The courtyard gate was tightly shut, leaving Yun Zhi waiting outside. The villagers of Jinghong Village gathered around him, their numbers overwhelming the usually reserved Yun Zhi, who averted his gaze uncomfortably.
“Are you that girl’s… cultivation partner?”
“Right? That’s what they call it in the Central Continent, isn’t it?”
Yun Zhi hastily shook his head. “No, absolutely not. We’re just friends.”
An elderly man retorted, “There’s no such thing as a purely platonic friendship between a man and a woman. You must have feelings for her.”
Yun Zhi sighed, defending both his and Yu Zhiling’s reputations. “No, we really are just friends. We grew up together since childhood.”
“So you don’t like her?”
Yun Zhi denied it. “I do, but not in that way.”
A villager in coarse linen clothes chimed in, “But that girl is so beautiful. How could you not like her?”
Yun Zhi’s cheeks flushed. Aside from Xiao Wu, no one had ever teased him like this before, and now even the tips of his ears burned red.
“I… I don’t have feelings for any woman. Xiao Wu is beautiful, and many people admire her.”
The villagers seemed endlessly curious about the outside world, bombarding Yun Zhi with questions. Surrounded by them, he grew increasingly uneasy. These were ghosts, their heavy yin energy seeping into his already frail body, leaving him visibly paler.
Finally, an elderly woman noticed his discomfort and sighed. “Step back, everyone. Let him be.”
Yun Zhi stiffly nodded in apology. “Forgive me, Grandma Li. My health isn’t the best.”
Grandma Li, seated on a small stool, sighed. “You carry more yin energy than that girl, and you look chronically ill. Has it always been this way?”
“Yes. My mother was poisoned while pregnant with me. Though the poison was later purged, I was afflicted by a demonic toxin ten years ago, and my body has never fully recovered.”
At the mention of demons, Grandma Li’s expression darkened. A child in her arms burst into frightened sobs, burying his face against her chest.
Yun Zhi could guess how this village had met its fate. From their elevated vantage point, the neat rows of houses stretched below, a testament to the peaceful life that once thrived here.
The demonic creatures lurking in Wanghe River were likely remnants left behind by the Demon Lord who had fled the Central Continent after slaughtering Jinghong Village.
“Did the demon ever mention his name?”
Grandma Li clutched her grandson tightly, her voice trembling with hatred. “There were two of them. One was a woman, called something like ‘Zi.’ The other wore a hood—a man of terrifying power, far stronger than Ying. His name was—”
She frowned, struggling to recall. “What was it again?”
Years of death had dulled their memories. They had waited so long for justice, pretending to live normal lives, that even they began to question whether they were truly dead.
The child in her arms piped up, “Grandma, you’ve said it many times. The bad man was called You Zhou.”
Yun Zhi’s brow furrowed. “You Zhou?”
The little boy wiped his grandmother’s tears. “You Zhou. That bad uncle threw me to my death.”
Grandma Li’s memory sharpened, and she hugged the child, weeping. “My poor grandson…”
Yun Zhi said nothing more, his gaze lowering. The boy couldn’t have been older than five or six, clinging to his grandmother—his parents’ souls likely hadn’t even survived.
The people of Jinghong Village were blessed by the Celestial Lotus, born with spiritual power far surpassing ordinary Central Continent cultivators. Even in death, as long as a wisp of their souls remained, their spiritual energy preserved them as Ming ghosts.
The barrier outside the village was a mystery—perhaps left to shield them from discovery or to guard against the Demon Lord’s return. Even Yun Zhi, despite his cultivation, couldn’t break it. Yu Zhiling, a Tribulation Transcension cultivator, had to exert seventy percent of her strength to shatter it in one strike.
Yun Zhi exhaled silently, listening to Grandma Li’s quiet sobs. No one could remain unmoved by such tragedy, but there was little he could do.
Unlike the outside world, Jinghong Village had nightfall—a small, isolated realm of its own.
From noon until stars dotted the sky, Yun Zhi waited until the courtyard gate finally creaked open.
Yu Zhiling strode out confidently, arching a brow at the sight of him. “You’ve been sitting here all day?”
Yun Zhi stood. “Yes. Waiting for you.”
“Where are the villagers?”
“They’ve returned home. They still keep to their routines.”
Rising with the sun, resting at dusk.
“Will you two be leaving now?”
It was Ying who spoke.
