Chapter 346

Chapter 346: I Will Kill You

On Blue Star, nobody would blink at something as minor as eyelashes. People had done far worse without anyone making a fuss.

Third Zen was… conservative.

Maybe that was the cultivation world.

Some people didn’t care about anything and lived by their own hearts. Others treated reputation as more precious than life.

But Su Qing’s final words were right about one thing: this would have to be settled.

His material requirement was simple and infuriating—obtain the eyelashes of the next woman he met. He had to get them.

Trouble.

He shook his head and checked his personal terminal. Someone had contacted him earlier.

Nian Wei?

Why would she reach out first?

He sent a reply.

“What is it?”

Within the Third Zen, personal terminals could connect across the entire region.

“I’m just letting you know,” Nian Wei said. “If you want to gain a mountain range on Zen Mountain, there’s a shortcut—Slaughter Cliff.”

Ting Chen had already left the Star Fusion Center. Nian Wei didn’t mention her, wary of being monitored. The Star Vault Vista wasn’t as secretive as it used to be.

“Slaughter Cliff?” Wang Jie asked. “That’s a training ground on Zen Mountain, right? I heard that if you cross it, you can enter the Zen Hall.”

“That’s right. Slaughter Cliff has four layers of steps. Pass all four, and you’ve effectively crossed Zen Mountain and entered the Zen Hall.”

Nian Wei’s tone stayed even. “But you don’t have to clear all four. Clear three, and you can control a mountain range. The size of the range depends on your performance on Slaughter Cliff.”

Wang Jie understood immediately. “Thanks.”

He paused, then added, “I want information on Su Qing.”

“You want to buy information?” Nian Wei replied at once. “Unfortunately, I’m not in charge of information.”

Wang Jie ended the call without another word.

Nian Wei was the Star Vault Vista’s intelligence lead in the Third Zen. There was no way she “wasn’t in charge.”

Which meant their conversation might be monitored.

Either he’d been careless, or the Third Zen truly kept a tight grip on communications. Either way, if he wanted details, he’d need to meet Nian Wei in person.

For now…

He would go to Slaughter Cliff.

If Su Qing could show up at his door whenever she pleased, someone else could too. He didn’t feel safe cultivating in his quarters anymore.

And there was another problem: there were no stars he could use here to train Undying Body.

He needed a mountain range.

The mountain ranges of Zen Mountain held stars that suited his method perfectly.

Hardly anyone controlled a mountain range, and since Slaughter Cliff was a known shortcut, plenty of people would be competing for it.

Clearing three layers wouldn’t be easy.

He tried to research the place at the Scripture Pavilion, but discovered the Third Zen forbade anyone from discussing the trials of Slaughter Cliff. Violators would be expelled from the Third Zen directly.

No wonder Nian Wei had kept her explanation vague.

He’d have to clear it blind.

Some time later, Wang Jie arrived at Slaughter Cliff.

It sat at the very peak of Zen Mountain.

He’d always assumed the Second Zen’s residence would be the highest point. Instead, it was Slaughter Cliff.

So when people said that passing Slaughter Cliff was the same as crossing Zen Mountain, they meant it literally.

He looked into the distance.

The four layers of steps seemed wide and open, almost transparent—until void rippled once, and he understood. Whatever happened inside couldn’t be seen from the outside.

The surroundings were empty. No one lingered nearby.

Wang Jie walked up and stepped in.

At first, nothing seemed different. He turned back and could still see the outside world.

He looked around. The first layer looked utterly ordinary.

Then the world went black.

A single beam of light dropped from above, barely a meter wide—just enough to illuminate a single person.

And under that light, someone walked out.

Wang Jie’s expression tightened.

Lu Bu Qi.

The figure wore Lu Bu Qi’s face. He glanced at Wang Jie, let out a sharp laugh, and charged.

But those eyes… they were wrong. The Lu Bu Qi Wang Jie had met in that border town had never looked like this.

What was going on?

Could Slaughter Cliff really drag Lu Bu Qi here?

No. Even if Lu Bu Qi were present, he would never attack Wang Jie.

The Lu Bu Qi before him rushed in and slammed a palm down toward Wang Jie’s forehead. Murder flooded his gaze. At the same time, a low chant filled Wang Jie’s ears:

“Kill… kill… kill…”

It wasn’t one voice. It was a swarm—countless whispers, repeating the same word, drilling into his mind like a curse.

Wang Jie dodged the palm and stared at him.

Why?

Even if Lu Bu Qi hated him, a normal man’s attack would be meaningless. It couldn’t hurt him.

The Lu Bu Qi figure kept chasing. The chorus of “kill” grew louder, denser, until it drowned out thought. It became a hammering roar against Wang Jie’s skull, a relentless pressure that made his temples throb.

Wang Jie grabbed him, trying to restrain him.

The figure twisted violently—and snapped his own arm with brute force. He lunged again like a mad beast.

Wang Jie froze for a fraction of a second.

Blood ran down that broken limb. The face was still Lu Bu Qi’s, but the thing wearing it wasn’t human.

Wang Jie pinned the figure’s shoulder and focused. Something was wrong.

There was no qi in his body.

How could that be?

Lu Bu Qi was only a mortal, but years of fighting at the border should have left him with some qi—gathered in his right arm from countless battles.

