After speaking, Sui Ji fell silent, as if waiting for her response. It seemed the only thing that could stir his emotions was matters related to Wu Weining.
Yu Zhiling asked softly, "Why should I go with you?"
Sui Ji replied, "If you come with me, I can tell you certain things."
"How can you be sure I want to know those things?"
"Your soul doesn’t belong to this world."
Yu Zhiling’s fingers, which had been resting calmly on her knees, suddenly clenched tightly, her pupils contracting slightly.
Sui Ji glanced at her wrist. "I took your pulse earlier. Your soul seems forcibly inserted into this body, and you’re missing one of your soul fragments. But your spiritual power is strong—the absence of the [Sleepless Soul] hasn’t affected you much."
Yu Zhiling remained silent, as if waiting for him to continue.
Sui Ji pressed his lips together. From her expression, he knew his words alone weren’t enough to sway her.
"Your memories are damaged because of the missing [Sleepless Soul], aren’t they?"
Her reaction confirmed his guess.
Everything he said was correct.
Sui Ji continued, "Don’t you want to know how I can see this? Or what else I might know?"
Yu Zhiling replied impassively, "And to find out, I must follow you to the Demon Abyss?"
Sui Ji: "Yes."
Yu Zhiling nodded. "Fine. Let’s go."
She agreed without hesitation, and Sui Ji showed no surprise. He simply nodded. "Good."
He extended his hand toward her, his voice low. "There’s a seal on your soul, and it’s already partially broken. With my current power, I can help loosen it further. You might remember more."
Yu Zhiling placed her hands in his palms. The stagnant mist around them suddenly stirred, swirling rapidly around the two. She closed her eyes, feeling threads of spiritual energy seep into her meridians.
Outside, Mo Zhu was nearly frantic.
He had been trying relentlessly to break through the seal of the Six-Time Script, but despite being at the mid-Great Ascension stage—one of the most powerful cultivators in the world—the divine artifact devoured his spiritual energy effortlessly.
His eyes burned red with fury and panic, his rationality slipping. Only when Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan grabbed him did he pause.
"Let go! My master is in there!"
The two men held his arms tightly, using all their strength to restrain him. They barely had time to marvel at his sudden surge in power before shouting, "She’s fine! The Six-Time Script won’t harm her—she’s at the Tribulation Transcendence stage!"
Mo Zhu channeled his energy and flung them aside, raising his sword to strike.
Yun Zhi blocked the blade with gritted teeth. "This is a divine artifact—it must have a spirit! She was probably pulled in by it. The spirits of the Central Continent have never harmed anyone willingly!"
"Mo Zhu!"
Their voices pierced through his haze. Both men stood firmly in front of the artifact.
Mo Zhu finally regained his senses, his sword hand trembling. A tear of sheer terror rolled down his cheek—so stark that Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan stiffened. The usually unshakable young man was hunched slightly, his shoulders shaking, his eyes brimming with fear.
He was truly terrified.
Wu Zhaoyan’s throat tightened. His gaze flickered to the red string tied around Mo Zhu’s left wrist—a love knot, a token exchanged between sweethearts.
He looked away, swallowing his words before finally murmuring, "She’ll be fine. Don’t panic."
In truth, he had no idea if she would be fine. The reassurance was as much for himself as it was for Mo Zhu.
Mo Zhu closed his eyes. His heart hadn’t slowed since the moment Yu Zhiling disappeared. Until she returned, he wouldn’t calm down.
After what felt like an eternity, just as his frayed nerves threatened to snap again, the wooden box on the table finally stirred.
Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan whirled around. The Six-Time Script, previously inert, began emitting a faint glow that steadily brightened. The two men flinched, but Mo Zhu didn’t blink, his gaze fixed on the light.
A figure materialized within the radiance—tall, straight-backed, clad in white robes, with an unfamiliar face. Mo Zhu barely spared him a glance, his attention locked on the person cradled in the stranger’s arms.
