Volume One: The Emperor’s Sword Chapter 31: Taking Advantage

The stacked bones intertwined with one another, forming a ghastly, pale tower like a spire made of building blocks. Most of the skeletons were broken, and in many of the skulls, centipedes crawled in and out of empty eye sockets.

“So… so many dead!”
“There are too many bones—thousands, maybe tens of thousands!”
“How many people have these vines devoured?”

The group cried out in shock; Wu Dachuan was so frightened he fell to the ground. Yet, Yun Que didn’t share their assessment. The mountain of white bones before them was not necessarily the work of the vines. The identities of the dead were impossible to determine, but judging by the varying degrees of decay, they certainly hadn’t died at the same time. The deeper the bones were buried, the older they seemed. This whole mountain of bones had taken years to accumulate, while Misty Mountain itself had only existed for two or three months. If the thick fog was truly a phenomenon caused by the vines, then perhaps the bones within the mountain were what drew the vines here in the first place.

Yun Que surmised that the eerie vines had been attracted by the aura of these bones, rooting themselves deep within Misty Mountain and devouring any living creature that entered.

The sudden appearance of this bone mountain only heightened Wu Dachuan and the others’ fear, and they were eager to flee.

“Look! The vines!” Luo Xiaoyu pointed upwards. “There’s something inside the vines!”

Everyone looked up, Yun Que included. Through the twisted, rope-like vines of the monstrous tree, they could barely make out a blurry blue shape—a giant blossom embedded in the center of the vine’s trunk.

“A flower? Could it be a man-eating plant?” Luo Xiaoyu shrank back, startled by her own suspicion.

“It’s definitely some kind of monster flower growing on the vines! We need to get out of here, now!” Wu Dachuan stammered, trying to stand and run.

The others wanted to escape as well, but after having their blood and energy sapped by the vines, their legs were weak and they could hardly muster the strength to move. Their escape was a slow, shuffling retreat.

“It’s not a living thing,” Yun Que said quietly, shaking his head as he stared at the monstrous blue flower within the vines. His eyes were sharp enough to discern that the flower stood alone, not actually connected to the vines, almost as if it were wrapped up and imprisoned—much like the predicament Wu Dachuan and the others had faced moments before.

At that moment, the monstrous vine tree stirred.

Suddenly, all the vines tightened, coiling around the strange flower, attempting to strangle it. At the same time, an aura of sharpness radiated from the blue flower, slicing through the tangled vines. The struggle lasted as long as it takes to brew a cup of tea. The flower’s aura grew weaker with each passing moment, and it was clear it wouldn’t hold out much longer.

The vines loosened and twisted together, trapping the flower like a seasoned fisherman exhausting a struggling fish.

Witnessing this bizarre spectacle, Wu Dachuan and the others stared, wide-eyed, disbelief etched across their faces. The vines were no mindless things—they possessed a high degree of intelligence!

Yun Que’s pupils contracted as he whispered two words.

“Sword aura…”

Indeed, in the instant when the vines and the flower clashed, he sensed the presence of sword aura—emanating from the flower itself. A mere flower couldn’t possibly radiate sword aura. But there were swords in the world that could take the form of a blossom.

“That is no flower—it’s a sword,” Yun Que declared, a sudden realization striking him. The strange blue flower seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite recall where he’d seen it.

The others, Luo Xiaoyu included, were equally perplexed, scrutinizing the flower with renewed curiosity but failing to discern anything unusual. Only Wu Dachuan’s expression grew increasingly vacant.

“Sword aura, flower, magic treasure…” Wu Dachuan suddenly cried out, “That’s the Flower Spirit Sword! The number one sword of the Southern Court!”

At that moment, Yun Que’s memory flashed. He remembered exactly where he’d seen that blue blossom before. If the flower were reduced a hundredfold in size, it would resemble a sky-blue hairpin.

And that very hairpin had adorned Mu Qingyao’s hair the day Yun Que first entered the imperial city. The blue blossom hairpin was Mu Qingyao’s treasured ornament and also her magic weapon—the Flower Spirit Sword’s true form.

