Chapter 93: Consuming Mist and Dew
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
The dark desert was shrouded in dense, surging night fog.
Qin Ming fought with everything he had, unleashing his strongest strike. His blade cut through the air, brilliant and fierce like the burning sun. Blood splattered, and amidst the crimson droplets, a crystalline finger fell to the ground.
“Ahhh…” A woman’s scream pierced the night, filled with agony. The faint golden glow flowing over her body dimmed noticeably. She stumbled backward, her veil trembling violently, hinting at the depth of her pain.
Qin Ming pressed forward, treading across the yellow sands like a breeze. With his blade, white as pure jade, he swung again toward the veiled woman. His youthful face, ordinarily delicate and calm, was now sharp and resolute, his bright eyes shining like stars. His black hair streamed behind him as he pushed Flying on Grass to its limits, making it seem as though he was gliding above the sand.
The veiled woman’s eyes burned with shock, shame, and fury. This boy, who in her view wasn’t even qualified to serve as a Golden Armor Protector, had grievously injured her. Four of her slender fingers were severed, leaving only a lonely thumb, smeared with blood.
Adding to her humiliation, a deep wound ran across her torso. The blade had pierced her chest and abdomen, and as she retreated, blood spilled onto the sand, leaving a trail behind her. This was the most serious injury she had ever suffered in her life.
But the worst part was the boy himself. He charged forward with the ferocity of a spirit tiger, silent but relentless. His speed was terrifying, leaving her no time to recover.
She gritted her teeth, a light glowing from her brow as a vivid peach blossom bloomed in front of her, attempting to block his assault.
The crimson blossom radiated a remarkable power, yet it was no match for Qin Ming’s blade. The white steel shattered the flower into pieces as its edge brushed past her. Her black robe tore, parts of her inner armor shattered, and she narrowly avoided another wound.
The veiled woman’s frustration mounted. How could this boy, who once roamed remote lands wielding a bloodstained hammer, possess such a remarkable white jade alloy blade? She could tell this was no ordinary weapon—its flawless, pure jade iron structure had no impurities.
Summoning her strength, she opened her mouth, releasing a dazzling rain of light. It shot forward like a storm of flying knives toward Qin Ming, who was closing in like a breeze and lightning combined.
Qin Ming responded by pushing his Celestial Light Force to its peak. His body glowed, and his blade trembled in his hands, unleashing wave after wave of radiant, white energy. The layers of blade light surged forward like crashing waves, overwhelming and furious, battering against the oncoming rain of light.
The veiled woman’s shock deepened. How could this boy’s Celestial Light Force be so overpowering? His strikes obliterated her golden rain of light as if it were mere paper set aflame.
Her heart trembled. This boy could not be some wild, untamed talent from a distant land. In her understanding, only a handful of ancient traditions had mastery over such potent Celestial Light Force, and they would never appear here.
As the night fog churned, Qin Ming advanced wordlessly, his blade flashing brilliantly again and again. His demeanor carried the poise of a young grandmaster, so much so that the veiled woman found her own focus faltering.
Another strike landed with a muffled sound. His blade grazed her shoulder, slicing through her black robe and piercing the fine golden armor beneath as if it were paper. Blood dripped from the wound, and pain shot through her arm.
From where she stood, Qin Ming’s radiance seemed almost sacred. His movements were precise, his expression confident, and his entire being seemed to glow. If he hadn’t been relentlessly attacking, she might have admired his elegance from afar. But now, her fury and frustration only grew.
The veiled woman seized a brief moment to catch her breath. Her brow flared like rising flames, emitting a blinding light.
This was her spiritual energy manifesting. She pushed it to the limit, disregarding the cost to her vitality. Two objects floated from her body in response.
A small black shield, scorched as if it had been through fire, hovered before her and intercepted Qin Ming’s next strike.
A deep, ominous sound echoed as his blade left a terrifying mark on the shield.
This was no ordinary shield—it was a treasured artifact gifted by her elders. And yet, it was already damaged after its first use!
Her heart ached. This shield was meant to grow alongside her, a bond between them.
Beside her, a black spear as long as a chopstick floated into the air. Like the shield, it bore scorch marks, its charred surface emanating faint golden light. It hovered menacingly, aimed at the radiant youth before her.
Seeing the veiled woman struggling to wield these two weapons, Qin Ming halted his advance. He stepped back swiftly, retreating several meters before standing still. Now, it was his turn to exude calm confidence.
He noticed how much effort it cost her to control the two damaged artifacts. Most importantly, her wounds were still bleeding. Time was on his side.
From the moment he had unleashed his strongest blade strike to the relentless follow-up attacks, only two breaths had passed.
The battles unfolded in an instant, each confrontation so swift that life and death were decided in a single heartbeat.
Qin Ming, having undergone four awakenings, had significantly heightened perception. Even in the pitch-black expanse of the dark desert, he could make out his surroundings within a certain range.
A veiled woman had been gravely injured by an awakened youth. To her, this was the greatest humiliation she had ever suffered. She viewed her peers on the path of awakening as nothing more than guards placed for her convenience. Yet, she had been dealt a crushing defeat by one of them.
