ATAVID CH42

Wei Xun’s footsteps paused slightly.

He stood in the center of the street as the red phantoms flowed past him from both sides like a rushing tide. Those semi-transparent faces were vacant and hollow, yet without exception, they were all drifting toward a single direction.

“Yes,” he said.

Resting atop his head, Jiang Qunyu shifted his black fog ball form slightly to settle into a more comfortable position before asking, “Are we going?”

Wei Xun replied casually, “Naturally, we must go.”

The two of them followed the direction where the Grievance-Born Phantoms were converging.

As the night deepened, the surrounding yin energy grew heavier, and the path beneath their feet gradually became damp and chilly. A faint, elusive scent of metallic sweetness floated in the air, resembling the smell of deep lake water, yet also carrying the distinct copper note of blood.

Before long, they actually arrived at the shore of Mirror Lake.

At night, the lake’s surface was completely calm and devoid of waves, like an ancient mirror shrouded in a layer of mist, without even a single ripple. The wind sweeping across the water brought a dense, clammy dampness, mingled with the faint scent of joss paper ashes and incense embers.

Beside the lakeshore, the Shrine of Three Wishes stood silently in the darkness. Countless red phantoms surrounded it layer upon layer in a dense, compact crowd, looking like pilgrims on a sacred pilgrimage, yet also like a mass of imprisoned souls.

Listlessly steering clear of those Grievance-Born Phantoms, Wei Xun stepped into the Shrine of Three Wishes once again with Jiang Qunyu.

The shrine was brightly illuminated by candles, and curls of incense smoke drifted through the air. The vermilion wooden doors were half-open, and ever-burning lamps flickered quietly within the main hall, casting a dim, warm yellow glow across the entire room.

Jiang Qunyu floated down from Wei Xun’s head, his soul form emitting a faint luminescence in the dimness as his gaze locked onto the divine statue. Then, his brow furrowed.

The statue was clearly situated in the exact center of the stone platform, yet it had shifted slightly by half an inch, looking as if it had been forcefully nudged aside by someone. A few fresh scrape marks were left on the edge of the stone platform, completely out of place with the accumulated dust around it.

“It looks like there’s a way down here,” Jiang Qunyu said, walking forward.

He reached out and exerted a bit of force, and the divine statue actually slid aside. Beneath it was not a solid stone platform, but a pitch-black, deep stone staircase that led straight down, completely hidden from sight. A frigid wind surged upward from the depths, carrying a heavy, fishy stench of lake water.

Just as Jiang Qunyu was about to speak, the ground beneath his feet suddenly sank.

The stone platform and the staircase broke apart simultaneously in a split second. His feet met empty air, and his form plunged straight downward. The sudden sensation of weightlessness hit him as the sound of the wind roared in his ears.

He let out a sigh, thinking to himself that this was truly a stroke of terrible luck. Just a few hours ago, he had proudly told Wei Xun that he had jumped down from the windowsill. This time, he was explicitly not doing it voluntarily!

He was falling too fast. Furthermore, his current soul form could barely maintain a physical shape, leaving him unable to even reach out and grab Wei Xun in time. At the thought of crashing flat on his face and inevitably facing Wei Xun’s mockery, Jiang Qunyu felt a wave of irritation.

He had no idea how long he had been falling, but right before his feet could hit the ground, a hand securely caught him by the waist.

The white-robed youth arrived like falling snow, bringing with him a faint, elegant scent of crisp cold air. His chest was warm, and his arm was firm and powerful, holding him in an incredibly tight grip that almost made it hard to breathe.

Only when they landed on solid ground did Wei Xun finally release his hold.

The two of them had dropped into a patch of pitch-black darkness where one couldn’t even see their own hand in front of their face. Jiang Qunyu couldn’t read Wei Xun’s expression, nor did he know if the guy was secretly mocking him.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, he spoke up, fabricating a lie without a second thought: “I could have stood up perfectly fine on my own without your help.”

Wei Xun remained completely noncommittal to his words, merely speaking up in a cold tone: “Jiang Qunyu, can you not properly look after yourself for once?”

Jiang Qunyu felt a bit disheartened this time, mostly because he found the situation incredibly embarrassing. Consequently, he didn’t argue back, silently following behind the other instead.

