Chapter 84: The Killing Game

A gigantic black eagle swept across the sky like a storm cloud, twisting and turning midair, its furious cries echoing in all directions. The Third Prince of the Eagles was seething with rage. He could not remember Nan Luo, but he did recall having captured many humans before.

“Could it be that a mighty human has come for vengeance?” he wondered, his massive wings surging with magical power as he beat them with all his might. “I’ll ignore him for now—once I return to my clan, my royal father will handle it. Why should I fear a lone human with no allies?”

Suddenly, the Third Prince sensed the human on his back growing heavier. At first, the man was as light as nothing; if he hadn’t spoken, the eagle would scarcely have noticed his presence. But gradually, it felt as though a great boulder was pressing down on him...

This wasn’t too troubling—given his immense size and power, he could barely manage to fly even with a small mountain on his back, let alone a single stone. Yet, that stone grew ever heavier, until the prince was forced to pour more and more of his strength into his wings. He tried to shake the burden off, but could not; he could only exhaust himself, his wings beating desperately.

Wherever he passed, wild, dragon-like gales tore through the air and across the mountains below, ravaging everything in their path. Clouds were shredded into countless wisps, vanishing into the distant sky...

Despite his efforts, the Third Prince’s speed slowed further and further, until at last he was nearly falling in a straight line—slowly, yes, but in stark contrast to the frenzied pounding of his wings. His vast form swelled, but he could not arrest his descent. His piercing cries sliced through the sky, reaching far and wide.

Just as his screams pierced the heavens, a true black arrow shot up from the green mountains below.

The shaft was etched with intricate patterns, marked by arcane and inexplicable runes. A single glance made one’s heart pound, as if it would be drawn into the arrow itself...

This arrow was called Soulreaper, as if it hailed from the very Underworld.

It radiated no malice, not even a hint of killing intent, and yet the very void seemed pierced by its flight. Still, a chill of murderous will stabbed into Nan Luo’s heart like a blade.

He could never forget this arrow—years ago, he had nearly died beneath it.

Nan Luo did not know Hou Yi, but he remembered clearly the man’s spotless white robe; every inch of that garment seemed stained with killing intent. His brows were like knives, his gaze as sharp as an arrow’s gleam.

The black arrow drew a long shadow through the sky, and in an instant, pierced the Third Prince’s great body...

Nan Luo leapt into the sky—not fleeing, but shooting straight upward.

In the very instant he took flight, the black arrow had already pierced the eagle’s body, without slowing in the least, and now pursued Nan Luo higher still.

The Third Prince screamed in agony. Only now did he realize what had happened. As soon as Nan Luo left his back, the eagle’s wings, still beating by habit, sent him hurtling over several mountain peaks before he crashed headlong to the ground.

Nan Luo’s figure was clear against the sky, never once vanishing into the void. His feet moved swiftly as if climbing a celestial staircase, racing the deadly black arrow behind him...

Wherever his foot touched the air, a small cloud formed, leaving behind a staircase of layered clouds. These clouds were primarily white, but threaded with streaks of red, black, blue, and green—beautiful and dazzling, yet if one reached out with spiritual sense, one would find them profoundly mysterious.

The black arrow pursued him higher and higher, piercing each cloud Nan Luo left in its wake; every cloud was instantly shredded, vanishing—but with each, the arrow’s speed slowed, until at last, at a height of millions of meters, it came to a halt. The void trembled, and the arrow fell back down.

Nan Luo stopped as the arrow’s momentum ceased. Multicolored mist shimmered in his hand as he reached into the void and caught the black arrow...

The arrow shuddered, emitting a blinding black light, but the multicolored mist in Nan Luo’s grip suppressed it until, at last, it fell silent.

Nan Luo’s face was cold as steel. Again he had been attacked by this arrow; the memory of his first, near-fatal encounter with it still sent chills through him.

In his eyes, the white-robed man stood out starkly atop the green mountain, his robe dazzlingly pure. Nan Luo hurled the arrow back at Hou Yi with all his might—this time, however, the arrow was shrouded not in black, but in a faint, shifting veil of rainbow light...

