For some reason, Wu Yan (Yan) did not fall into an Illusionary Realm of her own. She only felt a sudden darkness before her eyes and a tremor in the surrounding space upon entering the area.
When she opened her eyes, she was already standing before a vast, dark red wasteland that stretched to the horizon.
The sky was gray, the earth was black, and the air was filled with the suffocating scent of blood and rotting corpses.
There was no wind, no sound, only a deathly silence.
Is this Hell?
No, that’s not right.
Wu Yan (Yan) keenly sensed a slight abnormality.
She discovered that her Sea of Consciousness seemed to have gone blank for a moment. The usually chattering, highly present Wu Yan (Inner)—who was always either acting spoiled or cursing—had unexpectedly become incredibly quiet.
There was even a hazy sense of detachment.
“Is this… Wu Yan (Inner)’s Illusionary Realm?”
Wu Yan (Yan)’s heart stirred.
When the Nine-Bend Soul-Confusing Array launched its attack, for some reason, it had skipped her and directly targeted the Wu Yan (Inner) hiding within her body.
She lifted her head and looked toward the center of the wasteland.
There stood a throne piled high with countless white bones, towering into the clouds, lonely and hideous.
A figure in robes as red as fire sat solitary upon the throne.
It was Wu Yan (Inner).
But she was completely different from the tooth-baring, expression-filled, and even slightly childish Wu Yan (Inner) that Wu Yan (Yan) usually saw.
The Wu Yan (Inner) within the Illusionary Realm was as quiet as a lifeless statue.
She wore the red robes symbolizing the glory of the Demon Venerable, and in her hand, she gripped a dripping demonic sword.
Beneath her feet, ten thousand Demonic Cultivators prostrated themselves, shouting “Long live the Demon Venerable” in voices that shook the heavens and earth.
However, Wu Yan (Inner)’s eyes were empty.
That kind of emptiness was like a child who had lost her way in a heavy rain, unable to find home and with no one coming to get her.
She looked at the people beneath her who revered her, but there wasn’t a trace of joy in her eyes—only endless weariness and cold.
The images began to flicker rapidly, and Wu Yan (Yan) saw everything the other had once experienced—
It was a cold winter night. At that time, she was inside Wu Yan (Inner)’s body, only able to watch as a bystander.
Facing the empty wilderness, Wu Yan (Inner) softly said, “Happy birthday,” and then silently ate a white flour bun picked up from a pile of corpses. She choked as tears welled in her eyes, yet they never fell.
Wu Yan (Yan) saw her injured, licking her wounds alone in a cold, damp cave.
Wu Yan (Yan) saw her reach the summit, becoming a Demon Venerable who made everyone tremble with fear. Everyone feared her and respected her, yet everyone was also plotting against her behind her back.
She stood at the highest mountain peak with no one behind her.
Finally, it was the night of the decisive battle that led to her death.
That Junior Sister Yu Qingyao—whom she once thought was slightly interesting and even secretly envied in her heart—ignited her divine soul and dealt her a fatal blow.
She fell in a pool of blood, looking at the cheering people of the Righteous Path and the Demonic Cultivators who breathed a sigh of relief because she had fallen.
She opened her mouth, seemingly wanting to say something.
But in the end, nothing came out.
She was just a single person, hiding in a dark corner, curling her body up like an abandoned infant. In this noisy world, she silently closed her eyes alone.
From beginning to end, whether in life or death, honor or disgrace, she was always alone.
…
Wu Yan (Yan) watched all of this quietly.
She knew that the red-robed demon’s hands were stained with blood and her crimes were too numerous to record; falling to such an end was what she deserved.
However…
Looking at the little girl making a wish toward withered grass on her birthday, looking at that figure curled into a ball before death.
Wu Yan (Yan)’s heart still throbbed with an uncontrollable ache.
Deep within the Sea of Consciousness, the usually clear red-robed figure had become somewhat blurry, as if trapped in some deep nightmare, trembling slightly.
“Wake up.”
Wu Yan (Yan) spoke softly, her voice lacking its usual coldness and carrying a trace of unnoticeable tenderness.
She knew this was just an Illusionary Realm, an Inner Demon triggered by the array.
But she couldn’t bear to keep watching.
Even if it was Wu Yan (Inner), she shouldn’t be imprisoned in this eternal loneliness and sliced apart over and over again.
“Zheng—!”
The Severing Delusion in her hand let out a clear sword chime.
