The Light of the Righteous Path Has Gone Offline - Chapter 9

Her voice carried the faintest trace of affection, gentle and tender. Springtime shimmered like blooming peach blossoms within her pitch-black eyes.

When Murong Chi looked up, she met a pair of eyes containing both tenderness and coldness. Her heart immediately faltered, and her thoughts became momentarily dazed.

Three thousand strands of black hair fell over Ming Jing’s shoulders, their damp ends curling slightly as warm, misty droplets fell one after another.

Her red robe hung loosely around her body, a large portion of it soaked by the water vapor, allowing glimpses of the skin and alluring scenery beneath.

She stood amid the flickering gloom, no longer as straight and unyielding as a pine. Instead, she carried herself with careless, reckless abandon. The tassels at her waist swayed, and her smile was exceptionally captivating.

Together with the dark lotus mark between her brows, it gave her an air of decadent corruption, as though she intended to entice others into sinking alongside her.

A deathly pale face.

Blood-red lips.

Delicate features.

A languid, fallen aura.

This was the quintessential bearing of the demonic path.

It could be called bearing only because this person was Ming Jing.

No matter what Ming Jing became, she could never be reduced to mediocrity. Even when she roamed unrivaled through the dimness of an endless night, she possessed a different kind of dazzling brilliance.

Murong Chi watched her, her gaze gradually deepening.

This was Ming Jing, yet she was no longer the white-robed sword cultivator Murong Chi had first met—the one who had remained radiant and upright despite her miserable condition.

When Ming Jing had crawled into the cavern, Murong Chi had been able to tell that although her entire body was covered in blood and her robes had been dyed crimson, they had originally been white.

Spotless, clean, and pure white.

The same color that had once shone within her eyes.

Now, however, that pure white had turned pitch-black.

Her former sharpness had shattered when the blood pool fell still, replaced by a silent, decadent aura of corruption.

She seemed to have become an entirely different person.

She almost no longer seemed human.

Ming Jing was now a demon—unfathomable and impossible to understand.

A disciple of a sacred stronghold had fallen into the demonic path, her former pride reduced to dust. One gust of wind, and not a trace of it would remain.

This was the magnificent sight Murong Chi had wanted to witness.

Now that she had seen it, however, she did not feel the excitement or satisfaction she had imagined.

Instead, there was even a faint, inexplicable sorrow within her.

How could she still possess an emotion like sorrow?

Murong Chi licked her lips, a mocking smile appearing on her face.

When she raised her eyes again, Ming Jing was using the fluttering hem of her half-wet red robe to dry her hands.

Then one hand lifted Murong Chi’s chin while the other brushed across her face, evenly wiping away the water upon it.

Ming Jing’s smile was utterly insincere.

“I splashed you, miss.”

“It was Jing’s fault.”

Ming Jing smiled brilliantly.

Her aura fluctuated, fully revealing the first level of the Ancient Asura Art.

The Black Lotus Mark between her brows shimmered with dark light in time with her breathing, eerie and ghostlike, resembling an unfathomable pool.

Murong Chi frowned slightly.

Her instincts told her that this Ming Jing was impossible to read.

She did not know what Ming Jing was thinking or what she intended to do.

The feeling placed Murong Chi in a passive position.

She disliked it.

Ming Jing seemed utterly reborn and unfamiliar.

Although Murong Chi had never truly known her in the first place, she still felt that something was slipping from her control.

She needed to do something.

She had to break through the seemingly indestructible shell surrounding Ming Jing and turn this person, who could no longer be considered a sword cultivator, back into the form Murong Chi had grown accustomed to.

Thus, Murong Chi curved her lips.

Her smile became even more unrestrained and seductive than Ming Jing’s.

She lowered her head along the hand Ming Jing had used to caress her cheek, and her overwhelming aura pressed down upon the other woman.

Watching Ming Jing blink as her gaze froze, Murong Chi reached beneath her loosely worn red robe.

She took a step forward, wrapped an arm around Ming Jing, and forced her backward against the pool wall.

Her tone was drawn out and suggestive.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You can simply let this sovereign splash you in return.”

As she spoke, Murong Chi brought two fingers together and summoned a wave from the circular pool.

She guided it directly through the narrow opening in Ming Jing’s robe.

When Ming Jing shrank from the cold, visible delight appeared upon Murong Chi’s face.

“Now we’re even.”

Murong Chi released the arm imprisoning Ming Jing’s waist and turned to walk toward the white-jade couch.

However, something caught the edge of her robe.

She could still move, but the force behind her was clearly pulling it to prevent her from leaving.

It was Ming Jing.

Murong Chi laughed.