This thing had none.

A living person couldn’t have no qi at all.

The chanting intensified.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Wang Jie’s expression cooled. He raised his palm and shattered the figure’s heart meridian in one blow.

The false Lu Bu Qi crumpled.

Before Wang Jie could even look down, another beam of light appeared.

And another Lu Bu Qi stepped out.

Wang Jie’s eyes widened.

Another one?

So the first had been fake. But why Lu Bu Qi?

Because of him.

Wang Jie finally understood. He was wearing Lu Bu Qi’s appearance. Slaughter Cliff was conjuring what it perceived as “him,” forcing him to face and kill “himself.”

And that endless “kill” was the true trial. The first layer was a test of whether you could slaughter yourself over and over again.

He thought of the Third Zen’s nature—its devotion to obsession, its ruthless affirmation of the self.

Yes. They would create something like this.

The Lu Bu Qi under the light charged again.

Wang Jie killed him without hesitation.

Another appeared. And another.

Kill one, kill a hundred—it was all killing. Fine. Let’s see how many you can throw at me.

Wang Jie shaped lockforce into a blade and brought One Blade down.

At the Full-Star Tournament, he’d fought with a sword. Here, on Zen Mountain, he would use a blade. He needed the separation—Lu Bu Qi was Lu Bu Qi; Wang Jie was Wang Jie.

And the Third Zen favored blades anyway.

Each One Blade took a Lu Bu Qi’s life.

They came fast. The moment one died, another appeared. They emerged from all directions, one at a time, each with a different expression—rage, grief, mockery, emptiness—but none could close the distance before the blade fell.

Time blurred.

Wang Jie lifted his arm, struck, and killed. Over and over, like a machine.

The “kill” in his ears never stopped. Lu Bu Qi’s face flashed again and again. Blood pooled beneath his feet, spreading until it became a lake, thick with stench.

How long could a person endure killing someone with their own face?

Wang Jie didn’t know.

That was the real cruelty of the first layer.

If you truly had to kill yourself, and keep killing yourself, breathing blood and listening to that hypnotic chant—if you saw your own face reflected in the red water… would you finally decide to end it for real?

That was Slaughter Cliff.

Only, Wang Jie wasn’t wearing his own face.

This trial couldn’t pierce him the way it would pierce others.

The lake of blood rose past his shoes. Even the beam of light looked stained red.

Then, with another One Blade—

The light vanished.

The lake split open, parting into a narrow path that led to the second layer.

He had passed.

Ten thousand?

Had he just killed ten thousand Lu Bu Qi?

Kill ten thousand versions of yourself to clear the first layer.

Wang Jie glanced down. The parted lake was already beginning to close again. It seemed you could keep going, pushing for a higher score.

He didn’t need that.

Slaughter Cliff results were watched by the Third Zen’s upper ranks. The last thing he wanted was attention.

He stepped onto the second layer immediately.

As he did, he looked back.

On the ground of the first layer, beneath where the lake had been, three words were carved: Life-Reflecting Mirror.

He looked down at the second layer. Three more words, half-buried beneath dust: No-Blade Bridge.

Behind him, the first layer returned to normal. The darkness vanished. The blood lake vanished.

Ahead, a bridge appeared, leading toward the third layer.

On the bridge stood one person.

Lu Bu Qi again.

Wang Jie exhaled through his nose and walked forward.

The Lu Bu Qi on the bridge watched him with a cold, empty stare. Then he spoke.

“I will kill you.”

Wang Jie stopped a few steps away. “And?”

“If you are killed, you pass.”

That was all. He held his position and kept staring.

Wang Jie narrowed his eyes.

Be killed to pass?

What kind of rule was that? If you died, what good was “passing” supposed to be?

He glanced at the bridge.

No-Blade Bridge.

No blade. No edge.

So was he truly meant to stand there and be cut down?

As if to answer, the edges of the bridge began to blur, the void eating it away from the sides. The longer he waited, the faster the blur spread.

Wang Jie stepped onto the bridge.

The Lu Bu Qi figure retreated as he advanced, keeping the exact same distance between them. His gaze never left Wang Jie’s face.

A blade rose slowly in his hand—identical to the one Wang Jie had used to slaughter ten thousand “selves.”

Below their feet, the red stain of the first layer had followed. It painted the bridge, painted the air, painted Lu Bu Qi’s face like a mask.

The blur along the edges quickened.

Wang Jie’s jaw tightened as he walked forward.

Lu Bu Qi continued backing up, eyes locked on him, the blade lifting higher.

Wang Jie’s heart climbed into his throat.

The killing intent was suffocating—clearer than breath. Death came in waves, cold and absolute, as if the blood beneath him had soaked into his skin.

Those eyes looked at him like a pit with no bottom.

The blade’s chill drew closer.

Every instinct screamed at him to move.

He curled his fingers into a fist, ready to strike. This thing wasn’t his match. One palm would shove it aside, and the pressure would break like glass.

He could strike.

He could end it.

But reason clamped down hard.

Don’t move. If you resist, you fail. This is No-Blade Bridge.

Yet if he didn’t resist, wouldn’t he die?

Maybe that was the point.

No—the point was being killed.

Because the one meant to kill him was Lu Bu Qi.

The “self” he had just slaughtered ten thousand times.