FRGNM -Chapter 311 Beneath the Mask

They quickly withdrew from the room. With a flick of his right hand, Luo Mingyu summoned the Bloodthirsty Black Scythe into his grasp.

“This weapon was once forged by Master Yin Liang. It still carries traces of his aura. If Master Yin Liang truly is here, it will lead us to him.”

Blood from his middle finger dripped onto the black scythe. A cold, pitch-black killing aura spread out violently, shooting forward like lightning.

“Move!”

Several figures shot out like arrows loosed from a bow, rushing straight into the mountain forest ahead.

The mountains were desolate, the wind sighing endlessly. A man sat in the hills, gazing at the grave before him. One hand rested on the cold stone as he leaned quietly against it. Light flickered in his dark eyes—then suddenly, he startled and looked up toward the sky.

That trace of black aura had stirred the air, followed by another presence. Hua Chou’s expression changed drastically. He quickly pressed a hand to the tombstone, flipped forward, and landed ahead, cold light flashing in his eyes.

“Here!”

Several figures descended, looking toward the front.

The icy tombstone sent a chill through the heart. The black scythe trembled slightly, carrying a thread of baleful aura. Drawn by that lingering presence, it revealed a faint murderous glow.

Hua Chou’s pupils contracted as he stared at the black scythe in Luo Mingyu’s hand, saying coldly, “That is… Master’s Bloodthirsty Black Scythe! How do you have it? Could it be that you are… the Evil King?!”

He looked up at Luo Mingyu in shock and stepped forward excitedly, yet as if wary of something, he hurriedly wiped his hands on his clothes. Stopping a meter away, he stretched out his hand into the air and asked nervously, “I… may I take a look at the Bloodthirsty Black Scythe my master once forged?”

“Of course,” Luo Mingyu replied calmly. He stepped forward and placed the scythe into Hua Chou’s hands.

That confirmed it—Liu Han was Yin Liang. The aura he had released to search for Yin Liang had led them here and dissipated at the grave. It seemed that the once world-shaking Master Yin Liang truly had passed away.

Who would have thought it had been only such a short time? Yin Liang was already gone.

Slender fingers touched that familiar warmth, as though returning to the past. He could almost smell his master’s aura, even feel as if his master were still beside him.

The Bloodthirsty Black Scythe was Master’s second proudest creation, surpassed only by the Purple Bamboo Divine Needles. It was forged from thousand-year Dark Crystal—an extremely precious material—and infused with the Evil King’s Nine Nether Deathly Qi, perfectly manifesting the weapon’s bloodthirsty nature. Its blade was incomparably sharp, able to cut iron like mud. When infused with Dou Qi, it could slay enemies from a thousand li away—a weapon that existed solely to devour blood.

Hua Chou caressed the scythe again and again, his eyes shining. He longed to keep it, but reason prevailed. Taking a deep breath, he reluctantly handed it back to Luo Mingyu.

“Thank you. It seems you are my master’s friends. I was rude earlier. Are you looking for my master? He passed away a year ago.”

“How did Master Yin Liang die?” Luo Mingyu asked softly. One nearing death would not wander outside—they would prefer to pass away in peace.

Hua Chou clenched his fists instinctively. A flash of ferocity crossed his eyes as murderous intent surged, yet he could only grip his fingers tightly and say coldly, “I will never let them go. Never!”

“Calm down. Take it slowly,” Yin Lang said, swallowing nervously. When Hua Chou got angry, the scars along his jaw would stretch apart, making him look even more frightening.

It wasn’t that Yin Lang was obsessed with looks or hated ugly people—but between ugly things and slightly more pleasing ones, most people preferred the latter.

Taking a deep breath, Hua Chou looked at them. “Can I trust you?”

The former Evil King—his master had forged the Bloodthirsty Black Scythe for him. Anyone around him should be trustworthy. Still, Hua Chou asked, seeking confirmation.

Luo Mingyu nodded. “Yes. We came to find Master Yin Liang for another weapon.”

He opened his right hand. Five pieces of purple bamboo floated in midair, glowing softly and making the bamboo forest even more beautiful. The aura they released made even the grave tremble slightly as another presence coiled around it, lingering endlessly.

Hua Chou’s face changed dramatically. His eyes widened as he stared ahead, inhaling sharply.

“This… the Purple Bamboo Divine Needles?! Impossible! This is purple bamboo—there are only five in the entire continent! Master forged them into the Purple Bamboo Divine Needles. How could they revert to their original form?!”

He was utterly stunned. He didn’t understand how a weapon could be reverted to its base material. Yet these were undeniably the purple bamboo his master had used—the Purple Bamboo Divine Needles, his first perfect creation.

“Who did this? Who destroyed the Purple Bamboo Divine Needles? Wait—are you looking for my master to have him reforge them?”

