Death Scripture

Long Qinying was approaching seventy years old. Among the males in the Great Snowmountain, his longevity was considered rare already. His luck, however, was not quite as good: the body of his last grandson was placed in front of him, entailing that the chief of the Luoshen tribe would not have a successor.

He reached a hand out to close the eyes of his grandson before he stood up and used the same hand to grasp a long and broad greatsword. His hand was covered in wrinkles and its joints were showing, resembling a withered branch. Only those people who had touched or felt it before knew that it was still very powerful.

He walked outdoors from the low and dingy house. This was the coldest season of the year in the Great Snowmountain, such that the breath he exhaled would turn into ice. However, he felt dry and hot all over his body, and almost wanted to strip off his clothes and roll in the snow like he did when he was young.

Sunlight bounced off the snowy surface and caused him to squint his eyes. Inhaling a deep breath of the piercingly cold fresh air, he doubted that he could live more than a day without snow. He swept a glance through the faces of his few remaining tribesmen. He not only recognized every one of them, but also remembered their names and even the years which they were born in.

Standing sparsely in the snow were two hundred or so people, of which more than half were women and elderly people, less than fifty were young people who could lift a heavy sword, and only a handful were children.

This was the story of the decline of Luoshen Peak, which was the head of the Great Snowmountain's five peaks. Even if Long Qinying's final grandson was still alive and there were not groups of enemies shutting them in, they would nonetheless eventually perish in the desolate and barren valleys, with frozen blood vessels and no descendants to succeed their bloodline.

Long Qinying raised his heavy sword high and wanted to say a few sentences to boost the tribe's morale, but when he saw the expressions of silent perseverance in the eyes of his tribesmen, he knew there was no need to waste his breath. The sons of the Great Snowmountain were never good at words and innately only knew how to fight. Even if only one of them was left, he would fight to the death without needing to be motivated by pleasant words or promises of wealth.

"Weng..." Long Qinying raised his head and emitted from his chest a heavy humming noise which was continuous and increasingly high-pitched.

Starting with the able-bodied males and subsequently the women and the elderly, everyone mimicked the old chief by raising their heads and emitting the same noise. The Roar of the Benevolent and Forgiving Dragon reverberated across the valleys and lingered ceaselessly.

An even more powerful medley of noises was soon heard, and it quickly drowned out the chanting of the people of Luoshen Peak. It was made up of the roars of an uncountable number of beasts, and it sounded as if a powerful and large army was drawing near.

Long Qinying placed his heavy sword down and waved toward the crowd. Five children between the ages of six and ten, comprising of three boys and two girls, walked up to the old chief, each of them carrying a sword which was almost as long as their bodies. Their determined expressions were sufficient proof that they were of pure Luoshen blood.

Several hundreds of years ago, it was also five people who first entered the Great Snowmountain and established the Luoshen ancestry. Their children and grandchildren would fill up every livable valley.

"Anyone can die, but not them." Long Qinying declared. This was an order as well as a wish and a prayer.

The roars from outside the valleys gradually subsided. A large group of swordsmen, whose bodies were without exception wrapped in hide, slowly approached the peak. Placed flat on their shoulders were huge heavy swords which gleamed under the sunlight. Like a giant moving iceberg, they swooped in to kill the remaining tribesmen of Luoshen Peak.

Long Qinyang cast off the fur cape he was wearing and led the charge toward the enemies. Behind him were fifty or so primary swordsmen, while further back were elders who could still lift a heavy sword. Though the elders' swords were already ridden with rust, they longed for the stain of fresh blood all the same. The women held short swords which were relatively much lighter. These short swords had been used to bleed the necks of the last tamed animals in Luoshen Peak, and were certainly capable of puncturing holes in the bodies of the present enemies as well.

The five children remained at the very back. Although they wished to charge toward the front, they were held back by the adults and could only look down from the mountain slope anxiously.

The enemy was comprised of three to four hundred swordsmen, every one of them a physically robust male. Their leader was a middle-aged man of more than forty years old who wore a black cloak made from pieces of hide. He had a large and powerful jaw and eyes which, like those of the residents of the Great Snowmountain, were always squinting. The heavy sword in his hand seemed to be as light as a feather.

The two groups of people halted their footsteps approximately fifty steps away from each other, with the Luoshen tribe on slightly higher terrain.

After so many years, the warfare among the tribes of the Great Snowmountain's five peaks was finally coming to an end. As the victor, the chief of Danduo Peak, Long Xiaoshi, had plenty to say. "Lay down your swords, and your women and children under ten years old shall be allowed to live."

"Live on as slaves of Danduo Peak?" Long Qinying preferred to commence the fighting immediately, but in the Great Snowmountain, there were a few rules which needed to be observed at all times.

