Only now did Ji Rong realize that the two attendants standing at the highest point were none other than Lan Cen and Yun Ying.
Their eyes were vacant, like puppets on strings, playing an invisible instrument in the air.
At that moment, she suddenly thought of her little snow fox, only to find that her pet had not followed the crowd to the higher ground. Instead, it had reverted to its fox form and was pitifully clinging to Gu Baiyi's leg.
Ji Rong: "…"
This little thing was useless at everything, except clinging to someone's thigh faster than anyone else.
Wu Yan hugged Gu Baiyi's leg tightly, lamenting bitterly: This person is still the most reliable. Unlike its own master, who always forgets about it.
On the other side, Gu Baiyi held Ji Rong close and gazed at the sea of corpses and blood before them.
She took a deep breath and said, "I suppose that great hall is an illusion. The disciples here have all fallen under Yan Haiyao's Nightmare Arts and have lost their minds."
Ji Rong nodded and looked toward the high seat.
There, a blue-robed disciple walked unsteadily toward Yan Haiyao, his expression blank.
Yan Haiyao observed the disciple with a look of satisfaction. He reached out and gently stroked the young man's head, his voice soft and coaxing. "Little friend, would you be willing to lend me a hand?"
The disciple, his eyes empty, nodded in response.
The next moment, Yan Haiyao smiled and shattered the disciple's skull with a single palm strike.
Blood splattered instantly.
A red mist filled the air.
Yan Haiyao inhaled deeply, intoxicated by the scent. Even the silver strands at his temples darkened.
He felt his spiritual energy surge within him, the constraints on his body about to break apart.
But Ji Rong was thoroughly disgusted by his twisted amusement.
It was clearly his own sorcery that had enslaved these people, yet he still put on a hypocritical act before killing them. Was he mentally ill or something?
The next moment, Yan Haiyao chuckled again and grabbed another disciple, once more crushing his skull with ease.
With each death, the chains binding his body loosened further, and his face grew visibly younger, no longer resembling the decrepit old man he had been moments ago.
Ji Rong's scalp tingle. She had long forgotten that she was still in Gu Baiyi's embrace. Tilting her head up, she asked, "Can we still stop him in time?"
Gu Baiyi shook her head and answered softly, "It's too late. Most likely, when we first entered Yunxian Cave, Yan Haiyao had already set up an illusion. Over the years, he has consumed the blood of many living beings, those white bones we saw earlier are proof enough."
Ji Rong recalled the countless corpses scattered throughout the cave.
She was beginning to understand but still frowned and asked, "But Yan Haiyao has been confined to the eighth underground level. How was he able to kill from a distance?"
"That, even I am unsure of," Gu Baiyi admitted. "Unless… the Nightmare Arts he cultivates is the forbidden technique 'Thousand Changes.' Otherwise, it would be impossible for him to take lives from thousands of miles away."
Hearing the name 'Thousand Changes,' Ji Rong suddenly remembered something.
Not long ago, she had even accused Gu Baiyi of practicing 'Thousand Changes' herself. Now, she felt a bit guilty about it.
She hadn't expected a top-tier skill in the game to be so powerful. Yet, Gu Baiyi had gone along with her assumption back then, which was rather considerate of her.
Gu Baiyi, unaware of Ji Rong's train of thought, was lost in contemplation. She had been able to resist the influence of 'Thousand Changes' only because she had cultivated the seventh level of Yu Fei. But how had Ji Rong managed to remain unaffected?
In mere moments, another chain snapped apart.
Yan Haiyao's face contorted with immense pain before he finally broke free from the shackles binding his legs.
Slowly, he stood up and smiled, speaking with a pleasant tone, "Forgive my lack of composure. I must have embarrassed myself before you two young friends. Once I leave this cave, I shall properly entertain you."
With that, he reached out and grabbed Qiu Sushuang's shoulder, seemingly intent on tearing her arm off.
Seeing this, Ji Rong and Gu Baiyi immediately leaped toward the high seat.
Their swords flashed as they drew their blades, striking directly at Yan Haiyao's face.