It felt like a monstrous waste. If he could, Hua Chou wanted to kill whoever had destroyed the needles.

Shrugging helplessly, Yin Lang raised his hands to placate him. “Easy, easy. Don’t get excited. We don’t know what happened either—they just suddenly turned back into purple bamboo. But we really do need to forge the Purple Bamboo Divine Needles again. Can you call your master out?”

“You can shut up.”

Hua Chou wished he could strangle Yin Lang. Call his master out? His master was already buried—and cremated. There was no way he could return.

His master was dead. The Purple Bamboo Divine Needles could no longer be forged.

“What was your master’s cause of death?” Qingyi stepped forward, frowning.

Behind him, Ling Ruoxi quickly withdrew the purple bamboo. Spiritual energy rippled outward, making the surrounding plants tremble. If the spiritual energy here weren’t so rich, the grass might have grown wildly on the spot.

“My master was hunted down and framed to death.”

Killing intent burst from Hua Chou’s dark eyes as he clenched his fists. “When we went out together to gather materials, a group of people suddenly appeared and called him Yin Liang. My master was already old, and there were over ten assassins who insisted on taking him away. He resisted—they accidentally killed him, then claimed he ran into their blades on purpose. Before he died, Master told me he wanted to be cremated, not buried.”

“I didn’t understand what he meant. I followed his wishes, cremated him, and brought his ashes back to bury here. He said he liked this place and wanted to live in seclusion here. Now…”

Not buried again?

Luo Mingyu placed a hand on Ling Ruoxi’s head and explained, “Yin Liang lived for a thousand years because he once consumed a Heaven-and-Earth Spirit Fruit. As long as his body wasn’t cremated, it could repair itself.”

“What?! Master—!”

Hua Chou’s face went pale. If what the Evil King said was true, then hadn’t he personally killed his own master?

Even Qingyi was stunned, resting his chin on his hand. “Reviving from death? I’ve never heard of such a method. How did he do it?”

“That,” Yuwen Zhiyuan said with a faint smile, “was also thanks to the Purple Bamboo Divine Needles. Purple bamboo is born from heaven-and-earth spiritual energy and contains boundless vitality. The Divine Needles were created for medical purposes. There is also a spirit fruit that pairs with them—the Luoshan Fruit.”

“Luoshan Fruit?” Qingyi sucked in a breath.

Ling Ruoxi frowned and shook her head. “That’s not right. The Luoshan Fruit is poisonous. Once consumed, the toxin doesn’t vanish with death—it grows even more violent. Anyone who uses it should die.”

“That’s the mystery,” Yuwen Zhiyuan replied calmly. “The Luoshan Fruit is poison, but the Purple Bamboo Divine Needles are treasures of life energy, endlessly regenerating. When the Luoshan poison encounters the Divine Needles, the two counterbalance each other. Even after death, the poison remains, and the needles continue to suppress it, causing a sudden eruption of vitality that revives the dead—thus, endless life. The only way to break it is cremation—burning both together, erasing all aura.”

Everyone inhaled sharply. Even Jiang Yu’s swordlike brows lifted slightly. This defied natural law. Beasts and humans alike lived by heaven-and-earth spiritual energy; even battle-qi cultivators defied the heavens only temporarily. Yet this man could live endlessly—how could that not be terrifying?

“So the Purple Bamboo Divine Needles have such power? No wonder Murong Ming told me to forge them and bring them back. Maybe they really can save Father!”

Ling Ruoxi’s eyes shone with renewed determination.

No matter what, she would have the Purple Bamboo Divine Needles forged.

Hua Chou shook his head and gave a bitter smile. “It’s impossible. Treasures like the Purple Bamboo Divine Needles or the Bloodthirsty Black Scythe could only be forged by my master. Now that he’s gone, I…”

“But there’s still you!” Ling Ruoxi said firmly. “You are Master Yin Liang’s successor. If your master was proud of you, then you can forge the Purple Bamboo Divine Needles too!”

She would not give up. This sliver of hope—she would never let it die.

Me?

Hua Chou’s pupils contracted. He took a deep breath, pressed a hand to his cheek, and turned away indifferently. One hand rested on the tombstone as he said softly, “Do you know why I wear this mask?”

“Isn’t it because your face was burned?” Yin Lang blurted out—only to be smacked on the head by Qingyi. This kid really had a talent for saying the wrong thing.

Hua Chou shook his head and turned back to them. His eyes, like stars, shimmered faintly as he smiled coldly.

“Burned? They only know I was scarred by fire. But who remembers who I truly am? Wearing a mask gives me a false face, keeping anyone from seeing my heart. This ugly mask pushes people away—not because they hate me, but because I chose to give up connecting with them myself.”