"The descendants of the Five Dragons will only become swordsmen, and never slaves."

"Is that so? Were those missing children carried away by wild beasts?"

"Regardless of who carried them away, it was definitely not me."

Long Qinying turned his head back toward his silent tribesmen. He did not understand the point of this nonsensical exchange of words. Raising his heavy sword with both hands, he thereby declared war. "Long Qinying of Luoshen Peak seeks battle."

The old man took calm and steady steps toward the space between the two groups of swordsmen. His spirits instantly invigorated and the sword he was holding became much lighter.

Long Xiaoshi snorted grimly. He could have ordered his men to swarm upon the remaining strength of Luoshen Peak and spare no one, but instead, he decided to play by the rules so as to prove a point to those people who still doubted that he was worthy of being the overlord of the five peaks.

He would not enter the battlefield himself. After all, killing a moribund old man would bring him no honor whatsoever.

A twenty-something-year-old swordsman led the attack. He was so eager to gain the honor of killing the Luoshen tribe chief to the extent that nothing else mattered to him. If anyone reminded him to be careful, he would rage and turn hostile at that person. To him, the most embarrassing thing was to be unable to finish off a nearly seventy-year-old man within ten strokes.

"I am Danduo..."

"Come at me!"

The entire valley seemed to tremor when the old man bawled. The young swordsman's words abruptly ceased, and his face reddened involuntarily. Making a low groan, he charged forth with his sword in hand.

Long Qinying counted the opponent's steps, and when the time was about right, he took a powerful stride forward and sprang high into the air on his second stride. His heavy sword preempted his opponent's weapon and swung towards the young swordsman with such brutality that nobody could believe it was being exerted by a moribund old man.

The young swordsman parried the first blow, albeit his legs sank deeply into the snow in doing so. His body was still shaking when the second strike from the old man came swiftly at him. He parried once more, but this time fell on his bottom. Refusing to give up, he gnashed his teeth and held on tightly to his heavy sword with both hands.

Hot blood was flowing rapidly beneath Long Qinying's loose skin, and his heart felt like it was bursting out of him.

On his third stroke, he cleaved his opponent's sword and one side of his opponent's body. Red blood rapidly spread all over the white snow, resembling a bright flower in this drab valley.

His hot blood cooled down quicker than expected, such that he suddenly had difficulty even lifting up his heavy sword. But he could not back down or admit defeat, for behind him were every remaining tribesman of Luoshen Peak. He had to persist on even if he could only protect them for a little while longer.

He raised his heavy sword in the air once again. A trail of blood was meandering down the icy smooth blade.

Long Xiaoshi's face darkened. Realizing that the old man was as persistent as before, he knew that he could not send his tribesmen one by one to their deaths henceforth. He thus turned his head and took a look at the guest beside him.

The guest nodded his head and took off his thick and heavy cape. He then pulled a short sword out from his waist area and walked towards the old swordsman standing in the middle of the battlefield.

He did not waste any time on self-introductions, and duly sped up and charged toward Long Qinying, who was already bracing himself. The latter could tell with one look that this person was not a son of the Great Snowmountain and seemed to be an expert.

When there was nearly ten steps between the two swordsmen, and their swords were on the verge of meeting, a snowball suddenly flew diagonally toward the guest.

The guest halted his footsteps at once and used his weapon to deflect the snowball. Changing countenance, he asked, "Has Luoshen Peak also learned to sneak attack?"

Long Qinying was as surprised as his opponent. He was outraged at the accusation and was about to refute it, but a voice from the mountain slope on the left preceded his. "Sneak attacks are the forte of Golden Roc Fort, and aren't easy for others to learn."

A young man who was not yet twenty years old appeared. He was dressed in all-white and had been hiding in the snow without being discovered all this time. His face was just as white, and at his waist were a saber and a sword. None of the swordsmen of the Great Snowmountain knew who he was.

"A Golden Roc killer!" someone cried out in alarm after recognizing that one of the weapons was a saber.

Both swordsmen who were on the verge of a showdown howled at the same time. No matter how deep their mutual enmity was, it could not compare to their shared abhorrence for the Golden Roc Fort. It was none other than that unscrupulous and dishonorable organization of killers which had blocked the way out of the Great Snowmountain, and abducted innocent children from the tribes every year.

While the strife among the tribes of the Great Snowmountain's five peaks went on year after year ceaselessly, each tribe's slogan for peace was to unite in the fight against Golden Roc Fort.

"My name is Yang Huan. I'm a defector from Golden Roc Fort. It's this man who's a real Golden Roc killer." The youth only explained himself after the howls from both swordsmen had completely stopped.