Wu Yan (Yan) raised her hand. Without using any complicated sword moves, she simply delivered a straightforward vertical slash.
The sword light was as pure as water, instantly cleaving through that dark red wasteland, shattering the lonely throne, and severing that suffocating loneliness.
Crack—
The Illusionary Realm shattered like glass.
…
Wu Yan (Yan)’s vision went dark, and then her clarity returned.
She was still standing at the entrance of the canyon, surrounded by gray mist.
She immediately scanned her surroundings.
Gu Jian and the other two outer sect disciples were standing nearby. Although their expressions were somewhat dull and they were drooling, clearly still immersed in the Illusionary Realm, their breathing was steady and their complexions were healthy.
Because their cultivation was lower and their Inner Demons weren’t heavy, the Illusionary Realm’s aggression toward them wasn’t strong; at most, they were having a nightmare.
Beside her, Wu Yan (Inner) quietly recovered at some point. She stretched and then leaned lazily against Wu Yan (Yan)’s shoulder: “Mm~~ I really had a good dream!”
Wu Yan (Yan) ignored her.
Because she noticed that Bai Zhiqiu’s situation seemed quite bad.
This genius girl of the Tianyan Sect was currently as pale as paper, her body trembling violently, and cold sweat had already soaked the clothes on her back.
Her teeth were chattering, and her hands were deathly pale as they gripped her hair tightly, as if she were experiencing something extremely terrifying.
“No, don’t—I didn’t calculate incorrectly…”
Broken groans squeezed out of her throat, and blood-tears even seeped from the corners of her eyes. That was a sign that her divine soul was about to collapse.
“Miss Bai!” Wu Yan (Yan)’s heart tightened, and she was just about to step forward.
“Ignore that fortune teller! If she wants to die, let her! Hurry and find the treasures in this place!”
Wu Yan (Yan) paused for a moment.
She glanced toward the depths of the canyon; there was no sign of Yu Qingyao there.
Combining Gu Jian and the others’ situations, Yu Qingyao—whose cultivation was similar to theirs—would clearly not encounter a too-severe Illusionary Realm.
Since Yu Qingyao wasn’t here, she had obviously already escaped the Illusionary Realm and might have even gone deeper to obtain an opportunity.
She looked again at Bai Zhiqiu, who could suffer Chi Deviation at any moment.
“Remember to cover me again.”
Wu Yan (Yan) suddenly remembered what the girl—who could have originally left on her own—had said before they entered the Soul-Bewildering Array together.
A rare smile appeared on Wu Yan (Yan)’s face:
“Since she is willing to entrust her life to me, then I shall never betray her trust.”
Without the slightest hesitation, she walked directly to Bai Zhiqiu.
She reached out and grabbed Bai Zhiqiu’s cold, trembling wrist.
Relying on her own powerful divine soul, she forcibly shoved a wisp of her consciousness through their skin contact and into Bai Zhiqiu’s collapsing Sea of Consciousness and Illusionary Realm.
This was a pitch-black world where one couldn’t see their own hand.
There was no light, no sound, only endless despair and oppression.
Bai Zhiqiu was curled up in a dark corner like a frightened little beast.
In front of her was a massive, pitch-black demonic shadow.
The demonic shadow held a dripping sickle, and beneath its feet were the corpses of countless Tianyan Sect disciples, her Master who only had half a face left, and everything she cherished.
“You can’t calculate it! You can’t calculate anything!”
“You only bring death!”
“Die! Go to your death with your sins—!”
The demonic shadow let out a deafening roar, its voice exploding in Bai Zhiqiu’s mind like thunder.
It raised its sickle high and slashed down ruthlessly toward the girl who had already given up resistance, her eyes filled with the gray of death!
Bai Zhiqiu closed her eyes in despair.
She knew this was an Illusionary Realm, but she couldn’t wake up.
That bone-deep self-doubt was more lethal than any physical attack.
Just as the reaper’s sickle was about to touch her neck—
“Dang—!!!”
A deafening sound of clashing metal exploded in the dead silence of the darkness.
The expected pain did not arrive.
Bai Zhiqiu’s eyelashes trembled as she slowly opened them a sliver.
In that instant, her pupils dilated sharply.
A long sword with a dark brown mark on its blade stood horizontally between her and the demonic shadow.
Before the endless darkness and the terrifying demonic shadow, a plain white figure stood firm like a pillar holding up the heavens.
“Who allowed you to touch her?”
The cool voice rang out, devoid of any worldly attachment.
