The Light of the Righteous Path Has Gone Offline - Chapter 1
“Clang—clang—”
The cold wind howled. Against the lonely mountain cliff, the rattling of chains rang out with startling clarity.
In the distance, a blood-red figure tore through the thorny undergrowth, sprinting toward the cliff with the desperate posture of someone fleeing for her life.
Dozens of figures pursued her at tremendous speed. Their fierce auras descended from above, enveloping the area.
One of them spoke in an icy voice.
“Ming Jing, the sealed forbidden grounds of Wuchang Mountain lie ahead. Where else do you think you can run?”
The woman called Ming Jing ignored them entirely.
The iron chains shackling her wrists and ankles scraped against the ground, stirring clouds of dust. Enduring the excruciating pain wracking her body, she continued running through the haze.
Then a sword aura shot out from behind and pierced straight through her knee.
She crashed heavily to her knees at the edge of the cliff.
Her bloodstained robes were caked with mud. A faint breeze swept aside the hair plastered across her face, revealing clear, exquisitely refined features beneath.
Black eyes. White lips. A face smeared with blood.
She looked utterly wretched.
Every wanted criminal hunted by the Human Realm Guards ended up in a miserable state.
But this was Ming Jing!
The chief disciple of the Wanxiang Dao Sect. A peerless genius who had appeared out of nowhere and shaken the entire Human Realm. At the tender age of fifteen, she had claimed the championship at the Spirit Dueling Tournament. Born with natural sword bones, she had slain demons and monsters with her blade and once stood beneath the brightest glory imaginable.
She was the light of the righteous path acknowledged by all heaven and earth—the blade of hope.
Yet someone like her was now bound in chains, kneeling before them.
The Human Realm Guards looked down from above at the renowned Chief Disciple Ming, who had risen to fame at such a young age. The darkest, most secretive pleasure and excitement welled up from the depths of their hearts.
Ming Jing raised her eyes and cast them an indifferent glance.
As she lowered her head again, her gaze swept over the abyss behind her. Then she simply dropped into the mud and dust, the chains around her body swaying with an almost rhythmic cadence.
The corner of her lips twitched.
“If it’s only the lot of you, you won’t be able to take me back.”
“Ha!”
One of the guards hovering in the air could not help letting out a contemptuous laugh.
“You?”
“A piece of trash who colluded with the demon race, had her cultivation destroyed, her sword bones shattered, and every meridian severed dares to make such arrogant claims?”
“Do you still think you’re the extraordinarily gifted chief disciple of the Wanxiang Dao Sect whose swordsmanship once soared above the clouds?”
Ming Jing remained calm.
She shook the chain around her wrist, braced herself against a nearby rock, and slowly rose to her feet. Tilting her head back, she looked up at them.
“You can try.”
She paused, then added, “But one person alone probably isn’t qualified.”
“Are you trying to provoke me?” The guard who had spoken first sneered. “This lord would certainly like to see what a peerless genius is capable of.”
The sword at his waist flew from its sheath.
Its blade flashed faintly as it shot toward her. He stepped through the air, bringing the crushing weight of heaven and earth down upon her.
Ming Jing narrowed her eyes.
The instant the sharp sword reached her, she raised her hand. Using the chain as a weapon, she swung it toward the blade.
Iron collided with sharpened steel, sending a thick cloud of dust billowing through the air.
Clang!
The chain snapped apart.
“Not good!”
Alarm surged through the guard’s heart. He flipped backward through the air and peered through the haze.
On Ming Jing’s blood-soaked face was the composed expression of someone whose scheme had succeeded.
He immediately circulated his spiritual energy and tried to retreat.
“Too late.”
Ming Jing’s lips curved upward, her eyes cold and detached.
She swung the chain that had broken into two sections and stepped forward.
The chain that had once imprisoned her freedom transformed into a deadly weapon. With effortless ease, it pierced through the guard’s chest.
Blood blossomed beneath the vast sky.
The woman stood there in bloodstained robes, her black hair whipping around her while dark mist coiled around her body.
She lifted one foot and stepped on the heavily injured guard who had fallen to the ground.
“Are you satisfied with what you’ve seen?”
He had called her a peerless genius.
Then she naturally had to teach him that such a reputation was not something just anyone could bear.
The clash had appeared solemn and momentous enough to be called a battle, but in truth, everything had happened in the span of a single instant.
By the time the guards hovering in the air reacted, they looked down and met Ming Jing’s chilly gaze.
Their blood seemed to freeze.
For a moment, none of them dared to move carelessly.
Ming Jing ignored them.
She shook the chain in her hand and remained silent for a while before suddenly asking in a low voice, “What happened to that person?”