Yu Zhiling turned and bowed. “Yes. My disciple and friend are outside, and You Zhou may have already found them. I must go.”
Ying glanced at Yun Zhi, murmuring, “Do you know where the Celestial Lotus Sanctuary is?”
“I do.” Yu Zhiling nodded. “You used a Celestial Lotus on me… I can faintly sense its presence now.”
Ying lowered her head. “Good. Go, then. Be careful.”
Her voice was heavy with reluctance, and Yu Zhiling heard it clearly. But she couldn’t stay.
Yu Zhiling and Yun Zhi bowed in farewell before descending the stone steps. As they passed each house, faces peered from windows, waving at them—ghosts didn’t need sleep.
From Rong’s memories, Yu Zhiling recognized many of them, even recalling their names.
She didn’t linger, walking briskly until they reached a small courtyard with three adjoining houses. Its gate was locked, the yard untouched by weeds, silent and empty.
Yun Zhi asked, “Should we go in?”
Yu Zhiling shook her head. “No. We must save the others first. We’ll return.”
One last glance at the courtyard—this was where Rong and Ying Chen had married. In the fleeting memories, most of their happiness had unfolded here, in this modest home where they had raised a child together.
Yu Zhiling turned away, striding toward the village exit without looking back.
Yun Zhi spoke softly, “There’s more we should discuss later, but You Zhou has a woman by his side—a trusted subordinate. She’s only at the Nascent Soul stage. I severed one of her hands, but she…”
He hesitated, his gaze lingering on Yu Zhiling’s face.
Yu Zhiling continued walking, her voice steady. “She dresses like I used to, doesn’t she?”
Yun Zhi replied, "A hibiscus-colored dress, a begonia hairpin at the brow, and striking makeup. Though you look nothing alike, the way she was adorned... the moment I saw her, I was reminded of you from the past ten years."
Yu Zhiling's expression remained calm as she nodded. "I understand. There are things I don’t need to say—you’ve probably already guessed. Did you ever suspect me back then?"
Yun Zhi’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His silence conveyed his answer.
How could he not have suspected?
Anyone close to Yu Zhiling would have quickly noticed something amiss. In the Central Continent, where soul usurpation was a forbidden art, suspicion would naturally fall on possession—everyone would scramble for proof.
Yet no evidence was ever found. Attempt after attempt, even divine artifacts were employed. But Yu Zhiling remembered everything about herself, and a usurped soul couldn’t retain the original’s memories. If possession was impossible, how else could it be proven?
"Back then, you said you wanted to focus on cultivation, to ascend as soon as possible, and asked us not to disturb you. In those years, I only saw you two or three times. Then, suddenly, you announced you were going into seclusion."
Yu Zhiling listened to these words with unsettling composure. "Do you think I was really in seclusion?"
Yun Zhi shook his head. "No. The one who claimed to be in seclusion... that person likely wasn’t cultivating at all. It was just an excuse to do something else. But then you reappeared out of nowhere..."
Yu Zhiling had emerged abruptly, inside the very cave where she was supposed to be secluded.
So... was it possession? Or something else?
At this, Yu Zhiling recalled her first meeting with Yun Zhi—within the Four Killings Realm.
She smiled faintly. "Months ago, in the Four Killings Realm, I acted completely unlike the person from the past decade. Why didn’t you suspect I’d taken over this body?"
Yun Zhi shook his head again. "You were exactly like Xiao Wu. At the time, I thought you’d simply forgotten the painful memories and reverted to your old self."
Both fell silent. Yu Zhiling clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head as she waited for his answer.
Yun Zhi said, "Even if Xiao Wu remembered nothing, her heart remained pure. The way you looked at me held no malice. Though I was a stranger to you, you didn’t resist my closeness. You were Xiao Wu."
But the person from the past ten years had fiercely resisted anyone from Xiao Wu’s circle. Perhaps afraid of exposure, perhaps simply despising human cultivators—likely the former.
Yu Zhiling lifted her head with a sigh. "Xiao Wu had so many friends."
Yun Zhi missed the implication in her words and smiled. "Because Xiao Wu was a good person. She was loyal, kind, and helped many. That’s why we all wanted to be near her, to be her friend."
Yu Zhiling shrugged and continued walking leisurely. "I’m actually quite nice too."
Yun Zhi replied, "Of course. Xiao Wu has always been good."
