Love Burning Amidst the Ashes. - Chapter 6 - The Deadwood Pursuit

A ghastly, bone-deep blast of Yin-lightning ripped through the oppressive darkness of the tunnel, its death-shriek freezing the very soul. It shot unerringly for Xu Qing Xuan’s back. He could feel the hairs on his neck stand up, the terrifying chill of it seeping into his bones before the strike even landed.

There was no dodging it.

The shadow of death fell over him like an iron curtain.

But in that split second—

The Yin-Yang jade pendant at his chest erupted with a scalding heat unlike anything before! A torrent of ancient, primordial power—cool and immense—surged into his pain-fractured mind. It was so overwhelming that it forcibly parted the chaotic flood of information raging in his head. For the first time, an incredibly complex defensive sigil, woven from distorted starlight and resembling twisted space, burned itself into his consciousness with perfect clarity.

It was pure instinct—a gift from the jade, a power beyond the mundane.

Still in a full sprint, Xu Qing Xuan twisted around violently, the motion so abrupt it nearly threw his younger brother from his back. With every ounce of his strength and will, tracing the sigil’s path now etched in his mind, he swung his jade-clutching right hand behind him!

No incantation. No cultivated energy. Only a desperate, last-ditch resolve guided by something deeper than blood.

Vvrm—!

A low, strange thrum, like a sigh from antiquity, resonated in the narrow passage.

The air a foot in front of his outstretched arm visibly warped. Light bent and folded as if crumpled by an unseen force. The Yin-Yang pendant in his palm blazed with an intense, intertwined light of black and white. The grain-of-rice-sized bead at its core shone like a miniature star.

KABOOM—!!!

The pale Yin-lightning smashed into the distorted space.

There was no deafening explosion, but a deep, sickening thud that seemed to stop the heart—like a giant’s hammer striking an impossibly tough hide.

The intertwined lights of black and white and the corpse-pale Yin thunder crazily clawed at and annihilated each other. A storm of wild energy, sharp as a thousand razors, erupted outwards. Xu Qing Xuan bore the brunt of it.

“Guh!” He was hurled forward as if struck by a titanic force, a torrent of hot blood spewing from his mouth, splattering across the wet, cold stone floor. The impact wrenched a pained grunt and a trickle of blood from his brother on his back. Xu Qing Xuan felt his organs were jolted out of place; a bone-splintering agony shot through his right arm. The pendant was torn from his grasp, clattering to the ground, its brilliant light dimming to a feeble glimmer.

Yet, that fatal Yin-lightning had been blocked—ninety percent of its power dissipated by that desperate, space-warping defense. The remaining sliver of Yin force pierced through, a needle of icy venom stabbing deep into Xu Qing Xuan’s back.

“AAGH—!” He choked back a scream, feeling a corrosive, frigid power invade his body, savagely tearing through his meridians. The fabric on his back charred and disintegrated, revealing a vicious, black-smoke-tainted burn. Agony washed over him in waves; his vision flickered, threatening to plunge into darkness.

“Brother?!” The violent shock jolted Xu Qing Feng to wakefulness. He looked around in dazed terror, seeing only his elder brother’s blood-spattered form and the terrifying clash of lights.

“Go!” Xu Qing Xuan’s voice was a bloody, ragged rasp, a torn bellows. Sheer will to survive overrode the all-consuming pain. He saw it ahead—the tunnel’s end no longer showed solid rock, but the churning, turbulent waters of an underground river, reeking of damp and decay!

Ignoring the corrosive agony of the Yin energy and the dizziness, he snatched the dimmed pendant from the floor with his still-functional left hand, shoving it into his robe. His right arm, screaming in protest, locked tightly around his brother, who was slipping from the jolts. With the last of his strength, he leaped into the raging, dark waters!

SPLASH!

Icy coldness swallowed them whole, a million needles stabbing into their flesh. The Yin-lightning scar on Xu Qing Xuan’s back flared with a soul-gnawing pain. The torrential current seized them, dragging them down into a furious whirlpool, hurling them downstream. Choking, bloody water filled their mouths and noses. Only suffocating, endless darkness lay before them.

“Cough… Brother?!” Xu Qing Feng, shocked awake by the cold, struggled weakly.

“Don’t fight it… Go with the current…” Xu Qing Xuan’s voice was a whisper, barely audible over the water. He held fast to his brother, his other hand paddling desperately, fighting just to keep their heads above the churning water and snatch a breath. Against his chest, the pendant emitted a faint, steady coolness, a fragile bastion against the invading Yin energy, clinging to the last shreds of his consciousness.