Hearing that half-scoffing, half-dismissive laugh, Ming Jing’s eyes flickered.

The solitary, unyielding force buried within her heart surged upward.

Ignoring everything else, she yanked Murong Chi backward by the hem of her robe.

She wrapped an arm around Murong Chi’s waist, lifted her into the air, then turned around and, having already gone this far, simply threw her into the circular pool.

Now that the blood pool had gone still, it no longer boiled.

The water had become icy, cold enough to penetrate the bones.

Murong Chi’s body struck the freezing water without warning, causing her to shudder uncontrollably.

At the same time, her pupils widened in utter astonishment.

She had never imagined that Ming Jing would dare throw her into the pool!

Did she no longer care whether she lived or died?

The answer came in the form of a clear splash.

Ming Jing jumped in immediately afterward, and the water she sent flying struck Murong Chi full in the face once more.

Sitting in the pool, Murong Chi wiped her face.

Her gaze toward Ming Jing was as cold as solid ice, and a trace of killing intent seemed to flash through her eyes.

Ming Jing stood extremely close to her and naturally did not miss it.

Yet a gentle smile remained upon her face, springtime blossoming between her brows.

Every movement she made was flawlessly calm and composed, revealing none of the emotions hidden within her heart.

Still smiling, she approached Murong Chi.

Using the relatively clean portion of her sleeve, she meticulously wiped away the water from Murong Chi’s face.

Then she embraced her amid the gently shifting pool water, her voice overflowing with apparent affection.

“Since Jing’s robes are completely soaked, how could you possibly emerge untouched, miss?”

“We’re on the same path, after all.”

Their lives and deaths were bound together.

Naturally, it made no sense for Ming Jing’s clothes to be drenched while Murong Chi remained untouched by even a drop of water.

At that moment, Murong Chi’s white hair floated damply across the pool’s surface.

Most of her red robe had also become soaked.

Her exquisite, seductive face appeared even more alluring amid the rising mist, while the murderous coldness surrounding her gradually faded away.

She opened eyes filled with winding threads of emotion and looked at Ming Jing, her smile deeply meaningful.

“You’re quite right.”

“We are indeed on the same path.”

Being on the same path meant their relationship had begun as a transaction.

And since it was a transaction, they were naturally equals.

Murong Chi saved Ming Jing’s life, and Ming Jing helped her break the seal.

Murong Chi assisted Ming Jing’s cultivation, and Ming Jing dual-cultivated with her.

Murong Chi helped Ming Jing become stronger, and Ming Jing obeyed her.

They shared an equal relationship.

Therefore, if Murong Chi could tease Ming Jing, Ming Jing could naturally retaliate.

Cultivation level and strength were irrelevant.

The chief disciple of a sacred stronghold truly lived up to her reputation.

Her ability to grasp another person’s thoughts, weigh gains and losses, and judge precisely how far she could push things was deeply characteristic of the Wanxiang Dao Sect.

Within this invisible confrontation, Murong Chi had attempted to control Ming Jing.

Instead, Ming Jing had delivered an elegant counterattack, neither too heavy nor too light, and exposed the true nature of their relationship.

By that measure, Murong Chi had lost by a single move.

She had lost because she had underestimated Ming Jing.

She had assumed that once a lofty disciple of a sacred stronghold fell into the demonic path, she would lose her faith and sink into corruption like a walking corpse, behaving recklessly and possessing no remaining reason.

But Ming Jing had not.

Even after falling into the demonic path, she retained the clearest understanding of herself.

Her rationality had not vanished.

Instead, it had been joined by an uninhibited boldness that feared neither heaven nor earth.

Falling into the demonic path seemed to have removed the shackles placed upon her by heaven and earth.

She resembled a decadent demon, using absurd and reckless behavior to conceal the nearly uncontrollable hostility within her bones.

She struggled desperately to preserve one last fragment of clarity.

Logically, this confrontation should have ended here, with Ming Jing’s affectionate smile and gentle words.

But Murong Chi had never known how to write the word logic.

Naturally, she refused to let the matter end so easily.

She lifted her hand slightly.

The undercurrent surged, rapidly filling the circular pool.

Still held within Ming Jing’s arms, Murong Chi raised her brows and reversed their positions, forcing Ming Jing against the pool wall instead.

She tore away a piece of red fabric, leaned forward, and covered those curved lips.

With ruthless force, she pried open Ming Jing’s teeth and pushed her own breath inside, kissing her until she nearly suffocated.

Only a few days had passed since Ming Jing fell from the cliff, crawled into the dark cavern, and was now pinned against the pool wall by Murong Chi.