Yu Zhiling’s collar was stained with blood, a crimson streak at the corner of her lips. Her face was deathly pale, her body limp in unconsciousness.
"Master!"
Mo Zhu rushed forward, gathering her into his arms. Her head lolled against his chest, unresponsive no matter how gently he shook her.
His hands trembled as he checked her pulse and breathing—steady heart, even breaths.
She was injured, but not critically. Someone had already treated her.
Mo Zhu pressed his forehead to hers, his voice breaking. "Master..."
Sui Ji stood with his hands behind his back, studying Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan. Mo Zhu might not recognize his face—they had only met once—but the two Immortal Lords of the Central Continent certainly did.
Wu Zhaoyan whispered, "You... weren’t you dead?"
Sui Ji narrowed his eyes. "You’re from the Wu family?"
He had some awareness of the outside world, but his lucid moments were too brief to keep track of the Wu family’s affairs.
Wu Zhaoyan nodded. "I am Wu Chen’s son, the thirty-fourth head of the Wu family."
Sui Ji’s expression softened slightly. "Then A-Ning is your... aunt?"
It wasn’t entirely accurate, but Wu Zhaoyan gave a quiet hum of confirmation.
Though they were speaking to Sui Ji, their eyes kept darting to Yu Zhiling in Mo Zhu’s arms. Her injuries were evident.
Mo Zhu adjusted his hold, cradling her more comfortably before lifting his gaze, his voice icy. "What did you do to my master?"
Sui Ji answered bluntly, without remorse. "I lost control of my anger and crushed a few of her bones."
He spoke as if it were nothing, his indifference igniting fury in the others.
Mo Zhu’s sword, Wuhui, shot from its sheath, its blade gleaming as it slashed toward Sui Ji, who dodged effortlessly, his expression unmoved.
Just as Mo Zhu prepared to strike again, the figure in his arms stirred.
"Mo Zhu."
He froze, his gaze snapping down to Yu Zhiling.
Her eyes were half-lidded, barely focusing on him before closing again. She buried her face against his chest, murmuring weakly, "Take me back... to Ying Mountain. It hurts."
Mo Zhu immediately discarded all other thoughts. Her words were law to him.
The young man nuzzled his forehead against hers, his voice rough with emotion. "Alright."
It was unclear what Sui Ji had said to Yu Zhiling, but Yu Zhiling now wanted to leave. Without hesitation, Mo Zhu turned and escorted her away, paying no heed to Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan behind them, nor to the tragedy that had befallen the Immortal Alliance. To him, only Yu Zhiling mattered.
He vanished from the rear hall, leaving only Yun Zhi, Wu Zhaoyan, and Sui Ji behind.
Sui Ji leisurely picked up the wooden box on the table and tucked it away—his own true form, best kept close. By now, Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan could likely guess what manner of existence he truly was. No matter how unbelievable, the truth had unfolded before them.
Ignoring the two, Sui Ji strode out, surveying the corpses strewn across the ground. To him, such human tragedy seemed almost routine, eliciting not a flicker of emotion.
"These deaths occurred days ago. Judging by the methods, it wasn’t the work of a single person."
Yun Zhi suppressed his fury as he followed. "Do you have nothing to say?"
Sui Ji continued walking. "What would you like me to say?"
Yun Zhi’s gaze turned icy. "Why did you attack Xiao Wu?"
Sui Ji replied, "I asked her a question. Her answer displeased me."
"What did you discuss?"
"That’s between us. If she wishes to tell you, ask her yourself."
Sui Ji had a knack for provoking anger, effortlessly riling up Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan.
Wu Zhaoyan stepped in front of Sui Ji, blocking his path with his blade. "Out of respect for your seniority, I’ve held my tongue—but clearly, you don’t deserve it. Who do you think you are, daring to lecture the Immortal Lord of the Central Continent?"
Sui Ji, unfazed, merely clasped his hands behind his back and regarded him coolly. "Your temper doesn’t resemble your father’s. Must’ve inherited it from your mother. How are your parents these days?"