Yu Zhiling muttered, "You really are a blockhead."
Yun Zhi chuckled, his voice gentle and unoffended. "You always called me that. Sorry, after all these years, I still haven’t improved."
He was impeccably refined—raised under the strict discipline of the Yun family, his temperament naturally mild, like polished jade. The phrase "noble young master" might as well have been coined for him.
Yu Zhiling stole a glance at him, snorted twice, and said nothing.
Wu Zhaoyan clutched his chest, coughing violently—each hack bringing up a mouthful of blood.
Gripping his blade, he forced himself up, his gaze fixed on the distant figure of the black-clad youth, drenched in blood yet still standing, still fighting.
Even with bones exposed, the boy refused to yield. When his human form could endure no more, he shifted into his demonic form and lunged again, desperately tangling with their foe.
Mo Zhu was sent flying once more. Wu Zhaoyan dashed forward to catch him, gripping his arm. "Stop. We need to retreat. He’s trying to wear us down!"
Mo Zhu wiped blood from his lips, his pupils already slit like a serpent’s.
"He’s at the peak of the Mahayana stage, but something’s wrong with his body. Earlier, I couldn’t feel a heartbeat."
From afar, the young man spoke leisurely. "What’s the matter? Giving up? Might as well die quickly."
Mo Zhu shoved Wu Zhaoyan aside and teleported forward again, his voice icy. "The one who should die is you, You Zhou."
You Zhou tsked. "So rude, calling me by name. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you earlier."
Dark clouds gathered overhead. You Zhou blocked another lethal strike from Mo Zhu and glanced up. "You’re about to face a tribulation... Fighting me for days has actually boosted your cultivation."
Wu Zhaoyan joined the fray. Even for You Zhou, handling both—a Mahayana-stage immortal and a near-indestructible Tengshe—was no easy feat.
But compared to Wu Zhaoyan and Mo Zhu, You Zhou was unnerving. He seemed unkillable.
They, however, bled. They hurt. They could die.
After three days of battle, exhaustion weighed heavily. Mo Zhu knew his tribulation was imminent—and during it, You Zhou would surely strike.
Wu Zhaoyan gritted his teeth. "Mo Zhu, go! I’ll hold him off!"
You Zhou laughed. "Neither of you is leaving. Without Yu Zhiling, the Central Continent is nothing."
"You think quite highly of me."
A woman’s voice drifted lazily from behind.
You Zhou stiffened, but before he could evade, a sword pierced through his chest.
Yu Zhiling gripped his shoulder from behind, yanking him backward and slamming him into a stone cliff.
You Zhou spat black blood, but before he could defend himself, a flash of green—Yu Zhiling teleported before him.
She seized his hair, slamming his head into the rock again and again, until blood streamed down his face.
Yet You Zhou kept laughing. "You’re here! I’ve been waiting. Finally!"
Yu Zhiling smashed his skull against the stone once more, lifting and slamming him down until his face was a mask of blood.
"If you wanted to see me, why not come in person?"
You Zhou’s vision swam red. "You want my true form? Go find it!"
"You want to kill me? I’ll give you plenty of bodies to slaughter!"
Yu Zhiling stood, grinding his bones beneath her foot into the dirt.
"Fine. Then I’ll pull out every bone, one by one. How many souls can you split into avatars? How many lives do you have left? Hide in your gutter—I’ll hunt down every last fragment of you."
You Zhou laughed, wild and unhinged.
Yu Zhiling crushed another bone underfoot, her face cold.
Wu Zhaoyan’s throat tightened as he stared at the distant figure in green.
"Is that... Xiao Wu?"
How could it be Xiao Wu?
The way she dragged a man by his hair, smashing his skull until it bled, the way she crushed his bones without flinching—even the faint pleasure in her eyes. This wasn’t vengeance. Why not just kill him cleanly?
A chuckle sounded beside him.
Wu Zhaoyan turned, horrified. "Mo Zhu, why are you laughing? What is she doing?!"
Mo Zhu wiped the blood from his face with a silk handkerchief, his demeanor calm and indifferent. Without looking up, he said, "Killing someone."
"You can’t torture them like that! She’s shattering his bones—she’s tormenting him!"
Mo Zhu paused, lifting his gaze to meet Wu Zhaoyan’s furious eyes. "She can kill however she pleases. Who she kills and how she kills is her choice. Since when does murder have rules?"
