The Light of the Righteous Path Has Gone Offline - Chapter 8

“Tap, tap, tap.”

The silence of the cavern dwelling was broken.

The lively little spirit puppet scampered inside with cheerful steps and handed a charred, purplish-black piece of wood to Murong Chi. After bowing respectfully, it dissolved into spiritual energy and disappeared into the white-jade couch.

Murong Chi rose and walked toward Ming Jing with the wood in her hand, a faint smile on her lips.

“Do you recognize this piece of wood?”

Ming Jing stood and looked over, surprise and lingering fear appearing in her eyes.

The piece of wood was blackened by fire, with purple light flowing through it.

It was the dead branch she had seized while being swept away by the cold pool’s undercurrent.

Even though all the injuries covering her body had now healed, the sight of that piece of wood instinctively reminded her of the bone-deep agony she had experienced when she first grabbed it.

It had felt as though lightning had struck her soul.

Her thoughts had stopped, and even breathing had become difficult.

Merely looking at it now caused sticky sweat to gather in her palm.

Yet at the same time, it had been her lifeline.

Without that charred piece of wood, the undercurrent would have swept her away.

Only her corpse would have drifted into this cavern dwelling.

The memory was so deeply engraved within her that it seemed to have happened only a moment ago.

Naturally, Ming Jing remembered it.

Judging from Murong Chi’s tone and expression, however, this piece of wood clearly possessed another, far more significant origin.

Ming Jing thought of the jade slip hidden inside her sleeve.

Understanding flashed through her eyes just as Murong Chi nodded approvingly.

“Correct. This is Purple Lightning Wood.”

Purple Lightning Wood was a natural treasure of at least the sixth rank.

As a lightning-attributed spiritual treasure, it naturally contained vast and majestic thunder power capable of suppressing evil and destroying demons.

It had long since vanished from the Six Realms.

Yet somehow, a piece had appeared in the cold pool beneath the sealed cliffs of Wuchang Mountain.

Ming Jing’s gaze darkened.

She followed Murong Chi to the circular pool and watched as the woman casually tossed the Purple Lightning Wood inside.

The clear water immediately erupted into rolling waves, sending a thousand layers of water surging upward.

The pale pool water absorbed the lightning power contained within the charred wood and quickly became murky.

Murong Chi did not stop.

After the Purple Lightning Wood, light flashed repeatedly as she threw numerous glowing natural treasures into the pool.

She did not even blink, as though the things she cast away were nothing more than dust.

But Ming Jing knew they were not dust.

They were treasures of heaven and earth whose weight could shake the world—priceless objects that could be desired but rarely obtained.

Even within the great sects and sacred strongholds, they would be valuable enough to make lofty elders and disciples abandon all dignity and fight until their heads were broken.

After all, these treasures concerned one’s cultivation path.

Who could possibly look upon them without envy?

Ming Jing recognized some of the treasures that vanished beneath the lightning-filled waves.

There was the Purple Lightning Wood, born at the sixth rank.

The fifth-rank Ten-Thousand-Year Stone Heart Milk.

The seventh-rank Frost Jade.

There were others Ming Jing did not recognize, some of which had never appeared even in the ancient texts she had read.

Yet the auras they emitted were so vast and overwhelming that the instant they flew from Murong Chi’s sleeve, they brought with them a pressure capable of overturning mountains and seas.

Ming Jing’s heart could not help trembling.

Their extraordinary nature needed no explanation.

She did not know their names or their effects.

But she clearly understood what they were being used for.

Spiritual treasures to assist cultivation.

External aid.

Without those treasures, she would have no possibility of breaking through the first level.

She would not be able to use the demonic aura she cultivated herself to suppress the Black Lotus Mark.

She would not even survive.

How could she possibly speak of cultivating and becoming stronger?

Murong Chi had claimed that without her help, Ming Jing would need at least ten years to break through the first level of the ancient art.

Murong Chi had lied.

Ming Jing had already known that from the moment she accepted the jade slip listing the supplementary materials.

