey pills, upon which medicinal ingredients of many colors had been arranged.

A tall, thin figure stood before the table without turning around.

“Why were you delayed outside for so long?”

A subordinate reported, “Following Master Yao’s instructions, we did not seal the martial artists’ inner force.

“But we did not expect this woman to retain enough strength to seize a sword and resist despite being so seriously injured. She nearly killed someone, so…”

“Oh? She can still wield a sword?”

Master Yao turned around.

He wore a gray robe and had a hunched back.

His body was so thin that he seemed like a skeleton draped in human skin.

Two long strands of beard hung from his chin.

His eyes bulged outward, emitting a cold, sinister light, and his entire face resembled that of a rat.

He walked over to Yu Jingqiu and lifted her chin.

“Hm? You look somewhat familiar.”

He stroked his beard but could not recall where he had seen her.

A subordinate asked, “Master, should we unseal her inner force?”

Master Yao nodded.

The subordinate warned, “Please be careful. She may suddenly attack.”

The moment Yu Jingqiu’s acupoints were released, Master Yao struck.

His movements were so fast that even at her peak, Yu Jingqiu might not have been able to evade him, much less in her current condition.

He seized her right hand.

“A tiger with fangs will injure people.

“Since we cannot keep her inner force sealed, we will make certain she can no longer hold a sword.”

He asked, “Is this the hand she uses?”

“Yes.”

Master Yao smiled sinisterly.

A chill ran down Yu Jingqiu’s spine.

She struggled, but his hand clamped around her like an iron vice.

Master Yao extended two fingers.

His hands were skeletal, with ten long, thin fingers. The dark brown skin was wrinkled, and his fingernails were thick, long, and sharp like an eagle’s talons.

The two fingers descended toward her wrist.

In the blink of an eye, the nails pierced through her flesh.

The pain came a moment later.

Yu Jingqiu saw those nails enter her wrist like swords and watched beads of blood spray outward.

She heard herself gasp.

Then sharp agony exploded through her wrist.

It was different from an ordinary wound inflicted by a saber or sword.

A bone-deep chill accompanied it, traveling from the meridians in her right arm directly into her heart and marrow.

Her entire body trembled, and she could no longer tell whether she shook from pain or cold.

She did not even know whether Meng Kuzhuo was truly dead or alive.

Master Yao took out a pill, forced it into Yu Jingqiu’s mouth, and made her swallow.

Then he narrowed his eyes and watched her reaction.

The medicine dissolved within her mouth.

At first, she felt only a thread of icy energy slide down her throat.

But every sensation was overwhelmed by the pain in her wrist and the torment within her heart.

After the time needed to drink a cup of tea, the medicine took effect.

Yu Jingqiu felt an itch somewhere within her body.

She wanted to scratch it but could never find the proper place.

Then she realized the itching came from inside her bone marrow.

It became increasingly violent, making her want to tear open her flesh, rip apart her chest, break her bones, and scrape their insides clean.

At the same time, every bone in her body seemed to soften.

She had no strength, as though her bones themselves had become drunk.

Even slicing flesh slowly with a blunt knife could not compare with one ten-thousandth of this torment.

Yu Jingqiu whimpered.

She wanted to kill herself, but she could not lift a sword or cut her throat.

She could not turn over or smash her head against the ground.

Even if she gathered the resolve to bite through her tongue, it would not kill her.

Unable to live, yet unable to die.

That was all there was to it.

No wonder those formerly unyielding men had curled into corners, transformed into entirely different people, cringing and trembling in terror.

Master Yao carefully observed her reaction and checked the pulse of her left wrist.

He spoke to himself.

“The previous beggars died as soon as this medicine took effect, before this old man could observe the results.

“Martial artists truly are more resilient. Inner force and true qi protect their bodies, allowing them to endure long enough for this old man to witness the medicine’s effects.

“Excellent. Excellent.”

Master Yao glanced sideways at Yu Jingqiu and stroked his beard.

“This medicine shall be called… Drunken Bones.”

Yu Jingqiu felt as though her soul had been boiled within a cauldron of oil, while her body seemed to have been dragged from water.

Her consciousness scattered, then was pulled together again by pain.

Her gaze became unfocused.

She could only see Master Yao’s mouth opening and closing, unable to hear his words.

After a while, she could no longer even see him clearly.

Yet although she seemed unconscious, the agony remained terrifyingly distinct.

She did not know how much time passed before the inhuman torment finally subsided.

When Yu Jingqiu awakened again, she was back in the same cell, lying upon the same pile of straw.

She desperately wished everything had merely been a nightmare.

She attempted to close her right hand.

But it felt as though that hand no longer existed.

Turning her head, she saw her open palm.

No matter how much strength she used, she could not form a fist.

Her fingers only shifted slightly.

Yu Jingqiu supported herself with her left hand and struggled into a seated position.

She moved toward the corner, where a bowl of water had been placed.

She attempted to grasp it with her right hand.

Her fingers hooked over the rim, and she exerted force through her arm, intending to lift it.