His thunderclouds had fully gathered by then.
Mo Zhu turned and walked away—it was time for him to face his tribulation.
Wu Zhaoyan’s breathing was ragged, his hand trembling so much he could barely hold his blade. In the distance, a figure in green reflected in his eyes. He watched as she expressionlessly crushed bone after bone, her cold face devoid of emotion, only frost. Then, footsteps approached from behind.
The newcomer asked, "Do you know how Immortal Fuchun died?"
Wu Zhaoyan didn’t answer. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Yun Zhi had seen it too. Wu Zhaoyan had expected someone as righteous as Yun Zhi to rush forward and stop her. After all, the way a person killed revealed their state of mind. To them, whether it was Xiao Wu or Zhuo Yu, their personalities might differ, but their hearts remained the same—steadfast on the path of righteousness, clear and unclouded.
Yun Zhi continued without waiting for a response. "Immortal Fuchun had every bone in her body shattered. She was implanted with a demon seed and left to suffer in the snow for three days, not daring to die until Xiao Wu arrived to personally scatter her soul."
"Zhaoyan, we’ve never experienced what they have. We can’t stand on high ground and judge their actions. If it had been Xiao Wu who died back then, what would you have done?"
"If it had been Yu Zhiling whose bones were shattered, if she had been implanted with a demon seed—how would you have reacted?"
Wu Zhaoyan had fought for three days straight. Exhausted and disheveled, he had come looking for Yun Zhi, yet now he looked far worse. His lips trembled, but no words formed.
Yun Zhi lowered his head and shook it. "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth—what’s wrong with that?"
Shatter his bones, crush his soul—why not?
A dozen miles away, thunder erupted, rolling across the sky for miles until it reached them.
The thunderclouds blotted out the sun, casting the world into darkness. The flash of lightning illuminated their faces, and suddenly, Wu Zhaoyan remembered something Yun Zhi had once said:
—Zhaoyan, we’re not youths anymore. Many things are beyond our control.
Yun Zhi looked toward Yu Zhiling in the distance and asked, "Do you know why they brought me to Lingyou Dao?"
Wu Zhaoyan couldn’t bring himself to look at her. His voice was hoarse under the thunder. "To eliminate the three of us and release the demons from the Abyss."
"Not just that." Yun Zhi clasped his hands behind his back, his tone steady. "As I was waking, I overheard them."
—The identity of the Yun family head will make things easier in the Central Continent. Getting close to Yu Zhiling will also be simpler.
Wu Zhaoyan understood immediately. "They wanted to take your place?"
"Yes. Just like they did with Xiao Wu in the past."
Putting the pieces together—Mo Zhu’s earlier conversation with You Zhou—Wu Zhaoyan finally grasped the truth.
"Our suspicions from ten years ago were right… The past decade, it really wasn’t her…"
How could it have been? Even if Xiao Wu had become Zhuo Yu, she would never have harmed those close to her.
Wu Zhaoyan’s blade clattered to the ground. His tall frame hunched over, hands covering his face as tears slipped through his fingers.
"I… I didn’t recognize her… Why didn’t I recognize her? Where is she? Where is she now?"
Yun Zhi gripped his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Don’t dwell on regrets. The past can’t be changed. Now we have a lead—You Zhou does have a method to assume another’s identity. It might be a possession technique, or perhaps he can alter someone’s appearance and steal their memories to deceive us."
"And… this time at Lingyou Dao, it’s not just about killing me. They have another goal."
Wu Zhaoyan turned his head toward the rocky cliffs ahead.
You Zhou laughed maniacally, unbothered even as Yu Zhiling shattered his bones—this was just a clone, after all.
"You’re as foolish as your master! She used Frostwind Slash twice for Sanwei Mountain—how many more times do you think you have left? You have too many weaknesses! If I capture even one of them—Yan Shanqing or the others—you’ll have no choice but to use it a third time!"
Yu Zhiling stepped on his ribcage, the crunch of bone echoing unnervingly. The distant tribulation lightning didn’t distract her in the slightest.
"Yu Zhiling, with so many weaknesses, you’ll die sooner or later! Why cling to emotions? Why not follow your grandfather’s path of detachment? You’re being dragged down by your sect siblings!"
She pressed her foot against his throat, his body already reduced to pulp.
"Where is my father?"
"You’re asking me? If you know about him, you must’ve gone to Jinghong Village—don’t you already know?"
