TBWE Chapter 36

Revenge

“Boom!“

Shadow-formed grotesque tentacles crashed down thunderously, and that furious roar came to an abrupt halt.

The square’s stone bricks cracked and caved in, debris and blood-mud splattered, mixed with flower petals and liquid. This pool of crushed crimson shocked everyone present.

Wind carried the stench of blood to Chu Li.

Her stomach reflexively spasmed and contracted, but her heart felt no ripples—her soul seemed to float in mid-air, observing this scene from above.

After a brief, heart-stopping silence, the main family members whose names had been called twisted their faces in anguish, shrieking as they rushed toward the altar.

Their family and friends also reddened with fury, like wolf packs driven into desperation, converging into a tide of desperate chaos that surged violently toward the altar.

Desperation ignited their ferocity. Various howls, curses, and the clanging of bronze bells merged into one cacophonous din.

“She’s the daughter of the traitor Chu Ruoxian!”

“Kill her! Kill her!”

“Avenge the Grand Nuo!”

The roaring nearly overturned the entire square.

Nuo arts, bell sounds, and cold weapons all surged toward Chu Li.

Standing on the high altar, Chu Li gazed down at the human tide below, distinguishing each twisted face, matching the inherited memories with the people before her.

She didn’t move, only gently raised her hand.

“Whoosh——“

Tentacles emerged without warning from the shadows at her feet, swift as lightning, rushing toward the crowd.

“Squelch! Squelch!“

The tentacles precisely pierced through the chests of several main family members charging at the front, like skewering pieces of flesh.

The impaled figures froze, blood gushing and staining the ground red. They stared in disbelief at the writhing black appendages that had pierced through their chests, unable even to scream.

The tentacles suddenly thrashed!

Several pierced corpses were hurled like broken sacks, crashing hard into the surging crowd.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!“

Dull thuds accompanied by the crisp sound of shattering bones. The crowd’s momentum stalled—those struck wailed and fell, those behind stumbled, and the scene instantly became even more chaotic and panicked.

“She’s gained the power of the Nuo god!” someone screamed in terror.

Fear spread like plague, and a small portion began to retreat. But desperate rage hadn’t been extinguished—more main family members, especially those whose close relatives had been chosen as divine attendants or had just been killed, completely lost their minds. They trampled over their companions’ corpses with crazed expressions, charging upward.

They all knew that if they didn’t kill Chu Li, the privileges the main family had enjoyed for thousands of years would be completely destroyed.

Tentacles shuttled ceaselessly, flesh and blood flew everywhere.

A middle-aged man gripping a short blade rushed onto the altar, the bronze bell in his hand emitting death-knell sounds, sound waves rippling toward Chu Li.

His face was fierce. “Die!”

The figure on the altar seemed motionless. Her left hand turned, crimson threads dropping from her fingertips, swimming like living things.

The moment the blade stabbed toward Chu Li, the man’s fierce expression froze.

“Ahhh——!” He let out an inhuman wail, clutching his throat with both hands, kneeling on the ground in violent convulsions, his eyeballs bulging and bloodshot. The skin on his body kept bulging, as if countless insects were crawling through his blood vessels.

Immediately after, similar wails erupted one after another throughout the crowd.

Chu Li moved.

In an instant, she was down from the altar, shadows condensing into sharp blades in her hands.

Raised, then brought down.

Blood “hissed——” as it gushed forth.

The blade formed from tentacles—with each swing, it brought forth gushing fountains of blood, leaving behind figures with severed limbs struggling on the ground. Blood flowed smoothly down; no matter how many people she killed, not a drop of blood would stain the blade.

The crowd was carved open with a bloody path. Those who continued to resist were dealt with by tentacles or red threads.

Blood.

More and more blood splashed across the square, converging into rivulets flowing through ancient crevices. The thick, acrid smell of iron permeated the air, coating everyone’s mouth and nose with stickiness.

Chu Li didn’t look at who had fallen, nor did she try to discern whether their final expressions showed anger or fear. The hem of her ceremonial robe was stained with blood, growing heavy.

Her consciousness seemed suspended above, detached from the bloody scene below.

Someone wielded a wooden staff, its tip gathering dark red light. Chu Li didn’t even bother to dodge—her blade casually swept across, and that supposedly ancestral staff was severed in two along with the hand holding it.

“Chu Li, you’ve betrayed our clan—you won’t have a good end!!”

Screams were drowned in more roars and the sounds of Nuo arts being cast.

The pitch-black blade precisely sliced open a young man’s throat.

