The Light of the Righteous Path Has Gone Offline - Chapter 6

After a long while, Ming Jing finally drew her dark gaze away from Murong Chi. When she caught sight of the color beneath them, her breathing paused slightly.

Then, as though nothing had happened, she looked away and sat leaning against the bed, her thoughts hazy as she stared at the pile of strange and exquisite ornaments in the corner.

Jade, colored glaze, agate…

They were delicately crafted and shaped in amusing ways, looking almost like toys made for children in the mortal world.

Across the crystal-clear cold-jade ice bed, thin trails of blood wound through the frost, staining it in dazzling, magnificent curves—like the most vivid flower blooming in a barren desert.

Murong Chi lay there for a while, then spent some time staring blankly into space.

When she raised a hand, the pale skin of her body was covered in diffuse red marks. She took a luxurious red robe and draped it over herself, then climbed down from the cold-jade bed and walked unsteadily toward the stone chamber’s exit.

“Follow me.”

Her low, hoarse voice abruptly shattered the silence and jolted Ming Jing from her daze.

By the time Ming Jing raised her head, Murong Chi’s figure was already receding into the distance. All she could see was the edge of a red robe disappearing around the stone doorway, like the last crimson glow of sunset lingering at the horizon.

Or like the magnificent streaks of color that had seeped into the cold jade and become frozen within the ice.

Ming Jing dressed herself and quickly rose to follow.

Inside the cavern dwelling, Murong Chi sat upon the white-jade couch in a languid posture. She tilted her head and examined Ming Jing, who stood straight-backed below her.

Her eyes narrowed, their depths dark and somber.

“Is the Black Lotus Mark still devouring your vitality?”

Murong Chi idly swung the chain hanging from her hand as she asked, filling the cavern with metallic clangs.

Something about it seemed strange.

The chain in Murong Chi’s hand appeared and disappeared without warning.

When Ming Jing first crawled into the cavern and saw her, Murong Chi had been sitting on the white-jade couch in the same manner, gazing down carelessly while a silver chain glimmered in her palm.

Yet when Ming Jing woke and Murong Chi wrapped an arm around her waist before bending down to kiss her for the first time, the chain had vanished.

It had not appeared in the stone chamber afterward, either.

Now Murong Chi was swinging it in her hand like a toy used to pass the time.

The chain around her feet, on the other hand, had always remained.

Ming Jing did not know where it originated, only that it was extremely long. At the very least, within this cavern dwelling and the stone chamber, Murong Chi was not restricted by it.

“Yes,” Ming Jing answered softly with a nod, bitterness filling her heart.

The Black Lotus Mark was a brand created with the ancient divine artifact known as the Mo Daotai.

Everyone across the Six Realms knew what it represented: the stain of colluding with the demon race and the mark of a criminal condemned by the Human Realm.

The prerequisite for receiving the Black Lotus Mark was the presence of demonic aura within a cultivator’s body.

The demonic aura surrounding Ming Jing served as more than enough proof.

Those branded with it would be imprisoned within the Human Realm Prison, where three thousand sword auras would continuously assault their meridians, forcing them to spend the remainder of their lives in unbearable agony.

Even if they somehow escaped, the Black Lotus Mark would continue devouring its bearer’s vitality until death.

As long as the Mo Daotai existed, so would the Black Lotus Mark.

And the Mo Daotai was an ancient divine artifact that had survived since antiquity, indestructible throughout the ages.

Therefore, there was no solution.

No one could undo it.

Yet Murong Chi had said she could save Ming Jing.

They had formed a life-and-death contract.

Murong Chi had promised to keep her alive.

Ming Jing raised her eyes toward Murong Chi, her heart surging with emotion.

It was already broad daylight.

Above the cliff, the blazing sun hung high in the sky, while brilliant light illuminated the world below.

Some of that brightness filtered through the cracks in the cavern dwelling and entered Ming Jing’s eyes, reflecting hope and yearning within them.

Even Ming Jing herself did not know how fervent and luminous her gaze was as she looked at Murong Chi.

It was pure, without the slightest impurity.

Nothing but the hope of survival.

Faced with such a gaze, Murong Chi felt as though something had pierced her heart.

Dense waves of pain spread through it.

Her body began trembling almost beyond her control, and she nearly lost her balance on the couch.

She pressed her right hand downward.

The cold sensation transmitted through the fingertips touching the white jade extinguished the unrest within her soul.

Murong Chi leaned forward and lowered her head.

Blood spilled from her lips and dripped onto the red front of her robe, blending into the fabric before vanishing without a trace.

When she raised her head again, her eyes were completely black.

Looking at Ming Jing, she curved her lips into her habitual smile.

“Yes. I can save you.”

“I can suppress the black lotus between your brows, allowing you to cling to life and remain by my side.”

“But I can only suppress it.”