But her fingers could not even bear the weight of a porcelain bowl.

They refused to obey and slipped loose.

The bowl struck the ground with a loud clatter.

The sound seemed to crash directly into her heart.

Yu Jingqiu stared blankly at her right hand for a long time.

She reached out.

Grasped the bowl.

Dropped it.

Reached out again.

Grasped it again.

Dropped it again.

Suddenly, anger erupted within her.

She used her right hand to strike and hammer the porcelain bowl.

But the meridians had been severed. Without true qi to protect her hand, how could mere flesh and bone break porcelain?

Her repeated blows tore the skin and drew blood.

Yet even her sense of pain had become dull, and she barely felt it.

At last, her anger drained away.

She sat there hollowly, holding her right hand.

Resting her forehead against the cell door, she closed her eyes.

No one knew what she was thinking.

A gust of wind stirred beside her.

Yu Jingqiu knew someone had arrived.

The person standing before her cell was a great expert.

Still, she remained seated and leaning against the door, as motionless as an old monk in meditation.

The Mad Swordsman stood outside.

He carried a long wooden tablet beneath one arm and held his sword in the other hand while staring at the person inside.

The prisoners in the surrounding cells immediately shrank into their corners, not daring even to look at him.

A guard entered the corridor.

Though frightened, he did not dare remain too far away.

“My Lord, what are your instructions?”

The Mad Swordsman flicked his blade.

There was no need for the guard to unlock the door.

Before his power, the cell door seemed made of mud and was cut apart by the sword.

The Mad Swordsman entered and seized Yu Jingqiu by the front of her robe.

Regardless of whether she wished to follow, his immense inner force pulled her body along, leaving her no choice.

The guards did not dare interfere.

He brought her back to his courtyard.

Compared with the last time Yu Jingqiu had seen him, he appeared even more deranged.

He nodded at her.

“You were right. Lü Keji is dead. He is dead.”

At those words, he suddenly flew into a rage and snapped the long wooden tablet in half.

“That old bastard! How dare he die!”

Yu Jingqiu lowered her gaze.

Her expression changed slightly.

The wooden object was a memorial tablet.

Lü Keji’s memorial tablet.

“You went to the Qianyuan Sect.”

The Mad Swordsman abruptly turned and glared at her with tiger-like eyes.

“I went.”

He had freely entered and left Tiger Roar Mountain and stolen a memorial tablet from the ancestral hall.

How many people in the present martial world possessed cultivation comparable to his?

“That old bastard was truly treacherous!

“He simply died without a care. Now how can I prove that my Three Poisons Sword Art is superior to his Qianyuan Sword Art?

“How can I prove that I, the Mad Swordsman, am greater than Lü Keji?

“Bastard! Wretched bastard!”

Yu Jingqiu’s expression remained cold.

“Grandmaster is dead. Everything has already been decided.

“You can never defeat a dead man.

“You are destined to remain inferior to him.”

“No!”

The Mad Swordsman roared like an enraged lion.

After his fury passed, he shook his head repeatedly.

He stood dazed for a long while, murmuring “No” again and again as though possessed.

Then light suddenly returned to his eyes.

A smile appeared upon his face.

Almost as if showing off, he said to Yu Jingqiu, “He had so many disciples and descendants. Surely one of them inherited his true teachings.

“When that person masters the Qianyuan Sword Art, I can challenge them instead. It will be the same!”

Yu Jingqiu replied, “If you challenge one of his disciples or granddisciples, you will belong to an older generation.

“You would be using age and strength to bully the young. Even victory would carry no honor.

“Furthermore, for someone’s sword art to mature enough to rival Grandmaster’s would require at least twenty or thirty years.

“When will your life reach its limit? Can you survive until that day?”

She appeared completely unconcerned that her words might provoke the Mad Swordsman into killing her in a fit of rage.

The Mad Swordsman had clearly never considered this.

His face fell.

A moment later, however, delight returned.

“Then my disciple will fight his disciple!

“My disciple will use the Three Poisons Sword Art I created to defeat the Qianyuan Sword Art he improved.

“That will still prove that I defeated him—that he was inferior to me!”

After saying it aloud, he repeatedly agreed with himself.

“Yes. Yes, yes!

“I cannot wait, but my disciple can. And my disciple’s disciple!”

Then he remembered that he had devoted himself entirely to swordsmanship for twenty years without interruption.

Forget disciples—he did not even have children.

Where could he suddenly find a satisfactory student?

His emotions shifted rapidly between delight and fury, fully displaying his madness.

His eyes darted about before abruptly fixing upon Yu Jingqiu.

“You!”

The person before him knew the Qianyuan Sword Art and understood its crucial weaknesses and flaws.

If he could also subdue a disciple of the Qianyuan Sect and force Lü Keji’s granddisciple to sincerely admit that the Three Poisons Sword Art surpassed the Qianyuan Sword Art—and that the Mad Swordsman surpassed Lü Keji—it would bring him even greater satisfaction.

The more he considered it, the more delighted he became.

“Kneel and take me as your master.”

“…”

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