The Light of the Righteous Path Has Gone Offline - Chapter 10

“Splash, splash.”

The water churned within the circular pool. Several streaks of silver could be faintly seen darting through the surging undercurrent.

Ming Jing approached in a neatly arranged red robe and stood lazily at the pool’s edge. Her gaze slowly lowered as an ink-black light flashed across her fingertips.

In the next instant, she abruptly raised a finger.

A streak of light broke through the rippling surface and struck the silver shadows.

Several splashing sounds rang through the air, and numerous small silver fish floated belly-up on the surface, bubbles spilling from their mouths.

Ming Jing’s dark gaze swept across them. With a flick of her sleeve, she gathered the fish and dropped them into a stone basket prepared beside the pool.

A length of red chain was wrapped around the bottom of the basket.

She reached out with her right hand, grasped the chain, and dragged the stone basket full of silver fish toward the distant pavilion.

The clear sound of stone scraping against the floor echoed throughout the silent cavern dwelling.

A small flame burned upon one of the candle stands embedded in the stone wall, illuminating the dark cavern with a faint trace of mortal warmth.

Ming Jing walked through the uneven pools of light and shadow.

She lifted the hem of her robe and leisurely sat upon a mountain rock beneath the pavilion, its surface worn smooth over time.

With practiced movements, she skewered the little silver fish and placed them upon a stone rack heated by bright red flames.

Then she casually sprinkled something over them.

Afterward, she closed her eyes and leaned back.

One leg was bent while the other stretched straight before her. She supported herself with her right hand, her head dipping toward the ground again and again.

With her eyes closed, her face was utterly still.

Illuminated by the shifting firelight, she possessed a decadent, fallen beauty.

“Crackle, crackle.”

The small red flames beneath the stone rack burned vigorously.

Oil gradually began dripping from the silver fish, and soon the aroma of roasted fish filled the entire cavern dwelling.

The person seated upon the rock still had her eyes closed.

Her brows rose like mountain peaks, while beneath her languid air lurked a faint, dark hostility.

No one could tell what she was thinking.

This was the ninth year since Ming Jing had fallen from the cliff.

Naturally, it was also the ninth year since she had crawled into the cavern dwelling, met Murong Chi, begged for help, made a transaction, and fallen into the demonic path.

Within this silent cavern, where no third living being existed besides her and Murong Chi, Ming Jing had spent those nine years staring at the sharp stone formations overhead and listening to each sluggish beat of her heart.

She had passed the years almost by counting every moment.

To Murong Chi, whose lifespan was measured in millennia and who had already been trapped inside this cavern for thousands of years, nine years amounted to little more than a few pale words flashing past as she opened and closed her eyes.

Perhaps Ming Jing’s arrival had made those years somewhat different.

Even so, they were far too brief.

But for Ming Jing—who had been only twenty years old before falling from the cliff—those nine years occupied almost half of the life she had truly lived.

They were long enough to inspire despair.

Nothing beneath the cliff had changed in nine years.

But had the world above already become an entirely different place?

Ming Jing kept her eyes closed in irritation.

Listening to the distant churning of the pool, she reached out and turned the skewered fish over.

The hostility between her brows grew increasingly intense.

She did not want to remain in this cavern any longer.

She wanted to return to the world above the cliff and see with her own eyes—

Were the old acquaintances who had personally struck her down into the dust doing well?

Did their Dao hearts ever trouble them?

But Murong Chi had not given her permission.

Therefore, Ming Jing could not leave.

Hostility rolled through her heart.

As she recalled the events of the past, Ming Jing clenched her fist, and her entire body became shrouded in a gloomy, sinister darkness that even sunlight could not illuminate.

“That smells wonderful.”

A cool voice broke the silence.

Murong Chi emerged from the stone chamber wearing a loosely draped red robe.

Her bare feet dragged a length of red chain across the floor, producing a series of metallic clangs.

Like a passing breeze, she sat beside Ming Jing and leaned her soft body against her.

She reached out, took the skewer of silver fish, and opened her mouth.

A continuous rustling sound followed as she ate, her puffed cheeks making her resemble a little hamster.

Ming Jing slowly opened her eyes.

After pausing, she turned toward Murong Chi.

The woman’s red robe hung loosely around her body. When she raised her arm, her sleeve slipped downward, fully exposing the red marks beneath it, as well as the scattered kiss marks along her neck.

Those were traces Ming Jing had left behind.

Ming Jing’s eyes flickered.

The helpless panic she had felt nine years ago was long gone from her heart, but the sight still stirred faint ripples within her.

She raised her head, her gaze falling upon Murong Chi’s ink-black hair.

After a moment of hesitation, she reached out and took a lock between her fingers, idly playing with it.

