PID Chapter 20.1

Everything happened in an instant. Xiao Mo felt that he might have cried out, or perhaps he hadn’t.

 

The surroundings were filled with waves of screams and roars. Even if he had screamed, he might not have been able to hear his own voice.

 

The cultivation world was not just the square courtyards of the Chu family, nor was it only about Chu Jinglan and the inner demon tasks. Death and bloodshed unfolded before him without warning.

 

For someone who grew up in the stability of a modern society, watching a living person being torn apart right in front of him shattered all his calmness in that moment.

 

Xiao Mo gasped sharply, realizing only then that he had been holding his breath for a long time. The breathing of an inner demon was unique; unless he deliberately mimicked it, even Chu Jinglan would assume he didn’t breathe at all. That shattered head still faced him, its eyes already clouding over with a gray haze. Xiao Mo trembled. He wanted to retreat into his sea of consciousness, not wanting to look, but he had no choice but to face it.

 

This was not an illusion—these were real, living people.

 

If he wanted to enter the cultivation world, he would inevitably witness such cruel scenes again in the future.

 

Chu Jinglan’s eyes were bloodshot as he fought, his sword humming with a faint trace of sword intent forming. The bamboo forest swayed like pine waves as the pure white morning mist pierced through the dense clouds, scattering blood-red light. Chu Jinglan was no gentleman; the verdant bamboo forest had forged a sword meant for killing.

 

When the two demonic beasts were finally slain, everyone bore new wounds on their bodies, including Chu Jinglan and Su Baimo, who had remained unscathed until now.

 

But they were still luckier than the five others who could no longer move forward.

 

Having survived this ordeal, no one even suggested burying the poor souls’ remains anymore.

 

This place was too dangerous to linger. The first time they ignored Chu Jinglan’s warning and insisted on burying corpses in a blood-soaked danger zone, it had cost two more lives to the demonic beasts.

 

Chu Jinglan wiped the blood off his face, his gaze cold and murderous: “Let’s go.”

 

The young master of the Bian family helped Su Baimo up. Su Baimo had a shallow cut on his arm, while the young master’s old wounds had reopened. He said to Su Baimo, “Don’t be afraid.”

 

Su Baimo clung to him with trembling hands and feet. “Mm… mm…”

 

After walking for a long stretch, Xiao Mo couldn’t help but look back.

 

His view was now obscured by the grass and jagged rocks behind them. The uncollected corpses seemed buried layer by layer under the vegetation. White bones entwined with vines; ahead lay an uncertain path.

 

Countless cultivators had fallen on their path to ascend to heaven. In Chu Jinglan’s inevitable ending, he too would one day lie silently in the depths of the demonic domain, his gaze forever fixed on some distant point…

 

The corpses behind him were no longer visible. Xiao Mo took a heavy breath that seemed to choke every organ in his body with pain.

 

Life and death in an instant—this was the reality of the cultivation world.

 

On the fourth day, someone came—and someone died.

 

On the fifth day, no one arrived—but still someone died.

 

In a short span of time, Xiao Mo was overwhelmed by death after death. He still wasn’t used to it, but his body gradually stopped trembling.

 

For those fleeing for their lives, even grief became a luxury. Lives that flickered briefly like candles cast dark clouds over those who survived. Yet they pressed forward beneath those clouds.

 

Xiao Mo—a being seemingly both inside and outside this ordeal as an inner demon—was also slowly transforming into a true cultivator through what he witnessed.

 

By the sixth day, they finally broke through countless obstacles and reached the core area of the third level. Near the spirit crystal, it was temporarily safe; everyone could finally catch their breath.

 

Only twelve people remained.

 

When they saw the spirit crystal, everyone’s eyes lit up with excitement, but no one cheered—they were too exhausted. Forcing themselves into the core area had drained them completely; some even fainted as soon as they stepped inside. Chu Jinglan’s vision swam with black spots as he found a corner to sit against a stone wall.

 

The bandages on his body were tattered and stained with blood and dirt. His sword sheath had been thrown away during battle and never retrieved. His hands trembled from prolonged exertion and tension but never once loosened their grip on his sword.

 

Su Baimo sat not far from him with two others nearby—but not the young master of the Bian family.

 

The young master of the Bian family was dead.

 

Su Baimo had cried for a while but never mentioned him again. Too many people had died; those who survived were too busy running for their lives to dwell on grief. No one thought there was anything unusual about Su Baimo’s behavior.

 

Yet another person who had also lost their childhood companion would occasionally remember them during moments of rest and secretly wipe away tears. Su Baimo didn’t do that.

 

Something about him had indeed changed—or rather, certain unclear paths from his past had become clear now. Su Baimo had found his way to survive.

 

Chu Jinglan’s vigilance was stretched to its limit; even the slightest rustle could set his nerves on edge. He refused to let go of his sword under any circumstances. Beyond killing, his mind had grown numb. When it came time to change his bandages, he bit down on them with his teeth and prepared to wrap them single-handedly.

 

His mouth filled with blood and dirt as cold killing intent flickered in his eyes.

 

“Chu Jinglan.”

 

Chu Jinglan paused mid-motion with the bandage between his teeth and looked at Xiao Mo’s tiny inner demon form perched on his knee.

 

“I’ll keep watch for you,” Xiao Mo said. “Put down your sword for now and bandage your wounds properly.”

 

Someone asking him to put down his sword made Chu Jinglan instinctively tighten his grip on it. He bit down harder on the blood-stained bandage as he coldly met Xiao Mo’s gaze.

 

The inner demon’s small black eyes revealed no emotion but stubbornly held firm against him with determination.