The guard beneath her foot endured the pain and replied, “Who are you talking about?”
“The young man who said there was something wrong with the order when you arrested me in Little Stone Village.”
“The commander said that questioning the Realm Lord was a grave crime. He was executed according to the law.”
The guard’s body trembled faintly, afraid that Ming Jing would kill him in the next moment.
Ming Jing did not kill him.
She lowered her head.
The agony ravaging her ruined body corroded her consciousness. Amid the howling wind, she heard the murderous aura rushing toward her.
In the distance, a densely packed mass of Human Realm Guards arrived. They raised their sabers, spears, swords, and halberds and launched their attacks.
Her cultivation had already been destroyed.
All she had left were the battle instincts of a sword cultivator, carved deep into her bones.
The two broken lengths of chain could take at most two lives.
There was absolutely no way she could escape this wave of attacks.
Ming Jing watched the weapons approach with an indifferent expression.
Her broken body could not withstand the crushing pressure of those fierce auras, but she refused to fall.
Gritting her teeth, she pressed one hand against the jagged rocks and forced herself upright, standing tall as she watched death approach.
“Boom!”
At that moment, an icy beam of sword light tore through the distant sky.
It cut against the setting sun and pierced through the clouds and mist, arriving before the killing blows could land.
The sword stopped directly in front of Ming Jing’s heart.
Brilliant mystical light radiated from it, blasting away the chaotic currents of air.
The blade was as white as the moon, and its sword tassel resembled moonlight.
It was a sword Ming Jing knew very well.
It was also a sword whose name was revered by all living beings beneath heaven and earth.
It was called Yaoyue—Inviting the Moon.
And the owner of Yaoyue—
Ming Jing’s breathing faltered.
The densely gathered Human Realm Guards bowed their heads.
“Greetings, Young Dao Venerable.”
“No need for formalities.”
A cool, detached voice traveled across the sky.
Clouds and mist swirled beneath the sunlight.
A woman crossed the mountains and rivers and landed beside the cliff. Her cyan robes seemed dyed in the magnificent colors of heaven and earth.
She reached out and recalled the Yaoyue Sword, then raised her head to look at Ming Jing.
Ming Jing looked back at her.
Her black hair fell to her waist, and her cyan robes fluttered untouched by mortal dust.
Even in the cultivation world, where beauties were as numerous as clouds, she was exceptionally striking.
Her face was beautiful, but what drew even more attention than her appearance was her cold, aloof bearing and incomparable elegance.
She was the master of the Yaoyue Sword.
The Young Dao Venerable of the Wanxiang Dao Sect.
Like Ming Jing, she had become famous at a young age. She had once crossed all Six Realms alone, leaving turbulence and upheaval in her wake.
She was also the junior martial sister of the Wanxiang Dao Sect’s current sect master.
Zhe Yu.
“Junior Martial Aunt,” Ming Jing murmured.
Zhe Yu responded instinctively.
Her gaze moved away from Ming Jing’s blood-covered face and swept across the gruesome flesh exposed beneath her torn robes, the chains binding her wrists and ankles, and finally the utterly devastated meridians revealed by her spiritual perception.
Her eyes darkened slightly.
“Young Dao Venerable, Ming Jing colluded with the demon race. Her crime is unforgivable. We were ordered to capture her and return her to prison,” the Human Realm Guards explained beneath Zhe Yu’s icy gaze.
“I know.”
Zhe Yu spoke in a grave voice.
Looking directly at Ming Jing, she enunciated each word clearly.
“Come back with me.”
Ming Jing’s gaze froze.
She stared at the indifference between the woman’s brows, momentarily dazed. Shaking the chain in her hand, she asked, “Go back where?”
Her movements were small and seemingly light, but they caused the hideous wounds covering her body to split open.
Blood surged from them uncontrollably, quickly staining the patch of ground beneath her feet and the jagged rocks around her red.
Zhe Yu frowned.
The fingers wrapped around the Yaoyue Sword tightened unconsciously.
“To the Human Realm Prison, of course.”
The Human Realm Prison.
Ming Jing silently repeated those four words to herself.
Then she suddenly laughed softly.
“They say I colluded with the demon race. Is that what Junior Martial Aunt believes as well?”
The sunlight was clear, and the mountain wind was bitterly cold.
The woman in bloodstained robes stood with eyes that shone intensely.
She was asking Zhe Yu whether she believed their accusations.
Whether she believed Ming Jing had colluded with the demon race.
Zhe Yu remained silent.
The emotions in her eyes were as unfathomable as the deepest sea.
Her gaze rose from the trail of blood winding across the ground and landed on the black lotus brand between Ming Jing’s brows.
Her voice was as clear and cold as ice.