The radiance flowed like water, gentle and smooth; with each pulse, the black arrow vanished from the void, only to reappear thousands of meters ahead.

Nan Luo’s sleeves billowed as he followed close behind the arrow, each step clear and precise, keeping pace with the arrow as if the distance between them never changed.

From the moment the arrow was shot from the green mountain to the instant Nan Luo threw it back, only the blink of an eye had passed. The world was silent, without the sudden turbulence of spiritual energy—peaceful as drifting clouds, as if a leaf had slid across a tranquil lake.

Nan Luo did not know how Hou Yi had found him, or whether the archer had simply been lying in wait at the foot of Mount Buzhou, ready to kill him at any moment. In this instant, Hou Yi was like a seasoned hunter...

Hou Yi’s white robe was dazzlingly pure, free of the slightest dust. In his hand he held a black bow, bold yet elegant in its lines.

He seemed not to notice the black arrow, now veiled in multicolored light and plunging toward him at great speed. His eyes were fixed solely on Nan Luo, cold, tangible killing intent glinting within.

The black arrow drew ever closer, swifter than lightning, aimed straight at Hou Yi’s throat.

At that moment, Hou Yi’s hand shot out—as if it had always been there—grasping the arrow from mid-air. A gentle shake, and the multicolored mist vanished from the shaft like dust...

A blinding white light flashed through the void—Nan Luo’s sword had left its sheath.

In that instant, Nan Luo was preternaturally calm; even his sword seemed devoid of killing intent, as if it were illusory, blossoming silently in the night sky—beautiful, yet steeped in tragic resolve.

In Hou Yi’s eyes, Nan Luo’s figure descended from the heavens, devoid of worldly taint, so quiet as to make one’s heart tremble—yet perilous beyond compare. No one noticed that, in this moment, their gazes were startlingly alike: silent killing intent lingering between the mountains...

Nan Luo marveled at the white-robed man’s composure; having nearly been killed by this archer twice before, he well knew the bow’s power exceeded anything in close combat. Yet Hou Yi merely stood there, letting Nan Luo approach.

A sudden sense of foreboding seized Nan Luo’s heart. At that moment, a wild and domineering aura exploded from the mountains. A figure, impossibly strong, seemed to tear open the void itself—gripping two savage battle-axes, he stomped through the mountains, the earth trembling beneath his feet.

This figure, who seemed to rend the void, was none other than Xing Tian. With a furious roar, he leapt into the air; his giant axes slashed upward against the falling sword-light of Nan Luo.

The moment Xing Tian appeared, Nan Luo’s heart pounded. “This is bad—they’ve laid a trap for me.”

He had never expected the tribesman of Wu to ambush him. Previously, every encounter had devolved into direct, overwhelming combat; their strength was terrifying, but they had never stooped to ambush. In Nan Luo’s mind, the white-robed archer who had nearly killed him could only be stronger, not weaker—so why bother with a trap?

Just a moment before, Nan Luo had still been eager to truly test himself against the white-robed archer. Now his only thought was to escape.

Even as the thought formed, Nan Luo vanished into the void—like smoke and clouds dispersing, or a drop of water sinking into the sea, leaving no trace behind.

But Hou Yi moved suddenly, his actions as smooth as flowing water. In the instant Nan Luo merged with the void, Hou Yi drew his bow to a perfect arc.

“Whoosh—hiss—” The black arrow shot into the void.

“Clang—” A sound like metal striking metal rang out, followed by a violent explosion that sent ripples through the air.

Nan Luo, his green robe fluttering, sword in hand and face as cold as frost, was forced to reveal himself—his escape art broken by Hou Yi’s arrow.

“Dare to kill a clansman of mine? I’ll have your head—!” Xing Tian, brandishing his savage axes, bounded before Nan Luo. Though his body did not grow in size, there was a sense that the very earth shook beneath his step.

He raised his arm and brought an axe down, the strike quaking the void, the black blade reflecting the chill in Nan Luo’s eyes.