A Match Made in Heaven (Part 1)

"It is all your fault. It is all your fault, not the moon's. What are you, what are you, what on earth are you?"

These were dialogues common between young lovers, but they rarely appeared between Ning Que and Sang Sang, whether they were teenagers, master and servant in name, or husband and wife later on.

When Sang Sang said those words, her face was expressionless, devoid of resentment or coquettishness, as if she were merely stating an objective fact. Yet Ning Que felt she was complaining, acting coquettishly with him. His heart trembled, filled with immense sorrow, aching terribly for her.

He did not know how to answer. Fresh blood constantly dripped from the sword blade and his palm, emitting a *drip-drop* sound, like the clock of that other world, urging him to do something to comfort her. He looked toward the Drunkard, his expression calm as if he felt no pain, but his gaze contained a resolute, murderous intent.

The Drunkard had first ambushed and stabbed Eldest Senior Brother, then stabbed Sang Sang. The two people he respected and loved most had both been heavily injured by his hand. He did not know how much longer Sang Sang could hold on. Since Xia Hou's death, Ning Que had never yearned to kill someone as much as he did now.

The Drunkard did not seem to sense his gaze. He laughed wildly, his features contorting. "Do you see? She... she is truly finished."

Along with the contortion of his face, the sword in his hand also twisted. Ning Que's palm was sliced with a large wound, blood flowing even more violently like a torrent. He did not know how many swords were hidden within that wine gourd. Each was the Drunkard's natal sword, tempered in strong liquor for countless years, so sharp that even his own body could hardly withstand them.

Ning Que drew the iron blade from behind his shoulder, slashing toward the Drunkard. Before the blade tip was the brilliant and pure Haotian Divine Light. A stream of strong liquor sprayed from the gourd at the Drunkard's waist, forming a thick waterfall that extinguished the divine light on the blade. The Drunkard said coldly, "Do you think you can still injure me?"

Ning Que did not reply, lowering his left shoulder to support the staggering Sang Sang. The Drunkard's sword ground against his palm, slowly piercing deeper into Sang Sang's body. Her blood flowed increasingly, dripping onto the exquisite talisman lines on the ground. The talisman array was about to activate.

"It is too late. Go to your deaths." The Drunkard stopped laughing, his gaze cold, filled with murderous intent and mockery.

Ning Que's hand slid along the sharp blade, moving like lightning. The sound of the sword slicing flesh and severing bone was horrifying. His hand was as hard as iron, making the sound even more terrifying. His eyes were red like a wild beast's as he stared at the Drunkard. His hand tightly gripped the Drunkard's hand. At some point, a small iron box had appeared in his palm.

With a dull *boom*, a shockwave erupted in the secret chamber. A terrifying explosion occurred between Ning Que's hand and the Drunkard's. Countless sharp iron fragments flew in all directions, tearing apart all flesh and bone they touched. A miserable, venomous wail echoed. The four surrounding walls collapsed entirely.

Ning Que's hand was a bloody mess, no longer resembling a human hand. The Drunkard was even worse; his hand had been blown away completely. Losing his hand, he could not hold his sword, and could not stab deeper into Sang Sang. The Drunkard's face was pale as he trembled, blood spraying continuously from his right wrist. He had never been so heavily injured. He cherished his life deeply, valuing a single strand of hair more than the world, yet now he had lost a hand!

"I will kill you." He looked at Ning Que, his expression cold but his gaze wild. He used his left hand to draw another sword from the gourd. Ning Que's perception was depleted, and he had no strength left to fight, but he had to fight. He looked at the sword stabbed into Sang Sang's belly. The hilt was still stained with the Drunkard's flesh. A stream of liquor fell from the sky, washing the sword clean, making it shine like new.

"Do you wish to use the disgusting secret arts of the Ming Sect? Dream on!" the Drunkard said coldly. With a *swoosh*, the sword stabbed into Ning Que's left chest. Although it did not pierce through, it heavily injured his lungs. Ning Que coughed up blood in pain, but he felt joy. For he sensed the violent shift in the Qi of Heaven and Earth beneath his feet—the talisman array had officially activated.