Warm liquid sprayed across the Nuo mask. Chu Li instinctively closed her eyes, letting the bloody saltiness soak her clothing. Her throat suddenly tightened, her stomach began to spasm and convulse. She forcefully suppressed the urge to vomit, her blade-wielding hand moving faster and steadier.

The sacrificial square was like a boiling cauldron of blood.

Screams, curses, pleas for mercy… Initially fierce roars and curses gradually became sparse.

The square fell into complete silence, with only the wind’s mournful wailing.

Chu Li stood motionless, her soul seeming to be drawn out, floating in mid-air.

She looked toward her little aunt by the altar, blood-covered but with unnaturally bright eyes, then at the group of bound young men and women, their faces full of terror.

Then she looked behind her—the branch families prostrated on the ground like a silent colony of ants.

Sunlight fell without reservation, illuminating the sprawling architectural complex. A little farther away stood the sacred mountain planted thick with blood-red firs, and the towering divine shrine.

An indescribable fatigue and coldness permeated Chu Li.

From the moment she chose to kill the Xi Chu at the engagement ceremony, from the moment she chose to return to the Chu family… all the past—whether anger, sorrow, despair, or that later fragile hesitation and compassion—was now, before this blood-soaked square, cleanly and thoroughly severed by an invisible blade.

The Nuo mask was ice-cold, the ceremonial robe soaked with blood pressed heavily against her body, her feet treading on sticky blood. She was the new Grand Nuo who had climbed up by stepping on countless lives and treading on the bones of the previous Grand Nuo.

Wind dispersed the heavy smell of blood.

Chu Li walked straight toward the group of young men and women chosen as divine attendants. They were bound, huddled together like chicks.

They had never seen such a terrifying scene—some had fainted from fright, others saw Chu Li approaching and burst into tears and snot, begging not to be killed.

Chu Queling had fainted once and been awakened by the sounds of slaughter. Now her face was deathly pale and trembling.

The blade swiftly swept across.

The ropes snapped, and the bound youths regained their freedom.

Chu Li sheathed her blade, her tone calm. “You may leave now.”

They huddled together anxiously, scrambling to prostrate themselves, praying and pleading—no one dared to get up.

Chu Queling was jostled and about to fall when a hand caught her in time.

“Ahhh——!!” Chu Queling recoiled as if stung by a poisonous insect, unable to control herself as she jerked away, falling on her rear. Tears instantly welled up. Realizing who she had pushed away, she ignored the blood covering the ground and prostrated herself. “I… I… sorry, sorry…”

Mountain wind wailed and echoed.

Chu Li silently watched Chu Queling, who viewed her as a ghost, suddenly realizing that the scene of them sitting on stone steps sharing tribute just days ago felt like another lifetime.

Her heart felt as if a piece had been devoured, forever lost.

She didn’t reach out to help again, softly saying, “It’s alright. Go home.”

Chu Queling looked up dazedly, gazing at her with moving lips, tears streaming continuously, but ultimately said nothing and stumbled away.

With one person taking the lead in leaving, the prostrated crowd began to stir.

Chu Ruoying threw down the blade she had seized. In the recent melee, she had killed several clan members who had tried to approach Chu Li. She strode over and, in front of all the terrified clan members, pulled Chu Li into her arms.

“Where did you disappear to without a word?” Chu Ruoying was strong, pressing Chu Li against her shoulder. “You scared your little aunt to death!”

It was an ordinary sentence, scolding a junior.

Chu Li’s soul, which had been floating above observing everything, suddenly fell back into her body because of these words. All the emotions she had deliberately ignored came surging back in retaliation.

The sticky smell of blood kept drilling into her nose, her stomach began violent contractions, and tears soaked the space between her face and the Nuo mask.

She wanted to go mad, to scream, to wake up from these nightmarish scenes.

Chu Ruoying tightly held the trembling body in her arms, choking back sobs. “It’s okay, it’s all over. You did well. The shrine’s seal is still there—from now on, your little aunt will guard here and won’t let Him come looking for you again. You go back to your studies, do whatever you should do, don’t worry about this…”

Listening to the rambling voice, Chu Li’s tears flowed even more freely as she murmured: “There’s no time left…Little Aunt, I can’t go back.”

“What do you mean no time? How can there be no time?” Chu Ruoying quickly let go, hurriedly examining her body. Seeing that ring, she froze as if nailed in place.

“I borrowed power from Him. Only three days.”

Chu Li hugged her once, the corners of her mouth lifting. “Little Aunt, go open the mountain gate and let them go down the mountain. I still have one thing left to do.”

Chu Ruoying had an ominous premonition. “Xiao Li, what are you planning to do!”

