113 - Dungeon Growth Log

Chapter 113 The pitch-black, deep stone path seemed endless. Ye Ze leaned against the wall, slowly moving forward. Impulsiveness and anger solve nothing; they only make things worse, even turning oneself into a burden, the most useless one at that. Originally, he, Chang Nian, and Li Liu had circled around the desolate Bamboo Village, finding no additional injured individuals. Just as they were about to report back, Chang Nian noticed something unusual in the sky. He looked up, only to become completely stiff, as if his neck had been immobilized. He was utterly shocked, "What the hell…" Ye Ze had no interest in mimicking him, nor the mood to see what he had seen; at that moment, he was busy rubbing the corner-missing ghost dragon jade, lost in his troubled thoughts. Li Liu, however, glanced up and let out an astonished "Ah," sounding faintly terrified. The air around them began to rotate unusually, as if everything started to soar upwards... Fly upwards?! Ye Ze snapped back to reality. Before he could look up to see what was happening in the sky, a tremendous suction force suddenly took hold. Everything spun, darkness engulfed his vision, and the next moment he was swept into the air by the wind. After a flurry of sand and stone assaulted him, he reopened his eyes only to find himself in this pitch-black place. Upon arrival, Chang Nian was still present with him. Despite mutual annoyance, in this unknown dark place, they temporarily decided to stick together. Without Li Liu's mediation, the tension between them was predictable. Ultimately, things boiled down to the simplest of reasons. Chang Nian observed Ye Ze unconsciously fiddling with the chipped jade, lost in thought, and couldn’t help but start mocking him openly and subtly. Initially, Ye Ze managed to restrain himself. Chang Nian thoroughly enjoyed his ridicules all the way until they reached a fork in the road — Chang Nian wanted to go left, Ye Ze to the right. History proves, conflicts often erupt over trivial choices like going left or right. "I said left! You parentless little beggar!" Most people from Sword Peak come from respectable backgrounds. But not Ye Ze. His origin was Dan Peak, making his status as an orphan a well-known, unspoken secret at Sword Peak. Though there were mockers, Sword Peak disciples maintained a certain decorum, refraining from openly speaking of it. Besides, as Ye Ze grew more distinguished, the few who previously dared to mock him openly began facing inexplicable "accidents." After those incidents, no one mentioned it to his face again. Yet, his social standing remained poor. Afterwards, Chang Nian vaguely sensed he might have been too harsh. But words, once spoken, couldn't be retracted, so Chang Nian simply stared at him, saying nothing further. Ye Ze, who had remained silent, slightly raised his head, his dark eyes showing a hint of grim determination. "I say, right." Chang Nian stiffened his neck, "I say, left!!" Ye Ze's response was a punch to Chang Nian's face. Knowing he was in the wrong, Chang Nian did not escalate the situation with weapons. They settled their differences with bare fists, leaving both bruised and unsightly. Unreconciled and tired of pointless bickering, they eventually went their separate ways — one left, one right. On the right, there was the sound of wind. Recollecting his thoughts, Ye Ze continued to walk forward. The faint breeze grew stronger, and somehow light began to filter through. Ye Ze paused momentarily, then continued, arriving at the source of the wind and light. In that instant, Ye Ze's eyes widened. What caught his attention wasn’t the luminous pearls embedded in the walls, nor the occasional gust of wind. It was a puppet, or perhaps a marionette, expertly pinned to the wall by a sword… The marionette wore a black cloak, its head and limbs drooped, a veil hanging from its conical hat, obscuring its face. Only the weathered, pale wooden ankles peeking from beneath the cloak revealed its puppet nature. The sword was ancient and unadorned, its blade etched with simple carvings, neither stone nor wood, and a red tassel hung from the hilt, now faded with time. The sword pierced straight through the chest, showing the executioner’s ruthlessness. It must be… a marionette. One not yet demonized. Ye Ze looked around. This was a relatively spacious area, well-ventilated, devoid of dangers yet without any exits. His gaze lingered on the marionette, pondering. A century ago, some marionettes possessed souls. Ye Ze had read a few miscellaneous records about marionettes, where some sought longevity by entrusting their souls into marionette bodies, extending their lives artificially. After a decade, marionettes demonized. Some chose self-destruction, while others were slain. This might be the self-destruction of a nearing-demonized marionette, or a chivalrous hero slain by enemies, or a villain slain by a righteous swordsman. However, a hundred years later, grievances and virtues alike are but forgotten dust. Death brings oblivion. Ye Ze thought of his untraceable parents, silent for a long time, and instinctively reached out to grasp the sword hilt. He murmured softly, "Rest in peace." Right or wrong, true or false, after hundreds of years, whether a hero or villain, human or marionette, none should be bound by the malevolence of a sword, their souls extinguished. A century has passed, and they deserve rest. At the moment he withdrew the sword! Instantly, everything around distorted, surreal and kaleidoscopic, as if the very next second would upend the world. Snow began to fall. Gently, deeply. A dazzling, profound white, a tragic, mournful scattering of jade fragments. It highlighted the crimson more vividly. A stark contrast of red and white. Tragic vividness. This was a village blanketed in snow and blood. Corpses clad in ancient clothing lay haphazardly, and occasionally, demonized marionettes wandered by. These demonized marionettes seemed oblivious to Ye Ze, passing through him as if he were invisible. Ye Ze stared blankly upward, the scarlet scenes aligning with his own harrowing memories, a moment when unfathomable anguish pierced his heart! Such pain, he scarcely noticed the sword vanish from his hand. Ye Ze closed his eyes, stumbling amidst the frigid air, the blood upon the icy landscape all the more stark. It took him a