Master, This Poor Disciple Died Again Today

The elder two Fu Clan siblings raced toward the banquet hall, streaking toward it atop a beam of sword light. Hui ran a hand over his face and activated the snakeskin technique, taking on Han Qin’s face. He glanced at Ying Lin. “Let me do the talking.”

“Understood. I’ll act injured,” Ying Lin replied. She crouched slightly, pressing a hand to her chest, and put on a pained expression.

Good, good. She shows promise! Hui thought approvingly. He put on a frightened expression and raced toward the incoming sword beam.

As they grew closer, the sword beam slowed. Fu Suyin stared at the two of them, Hui’s robes stained in his own blood from the battle, Ying Lin pale and strained. “What happened?”

“Eld… ahem, the banquet hall, it… hurry! There’s more injured, I had to… Fu Liyu, she’s still…” Hui turned back toward the banquet hall, terror written across his face.

Fu Suyin paled. “Fu Liyu!” She streaked toward the banquet hall, taking her brother along with her.

The second she left, Hui accelerated in the opposite direction, blasting as far from the Fu Clan and their banquet hall as he could.

In the distance, thunder rumbled. Lightning blasted from the sky. Bai Xue’s aura rushed out from the area, strong enough for Hui to sense even at this distance. From a totally different direction, a set of sword beams rushed toward the lightning tribulation.

“There they are!”

“Bai Xue, your mother is so worried!”

“Young Master, stop running off!”

Bai Xue will be fine. Even if the Fu Clan suspects her, they won’t be able to do anything with so many members of the Bai Clan there. Similarly, the Fu Clan can’t kill the girls to destroy the evidence if Bai Xue and the Bai Clan are around. It’s time for this small cultivator to vanish.

In the long term, Han Qin might come back for Fu Liyu… after all, he spent decades preparing her for this role. I’ve stolen his array, so it might be over, but I don’t know why he chose her for the array in the first place. She might be the only one who can work for… whatever he’s doing.

Her mother ‘died in childbirth’, the array… I’ll be honest, I didn’t notice much special about Fu Liyu. But then again, I had no idea about the Heaven character on my hand, either. Hui looked at his right hand and flexed it, still uncomfortable. Han Qin might be able to see things I can’t.

If Han Qin really is a clone, isn’t it possible that his main body is much stronger? Even in my case, I’m slightly weaker, and I’m, in essence, an entirely separate creature with its own powerful life force that I’ve simply coopted as my clone. Then…

No, no, Hui, don’t get too scared. It’s fine. He wouldn’t have allowed me to ruin his plans if he had much agency in the real world. If he is stronger, and that’s assuming he is, he’s probably in a situation like Senior Chen Wuya’s, where he can project some, but not all, of his power into the main world.

…It’s still a dangerous man to make my enemy, but at least I’m not under immediate threat of death. I should ask Chen Wuya if he knows anyone like Han Qin the next time I see him. It’s no guarantee, but he might know if Han Qin is a powerful senior from the previous generation.

Besides, it’s entirely possible that I’m overthinking, and he’s dead!

Right. Yeah.

Hui hurried on, quickly putting distance between himself and the banquet hall. He glanced at Ying Lin and swallowed nervously. I can die, even truly die—or this clone can, anyways. Ying Lin is still too weak to survive a second encounter with Han Qin, especially if he comes back with a vengeance. I should send her to another clone, where he won’t be able to follow.

Can I send living things through the tree-node?

The responsible voice he’d come to recognize as the miracle healer sounded in his ear. Let’s start small. Send me a spirit chicken.

In response, the rogue cultivator laughed. You’re just hungry.

“Where am I going to find a spirit chicken?” Hui muttered. He glanced around, then diverted his path slightly and zoomed downward, scooping a crimson songbird out of the air. He sent it through the node, to another clone.

“Spirit chicken?” Ying Lin asked.

Eh? What’s this, a new pet? the mortal clone asked.

Is it alive? Hui asked.

Yeah. Why?

I’ve encountered a dangerous Senior… A pressure emanated from the sky near Hui, and he gulped and grabbed Ying Lin, shoving her into the node as well. Anyways, quickly!

“Master, wha—” Ying Lin’s voice cut off midway as she vanished into the node.

Quickly what—hey!

Hui sent Zhubi, Gu Tian’s sword, the sealed array, and the excess talismans through the node as well, emptying his pockets wildly. No time! Just take them!

I’m going to cut you off from the network, is that okay?

Hui nodded. Do it! He might be able to trace us back if you don’t!

The miracle healer hesitated for a moment, then sent an affirmative. “Farewell, Sixth.”

“Until later, Healer,” Hui replied.

The network connection closed. Fir the first time since he’d connected, Hui was completely, utterly, alone.