 

The spirit crystal at this moment was dim and lifeless; low sobbing sounds echoed around them. The distant sky above this secret realm cast hazy light over these young cultivators’ shadows. Sitting deep within those shadows was Chu Jinglan—his handsome face cold as ice and expression unreadable.

 

After a long moment, his stiff fingers moved slightly—bit by bit—until they painfully released their grip on the blood-stained sword hilt.

 

Chu Jinglan finally let go of his sword.

 

The oppressive air began flowing again as Xiao Mo exhaled slowly. Perched on Chu Jinglan’s knee where no one else could see him, he quietly helped roll up one end of a bandage for him.

 

Chu Jinglan silently took it from him. His trembling hands almost failed to hold onto even this soft fabric after releasing his sword.

 

He applied medicine anew to his mangled wounds and replaced his bandages before closing his eyes to meditate. Xiao Mo lay silently on his knee, gazing at the spirit crystal without speaking a word.

 

In three hours’ time, the spirit crystal would light up again—and open their path homeward.

 

But so too would Chu Jinglan face an unavoidable calamity ahead.

 

After fleeing for so long, the disciples found the three hours of peace surreal at first, sinking into a hollow sense of unreality. Gradually, they began to relax. However, as time slowly ticked by, their anticipation turned into inevitable anxiety.

 

Once Chu Jinglan recovered most of his strength through meditation, he silently began cleaning his sword. The storage space of lower-realm disciples was limited; even disciples from noble families couldn’t carry endless wealth with them. Chu Jinglan had brought three spiritual swords on this journey—two were already broken. This was his last one.

 

Even this sword bore faint cracks.

 

The grueling three hours finally passed, and the spirit crystal began to stir.

 

The spirit crystal stood ten meters tall and three meters wide, stretching from the ground into the sky, connecting heaven and earth. When it suddenly erupted with radiant light, it was almost blinding, forcing everyone to squint or even tear up. Yet no one looked away. They stared at it with near-mad desperation, unwilling to miss a single moment despite the pain.

 

The secret realm was about to open. They could finally leave—finally!

 

The spirit crystal of the mountain gleamed like ancient amber, its orange light dazzling. Countless runes swirled rapidly within the massive stone, brimming with profound Daoist intent. Bathed in its spiritual glow, even their wounds seemed less painful.

 

Even Chu Jinglan stood up, staring unblinkingly at the spirit crystal with his jaw clenched tightly.

 

Xiao Mo’s situation, however, was not good.

 

What appeared to be a golden light of salvation to everyone else caused wisps of black mist to dissipate from Xiao Mo’s body. He felt as if he could hear an imaginary sizzling sound as if his entire being were burning. Every inch of him hurt—he had gone from being a salted fish to a frying fish about to be cooked through.

 

Yet Xiao Mo stubbornly clung to Chu Jinglan’s shoulder, refusing even to hide in his sleeve to escape the golden light.

 

Chu Jinglan noticed the black mist melting off the tiny inner demon on his shoulder and frowned. “Return to your sea of consciousness.”

 

Xiao Mo struggled to speak. “I… I can’t go back for now.”

 

Gritting his teeth, Xiao Mo stared at the golden light until suddenly his vision darkened.

 

Startled, Xiao Mo turned his head.

 

Chu Jinglan’s gaze remained fixed on the spirit crystal without sparing him a glance. However, Chu Jinglan’s hand had moved forward on his shoulder, shielding Xiao Mo from the light.

 

It seemed like an unconscious gesture.

 

Xiao Mo began trembling violently.

 

His throat tightened as he choked out a word: “Chu…”

 

But before he could finish, Chu Jinglan’s startled expression and the panicked cries around them interrupted him.

 

“It stopped? It stopped!?”

 

The beam of light from the spirit crystal that should have pierced through heaven and earth abruptly halted midway. It struggled to climb higher but hung precariously in midair. As everyone stared in panic and confusion, the golden light refused to give up and continued inching upward—but then they felt it.

 

The ground beneath their feet began to tremble.

 

Not just the ground—the sky as well!

 

Chu Jinglan whipped around sharply. “Xu Er!”

 

The second young master of the Xu family was covered in blood. “I’m calculating! I’m calculating!”

 

The Xu family specialized in talismans and formations. Xu Er’s fingers formed seals so quickly they left afterimages. His eyes were burned by the runes on the spirit crystal, streaming blood tears down his face as he desperately calculated amidst the quaking earth and mountains. Finally, he shouted in despair: “The secret realm is collapsing! The portal won’t open!”

 

Boom—

 

Xu Er’s broken voice was like a death sentence. Despair fell upon them like crumbling mountain rocks—inescapable and crushingly heavy. They could only watch helplessly as disaster loomed overhead, powerless against it.

 

Su Baimo knelt weakly on the ground like many others, his strength drained by fear and hopelessness.

 

How could this happen? Why? Were they all going to die?

 

Though Xiao Mo shouldn’t have been able to hear others’ thoughts, he suddenly felt a stirring in his heart—a faint murmur of voices reached his ears. The deep despair and terror of those around him transformed into invisible spiritual energy that surged toward him, soothing even the burning pain caused by the golden light.

 

A strange fragrance emanated from these people on the brink of mental collapse—a scent that left Xiao Mo dazed for a moment. So fragrant… so comforting…

 

But then a voice as cold as frost shattered through the thick haze of scent, jolting Xiao Mo back to clarity.

 

Amidst towering cliffs and trembling earth stood Chu Jinglan alone—unmoving like a pine tree. He looked at Xu Er with calm eyes devoid of despair: “You have a solution.”

 

It wasn’t a question; it was a statement.

 

Xu Er met Chu Jinglan’s unwavering gaze but couldn’t bring himself to speak.

 

He trembled violently and wiped at his bloodied face in vain until finally giving up in frustration: “…Yes, there is a solution.”

 

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