A silver-blue light arose from the talisman lines on the ground, enveloping Ning Que, Sang Sang, the Big Black Horse, and the Green Lion Dog. The Drunkard's face shifted. His left hand swung the sword in a circle around Ning Que, stabbing straight toward the space between Sang Sang's eyebrows! Ning Que was exhausted, and Sang Sang had to lean on his shoulder to stand. Who could stop this full-force strike from the Drunkard?

No one could stop it, but it could be interrupted. A majestic, solemn lion's roar echoed through Helan City! The Green Lion turned into a blue light, violently slamming into the side of the sword! Two black shadows kicked hard against the Drunkard's chest and belly! The Drunkard missed his strike, took a heavy blow, and groaned as he retreated three steps! At this moment, the silver-blue light shone brilliantly, and the figures within began to fade.

The Drunkard's face was completely devoid of color. He knew well what the consequences would be if he let Haotian leave. He could not allow himself to miss this opportunity. A long whistle tore through the secret chamber, soaring straight into the sky. The Drunkard's figure suddenly grew ten thousand times larger! Continuous explosions echoed, and the entire Helan City collapsed amidst billowing dust.

The Tang army that had just retreated from the city looked back at this scene that resembled a divine punishment, stunned into silence. Half a day later, the dust finally settled. The majestic Helan City was now a desolate ruin. The teleportation array had been destroyed along with the city, and no survivors could be seen.

...

Sang Sang looked at the surrounding murals, finding them very familiar. After a moment, she recalled that the golden dragon divine generals on them were all divine miracles manifested by her will in the mortal world. This was a Daoist hall. The Big Black Horse and the Green Lion Dog were beside her, but Ning Que was nowhere to be seen.

She looked at the points of light in the air, confirming she was in a Daoist hall in the capital of the Song Kingdom. The Song Kingdom was the origin of the Daoist Sect, so it indeed had a secret teleportation array. She pinched her fingers to calculate, knowing that her failure to return straight to Chang'an was due to the Drunkard's final strike disrupting the natural primary Qi. Ning Que was not here for the same reason, but sensing he was safe, her heart eased.

Suddenly, she frowned, waves of pain coming from her belly. It was not from the sword wound, but from deep within. She sat tiredly on the ground, her face pale and cold, her eyes that were once like the starry sky now filled with confusion and anxiety. The Green Lion Dog paced anxiously around its master. The Big Black Horse was extremely tense. Having lived with humans for so long, it knew its mistress was about to give birth. It neighed loudly and rushed out of the hall.

At this moment, clamor and rapid footsteps echoed outside. Sang Sang leaned against a pillar, drenched in sweat. The wound on her belly combined with the labor pains made her suffer immensely.

"Who is there?" Over a dozen priests and deacons entered the hall. They were shocked to see a bloody, heavily pregnant woman sitting in the solemn main hall. Thinking of the growing New Sect and the notion that a parturient woman's blood was filthy, they believed they had seen the truth: the New Sect wished to humiliate Haotian!

"Fiend!" an old priest scolded furiously, rushing forward. "I must burn you to death! You shameless wench!" Sang Sang struggled to open her eyes, looking at the people surrounding her with fierce expressions. Only after a moment did she understand they were scolding her. She remained silent. She was very familiar with this Daoist hall; the divine hall in the Divine Kingdom had been built according to this model. She was very familiar with priests; she had received the worship of countless generations of priests. She had once thought humans were her most devout believers. Now, she lay here bloody, being insulted by them with filthy words.

Indeed, she was no longer Haotian.

A lion's roar shook the Daoist hall. The Green Lion turned into a massive beast, staring at the Daoists, waiting for its master's command. The priests had never seen such a sight. Terrified, they fell to the ground, their legs too weak to stand. Sang Sang closed her eyes, not saying a word. The Green Lion understood her meaning, no longer paying attention to the people crawling and fleeing outside.