He forced himself to think clearly. What was the best possible course of action? If everyone on the Peak had had their spiritual powers suppressed, they were effectively sitting ducks for these demons. They had to figure out where exactly the infernal rift had opened, but first the more pressing issue was that they needed reinforcements, and soon, because he couldn’t possibly handle so many demons on his own.
The five sects of the Coalition were all too far away. Even his home sect was a full day’s sword journey away if they didn’t stop to rest at all along the way; there was no way they could make it before the siege destroyed the entire Peak. His best choice was to find a way to send a distress signal to Mushan Temple, the sect that was supposed to be overseeing Raintree Town. But the problem was that he had no idea where it was, for him to even send the communication spell.
“Hyung,” he called, running back to Minwoo’s side. “I need to send a signal to Mushan Temple to tell them we need help, but I don’t know where it is.”
Minwoo shook thick, pungent black blood off the blade of his longsword. “Throw a distress flare talisman,” he said, panting lightly. “Do you know it?”
Gyuvin shook his head, and Minwoo sighed, taking Gyuvin’s hand and holding it steady. “Follow.” He drew quick strokes through the air, Gyuvin’s fingertip lighting up with gold, and the talisman glowed in acknowledgement when the last stroke was completed. “Mushan Temple is to the North of the Peak. Aim it there.”
Minwoo pointed in the distant horizon and Gyuvin sent the talisman shooting into the sky, a streak of gold breaking through the dark, churning crimson. Now, all they could do was hope the Temple received their distress signal and wait for them to arrive. Gyuvin slipped off again, trying his best to scan the carnage to look for his friends. Some part of him desperately, desperately wanted to search for Ricky first, but he reminded himself that in a crisis he had to prioritize. Ricky was adept with Tianling and would be fine for a while, but the cultivators without regular weapons were all in imminent danger.
“Yujin!”
He caught a glimpse of white and blue robes in the distance, one sleeve spattered with blood, as Yujin backed away from a group of three snake-like demons that slithered towards him. Gyuvin sprinted towards him with reckless abandon, slashing away at the other demons that came into his path, but even as he closed the distance, he could tell he wasn’t going to reach in time.
Gripping Yuexi in his hand, he aimed, and threw. The jade-tipped polearm cut through the air like a knife through butter, slicing cleanly through the three approaching demons, and returning to Gyuvin’s hand in one fell swoop. “Yujin, are you okay?” he said, running up to him. “You’re bleeding…”
“I’m fine,” Yujin insisted, trying his best not to look like he was in pain. “Thanks for rescuing me. How come you can use your holy weapon and I can’t use mine?”
“I don’t know,” Gyuvin answered, drawing a simple healing talisman and applying it to Yujin’s arm. “But you can’t be alone, it’s not safe. Come with me, okay? Where’s Zhanghao-hyung?”
“I think he’s with Ricky,” Yujin said. “But he’s near, I can hear his jinghu.”
“His what?”
“His instrument!” Yujin repeated, grabbing Gyuvin’s hand to pull him in the right direction. “Didn’t you realize he doesn’t like using Xuanhua? It’s because he’s not fundamentally a fighter, he’s a defender. The customized weapon the Forge gave him was a jinghu.”
Xuanhua was Zhanghao’s holy weapon. Gyuvin had only seen him wield it once or twice, but as far as he remembered, it was a silver-plated chain whip with deadly sharp scales lining each link. He’d never known Zhanghao wasn’t a fighter, but it made sense with everything Yujin was saying.
Gyuvin and Yujin turned the corner of the breezeway into a second open area. He could hear it now, strains of jinghu music breaking through the human screams and demon howls. He didn’t know how effective Zhanghao’s jinghu could be without any spiritual power, but as his eyes fixed on the instrument, he realized the person playing it wasn’t Zhanghao. It was Ricky.
The jinghu glowed blue as Ricky struggled to concentrate on the correct notes in the midst of the chaos, but it seemed to be working; Zhanghao held Tianling in his hand, and the area around them was littered with the black ash of demon remains. Gyuvin felt something rush into his head, a wave of relief. So Ricky still had his spiritual powers too, and he could protect himself just fine. He handed Yujin off to them, a great weight off his heart.
“Take care of Yujin, please,” he said, already turning to leave. “Stay here, I’m going to look for Hanbin-hyung and Jiwoong-hyung.”
He located Jiwoong relatively easily, just a distance away next to Gunwook who was hacking away at demons with his scythe, his hair falling into his face from the exertion. Gyuvin cleared the space around them with a demonic repulsion talisman and pulled them along with him to deposit them in the little alcove Ricky, Zhanghao and Yujin were in. That alcove would be protected as long as Ricky was playing the jinghu, and it was safer for all the vulnerable people to be in one place.
Something soared abovehead just then, and Gyuvin looked up. Cultivators dressed in dark brown robes circled the Peak, beginning their descent into the courtyard. The Mushan Temple cultivators had heard their distress call, and they had arrived.
He administered as many enhancement talismans as he could on himself, in a bid to get his spiritual reserves back up so he could use his killing technique again, but his recovery was slow. As he waited for the Mushan Temple monks to enter the courtyard, a sudden blast shook the ground, and a deafening boom from overhead made his ears ring.
Looking up into the sky, he watched as a rift tore in the midst of the crimson clouds, a horde of winged, screeching demons flooding out, blanketing the sky with shadow.
An infernal rift?Â
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