When she watched it slowly turn white again in her hand, her gaze deepened.

Then she released it and leaned back once more.

When Ming Jing first met Murong Chi, her hair had been white—the color of snow descending across heaven and earth.

Later, during their entanglements upon the bed, it would occasionally turn black.

It spread like glossy silk, smooth and richly lustrous.

Unless Ming Jing tightened her fingers, it would slip easily from her grasp.

When Murong Chi lay upon the bed, her black hair spread across the soul-freezing cold-jade ice bed, creating a striking contrast that seemed capable of shaking the soul.

Yet no matter how dark and inky it became, once she left the cold-jade ice bed, it would eventually return to the snowy white color it had always been.

Why?

Ming Jing did not know.

Murong Chi leaned against her, placing all her weight upon Ming Jing’s body.

When Ming Jing reclined farther back, Murong Chi inevitably tipped over with her.

The hand holding the fish skewer trembled slightly, and her entire body fell sideways into Ming Jing’s arms.

Oil dripping from the fish stained the hem of Ming Jing’s robe.

Murong Chi raised her eyes and cast Ming Jing an unhappy glance.

Then she adjusted her position, found a comfortable angle, and leaned against her again with practiced familiarity.

She continued concentrating on the fragrant roasted fish in her hand.

Ming Jing lowered her eyes and watched her, the emotion in her gaze deepening several degrees.

She had been with Murong Chi for nine years.

Through their countless entanglements upon the bed, they had done everything regarded as most intimate in this world.

Ming Jing had kissed Murong Chi’s lips.

She had seen the soul-stealing beauty of Murong Chi overcome with desire.

She had also traced the seductive charm between the corners of her brows and eyes.

It was almost as though the name Murong Chi had been woven into every moment of those nine years.

Even so, Ming Jing still felt that she could not understand her.

Murong Chi was like a cloud of mist.

She was like a hurried gust of wind.

Even more, she resembled a dark cloud concealed within the night, impossible to see through.

She remained an existence Ming Jing could not comprehend.

For example, the way Murong Chi now sat lazily upon the rock, leaning against Ming Jing with her sleeves rolled up as she seriously gnawed on roasted fish, felt strangely unfamiliar.

Murong Chi was languid and elegant.

Murong Chi possessed infinite charm.

Murong Chi was proud and unrestrained.

Her robes burned redder than flames, yet she always stood within darkness, breathtakingly beautiful and strangely seductive.

Ming Jing had never imagined that someone like her could hold a skewer of roasted fish and eat with such enthusiasm, her red lips stained with oil and her face filled with the warmth of ordinary life.

She had abandoned all concern for appearances.

This was not the first time Ming Jing had seen this side of Murong Chi, yet she still could not suppress her surprise.

Cultivators practiced inedia.

After breaking through the Sixth Realm, their spiritual energy underwent a fundamental transformation.

Their energy connected with heaven and earth, and their bodies became filled with the natural power of the world, removing the need to eat.

Before reaching the Sixth Realm, even cultivators who required nourishment generally chose to swallow medicinal pills.

Ordinary grains carried the aura of the mortal world. They provided no benefit to one’s cultivation path and could even become an obstruction.

Of course, these silver fish were not ordinary mortal food.

They lived within the undercurrents of the cold pool, their bodies resembling flowing silver light.

Each was no longer than a finger and possessed crystalline scales.

They were a type of spiritual creature recorded within the Myriad Spirits Totem, known as Silver Dragonfish.

They were born at the third rank and were rumored to possess dragon blood.

Eating them benefited one’s cultivation.

Murong Chi was an ancient demon, so she could refine the Silver Dragonfish even more efficiently than beings from the Human Realm.

Ever since Ming Jing arrived, Murong Chi had ordered her to catch some every so often.

After Ming Jing roasted them, Murong Chi—who had usually dual-cultivated with Ming Jing the previous day—would drag her body, covered in marks, over to lean against her and eat every last fish on the skewer.

Ming Jing did not know how Murong Chi had dealt with the Silver Dragonfish before her arrival.

She had never asked.

She merely watched Murong Chi and thought that even if these fish offered no benefit whatsoever to her cultivation, Murong Chi would probably still feast upon them simply because she enjoyed them.

Murong Chi was not someone who should be restrained by convention or limitations.

What she did depended entirely upon her mood.

Murong Chi.

Ming Jing repeated those three syllables within her heart.

Her thoughts drifted once more toward the cold-jade ice bed inside the stone chamber.

That bed was cold enough to freeze the soul.

Yet Murong Chi loved it.

Aside from the time she spent dual-cultivating with Ming Jing, Murong Chi usually remained upon it, sitting cross-legged in cultivation while frost formed by the cold air covered her body.