Wei Xun pulled a green paper lantern out of his cosmic bag and lit it. The eerie green light diffused across a small area, barely illuminating their surroundings. This place closely resembled the deep recesses of a subterranean tunnel, with intersecting forks in the path branching out like a massive web woven beneath the earth.

Along the freezing, damp stone walls, water droplets condensed and fell—drip, drop—echoing repeatedly within the dead silence. Jiang Qunyu felt a surge of dread in his heart, never having imagined that such a sight lay beneath the Shrine of Three Wishes.

“This seems to be the same tunnel we came across before,” Jiang Qunyu admitted honestly this time. He stopped trying to put on a brave front to avoid accidentally falling down again, so he transformed back into a black fog ball and hung onto the top of the pole holding Wei Xun’s lantern.

The ball of black fog was perfectly round, resting securely at the tip of the lantern pole and swaying gently with Wei Xun’s footsteps. Seeing this, Wei Xun reached out and poked it.

Jiang Qunyu turned around and glared at him, dragging his plump, round body forward a bit. He said testily, “You are absolutely doing that on purpose.”

A faint trace of amusement flashed across the depths of Wei Xun’s eyes, yet he countered smoothly, “Clearly, it is simply because you are a bit too round.”

Jiang Qunyu: “…”

The two chatted idly back and forth, traversing one fork in the path after another. Until they reached a certain point, a heavy scent of blood wafted from up ahead.

Wei Xun’s footsteps ground to a halt, and the green glow of the paper lantern dimmed slightly.

Jiang Qunyu said, “There seems to be someone up ahead.”

Wei Xun walked over.

Before long, a silhouette came into view, leaning against the freezing stone wall. The figure was completely drenched in blood, their breath incredibly faint and practically on the verge of death. It was a disciple of the Mysterious Sword Sect.

His robes were torn to shreds, and jagged wounds crisscrossed his body, looking as though he had just survived a brutal, tragic battle. Sensing someone approaching, he opened his eyes with great effort. Spotting Wei Xun, his pupils trembled slightly as his lips quivered.

Even though Jiang Qunyu had witnessed plenty of grim scenes, he still wasn’t quite adjusted to it. He remained silent for a long moment before asking, “A disciple of the Mysterious Sword Sect?”

Wei Xun fixed his gaze on the figure. Hearing the question, he squatted down, lowering his eyes to look closely at the dying disciple.

The disciple stared with unfocused eyes. Gathering the absolute last shred of his strength, he mumbled weakly, “Master…”

Jiang Qunyu’s heart skipped a beat, instantly recalling Wen Xingyao’s words from a few hours ago: ‘My master plans to go look for that little white flower himself right now.’

However, before Wei Xun could ask further, the disciple could no longer hold on. His tensed frame suddenly went limp, the rising and falling of his chest ceased entirely, and the last breath of life dissipated completely.

Jiang Qunyu couldn’t bear the sight. He manifested his soul form, drifted down from the lantern pole, squatted down, and reached out. His slightly cool fingertips gently brushed over the disciple’s wide-open eyes, softly closing them.

After a long moment, he returned to Wei Xun’s shoulder, and the two continued moving forward.

They walked through the narrow, oppressive tunnel for roughly the time it takes to burn half an incense stick. The path grew deeper and more secluded, and the scent of blood in the air became so thick it was almost suffocating. The green light of the paper lantern flickered within the narrow corridor, illuminating the dark red blood splatters on the stone walls on either side, stretching all the way into the deepest recesses.

Before long, the space ahead suddenly opened up, and a chilling underground palace abruptly materialized before their eyes.

Right at the entrance of the palace, several disciples of the Mysterious Sword Sect lay scattered haphazardly on the ground. Their robes were shredded and their wounds were gruesome, indicating they had met an exceptionally cruel fate. A few strands of soaking wet black hair remained coiled around their bodies, looking as if they had been dragged to this spot by some entity.

Inside the palace, countless lanterns emitting an eerie blue light hung closely packed in midair, illuminating the entire underground palace in a bizarre, sinister glow.

And standing right in the center of the palace was none other than Yun Shuangjian.

