Five years ago.
“Why does someone who doesn't even dare to show his face deserve to be one of the Four Supremes of the World?”
“At the very least, Ghost-Mask is someone with an infamous reputation...”
Bang! A cup was slammed violently onto the table. With a face full of disdain, that person said, “Zhao Yichen of the West Family in Hengmen, and that One-Eyed Drunkard Mo Sandao—which of them isn't stronger than him?”
“Even that descendant of Grandmaster Luban managed to flee to the western valleys by relying on his own skills to withstand challenges from all kinds of experts in the jianghu.”
The West Family's Zhao Yidao? The One-Eyed Drunkard?
In the corner, Li Lu let out a sneer. To others, those two were indeed at the level of first-class experts, but they weren't qualified to even touch this position.
He didn't know much about Ghost-Mask; he only knew that people in the jianghu said that the person always wore a mask, and no one had ever seen his true face. He was famous for his mystery.
“Bluffing.” Li Lu shook his head. How capable could someone be if they relied on this sort of method to spread their reputation?
Over the next few days, the news of Ghost-Mask becoming one of the Four Supremes spread across the entire jianghu. Countless super-class experts swarmed in, along with no small number of first-class experts, all wanting to make a name for themselves.
Taking on the title of the Four Supremes meant bearing the siege of the entire jianghu; this was already an unwritten rule.
When Du Jiugu became one of the Four Supremes, he had traveled across most of the jianghu with his sword casket on his back. Wherever he went, people would tremble at the mere rustle of leaves, and he beat countless individuals into absolute terror.
Chu Hanyi, with just her sword, was cornered in a desolate valley, yet she forcefully carved out a path of blood, cementing her status in the jianghu with that single battle.
Even he himself had been hunted for over a year, relying on his master-level poison arts to play seven or eight super-class experts to death, leaving every single pursuer with permanent internal injuries.
The Four Supremes of the World represented the four individuals in each era who could truly stand at the absolute ceiling of the jianghu. And in this current era, only the last seat remained.
An unprecedented reign of terror and bloodshed in the jianghu was about to unfold.
...
...
The next time Li Lu heard news of Ghost-Mask was half a month later.
He was in the territory of Beizhou. There was a wasteland there spanning three hundred li, where not a single blade of grass grew year-round, and no one dared to live.
Hearing this news, people of the jianghu flocked to the location from all directions like sharks smelling blood.
Even Li Lu himself became interested.
“Interesting. Just how arrogant and conceited does someone have to be to court death like this?” Li Lu looked toward Beizhou, finally feeling a sense of curiosity toward this Ghost-Mask.
Over the next few days, he followed the crowd toward Beizhou territory. On the way, he encountered several other jianghu folk who struck up conversations with him.
Without exception, they either asked, “Brother, are you going to Beizhou too?” or said, “Ghost-Mask is truly ignorant, wanting to challenge the entire jianghu by himself.”
Amidst this constant ridicule, he finally arrived in Beizhou.
Yet the moment he stepped into Beizhou, the public opinion regarding Ghost-Mask suddenly underwent a bizarre transformation. From the initial cold mockery and curses, it turned into silence and an inexplicable dread.
Just as he was preparing to step into the wasteland, he happened to encounter a man walking out of it.
“Are you... also going to challenge Ghost-Mask?”
After a brief moment of thought, Li Lu nodded, only to see the other person looking at him with a complex expression—one that looked as if they were looking at a dead man.
“Go back.”
The man shook his head and said. Without caring for Li Lu's reaction, he brushed past him and left on his own.
...
The parched earth crackled underfoot. Under the scorching sun, Li Lu walked forward slowly, surrounded by an endless, barren wasteland.
The entire wasteland stretched for a full three hundred li. Finding Ghost-Mask would require a bit of luck.
He now highly suspected that the other party was hiding in the wasteland so that the jianghu experts couldn't find him, thus forcing them to give up.
However, Li Lu felt this kind of thinking was rather childish.
As he was thinking this, he suddenly saw a small hill rising from the flat ground in the distance. Although not very high, it was enough to shield people in the wasteland from the sun.
Li Lu walked toward the small hill, thinking about where to find Ghost-Mask as he walked.
His footsteps trod over the cracked earth, each fissure looking like a dark, bottomless abyss. Every time he lifted his foot, it kicked up a few grains of yellow sand.
But when he lifted his foot once more, no yellow sand flew up. Scarlet blood filled the cracked earth. Sticky blood clung to his heels, stretching into thin lines of blood as he took another step forward.
At this moment, Li Lu came to a sudden halt. The hemp sack fell from his hand, yet he was completely oblivious to it. He merely stared blankly and listlessly at the “small hill” ahead.
A wild wind blew against his face, even blowing off his bamboo hat. Sunlight shone into his dilated pupils, which were vacant from extreme shock.
There was no small hill on the wasteland at all. A mountain of piled corpses came into view, blood flowing along the cracks in the ground toward the distance. This was not a river that brought life to the wasteland, but a tragic song of death.
Under the massive shadow of the mountain of corpses sat a figure clad in a black robe. He was entirely hidden in the darkness, with only a mask, half-soaked in blood, covering his face.
Through the darkness, Li Lu could only see the slightly hideous smile on that mask.
Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he spotted another person standing motionless on the spot not far away, a look of identical disbelief written on their face.
Perhaps noticing his gaze, the person turned their head to meet his eyes, though their pupils weren't fully focused.
The other party merely glanced at him, then turned their head back. After standing there in silence for half a ke, they slowly turned around and walked back the way they came.
Li Lu bent down to pick up his sack. Finally, he took one last look at the mountain of corpses. The massive pile of bodies on the wasteland, juxtaposed against Ghost-Mask's slender figure, formed a bizarre picture. In particular, the hideous smile hidden in the shadows sent shivers down his spine.
He walked out of the wasteland and left Beizhou. The jianghu remained the same as always, but this time, one more legend had been added to it.
A legend of one man suppressing the entire jianghu.
The story of the mountain of corpses in the wasteland was never spread. Only an extremely select few knew what had truly transpired in Beizhou that year.
It was just that the number of first-class and super-class experts in the jianghu suddenly decreased by a lot. Some speculated they had retired, while others guessed they had grown old.
No one knew that those who once stirred up storms in the jianghu were now rotting away with time in a place where no one ever visited.
“There is a highly ominous place in Beizhou that suffers from year-round drought, where the earth cracks for a hundred li, and blood flows constantly within the fissures. All year round, countless vultures circle in the sky above the wasteland.”
“Accompanying this highly ominous place was a new label added to the name of Ghost-Mask.”
Ghost-Mask... the God of Slaughter.
...
Thud!
A bowl slammed heavily against Li Lu's head, shattering the astonishment and shock on the faces of Fengqingzi and the others.
“Keep making noise, and get the hell out.”
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