"Wucheng lies on the border of the Ghost Realm, an unassuming place at first glance, yet it is the very site of the Ghost Gate. Usually desolate and quiet, the moment the gate opens, the town bursts into life."
Cultivators of the demonic path are martial and combative by nature, and regardless of the time of day, the training halls are always filled with sparring matches.
Xie Jingci had pawned some jewelry to obtain a few demon crystals. After repaying Zhou Shen, she sat by the arena, chatting idly with him.
Earlier, in Pei Du’s room, she had been struck by a whim and made a small joke. The young master Pei, unsure whether he had understood, froze for a moment before burrowing under the blankets, murmuring that he was tired.
Deprived of his spiritual power and cultivation, he truly needed rest. Unfamiliar with the area and with little else to do, Xie Jingci found herself returning to the training hall.
The hall master, Zhou Shen, was a warm-hearted man. Seeing her alone, he struck up a conversation, ensuring the seemingly delicate young woman wouldn’t feel awkward or out of place.
"The Ghost Gate hasn’t yet opened for its scheduled time. You and Young Master Pei likely arrived here by stumbling upon a nascent rift between realms. Leaving isn’t difficult—just wait patiently until the gate officially opens, and you’ll be able to depart properly."
Zhou Shen added, "The Ghost Gate opens once every fifteen years. That storybook you’re holding records events from decades ago… So much time has passed that even I’ve nearly forgotten."
His expression was calm, but as he finished speaking, he let out a low chuckle. Though his eyes crinkled with the smile, they remained distant and unfathomable, shrouded in shadows.
"In The Duel of the Ghost Realm, there are two protagonists."
After a long hesitation, Xie Jingci finally voiced the question that had lingered in her heart: "One is you, and the other is the blade master Fu Chaosheng… Do you know where he is now?"
Somewhere in the vast training hall, the excited cheers of young cultivators erupted.
Amid the clamor, Zhou Shen turned to her. The mist in his eyes dissipated, revealing a darkness deep and profound, honed over years.
"He left the Ghost Realm long ago. Miss Xie, that name is taboo in Wucheng."
His voice carried a faint smile, betraying no other emotion: "Many here would rather not hear it. Be careful not to mention it in front of others."
Taboo.
She had never imagined that the man she remembered would be associated with such a word.
The Duel of the Ghost Realm vividly depicted the adventures of two young demonic cultivators traversing the Ghost Realm, their swords upholding justice.
Zhou Shen, bold and meticulous, wielded peerless swordsmanship, while Fu Chaosheng’s mastery of the great blade was nothing short of divine. By the story’s end, the two had set off westward, their path stretching endlessly ahead.
As for what truly happened afterward in Wucheng—even the author of that tale likely knew nothing.
"Senior Fu left the Ghost Realm?"
Xie Jingci was stunned. "But when he bid me farewell back then, he clearly—"
She cut herself off, noticing Zhou Shen’s puzzled expression, and explained softly, "Fifteen years ago, I traveled to the Ghost Tomb with my parents. I was too mischievous and wandered off alone, only to be cornered by demonic creatures… It was only thanks to Senior Fu’s timely intervention that my life was spared."
Fu Chaosheng was the very person she had come to the Ghost Realm to find.
Back then, Xie Jingci had been naive and unsure how to repay such a life-saving favor, offering only a hurried word of thanks. Fu Chaosheng had turned and left just as quickly, vanishing through the Ghost Gate without a trace.
As for The Duel of the Ghost Realm, an old and obscure tale, she had only bought it because she spotted Fu Chaosheng’s name on the title page.
Zhou Shen’s throat moved slightly before he asked, "When he bid you farewell, what happened?"
"He turned back into the Ghost Realm," Xie Jingci recalled. "I told him my parents would reward him handsomely for saving me, but he said there was no time—he had something he had to do."
Something he had to do.
Zhou Shen’s brow twitched, but his tone remained indifferent: "It’s not that I won’t help you, but his whereabouts are a mystery. No one in Wucheng knows where he is now."
He trailed off then, as if sensing something, and turned his head.
At that very moment, Xie Jingci heard a familiar youthful voice: "Master! What are you two talking about?"
It was the same disciple from last night—the one who had been engrossed in reciting The Romance of the Ghost Realm. His name, if she remembered correctly, was Mo Xiaoyang.
Xie Jingci hadn’t forgotten—the winner of that grand tournament, with a prize of ten thousand demon crystals, had also been named Mo Xiaoyang.
