Honkai Star Rail: My Death Feeds Their Madness — Chapter 79

Chapter 79: The Trope of the Master-Defying Disciple is So Compelling

The war-torn surface of Lubuti-VIII lay quiet, suffocating beneath a blanket of ash. A grueling, half-month campaign against five allied tribes of the Abominations of Abundance had finally drawn to a close. Across the blackened trenches, the Cloud Knights methodically cleared the battlefield. Acrid smoke from the Fire Crossbow volleys still clung to the air, refusing to dissipate, mingling with the heavy, metallic stench of fresh blood and charred flesh.

“Don’t you think Jingliu has changed a lot during this expedition?” a young Cloud Knight murmured, his voice barely rising above the dull thud of metal striking meat. He wielded a standard-issue Array Blade, expertly severing the remains of an Abomination at his feet into three distinct pieces to prevent any sudden regeneration.

“She’s changed quite a bit, and in more ways than one. Which aspect are you talking about?” Qianzhi replied. She gave her own weapon a sharp flick, casting a line of dark blood onto the scorched soil.

Their hands never paused. Even in death, the mangled remains of the Borisin and the weaponized beasts they had enslaved exuded a foul, rotting odor that stung the nostrils.

Chen Dong brought his blade down on the corpse beneath his boots once more, ensuring the spine was utterly crushed. “Every aspect, really. But mostly her raw combat power. It’s significantly higher than our last deployment. You could almost say it’s doubled.”

“It’s not just higher. Her rate of improvement is completely absurd,” Qianzhi countered, her brow furrowing. “Think about what she did when the captain ordered a free pursuit.”

Both soldiers fell silent, the same bloody memory flashing through their minds.

Just hours ago, the enemy vanguard had shattered. The captain had issued the order to press the advantage, allowing the frontline units to temporarily break from their rigid defensive formations. The moment the command left the captain’s lips, Jingliu, who had been perfectly synchronized with the squad until then, seemed to snap her tethers. In the blink of an eye, she materialized a hundred meters downrange.

Her slender figure became a blur of silver and crimson, weaving through the routed Abominations. Several flying swords orbited her like predatory birds. Wherever her pale sword-light danced, the desperate, thrashing monsters were reduced to fine mist and scattered fragments.

Even while holding the defensive line earlier, Jingliu had displayed a terrifying habit of carving her targets into several unnecessary pieces. The vanguard bore the heaviest burden in any formation; they could not afford a single breach, nor could they let any stray attacks threaten the long-range artillery units in the rear. Efficiency was paramount. A single, lethal strike to conserve stamina was the golden rule.

Jingliu easily achieved those instant kills. Yet, she always lingered for a fraction of a second, delivering three or four extra, vicious slashes to the already falling corpses.

It felt entirely superfluous. A brutal over-correction.

But since her overkill never broke the formation or hindered her comrades, no one dared voice a complaint. She was simply too fast. In the time it took a veteran knight to swing once, Jingliu’s heavy sword had already cleaved the air four times. She wielded a standard Cloud Knight heavy blade, its edge forged with Lihuo flames capable of melting through inert armor upon contact. A weapon that demanded two hands from a grown man was swung effortlessly in her single grip, bisecting Abominations at the waist with terrifying ease.

Remembering the sheer violence of it, Qianzhi brought her blade down, cleanly decapitating the Abomination at her feet. A thoughtful gleam flickered in her eyes. “I don’t know if it’s just my imagination, but I get the feeling she’s in a terrible mood.”

“Is she?” Chen Dong grunted, kicking a severed limb aside. “She’s always had that iceberg expression. Walking around with a permanent stay-away aura. Though, I have to admit, fighting beside her takes a massive load off our shoulders. Her coordination is flawless.”

“That might be true, but a woman’s intuition is rarely wrong.”

“Uh… bringing intuition into a tactical assessment? Fine. What do you think is causing it?”

Qianzhi leaned in slightly, her tone deadpan. “Based on my years of experience, it has to be romantic frustration. She can’t exactly vent her feelings back on the Luofu. But out here on the battlefield? There’s an endless supply of meatbags to chop up.”

Chen Dong stared at her. “Huh? You’re barely eighteen. What years of experience?”

“You wouldn’t understand. Every time my father goes to mate with my second mother, my other two mothers radiate… an aura exactly like the one Jingliu is giving off right now.”