The pain of her injuries was intense, but the blow to her pride was even worse. As a woman, she cared deeply about her image. And now, four of her fingers had been severed.
“This is the darkest, most shameful day of my life!” she snarled through clenched teeth. The wound on her chest and abdomen squirmed, faintly glowing as it temporarily closed. Her shoulder and lower body were soaked in blood, staining her robes a deep red.
Qin Ming understood her disdain. She looked down on those walking the awakening path. Calmly, he said, “Arrogant, just a clay chicken.”
Normally, Qin Ming wouldn’t stoop to insults, but since she had shown no courtesy, he saw no reason to hold back.
“You—” The woman’s face twisted in rage. Her veil slipped off, revealing a beautiful yet ashen complexion. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen or seventeen, but the insult “clay chicken” struck a nerve. Pointing at Qin Ming, she shouted, “I’ll make you understand the difference between mortals and the divine right now!”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Qin Ming asked, his gaze falling on her outstretched hand.
Following his eyes, the woman saw her hand, with four severed fingers bandaged in her golden mist. Only her thumb remained intact, making it look as if she were giving him a thumbs-up.
Humiliated further, she couldn’t hold back a curse. Though she prided herself on being above worldly matters, she couldn’t let this slide—it felt like her chest might explode from the indignity.
Qin Ming’s eyes were steady. He knew her composure was fractured, but she was also deliberately stalling for time. The golden mist she manipulated was capable of healing her wounds.
More importantly, there was a mysterious golden-armored guardian heading toward the desert. If it arrived, the situation would drastically change.
“Your fingers haven’t been on the ground for long; they might still be reattached. Do you not want them?” Qin Ming asked, leaping more than ten meters toward the severed fingers.
The veiled woman panicked. She had lured this young man away to deal with him before retrieving her fingers. Who would have thought this seemingly gentle boy would use them as leverage?
Despite her youth, she cared deeply about her body’s completeness. For her, the loss of her fingers was akin to losing her life. Her eyes reddened as she charged after him.
With a flash of his blade, Qin Ming flicked one of her severed fingers—now stained with blood and yellow sand—into the air.
“Put that down!” she roared, her face contorted in fury. She summoned a charred black shield and a black spear, as long as a chopstick, hurling them at him with all her might.
“Alright,” Qin Ming said coolly, tossing the finger onto the sand unharmed before swinging his blade toward her.
There was no need for any dramatic action. The woman was already off balance. Qin Ming had full control over the battlefield, and that was all he needed.
Wielding his white jade alloy blade, Qin Ming cleaved through her golden mist, striking her black shield multiple times until—crack!—it shattered.
The woman stared in horror. The shield had been a treasured artifact bestowed by her sect. Its destruction was partly due to the blade’s unique properties, but more so because of Qin Ming’s celestial light force. His attacks, empowered by this mysterious energy, posed a dire threat. Even her mental energy, which had begun manifesting, was torn apart.
From the center of her brow, strands of golden mist like lotus flowers emerged, coiling around her black spear to strike at Qin Ming again.
Their weapons clashed repeatedly. The charred black spear dulled, and the golden threads unraveled.
“Clang!” Qin Ming’s blade severed the spear, its fragments scattering on the ground, rendering it useless.
“A weapon forged from spirit roots bathed in celestial light… destroyed,” she muttered, pale and retreating step by step. She knew she had lost completely.
She was too slow to dodge. Qin Ming’s blade struck her left arm, severing it. The limb fell to the sandy ground, blood pooling around it.
She laughed bitterly, understanding her fate was sealed. “To think I, who consume mist and dew, would die here at the hands of someone like you…”
The veiled woman had awakened her spiritual light multiple times in the Mind Retreat realm and was nearing the next great stage. She had not fallen to the hands of the Secret Sect but now faced death at the hands of an awakened youth. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
In terms of awakenings, she had far surpassed Qin Ming, who had only awakened four times.
At this moment, celestial light coursed through Qin Ming’s body. His youthful vigor was radiant, every strand of his hair and even the smallest beads of sweat shimmering with light.
“And yet you, who still eat grains, dare claim there’s a gulf between mortals and the divine?” he said, swinging his blade without hesitation.
The woman fought back with everything she had, golden lotus flowers burning brightly as they flew from her brow.
But even this manifestation of mental power couldn’t withstand Qin Ming’s celestial light-infused strike. The lotus shattered, and the tip of his blade grazed her forehead, splitting it open. Blood splattered everywhere.
She collapsed to the ground, her face pale as snow, her forehead fractured. Trembling, she whispered, “I don’t want to die. Could you…?”
“Who sent you?” Qin Ming asked, his voice steady.
The woman fell silent.
“Then it’s time for you to go,” he said. His blade flashed, and her head fell, blood pouring onto the sand.
In the eerie stillness of the desert, a talking sparrow poked its head out of the night fog. “Qin Ming… you’re like a god among men. You could probably slay an immortal. Suddenly, I feel like we can do this!” It chirped softly. “There’s still that golden-armored guardian though. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?”