Chapter 167: Expect No Mercy
The Sword of Red Run bobbed playfully in the air, its blade catching the moonlight like a grinning mouth full of silver teeth. Its glowing crimson eyes widened to comical, doll-like circles—too big, too bright, swimming with an eerie, childlike curiosity that made the skin crawl.
"Ooooh, reeeally?" it cooed, its voice a singsong lilt dripping with sticky-sweet suspicion. "Master sent you widdle humans to inspect through his preciousss Treasury House? For cultivation items?" It spun in a slow, dizzy circle, humming a off-key tune—then jerked to a stop, its tip hovering inches from their faces.
"And you saw him? Talked to him?" The Sword’s voice dropped to a whisper, thick with longing and something far darker. "Did he... did he mention me?" A pathetic, whimpering edge crept into its tone—like a forgotten puppy begging for scraps. "Did he say Red Run was his goodest blade? That he missed me?"
Lordi stepped forward, his voice sincere yet measured. "This one encountered Senior Brother Krogh Hanz in the Frigid Sanctum beneath the Ancient Stone Well, deep within the rear mountains. Though he remains bound in secluded cultivation there for now, he spoke of his deep yearning for his Soulbound Spirit Sword. He entrusted me with this task—to examine the Hanz Clan Treasury House, retrieve the cultivation resources he requires, and return his mighty flying sword to him in Frigid Sanctum." His words carried just the right balance of truth and diplomacy, carefully chosen to soothe the sword’s formidable presence.
Donovan’s gaze flicked toward Lordi for only an instant before he continued, his tone unwavering. "I encountered Senior Brother Krogh Hanz in the Ancestral Shrine’s main hall. His orders were just as Junior Brother stated—to inspect the Treasury House." A deliberate pause. "But he also entrusted me with returning his mighty flying sword to him... at the Ancestral Shrine." His voice remained composed, selling their shared deception, yet his eyes held a trace of caution as they lingered on Lordi.
The Sword of Red Run let out a sound like a tea kettle boiling over—a high, shrill "Pbbbbt!" of childish disgust, its blade vibrating with exaggerated indignation.
"Ooooh, you met somebody, alright!" it sang, twirling in a mocking pirouette. "But it wasn’t my master, no no no! That was the Ju-On! The filthy little faker!" Its crimson eyes pulsed like infected wounds, swirling with petulant fury. "It loves playing dress-up, that one! Wriggling into dead skins like a nasty little maggot!"
The Sword suddenly slammed to a halt midair, its tip quivering inches from their eyeballs.
"And now I can’t tell who’s lying!" it wailed, its voice fracturing into a chorus of metallic screeches. "Is it you? Is it Ju-On?" A horrible, wet gurgle bubbled up from its core.
Donovan pressed their advantage, his voice steady and unwavering. "Our orders align—even if one of us encountered a Ju-On imposter, the true Senior Brother Krogh Hanz would still demand the Treasury House be inspected... and certain cultivation items retrieved." His words wove a careful justification, threading their deception into something the sword might accept.