Yu Zhiling gazed down at the Central Continent below as the mustard-seed boat sped swiftly over one city after another.
The Central Continent was vast, occupying an absolute position on this landmass. Only one place remained unexplored—the Lingyou Path—solely because of the Unforgotten River surrounding it.
Sitting by the window with a cup of tea in hand, Yu Zhiling felt a faint unease tighten in her chest.
[Ding. The male protagonist has mastered the "Longsword Harmony Technique." Host’s virtue points +50. Current virtue points: 3,650. Keep up the good work.]
Yu Zhiling sighed. She was about to reach four thousand points. Would the system really withhold her memories until then? Though those memories weren’t particularly pleasant, they still offered her clues and hints.
Just then, the cabin door opened. Yu Zhiling looked up to see Mo Zhu stepping inside, sword in hand.
He had been cultivating on the deck—this little disciple of hers was always pushing himself relentlessly.
Yu Zhiling beckoned him over. "Come, sit and rest for a while."
Mo Zhu knelt before her, his dark eyes lingering on her before curving into a faint smile.
Yu Zhiling arched a delicate brow. "What are you smiling about?"
Mo Zhu replied obediently, "Nothing. I’m just happy to see you, Master."
Yu Zhiling kicked him under the table. "Shut up!"
Mo Zhu chuckled but said nothing more, his heart softening as he noticed the faint blush at the tips of her ears. He turned his gaze to the window alongside her.
He could tell Yu Zhiling had been distracted lately—something weighed on her mind. But if she didn’t wish to speak of it, he wouldn’t pry. He respected her choices.
The mustard-seed boat flew toward the Unforgotten River at the western edge of the Central Continent. The closer they got, the darker the surroundings became. Yu Zhiling’s breathing grew slightly uneven, her fingers tightening around the mermaid pearl hanging at her waist. She closed her eyes, steadying herself.
Mo Zhu lit all the lanterns inside the cabin before settling back beside her.
"Master, the area beyond the Unforgotten River is pitch black. It was once demon territory. If you’re afraid, you can tell me."
Yu Zhiling shook her head. "I’m fine."
But her palms were already damp with sweat. In all the Central Continent, only Mo Zhu knew of her fear of the dark—neither the Ying Mountain Sect nor Wu Zhaoyan were aware.
Mo Zhu understood she carried inner demons. He stayed quietly by her side, offering what little comfort he could.
The journey to the Unforgotten River took only a day. Normally, it would have taken three, but their haste—driven by concern for Yun Zhi—had cut the time short.
The Lingyou Path knew no night, only eternal daylight.
But beyond it, the Unforgotten River devoured all light, shrouded in perpetual darkness due to the demonic array hidden beneath its waters.
Wu Zhaoyan stepped off his mustard-seed boat and conjured a small flame for illumination—just enough to see dimly.
The Wu and Yun families had sent reinforcements, totaling around thirty or forty people.
Noticing that Yu Zhiling’s boat remained sealed, Wu Zhaoyan frowned and knocked on the hull. "Yu Zhiling, Mo Zhu, why aren’t you coming out?"
At that moment, the cabin door opened.
Yu Zhiling strode out first, the mermaid pearl at her waist glowing brightly, an orb of light clutched in her hand. She shot Wu Zhaoyan an exasperated look as she descended.
"What’s the rush? We just got here."
Wu Zhaoyan crossed his arms, standing at the forefront of the group. "Isn’t all that light blinding you?"
Yu Zhiling brushed past him, tossing back a defiant, "None of your business."
Still the same unyielding Little Five—Wu Zhaoyan didn’t argue. Instead, he tilted his head up to gaze at Mo Zhu, who had just emerged from the cabin.
The young man carried no lantern, his black robes and hair blending into the darkness. He lifted his eyelids slightly, glancing at Wu Zhaoyan before indifferently looking away, as if the man were beneath his notice.
Wu Zhaoyan’s temper flared again. "You brat."
Mo Zhu was a Tengshe, his serpentine eyes capable of piercing the night. He needed no lantern. With a sweep of his gaze, he found Yu Zhiling—the brightest presence among them, quite literally.
At her waist hung a priceless mermaid pearl, while in her hand dangled an illumination orb worth a hundred thousand spirit stones. The radiance around her was almost blinding.