Chen Dong paused, his blade hovering mid-air. “Your family dynamics are… complicated.”

While the Xianzhou Alliance did not enforce monogamy, strictly regulating only the propagation of their long-life species, this was still a bit much to process.

“Focus,” Qianzhi chided, waving a hand. “This aura stuff sounds mystical, but it’s real. Just look at the news surrounding Jingliu’s Coming-of-Age Ceremony recently.”

“Fair point,” Chen Dong conceded. “When her master, Lord Kagashi of the Valiant Guard, arrived… just one glance from that man was enough to freeze the blood in my veins. His presence was suffocating. I can’t even fathom how many Abominations you have to slaughter to cultivate an aura like that.”

“The Valiant Guard lords are all walking calamities. Don’t get sidetracked,” Qianzhi whispered, her eyes darting around the ash-covered plains. Finding no one in immediate earshot, she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial hush. “I don’t have hard evidence… but I’m going to make a bold guess. Jingliu is in love with her master, Lord Kagashi.”

Chen Dong choked on his own saliva, coughing violently into his gauntlet. “…Aren’t you jumping to extremes?”

“Am I? The trope of the master-defying disciple is incredibly compelling.”

“If anyone hears you say that—”

Before the warning could leave his lips, a sudden, icy dread coiled around their spines.

They turned their heads with agonizing slowness.

A familiar figure stood perfectly still just a few paces away. Jingliu had materialized without a sound. The tip of her heavy sword rested against the scorched earth, thick, dark blood still dripping lazily from the Lihuo-forged edge.

Within the shadow of her helmet, her crimson eyes revealed absolutely nothing. Yet, the sheer weight of her dead, unblinking stare made Qianzhi and Chen Dong’s skin crawl.

Both knights snapped their jaws shut. They immediately lowered their heads, attacking the surrounding corpses with a sudden, frantic burst of speed, working three times faster than before.

For a long, agonizing moment, the only sound on the wind was the wet, rhythmic thud of steel cleaving through dead flesh.

Jingliu watched them in total silence. Finally, without uttering a single syllable, she turned on her heel and walked toward the far edge of the battlefield.

Watching her retreating silhouette from the corner of her eye, Qianzhi let out a shaky exhale. “See?” she breathed, her voice trembling. “I told you there was something wrong with her aura.”

“I told you gossiping was a death wish. We were caught red-handed. Just shut up and work!” Chen Dong hissed, refusing to look up from the dirt.

Being pinned by Jingliu’s seemingly calm gaze had felt infinitely worse than being hunted by a starving pack of Borisin.

No. It was far more terrifying than that.

…On the far side of the blackened plains.

Jingliu slowed her pace, coming to a halt. Her gaze swept over the distant silhouettes of her comrades as they diligently cleared the dead. Beneath her gauntlet, her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword, the leather groaning under the immense pressure.

Unbidden, a vivid, agonizing image forced its way into her mind. A hallucination of her gentle master and that senior woman, their bodies intertwined in the intimate acts of reproduction.

Her breath hitched. She ruthlessly crushed the thought, forcing her mind back to the desolate reality of the battlefield.

The soil beneath her boots was saturated with dark, coagulated blood. Mangled limbs and shattered armor lay strewn across the horizon. Yet, no matter how many monsters she slaughtered, the gnawing, venomous irritation festering in her chest refused to subside.

Jingliu slowly raised her heavy sword. The broad, blood-streaked surface of the blade acted as a dark mirror, reflecting her own eyes.

Something violent and turbulent churned within those crimson depths, an emotion she was deeply afraid to scrutinize.

‘Qianzhi just said that I like my master.’

The concept of liking someone was not foreign to her. Back in the Cloud Knight training camps, countless boys and girls had confessed their affections to her.

But faced with her perpetual silence and glacial expression, the vast majority had wisely chosen to retreat. The stubborn few who persisted were swiftly and brutally dismantled in the sparring ring, their infatuations beaten out of them until they never dared approach her again.

She remembered the flushed faces, the nervous eyes of those who claimed to like her.

But as she stared into the bloody reflection of her own sword, she realized something terrifying.

She had no idea what her own eyes looked like when she gazed at Kagashi.

What exactly did it mean to like someone?

And how much was it supposed to hurt?