Since ancient times, cultivation had always required external assistance.

A beginner attempting to draw spiritual energy into the body needed a Qi-Gathering Pill to strengthen their perception of spiritual energy.

Cultivators relied on Spirit-Gathering Formations to increase the speed of their cultivation.

Those who depended entirely on themselves had always been in the minority.

The Ancient Asura Art was a demonic cultivation method of immeasurable significance.

Naturally, cultivating it was even more difficult.

So difficult that it required natural treasures as external support.

Ming Jing gripped the deathly cold jade slip in her palm.

She watched the once-clear circular pool become filled with countless colors and conflicting auras in the span of a few moments.

It resembled a great furnace of heaven and earth, capable of containing all things.

Finally, Murong Chi gathered her fluttering sleeve and brought two fingers together, cutting across her palm.

She clenched her hand above the pool and smiled as blood spread across her skin before dripping into the water.

Her voice was very soft.

“It’s ready.”

Ming Jing’s gaze turned cold and solemn.

The jade slip had stated that truly cultivating the Ancient Asura Art required three natural treasures.

Not one could be missing.

The first was Purple Lightning Wood.

The second was Primal Demonic Qi.

The third was Ancient Demon Blood.

When Murong Chi dripped her blood into the pool, all three became complete.

The endless Asura demonic path had now been fully laid out before Ming Jing.

Once she stepped onto it, no one would ever be able to turn back.

She took one step forward and lowered her gaze.

A relaxed smile appeared on her lips, as though she had finally let go of something—or had decided to indulge herself completely.

The water inside the circular pool had already become unbearably murky, its auras chaotically intermingled.

After Murong Chi’s blood fell into it, all the different colors dissolved into a single, vivid shade of blood-red.

The thick liquid rolled and surged, producing bubbling sounds.

This was no longer an ordinary pool.

It was a boiling pool of blood.

Murong Chi stood at its edge.

Ming Jing’s emotions were silent and calm.

When she spoke, her voice contained no fluctuation at all.

“Then I’ll go in.”

Murong Chi did not answer.

Ming Jing paused.

When she looked back, her brows relaxed, and the final trace of pure, unstained innocence appeared in her smile.

She asked Murong Chi, “Do you also… believe… that I should… fall into the demonic path?”

It was a single short sentence, yet she had to pause three times before she could ask it in full.

Murong Chi met those eyes, where a faint light still lingered amid the darkness.

She lowered her head and still did not answer.

Ming Jing withdrew her gaze.

There was no longer any hesitation in her back.

She crushed the icy jade slip in her palm and pulled open the filthy red robe soaked through with sweat.

Bare feet stepped across the smooth, cold bluestone tiles.

When she jumped, both her movements and emotions were no different from the moment she had thrown herself from the cliff.

Numbness hidden beneath grief.

The instant her body touched the pool, the boiling blood rushed toward her from every direction and swallowed her whole.

Ming Jing drew in a long breath and allowed the current to seize her body and drag her toward the bottom.

Unrestrained hostility rose at the corners of her eyes.

Beneath the surface, the blood pool churned violently.

Another struggle between life and death had begun.

Yet the surface remained still and without ripples.

Only a torn piece of red fabric could be seen drifting within the surging current, carried wherever the water took it.

It was a fragment of the robe that had fallen from Ming Jing’s body.

Red enough to drip blood, it floated atop the crimson pool without merging into it.

Murong Chi stood lazily beside the water.

Looking at that broken red shadow, she curved her lips into a reckless, triumphant smile.

There was pleasure in her heart.

And a trace of dazed astonishment.

Through the murky, boiling water, she could vaguely see the person beneath it struggling desperately for her life.

The pain had sunk into Ming Jing’s bones, surpassing everything she had endured before.

How could Ming Jing have believed that once her body became sufficiently numb, she would no longer feel pain?

As long as a person remained alive, it was impossible not to hurt.

As long as the pain was abundant enough, heavy enough, and deep enough, even the most steadfast person could fall and become a demon.