“The Black Lotus Demon Mark and the demonic aura surrounding your body—are you saying you did nothing?”
“I saw them with my own eyes. How could they possibly be false?”
The woman’s voice was as cold and crisp as shattered jade.
Ming Jing could not help tugging at the corner of her lips.
“You saw it with your own eyes?”
“Did Junior Martial Aunt personally see me colluding with the demon race?”
“Does something have to be true simply because you saw it with your own eyes?”
She pressed her questions one after another.
Dark-red blood spilled from her lips and fell into the pool of blood beneath her with a soft drip that seemed to shake the soul.
At that moment, the blazing sun hung high in the sky, its radiant light pouring down.
It was the time of day when yang energy was at its strongest.
Yet as Ming Jing stood beneath the sunlight, she felt as though she were trapped in an icy hell.
Zhe Yu’s brows drew together.
Her lips parted as though she wanted to say something, but in the end, she said nothing.
She merely tightened her grip on the Yaoyue Sword and stood between Ming Jing and the Human Realm Guards, her unwavering gaze revealing that she would not yield even a single step.
Ming Jing curved her lips.
After a long while, a quiet laugh escaped her.
“Does Junior Martial Aunt know—”
Her bloodstained robes fluttered in the gathering mountain wind. The smile on her face seemed to weep blood, while profound confusion and pain lay hidden within her brilliant eyes.
“My master personally took away my sword heart.”
Her voice was both calm and trembling.
Mixed with the faint rustling of wind through branches and leaves, her words rang out beside the silent, desolate ancient cliff with such clarity that no one could evade them.
Every word pierced the heart.
For the first time, an ordinary mortal emotion flashed through Zhe Yu’s perpetually indifferent eyes.
Her brows were sharp as swords, and amid her usual cold severity were shock and confusion.
Confusion.
The smile vanished from Ming Jing’s face.
The brightness in her eyes faded, leaving behind only an inescapable bitterness.
That was right.
She was confused as well.
She had clearly done nothing.
Why had they declared with such absolute certainty that she had colluded with the demon race?
Why had they destroyed her cultivation, shattered her sword bones, and severed her meridians without even listening to her explanation?
Why had they even taken away the sword heart—the most important thing a sword cultivator possessed?
That was a forbidden act so cruel and brutal that even heretical cultivators would not dare attempt it lightly.
It was something the Heavenly Dao could not tolerate.
Yet it had been done to her by her own master—the sect master of the Wanxiang Dao Sect—with his own hands.
Why?
Why did none of them believe her?
Sword cultivators pursued the Dao through the sword.
From the moment she was born, what kind of Dao had she truly been cultivating?
Was it the righteous path?
Ming Jing questioned herself, word by word.
Her gaze shifted away from Zhe Yu’s cold, beautiful face.
Then, without warning, she rapidly retreated, leaped into the air, and threw herself into the bottomless abyss behind her.
The Human Realm Prison—
Even if she died, she would never return there.
Ming Jing never walked the same road twice.
The chain around her ankles had already snapped into two during the previous fight.
After Zhe Yu’s arrival, the Human Realm Guards had instinctively backed away and were now some distance from her.
As for Zhe Yu, she had been lost in a daze ever since hearing Ming Jing’s revelation.
No one was able to stop her.
The sealed forbidden grounds of Wuchang Mountain were said to imprison a great demon that had once brought disaster upon the world.
Beneath the mountain was a bottomless abyss, surrounded by endless, violent astral winds.
With her cultivation destroyed, Ming Jing was certain to die after jumping into it.
“Xiao Jing!”
Behind her, a woman’s hysterical cry seemed to pierce the heavens.
Then came a chaotic chorus of desperate warnings.
“Young Dao Venerable, you mustn’t!”
But Ming Jing heard none of it.
Her body plummeted rapidly.
The astral winds swept her helplessly through the air. Pain had already given way to numbness, and each beat of her heart grew weaker than the last.
She kept her eyes open.
Then, as if from somewhere beyond the mortal world, an ethereal voice sounded beside her ear.
Word by word, it answered the deepest questions hidden within her heart.
“They accused you of colluding with the demon race because the plot required it.”
“They refused to believe you because they were under the influence of an intelligence-lowering halo.”
“Ming Jing, you are cannon fodder.”
Author’s Note
The story has officially begun!
A few notes before we start:
- Ming Jing will turn dark, but she will not destroy the world.
- Ming Jing will fall into the demonic path, but she will always remain clear-headed and rational.
- She is not a perfectly righteous, glorious, and morally upright character.
- The story contains mountains of original settings, and logic will serve the plot.
- Ming Jing possesses a slight irresistible-heartthrob quality.
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