Wu Zhaoyan nearly drew his sword, but Yun Zhi restrained him.
Yun Zhi fixed Sui Ji with a piercing gaze. "Sui Ji, what exactly are you planning?"
Sui Ji arched a brow. "Nothing at all. Wasn’t it you who woke me? Why did you bring me to the Immortal Alliance?"
He glanced around at the corpses.
"Everyone’s dead. What’s the point? These disciples were likely killed guarding the Six-Time Seal. The Immortal Alliance’s defenses rely on external formations, so this must’ve been an inside job."
"Was it the one who replaced me?" Sui Ji smirked. "He couldn’t have done it alone. Probably had help. I wonder who that might be?"
Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan stiffened. Sui Ji brushed past them and left.
The bodies lining the path didn’t faze him, though the stench of blood was foul.
His steps light, he traversed the path he hadn’t walked in six hundred years. As he emerged from the rear hall into the front courtyard, a shadow darted past—a kick slammed into his chest.
Sui Ji was sent flying, hurled dozens of feet by Mo Zhu’s strike. He crashed through several pillars before smashing into a wall, leaving a deep dent in the stone.
Sliding to the ground, he knelt, coughing up blood.
Mo Zhu strode forward and stomped on Sui Ji’s right wrist, crushing the bones to dust.
Sui Ji groaned, his face ashen as he looked up at the youth before him—tall and poised, with the face of an immortal yet the ruthlessness of a demon.
Mo Zhu gazed down at him as if he were mere vermin.
"My master is Immortal Lord Zhuoyu. Who do you think you are, daring to lay a hand on her?"
Sui Ji spat out a mouthful of blood. His wrist was shattered, his ribs broken. He watched as Mo Zhu turned and walked toward the corner of the hall—the only clean spot in the filthy, chaotic room, where Yu Zhiling lay.
Mo Zhu bent down, gathered Yu Zhiling into his arms, wrapped her in his cloak, and carried her out without a backward glance.
Sui Ji chuckled darkly. Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan emerged from the rear hall, taking in his battered state. They didn’t offer help, merely watched from a distance.
Swaying to his feet, Sui Ji wiped the blood from his lips and muttered to himself, "A true serpent’s spawn, biting when provoked. Vengeful. He’ll go far."
Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan busied themselves contacting the other noble clans, summoning aid to handle the aftermath. They scoured the Immortal Alliance but found no missing records. The intruder had sought the Six-Time Seal, unaware that Fuchun had hidden it in a torn pocket of space—no amount of searching would uncover it.
Sui Ji paid them no mind. Staggering out the gates, he squinted in the sunlight. It had been six hundred years since he’d last stepped outside.
"A-Ning, they really do resemble us."
Mo Zhu carried Yu Zhiling back to Yingshan.
The moment they reached Listening Spring Cliff, he rushed to her courtyard and laid her on the bed. Gently, he loosened her outer robe, pushed up her inner garment, and exposed her abdomen—where a shard of white bone pierced through her skin.
Mo Zhu’s breath hitched. His eyes burned with suppressed rage.
He shouldn’t have stopped at two kicks. He should’ve shattered every bone in that spirit’s body, left him writhing in the dirt.
Forcing down his fury, he sent a message to Ning Hengwu: "Second Aunt, come to Listening Spring Cliff. Quickly."
Ning Hengwu arrived swiftly. At the sight of Yu Zhiling’s wound, her heart nearly stopped. She reached out but hesitated, afraid to cause more pain.
"What… what happened?"
Mo Zhu replied quietly, "I’ll explain later. Tend to her first."
He turned away, listening to the rustle of fabric as Ning Hengwu worked. His mind filled with Yu Zhiling’s unconscious face, fueling his anguish and fury. He wished he could flay Sui Ji alive.
Ning Hengwu carefully removed Yu Zhiling’s inner robe and undershirt. Glancing at Mo Zhu’s rigid back, she knew he wouldn’t turn around, so she focused on treating the wound.
