Chapter 50 : The Anger of the Weak

Chapter 50: The Anger of the Weak

“The sword is gone?”

Elder Yue Su slowly turned her head, her eyes hidden in shadow, blending into the dim, oppressive inner hall.

Below the steps,

Cui Shuyu knelt, her forehead pressed against the cold cracks of the tiles, not daring to raise her head.

She stared at the pale hem of the robe before her, her eyes aching, yet she did not dare move her gaze upward even an inch.

“Yes.”

Her voice was low, dry, and trembling. “This disciple is incompetent.”

The hall was so quiet that even the sound of incense ash falling could be heard.

Then there was her own voice—her heartbeat.

Thump, thump, thump.

Each beat slammed against her throat.

She thought of the Red Lotus Sword.

It was the only gift her mother had ever given her. She had woven the sword tassel herself, spending an entire night on it.

Cui Shuyu was not afraid of that Third Realm Obsession Path practitioner, nor was she afraid of that Fourth Realm Guanyin Path cultivator.

With her swordsmanship combined with the techniques of the Grand Void Path, she was confident she could defeat them within two hundred moves.

But that Corpse Refinement Path practitioner…

Her hand clenched tightly within her sleeve.

That man had not even held a sword—clearly just a tree branch—yet she felt as though sword light had already struck. It was as if she had been nailed in place, a chilling cold seeping out from her bones.

Cui Shuyu had seen sword-cultivating elders of Canglan Mountain.

She had also seen great masters of swordsmanship from the Grand White Sword Sect.

But she had never felt anything like this before—as if a colossal entity stood before her, the very air dragging against the blade, not allowing anyone to draw a sword.

“Cui Shuyu… Cui Shuyu…”

Elder Yue Su shook her head, not continuing.

Yet the disappointment and mockery in her tone were enough for Cui Shuyu to imagine her gaze.

That emotionless downward glance, faintly observing the figure curled on the ground.

Like looking at a piece of porcelain unfit for use.

“Mother…”

Cui Shuyu gritted her teeth. “That person was from the Corpse Refinement Path. This disciple was careless and allowed his Corpse Puppet to get close…”

As soon as the words left her mouth, her face burned.

She was lying—making excuses.

Making an excuse for the fact that she had been frightened out of her wits merely by seeing him pick up a tree branch.

She did not dare say it outright.

She had practiced the sword for twenty years, holding one since she could walk—longer than she had cultivated the Grand Void Path techniques.

If word got out, how would her fellow disciples of Canglan Mountain laugh at her? What would her mother think of her?

The wind slipped in.

The hall grew cold.

Colder than the mountain winds outside.

Cui Shuyu felt her mother’s gaze fall upon her back—not heavy, but unwavering.

“What is that person’s cultivation level?”

“He… Fourth Realm Sitting in Forgetfulness… at the peak, only one step away from the Fifth Realm Heart Fasting!”

She paused, then hurriedly added, “That person seemed strange, not an ordinary rogue cultivator. He might even be a cultivator from some foreign demonic sect.”

“And then?”

And then.

And then I ran. I dropped my sword and ran back like a dog!

Cui Shuyu roared inwardly.

Elder Yue Su descended from the high platform, her footsteps neither hurried nor slow.

“From today onward, you are not permitted to rest at night. Kneel in the hall.”

“Mother! I’m still alive, aren’t I?!” Cui Shuyu could not help but protest.

“A cultivator of the Cui Family may flee, may die—but cannot return unscathed after losing their sword as you have! If those with other surnames see this, what will they think of us!”

Elder Yue Su’s face was terrifyingly cold, her words striking down like rain.

“If not for the imminent Direct Disciple Trial, and the fact that your foolish elder sister has been crippled, leaving our branch lacking capable members, I would certainly punish you properly!”

“Remember this! If you cannot become a Sect Master’s Direct Disciple, then do not blame me for showing no mercy!”

Cui Shuyu felt as if struck by lightning.

Her kneeling body seemed to sink even lower.

She could not hear even a trace of emotion in her mother’s words.

Whether it was her elder sister Cui Wenxi or herself, Cui Shuyu—

it was as if they existed only as tools for the Cui Family’s benefit.