Mo Zhu sidestepped Wu Zhaoyan and approached Yu Zhiling, positioning himself at her side.
"Master, this is the River of No Return."
Yu Zhiling pressed her crimson lips together and leaned over the water, lantern in hand.
The moment she neared the surface, an icy sting pierced her bones. The entire river seethed with demonic energy, tendrils of black mist clinging to her palm—only to be devoured the instant they touched her spiritual power.
"There’s an array beneath," she murmured. "To cleave the riverbed, I’ll need to disable it temporarily. Otherwise, even if we split the banks, the barrier will still block our passage."
But deactivating the array meant diving into the lightless, frigid depths.
Gritting her teeth, Yu Zhiling handed the illumination orb to Mo Zhu. "Wait here. I’ll go down."
"No need for you." A voice cut in from behind. Wu Zhaoyan strode forward. "The water’s too cold. I’ll do it."
Yu Zhiling arched a brow. "Do you even know what kind of array it is?"
Wu Zhaoyan shrugged with infuriating honesty. "No clue. My mastery of arrays and sigils has always been lacking—you know that."
She actually hadn’t known. The urge to roll her eyes was nearly overwhelming.
"It’s a Dust Particle Array. The slightest disturbance—a single grain shifting—will trigger it. The moment you enter the water, it’ll activate. My master must’ve struggled to bypass it years ago. This array annihilates anyone attempting to cross. And you—" She gestured at him. "—reek of righteousness. Demonic arrays despise that."
Wu Zhaoyan barked a laugh. "As if you don’t radiate virtue too. Think the array will welcome you with open arms?"
Yu Zhiling thumped her chest. "I’m more durable than you."
A cultivator’s body was tempered through tribulation lightning. Having survived her Heavenly Tribulation, her physique far surpassed Wu Zhaoyan’s Great Ascension realm.
His expression darkened. "Did losing your memories fry your brain too?"
Without waiting for her furious retort, he began unfastening his outer robe, marching toward the riverbank. "It’s just some flesh wounds. Tell me where the array’s core is."
"I’ll go."
The interruption came from Mo Zhu. He pressed the illumination orb back into Yu Zhiling’s hand and undid his own belt. "My true form has resilient scales. Ordinary arrays can’t harm me."
Even the most lethal Eight Blades Killing Array could only hold him for fifteen minutes.
Wu Zhaoyan frowned. "You’re just a common snake demon. How tough can your scales really be? Don’t be reckless."
Mo Zhu ignored him, taking off his outer robe and handing it to Yu Zhiling before bending down to cup her face. Seeing her still dazed, he couldn’t help but smile faintly.
"Master, I’m going down. It’ll be fine. Wait for me to come back."
His tall frame completely shielded Yu Zhiling from view. Wu Zhaoyan only saw him lean down but didn’t catch what passed between them. Yet the sight of the two together inexplicably pricked at his heart.
"Mo Zhu, I told you it’s unnecessary."
Mo Zhu never listened to Wu Zhaoyan—only to his master’s orders.
He flipped over the edge and plunged into the Unforgotten River, swift as a shadow. Before anyone could react, the young man’s figure was swallowed by the churning, ink-black waters.
Yu Zhiling blinked, then suddenly lunged forward. "Mo Zhu!"
But there was nothing to see except the endless, abyssal darkness of the river.
The black water seemed capable of devouring everything, hiding unspeakable horrors beneath its surface. Just the sight of it made her chest tighten with dread. She had always feared the dark, the unknown lurking within it, and now her breath came in shallow gasps.
Yet Yu Zhiling knew—her frantic heartbeat wasn’t solely from fear of the darkness.
Wu Zhaoyan frowned. "Why did he jump in without a word? Can your disciple handle this alone? Should I go after him?"
Yu Zhiling took a deep breath and shook her head, clutching Mo Zhu’s robe and the luminescent pearl tighter against her chest.
"No need. He can manage."
The moment Mo Zhu submerged, he knew he’d made the right choice in keeping Yu Zhiling away.
No matter how Fuchun had descended to deactivate the array, for any cultivator at the Tribulation Transcendence stage, diving into a river and dismantling a demonic formation shouldn’t be difficult.
But for Yu Zhiling, this place would have been hell.