Zhou Shen dropped the subject, rubbing his temples as he regarded the newcomer. "Finished copying The Thousand-Character Classic?"
"Of course! Master, I toiled through the night, determined to reap what I’ve sown. I’ll never misspeak again and make you as furious as an ox panting under the moon."
Mo Xiaoyang lacked any trace of the restraint expected of a swordsman. Far from being the disciplined top disciple of the hall, he seemed more like an impulsive, reckless youth.
His eyes landed on Xie Jingci, and he grinned. "Fellow Cultivator Xie! It’s freezing today—aren’t you going to imitate the ugly and bundle up like the rest of us?"
The poor boy hadn’t learned a thing—he’d only gotten worse.
Zhou Shen’s eyes bulged, and he truly began huffing like an enraged ox.
"Fellow Cultivator Xie’s blade work is exceptional. I saw it last night and was utterly awestruck."
Mo Xiaoyang continued, "How about a spar? Don’t worry, I’ll suppress my cultivation to match your level."
He was already at the sixth stage of the Golden Core realm, while the female cultivator before him had likely only just broken through to the first stage. Mo Xiaoyang was principled—he would never rely on sheer cultivation to overpower an opponent.
Xie Jingci had intended to press further about Fu Chaosheng’s whereabouts, but Zhou Shen had made it clear the conversation was over. To persist would be inappropriate.
And so, she found herself standing on the arena once more.
Mo Xiaoyang was a swordsman, clearly not one to go easy on anyone, and with his cultivation base, Xie Jingci focused entirely from the outset.
Trained under Zhou Shen, his style was likely that of the Ghost Realm—a school renowned for its unpredictability and cunning. She had only read about such techniques in manuals; facing a true practitioner now filled her with anticipation.
The first strike came—a flash of sword light met by the crescent arc of her straight blade. Spiritual energy collided, sending invisible ripples through the air.
This was merely a probing move. As the echoes of their clash faded, both figures paused.
Like arrows drawn to their limits, after the briefest hesitation, they shot forward again.
"They’re moving! Who is this girl? Just watching them, I doubt I’d last three moves."
"Mo Xiaoyang’s suppressing his cultivation. Honestly, her skill isn’t that impressive. Even if she wins, it’s only because he’s holding back."
"What do you know? They’re testing blade and sword techniques—this isn’t about raw power. Cultivation can be honed with time and effort. Right, Hall Master Zhou?"
"Even with Mo Xiaoyang holding back, she can’t beat him, can she? I’ve never heard of her before—just some nobody."
Zhou Shen stood by the mirror, lifting his gaze at the comments and offering a perfunctory smile.
He had known since last night that this Xie Jingci was no ordinary fighter. Every move she made was fluid and unpredictable—undoubtedly the high-tier techniques of a prominent noble clan.
Yet upon observing today, something felt off.
It was too chaotic.
During their brief encounter yesterday, it hadn’t been noticeable, but now, after witnessing Xie Jingci’s fierce exchange with Mo Xiaoyang, Zhou Shen realized her blade techniques were a mess—lacking any fixed pattern, as if she were striking entirely on a whim.
Strangest of all, as her duel with Mo Xiaoyang deepened…
Her blade techniques began to faintly mirror the offensive style of Zhou Shen’s own school.
No way.
In such a short time, under such intense and demanding circumstances, could she really be simultaneously engaging her opponent while learning and mimicking Mo Xiaoyang’s footwork and swordsmanship?
Zhou Shen’s lazy smile faded as he straightened his posture, scrutinizing the scene within the circular mirror.
Initially, he had assumed this battle would be a one-sided domination by Mo Xiaoyang, but now, it seemed there might be unexpected entertainment to witness.
Within the Xuanwu Realm, an aura of deadly tension hung thick. Mo Xiaoyang’s swordplay was swift as lightning, while Xie Jingci met his strikes head-on, her blade dancing in offense as defense.
Zhou Shen could only discern that she was subconsciously adopting Mo Xiaoyang’s movements. If he were to leave the Ghost Domain and witness the techniques of other immortal sects, he would surely gasp in realization:
So this girl had picked up bits and pieces from various schools, wielding them haphazardly yet effortlessly.
Xie Jingci had an extraordinary aptitude—she learned everything quickly.
Her family’s blade techniques were undoubtedly fierce, but they revolved around a singular core, making them predictable and, in the end, somewhat dull.
Xie Jingci liked things that were interesting.
