“Demonic Sword [Nightmare]…”
Gazing at the exceptionally sharp weapon in the wooden case, the girl in the red dress murmured absentmindedly, her phoenix eyes revealing a subtle, enchanting daze.
The demonic sword, coveted by countless people, was being offered to her by this newly acquainted, refined young man without asking for anything in return.
With such a pure and upright character, he must have had a tough time in the filthy, dark Wei King’s Mansion all these years.
At this thought, a touch of pity flickered in her autumn-water eyes.
“Heroine Ji, you should rest early. I’ll keep watch tonight, and we’ll leave at first light,” Ji Yanqing said gently, his voice full of concern.
“How can that be? You’re badly injured…”
“Exactly because I’m badly injured, I need your help to leave the Ghost Shadow Mountains. If anything happens to you, I’ll have no hope of survival.”
“But your injuries…”
“I won’t die from them. Besides, injuries like these won’t heal with just one night’s rest.”
With that, Ji Yanqing sat close to the campfire, leaning against the mud wall with a smile, as if reassuring the girl to rest easy.
This young master is kind, but he underestimates me. A grandmaster of the Transformation Realm hardly needs sleep…
Yawn. “So sleepy.”
Despite her inner defiance, her body was brutally honest.
For dozens of days, she had tirelessly searched the Ghost Shadow Mountains for traces of Heart-Devouring Temple, without rest, while constantly guarding against hidden demonic beasts.
Even a Transformation Realm cultivator couldn’t withstand such pressure.
Ji Qingyan, oh Ji Qingyan, why do you always falter at critical moments?!
The red-dressed girl clenched her fists secretly, responding with a hint of resentment, “Got it, but don’t push yourself too hard, Young Master.”
Only after he nodded did she smooth her dark hair, lie down on her side hugging the demonic sword Nightmare, with her sword Shadow Bearer placed nearby.
The campfire crackled, illuminating half the wall brightly.
Ji Yanqing’s peripheral vision glanced at the sleeping red-dressed girl. The more he looked, the more beautiful she seemed.
The so-called courtesans in the pleasure houses couldn’t compare to even a fraction of her charm.
Her phoenix eyes were alluring and seductive, her nose delicate and exquisite, her face surpassing the purity of winter snow. Even without lifting her veil, one could imagine her peerless beauty.
This red-dressed heroine, with her righteous hatred for evil, guileless nature, and stunning appearance, had never once been captured by some debauched noble while upholding justice—a rare feat indeed.
The protagonist’s halo is truly powerful, Ji Yanqing sighed inwardly.
[Gazing at the girl’s breathtaking sleeping face, a flicker of greed flashes in your eyes, your heart pounding. Indeed, since someone will eventually claim her first night, why can’t it be you?]
What the hell kind of thought is that?! Is this something a human would say?!
Worst of all, after that sleazy system prompt, Ji Yanqing, as a lowly villain, actually felt a twinge of temptation at the idea of defiling the heroine. After all, role-playing could never compare to the thrill of the real thing.
Biting his tongue, the metallic taste of blood spread in his mouth.
Only then did Ji Yanqing barely manage to banish the wicked thoughts from his mind. He hurriedly averted his gaze, silently reciting:
“Within books lie golden houses, within books lie beauties like jade. No matter how stunning a woman, gazing at her ten thousand times won’t make her yours. But the knowledge in books, studied ten thousand times, becomes your treasure.”
Immediately, he shifted his focus, pulling out the Soul-Coagulating Nether Art from his sleeve and began reading intently.
Rustle, rustle.
The sound of turning pages echoed in the quiet temple.
But moments later, Ji Yanqing abruptly closed the book, his face full of existential doubt.
As one of only five Origin Path-tier techniques in the game, the Soul-Coagulating Nether Art was written in barely comprehensible, esoteric ancient prose, riddled with obscure and convoluted phrases.
What was refining the soul? What was binding the spirit to form? What was the movement of intent and soul, or the projection of divine will?
Each word was Chinese, and he could understand them individually, but strung together, they baffled him completely.
Who am I?
Where am I?
What is this stuff?
…
After a long silence, Ji Yanqing rubbed his temples, his thoughts in disarray.
Clearly, a technique like the Soul-Coagulating Nether Art was beyond his current ability to master.
It was like saying: You’ve learned 1+1=2, now go research controlled nuclear fusion.
After a quick skim, Ji Yanqing couldn’t claim to fully understand it—he’d gained nothing at all.
By normal logic, practicing the Soul-Coagulating Nether Art would have to wait, as no one could cultivate from an incomprehensible manual.
But while he couldn’t understand it, he could enlighten himself!
This was the perfect chance to test the system reward he’d just earned.
Ji Yanqing decisively used his Epiphany point and reopened the manual, reading carefully.
As his delicate peach-blossom eyes scanned the yellowed pages, the ancient text seemed to come alive.
Key characters were linked by an invisible red thread, and missing pieces were instantly filled in by his mind.
He rapidly flipped through the pages while channeling his spiritual energy according to the described method. Intricate, eerie patterns began spreading across his forehead, and the aura he exuded grew chilling.
In an instant, a unique spiritual energy surged from his dantian to his crown.
A sharp, agonizing pain erupted, as if a blade were stabbing and churning in his brain.
Ji Yanqing convulsed on the ground, limbs twitching, face pale as paper, teeth nearly shattered from clenching.
To avoid arousing Ji Qingyan’s suspicion, he stifled any sound, lying as still as a silkworm in its cocoon.
The pain slowly faded with time, the strange patterns on his forehead receding into his skin, his clothes drenched with sweat.
At that moment, the first layer of the Soul-Coagulating Nether Art was complete.
His divine sense, forged from spiritual energy, extended outward, perceiving every movement within a hundred-meter radius of Heart-Devouring Temple. Even the veins of leaves were crystal clear to him.
In the dense forest beyond, nearly thirty goose-feather blades gleamed with cold light, cutting through the silent night, closing in on the temple from all directions.
Leading them was a one-eyed man in a blood-patterned black robe, muscular and imposing, exuding an aura of extreme danger.
He wielded a nine-ringed saber, domineering and razor-sharp, its blade wrapped in meteoric steel.
Judging by their auras, the black-clad swordsmen were all at the Radiant Sun Realm, while their leader was a genuine Transformation Realm expert.
In Chronicles of the Azure Goddess, cultivators were divided into seven realms: Qi Condensation and Spirit Gathering (the Initial Glimpse Realms), Radiant Sun and Qian Yuan (the Path-Honing Realms), followed by Transformation, Sagehood, and the legendary Immortal Realm.
Ji Yanqing’s heart sank. To deal with a mere Qi Condensation nobody like him, was it really necessary to bring a force meant for hunting Transformation Realm experts?
And what kind of villain sends a Transformation Realm master to kill the protagonist before they’ve even grown? Shouldn’t they send fodder for experience points to help the protagonist level up?
Oh, right—he was the sleazy villain. Never mind, then.
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