Chapter One Hundred Fourteen: Born for Shadows

Half an hour earlier, in another location.

Lin He was sprinting through a narrow corridor, cradling Yu Daoyi in his arms. His brow was furrowed, beads of sweat clung to his forehead, and his spiritual energy fluctuated uncontrollably. He kept his eyes fixed on the person running ahead of him, his lips pressed tightly together as if lost in thought. After a long while, Lin He sighed; seemingly held back by some concern, he finally abandoned the plan he had been turning over in his mind. Another half-stick of incense later, the narrow passage finally came to an end.

They emerged into a space that appeared quite vast, though it was significantly smaller than the magma cliff they had left behind. Within this space, all that met the eye was a simple wooden hut, fronted by a small herb garden. There was nothing else.

Lin He looked up. A large opening in the ceiling revealed the world outside: a blood-red barrier and a crimson moon hanging in the sky. In ordinary times, the herbs here would have likely basked in the sunlight, and perhaps a few rays of moonlight would have filtered in at night.

"A hole in the ceiling that looks out to the mountain peak?"

"This Baili Mo truly has one trick after another," Lin He said with a faint chuckle. Suddenly, he collapsed to the ground, the various forces within him finally falling into disarray and taking their toll.

Yu Daoyi tumbled to the ground along with him. Seeing his furrowed brow, it was clear he remained deep in a coma. Lin He hurriedly sat cross-legged, struggling to calm the turbulent energies within his body. The fragments of demonic power he had absorbed from Yu Daoyi were essentially unrooted; as long as he calmed his heart and guided them carefully, he could expel them. At the very least, with Lin He’s current cultivation, he could not fully refine Yu Daoyi’s demonic aura.

Not far away, the disheveled man ahead glanced back, showing no hostility, then turned and walked straight toward the wooden hut. The structure appeared to have been abandoned for ages; many of the floorboards creaked under his weight, and some snapped or crumbled into dust at the slightest touch. He carefully opened the door and stepped inside, seemingly searching for something.

***

In the Sea of Consciousness.

Yu Daoyi sat quietly beside a small, dried-up, and cracked pond. Floating above the basin was a tattered, crimson scroll. After a long interval, Yu Daoyi slowly opened his eyes and stared at the void of his consciousness for a long time.

"I’ll say this first: whether it was last time or this time, it was your own anger that caused you to indulge in power that does not belong to you. Don't blame me," the Spirit Vessel said, devoid of emotion.

"That feeling was quite good. At least I felt I had done something for them," the still-dazed Yu Daoyi replied softly.

All feelings of helplessness stem from one’s own weakness. Even by borrowing the strength of others, and even by continuously deceiving oneself, one cannot change the fact of that weakness.

"Heh, wallowing in self-intoxication?" the Spirit Vessel mocked coldly.

"Even so, I am not so far gone that I cannot distinguish right from wrong. I am well aware that it was merely my own wishful thinking. In the end, I accomplished nothing—I even became a burden," a look of pain crossed Yu Daoyi’s face.

"That is your own concern, not mine," the Spirit Vessel’s voice was icy.

"You really are heartless," Yu Daoyi slowly stood up, shaking his head with a bitter smile.

"Nonsense! I am a vessel!" The Spirit Vessel retorted sharply, then paused to issue a warning: "My power has been almost entirely consumed by you. At the very least, do not expect to draw anything more from me for the time being."

"I will not trust you, just as you have never trusted me." Yu Daoyi looked deeply at the floating crimson scroll, clearly unconvinced by its words.

His figure gradually faded until he vanished from the Sea of Consciousness. The space returned to silence. A long time passed.

"Yu Daoyi... the only one I trust is him." The voice was very faint, tinged with complexity, and carried a trace of helplessness.

***

Yu Daoyi opened his eyes to see the massive opening in the ceiling and the blood-red moon, casting an eerie, crimson light into the chamber. He flexed his fingers. He had lost count of how many times he had been injured; reality and illusion felt blurred. Every part of his body ached, covered in wounds. With his consciousness drained and his spiritual energy utterly depleted, the current Yu Daoyi was barely stronger than an ordinary mortal. Had it not been for his flesh, which had been tempered to the brink of death every single day, he would have been pulverized into blood mist by some strike long ago.

He glanced around and saw Lin He sitting in meditation nearby, his face pale and twisted in agony, yet a faint smile still lingered on his lips—he was suffering and enjoying it simultaneously.

Yu Daoyi turned his gaze back to the hole high above. He picked up some loose stones and threw them upward, only to watch as they quietly disintegrated into ash without a sound. His lips twitched, and he dismissed the idea of escaping through the opening.

The wooden door of the hut stood half-ajar, and a few clear footprints marked the dust-covered floorboards. Yu Daoyi walked over slowly. The blood-red light from the hole outside fell upon the hut, adding a sharper, more menacing air to the surroundings.

Next to the hut was a small herb garden. A rich fragrance filled the air. Yu Daoyi scanned the plants, recognizing only twenty or thirty percent of them, yet even that small amount left him stunned. Any one of these herbs would have caused a massive sensation in Qingshan Town.

He crouched down and gently pinched a leaf; it snapped at the slightest touch. Looking closely, he saw that while the leaf was green, the fracture was grey. There was fragrance, but no medicinal potency.

"Insufficient spiritual energy, exhausted soil. The medicinal properties of these herbs have long since been consumed by the passage of time. They are nothing more than weeds now," Yu Daoyi said, his eyes filled with regret and pity. "In the end, this is neither a blessed land nor a spiritual site, and there was no one here to tend to you. What a shame."

"Are you feeling pity?" A hoarse voice suddenly sounded from behind him. Yu Daoyi’s pupils constricted. He turned to see the disheveled man standing right behind him.

"Who are you exactly!" Yu Daoyi’s expression turned cold. Had this man wanted to strike, he would have been defenseless; the man’s presence was simply too faint to detect.

"Your meridians are broken and battered, and neither your consciousness nor your spiritual energy has recovered. Who do you think you’re putting on that expression for?" Although the disheveled man’s face was obscured, his tone was full of playful mockery.

"Heh, I suppose you’re right. With your ability to remain so undetectable, it would be effortless for you to kill me. It’s a waste that you aren’t an assassin." Yu Daoyi dropped his guard, returning to his usual nonchalant demeanor.

"There’s no need to fish for information." The dark eyes beneath the messy hair seemed to have found someone interesting. "I was born for shadows. I come from the Shadow Sect."

Yu Daoyi frowned, surprised that such a guarded person would so readily reveal such a secret. Composing himself, he quickly adopted a serious attitude. "I know your rules. I heard nothing, I know nothing. You cannot kill me."

The disheveled man was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Haha, you are very interesting. Very special."

"What a coincidence. That person over there said the exact same thing to me," Yu Daoyi said, gesturing with his chin toward the meditating Lin He.

"I know him. He’s from the Xiaoyue Pavilion, and one of the people working for that most annoying Mr. Mo," the disheveled man sneered. Yu Daoyi was shocked; the Xiaoyue Pavilion was known for its secrecy, yet this man seemed intimately familiar with them.

For a long while, the disheveled man just stared at Yu Daoyi. His dark eyes were deep and strangely familiar, making Yu Daoyi instinctively reach back to touch his own rear in a fit of sudden panic.