An endless void of black. The water stabbed like ice, suffocating and lightless. Beyond the currents brushing his skin and the demonic energy seeping into his bones, he sensed nothing.
Mo Zhu shifted into his true form—a majestic, serpentine Tengu—and surged toward the riverbed. The corrosive winds scraped against his scales, but the array’s assault couldn’t breach his defenses yet.
The Wisp Array. He recognized it. Mo Zhu had studied extensively, dabbling in all disciplines, and knew exactly where the core lay.
Streaking through the depths, he soon spotted the circular formation embedded in the riverbed.
Such arrays couldn’t be destroyed, only temporarily disabled. The shutdown mechanism sat at the intersection of the eastern and western trigrams. As Mo Zhu neared the core, half his scales had already shattered, fragments drifting like snow into the abyss below.
Channeling his spiritual energy, he struck the array. Just as he prepared to force the core into dormancy, a blinding eruption of light exploded outward.
The murky river erupted with a radiant glow from below, illuminating the entire surface. On the shore, Yu Zhiling, who had been waiting anxiously, shot to her feet and rushed to the water’s edge, fingers unconsciously twisting the black robe in her arms.
The warmth from Mo Zhu’s body had long faded from the fabric. He’d been gone too long.
A crowd of dozens swarmed the riverbank. Wu Zhaoyan moved to Yu Zhiling’s side, glancing at her furrowed brow before murmuring reassurance.
"Don’t worry. He’ll be fine."
Yu Zhiling forced a hum in response—whether to him or herself, even she couldn’t tell.
Wu Zhaoyan’s gaze dropped to her hands, still locked around Mo Zhu’s robe. Her knuckles had gone white.
The discomfort in his heart grew increasingly apparent. He sensed something was amiss, especially when recalling the way that young man looked at her and the intimacy between them. As a man, he could tell—those were unmistakable signs of infatuation.
At first, he hadn’t panicked, believing Yu Zhiling would never stoop to a mere snake demon. She was the Central Continent’s revered immortal, a prodigy of her generation—how could she possibly be with a demon?
But now, it seemed he had been wrong.
Wu Zhaoyan’s lips pressed into a thin line, his hand unconsciously clenching at his side. His gaze remained fixed on Yu Zhiling, taking in every trace of worry and unease in her expression.
The water’s surface rippled as someone emerged from the river.
"Mo Zhu!"
Yu Zhiling hastily leaned forward, extending her hand. Mo Zhu glanced up at her outstretched fingers, then silently took hold, letting her pull him ashore.
Under the glow of the luminous pearl, the young man’s face was unnaturally pale, his body marred with countless gashes that oozed blood. His dark hair dripped with water, droplets rolling down his brow to his jawline.
Yu Zhiling’s heart ached at the sight. She quickly grasped his wrist. "Let me dry you off. Are you cold? Was it too dark down there?"
He looked dazed, as if in shock—his eyes met hers, but his gaze was unfocused, his wounds still bleeding. Just seeing him like this made her chest tighten.
Her urgency did not escape Wu Zhaoyan’s notice. A deeper sense of unease settled over him, the unsettling feeling that something had slipped away unnoticed.
Yu Zhiling was too preoccupied drying Mo Zhu’s damp skin to notice the faint redness creeping into the corners of his eyes or the lingering traces of dark scales along his neck.
"Shizun."
She responded softly, "What’s wrong? Were you frightened?"
As if Mo Zhu could ever be afraid—he feared neither darkness nor pain.
His eyes locked onto hers, her reflection still bright and alive within them.
Then, fragments of an unfamiliar memory surfaced in his mind, much like what he had seen in the Endless Sword Realm—visions that did not belong to him.
Suddenly, the young man leaned in, cupping her face between his hands. His thumb brushed her cheek as he spoke in a rush, his words frantic.
"Shizun, you must never leave me. No matter what you see inside, you have to stay by my side."
The intimacy of the gesture might have gone unnoticed by others, but Wu Zhaoyan, standing directly opposite them, saw everything.
He stepped forward, gripping Mo Zhu’s wrist with a cold, commanding tone. "Mo Zhu, let go. She is your shizun."
Mo Zhu lifted his gaze to meet Wu Zhaoyan’s. Despite being only seventeen, he already stood at the same height—and he was still growing.
His dark eyes flickered, pupils narrowing into slits as he glared back. "So what?"