Her movements were lightning-fast, and in the blink of an eye, a storm of blade light enveloped her entire form.
Mo Xiaoyang, likely encountering such a disorderly assault for the first time, was already struggling to keep up.
Outside the mirror, bewildered faces stared.
Someone hesitantly asked, “I can’t quite follow their movements, but… is Mo Xiaoyang at a disadvantage here?”
Another voice chimed in, “Not exactly a disadvantage, but… more like being suppressed, forced into defense?”
This was Mo Xiaoyang.
Even among all the Golden Core cultivators in the Ghost Domain, he ranked among the best. Though he had suppressed most of his cultivation, in terms of pure footwork and swordsmanship—
He was being suppressed.
The spectators had come expecting a one-sided spectacle—either to catch a glimpse of the beauty who had caused a stir the previous night or to witness Mo Xiaoyang’s solo performance. None had anticipated this turn of events.
While the crowd buzzed with excitement, Zhou Shen frowned and leaned forward, his gaze sharp.
Inside the mirror, the battle grew fiercer.
Mo Xiaoyang suddenly closed the distance, his sword flashing cold light. Xie Jingci sidestepped, her blade cutting upward against the wind.
Instinctively, he prepared to evade.
But her blade didn’t follow the expected trajectory. Instead, her footwork shifted abruptly, her wrist twisting as she redirected her strike upward in a seamless transition.
The blade light surged menacingly, and Mo Xiaoyang froze.
He had anticipated nearly every possible counter, but this—this was beyond his expectations.
This was his own killing technique.
The blade’s radiance carried a biting chill, leaving him no room to retreat.
The sharp-eyed youth suppressed the metallic taste in his mouth as spiritual pressure erupted around him—
The crushing might of a Sixth-Level Golden Core cultivator surged forth!
“Holy heavens.”
Someone in front of the mirror gasped. “That—that’s a sword technique from the Tianyan Dao, isn’t it? Am I seeing things? How did she pull that off?”
“Wait, look… Did Mo Xiaoyang just unleash his full cultivation?”
The surroundings fell into stunned silence.
Every pair of eyes was locked onto the mirror.
The sudden burst of spiritual pressure was unstoppable. Xie Jingci, unable to dodge in time, could only retract her Ghost Crying Blade to shield herself—just as Mo Xiaoyang’s sword pressed against her throat.
It was a cultivator’s instinctive defense mechanism, yet even Mo Xiaoyang, standing at the center of his own sword’s aura, was momentarily stunned.
In the vast illusionary realm, even the faintest whisper of wind was audible.
Mo Xiaoyang: “……”
After a long silence, the young man lowered his sword.
His gaze was earnest as he studied Xie Jingci’s face, his usual cheerfulness replaced by solemnity. “I lost.”
Had he not instinctively unleashed his Sixth-Level Golden Core cultivation in that life-or-death moment, he might have already been decapitated.
Outmatched in technique and having broken the agreed-upon rules, his defeat was undeniable.
After a brief pause, Mo Xiaoyang sheathed his sword.
Xie Jingci was still catching her breath when the young man before her suddenly looked up, his earlier dejection vanishing as a grin spread across his face.
—He was actually smiling.
“That was amazing! How old are you? How long have you been practicing blade techniques? That last move was my sword technique, right? How did you manage to learn it mid-fight? And that first strike—wow, so cool! If we weren’t opponents, I’d be clapping for you right now!”
Mo Xiaoyang’s eyes sparkled brighter with each word. “Are we fighting again tomorrow? Oh wait, if we keep this up, that young master with you might get upset—so, are we fighting again tomorrow?”
He—talked—so—much.
There was no denying that Mo Xiaoyang was a formidable opponent, the undisputed top combatant among the martial hall’s disciples.
Her victory was owed not only to her innate talent but also to the rigorous training she had received since childhood. As for Mo Xiaoyang, his only experience came from this martial hall, and his true cultivation level far surpassed what he had shown today.
Xie Jingci swallowed her compliments, listening to his endless chatter with a mix of amusement and exasperation.
Help, is this really the so-called “top combatant of the martial hall”? Why is he wagging around like an excited puppy?
“Senior Brother Mo… admitted defeat?”
A junior disciple beside Zhou Shen gaped before turning to his master. “Master, this girl—”
Zhou Shen, thoroughly entertained, glanced down. “What do you think of her?”
The disciple pondered before answering carefully, “She seems like a prodigy with immense potential.”
His master chuckled. “A prodigy?”