Her white robes were stained with blood, with blossoms of dark red blooming across the fabric. Her brows and eyes were filled with sheer ferocity; her usual gentleness and innocence had completely vanished, leaving behind nothing but a freezing intent to kill.

The pitch-black hair surrounding her body moved like a living organism, tightly binding Shen Peiqiu.

Shen Peiqiu was bound to a stone pillar by the black hair, his robes in total disarray. The wound on his chest was continuously seeping blood, and his breath was incredibly weak. Yet he still forced himself to raise his eyes, his gaze resting calmly on a spot not far away, as if wanting to remember the scene before him forever.

Over there, Lan Yuanzhou was half-kneeling on the ground. The wound on his shoulder was bleeding profusely, thoroughly soaking his swordsman robes. Su Fuyao was curled up in his arms, his face deathly pale and his body trembling violently as he tightly gripped Lan Yuanzhou’s lapels.

Lan Yuanzhou lowered his eyes, his face completely pale: “Master, Master… I, I mistook him for you. I thought… I thought Su Fuyao was you, which is why I rushed over to save him.”

Hearing this, Su Fuyao’s tears looked ready to fall: “Brother Yuanzhou, it’s all my fault. If Master hadn’t given his robes to me, you wouldn’t have mistaken me for him.” His body trembled even harder: “I… I am willing to trade myself to bring Master back…”

Lan Yuanzhou’s lips twitched. Finally, he looked at Su Fuyao and ultimately said, “You are also injured, so rest for now. I will go save Master.”

But the moment he pulled himself up slightly, he knelt right back down due to excessive blood loss. Su Fuyao let out a startled cry, reaching out to support him. Lan Yuanzhou didn’t look at him; he merely kept his head lowered, staring at his own hand bracing against the ground, his knuckles turning white and veins bulging.

Shen Peiqiu remained leaning against the stone pillar, quietly watching this scene unfold.

Meanwhile, Wen Xingyao, who was standing in a corner, was tightly gripping a thick tree branch he had picked up somewhere. His knuckles were white, his teeth were chattering, and he kept muttering under his breath, “Young master isn’t scared, young master isn’t scared.”

Seeing this, Jiang Qunyu’s eyelids twitched, having no clue what this fool could possibly accomplish with a mere tree branch. Poke Yun Shuangjian once? Or scratch an itch for her?

Nevertheless, saving Shen Peiqiu was the priority right now.

“Go save him first,” Jiang Qunyu perched back onto Wei Xun’s head so it would be convenient for him to take action.

Wei Xun didn’t move. He simply stood in place, his gaze sweeping over every single person in the underground palace. Then he spoke, his tone completely flat: “You know him.”

Jiang Qunyu was filled with exasperation. Was now really the time to be discussing this? Besides, in the original novel, this person could technically be considered your old flame.

“Didn’t we meet last time?” Jiang Qunyu testily tugged a strand of Wei Xun’s jet-black hair. “Furthermore, I already said I am a good demon. If it weren’t for the fact that I can’t use demonic energy right now, I wouldn’t have bothered asking you to step in.”

Only then did Wei Xun lower the green paper lantern. With a slight focus of his divine sense, the Soul-Eater sword materialized.

A cold gleam cleaved through the wind like shattering snow, moving so fast it left only a silver-white afterimage. As the blade flashed past, the black hair binding Shen Peiqiu was instantly annihilated into nothingness.

Shen Peiqiu’s entire body went slack, and he leaned weakly against the stone pillar. He raised his eyes, looking toward the youth who had walked in.

His white robes were as pristine as snow, his features were cold and detached, and the long sword in his hand glinted with a chilling aura. It was the disciple of the Ascending Firmament Sect, Wei Xun.

Shen Peiqiu’s expression grew somewhat complex. The pressure exuded by the youth’s sword intent actually indicated the Void Refining Realm. Even he himself… possessed a cultivation level of merely the third tier of the Spirit Severing Realm. Lan Yuanzhou possessed an exceptional skeleton structure, yet even now he was only at the Great Perfection of the Nascent Soul Realm.

Previously, he had only heard rumors that the youth’s talent was terrifying. After that sectarian tournament twelve years ago, the youth’s name had spread far and wide. He had simply assumed the boy was a bit more formidable than ordinary individuals, never expecting to witness a reality of this magnitude.