They lost all sense of time in the cold, dark, violent rush of the subterranean river. Just as Xu Qing Xuan’s strength was at its absolute end, his mind on the verge of fading completely—the space ahead suddenly opened up!

A tremendous force violently ejected them from the narrow confines of the underground river! Blinding daylight (though gloomy) suddenly assaulted their vision! Icy air flooded their lungs!

They had been flushed out from the bowels of the earth and into a primeval forest shrouded in thick fog, deathly silent, and radiating an aura of profound eeriness and malevolence—the Corpse-Burying Woods!

The true Corpse-Burying Woods!

Towering ancient trees blotted out the sky, their branches gnarled and twisted like ghostly claws reaching for the gray heavens. A thick layer of rotted leaves, accumulated over who knows how many years, carpeted the ground, emitting a pungent, eye-watering stench. Thick vines, coiled like giant pythons around the trunks, dripped with trailing aerial roots. The mist was impenetrable, a pallid shroud floating between the trees, limiting their visibility to just a few yards ahead.

Even more unnerving were the scattered bones, half-buried in the leaf litter and muck—some humanoid, others from massive beasts—all gleaming with a sinister, cold light in the dismal gloom. Silence! An absolute, suffocating silence! Apart from the water’s rush and their own ragged breathing, not a single birdcall or insect chirp could be heard, as if this were a deathly realm utterly forsaken by life itself.

“Cough… Hck!” Xu Qing Xuan struggled onto the bank’s cold, slick mud and spat out another mouthful of clotted blood tainted with a black aura. The Yin evil energy in his back continuously corroded his body, bringing waves of dizziness and bone-deep chill. Gritting his teeth, he hauled a shivering, weak Xu Qing Feng, whose lips were turning blue from the cold, onto the shore.

“Brother… Your… your wounds…” Xu Qing Feng stared at the vicious, blackened burn marring his brother’s back, still leaking a dark miasma, and at his brother’s paper-pale, blood-streaked face. His eyes were filled with terror and deep concern.

“Not… dead yet…” Xu Qing Xuan’s voice was a sandpaper rasp as he gasped for breath. His cold eyes, sharp and wary as a leopard’s, swiftly scanned the horrifying death-forest. The jade pendant against his chest continued to emit a faint, cooling energy, stubbornly resisting the invasive Yin force and granting him the last shred of strength to stay conscious. He knew the danger was far from over! The grey-robed Taoist and their pursuers would not give up easily! No matter how perilous the Corpse-Burying Woods were, they wouldn’t stop those ‘Immortals’ who could wield talismanic power!

They had to hide their tracks, immediately! They had to treat their wounds! They had to recover their strength!

Suppressing the agonizing pain, he quickly assessed their surroundings. The river exit had a strong current, and the muddy banks showed clear drag marks. The fog, while thick, wasn’t impervious. Those pursuers… could arrive at any moment!

“Qing Feng… Can you move?” Xu Qing Xuan looked at his brother, his voice thick with concern.

Xu Qing Feng clenched his jaw, wiped the mud and water from his face, and struggled to his feet. Though his steps were unsteady, a stubborn fire burned in his eyes. “Yes!”

“Follow me!” Xu Qing Xuan wasted no more words. Bearing the searing pain and dizziness from his back, he identified a direction—away from the river, deeper into the forest where the fog grew denser, and the bones and decay were more plentiful. He scooped up a handful of the foul-smelling muck and without hesitation smeared it over his and his brother’s faces, clothes, and hair, attempting to mask their living scent. Then, pulling his brother along, he trudged step by step into the thick, slippery, icy-cold carpet of rot, each footfall placed with careful precision to minimize their trail as they staggered deeper into the mist and the heart of death.

Less time than it takes to drink a cup of tea after they left the bank—

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Several figures shot out from the river exit like phantoms, landing steadily on the muddy shore! It was the grey-robed Taoist, the hook-nosed leader, and three other black-clad knights who, though disheveled (bearing scorch marks and the grime of chaos), still had fiercely determined eyes!

The grey-robed Taoist’s face was dark enough to drip water, his robes scorched and torn—clearly, he too had suffered not insignificant losses amidst the toxic fires and chaos of the tunnel. In his hand, he held the black detection compass, its central needle now swinging violently back and forth, its crimson light flickering erratically, seemingly heavily disrupted by the potent death aura and Yin energy of this place.

“Damn it! The compass is jammed by the corpse-qi here!” the Taoist rasped, voice thick with suppressed fury. “I can only vaguely sense the jade’s residual aura went… that way!” His withered finger pointed in the direction the Xu brothers had taken.