Red threads flowed and interweaved, forming a soft wall that pushed all the surviving people toward the path down the mountain.

It wasn’t like expulsion, but more like protection.

“Xiao Li, Chu Li! What else are you going to do!” Chu Ruoying clawed at the red wall, being pushed away bit by bit, tears streaming down. “You can’t kill Him—don’t do anything foolish!”

****

Chu Li walked across the square littered with flesh and severed limbs, step by step ascending the altar, gazing toward the shrine.

Should she go back?

No, she had never planned to stay by His side.

No matter how magnificent, a cage was still a cage; no matter how gentle and kind, a keeper still controlled the life and death of the caged bird.

Who could guarantee that a deity would forever favor the same human?

After losing that favor, what fate awaited a human who had depended on divine grace for survival?

Chu Li was unwilling to place her destiny in another’s hands.

Her gaze focused on the altar beneath her feet, where crimson patterns constructed layer upon layer of complex magical arrays.

The memories of past Grand Nuos flowed and collided in her mind. Complex array patterns, intricate node arrangements, the pathways of Nuo arts circulation… Reading vast amounts of memory in a short time far exceeded her body’s capacity. Her temples throbbed with pain as if about to explode, giving her a dizzying sensation like falling into a kaleidoscope.

Another power within her body repaired the overloaded flesh, dispelling the discomfort.

She took a deep breath, her gaze sweeping over every carved line, like reading a long-familiar book.

This array used to strengthen the Chu family’s seal on the deity, steal divine power, and absorb the life force of divine attendants… instantly deconstructed in her mind. Peeling away the arrays layered by generations of Grand Nuos, she found the very core—that framework so ancient it was nearly buried by time.

It was the god-summoning array laid down by the first Grand Nuo.

It was the most primitive and closest to the source, serving to “communicate” with the deity.

Chu Li stared at it.

Summoning gods… what if she completely reversed this “summoning” intent?

Sending.

Send away what had been summoned.

Chu Li’s gaze fell on several key runic nodes.

The thought flashed through her mind, and the red mark below her heart suddenly stung sharply, like some furious warning.

She curled her fingers, knuckles white with pressure, suppressing the pain in her chest. She reached out and dipped her finger in some still-warm blood from the ground—it belonged to someone who had just died, full of death and resentment, the perfect medium.

The blood-stained finger precisely touched the source pattern representing “summon.”

“Hiss!“

The crimson patterns seemed scorched by high heat. Chu Li pressed her lips tightly, her finger pressing down inch by inch as blood droplets spread in the recessed Nuo script.

She didn’t draw new Nuo script, but instead smeared that drop of blood—

Like wiping away an eyesore.

The entire altar shook violently, crimson patterns seeming to come alive, flowing and intersecting, emitting an ominous red glow.

“Crack——“

Fine sounds of breaking continued.

With the core destroyed, the new arrays layered upon the original god-summoning array cracked one layer after another.

Including the shrine’s seal.

Cold sweat ran down her temples. Chu Li endured the backlash of destroying the array, cut her fingertip, and let more blood drip down as she began to stroke by stroke reverse-write the original god-summoning array.

She had to be fast.

She must complete it before the seal broke open!

Each stroke of the reverse array felt like carving out her heart. She knelt on the ground, consciousness twisted by intense pain, her finger tracing stroke by stroke with difficulty.

“Rumble——“

Dark clouds instantly accumulated, thunder exploding in the cloud layers.

Above the sacred mountain, a faint, bone-chilling fluctuation spread. The crimson seal wrapped around the sacred mountain hummed and glowed, but clearly, it was gradually weakening.

In an instant, the seal cracked like fragile glass struck by an invisible giant hand, showing an unmistakable fissure.

The shrine that had sealed the deity for a thousand years turned to dust, and viscous darkness frantically expanded and gushed from the broken crack!

Tentacles emerged from the darkness, no longer in the familiar form Chu Li knew.

They writhed and rolled, grotesquely twisted, like indescribable, unviewable things, devouring everything visible.

Rumble rumble!

Violent wind swept toward the surrounding mountains and Chu family buildings. Half the sacred mountain couldn’t withstand the deity’s fury—mountain walls collapsed, vast cedar forests toppled.

Debris rained down like hail. Several ancient buildings near the god mountain bore the brunt, their massive wooden and stone structures torn apart like paper.

The sky turned black as spilled ink.

Ferocious tentacles surged wildly, toward the altar in the sacrificial square, crushing down like an overwhelming tide.

The deity’s voice, filled with limitless rage, shook the ground.

“The fourth time.”