Ming Jing listened in silence.

She showed no reaction, her lowered head appearing calm and composed.

Murong Chi found it somewhat boring.

She lazily leaned backward and reclined against the couch. Tossing aside the chain in her hand, she began playing with the loose strands of her hair instead.

“If I only suppress it, you will never be able to cultivate again. Your severed meridians will not recover, either. You will spend the rest of your life merely clinging to existence.”

Someone’s breathing stopped in the air.

A clenched fist disturbed the surrounding currents.

Murong Chi paused before continuing at an unhurried pace.

“The brand left by the Mo Daotai is extremely troublesome. To destroy it completely, even I would have to sacrifice more than half of my cultivation.”

She sat upright.

Her bare feet stepped onto the cool floor as she approached Ming Jing.

Pressing close against her body, she spoke in an intimate posture, though her voice remained cold.

“Do you think I would sacrifice that much cultivation for you?”

“Are you worth it?”

Murong Chi raised a finger and toyed with Ming Jing’s black hair.

After winding a strand around her finger, she released it. A smile appeared on her lips, and playful mockery filled her eyes.

Ming Jing turned her gaze toward her, her expression unreadable.

Red robes fluttered.

Chains clanged.

Murong Chi resembled an elusive gust of wind, impossible to grasp and impossible to understand.

Meeting Ming Jing’s gaze, Murong Chi blinked.

Interest danced along the lifted corners of her eyes, while a gloating smile curved her lips.

Ming Jing raised an eyebrow slightly.

Then she abruptly bent down, lifted Murong Chi into her arms, and placed her upon the white-jade couch.

Under Murong Chi’s surprised and faintly excited gaze, Ming Jing raised a hand and wiped away the vivid blood staining her lips.

Her voice was clear and cool.

“I’m not.”

“I’m not worth it.”

A person ought to possess self-awareness.

Why would Murong Chi sacrifice her cultivation for her?

Never mind more than half—even one or two parts of it would be difficult to imagine.

Murong Chi was impossible to understand.

Ming Jing lowered her eyes and leaned closer.

After pausing, she lifted her gaze toward Murong Chi, then pressed her lips against hers and carefully kissed away the blood.

Her expression remained composed.

“Dual cultivation.”

“What else do you want me to do?”

“Tell me, and I will obey.”

Murong Chi stared at her with pitch-black eyes and said nothing.

“If I can never cultivate again, you won’t save me,” Ming Jing explained, word by word. “You would never save someone useless, much less allow a cripple to remain by your side.”

Murong Chi must have saved her because she was useful.

Because she had value beyond dual cultivation.

“What would you like me to do, miss?”

Ming Jing removed the hand resting on Murong Chi’s shoulder.

Light gathered within her eyes. When the breeze stirred, it rippled like shimmering water, clear and beautiful.

Murong Chi froze briefly at the cool, polite address of miss.

After recovering, she unconsciously curved her lips into a bold, unrestrained smile.

“It is true that I do not save cripples.”

“But in this matter, I will not order you. I will give you the freedom to choose.”

She lazily hooked a finger around the tassel at Ming Jing’s waist.

“If I suppress the Black Lotus Mark, your vitality will no longer be devoured. You can continue living.”

“But as for the demonic aura that has seeped into your very bones, and the meridians severed because of that demonic aura—I cannot erase the former or reconnect the latter.”

“There is nothing in this world capable of removing the demonic aura surrounding you.”

Demons were the filthiest and darkest existences in the world, formed from the corruption and gloom of all Six Realms.

Their power was profound, bone-deep, and domineering.

Once tainted by it, one could never become clean again.

The Black Lotus Mark was only placed upon beings contaminated by demonic aura.

Murong Chi did not know where Ming Jing’s demonic aura had come from.

Nor did she care whether Ming Jing had truly colluded with the demon race or whether she was a criminal of the Human Realm.

She cared only about the pleasure the person before her would soon bring.

“If you want to cultivate again, you have only one choice.”

Murong Chi unfolded Ming Jing’s tightly clenched hand, which had begun bleeding heavily.

Her fingertip traced a gentle arc across the palm as she spoke leisurely.

“Fall into the demonic path.”

Fall into the demonic path.

Two weightless words.

Yet as they emerged from Murong Chi’s crimson lips, they transformed into a heaven-shaking sword.

Its razor-sharp edge tore through Ming Jing’s heart, which had already rolled through storms and pools of blood countless times.

At last, she was forced to acknowledge the truth.

She was no longer a sword cultivator.

Her sword bones had been shattered.

The three thousand sword auras that had once followed the direction of her heart had now become deadly currents rampaging chaotically through her body.

Her sword path had been buried completely beneath the collapsed mountain ruins of Little Stone Village.

And Murong Chi’s words forced her to confront that truth again and again.

A choice.

