The Secret of Su Yuehe

An Changqing crouched down, looking at the sole survivor.

“Talk. Where is your base?”

“And who sent you?”

The assassin, his limbs crippled, lifted his head, revealing a sinister grin.

He coughed up a mouthful of blood and spoke in a hoarse, fanatical voice.

“You hypocrites will never find the Saint Lord’s glory.”

“This is only the beginning.”

“Is that so?”

An Changqing wasn’t surprised.

Just as the assassin started to sneer, two jets of black flame erupted from his eyes without warning.

“Ah—”

The eerie black fire filled his eye sockets and spread through his seven orifices.

An Changqing, Long Ao, and Su Yuehe all showed shock. Su Yuehe tried to extinguish the flames, but it was completely useless.

The assassin didn’t scream; he didn’t even struggle. In the black fire, he rapidly turned to a pile of ashes, scattering in the wind.

Seeing that the assassin hadn’t left even a trace of his soul, the warmth in Su Yuehe’s eyes faded bit by bit.

Just as the ashes were about to dissipate entirely, she pressed her fingers together like a sword and struck her brow. A faint, barely visible light shot from her fingertip, instantly wrapping around a wisp of formless remnant soul in the air.

An Changqing’s pupils contracted. He recognized that hand seal—it was a forbidden soul-reaping technique long banned!

It was forbidden because the technique was sinister, vicious, and against the natural order, causing immense suffering to both the caster and the target.

He wasn’t surprised that Su Yuehe had gotten her hands on it, but he was shocked that she had actually learned soul reaping.

Su Yuehe ignored his reaction. The bloodlight at her fingertips flared, forcefully dragging the formless remnant soul back into her palm, where it coalesced into a tormented, illusory face.

Her eyes closed tight. Her face instantly went pale, and fine beads of cold sweat appeared on her temples.

An Changqing’s heart tightened, but then he saw her open her eyes. The illusion in her palm hissed and turned to smoke.

“The slaughterhouse.” Su Yuehe’s voice was weak, but her gaze was colder than ever. “Their base is in the slaughterhouse.”

An Changqing’s heart shook violently. He stared at her pale face, a storm raging inside him.

He and Su Yuehe had grown up together. In his heart, she had always been that clever, kind girl.

He absolutely could not reconcile that image with the woman before him, who had just used a forbidden technique without flinching.

For the first time, An Changqing felt a deep, creeping dread.

With Su Yuehe’s terrifying thirst for knowledge—was a forbidden art that backfired on the caster really something she had used for the first time?

...

Night rain hammered the iron roofs of the old city, its clatter drowning out all movement.

Four figures followed the clue Su Yuehe had extracted, stopping before a massive, dilapidated building.

This was on the edge of the northern district’s old town—a meat-packing slaughterhouse abandoned years ago.

An Changqing looked up at the rain-obscured sign, his expression grave.

The massive iron door stood ajar, leaving a gap barely wide enough for one person to pass through. From within, a thick smell of blood poured out constantly.

The stench mixed with the rain’s dampness and the metallic rust, pungent and overwhelming.

Long Ao fanned the air before his nose, frowning.

Such a heavy smell of blood clearly meant this place wasn’t an abandoned slaughterhouse.

They had come to the right place.

【High energy warning ahead—non-combatants, evacuate.】

【Isn’t this the classic horror movie setup? An abandoned slaughterhouse, a rainy night, a half-open door...】

【All the ingredients are here—just waiting for the main characters to walk in.】

Chen Guan watched the floating comments on his retina, his expression unchanging, standing silently at the back of the group.

“I’ll go in first and take a look.”

Long Ao was about to charge in, pushing open the heavy iron door.

The metal scraped, letting out a screeching sound. The four of them slipped one by one into the darkness of the factory grounds.

The silence around them was suffocating.

The sound of raindrops falling into puddles, combined with the omnipresent smell of blood, pushed the tension to its limit.

They crossed the weed-choked front yard and soon found the main building.

It was a massive cold-storage room for raw meat.

The thick metal door of the cold room was also unlocked.

An Changqing and Chen Guan exchanged a glance. Together, they slowly pushed the door open.

An even denser smell of blood rushed out, mixed with a biting chill.

Long Ao started to speak, but the moment he saw the inside of the cold room, he swallowed his words.

Inside the massive cold room, rows upon rows of metal hooks hung from the ceiling.

Suspended on them were not the usual pork or beef.

They were people stripped of their clothes.

Men and women, old and young.

Their limbs were pierced by iron hooks, dangling upside down, covered with wounds from struggling.

Among those faces were several from the mission briefing—association operatives.

“Bastards.”

Long Ao clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked, his eyes instantly bloodshot.

The warmth that had risen in Su Yuehe’s eyes drained away again.

Behind them, the metal door slammed shut with a loud bang.

Above the walls on all sides of the cold room, dozens of high-intensity searchlights blazed on, flooding the four of them with blinding white light.

“A trap indeed.”

An Changqing’s voice was calm. Now that the moment had come, it actually set his mind at ease.

No sooner had he spoken than hundreds of dark launching ports snapped open on the walls. Poisoned arrows and micro-bombs glittering with spiritual energy rained down from every direction, weaving a death net with no gaps.

“Bring it on!”

Long Ao roared, ready to block them with his body.

“Stellar Shift.”

An Changqing drew his sword and traced a circle in front of him. Sword light flowed, forming a taiji disk of spiritual energy.

All the poisoned arrows and bombs aimed at them, the moment they hit the taiji disk, were pulled by a gentle yet irresistible force, turned around, and shot back.

They returned faster than they had come.

A series of violent explosions erupted in the cold room. Flames and smoke devoured the hidden mechanisms, and the walls were blasted into a chaotic mess.

Long Ao awkwardly withdrew his hand. He always forgot his teammates’ abilities when he got anxious, instinctively wanting to protect everyone.

Clap, clap, clap.

As the explosion’s aftereffects faded, crisp applause echoed through the factory’s loudspeakers.

A cultured, smiling male voice resonated through the empty building.

“Truly worthy of the chosen ones from Huaqing Academy—Master An’s son lives up to his reputation.”

“Such strength, such composure. It’s mesmerizing.”

Long Ao yelled toward the speakers, “You coward hiding in the shadows, get your ass out here if you’ve got the guts!”

The voice paid no attention to Long Ao’s rant.

Instead, it intoned in a lyrical cadence, “Don’t rush. The real show has just begun.”

“Your blood and flesh—so full of life—are just the right vintage to welcome the Great Lord’s descent and rebirth.”

As the man’s voice faded, the corpses hanging by hooks in the cold storage all began to twitch violently.

Their eyes snapped open.

Those eyes were filled with darkness, devoid of any emotion.