“Mu Qingyao…”

Yun Que’s gaze grew complicated. The Flower Spirit Sword was trapped here, still able to unleash sword aura, which meant Mu Qingyao herself must be inside as well. If nothing was done, the Flower Spirit Sword would not last much longer; judging by the earlier exchange, it was on the verge of being destroyed. Once deprived of her magic weapon’s protection, Mu Qingyao’s fate would be sealed—she would undoubtedly die here.

At this, Yun Que could no longer walk away. He cared little for the marriage pact between the Yun and Mu families—it mattered not whether it was kept or broken. If the Mu family wished to avoid trouble and break off the engagement with the infamous “jinxed heir of Great Yan,” he would raise both hands in approval.

But he could not simply stand by and watch Mu Qingyao perish here. She was, after all, the daughter of his father’s old friend.

“Women—always bringing trouble,” Yun Que muttered inwardly. He instructed Wu Dachuan and the others to leave and find a safer spot to recover before making their way out of the cave as soon as possible.

He himself strode toward the bone mountain—toward the strange, terrifying vines and the sky-blue sword blossom.

“Be careful, Brother Yun!” Wu Dachuan called out, full of concern. “It’s all well and good to rescue a beauty, but if you die, you won’t live to enjoy it, no matter how many you save!”

Yun Que paused, his back to the group, and smiled helplessly. “Being a hero doesn’t interest me, nor does rescuing damsels in distress. I just don’t wish to earn the reputation of a man who abandons his wife and child.”

He already bore enough unsavory titles—“the greatest jinx in Great Yan,” “the spendthrift heir,” “the nail in the border’s coffin,” “the useless young lord.” If he were also branded as “the cold-hearted marquis who lets his wife die,” he would have no face left to show.

He might not rescue just anyone, but how could he abandon his own betrothed? As long as the marriage contract remained, Mu Qingyao was his responsibility.

He would risk his life if he had to! Reputation could be discarded, but honor could not.

Wu Dachuan and Luo Xiaoyu exchanged bewildered glances, unable to comprehend the meaning of “abandoning wife and child.” Seeing Yun Que’s resolute advance, they could only support each other and retreat, moving beyond the bone mountain’s reach.

Once again the whispering sound arose—the vines, sensing the Flower Spirit Sword’s growing weakness, launched a renewed assault. From above, more slender tendrils fell, intertwining into ropes as thick as a child’s arm, writhing like serpents toward the Flower Spirit Sword.

Sword aura flared from the blossom, struggling to hold back the attack. Weakened, it could not withstand the onslaught—a bright green vine broke through and instantly split into countless thin tendrils, prying the flower open. The blossom could not last much longer.

When the flower opens, the soul dies.

Yun Que had no time to recover his sword spirit—he struck without hesitation. Leaping upward, he landed first on his flying sword, then used it as a springboard to vault onto the top of the blossom.

Sword light flashed as Yun Que sliced through the vines with incredible speed. The tendrils prying at the blossom were swiftly cleared away, but more vines descended from above, cascading like a curtain to shroud the area. Yun Que found himself trapped as well.

At that moment, the blossom beneath his feet suddenly split apart, and Yun Que fell inside, momentarily escaping danger. The falling vines, unable to find a target, twisted together once more, binding the blossom tightly in preparation for their next attack.

As Yun Que landed within the flower, a sharp dagger pressed against his throat. Before him was a breathtakingly beautiful face, eyes cold as stars, and a pair of snow-white shoulders. Then came the gleam of the dagger’s blade.

They were so close, they could hear each other’s heartbeats and breaths. Yun Que caught a faint scent of maidenly fragrance. Just as his gaze flickered, Mu Qingyao snapped coldly, “Don’t look.”

From her bare shoulders, it was clear her clothing had been shredded by the sword aura—she wore not a single thread.

Yun Que arched an eyebrow, leaned back a little, then slowly let his gaze travel downward, taking in the view at his leisure.

“I risked my life to save you—can’t I enjoy a little benefit?” he said. “What sort of logic is that?”

Mu Qingyao’s slender fingers tightened fiercely around the dagger. Murder flashed in her eyes again and again, but in the end, she did not strike.

At this moment, Yun Que and Mu Qingyao seemed linked by a silent understanding. He did not wish to become “the cold-hearted marquis who abandoned his wife.” She did not want to be known as “the lady who murdered her own husband.”