She crushed his windpipe, white bone peeking through torn flesh. He gasped, face flushing red.
"Where is my father?"
In agony, You Zhou snarled, "Dead! Buried beside your mother’s grave—go see for yourself!"
He expected her to break—both parents gone. He wanted nothing more than to see her in pain.
But she was eerily calm.
She looked down at him as if he were nothing but an insect, a sacrificial lamb.
"Dead?"
You Zhou grinned. "Why aren’t you crying? In the Demon Abyss, you sobbed so pathetically when I described how your father, your mother, your master, Ying’s entire family, and your disciples all died! You knelt on the ground and wept! Cry, Yu Zhiling! Cry!"
She stepped on his face.
"Oh. Then die."
Wu Zhaoyan and Yun Zhi averted their gazes in unison.
Bones shattered. The clone was trampled into mush, sinking into the coarse sand.
A red light floated from the corpse, trying to escape, but Yu Zhiling coldly caught it in her grip.
Slowly, methodically, she crushed it—reducing it to dust, beyond any hope of reassembly.
Even with seventy percent of his true power, a clone was no match for a Tribulation Transcendent. Against Wu Zhaoyan or Mo Zhu, You Zhou might have stood a chance.
But before Yu Zhiling, absolute power rendered him helpless. The moment he saw her, he knew this clone was doomed.
Yu Zhiling stared at the mangled remains in the sand. This was the first time she had killed since coming to this world—and she had done it with exceptional cruelty.
Yet she felt no fear, no hesitation, no guilt or sorrow.
If anything, she was disturbingly serene.
In fact, a faint sense of satisfaction stirred within her.
Yun Zhi had appeared behind her at some unknown moment. "The Demon Lord is no ordinary demon. He was born from the Celestial Demon Womb in the lightless depths of the Northern Demon Realm—his bloodline is pure and formidable. His blood can refine demon seeds, and his three souls can forge avatars. So..."
Yu Zhiling didn’t even look up, scraping the blood from her soles onto the sand as she replied flatly, "He has three lives."
Yun Zhi hesitated before nodding. "Yes. I’d only heard rumors, but it seems he should still have one avatar and his true form remaining."
Yu Zhiling cut in directly. "No. Only his true form is left now."
"How do you know that?"
She lifted her gaze to meet his, the intermittent flashes of lightning illuminating both their faces.
"This is the second time I’ve killed him. Ten years ago, within the borders of Sisheng, I definitely killed him once before."
Yun Zhi’s brow furrowed slightly. "Xiao Wu, didn’t you say you don’t remember?"
Yu Zhiling tilted her head toward the distance, where beneath the storm of heavenly tribulation was her disciple. She had rushed here in desperation to save him, only to personally slay this demonic incarnation.
Amid the thunder’s roar, Yun Zhi caught her murmur.
"If I hadn’t killed him before, I would never have taken my own life."
Zhuo Yu’s suicide must have happened only after she was certain she had avenged herself. Vengeance achieved—yet she was trapped in the Demon Abyss, surrounded by demons.
Something else must have occurred, something that shattered Zhuo Yu’s spirit so completely that she didn’t even consider surviving, returning to her senior brothers and sisters. Instead, she used Feng Shuang to sever her own soul.
But why Feng Shuang, of all methods?
Feng Shuang—the supreme technique of the Mingxin Dao, the very weapon that had slain Immortal Fuchun.
Perhaps, for her at that moment, death was harder than living.
The tribulation lightning of Divine Transformation descended without warning. Mo Zhu had shown no signs of nearing this breakthrough.
Unprepared, he endured the strikes with exhausted defiance, battered until he could barely stand, coughing up clotted blood.
To any observer, it might have seemed like his prolonged battle with You Zhou had forced his cultivation to this precipice.
But he knew—this tribulation was unnatural. He had only recently reached the peak of Nascent Soul. To face another tribulation within a single month was impossible.
His advancement was too swift. Unnervingly so.
The final bolt of lightning gathered ominously before striking. Collapsed in the crater, his body was a map of wounds, his breathing faint.
Mo Zhu’s vision blurred. The tremor of Wu Hui Sword told him something approached.
Gripping the blade, he staggered upright and lifted his head to the figure standing at the crater’s edge.
One glance, and his pupils constricted.
"Little Ah Zhu... long time no see."
