Chapter One Hundred and Eleven: Eh (Four Thousand Words)

A wave of black, putrid mud suddenly emerged from the Sea of Consciousness, corroding the crimson hue of this mental realm. The power of the spiritual artifact within gradually weakened, and the sea itself dimmed steadily.

“If this keeps up, it’s a loss for me—am I just furnishing a dowry for someone else?” the artifact spirit whispered lowly. “Forget it, Yu Daoyi, it’s not that I don’t want to help you, but if this continues, your Sea of Consciousness will be completely corrupted.”

As the spirit’s voice faded, the blood-red color within the Sea of Consciousness began to pale. The crimson scroll above the sea ceased its turning pages and slowly closed, floating gently back to its place, ending the supply of demonic energy.

“This filthy mud is still as disgusting as before—Gluttony from the Black Death Book? Nonsense!” the artifact spirit shouted sharply. Instantly, the corroding mud within the sea was shattered.

The Sea of Consciousness returned to its original state, no longer tinged with red. However, the once pond-like spiritual sea had completely dried up, with fragments of cracks visible along its edges.

Outside.

“Heh, Yu Daoyi, you really caught me off guard again,” Lin He said, panting heavily with his head bowed. With a wave of his right hand, the clump of mud enveloping Yu Daoyi was pulled back. Lin He caught the mass steadily, and as the mud receded, it revealed Yu Daoyi, unconscious.

His red hair was gone, and his once striking, almost otherworldly handsome face now appeared delicate, brows tightly furrowed as if he had suffered immense torment.

“Hiss~”

The mud covering Lin He gradually retracted into his body, restoring his original delicate appearance. The grime and filth were gone, but the spiritual energy on his body was now uncontrollable, wildly fluctuating both inside and outside. Fine beads of blood surfaced on his skin, and faint crimson light shimmered from him.

Lin He smiled faintly, brow furrowed, though the slight contortion of his face betrayed the intense pain as he struggled to assimilate this power.

“Yu Daoyi, what exactly is that power within you? Even I can’t digest it. Your spiritual energy is completely out of control,” Lin He said, his expression twisting with pain but his tone remaining calm.

“Still not leaving? Want to die together?” Yu Yunfan’s lips bled continuously as his body trembled fiercely. The great cauldron shook violently, while the mysterious turtle spirit and fiery spirit beneath roared with intensity.

Lin He grinned, slowly rising while cradling Yu Daoyi. Each movement was painstakingly slow, as if any sudden motion would tear his body apart.

He smiled quietly, not uttering a sound. His narrow eyes grew colder and more sinister as he leapt toward the cliff’s opposite shore, holding Yu Daoyi tightly.

Yu Yunfan glanced at the turtle spirit he was desperately suppressing below, then back at the retreating figure of Yu Daoyi. A faint smile curved his bloodied lips, a rare warmth softening his usually detached demeanor.

Suddenly, Yu Yunfan looked toward the distant battle with the blazing beasts and felt as if he had forgotten something. Straining to recall, he finally glanced back behind him.

Lin He, holding Yu Daoyi, moved steadily away from the battlefield. At the cliff’s far side, a disheveled man in tattered clothes walked slowly forward. Ahead of him lay a passage leading to the next location.

His intact appearance was indistinguishable from when first seen—his tangled hair unscorched, his body unmarked.

“When did he get here?” Yu Yunfan’s eyes widened. Despite subtle hints that someone was present, he had unknowingly overlooked him.

By all logic, everyone in this secret realm should be capped at the peak of Qi Refinement stage unless they used forbidden techniques to surge beyond; otherwise, breaking through was impossible.

Yet this man had vanished beneath so many eyes and reappeared on the far shore, unharmed. This strength was not something mere invisibility could explain.

Lin He’s pupils contracted slightly upon seeing the nameless figure ahead, surprise flickering in his eyes. He had never noticed this person quietly manifesting on the other side.

As Lin He and company neared the passage across the cliff, Yu Yunfan finally succumbed, slamming painfully against the rock wall. This time, he could no longer fight back. His white hair instantly turned black, shattering the forbidden technique that had previously boosted his cultivation.

The dark spiritual energy returned within, and the oppressive aura exceeding early Foundation Establishment stage gradually faded. His cultivation stabilized at Qi Refinement, Seventh Layer. Exhaustion marked his face; his black hair swayed gently, strands of white threading through.

He was pinned against the rock, immobile. Even his once arrogant, almost immortal bearing had met its downfall.

Gradually, Yu Yunfan’s eyelids drooped. The vision blurred, and a profound, ethereal mystery surfaced in his mind. Countless images flashed before his eyes in rapid succession, too fleeting to discern clearly.

Then one image fixed—a figure with a head of white hair standing atop a mountain peak, seen only from behind, surrounded by towering mountains.

Holding the sun and moon in hand, treading the cosmos beneath his feet, wrapped in auspicious clouds.

At that moment, the mysterious turtle spirit roared, turning toward the very foe who had immobilized it before. Its fangs bared, it rose in molten lava, lunging to swallow Yu Yunfan.

The image shattered with a thunderous crash; the turtle’s gaping maw slammed toward Yu Yunfan, sending splashes of molten rock and a haze of crimson-gray dust into the air.

A white figure leapt from the smoke, bearing another—Yu Yunfan, gravely wounded.

“You’re going to die! What about your brother?” the white-clad, masked woman holding a long sword snapped irritably, dodging attacks from lava beasts and fiery spirits.

“Heh, isn’t it tiring to wear that mask all day, Xia Rong?” Yu Yunfan feebly replied, feeling the slight tremble of the shoulders beneath him.

