The Light of the Righteous Path Has Gone Offline - Chapter 5

Ming Jing’s breathing faltered.

She lowered her head and refused to look at Murong Chi. A trace of helpless irritation rose within her, though she also felt that such irritation was entirely unwarranted.

Murong Chi watched her for a long time before finally bursting into laughter.

The sound was melodious and seemed to come from the bottom of her heart. Amused delight rippled through her eyes.

“Are you shy?”

A faint breeze slipped through a crack in the cavern dwelling, lifting her vivid red robes and making them flutter through the air.

She stood amid the flickering gloom and laughed, wave after wave of emotion spreading through her eyes. Her bloodstained lips curved upward, and her devastating beauty was so radiant that not even the darkness of the entire cavern could suppress it.

Unfortunately, Ming Jing kept her head lowered and did not see any of it.

Her clenched fist struck the water, sending spray across the pool. The current churned, carrying the remnants of her torn, blood-soaked robes farther away.

Murong Chi chuckled softly.

“I’ll wait for you.”

Then she turned away of her own accord and strolled leisurely to the far side of the circular pool, stopping beside the plants growing from the cracks between the stones.

Ming Jing breathed a sigh of relief.

She lowered her eyes to the pile of clothing beside the pool, her expression growing thoughtful.

The fabric was smooth to the touch and of exceptional quality. It had been woven from silk produced by Cloud-Weaving Larks, spirit beasts native to the North Sea.

Even within the great sects and sacred strongholds, such robes would be priceless treasures beyond the reach of ordinary disciples.

How had Murong Chi, imprisoned within these sealed grounds, obtained such magnificent clothing?

The question flashed briefly through Ming Jing’s mind.

She stared silently at the pile of robes, every single one of them red, and a trace of darkness entered her eyes.

Reaching out, she casually selected one.

The moment her arm broke through the surface, she endured the pain in the tendons of her hand and shook the robe open, wrapping herself tightly from head to toe.

Wet footprints spread across the ground beside the pool.

Barefoot, Ming Jing walked forward through the water and stopped some distance from Murong Chi.

Her freshly washed voice sounded especially clear and cool.

“Murong Chi.”

Murong Chi turned around.

The instant she saw Ming Jing, astonishment flashed through her eyes.

It was quickly replaced by a dark, brooding expression. Even the smile at the corner of her lips became mocking as she looked Ming Jing over with an unpredictable gaze.

The woman before her was wrapped in brilliant red brocade. Her wet black hair hung down her back, and she stood perfectly straight.

The cavern dwelling was dark and silent, and Ming Jing’s eyes were equally dim.

Yet the aura flowing around her was completely incompatible with this place.

It was a kind of upright, radiant purity that Murong Chi did not dare look at directly—something she had once loved but now despised above all else.

It was also known as the youthful sharpness of a sword cultivator.

It was utterly pure, as though it radiated from Ming Jing’s very bones.

Murong Chi loathed that quality.

Even more than that, she wanted to shatter Ming Jing, the person who possessed it, with her own hands.

Thus, under Ming Jing’s confused and faintly uneasy gaze, Murong Chi curved her lips into a bewitching smile.

Her voice carried an authority that tolerated no refusal.

“Come here.”

Within the vast, empty cavern, her melodious voice struck the stone walls and returned as an ethereal echo.

Ming Jing’s heart trembled.

She walked closer and raised her head, meeting Murong Chi’s eyes, which seemed filled with countless emotions.

They stood extremely close.

At such a short distance, Ming Jing’s mind wavered beneath the sight of that face, which remained breathtaking no matter how many times she saw it.

Then something soft touched her shoulder.

Murong Chi placed a hand upon it and leaned close to Ming Jing’s ear, her breath fragrant.

“Hold me.”

“Ming Jing, carry me over there.”

Murong Chi pointed toward the white-jade couch.

Ming Jing’s meridians were completely severed. Simply remaining on her feet was already the limit of what she could endure.

How could she possibly carry Murong Chi?

She wanted to refuse.

However, the moment she raised her eyes and saw the emotion within Murong Chi’s gaze, her breathing stopped, and cold sweat broke out across her back.

Those eyes were pitch-black, without the slightest glimmer of light.

They were as silent as the deepest sea, filled with ridicule, mockery, arrogance, and overwhelming superiority.

Their coldness remained unchanged, but now it was joined by an even darker hostility.

Murong Chi was ordering her.

Once Ming Jing realized this, bitterness filled her heart.

What use was a life-and-death contract?

If Murong Chi wanted her dead, how could the contract stop her?

Since Murong Chi had been able to establish it, she could naturally dissolve it whenever she pleased.

Ming Jing had to obey her.

This was not a request.

It was a declaration—an order she was forbidden to disobey.

From the moment Ming Jing crawled into this cavern dwelling, she had been nothing more than a prisoner.