A lofty disciple of a sacred stronghold.

The honored chief disciple.

A world-shocking sword cultivator who had once been openhearted, upright, brilliant, and dazzling.

Had she not now been reduced to crawling before Murong Chi, a prisoner herself, lowering her head and surrendering every fragment of her pride?

Murong Chi swept her sleeve.

Her gaze paused as Ming Jing’s earlier question echoed beside her ear, and her thoughts became faintly unfocused.

Do you also believe that I should fall into the demonic path?

That was what Ming Jing had asked her.

Rather than asking Murong Chi, however, she had been questioning her own heart.

It had been the final pride of a sword cultivator and…

A lingering hesitation that had yet to be resolved.

But Ming Jing herself had once said that there had never been any such thing as what should or should not happen in this world.

There were only the results one could see.

Falling into the demonic path.

Murong Chi released a long sigh.

The smile faded from her lips, though the chilling coldness in her eyes remained.

The demonic path had been Ming Jing’s only road from the very beginning.

Murong Chi had promised to save her life and had established the life-and-death contract.

That meant she had fulfilled her promise.

There would be nothing more than that.

She could never sacrifice her own cultivation to erase Ming Jing’s Black Lotus Mark.

As for the demonic aura surrounding Ming Jing and the meridians severed within her body, throughout the vast and boundless world, only the Ancient Asura Art could resolve them.

From the beginning, Ming Jing had possessed no choice at all.

That so-called freedom to choose had merely been something Murong Chi said for amusement because she was bored.

If Ming Jing had believed it, then naturally, that was Ming Jing’s own mistake.

Murong Chi smiled coldly.

Her gaze swept across the shimmering cavern wall before returning to the circular pool.

The torn red shadow on the surface continued rising and falling within the current, like a blood-red moon reflected upon the water.

Bright.

Dazzling.

Stunning.

Yet stained with blood.

It made the person within the pool appear even more pure, lonely, and desolate.

Many years later, the long river of time would erase countless traces of the past.

The world-destroying hostility buried within Murong Chi’s heart and the unbearably painful memories weighing upon her would gradually fade amid bloodshed and slaughter.

She would forget this dark cavern dwelling that had imprisoned her freedom for thousands of years.

She would forget the cold-jade ice bed that froze the soul and extinguished emotion.

She would also forget the miserable young sword cultivator who had once crawled into the cavern seeking salvation, lowering herself into the dust.

Only this broken red shadow floating upon the boiling blood pool would remain clear within her memory.

It symbolized the complete collapse of faith.

The fall.

The descent.

The corruption.

The calm indifference, forceful encouragement, and triumphant satisfaction she felt now would later become heart-rending agony and unbearable regret.

No amount of bloody weeping or anguished cries would ever restore the clear conscience she had lost.

The person beneath the surface knew nothing of Murong Chi’s thoughts.

She felt only boundless, endless agony.

It hurt.

Ming Jing sank at the bottom of the pool, fists clenched as she opened her eyes.

Blood-red light rippled through her black pupils.

Her vision was blurred, and she could see nothing.

The lightning power contained within the Purple Lightning Wood struck like raging waves.

One surge after another crashed against her.

It wrapped around her body, lifting her toward the surface one moment and dragging her back to the bottom the next.

Several times, the agony caused her to lose consciousness.

Each time, the next wave of pain violently awakened her again.

Neither Primal Demonic Qi nor Ancient Demon Blood was pure or untainted.

They could even be described as murky and corrupted.

Only Purple Lightning Wood grew naturally beneath heaven and earth.

It was born containing the pure power of lightning, capable of suppressing evil and destroying demons.

It was one of the finest treasures righteous cultivators could use when forging spiritual artifacts.

The reason the Ancient Asura Art required this piece of Purple Lightning Wood was that a newly initiated Asura body needed the vast thunder power of the righteous path to fully awaken the aura of the demonic path.

The Asura energy had to be embedded throughout the cultivator’s blood, bones, and marrow.

Only then could they truly enter the path.