After about fifteen minutes, she withdrew her hands and dressed Yu Zhiling, tucking her under the quilt.
"Done."
Mo Zhu turned and hurried to the bedside, brushing a tender hand over Yu Zhiling’s temple, his worry plain.
Ning Hengwu didn’t mock him as she might have before. She stepped aside, making room for him—just as the jade token at her waist lit up.
"Hengwu, come to the Teaching Hall. The Immortal Alliance is in chaos."
Her face paled. She rushed out without another word.
Alone with Yu Zhiling, Mo Zhu leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He smoothed her disheveled hair and clasped her hand.
Yu Zhiling awoke that evening.
The moment she stirred, Mo Zhu was at her side.
"Master?"
A dull ache throbbed in her ribs, making it hard to sit up. Her voice was hoarse. "We’re back?"
"Yes. I brought you home to heal." Mo Zhu cradled her hand against his cheek. "Does it still hurt?"
It did—badly. But Yu Zhiling shook her head. "I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt."
"You can tell me if it does. It’s alright."
"Really, it doesn’t."
Mo Zhu gazed at her for a while, his eyes calm yet piercing, leaving Yu Zhiling at a loss for what to do.
"Mo Zhu, about the Immortal Alliance’s affairs..."
"The sect leader and the others are already aware and handling it. The records weren’t stolen. The person impersonating Sui Ji was likely only after the Six-Time Seal. Elder Jingwei didn’t reveal anything before his death either."
Yu Zhiling felt somewhat relieved—at least the Six-Time Seal was still in their hands and hadn’t been taken.
"Master, I wasn’t by your side." Mo Zhu cupped her face, leaning down until their foreheads touched. "I shouldn’t have closed my eyes. I should have held onto your hand the whole time. This is my fault."
Yu Zhiling raised her hand to touch his cheek. "Mo Zhu, it’s not your fault. I’m fine."
Mo Zhu kissed her forehead. The two were so close that she could hear the frantic beating of his heart, sensing the unease he’d carried all along. Mo Zhu was still terrified, still afraid.
When he felt unsettled, he became especially clingy. His kisses trailed from her forehead downward—her eyes, her long lashes, a peck on the tip of her nose—but just as he was about to reach her lips, Yu Zhiling turned her head away.
His kiss landed at the corner of her mouth.
Both stiffened. Mo Zhu’s muddled mind, clouded by panic, finally cleared slightly. He pulled back, putting some distance between them.
"Master?"
She had never refused a kiss before.
Yu Zhiling closed her eyes, her throat bobbing as she spoke hoarsely, "I’m a little tired. You should go rest too."
Mo Zhu wasn’t a fool. He could tell something was off. His Adam’s apple moved as he remained silent for a few breaths before finally responding in a subdued voice.
"Alright. If Master is tired, rest early."
Mo Zhu straightened up, tucking the quilt around her, placing a cup of tea on the bedside table, and arranging her shoes neatly.
"Master, this disciple will be in the next room. Call if you need anything."
"...Mm."
Only after Mo Zhu left did Yu Zhiling move. She pushed the embroidered quilt aside, pressing a hand over her eyes, exhaling heavily.
With her ribs broken, even speaking was difficult, her voice rough. "System, is my merit value only for staying alive, or does it have other uses?"
It seemed she had triggered a keyword—this time, the system didn’t stay silent.
[Merit value is a tool bestowed by the Heavenly Dao to sustain the host’s life. One point of merit can be exchanged for one year of lifespan. Five thousand merit points will allow the host to reach the maximum lifespan before ascension. The host’s merit value is indeed for survival.]
She was less than six hundred points away from reaching five thousand.
Yu Zhiling forced out a response. "Mm."
After lying still for a while, the courtyard gate was knocked upon, a voice calling from outside.
"Zhuoyu."
Yu Zhiling knew who it was. Without lifting her head, she transmitted her voice. "Come in."