Murong Chi’s prisoner.

Therefore, she could not refuse to obey.

The breeze abruptly ceased.

The air currents within the cavern weakened and fell still. Even the green grass growing through the cracks in the stone stopped swaying.

“Yes,” Ming Jing answered.

She bent down, lifted Murong Chi into her arms, and carried her toward the white-jade couch.

The woman’s waist was soft, and her body was not heavy.

Even the fragrance lingering around her was pleasant, an icy scent touched by medicinal herbs.

Yet cold sweat poured down Ming Jing’s back, nearly soaking through her brand-new brocade robe.

Every step brought heart-piercing pain.

It was only a dozen or so paces, but by the time she placed Murong Chi down, a thin layer of sweat had gathered across Ming Jing’s forehead, and her breathing had become slightly hurried.

Murong Chi looked at her.

Something flashed through her eyes.

She picked up a spotless white handkerchief and motioned with her gaze for Ming Jing to bend down.

Her fingers curved as she meticulously wiped away the ring of perspiration from Ming Jing’s forehead.

Smiling cheerfully, she said, “Clean again.”

Ming Jing lowered her head and allowed Murong Chi to do as she pleased.

Pain surged through the soles of her feet.

Still watching Murong Chi, she lifted the hem of her robe and sat down upon the white-jade couch, directly facing the meaningful look in the other woman’s eyes.

“Do you know how to dual-cultivate?”

Murong Chi reclined lazily against the couch.

Her eyebrows lifted, and the instant her crimson lips parted, Ming Jing’s heart nearly stopped.

Dual cultivation.

Of course Ming Jing had heard of it.

The Great Dao was long and endless. There would always be cultivators who could not withstand the loneliness of such an arduous journey.

They would choose a Dao companion, merge their spiritual energy, and intertwine their souls.

The resulting spiritual energy would be exceptionally pure, increasing their chances of success when attempting to break through the barriers between cultivation realms.

In the past, Ming Jing had never considered becoming anyone’s Dao companion.

Dual cultivation had been even further from her thoughts.

Her talent was extraordinary. She never needed to worry about the advancement of her cultivation.

The only companion she had ever acknowledged was the sword in her hand.

Now, that sword was broken.

And so she was going to dual-cultivate.

With Murong Chi.

“I don’t know,” Ming Jing answered, shaking her head.

“You don’t?”

Murong Chi’s surprise was plainly visible, and the hostility in her eyes faded slightly.

She sat upright on the couch. The corners of her eyes lifted, and her smile became bewitching enough to steal one’s soul.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t know.”

“I’ll teach you.”

Her pale fingers seized the front of Ming Jing’s robe, forcing her to lean down and follow Murong Chi’s pull.

Scorching breath fell against Ming Jing’s neck.

Murong Chi’s lips brushed across Ming Jing’s jaw. Still gripping her robe, she slowly pulled Ming Jing down with her.

One arm slipped around Ming Jing’s waist.

Her voice was teasing.

“Have you understood anything yet?”

The woman’s smooth, loose hair pressed against Ming Jing.

Her red lips parted and closed around the flushed tip of Ming Jing’s ear.

Her voice was clear and cold yet seductively soft as she spoke at length, every sentence threaded with intimacy.

Ming Jing’s eyes widened.

Her breathing became unsteady.

Braced over Murong Chi, she met those black eyes, deep and alluring, and stammered in astonishment.

“Is it… is it me? I…”

Murong Chi watched Ming Jing’s eyelashes tremble from such flustered confusion, and the smile on her lips deepened.

“Dual cultivation with you is meant to break the seal upon me.”

“You were born with natural sword bones. Even though they have been shattered, pure sword aura still remains inside you. Since I need that sword aura, naturally, you must be the one to do it.”

“Otherwise, why would we need to dual-cultivate?”

Murong Chi laughed with delight.

Her shimmering eyes glanced up at Ming Jing, arrogance flowing between her brows.

“Did you think I had taken a liking to you?”

In this vast world, there was no longer anyone worthy of her attention.

Despite holding a fragrant, soft beauty in her arms, Ming Jing felt not the slightest trace of romantic intimacy.

Cold sweat seeped from her back and soaked her brocade robe.

Her heartbeat was chaotic, but the emotions within her heart were stiff and numb.

Who could possibly take a liking to someone whose cultivation had been destroyed and whose meridians had been severed?

Someone reduced to such a miserable state that she had been forced to crawl and beg for help?

Even Ming Jing herself could not admire what she had become.

“It’s only dual cultivation. It shouldn’t be that difficult to learn.”

Ming Jing watched Murong Chi smile.

Then she abruptly leaned down.

One hand stroked the skin of Murong Chi’s face, tracing from her lips to her brows.

Ming Jing lowered herself and captured Murong Chi’s crimson lips.