Ming Jing smiled as she asked Murong Chi, “What does it mean to fall into the demonic path?”

“To fall into the demonic path naturally means cultivating a demonic art.”

Murong Chi smiled beautifully.

Under Ming Jing’s dark, lifeless gaze, she produced a jade slip.

“This is the Ancient Asura Art. It is a demonic cultivation method.”

When Murong Chi spoke, her expression became obscure.

The emotions passing through her eyes were so complicated that words could hardly describe them.

But Ming Jing’s emotions were even more tangled and inscrutable.

A demonic cultivation method.

Murong Chi did not need to explain further.

With only a brief thought, Ming Jing understood the reasoning.

It was better to guide a flood than to block it.

Since nothing in the world could remove the demonic aura surrounding her, then she would not remove it.

She would refine it.

She would fall into the demonic path and cultivate a demonic art.

The flow of energy within her body would change course and converge with the demonic aura, sharing the same source until the two dissolved into one.

Then it would naturally cease harming her.

“Once you cultivate it, I will no longer need to suppress the Black Lotus Mark. It will no longer be able to devour your vitality.”

Murong Chi swung the jade slip in her hand, her brows lifted.

Ming Jing accepted it.

Feeling the bone-piercing chill spread across her palm, she narrowed her eyes.

After a long while, she looked up.

“Does the Ancient Asura Art have some extraordinary origin?”

The Mo Daotai was inherently capable of suppressing the demonic path.

How could an ordinary demonic cultivation method withstand the Black Lotus Mark?

“Of course it does,” Murong Chi answered immediately. “Have you heard of the Asura Realm?”

Ming Jing nodded.

Her fingers tightened, nearly crushing the jade slip.

Beneath the four corners of the sky lay the Six Realms.

The two upper realms—the Divine Realm and the Immortal Realm—had suffered tremendous damage during a catastrophe tens of thousands of years ago.

After closing their realm gates, they disappeared from the world, leaving behind only legends.

The two lower realms—the Netherworld and the Demon Realm—were hidden within the void, their whereabouts impossible to discern.

Only countless misguided evil spirits, ghosts, demons, and heretical cultivators continued wreaking havoc in the mortal world, throwing mountains and rivers into turmoil.

The Human Realm and Demon Beast Realm stood between them and supported heaven and earth, burdened by suffering and pressure heavier than Mount Tai.

The Asura Realm, however, existed independently of the Six Realms.

According to ancient records, the Demon Realm lay on the reverse side of chaos.

Therefore, it gathered all the evil, darkness, and filth of heaven and earth.

Its inhabitants were born dependent upon plunder and slaughter for survival.

The Asura Realm stood above the Demon Realm.

Mysterious and unfathomable, hidden beyond all perception, the Asura bloodline naturally suppressed the demon race and possessed an innate hierarchical advantage over them.

“The Ancient Asura Art is the supreme core cultivation method of the Asura Realm.”

A chilling light passed through Murong Chi’s eyes.

Her voice was as cold as solid ice.

“This art is extremely powerful, which also makes it exceptionally difficult to cultivate.”

“Cultivating it means walking along the boundary between life and death and fighting against heaven for your fate.”

“You could die very easily.”

Ming Jing suddenly laughed.

She truly could not restrain herself. Her entire body trembled with laughter.

“Anything else?”

“There is.”

Through Ming Jing’s almost deranged laughter, Murong Chi watched her faith collapse little by little.

It was like a deity falling from the heavens.

After despair came a stillness as lifeless as stagnant water.

“To cultivate this art, you must first wash away the pure and righteous aura of the Dao Sect remaining within your bones.”

“To cultivate this art, you must first destroy the sharpness of a sword cultivator still pulsing through your flesh.”

“To cultivate this art, you must restrain every fluctuating emotion within your heart.”

Murong Chi spoke each word distinctly.

“The Ancient Asura Art has nine levels, corresponding to the nine cultivation realms.”

“To cultivate this art is to transform oneself into an undying, indestructible Asura and forge an Asura heart devoid of love and emotion.”

“Therefore, from the moment you begin, you must never fall in love.”

“To develop feelings will bring pain.”

“It will bring death.”

“After entering the path, every breakthrough to the next level will be a trial of death.”

“Once cultivation begins, there is no possibility of stopping.”

“You will either reach the ninth level, die while attempting a breakthrough, or become trapped after falling in love and have Asura energy devour your heart.”

“Knowing all this, do you still wish to cultivate it?”

Murong Chi tugged Ming Jing’s sleeve and reclined within her arms.

From below, she studied the pale and exquisitely refined face above her.

When she sensed Ming Jing’s disordered breathing, her smile became cruel.

“I’ll cultivate it.”

The hand Murong Chi had been holding and idly playing with clenched tightly.

Veins stood out beneath Ming Jing’s skin, expressing the last remnants of her grief.