The cultivators from the Wu and Yun families sensed the tension, quietly dispersing.
Wu Zhaoyan tightened his grip, nearly crushing Mo Zhu’s wrist. "Such insolence! She is beyond your reach!"
Mo Zhu wrenched his hand free, wiping his wrist as if disgusted. "Unlike you, clinging to propriety and hesitating for years? Just because you’ve stayed stagnant doesn’t mean others have—"
His voice turned sharp, cold as shattered ice. "Nor does it mean she has to wait for you."
Yu Zhiling was getting a headache. She raised her hand between the two of them and snapped, "Shut up!"
Wu Zhaoyan's lips parted slightly. "Yu Xiao Wu!"
Yu Zhiling cut him off. "You shut up!"
Mo Zhu, his expression cold, began, "Shizun, I—"
Yu Zhiling didn’t let him finish. "You too, shut up!"
Her mood was already frayed, and she had no patience to deal with two bickering juniors. Cutting them off, she noticed neither was willing to back down, which only fueled her irritation. Without another word, she quickly dried Mo Zhu’s inner robe and hair with a spell, then tossed his outer robe at him.
"Go change. I’ll set up a spatial barrier for you."
"Mm. Alright."
Mo Zhu’s reply was brief.
Yu Zhiling cast a concealment barrier around him, ensuring no one could see him.
In the darkness, Mo Zhu stripped off his damp clothes, cast a full-body cleansing spell, and changed into fresh attire. The waterlogged garments, now tainted with demonic energy, were useless—he incinerated them with a flick of his fingers.
After meticulously fastening his outer robe and securing his belt, he called out calmly, "Shizun, I’m done."
Yu Zhiling dispelled the barrier and glanced over. Her disciple stood before her, neat and composed as always—black robes, high ponytail, his signature look.
She didn’t engage him further, turning instead toward the riverbank.
Mo Zhu spared Wu Zhaoyan, who still had his back turned, not a single word before following Yu Zhiling.
By the river, Yu Zhiling studied the terrain. Once the barrier closed, they’d have roughly three quarters of an hour before it reactivated. To cleave the river in one strike, she needed the most efficient technique—anything less would be a waste of spiritual energy.
Splitting a river was no small feat.
"Shizun, have you decided on a method?"
Yu Zhiling mused, "Frostwind Slash is out of the question. For sheer explosive force, the only viable options are Shatter the Stars, Frostwhirl, or Savage Blade."
Mo Zhu paused, then countered, "Shatter the Stars’ range is too narrow—it won’t cut across a hundred-mile-wide river. Frostwhirl is the same, better suited for close combat. And Savage Blade’s area of effect is too vast. If unleashed, the less experienced disciples might suffer collateral damage."
He analyzed each technique meticulously, weighing whether they could truly part the deep, sprawling river and carve a safe path for the disciples.
His concerns mirrored Yu Zhiling’s. The Jade Refinement Sect had no shortage of techniques, but none guaranteed success in a single strike.
Not only did she need to split the Unforgotten River, but she also had to sustain the parted waters with her spiritual energy, creating a passage for the disciples. And once they crossed, she’d still need a way to follow.
Swimming was out of the question. The river’s waters brimmed with demonic energy—prolonged exposure would corrode both body and spiritual roots, inviting possession. For someone like her, already grappling with inner demons, it was an unacceptable risk.
"No, there’s one more," Yu Zhiling said suddenly. "Cloudsever."
She pointed at the vast river. "Cloudsever’s momentum is unbroken, ideal for long-range strikes. I’ll cleave straight to the opposite bank, using my spiritual energy to erect barriers on either side. All of you can cross through the path I carve."
Mo Zhu asked, "And after we’ve all crossed?"
Yu Zhiling’s willow-thin brows furrowed slightly as she said calmly, "The river channel needs to be sustained by my spiritual energy. After all of you cross, I will use Juan Han Shuang to temporarily freeze the Unforgetting River. Though it will last no more than half a quarter-hour, it should hold long enough for us to get across. It’ll be fine."
She had arranged everything meticulously, as if this were the best solution possible.
Behind her, cultivators gathered, murmuring in agreement.
"Indeed, if Immortal Venerable Zhuoyu says it can be done, then it surely can."