Chan Luo pushed open the gate, entered her room, and closed the door behind her. She carried a basket of fruit but didn’t sit on the bed—instead, she pulled up a stool beside it.
"You’re injured? Is it serious?"
Yu Zhiling lowered the hand covering her eyes. "It’s nothing. Not serious."
Noticing Yu Zhiling’s gaze fixed on the wooden basket, Chan Luo quickly took out a fruit and handed it over. "They’re washed. Try one."
Yu Zhiling ate from her hand, lying back with a sigh. "You’re so kind, bringing me food."
Chan Luo smiled sheepishly. "I don’t have much to offer. I still haven’t fulfilled what I promised you earlier. When I heard you’d returned, I came to talk, worried I’d forget if I waited too long."
Yu Zhiling had intended to seek her out the night they returned, but considering the late hour, she decided to let Chan Luo rest first.
The next day, however, she guessed something might have happened with the Immortal Alliance. They left for the alliance, and Yu Zhiling only woke that evening, immediately sending a message to Chan Luo.
"You don’t mind if I stay lying down?"
Chan Luo shook her head. "No, not at all."
Yu Zhiling gestured for her to speak.
Chan Luo sat stiffly, her fingers fidgeting.
"I never agreed to work for You Zhou. All these years, I’ve been lingering near the Seven Extremes Land. When you chased You Zhou into the Demon Abyss, I didn’t know what happened inside—I was still in the Seven Extremes Land at the time."
Yu Zhiling said, "I have a general idea. We fought for a month. In the end, I used the Soul-Extinguishing Array to kill him. I didn’t realize it was just his avatar—he tricked me."
Chan Luo nodded hesitantly. "Later, Ni'e extracted [Sleepless] from you. She meant to kill you, but you suddenly unleashed a surge of power that nearly backfired on her. You Zhou helped her escape the Demon Abyss from the outside. You were on the brink of death, but for some reason, the demonic wraiths didn’t dare approach you. Both You Zhou and Ni'e were severely injured and didn’t dare re-enter. Since the wraiths couldn’t kill you, he ordered the other demons to do it, but... none could get close."
She glanced cautiously at Yu Zhiling, relieved when her words didn’t seem to trigger painful memories, and continued.
"You lay there, but an invisible force kept the wraiths and demons at bay. You clung to life for half a month. You Zhou had no choice but to turn to me for help."
"My Boundary can penetrate all formations, spanning all four realms—including the Four Slaughter Realms."
Yu Zhiling shifted with difficulty, turning her gaze toward her. "You can enter the Demon Abyss through your Boundary?"
"Mm. The Boundary is the Heavenly gift of the Golden Cicada clan. You could call it divine blessing. The Heavens granted the Flying Serpents a second heart—the Reverse Scale—and gave our clan the ability to reach any place through the Boundary."
Yu Zhiling’s ability to accept such things had improved. She’d seen a weapon spirit take human form, knew the Flying Serpent’s Reverse Scale could protect anyone’s life force—so it wasn’t impossible for the ancient Golden Cicada clan, rare as they were, to possess unique abilities.
"You were sent to kill me?"
"Mm."
"Why didn’t you?"
"I didn’t want to." Chan Luo said. "I trapped you within my Boundary. Every day, I asked if you regretted it. You always said no. There was no spiritual energy in the Demon Abyss—your wounds wouldn’t heal. They worsened, but your mental state remained stable."
Yu Zhiling asked, "Then why did I lose my mind?"
Chan Luo shook her head. "I don’t know. You stayed in my Boundary for three years. I never got the answer I wanted. I... I nearly went mad myself. I—I’m sorry. I kept pushing you."
Yu Zhiling pressed further. "Let’s set that aside for now. What I want to know is—why did I ultimately take my own life?"
Chan Luo looked at her, recalling events from ten years ago. Her eyes held restrained pain, her gaze now tinged with pity.