The pressure grew stronger. The sky rippled, distorting like disturbed water. Ripples of something beyond Hui’s comprehension formed, vanishing in the next moment, the clouds and blue beyond twisting and reshaping before his eyes. A hand appeared, thrust through the distortion. It reached for him, palm opening wide.

Hui touched the bird charm from his master, but dropped his hand. Not yet. After all, a clone’s role is to die in the place of its maker.

Even so, I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die!

He darted away, retreating from the hand. Activating the first talisman mark on his forehead, the one he’d made long ago in the demonic sect, he burned his life qi to pour more energy into his flight and zoom away faster. He glanced over his shoulder and found the hand far behind him, half-closed on nothing. It clenched into a fist.

Suddenly, the hand encased him. Hui struggled, startled. It was so far behind me. How… Wait, don’t tell me. This cultivator is high enough level to use natural laws and spatial powers?

“You’ve made a mistake, bug,” Han Qin growled. “In exchange for my wasted decades, I’ll take your life.”

Hui shed his snakeskin and slipped out of the hand’s grasp, instantly fleeing once more.

Han Qin laughed. “I might not be able to interfere much in this world, but I can still destroy a bug like you.”

The hand opened again. Once more, it began to shut.

As it shut, Hui spun around in midair and threw himself out of his body, watching the hand clench with his third eye. The world twisted around it, qi distorting the shape of the universe itself. At the same time, the world swirled around him.

“You’re in a tough spot, kid,” a dry voice sounded.

Hui whirled. “Reaper!” It’s been so long since I’ve seen you… ah, but that’s a good thing!

She stood there in all white, pure black hair flowing on a breeze only she could feel. She shook her head. “Looks like it’s the end of the line for you, this time. Ah, man. Could you die in a less annoying way?”

“Less…annoying?” Hui asked.

“The paperwork for remnant souls is worse than you’d ever believe, and you don’t even fully qualify as a remnant soul. We’re going to have to make up a whole new form for you. You know what that sounds like to me?” She sighed deeply, sitting in midair to rest her chin on her hand.

“Uhm… unpaid overtime?” Hui asked cautiously, familiar with the inner workings of a black business.

“If you understand, then don’t cause so much trouble for me!” the reaper complained.

“Er, Elder Sister, I… I’m about to die,” Hui said, not sure how to apologize for dying.

“I know,” she grumbled. Standing up from her seat on the air, she swished her hand and summoned a white sword from midair. “Will you come willingly, or do I have to convince you?”

“Willingly, willingly!” Hui cried.

The hand clenched. Hui returned to reality as it closed around him, this time with killing force. He played dead the second it touched him, simultaneously activating his snake skin to drop free, but to no avail. The spatial forces locked down the world around him, and he couldn’t breathe, let alone move.

“How long… how long? Until, until… it’s the second time now, the second failure! Dammit!” Han Qin growled, intensifying his attack. “Stop—getting in my way! Everyone, this whole world, stop it! All I want, all I want—but you won’t! These misguided Heavens, this misguided world—”

Burning power raced through Hui, burning him from the inside out. His blood boiled, his flesh cooked. He tried to heal himself, but the fiery power burst his meridians, then ruptured his dantian. There was no escape.

Ah… I should really figure out how to fake destroying my cultivation. And full bodily destruction! Wait, what if I could use the snakeskin to create an entire fake body? Like I did with the ghouls, but without needing to carry around ghouls. And—and—and—

Hui closed his eyes, and then there was only him and the reaper, in a monochrome world.

He looked at his destroyed body as it turned to dust, then at the reaper. “I’ve… I’ve got so many new ideas on how to fake my death. This experience was practically an enlightenment for me. Can’t you look the other way?”

The reaper shrugged. “Afraid not. Actually, collecting your soul fragment before he destroys it is against the rules, but my Master has taken an interest in you.” She swished her sword, and Hui vanished.

“How dare you! He was mine! Mine! You aren’t allowed to interfere, Underworld dogs!” Han Qin shouted.

The reaper tapped her sword against the hand. Although Han Qin couldn’t see her, he could feel the icy blade against his flesh, and the sure promise of the afterlife it granted.

“Allowed to interfere? Who allows the Lord of the Underworld to interfere?” the reaper asked coldly.

At that, the hand went still. “You—”

Two strands of purple-gold lightning flashed down around them, targeting both Han Qin’s hand and the reaper. The reaper glanced up. The lightning halted an inch above her head. With a snort, she vanished.

The lightning mercilessly struck Han Qin. His hand flinched back, a black scar appearing on its thumb joint, then vanished, the spatial distortions settling in its absence.

From an empty stretch of sky, a shredded snakeskin fluttered to the ground.