"She’s a Transcendent Realm cultivator—of course she can manage this."
"Don’t worry, young friend. It’ll be alright."
They all believed Yu Zhiling could do it, as though there was nothing beyond her capabilities.
Mo Zhu suppressed the unease in his heart and stepped silently closer to her as Yu Zhiling drew her sword, preparing to cleave the river.
The disciples retreated. The residual pressure of a Transcendent Realm cultivator’s lethal technique was too overwhelming for ordinary cultivators to endure—keeping their distance was the wisest choice.
Yu Zhiling set down the lantern she had been carrying. The luminous pearl at her waist glowed brighter the darker it became. Raising her sword, she channeled spiritual energy into the blade. The force of her aura whipped her robes into a frenzy, her black hair swirling wildly behind her. Her killing intent swept through like a winter gale—cold, sharp, and unrelenting.
Holding her sword horizontally, she took a half-step back. Spiritual energy coalesced into a swirling gale, pouring into the blade. Even without seeing her expression, one could imagine the solemnity etched across her face—the same face renowned as the most peerless in the Central Continent.
The oppressive aura made their chests ache. Wu Zhaoyan, noticing the disciples behind him paling, raised a hand to cast a protective barrier around them. As a Great Ascension Realm cultivator, he remained unaffected by Yu Zhiling’s pressure, but the disciples would never withstand it.
Yet Mo Zhu, standing closest to Yu Zhiling, remained unmoved. Even as her crushing aura bore down on him, he stayed near her, unwavering.
Watching her. Admiring her.
And then—she struck.
Liu Yun Duan Shui.
The sword light gathered into a surging cloud, soaring skyward with ruthless, unyielding force. A single slash split the tranquil river surface, and in an instant, towering waves erupted, cresting dozens of zhang high.
The sword’s radiance tore through the river, carving a path forward without resistance. The channel widened as the waters were forced apart, suspended on either side by an invisible force—like twin walls of water frozen mid-fall.
Witnessing the gap between their abilities once more, Mo Zhu pressed his lips together. He knew it would take him a long, long time to catch up to her.
"Cross now!" Yu Zhiling commanded sharply.
Wu Zhaoyan quickly urged the disciples, "Hurry! Move fast!"
Without a word, the Yun and Wu clans’ disciples dashed along the channel Yu Zhiling had opened, teleporting toward the opposite shore.
Wu Zhaoyan followed close behind. As he passed Yu Zhiling, he glanced at her—but she did not look back.
Her brow was furrowed, her face slightly pale. Splitting open a river of unknown width and holding a path for the disciples drained her spiritual energy like a bursting dam.
Wu Zhaoyan averted his gaze and vanished across the river in a blink.
Yu Zhiling turned to Mo Zhu. "Go!"
Without hesitation, Mo Zhu followed Wu Zhaoyan.
The river channel was long and wide—so vast that even teleportation took a quarter-hour to traverse. It stretched hundreds of li, far broader than he had imagined.
The river water tainted with demonic energy was firmly held aloft on both sides, not allowing a single drop to touch the disciples.
Mo Zhu reached the opposite bank and immediately turned to stare at the river’s surface. The dark waters were gradually freezing over from the other side, the path between the two banks now encased in ice—a clear sign that Yu Zhiling was making her way toward them.
His heart pounded fiercely, his hands clenched tightly at his sides as he fixed his gaze on the end of the frozen path, willing her figure to appear sooner. She had already expended too much spiritual energy, and now, with the additional effort of freezing the river’s surface, she must be utterly drained.
The ice showed signs of thawing. Mo Zhu hastily channeled his spiritual power to reinforce it, but even at the peak of his Nascent Soul cultivation, his strength could barely sustain it for ten breaths.
Wu Zhaoyan stepped forward, forming a seal with his hands as his spiritual energy surged forth, refreezing the crumbling path. "Hold the line! Wait for Zhuo Yu to arrive!"
The disciples responded in unison, "Yes!"
Most disciples were proficient in basic freezing arrays, but the sheer expanse of the river and the endless demonic energy within its waters—which devoured spiritual power—meant that only half of their usual strength could be utilized.
A full quarter-hour passed, and still, no figure emerged from the other end of the path.
Wu Zhaoyan’s face had paled. He muttered under his breath, "Why hasn’t she arrived yet? At her speed and cultivation level, she should have been here by now—Mo Zhu!"