As for the other natural treasures, aside from supplying sufficient spiritual energy, they were necessary because the Ancient Asura Art was a demonic cultivation method that defied the laws of the Heavenly Dao and stole the fortune of living beings.

Defying the Heavenly Dao made cultivation extraordinarily difficult.

Therefore, spiritual treasures born from the blessings of heaven and earth were needed to withstand some of that burden and carve out a single thread of survival for Ming Jing.

This was the true reason Murong Chi had said Ming Jing could not break through the first level without external aid.

“Hiss…”

A cry of pain escaped Ming Jing amid the dark crimson water.

Her thoughts gradually blurred, and she no longer possessed the mental strength to consider anything else.

Pain surged like a tide.

The wounds once pierced through by the long blades of the Human Realm Guards began itching again beneath the scorching heat of the pool.

The meridians reconnected by Asura energy trembled and spasmed faintly.

In her daze, Ming Jing believed she had already died and fallen into the blood sea of hell.

But when she opened her eyes and looked through the glaring crimson water, she could still see the cold, stern gaze directed down from above.

Those eyes were cold.

But they were also beautiful.

Especially when Murong Chi smiled.

Even when the smile never reached her eyes, it was still enough to throw many cultivators’ Dao hearts into chaos.

But Ming Jing was no longer a righteous cultivator.

Nor did she possess a Dao heart.

Ming Jing smiled without restraint, as though nothing in the world mattered.

Closing her eyes, she used the last fragments of her fading consciousness to guide the demonic aura within her body toward the lightning power spreading through the pool.

Blood seeped from her lips and merged with the blood pool, leaving no visible trace behind.

Her body seemed to be repeatedly torn apart and reconstructed.

Within the endless cycle of losing consciousness and being awakened by pain, Ming Jing gradually discovered a rhythm.

At last, she managed to gather enough focus to circulate the demonic aura.

Following the instructions recorded within the jade slip, she directed the energy through her body.

She watched the remaining pure sword aura disappear completely.

In its place rose demonic energy as dark as ink, surrounding her body.

Even the space between her brows became stained with the decadent aura of the demonic path.

A single breath felt like ten thousand years.

To Ming Jing, it seemed longer than an entire century.

When she opened her eyes again, the boiling blood pool had already returned to stillness.

More than half of the water had even dried up.

She was no longer floating within the boiling blood.

She sat at the bottom of the circular pool.

The exposed skin of her body was pale, delicate, and flushed crimson.

A faint, shadowy light flickered beneath it, obscure and difficult to discern.

Her aura was utterly silent.

Murong Chi stood at the edge of the pool, looking down from above.

Amusement and playful interest flowed through her eyes.

When Ming Jing raised her head to look at her, Murong Chi even lifted an eyebrow and smiled, casually praising whatever came to mind.

“Beautiful.”

The lightning power had been exhausted.

The spiritual energy of the treasures had dissipated.

The pool water was nearly dry.

Even though Ming Jing had reached the very bottom, the remaining water barely covered her chest.

Her exposed collarbones were stained with a bloody redness, with several thick droplets of water still rolling across them.

The pool water was crimson, but Murong Chi’s cultivation was so mysterious and powerful that she could naturally see through it at a glance.

Through the thin, rippling surface, she could easily see the woman’s translucent skin and intimate curves obscured beneath the bloody mist.

Ming Jing was completely unclothed.

Therefore, the teasing intent behind Murong Chi’s melodious declaration of “beautiful” far outweighed any sincere admiration.

In the past, such a flirtatious tone would have made Ming Jing shy and flustered enough to lose control of her breathing.

Now, however, she remained expressionless beneath Murong Chi’s direct stare.

She abruptly rose from the water.

The splash struck Murong Chi directly in the face.

Then Ming Jing calmly reached for the red robe resting beside the pool.

She shook it open and draped it loosely over her body.

After climbing out of the pool, she walked to Murong Chi’s side with a faint smile.

“Thank you.”

“You’re very beautiful too.”