Chapter 71: Overwhelmed by the Intoxication of Mortal Life
Ji Huo gazed at the retreating figure, silent for a long while, only withdrawing his gaze when the person finally vanished at the end of the path. He took out the short rod from his robe and examined it.
The rod was utterly black, absorbing all light even under the sun, its material unknown. Both ends were neatly cut; if the Demon Dragon Spear had been split into three parts, this would be the middle segment. Unlike when it was in Shi Ya’s hands—where it constantly emitted black smoke—Ji Huo had been holding it for quite some time, yet the weapon fragment showed no reaction. He felt no discomfort, no demonic energy seeping into his body, nor any surge of invincibility or bloodlust.
It was as if he were holding a perfectly ordinary stick.
He gripped the weapon, infused it with his inner strength, and swung it with force. A massive shadow of the rod appeared, smashing into the ground and carving an extremely long trench.
“This...?”
Ji Huo frowned. He felt no power from wielding the rod; in fact, it seemed less useful than a simple chopstick.
So why had Shi Ya been able to use it so well?
Ji Huo tried to store the rod in his spatial pouch, but a notification told him he lacked permission.
“Divine weapons have spirits—am I not recognized?” Ji Huo muttered to himself. He then held the rod horizontally and said calmly, “Since you’re useless, keeping you around is just a future threat.”
He extended his right hand, pressed his index and middle fingers together, and tapped lightly on the rod.
“Clang!”
A crisp sound rang out, echoing far into the night.
“Clang, clang, clang!” Ji Huo tapped several more times, each strike clearer and sharper than the last.
Waves of air rippled from the spot he struck. The rod began to tremble, at first subtly, but as the blows intensified, the trembling grew uncontrollable.
“Clang!”
He struck it hard once again! The ground beneath his feet erupted in a shockwave, and thunder suddenly rumbled in the sky above.
“Still not broken? Black and tough—impressive!”
Ji Huo rubbed his slightly aching fingers and stopped striking; the rod ceased trembling and returned to stillness.
Next, Ji Huo stabbed the rod upright into the ground and retreated a few paces.
The rod: “???”
“Demonic energy—the most malevolent force under heaven.” Ji Huo grinned. “If that’s the case, I’ll just call down the purest, most righteous thunder and strike you a few times.”
No sooner had he spoken than the rod shuddered, then erupted in billows of black smoke. With a sharp whistle, it shot into the air and darted off into the distance.
By the time Ji Huo reacted, it was already gone.
“Ran off that easily?” Ji Huo pursed his lips, feeling bored.
...
Traversing the wilds, Xia Ningshang suddenly turned, reached out, and caught the pitch-black rod as it fell into her hand.
“You’re back~” she said cheerfully, stroking the rod, though an expression of surprise briefly crossed her face before she burst out laughing.
“He tried to strike you with lightning? Honestly, that’s exactly the sort of thing he’d do.”
“There, there, don’t feel wronged~”
“He’s not so bad, really. Why didn’t you accept him?”
“Hahaha! Don’t be mad, I’m just teasing you. I’d never give you up.”
...
As the sun rose again, another day began.
Ji Huo took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the sunlight.
“Boss.”
Qian Wu approached, face pale—likely from spending the night before the graves.
“Do you need some time to rest?” Ji Huo asked.
“No need,” Qian Wu replied calmly.
Ji Huo looked into his eyes. Qian Wu had regained his usual composure, but something different lingered there—a new emotion that gave his presence a more subdued, restrained air.
A broken heart really does make a man mature three to five years overnight... Ji Huo thought with a sigh. He smiled. “Good, because I have something I need you to do.”
He turned to look back the way they came. “Qian Fifteen and the others are waiting at a base on this side, along with fifty Di Sha cultists. Take them, cross Zhao, and go to the Dragon Kingdom to investigate someone for me.”
“Who?”
“Xia Ningshang,” Ji Huo replied evenly.
Qian Wu was taken aback, surprise flickering in his eyes, but he asked nothing more and simply replied with deference, “Understood!”
Ji Huo explained, “This woman’s origins are unclear, her identity suspicious, and she knows how to control the demon weapon. I even suspect her approach was deliberate. With the recent chaos in the martial world, I suspect she’s behind it all.”
“Go to the Dragon Kingdom and see which major family might have such a person. If you have no leads, ask around about someone called the Great Witch. That arrogant title should be well known in the Dragon Kingdom.”
“With Zhao in the way, it’s hard for our people to get through, so you’ll need to lead the team yourself. If you encounter resistance, let the Di Sha group handle it.”
Qian Wu took a deep breath and said earnestly, “Boss, I will bring back the information you need.”
Ji Huo patted his shoulder with a smile. “Your safety comes first. I don’t need you to bring back vital intel; establishing a base is good enough. If you sense any trouble, withdraw immediately.”
A flash of coldness appeared in his eyes. “I’ll give you five months. If you’re not back by then, I’ll come for you myself.”
After Qian Wu left, Ji Huo stood alone, hands clasped behind his back, gazing up at the drifting clouds in the sky.
Within his line of sight stretched scorched forests and barren earth.
His gaze slowly shifted until it landed on a solitary grave by the Nine-Bend Gorge and the gorge itself, now cleaved down by half.
A surge of heroic passion welled up in his chest. He reached into his robe and drew out a porcelain wine bottle, white as jade.
He uncorked it, lifted his head, and gulped down the fiery liquor.
The spirit seared his throat, swirling into a blaze in his chest.
“Once you enter the world of warriors, the years rush by, and all there is to do is drink away the sorrows of life! Hahahaha! Splendid! Splendid!”
His laughter echoed through the gorge, reverberating far and wide.
Ji Huo hurled the wine bottle to the ground, shattering it into pieces, and strode away, laughing heartily.
A gentle breeze stirred, and before the newly raised grave, wildflowers that had somehow taken root swayed softly.