Wu Yan (Yan) stood with her back to Bai Zhiqiu. That white robe in this pitch-black Illusionary Realm was breathtakingly bright, like the first ray of dawn tearing through an eternal night.
Her back wasn’t broad, yet it was like an insurmountable mountain, blocking all fear and darkness behind it.
“Taoist… Taoist Wu?” Bai Zhiqiu stared blankly at that back.
“Chila—!”
A dazzling sword light lit up in the dark space.
It was like a hot knife through butter, or sunlight piercing through dark clouds.
That sword strike, carrying an aura that seemed like it would tear the entire sky apart, swept outward.
Under this sword strike, the massive black demonic shadow didn’t even have time to scream before it rapidly melted and disintegrated like snow meeting a blazing sun.
The darkness shattered, and light returned.
Wu Yan (Yan) sheathed her sword and stood still. She turned around and reached out toward Bai Zhiqiu, who was still slumped on the ground.
Standing against the light, her face carried its usual cool indifference.
“Miss Bai.”
Wu Yan (Yan) looked at her, her tone flat, as if waking a friend who was oversleeping:
“It’s time to wake up.”
…
“Hu—!!!”
Bai Zhiqiu snapped her eyes open, gasping for breath like someone who had just been rescued from drowning in the deep sea.
Cold sweat dripped from her forehead, wetting her eyelashes, and the scene before her eyes still appeared blurry.
Her heart was pounding violently, and her hands and feet were ice-cold as if the fear from the Illusionary Realm still lingered.
Her vision gradually focused.
What entered her sight was the gray mist and the figure standing before her, dressed in a plain white Daoist robe, standing tall and cold.
Wu Yan (Yan) had already let go of her hand and was standing quietly to the side, her expression normal.
Nearby, Gu Jian and the other two disciples also woke up one after another, rubbing their heads with bewildered looks, clearly unaware of what had just happened.
Bai Zhiqiu stared blankly at Wu Yan (Yan).
The scene from the Illusionary Realm just now gradually overlapped with this real figure.
That feeling of having someone descend like a divine soldier to stand in front of her and cleave a path between life and death when she was being swallowed by despair was too shocking.
It was like a meteorite slamming into her heart’s lake, which had been as still as water, stirring up monstrous waves.
“Taoist Wu, did… did something happen just now?”
Bai Zhiqiu opened her mouth, her voice still trembling slightly.
Wu Yan (Yan) first handed Bai Zhiqiu a handkerchief, and then those ink-colored eyes looked at her, revealing appropriate doubt:
“No. After I left the Illusionary Realm, I found you all standing in place, so I have been guarding you.”
Bai Zhiqiu did not believe Wu Yan (Yan)’s explanation. Her gaze shifted and finally fixed on the long sword in Wu Yan (Yan)’s hand that had a dark brown mark on the blade.
“Daoist Wu, has anyone ever told you that this sword of yours is really ugly~”
The teasing voice was mixed with a hint of a sob.
Wu Yan (Yan) looked down at the Severing Delusion in her hand and casually slid it back into its scabbard:
“If it can swing, it is a good sword.”
After saying that, she looked toward the depths of the canyon, her gaze narrowing slightly.
“Yu Qingyao is still inside. There’s no time to waste.”
Wu Yan (Yan) turned to the group, resuming her role as the swift and decisive team leader, her voice cold:
“Everyone, rest where you are for a moment. If you don’t need to rest, follow me.” “Yes!” Although Gu Jian was still dazed, seeing his Senior Sister like this, he immediately straightened his back.
Bai Zhiqiu took a deep breath, pulled a handful of medicinal pills from her Storage Ring, and stuffed them into her mouth, chewing and swallowing them like candy.
She wiped the cold sweat from her face and took out her Lopan again. Her eyes became shrewd and sharp once more, though the look she directed at Wu Yan (Yan) now held an unprecedented firmness and reliance.
“Let’s go!” A somewhat pale smile curled on the corner of Bai Zhiqiu’s mouth. “This lady wants to see what kind of ghostly thing is hiding in here that dares to plot against me!”
Wu Yan (Yan) gave a slight nod and took the lead, walking toward the faint Altar visible in the depths of the canyon.
Behind her, Bai Zhiqiu watched that back, her fingers gently stroking the needle of the Lopan in her hand.
So what if the hexagrams couldn’t be calculated accurately?
As long as she followed this person… it seemed there was nothing to be afraid of.
After all, she had promised that she would cover her.