Few people had ever heard the name "Yang Huan", but many had heard about the "defector from Golden Roc Fort." The traceless disappearance of two young killers in full view had become a terrible humiliation of the Supreme King, and the story had spread throughout the entire Western Region.

"Haha." The sword-wielding guest laughed disdainfully. "If you can call me a Golden Roc killer, I can just as easily call you a spy. You really think just based on the one line that you can prove that Danduo Peak is colluding with a foreign enemy?"

The guest had deftly shifted the youth's accusation towards the chief of Danduo Peak, Long Xiaoshi, who was standing behind him.

The youth was not here for a verbal dispute. Pulling the sword out from beneath his waist, he leaped like the most agile of deers toward the guest.

Regardless of which tribe they were from, nobody from the Great Snowmountain would intervene in this fair contest. Long Qinying even took a few steps back to give up the battlefield.

The guest bent his legs slightly and waited for the perfect time for a sudden leap toward the rear of his opponent.

The youth reached near to the guest within a few hops and swept past him like a gust of wind. However, as if struck by fear on the spot, the youth ran away without appearing to have exchanged blows. Only when he was a dozen steps away did he stop and turn back to face the now-motionless guest.

"There's a Golden Roc Fort waist token on his body. This is the item they use to recognize each other." The youth sheathed his sword, implying that the fight was already over.

Only a few people, including Long Qinying, had seen through the youth's swordmanship. The old man was the closest person to the body and so he walked over to it. It collapsed on the snow the moment his hand made contact. He bent down and fumbled for a while before fishing out a faint yellow oval-shaped jade token which he subsequently raised up high to show to everyone.

Every swordsman of the Great Snowmountain recognized the Golden Roc Fort waist token.

Nobody trusted the white-clothed youth who had appeared from nowhere. On the other hand, no matter whether they were friend or foe, everyone believed the chief of the Luoshen tribe, Long Qinying.

Even Long Xiaoshi did not dare to accuse the old swordsman of fraudulence. Instead, he pointed the finger at the youth. "You sure have quick hands. It's truly in line with Golden Roc Fort's practices to plant a waist token on someone so as to frame and alienate him."

"Why, you also know that Golden Roc Fort is good at driving a wedge between people." The youth raised his voice so that everyone in the valley could hear him. "Aren't you ashamed that the men of the Great Snowmountain only know how to fight against each other and not how to join hands to resist the common enemy?"

The swordsmen from the Great Snowmountain were not used to criticism, regardless of whether it was offered out of good or bad will. The two groups of people thus turned toward the youth and loudly rebuked him at the same time. A few short-tempered people even charged toward him with their swords.

Strangely, it was Long Xiaoshi who held back his tribesmen. His objective for today was to wipe out the people of Luoshen Peak, and he did not want there to be any complications. "You may be a small boy but you certainly have some nerve. What right do you have to say this?"

The youth looked toward Long Qinying instead of the questioner. "I was friends with Long Tao and Long Hai. They entrusted me with reforming the five peaks of the the Great Snowmountain before their deaths."

Although Long Qinying had long known that the outcome would be like this, his body shuddered nonetheless. "Those two grandsons of mine are dead?"

"Yes. They killed a Golden Roc killer in Stone Castle and were consequently retaliated against."

"Good!" Long Qinying cheered. To kill a person in Golden Roc Fort was something which nobody else from the Great Snowmountain had been able to do.

Long Xiaoshi snorted grimly once again. Although Luoshen Peak now had an extra swordsman helping them, this did not affect the battle situation. In fact, the white-clothed youth's interference in the battle would save him considerable trouble.

Long Xiaoshi raised his heavy sword and shouted from the deepest part of his abdomen, "Kill!"

The two factions bellowed as they charged at each other. They never enjoyed verbal debates, and only knew how to engage in bloody fights.

A melee was about to take place with the white-clothed swordsman sandwiched in the middle. He thus pinched his lips and emitted a sharp whistling sound.

A dark cloud suddenly appeared in the clear sky and rapidly drifted over everyone's head.

A giant red-crowned roc descended from the sky, and with its first attack, it pecked off one of Long Xiaoshi's eyeballs. It subsequently flew up again before landing behind the white-clothed youth. Spreading its giant wings to protect him, it raised its head and swallowed what was in its mouth before looking left and right.

The swordsmen of both factions gasped astonishedly in unison, effectively drowning out Long Xiaoshi's screams of pain.

According to the old legend, giant rocs fed mainly on dragons. As descendants of the Five Dragons, this was the living thing these swordsmen should dread the most. They never imagined that this legendary bird would truly exist in this world.