"Ignore her," Gu Qingxi said dismissively, her gaze already scanning the path leading east. "A greenhouse flower, coddled rotten. Thinks the world revolves around her whims. A few sharp knocks from reality will school her soon enough." The arrogance was bone-deep; what she lacked was sufficient exposure to the world's harsh curriculum.
The disciples dispersed in four groups to sweep the village periphery.
Gu Qingxi's group found it first. Beneath an ancient, gnarled scholar tree at the village's eastern edge, the earth was unnaturally dark, faintly reeking of iron. Half-buried among serpentine roots lay a fractured obsidian obelisk, its surface crawling with intricate, malignant runes. The Array Core.
"Smash it?" Xu Baozhu hefted her blade, eyes alight. "Break the core, flush out the puppeteer, we all jump him, trial over? Simple!"
"In theory." Gu Qingxi's brow furrowed slightly. "The trial's challenge shouldn't exceed the collective might of new disciples. Otherwise, it would render the trial pointless."
But is it truly this straightforward?
Soon, reports filtered in: similar Foundation Nodes found at north, south, and west.
"Can't stall forever. Break it!" Gu Qingxi suppressed a flicker of unease. The ease felt wrong, but they had to proceed. No path forward without destroying the cage.
The destruction was unnervingly smooth.
No counter-strokes, no hidden traps, not even a whisper of malevolent wind stirred.
"The barrier's gone! We can leave!" A disciple near the village boundary shouted, elation clear.
"Maybe… we just tell the villagers to run? Escape equals rescue, trial complete?" another voice piped up, hopeful.
"It's not that simple…" Gu Qingxi murmured, her voice barely audible.
"Ha! Always the cryptic one!" The sword-bearing girl sneered, seizing the moment to provoke. "Enlighten us then, oh wise one! How is it not simple?"
Gu Qingxi cut her a sideways glance, her fingertip tapping her own temple. "If you possess such boundless wisdom, go. Complete your trial alone. If all you have is bark, then take it elsewhere. Your noise pollutes the air." Her words were sharp, a rare display of biting contempt. Silence sometimes invited trespass.
"Exactly! Clinging like a limpet just to spit venom! The shamelessness!" Xu Baozhu launched verbal counter-fire immediately.
"Esteemed Daoist Sister," Xue Mingbai's intervention was marginally more diplomatic, "if you lack a better strategy, perhaps silence would serve us all."
Others, sensing their passage hinged on Gu Qingxi, were far less charitable:
"All bravado, no bite! Who was it staggering from the barrier impact earlier?"
"Talent resides solely in her tongue?"
The barbed comments struck home. The sword-bearing girl's face cycled from flushed crimson to sickly pale. Her chest heaved, fists clenched so tight the knuckles shone white. The urge to storm off warred violently with the searing memory of the trial proctor's command: UNIFIED DEFENSE OR FAILURE. She bit down hard on her lip until it bled, forcing herself to remain, her expression a thundercloud.
Gu Qingxi felt a flicker of surprise. The girl clearly existed in a bubble of adulation. To endure such concentrated derision and stay? Unexpected resilience.
The fractured obsidian at the scholar tree was shattered beyond recognition by combined strikes.
As the final piece crumbled, the oppressive canopy of grey overhead seemed to thin momentarily. The suffocating pressure lifted.
But Gu Qingxi's sharp eyes caught the subtle shift within the surrounding hovels – the pale, terrified faces peeking from door cracks and window shutters vanished instantly! Simultaneously, a cacophony of harsh thuds and sharp clicks echoed – every crack and gap slammed shut, barricaded from within! A wave of palpable, fresh terror radiated through the sudden, cloying silence.
"Insolent wretches! How DARE you shatter my work?! Today, your souls shall scream within my Bone Lament!"
A voice like claws scraping on slate tore through the air – high-pitched, grating, impossible to gender, layered with venom and madness. It felt simultaneously whispered against their ears and screamed from the depths of hell itself.
A gale screamed in answer!
It wasn't wind; it was hate made tangible. It whipped around them, bitingly cold, thick with the stench of decay and clotted blood. The temperature plunged. Xu Baozhu gasped, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. "A… a cultivator? Demonic? Or…?" She couldn't voice the worst.
"Profane!" Gu Qingxi snapped, the word harsh and absolute. The wind reeked of agony, despair, and the cold residue of violently consumed life. Only those who feasted on souls emanated such utter corruption. "Draw Steel!" Her command was a whip-crack. She already held her plain sect-issue sword leveled.
The sword-bearing girl managed to draw her gleaming spirit sword first, though her knuckles were bone-white. Grotesque tales of Profane cultivators flooded her mind. Others were visibly shaking; the audible chatter of teeth came from multiple directions.
"Kekekeke… weepweepweep…" The unnerving sound – half-laughter, half-sobbing – resurfaced, seeming to circle them. "Such plump, tender lambs… Qi-rich blood… enough to fill a Blood Cauldron to brimming…"
"Blood Cauldron!" The words struck like physical blows. Faces drained of color. Even knowing it was an illusion, the visceral horror promised in those syllables was soul-chilling.
The sky choked on darkness, turning twilight to pitch.
The gale intensified, blinding, staggering!
Freezing cold numbed limbs, made movement an agonizing crawl!
The enemy remained unseen, yet its presence crushed them like an avalanche.
He coalesced in the village center. Gaunt and unnaturally tall, draped in robes of a bruise-like purple that bled into dried-blood crimson at the hems. His skin was corpse-pale, eyes burning with pure malice. His belt… adorned with strands of tiny, unmistakable… human finger bones! And clutched in his skeletal hand, a long pipe, seamless, cold – unmistakably carved from the bone of a human forearm!
A Bone Song Flute!
This Profane horror… walked the path of Soul Piping!