Chapter Eighty-Six: Blood Moon, Blood Night!

This place was astonishingly real—even the pain felt vivid and true. Every peach tree, every person, even the lingering scent on Yaoyao’s body existed tangibly; yes, her fragrance carried the subtle sweetness of peaches, something I’d studied carefully.

From the start, I never questioned whether this was an illusion; I simply believed the secret realm had transported me to some unknown, genuine location. Now, knowing this was a kind of mirage, much became clear: during my previous cycle, someone must have drugged me. The reason I was affected by such ordinary human concoctions was because, in this place, my body was no more than a common mortal shell, indistinguishable from any villager; hence, I succumbed to unconsciousness.

I drank too recklessly... In hindsight, I should have realized something was amiss while intoxicated. With my body refined through the Nine Transformations of the Ancient Demon, even without using spiritual energy to dispel the effects, it should have taken far more than a few rounds of drinks to make me so thoroughly drunk.

Given this is an illusion, the fatigue I felt each time I returned to the beginning can be explained. Reflecting on my last two endings, it’s likely I died twice already. After each death, my vitality and spirit weakened drastically, and this illusory body mirrored that decline. It must be tied to my soul; a few more cycles and my consciousness and soul would wither completely. Perhaps then, I would truly perish here.

Everything here is false—my body included. The one consolation is that my cultivation came with me: a mortal frame, a cultivator’s soul. My real body must still reside in the outer world.

Since this is a mirage, there’s no longer any question of how to leave, nor confusion about the village’s boundaries. Once I unravel the illusion, escape will come naturally.

After two prior experiences, the most suspicious person is her. Holmes Cai gazed out from within the house, her eyes deep and contemplative. In the courtyard, a breathtaking young woman of eighteen chased after a little chick with a boy, laughter echoing in the evening air.

Night fell again, lively voices and laughter filled the air, the scene identical to the previous feasts. But this time, the protagonist had already slipped away, feigning a bathroom break—there was no way I’d foolishly eat or drink here, knowing someone was out to drug me.

In Xiao Qian’s house, I sat alone on a bench in the courtyard, gazing up at the moon. The pristine orb and its silvery light were beautiful beyond words.

Outside the courtyard, footsteps approached—soft, almost imperceptible. Though my body was mortal, my cultivation remained, and I could still channel spiritual energy to enhance my senses, far surpassing ordinary people.

From afar, a graceful figure approached: Yaoyao. Her exquisite face flashed with worry and resolve, and I caught it all.

If, in the previous cycles, I was drugged, then Yaoyao—the one who poured my drinks—was the prime suspect. Recall her complex expression last time in my room; I had been careless, missing the signs right before my eyes.

Ah, women are devils—especially beautiful ones.

“Brother Song Cheng, are you feeling unwell? Everyone is enjoying themselves, but you disappeared,” Yaoyao approached and spoke.

“Yaoyao, I believe this is our first meeting,” I replied softly, looking up.

“Of course. Why do you ask?” Yaoyao questioned, puzzled.

“Have I ever wronged you?” I continued.

“Never,” she hurriedly shook her head.

“Then why do you wish to harm me?” Lowering my gaze to meet hers, I asked seriously, direct and unflinching.

In an instant, as if exposed, Yaoyao’s face turned pale. She crouched, coughing violently.

Seeing this, I rushed to her side, ignoring propriety, lifting her sleeve and grasping her wrist to channel spiritual energy into her body. The moment I did, I was shocked to see the fearsome scars marring her wrist.

Carefully guiding energy within her, I discovered wounds far worse than expected—internal injuries everywhere. It was a miracle she lived.

“You lied. You never suffered from cold intolerance,” I said solemnly.

“Who would’ve thought Brother Song Cheng was also a healer,” Yaoyao managed a pale smile.

“Forgive me.” Detecting something amiss, I did not hesitate; I rolled up her other sleeve, even slightly opened her collar.

What I saw was horrifying: scars everywhere, old wounds layered with fresh; some had healed years ago, others looked newly inflicted.

“What is this?” Panting heavily, I turned to Yaoyao, ignoring her blushing face.

“You... shouldn’t have come here,” she whispered, turning away.

“So you do know something, don’t you?” I pressed, desperate for answers.

“Go! Hurry, it’s almost time! Get to the largest peach tree outside the village!” Suddenly, Yaoyao shouted at me.

“The nights here—do they turn into nights of blood at a certain hour, with the moon becoming a blood moon?” Gripping her fragile wrist, I asked intently.

“How do you know?!” Yaoyao was startled.

“I also know the villagers transform into vengeful ghosts—hungry ghosts—when night falls. I’ve witnessed everything they do.”

“So what is this place, really?!”

As we spoke, the night began to change. The once bright moonlight faded into crimson; I looked up and saw blood seeping from the moon, until the blood moon hung high in the sky.

“Go!” With spiritual energy in her body, Yaoyao’s color improved slightly. She struggled to her feet, dragging me along as she ran.

I could only follow her toward the village outskirts. Along the way, hellish scenes unfolded before us.

Blood night. Blood moon. Blood everywhere.

Within Peach Blossom Village, every villager seemed possessed—mad, or overtaken by vengeful spirits. Hair wild, fangs bared, their once gentle faces twisted with savagery.

All reason gone, they tore at whatever they saw—be it livestock or humans, friend or kin. Heavy roars and frenzied biting, ripping, gnawing, until rivers of blood flowed through Peach Blossom Village, never ceasing, unaware even when their bellies burst.

It was a scene of utter carnage, sickening enough to turn the stomach. Yet, whether infected by their mania or influenced by the blood moon above, an unsettling exhilaration began to grow within me—restlessness, rage, bloodlust, until a wild thrill surged through my heart.

So intoxicating.

“What is the meaning of all this?!”

I shook my head violently, but my already weakened spirit could not withstand this surge. My vision blurred, my mind began to drift.