Cold.

The taste of blood.

That was what Murong Chi felt like.

Ming Jing had never kissed anyone before.

She did not know what it was supposed to feel like to kiss another woman, but it surely was not meant to feel the way Murong Chi did.

Her heart pounded.

She drew back slightly and fixed her gaze upon Murong Chi’s moist, gleaming lips.

Then she moved her thumb and wiped away a vivid drop of blood.

When she kissed Murong Chi again, she slowly licked the blood away.

Three thousand strands of white hair spread across the white-jade couch.

Murong Chi’s clothes were disordered.

She looked up at Ming Jing above her with unfocused eyes.

After a long while, she covered her face and laughed softly.

There was something dark and desolate in that laughter that Ming Jing could not understand.

Ming Jing’s hand paused.

Her lips moved away and descended upon Murong Chi’s exquisite collarbone.

Her eyes remained perfectly clear.

Even at a moment such as this, she retained the clearest awareness of what she was doing.

Murong Chi had a past too painful to reveal to others.

That past was connected to the Dao Venerable of the Wanxiang Dao Sect.

When Ming Jing thought of that person, ruthlessness briefly passed through her clear eyes.

In the end, only indifference and coldness remained.

What did Murong Chi’s past have to do with her?

She did not care.

All she had to do was obey.

Obey Murong Chi.

If Murong Chi wanted to dual-cultivate with her, Ming Jing would do it.

Murong Chi had not told her to stop.

Therefore, she had no right to stop.

With those thoughts in her mind, Ming Jing continued moving.

She held her body suspended above Murong Chi and kissed her again.

Murong Chi turned her head aside.

The soft, closely spaced kisses fell upon the faintly flushed skin of her neck instead.

Ming Jing did not care.

Following the curve exposed by Murong Chi’s turned head, she continued kissing downward.

The pressure of her hand grew slightly heavier.

Every action contained no emotion whatsoever.

There was only technique.

Murong Chi breathed softly.

Through the hazy air, she looked at Ming Jing.

They both wore red brocade, yet on Ming Jing, the color created an entirely different impression.

Dazzling.

Astonishing.

Pure and aloof.

And beneath it all, there remained that faintly pitiful pride that had not yet been completely shattered.

It was utterly different from the appearance and bearing of every Wanxiang Dao Sect disciple in Murong Chi’s memories.

A sword cultivator.

The aura around this one was much purer.

Murong Chi paused.

Then she turned her head and looked toward the cavern wall.

Crystalline light was flashing across it, making the surface resemble a polished mirror.

Within that reflection, two figures were entwined and pressed together, performing the most intimate act in the world.

Murong Chi stared at the radiant cavern wall as she endured Ming Jing’s kisses.

Then she suddenly reached out.

Under Ming Jing’s questioning gaze, she curved her lips into an entirely insincere smile.

“Carry me into the inner chamber.”

Following the direction of Murong Chi’s long, elegant finger, Ming Jing saw a stone chamber concealed behind withered branches and tangled vines.

Its black stone door resembled the hideous, open jaws of a monstrous beast, ready to swallow anyone who entered.

Ming Jing shuddered for no apparent reason.

She rose, lifted Murong Chi into her arms, and endured the pain that was gradually fading into numbness as she walked toward the stone chamber.

The chains clanged loudly, dragging through the silence.

The stone chamber was vast, almost as large as the visible portion of the cavern dwelling outside.

It was also nearly empty.

Apart from a cold-jade ice bed that radiated a chilling mist, and the jade stones, ornaments, and glazed treasures piled in one corner and glowing with faint light, there was nothing else.

Following Murong Chi’s wishes, Ming Jing placed her upon the cold-jade ice bed and climbed onto it immediately afterward.

The instant her body touched the bed, Ming Jing sucked in a sharp breath.

A layer of frost formed across her trembling eyebrows, and her hot breath nearly froze into ice.

Water would freeze the instant it fell here.

There was no circulation of spiritual energy involved.

It was entirely because of the cold-jade ice bed beneath them.

What sort of heavenly treasure was this?

And despite its terrifying cold, Murong Chi did not seem affected in the slightest.

Dressed only in a thin inner robe, she lay upon the cold-jade ice bed with narrowed eyes.

Her palm rested against its crystal-clear surface.

Not only did she show no sign of discomfort, she seemed to enjoy the soul-freezing chill.

When Ming Jing failed to move for some time, Murong Chi looked at her with faint displeasure.

The meaning spreading through her eyes was colder than the ice bed beneath them.

Ming Jing’s heart tightened.

She leaned down, slipped an arm around Murong Chi’s waist, and resumed kissing her from the side of her flushed neck.

The air fell silent.

The stone walls outside continued to shimmer with flowing light.

Within the stone chamber, the woman’s restrained breathing rose and fell.