"You were unconscious for half a year. No matter what I did, I couldn’t wake you. Then suddenly, you opened your eyes—but it was like you were seeing something else. You tried to kill me to escape. We fought for a long time, and then you... you began to show signs of... demonic corruption."
Yu Zhiling’s hand clenched violently, her voice sharp. "Demonic corruption?"
"Indeed, you fell into demonic obsession. You had an inner demon—not just a fear of darkness. That demon was what ultimately drove you to madness." Chan Luo nodded. "Back then, you were severely injured for three years. I don’t know how you survived—perhaps by relying on that inexplicable power of yours. At any rate, even in that state, you could still fight me and nearly beat me to death."
"You never gave me the answer I sought. Even in your madness, you refused to say you regretted it. I couldn’t bear to keep waiting for you. So, I left the Abyss of Demons through my realm. You remained there alone. My realm couldn’t take you with me—only I can traverse through it to other places. No one else can."
"Then, three days after I left the Abyss of Demons, You Zhou informed me that you had died. The soul lamp in Ying Mountain Sect had extinguished, and the demons in the Abyss sent word that you had taken your own life with the Frostblade Slash."
So, what drove a cultivator who practiced the Path of Clear Mind to end her life with such a supreme technique was neither the endless darkness and solitude nor the relentless, haunting voices demanding answers.
It was what Yu Zhiling saw during the half-year she spent unconscious within Chan Luo’s realm. When she awoke, she was already lost to madness.
After Chan Luo left, Yu Zhiling emerged from her realm, alone in the Abyss of Demons. Perhaps she struggled, trying to escape, but in the end, she lasted only three days before choosing to end her life with the Frostblade Slash.
This seemed to be all Chan Luo could tell her.
The two fell into silence. Yu Zhiling was deep in thought, while Chan Luo clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.
"...I’m sorry, Zhuoyu. I know I have no right to say this, but I still want to apologize."
"Because of my selfishness and stubbornness, you suffered for so long. I’m sorry."
Yu Zhiling snapped out of her thoughts, her expression complicated. Though her memories hadn’t fully returned, she could still piece together how Immortal Lord Zhuoyu had endured those three years within her realm.
Trapped in an illusory darkness, devoid of spiritual energy, her wounds refused to heal. She lay there for three years, her battered body barely holding on, while every day, a voice whispered in her ear:
"—Yu Zhiling, do you regret it?"
And with unwavering patience, she always answered:
"—I don’t regret it. I will never regret it."
The solitude and darkness may have frightened her, but they weren’t enough to break her. Not until she suddenly fell unconscious for half a year. In those six months, perhaps she saw something in her nightmares—something that, upon waking, birthed an inner demon that slowly drove her to madness.
In the end, that demon destroyed her. She used the Frostblade Slash.
Chan Luo stood up and said to her, "I truly am sorry, Zhuoyu."
"Zhuoyu, rest well. I’ll take my leave now."
Yu Zhiling didn’t move—couldn’t move. She watched as Chan Luo rose and left, closing the door behind her, then the courtyard gate.
Night returned to silence.
Just beyond the wall, in the room adjacent to Yu Zhiling’s brightly lit one, Mo Zhu’s quarters were the opposite—dark, empty, not a single lamp lit.
He sat on the edge of his bed, listening as the footsteps outside gradually faded and the neighboring room fell into stillness.
Yu Zhiling’s bedroom was separated from his by only a single wall. Neither she nor Chan Luo had bothered to lower their voices—perhaps she hadn’t realized just how keen the hearing of a Flying Serpent could be, that even from such a distance, he could make out every word spoken in her room.
He often heard her cracking chestnuts inside, or giggling as she read storybooks.
And tonight, he had heard everything Chan Luo and Yu Zhiling discussed.
Why was she keeping it from him?
Mo Zhu didn’t know. But he was perceptive. He knew Yu Zhiling had spoken with Sui Ji about something, and now she seemed to be avoiding him. What was she planning?
Yu Zhiling… why hide it from him?
What did she intend to do?