moment to gather himself, his body almost frozen stiff. His blood seemed to halt its flow. He felt on the verge of death. —"Brother may wait, but won't the souls of two hundred Ye family members resent brother’s helplessness?" "I can't..." Ye Ze shook his head, trying to regain composure, calming himself for a while before slowly standing. No matter how painful, it was futile. The burdens he carried would not fade with suffering, nor could death offer escape. He could not die… Not before cutting down that person… he could not die! He raised his hand, only then realizing the sword he’d drawn from the puppet had disappeared. The silent village, everyone perished. So much blood. Warm at first, soon cold amidst the snow. Ye Ze slowly walked out, unsure of where this hellish place was or where to head next. He only felt he could not linger here in this place any longer. Not for a minute, nor a second. In the snow, faint traces of blood and footprints meandered, some obscured by fresh snow, others still visible. Strangely compelled, Ye Ze stepped into the snow, one foot deep, one foot shallow, gradually following the blood marks, stumbling out of the village. Suddenly, a wave of coldness hit. He looked up. The world turned icy, snowstorm raging, and amid the white swirls, a figure clad in a black cloak held the familiar sword that had disappeared from his grip, standing rigid in the snow. The scene was both clear and cold. The overwhelming whiteness blurred his vision, yet the trail of blood and footprints stretched unmistakably towards the black-cloaked figure. The sword dripped with blood. Ye Ze's mind was blank, slowly approaching. Then he noticed another person facing the black figure. That person was clad wholly in white, blending into the snow, her face pale, with raven-black hair merging with the cloak of the black figure. From a distance, Ye Ze didn’t clearly see. The black-cloaked figure obscured his view, yet the figure facing him was a beautiful woman in white. Snow and wind swirled, catching their clothes dramatically. It was an indescribable beauty, an inherent soulful allure. She, like Xia Wuyin, bore cat-like eyes. "Give me the sword," the white-clothed woman spoke. The black-cloaked man obediently handed the sword to her. Ye Ze heard the black-cloaked man’s airy, fleeting words. "...Do you still believe in me?" At this, the woman in white stayed silent for a moment, before stepping forward to gently embrace the black-cloaked man. It was cold. Ye Ze thought, yet they seemed... good. Very... warm. So, it must be... belief, perhaps. But why was the white-clothed woman crying? Suddenly, there was a sharp sound of a sword being drawn. Ye Ze's eyes went wide in shock. The bloodstained sword suddenly pierced through the black-cloak's chest. The cold blade remained untouched by blood, standing stark and frigid amid the swirling snow. Ye Ze continued moving forward, not halting his steps. He saw the white-clothed woman gradually lower her beautiful, tear-stained eyes, her long eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings. She embraced the black-cloaked man, released her grip on the sword, and slowly withdrew a snow-white bone flute from the black-cloak's waist. The bone flute was pale as snow, its end wrapped in a red knot resembling blood, fluttering in the woman's pale, delicate hand as the cold wind blew. Once she possessed the flute, she stepped back slowly, further and further away. The cloaked figure stood still, seemingly gazing at her, unmoving even with the cold sword through his chest. Marionettes don’t bleed, nor do they cry. But it murmured the same question once more. "...Do you believe in me?" The wind and frost drifted far away. Ye Ze pondered. That sword through the chest was the clearest answer. Why ask again? It was so painfully sad. "I don't believe anymore." The white-clothed woman, unwilling to turn back, spoke lightly yet cruelly, her posture straight and indifferent as she held the flute, "I will never believe again." She walked farther and farther until she vanished from sight. Yet the marionette, stabbed but unmoving, stood as though frozen, continuing to gaze at her disappearing figure until the storm obscured its vision. It's said that marionettes abandoned by their masters become demonized. Because, without the master's trust, they turn and demonize as backlash. Would this marionette demonize too? Or was it already? Ye Ze recalled the bloodbath in the village and earlier when the cloaked man held the bloodstained sword. He wondered whether losing the master’s affection would cause the marionette to retaliate against the master? Would it? What might it do? Ye Ze lifted his gaze, observing the black-cloaked figure standing utterly still, like a statue. Because his family had been killed by a demonized marionette, he had researched extensively about them over the years. A sinister aura, already spreading. "...Demonized?" Ye Ze asked uncertainly. No. It wasn't. This dark aura seemed more like backlash from other marionettes. Could this be a leader marionette? Abandoned by the master, how extreme would the backlash be on those marionettes below, deprived of affection? Ye Ze was uncertain. Yet it felt cruel. As the snowstorm drifted away, the abandoned marionette, engulfed by the dark aura from subordinate marionettes’ backlash, carefully retrieved a spirit-sealed willow leaf from its pocket and gently began to play it. The tune was gentle, somewhat lighthearted at first, then slowly shifted to sadness. Increasingly sorrowful. As darkness fell, Ye Ze watched beside him, the moon setting and the sun rising, the sky fading back to twilight. The song "Homecoming" never ceased. No one knew. It was the first tune the marionette learned. Back then, that person would smile beautifully upon hearing it. Now, as night turned to dawn, no one would care anymore. Author’s note: Ahhh, I'm so sorry today's update is late! I practiced driving at the school too long, and I might not be able to add more updates today, but I will definitely make it up tomorrow!!! = = Comments from readers: (List of readers throwing grenades, mines, and other items as expressions of support or excitement.) Thank you so much to all the angels for the mines, grenades, and rocket launchers... Another torpedo too!!! I will definitely add more updates the day after tomorrow!!!