“Look at her attire and accessories—seemingly plain, yet every piece is of exquisite quality. And that blade of hers? Radiant, sharp, and undoubtedly a masterpiece.”
“Observe her demeanor and blade techniques—polished speech, flawless execution. What appears to be chaotic improvisation is actually a refined amalgamation of countless schools. She must come from an extraordinary background.”
“As for her age and such remarkable insight—”
The disciple met Zhou Shen’s gaze as the latter concluded firmly, “Even in the vast cultivation world beyond the Ghost Domain, she is undoubtedly a once-in-a-generation genius.”
Xie Jingci had technically won the duel, yet stepping out of the Xuanwu Realm left her feeling inexplicably disheartened.
Her cultivation should have been on par with Mo Xiaoyang’s, yet he had suppressed his strength to match her. No matter how she looked at it, she had benefited from an unfair advantage.
She wanted a proper, honorable fight against strong opponents—not just posturing in the Xuanwu Realm while holding back in reality.
When would her cultivation return? The thought alone was exhausting.
Just like last time, when Xie Jingci awoke from the Xuanwu Realm, she found herself surrounded by a crowd of onlookers, all eager for a spectacle.
She was accustomed to such scenes, habitually offering a polite smile, while Mo Xiaoyang beside her remained as excitable as a boisterous monkey, grinning ear to ear: "Miss Xie, I’ve booked the ‘Ten Thousand Ghosts Cave’ in the Black Tortoise Realm. Would you like to join me for a try?"
"Ten Thousand Ghosts Cave?"
Xie Jingci paused. "Is it a training illusion?"
Mo Xiaoyang nodded.
Ever since the spiritual consciousness of cultivators was developed, the Black Tortoise Realm had introduced increasingly diverse activities—such as arenas, combat tournaments, and all manner of training grounds. Without any preamble or chance to catch one’s breath, stepping into these illusions meant facing monstrous beasts and demons beyond ordinary imagination, engaging in direct, life-or-death battles.
Many were drawn to it, while others feared its brutality and danger. Unlike conventional competitions with universally positive reviews, it was jokingly called "a game for the mad" by cultivators.
"In the Ten Thousand Ghosts Cave, we’ll face a tide of vengeful spirits. My martial brothers and I have tried many times but never made it to the end—the latter half is too overwhelming, leaving no ground to stand on."
Mo Xiaoyang scratched his head. "But it’s still quite fun. It starts in half an hour—do you want to give it a try? If the young master accompanying you is interested, he can come too."
Of course she wanted to go! It had been so long since she’d last cut loose in a fight!
Without hesitation, Xie Jingci nodded, her gaze inadvertently drifting to a flash of snowy white in her peripheral vision.
Her heart skipped a beat. Turning her head, she indeed saw Pei Du.
Pei Du stood tall and slender, impossible to miss even in a crowd. His hair was loosely tied back, and he wore pristine white robes, silently watching her—or perhaps Xie Jingci and Mo Xiaoyang together.
"Pei Du?"
After a brief farewell to Mo Xiaoyang, she weaved through clusters of people and hurried toward him. "What brings you here?"
Pei Du pressed his lips together, the corners flattening briefly—a fleeting micro-expression—before his voice, cool and gentle as ever, answered, "I had nothing to do, so I wandered around."
Xie Jingci hadn’t told him about her plans before leaving, though she had mentioned the previous night that a martial arts hall master had arranged a physician for him.
Given her temperament, a martial arts hall suited her well.
Pei Du had only come on a whim, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Yet, through the crowd, he had seen her smiling at an unfamiliar young man, and from what he overheard, the two had just gone through a thrilling duel.
Once upon a time, it had always been him standing by Miss Xie’s side.
Now, he could only watch from afar.
"What’s on your mind?"
Xie Jingci snapped her fingers in front of his eyes.
Her gaze was clear and bright, casting his dark thoughts into shameful contrast. Pei Du shook his head, listening as she said airily, "I just had a match with that guy."
"...Mhm."
"He’s quite skilled—his swordplay is fast."
Her tone was light, and he listened attentively, about to respond with another "Mhm," when her next words caught him off guard.
Xie Jingci added, "But not as good as you."
His heart skipped a beat.
Pei Du turned to her abruptly, momentarily stunned.
"You’re my most satisfying opponent."
She met his gaze squarely, her voice slightly dry. "Once you’ve recovered, you must spar with me again."
She must have noticed his awkwardness and said this deliberately to ease it.