“Hmph! They can’t have gone far!” The hook-nosed leader’s hawk-like eyes swept over the fresh drag marks and clear footprints on the bank, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. “One of them took your Yin-Scorch Lightning Talisman, Taoist—if he’s not dead, he’s crippled! The other is just a brat, what can he possibly do? After them! Follow the trail! Search carefully! I want them alive or dead! But that jade will be mine!” He drew the long sword from his waist, its blade glinting with a cold, deadly light.

The three knights moved on command, like well-trained hounds, swiftly fanning out and following the trail—partially obscured but not entirely erased—left by the Xu brothers, along with the faint residual scent of living beings in the air, pursuing them deep into the mist-shrouded forest. Their movements were agile, clearly possessing stamina and tracking skills far beyond ordinary men; even in this unnerving Corpse-Burying Woods, they seemed undeterred.

The grey-robed Taoist and the hook-nosed leader followed at a slower pace behind. The Taoist still tried to stabilize his compass, while the leader scanned the bizarre surroundings with a dark, vigilant gaze, wary of any potential dangers lurking within.

Xu Qing Xuan, dragging Xu Qing Feng along, trudged with immense difficulty through the thick, stinking morass of decay. Every step sent a jolt of agony through his back; the Yin evil energy writhed through his meridians like an icy serpent, bringing spells of vertigo and a chill that pierced to the bone. Xu Qing Feng was in slightly better condition, but severely exhausted, his footsteps faltering. The thick fog, viscous as curdled milk, severely hampered their vision; the distorted, grotesque trees and half-buried bones loomed like man-eating specters within it. In the deathly quiet, the only sounds were their own ragged breathing and the unnaturally loud crunch and squelch of their feet breaking through the brittle litter, each noise a stark proclamation of their presence in the suffocating silence.

Suddenly!

Xu Qing Xuan froze mid-step.
In one swift motion, he shoved Xu Qing Feng down into the thick carpet of dead leaves, then dropped low himself, holding his breath.
His bloodshot eyes—burning from pain and exhaustion—locked sharply onto the fog ahead.

Not far away, between several twisted, gnarled trees, came the faint sound of hushed voices—and the rustle of vines being pushed aside.
The pursuers.
They’d caught up—much faster than he expected!

“Boss, the trail’s messy here. That brat’s clever—he covered his footprints with rotten leaves…”
“Search carefully! They can’t have gone far! Spread out and watch your step—this damned place gives me the creeps!”
“Yes, sir!”

The sounds were closing in.
Through the swirling fog, faint silhouettes began to take shape.

Xu Qing Xuan’s heart sank like a stone.
Fighting was suicide.
Hiding? Impossible. The ground here was too open; the fallen leaves too shallow to cover two grown men.
Even though the jade pendant’s aura was weak, the enemy had a spirit compass—sooner or later, they’d be found.

Cold despair washed over him.
But the faint, icy pulse from the jade at his chest kept his mind from shattering completely.
His eyes, sharp as blades, swept the surroundings—

To the left: a steep slope slick with moss and jagged rocks—impossible to climb without slipping or drawing attention.
To the right: a thicket of black vines, each as thick as a man’s wrist, bristling with thorns.
They coiled like living serpents around dead trees, forming a natural wall of barbs that reeked of decay.
In the depths of that tangle, half-covered skeletons of beasts lay twisted and white—silent warnings.

“Qing Feng,” Xu Qing Xuan whispered, his voice barely audible but firm as steel,
“see those vines? Crawl in. No matter how much it hurts—don’t make a sound. Hold your breath. Wait for my signal.”

“Brother… what about you—?” Xu Qing Feng’s voice trembled. His gaze darted from the black vines to the blood seeping from his brother’s back.

“Go!” Xu Qing Xuan hissed, his eyes sharp as knives.

Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, Xu Qing Feng obeyed.
Like a nimble fox, he crouched low and slipped into the wall of thorns, grimacing as the barbs tore into his skin.
Within moments, his figure vanished—swallowed by mist and darkness.

Xu Qing Xuan didn’t follow right away.
Ignoring the waves of pain threatening to knock him out, he moved with the silent precision of a hunter.
He erased their footprints, scattered fresh leaves, and restored the ground to its original state.

Then his gaze landed on a patch of soil in front of the vine wall—drier than the rest, where the leaves were thinner and the black mud showed through.
Perfect.

He crawled over, drew a small silver blade from his boot, and began digging furiously despite the searing pain in his arm.
The earth was soft beneath the rotting leaves.
Soon, a shallow pit—half a foot deep—appeared.