The hall doors opened, then closed.

Elder Yue Su left.

Faint morning light filtered through the window lattice, falling onto the ground, where her white robe lay collapsed.

She stared blankly at the light.

Suddenly, something swelled within her chest, pressing so hard she could barely breathe.

She did not dare seek out that Corpse Refinement Path practitioner. Even recalling that sword intent made her feel as if she had fallen into an icy abyss.

She did not dare hate her mother. That was her mother—Elder Yue Su—the one who had given birth to her, yet never truly looked at her.

Only when her elder sister was suddenly crippled had that gaze descended upon her, suffocating in its weight.

This pent-up anger lodged firmly in her chest.

Unable to dissipate.

‘…If only Sister had been more capable.’

Then Mother would not have needed to look at her, right?

She knelt on the ground, pressing her lips tightly together.

Sister.

She repeated the word in her heart, again and again.

The pressure in her chest slowly eased.

As if she had finally found somewhere to release it.

Sister.

The faint light shifted away from her face, falling behind her.

She knelt in the darkness, fists clenched, her expression unseen.

“……”

—The brave grow angry and draw their blades against the strong. The weak grow angry and draw their blades against the weaker.

...

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“You should cultivate.”

Inside the guest room, Zhao Yuntong reminded him.

She sat on the edge of the tea table, her toes mercilessly pressing against Zhang Su’s coffin.

Her black dress tightly wrapped her rounded hips, pressing them slightly outward, the fabric stretched into full, smooth lines.

At this moment, Fang Chang had placed both coffins in the room to air them out.

Corpse Puppets were inherently yin and sinister, and the coffins were made of thousand-year-old locust wood—extremely yin in nature.

Combined with the Yin-gathering formation inside,

once the two coffins were placed, the entire room quickly became bone-chillingly cold.

Fang Chang ignored Zhao Yuntong.

Recently, she had been acting like a nagging mother, reminding him every day.

Fang Chang took two bowls.

He placed equal portions of Tai Sui Red Flesh, tung oil, mid-month water, Cold Soul Jade powder, and his own essence blood into them.

While mixing, no fire could be used.

Thus, a delicious Yin Corpse meal was completed.

Raising corpses was like tending flowers—the burial refinement shared the same principle.

It was not over after refinement; daily maintenance was essential.

Meals had to be fed.

And the nourishment and upkeep of the Corpse Puppet’s body were indispensable.

“Drink… and don’t step on someone’s head.”

Fang Chang handed it over.

Zhao Yuntong took it and drank it in one gulp.

Her lips were stained with the vivid red of essence blood and Tai Sui Red Flesh, like fruit pulp.

She leaned forward slightly, her chest naturally lowering, a heavy curve faintly visible beneath the black dress.

The loose collar drooped with gravity, outlining a rounded contour, gently swaying like ripe fruit hanging from a branch.

“You are still only at Qi Absorption. If you don’t cultivate, no matter how brilliant you are, you’ll only have a hundred years.”

“Who said I’m not cultivating?”

“You lazy glutton—don’t tell me those two pork knuckles you just ate count as cultivation?”

Fang Chang licked his lips.

His gaze drifted toward the leftover bones.

The meat had been tender, rich but not greasy, gelatinous and soft—the shopkeeper truly had skill.

Seeing him stare at the bones again,

Zhao Yuntong could not help but sigh.

“If I don’t keep an eye on you, you probably won’t even reach the Second Realm in this lifetime.”

As she spoke, she suddenly untied the jade belt at her slender waist. Her clothing slipped down over her snow-white shoulders, revealing the tightly wrapped fullness beneath.

She did not stop, pulling it further down.

Something sprang free.

The movement was enough to make one’s heart race.

Fang Chang raised his hand to cover his eyes.

Through the wide gaps between his fingers, he stared at Ultraman’s red warning light.

“What are you doing, Tongzi?”

Zhao Yuntong’s cheeks flushed, yet she still pretended to look helpless.

“I’ve already given you plenty of time. But ever since that dual cultivation, your cultivation hasn’t improved at all… I don’t want to wait until a hundred years later, only to become a pile of dust along with you.”