Before he could finish, the black-robed youth who had been maintaining the array vanished, leaping into the riverbed and sprinting toward the opposite shore.
"Mo Zhu, have you lost your mind?!"
Wu Zhaoyan instinctively moved to chase after him, but the moment he loosened his grip, the sound of cracking ice echoed through the air. The array couldn’t hold without him, forcing him to stay rooted in place.
Mo Zhu dashed forward, teleporting in bursts, with no time to consider when the suspended waters might come crashing down. The riverbed’s formation was on the verge of reactivating, and if she hadn’t arrived in all this time, something must have delayed her.
The thought had barely formed when a figure in flowing green robes streaked toward him from the opposite bank—her jade-like features cold and stern, her pupils contracting the moment she saw him. She seized his wrist.
"Move! Who told you to come here?!"
Before Mo Zhu could react, she dragged him into a teleportation leap. As they reappeared further along the path, he glanced back toward the direction she had come from.
Countless shadowy figures pursued them, their forms indistinct—only twisted, humanoid shapes with crimson eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Had these things been what held her back?
Yu Zhiling’s expression was grim, her face ashen from exhaustion. Overusing her spiritual energy and enduring a brutal fight had left her barely able to lift her feet.
The grip on Mo Zhu’s wrist loosened as she faltered—only for him to suddenly reverse their hold, clasping her hand tightly and pulling her into another teleportation sprint.
With him leading the way, Yu Zhiling no longer had to exert herself. She blinked in surprise before quickly regaining her composure, tightening her fingers around his and letting him take control. Finally, she had the chance to look back.
Those things chasing them were demon wraiths—vile creatures born in places thick with demonic energy, feeding on human flesh and blood.
The depths of the Unforgotten River harbored swarms of them, lying dormant in the southeastern corner. Mo Zhu, being of demonic descent, hadn’t sensed them earlier—demon wraiths had no interest in demons.
Had Wu Zhaoyan been the one to descend instead, he would have been instantly surrounded by the awakening horde.
As dozens of human cultivators crossed the river, the thick scent of living beings was enough to awaken the slumbering demonic fiends. Yu Zhiling had barely taken a few steps when she found herself surrounded by the creatures bursting through the ice from all directions.
The fierce battle took considerable effort—these things wouldn’t die unless beheaded, and their numbers were beyond estimation. She fought her way out, hacking through the horde.
The solid ice on either side cracked, river water seeping through the fissures. Mo Zhu raised a protective barrier, shielding Yu Zhiling from the encroaching water as countless demonic fiends howled and chased behind them.
Then, they saw light.
Beyond the Unforgetting River lay the Path of Lingering Spirits—a place without night, only eternal day.
At the end of the path, Wu Zhaoyan spotted two figures sprinting toward him.
"Yu Zhiling!"
Mo Zhu leaped ashore with Yu Zhiling in his arms.
The moment their feet touched solid ground, the ice wall shattered. The river surged forward, its demonic waters swallowing the pursuing fiends whole.
The disciples watched as the submerged creatures floated in the current, their crimson eyes fixed hungrily on those on the shore—a sight that sent chills down their spines.
"Are those… demonic fiends of the demon clan?"
"Why aren’t they coming ashore? What’s stopping them?"
"Fiends fear light. Exposure would turn them to ashes."
Just as demons thrived in darkness, so too did the fiends they bred.
Yu Zhiling exhaled in relief, her legs trembling as if she had run a hundred laps. Her face was deathly pale.
Wu Zhaoyan frowned, stepping forward to offer his shoulder, but before he could act, Yu Zhiling had already leaned comfortably against Mo Zhu.
"Let me rest on you. Hold still."
Her tone was as domineering as ever—issuing commands without a shred of hesitation.
Yet Mo Zhu simply nodded. "Alright."
He steadied himself, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, letting her weight press fully against him.
The ease between them was unmistakable. With just a glance from Yu Zhiling, Mo Zhu seemed to know exactly what she needed.
Wu Zhaoyan realized with painful clarity—Yu Zhiling hadn’t waited for anyone.
In matters of the heart, there was no such thing as first come, first served. His hesitation, his prideful reluctance, had cost him.
Someone else had already claimed the prize.