Yet she and Murong Chi had already kissed many times.

Murong Chi’s lips were beautiful.

They also felt pleasant to kiss.

Cold and soft, but forever carrying an inescapable taste of blood, as though she had been raised by drinking it.

Even so, it was more than enough to throw Ming Jing—a young prodigy whose cultivation journey had always been smooth and who had never kissed anyone before—into confusion.

All the more so during such an intense, mercilessly deep kiss.

Ming Jing clutched Murong Chi’s robe.

She reasonably suspected that Murong Chi intended to use this opportunity to kiss her until she stopped breathing, then somehow deceive heaven and earth and escape the restraints of their contract.

Murong Chi continued kissing her.

She licked along Ming Jing’s lips and teeth, pressing ever deeper as though determined to steal away the final trace of air.

The space between their mingled breaths became scorching hot.

The pool water churned.

When Ming Jing opened her eyes, seduction and delight flowed openly through Murong Chi’s gaze.

Her long, narrow brows lifted, and she showed no intention of releasing Ming Jing.

Helpless, Ming Jing glanced over the circular pool.

Then, as though driven to ruthlessness, she pressed down upon Murong Chi’s shoulders and used her waist to reverse their positions.

Now Ming Jing was the one pinning Murong Chi against the pool wall.

She pushed herself upright and pulled away from Murong Chi’s wet, crimson lips.

Then, as though all strength had left her body, she rested her head in the hollow of Murong Chi’s neck.

She gasped uncontrollably, lying weakly against Murong Chi and relying on her body to remain upright.

Waves struck against them.

Both robes, redder than flame, were mostly soaked.

Black hair and white hair became tangled together, just like Ming Jing and Murong Chi at that moment.

Only after a long while did Ming Jing finally recover her breath.

She raised her head and looked at Murong Chi.

There, she saw a faint, undisguised smile within her eyes.

It was clear and carried an unmistakable desire to win.

It was a genuine smile.

Murong Chi was also looking at her.

The laughter in her eyes gradually deepened until her lips curved as well.

Bright, cheerful laughter echoed throughout the cavern dwelling, startling away the birds lingering outside.

Ming Jing was drenched from head to toe.

Amid the mist, she possessed a hazy, dreamlike beauty.

That decadent, fallen aura remained, but it only made her appear even closer to reckless intoxication, like peach blossoms beneath misty rain.

Her pitch-black eyes inevitably revealed one or two traces of emotion.

She could no longer withstand it.

Murong Chi laughed so hard that she bent forward and backward, delighted beyond measure.

The happier she laughed, the more furious and embarrassed Ming Jing became.

Within her heart, Ming Jing cursed Murong Chi for being shameless enough to use such a method to gain the upper hand.

Yet the strength of her hands increased.

After blinking and hesitating for a moment, she moved her lips forward and covered Murong Chi’s with them, kissing her with almost ferocious aggression.

Her momentum was overwhelming.

Her kissing skill was mediocre.

Even the hand resting at Murong Chi’s waist trembled several times.

She looked exactly like a newborn calf that knew nothing yet insisted on acting brave.

Murong Chi endured it for a long while.

In the end, she truly could not restrain herself.

Her shoulders shook with laughter beneath Ming Jing’s fierce assault, forcing Ming Jing to release her and turn her eyes away.

Her eyes were completely dark.

So was her expression.

“Little one, you should understand that with many things, greater force does not necessarily make them better.”

Murong Chi licked her dry lips and grabbed Ming Jing’s collar, her tone rising playfully.

“If you don’t know how, you must learn first.”

“Learn from me.”

Murong Chi pulled Ming Jing down by her collar.

Under Ming Jing’s unreadable gaze, her smile spread.

“We have plenty of time. There’s no need to rush.”

“When you still possessed sword aura, it could help me break the seal. Now that you’ve fallen into the demonic path, your Asura energy can serve the same purpose.”

Murong Chi never did anything that brought her no benefit.

Naturally, she had allowed Ming Jing to cultivate a demonic art because it would make her even more useful.

“So this time, you lose.”

Murong Chi casually added the declaration while biting Ming Jing’s cheek.

Ming Jing had once again become that inexperienced, bashful little creature.

Naturally, Murong Chi had reclaimed her victory.

Murong Chi felt completely vindicated.

Visible delight and triumph brightened her brows, making her appear vivid and alive, as though she had gathered the warmth and vitality of the mortal world into her arms.

Ming Jing was so angry that her teeth itched.

She leaned down and met those infinitely charming eyes.

As their temples brushed together, her tone was cool and indifferent.

“It isn’t over yet.”

“The winner has not been decided.”