Many times, while Ming Jing cultivated her demonic art upon the white-jade couch outside, she would hear the woman’s restrained, muffled gasps.

When Ming Jing rose and hurried inside, she would see only dazzling crimson blood seeping into the cold jade.

Murong Chi would be seated upright, the outer layer of her robes half removed.

Sensing Ming Jing’s gaze, she would open her eyes and lazily glance over.

Her expression contained both deliberately summoned seduction and an uncontrollable, violent hostility.

She would curve her lips and smile, her voice clear and cool.

“What is it? Does the little one miss this sovereign?”

Murong Chi would bend her legs and change positions, her smile soul-stealing.

“If you miss me that badly, come here.”

“This sovereign will reward you once.”

Ming Jing would then lower her eyes, turn around without expression, and walk away.

But she never missed the trace of blood Murong Chi swallowed when she smiled.

After this happened many times, Ming Jing gradually realized that Murong Chi’s body did not like the cold-jade ice bed.

It rejected it to the point of vomiting blood and suffering chaotic spiritual energy.

But her soul loved it.

Loved it so deeply that the moment her hand touched the frozen surface and her eyes narrowed, she could ignore all pain.

The pleasure originating from the depths of her soul was enough to overcome everything.

This was also Murong Chi’s favorite position in bed.

No matter what they did, one of her hands always had to remain pressed against the surface of the cold-jade ice bed.

Her name burned more fiercely than flame.

Yet her soul was colder than ten-thousand-year profound ice.

Such a contradictory existence could somehow live within this world and possess such mysterious, overwhelming cultivation.

Ming Jing was lost in thought.

She did not notice that Murong Chi had finished eating the little fish at some point.

The woman now supported her head with her left hand and studied Ming Jing with great interest.

When Ming Jing continued ignoring her without noticing, Murong Chi narrowed her eyes and pinched Ming Jing’s chin.

Her voice was cool.

“What are you thinking about?”

Ming Jing returned to her senses.

Faced with Murong Chi’s breath at such close range, she blinked.

Her lips instinctively curved upward, and she answered with complete composure.

“I was thinking about you.”

Nine years had passed.

Ming Jing had lost count of how many times she and Murong Chi had become entangled upon the bed.

Everything she should know—and everything she perhaps should not know—Ming Jing now understood.

Her demonic aura was both clear and chaotic.

Her brows and eyes carried decadent indulgence.

Her choice of cultivation path was far from the only thing that had changed.

It could truly be said that Ming Jing had been completely reborn.

Naturally, she no longer lost all composure and fell into confusion before Murong Chi.

Instead, she had developed an expression that remained unmoved by any disturbance, concealing the emotions within her heart without revealing the slightest gap.

They both wore red.

On Murong Chi, it transformed her into a bewitching temptress of the mortal world, the movement of her robe enough to stir anyone’s heart.

On Ming Jing, it created a complex, shadowed elegance.

She resembled both the virtuous Liu Xiahui, who could remain unmoved with a beauty in his arms, and a reckless libertine long accustomed to romantic affairs.

At this moment, with Murong Chi deliberately teasing her, Ming Jing was the latter.

She curved her lips in a smile.

Her eyes shimmered more brilliantly than peach blossoms in spring.

Her voice was low and hoarse, resembling a lover whispering beside one’s ear.

When she lowered her gaze, her eyes focused on only one person.

Murong Chi.

It was as though she were looking at the woman she loved most, unwaveringly devoted and infinitely gentle.

The candlelight flickered throughout the cavern.

Two red-robed figures leaned against each other, resembling a mortal wedding scene in which a couple had bowed to heaven and earth before entering the bridal chamber.

She truly had changed greatly.

Murong Chi sighed softly within her heart, though the smile upon her face remained.

Taking advantage of their closeness, she shifted nearer and bent forward to kiss Ming Jing.

They had already kissed countless times.

One or two more would make no difference.

Besides, retreating now would give her the uncomfortable feeling that she had lost the upper hand.

Murong Chi was proud by nature.

Naturally, she was unwilling to place herself in such a position at any time.

Therefore, she moved quickly.

Just as she was about to capture those pale lips, Ming Jing reached out and caught the front of her robe.

Leaning backward, she avoided Murong Chi’s kiss.

Under Murong Chi’s partly displeased and partly intrigued gaze, Ming Jing continued smiling.

“Miss Murong, you haven’t wiped your mouth.”

Author’s Note

Ming Jing: Slightly disgusted~

Murong Chi: What? (cold laugh)

Ming Jing: QAQ

Honestly, I don’t think this is angsty. (whispers)