# 551
Chapter 552: Inheritance
The instant that sword-light appeared in the sky, even the shattered city shrouded in dim radiance was lit for a moment.
Lin Qiye and the others racing through the streets jerked their heads up, shock blooming in their eyes.
“That’s…” Shen Qingzhu stared in bewilderment.
“Sword Saint senior’s blade,” Lin Qiye said, feeling the fierce sword-qi that flooded heaven and earth.
They knew this aura all too well.
For months in that warehouse they had trained until this very sword-qi knocked them unconscious every day; Zhou Ping’s blade had been etched into their bones, recognizable in an instant.
“One god’s pressure just vanished,” An Qingyu announced after a careful sweep.
They exchanged glances, awe in every pair.
What that meant was clear to all…
The first human in history to slay a god had been born.
He was their teacher.
Yet…
Lin Qiye’s fists clenched so tight they shook.
Resentment and grief flashed across his eyes.
They had finally found this city’s coordinates, learned how to move through the fog, gained the means to reach it; they had used everything and arrived.
They had already rescued Zhou Ping;
Zhou Ping had even broken through that ceiling and become the 【Worldly Sword Immortal】…
But in the end they could only watch him fade into the Dao.
Their coming had seemed to change something—yet changed nothing.
Zhou Ping’s destined path had been nudged by Lin Qiye and the others, but the track soon corrected itself, still ending in death.
His fate, ultimately, had not been altered.
At this moment Lin Qiye recalled Black Pupil’s words:
“That man is entangled in too much; his threads of fate are iron-bound. To change his destiny… the price is one you cannot pay.”
Tampering with fate itself is an equal exchange.
They had done all they could, but the price they paid was still insufficient to rewrite Zhou Ping’s end.
“Sword Saint senior’s sword-intent remains; he hasn’t fully dissolved into the Dao,” Cao Yuan said. “Qiye, we—”
“Keep going.” Lin Qiye didn’t hesitate. “We can’t enter his fight, but we can battle shoulder-to-shoulder with him on another front.
Since we promised Sword Saint senior we’d send them home, we’ll keep that promise.
We… will carve a bloody path!”
Whoosh whoosh whoosh—!!
Their figures tore through the gale.
Underground garage—
Dead air, heavy and stifling. Chen Han and Lu Yu guarded three children by a stove, waiting anxiously.
Suddenly Chen Han’s head snapped up.
“Senior Chen Han, what is it?” Lu Yu asked, puzzled.
“Did you hear something just now?”
“A sound?”
“Someone ran past over there.”
Chen Han pointed toward the alley at the garage entrance, certain.
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“I’ll take a look.”
His face grave, Chen Han stepped out. In this city there should be no one left besides them; had the Sword Saint returned, or had someone else awakened?
Either way, he had to check.
He walked out of the garage. Because the fractured city kept moving, mournful wind filled the streets.
Straight Blade at his hip, he reached the middle of the street and turned toward the sound.
His pupils shrank.
The garage sat at the city’s edge; underground, they had seen nothing outside. Only now, standing in the open, did Chen Han truly see what lay ahead.
Hundreds of different “mysteries” surged like a storm-tossed sea beneath the gloomy sky, rushing from the fog straight at them!
“Where did so many ‘mysteries’ come from?”
Lu Yu followed him out, froze at the sight, eyes full of disbelief. “Everything was fine before—how did they suddenly appear…”
Chen Han’s face was dark.
Then his peripheral vision caught something; he squinted and jolted.
On the roof of a ruined building at the city’s edge, seven figures stood against the wind, wearing masks of varied shapes, silently watching the onrushing tide!
Before this apocalyptic wave they did not retreat half a step, like a sea-calming needle planted between the city and the mysteries.
“That…” Chen Han found several silhouettes familiar.
Especially a slightly chubby one—very like the little fatty who had once handed him a Rolex…
He only thought it; he didn’t truly connect them.
Numbers and auras didn’t match.
“Senior Chen Han, where did those people come from?” Lu Yu scratched his head. “Night Watch?”
“No idea.”
Chen Han shook his head. “Their masks look like the 【Mask】 Squad, but off… 【Mask】 shouldn’t have Journey-to-the-West themes.”
Lu Yu pondered.
“You stay and protect the civilians; I’ll go help.”
Chen Han instructed Lu Yu and turned to sprint toward the building where Lin Qiye stood.
Lu Yu blinked. “Senior, I can also—”
Chen Han stopped, was silent a moment, then said slowly:
“You stay.
If I don’t come back, someone has to guard them… and bring them home.”
Lu Yu stood frozen.
Chen Han smiled at his expression, as if recalling something.
“Right, one more secret.
My collection—office cabinet—”
He finished, Straight Blade at his waist, dark-red cloak billowing, and charged without hesitation toward the edge building!
In the lonely street,
Lu Yu stared after him, a statue rooted in place.
Chen Han dashed into the building, raced to the roof; the instant he appeared, the figure in the Sun Wukong mask turned slowly.
“Lu Yu, long time no see.”
Lin Qiye lifted his mask and smiled.
Seeing that familiar face, Lu Yu was stunned.
“It really is you guys…”