Casual, effortless—yet it struck true.
This was... utterly unfair.
Pei Du lowered his head slightly, feeling his ears grow warm.
He couldn’t help but smile but didn’t want her to see, so he pressed his lips together and tilted his face away. "Mhm."
"By the way."
Xie Jingci’s eyes gleamed. "Mo Xiaoyang—that swordsman just now—invited us to the Ten Thousand Ghosts Cave in the Black Tortoise Realm. Do you want to try it?"
Xie Jingci led Pei Du into the Black Tortoise Realm before the appointed time.
Aside from dual arenas, the realm also had a vast public platform accessible through spiritual connection, leading to various illusions.
Notably, since spiritual consciousness had no fixed form, anyone in the public area could be using a fake voice, face, or even gender.
To save time, neither of them altered their appearances. The public space bustled with activity, but amidst the chaos, Xie Jingci effortlessly sensed Pei Du’s presence.
The aura of an ordinary person without cultivation and a powerful cultivator were worlds apart.
For some reason, she felt a quiet relief and glanced up at him. "Golden Core?"
Pei Du’s expression was hard to read—he had long grown accustomed to masking his emotions.
His dark eyes were unfathomably deep. After a brief pause, he chuckled softly. "Mhm, Golden Core."
The Black Tortoise Realm had countless training grounds, and when Xie Jingci arrived at the entrance of the Ten Thousand Ghosts Cave, she spotted a vaguely familiar figure.
It was a fair-skinned, red-lipped youth who had been idly glancing around. The moment he saw Xie Jingci, his expression shifted dramatically.
It was the thief from last night.
Enemies meeting—eyes blazing with fury.
"You—!"
The boy gnashed his teeth, fury flashing in his eyes. "Because of you last night, I was thrown into the Inspection Bureau and tortured! The Ten Thousand Ghosts Cave is already booked by my friends—don’t even think about it!"
Xie Jingci’s eyes widened. "You were the one wearing black in the middle of a snowstorm! And we booked this place first—"
Before she could finish, she noticed a familiar figure nearby and straightened.
"Mo Xiaoyang!"
"Mo Xiaoyang!"
Two voices rang out simultaneously. Xie Jingci and the boy exchanged glances before declaring in unison: "This person’s trying to steal the Ten Thousand Ghosts Cave from us!"
They both froze.
"I know!"
Mo Xiaoyang laughed cheerfully. "I invited a few others to join us—more hands make light work, right? No time to waste, let’s head in."
Unaware of the tension, he added with another chuckle, "Oh, this is my longtime friend Fu Nanxing. Very reliable."
Fu Nanxing: "..."
Branded as "reliable," his indignation had nowhere to vent. Combined with the fact that he had been in the wrong the previous night, he could only stiffly mutter, "Pleasure."
After a pause, he glanced at the longsword in Xie Jingci’s hand. "A blade user?"
Mo Xiaoyang chimed in from the side, "Nanxing once studied swordsmanship under my master, but he found metal weapons too heavy and switched to talismans."
Fu Nanxing flushed, retorting defensively, "Who said ‘too heavy’? Do I look that delicate to you? I know a thing or two about blade techniques too."
Zhou Shen was a swordsman and wouldn’t have taught him blade skills.
Seeing Xie Jingci’s dismissive "Sure, sure, whatever you say" expression, he scowled and snatched the Ghost Crying Blade from her.
Fu Nanxing clearly hadn’t held a blade in ages—his stance was awkward and unnatural. After fumbling for a while, he finally began swinging the blade from memory.
His movements were clumsy, drawing a snicker from Mo Xiaoyang.
Xie Jingci, however, found the technique oddly familiar. Before she could place it, Fu Nanxing had already stopped, his face burning red as he shoved the blade back into her hands.
"No more, no more," he muttered defensively. "I’m not feeling well today. Let’s just go in already."
Xie Jingci asked curiously, "Given our level of skill, how long could we survive in there?"
Fu Nanxing snorted and shot her a glance, then held up a hand with all five fingers extended.
Xie Jingci: "Five hours?"
He shook his head.
"Five sticks of incense?"
Still no.
Her temple throbbed. "Don’t tell me it’s just five cups of tea?"
"Watch closely," he said with a smirk, then began counting down on his fingers: "Five, four, three, two, one."
Xie Jingci: Hmph.
As it turned out, the brat wasn’t even accurate.
Because she was killed and thrown out of the illusion in just three seconds.