Now he needed bait.

His eyes flicked around until they found a few dry animal bones.
He grabbed one, then—without hesitation—sliced his fingertip open.

Blood welled up instantly.

He let a few drops fall onto the bone, then buried it in the pit, covering it carefully with soil and leaves—leaving only the faintest, nearly invisible trace of blood scent.
The spot lay directly in front of the vine wall’s entrance.

Next, he crept to the side of the thicket, where the ground was muddy and wet.
He dug again, faster this time, making only a shallow hole.
He laid a few rotten branches across it, covered it with a thin layer of mud and leaves, until it looked completely natural.

A trap—simple, but deadly.

The bloody bone would draw attention.
The false ground just ahead… would be the killer.

By the time he finished, Xu Qing Xuan was trembling, vision darkening.
But he forced himself onward.
Turning, he slipped into the vines, thorns tearing at his flesh as he disappeared into the suffocating darkness that smelled of death.

He had barely settled, breath held, when footsteps echoed through the fog—close, far too close!

A dark-clad knight emerged from the mist, sword in hand, eyes scanning sharply.
Then his gaze stopped—right on the patch of disturbed earth where the faint scent of blood lingered.

> “Boss! Over here—I found something!”

He stepped forward cautiously—
completely unaware that beneath that harmless-looking mud… death was waiting.

Hidden deep within the tangled thorns, Xu Qing Xuan stared without blinking through the slits between the vines, his gaze locked on the knight’s footsteps.
His heart hammered in his chest as if it would burst through his ribs. The pain in his back and the chilling cold that gnawed at him were momentarily drowned out by a crushing, razor-sharp tension.

One step… two steps…
The knight’s boot landed squarely on the patch of mud disguised with wet leaves and rotten twigs.

“Pssh!”
“Crack!”
“Aaaah!”

The ground gave way at once. The rotten branches couldn’t bear the weight of a grown man and snapped with a chorus of breaks. The knight pitched forward as his foot sank into the mire, losing his balance. A shocked, angry cry ripped from his throat and his long sword flew from his hand.

And just as his body lurched forward—his center of gravity gone—

“Sssst!”
A whisper of sound, barely there, like air being sliced.

From the dark of the brambles a gleam of silver flashed—swift and venomous as a snake’s fang.

It was Xu Qing Xuan.

Seizing that sliver of an instant while his opponent tumbled, he summoned the last of his strength and his deadly precision to hurl his small dagger—streaked with mud and blood—directly at the knight’s exposed throat.

Timing. Angle. Force—perfect.

A cold streak of silver vanished into the fog.

“Ugh—!”
The knight’s cry cut off mid-sound. He clutched his neck in vain; between his fingers the tiny dagger was lodged to the hilt. Blood spouted like a fountain. His eyes bulged with stunned disbelief and then hopelessness. His body convulsed violently a few times before crumpling face-first into the cold muck and rotten leaves, splattering filth in every direction.

One throw—one death.

It all happened in a heartbeat.

“What’s going on?!”
“Lao Wu!”

The two other pursuing knights, along with the hard-faced leader and the grey-robed elder behind them, were stunned into silence. They’d only seen their comrade sink into the pit, then a flash of silver—and suddenly their companion lay dead.

“Watch out! It’s an ambush!”

The leader barked, drawing his sword, eyes sweeping the fog-choked woods and toward the foul, sinister thicket.

The grey-robed elder’s muddied eyes snapped toward the brambles with murderous intent. In his hand the black compass trembled violently; its needle flickered a sanguine glow, pointing straight into the tangle of vines.

Meanwhile, within the brambles, Xu Qing Xuan—having just thrown his last dagger—felt the world go black. Exhaustion and bone-deep cold crept over him. He sagged against the icy vines and then collapsed, consciousness slipping away.

At his chest, the yin-yang jade pendant still emitted a faint, resilient chill—like the last candle flame fighting a storm, clinging stubbornly to whatever life remained.

Beside him, Xu Qing Feng clamped his mouth shut to stifle any sound. His eyes were wide, fixed on the fallen knight and the enraged pursuers outside, then on his brother, who lay barely breathing. Fear and fury churned in him, almost tearing him apart, yet he dared not move.

“Come out, you little brats!”
The elder’s cold voice echoed like a wind from the nine hells.
“If you don’t come out, I’ll set this cursed place ablaze until it’s nothing but ash! You’ll burn with all these rotten bones!”

The fog-thickened Gravewood pulsed with renewed killing intent—and Xu Qing Xuan had already fallen unconscious.