“You knew?” Xia Rong paused, softly asking.

“I’m not stupid, and neither is my brother,” Yu Yunfan said, leaping down from her back.

“He’s known for a long time? I was trying to avoid him,” Xia Rong said, removing her veil.

“Lin He—I don’t trust him. And with that nameless guy around, I’m even less confident in my brother,” Yu Yunfan said softly, watching the furious turtle spirit. “Xia Rong, I don’t know your identity or your stance, but my brother trusts you, so I trust you too.”

“What do you want to do?” Xia Rong asked, her delicate brows furrowed.

“Go. I’m not that fragile,” Yu Yunfan turned away, his gaze resolute.

“But—” Xia Rong urged anxiously.

“There’s no ‘but.’ He will believe you and me. I won’t die.” Yu Yunfan recalled the small cauldron, once again restored to its original form. He bit his tongue lightly, spitting a drop of fresh blood onto it.

Immediately, his cultivation surged again. His once-dulling black hair gradually turned white—but this time, it seemed forced, as if he might collapse at any moment.

In the distance, Xuan Xin gritted his teeth, watching the turtle spirit drawn toward Yu Yunfan. In a flash, he leapt toward the opposite shore’s passage, desperately running forward with a silver mirror circling him, blocking attack after attack.

Behind him, Yan Yan blazed with fire, charging ahead. His face twisted with fury, muttering “madman, madmen,” as he fixed his gaze on the passage. He, too, wanted to escape.

“Take care of my brother. He’s a fool, clueless about the bigger picture,” Yu Yunfan said softly, a faint smile touching his lips. His white hair gave him a forlorn air.

“Don’t die,” Xia Rong said after a long moment, looking deeply at Yu Yunfan before leaping toward the passage. There, Bai Yiyue stood waiting, smiling gently at her.

Yu Yunfan’s expression remained blank, as if he had anticipated this. Bai Yiyue had arrived even earlier, clearly no ordinary figure.

“From now on, no one should think of crossing over,” he said, then dodged the turtle spirit’s gaze and ran toward Yan Yan and Xuan Xin. Only by using them as targets could he hope to escape.

“Don’t come near! Bastard!” Yan Yan shouted furiously upon seeing Yu Yunfan approach.

The turtle spirit, sensing two stragglers, controlled the blazing beasts to attack relentlessly. It twisted its enormous body, causing the space itself to crumble.

Xuan Xin gritted his teeth helplessly, controlling the silver mirror to attack, but the turtle spirit swatted it hard with a claw. The mirror cracked open, and Xuan Xin was flung like a kite in the wind.

“Ah! Flame Burst!” Yan Yan roared, swinging a flaming fist forward with a hollow roar. The attack toppled several blazing beasts, but the turtle spirit’s furious roar forced Yan Yan to stagger backward.

“Three Lives Cauldron!” Yu Yunfan commanded, sending three small cauldrons flying forward, but before he could unleash their power, he was struck hard and sent tumbling toward the lava.

At the last moment, Yu Yunfan formed a hand seal. One cauldron darted back, smashing him into a rock face, narrowly avoiding falling into the lava. Yet the impact caused him to cough up blood repeatedly.

He slowly stood again, his bloodied face colder than ever, a burning determination telling him he must not fall.

To fall is to die.

Beside him, Xuan Xin, grievously wounded, ignored his injuries. His right leg had been crippled by the fiery spirit’s intense heat. Unlike Yu Yunfan, he had no forbidden techniques to boost his cultivation—just decent talent and some luck.

Xuan Xin knew that within the Xuan Mirror Sect he was a prodigy, admired by many. But here, in this dire situation, he was merely a disposable pawn. No one would return to aid him. His precious talent and strength were useless; death awaited.

He quietly stared at the cracked silver mirror, his eyes filled with despair, anger, and sorrow.

“Master, what should I do? I wish I could see you one last time,” Xuan Xin whispered.

Yan Yan, least injured, watched Yu Yunfan relentlessly attack, only to be knocked back repeatedly, rising again each time. Once proud and arrogant, he now seemed defeated, staring blankly.

After one final blow, Yu Yunfan fell beside the boiling lava, motionless, battered and emitting faint hints of burning flesh.

The turtle spirit seemed thrilled, ignoring Xuan Xin and Yan Yan as it crept closer to Yu Yunfan, its fierce eyes gleaming with amusement.

Yan Yan’s dull expression brightened slightly. Seeing a glimmer of hope, he charged toward the passage once more, taking advantage of the turtle spirit’s distraction.

“Ha! Haha!” As he neared the passage, a smile spread across Yan Yan’s face.

But the smile froze instantly. His gaze blanked as he looked down at his chest—there, a scorched, deformed hand pierced through, clutching a beating heart.

“Wh-why?” Yan Yan trembled, desperately looking behind him, wanting to see who was there.

“Why? Why? Do you really think I don’t exist?” a proud yet hoarse voice sounded behind him.

Yan Yan’s eyes widened, seeing a face burnt beyond recognition—hairless, naked, charred black. Behind him trailed scorching lava, as if crawling from the molten depths, flickering flames and heavy smoke clinging to his body.

“Lin Yang,” Yan Yan gasped, disbelief etched on his face. His eyes glazed over, and his body lost all strength, hanging limply in Lin Yang’s arms, silent.

“Eh,” Lin Yang responded quietly.

Crawling from the blistering lava, screaming desperately beneath the red earth, writhing in endless agony and heat, fury mounting within, everything burning away—where was the voice he cried out?

No one heard.

If so, then none here should exist.

All must perish!