Chapter 66: The Altar and the Faceless Woman

“Aaah!”
A piercing, desperate scream echoed in everyone’s ears, as if a vengeful spirit were howling in torment.
Falling from such a towering cliff, there was no possibility other than being smashed to pieces, nothing left at all. Apart from the unlucky soul whose body was lost to the abyss, the other six corpses lay sprawled upon the high slope, their deaths equally wretched and miserable.
The experts, who had been restless and eager for action, drew sharp breaths as they witnessed this scene; the frenzy that had filled the air moments before was instantly frozen.
No one wished to be the next sacrificial lamb—for each person, life was precious and singular.
Yet this tense atmosphere lasted only a few seconds before it was shattered by the clamorous shouts of the wandering swordsmen gathered beyond the main crowd.
“Charge! Seize the spirit fruit!”
“This is our chance to make a name for ourselves—forward, everyone!”
Wei Junkun cast a sidelong glance at the noisy fighters at the rear, a cold sneer playing at the corner of his lips. “Master Gongsun, it seems these vagabonds are eager for us to kill each other off.”
Gongsun Duan, leader of the Pure Frost Sect—Iron Sword, Cold Blade, Gentleman’s Spear, Overlord’s Halberd.
As one of the Four Grandmasters of Lingnan, Gongsun Duan looked over at Wei Junkun, nodded, and spoke: “I agree with Chief Wei. Here we are, fighting to the death only to let them reap the spoils. If this spreads, where would the four great sects’ honor be left?”
“Perhaps we should join forces and send men to block them at the foot of the slope. If anyone dares come up, they die without mercy!”
“I agree.”
“I have no objections.”
The four great sects quickly reached a consensus, each dispatching part of their forces down the hill to keep the scattered warriors at bay.
Though the wandering swordsmen held the advantage in numbers, they were a motley band with no unity—scattered like loose sand. After a few attempts, when enough of their ranks had fallen to the sects’ blades, none dared advance again.
The corpses strewn at the foot of the slope had become, for these wandering fighters, a line between life and death—no one dared cross it.
On the slope, Wei Junkun and his peers watched all this unfold, each one unable to suppress a cold chuckle.
A rabble, nothing more.
“Quick, kill them all!”
Just when everyone thought the matter had reached an impasse, an ill-timed shout rang out once more.

...

Ning Xiu moved cautiously deeper into the cave, countless thoughts swirling in his mind.
This cave was likely connected to Black Wind Stronghold. Clearly, those who had “disappeared” over the past few nights had come to the same conclusion. After the destruction of Black Wind Stronghold, the treasure hidden within had yet to be found.
Thus, this cave was likely their treasure vault. Even if there was no hope of seizing the Red Immortal Fruit, finding the Black Wind hoard would make the journey worthwhile.
But for some reason, none of them ever returned.
That meant danger lurked within these depths.
Pressing close to the cold stone wall, Ning Xiu advanced step by measured step. The tunnel widened steadily, soon opening into the heart of the cavern.
“What is this...”
Suddenly, a massive altar loomed before him.
Kneeling upon the altar were countless shadowy figures, and at the sight, Ning Xiu’s pupils contracted sharply; by instinct, he reached for the Divine Sword at his back.
By the flickering light of his torch, he finally saw the truth of these figures.
Dozens of naked women knelt with their arms raised, as if performing some ritual.
Most disturbingly, Ning Xiu sensed not a trace of life from any of them.
They were corpses.
As he took in this horrific tableau, a memory surfaced—a recent wave of abductions, when Black Wind Stronghold had scoured the land for girls born in unlucky years and months.
Wu Wan’er had been a victim of that very atrocity; thinking back, if he hadn’t intervened, one of these kneeling bodies might well have been hers.
No wonder nothing was ever heard of those girls again—they had all perished here.
Ning Xiu counted carefully: ninety-eight women knelt upon the altar.
They filled the entire cavern, and he noticed that their positions formed a bizarre pattern—seen from above, it would reveal a sinister design.
Each woman’s face bore a different expression: pain, confusion, wide-eyed terror, empty calm, twisted laughter, silent grief.
He could feel the emotion in every pose, but could see none of their faces.
These ninety-eight, every one, was faceless.
At the same time, Ning Xiu finally found the corpses of the missing martial artists—they lay in the center of the altar.
The coffin that once stood there had long been forced open, now empty.

“What on earth happened here?!”
In the instant Ning Xiu was struck motionless by shock, a terrifying sword intent surged at him from behind.
“Die!” Li Tiexin sneered inwardly, his Iron Sword ringing as it leapt from its scabbard and thrust toward Ning Xiu’s back like lightning.
The speed, the force, the timing—everything about this strike was flawless. Li Tiexin was certain it would pierce Ning Xiu’s heart.
But at that moment, a cold wind howled through the cavern!
The braziers around the altar suddenly flared with wild, violent flame.
The blazing light blinded Li Tiexin in an instant. Even as he raised his arm reflexively to block an incoming gust, he realized too late that he had been driven into the midst of the faceless corpses, right onto the altar itself.
Ning Xiu now stood at the tunnel’s edge, eyes cold, watching him.
He had known someone was following him; his apparent shock had been a deliberate ploy to lure Li Tiexin in. Only, the sudden changes on the altar took even him by surprise.
This place was steeped in evil. Before his eyes, the corpses of the women began to rise, one by one.
Li Tiexin, intent on escaping the altar, found himself swarmed by the faceless women.
For a master of his caliber, such supernatural horrors were not a first. Watching the eerie scene, Li Tiexin’s face showed not a trace of panic; his Iron Sword swept out again and again.
Sword light slashed and danced—those closest fell, heads severed, yet more and more faceless women pressed in.
Ning Xiu glanced toward Li Tiexin, a look of grim satisfaction crossing his face, then turned and left without a moment’s hesitation.
There was no going back; his only choice was to forge ahead into darkness.
He was certain the cave had another exit, likely not far from where the Red Immortal Fruit was found. Otherwise, the screams of the dying would never have carried outside.
Soon, the shrieks of Li Tiexin echoed behind him.
Ning Xiu dared not pause—a hundred shifting steps carried him swiftly deeper into the cave.