A silver gleam streaked across the air, but their swords struck an invisible barrier. The sword light sank into it like a stone into water, vanishing without a trace.
Yan Haiyao, still smiling, let go of Qiu Sushuang and leisurely asked, "Oh? It seems this person is rather important to you two."
Gu Baiyi made no effort to conceal the killing intent in her eyes. She said in a low voice, "If you insist on killing her, then you will have to kill me first."
Ji Rong's heart trembled at those words, reinforcing her suspicion that Gu Baiyi knew the plot of this story.
If the heroine wasn't someone who had been reborn, why would she care so much about Qiu Sushuang?
Still, at a life-and-death moment like this, even her usual tendency to obsess over romantic pairings faded. After all, if the 'second wife' died, there would be no pairing left to obsess over.
Yan Haiyao chuckled and said, "I had initially spared you two because you reminded me of old acquaintances. I had no desire to kill you."
He then added with a smirk, "But since you insist on courting death, don't blame me for being rude."
With that, he let out a long howl, and the chains around him shattered entirely. The Cangming Sword unsheathed, its strike swift and unstoppable, aiming straight for Gu Baiyi's chest.
The sword carried an overwhelming pressure.
In response, Gu Baiyi raised the Hanshui Sword and executed Clouds Between Water, barely managing to deflect the incoming blow.
At the same time, the Red Lotus Mark on Gu Baiyi's neck burned even brighter, searing to the eyes.
When she opened her eyes again, they had turned a deep crimson, gleaming with an eerie light.
It was Gu Xueyi.
Yan Haiyao was slightly surprised. Though he had only used ten percent of his strength just now, for a disciple of this level to withstand his sword strike was beyond his expectations.
"You are talented, little friend. Your future is boundless. Why throw your life away by blocking my path?"
Before his words had fully settled, a cold light flared from the other side.
The Qinghe Sword descended with a burst of violet-black lightning, striking precisely upon his shoulder.
Though the lightning looked fearsome, Yan Haiyao had long mastered Thousand Changes to perfection. Ji Rong's Thunderclap Strike was ultimately nothing more than a mild irritation to him.
At that moment, he flicked aside the Hanshui Sword with ease and met the Qinghe Sword head-on, channeling pure spiritual power to instantly suppress the lightning.
He eyed the attack with interest and even praised, "This move carries a hint of the true essence of a Sword Saint. Unfortunately, your strength falls short. You still need much more practice."
Ji Rong held her Qinghe Sword, momentarily speechless.
Was this what it meant to be a true powerhouse? Killing people while casually offering advice, was this some kind of occupational habit?
In truth, before cultivating Thousand Changes, Yan Haiyao had been the son of the Huanhua Palace Master and the head of Tianyin Division, frequently guiding three thousand disciples. Offering Ji Rong some pointers now was merely second nature.
Seeing both Ji Rong and Gu Baiyi as promising talents, he had shown some leniency, using only a fraction of his strength instead of immediately defeating them.
Yet, this slow and methodical oppression only served to enrage Gu Xueyi, whose mind had been overtaken by her heart demon.
She let out a cold laugh. As her sword struck down, she shouted at Yan Haiyao, "If you want to fight or kill, do it quickly! Stop pretending to be some benevolent sage."
For years, Yan Haiyao had been sustaining himself on the blood of living creatures in the secret realm. His cultivation had already recovered to seventy percent.
Killing Gu Xueyi would be effortless.
However, at that moment, as he gazed at the crimson in her eyes and the Red Lotus Mark on her neck, his brows furrowed slightly.
"Are you a descendant of Chu Changli?" he asked.
The Cangming Sword clashed against the Hanshui Sword. This time, he used thirty percent of his strength, pressing the Hanshui Sword down by several inches and forcing Gu Xueyi to retreat.
Blood trickled from the corner of Gu Xueyi's lips.
Once she steadied herself, she raised a hand to wipe the blood away, smiling faintly.
"You've been hiding in the secret realm for a hundred years, so naturally, you wouldn't know. Even without your participation in the Battle of Demon Suppression, Chu Changli was still killed by the Sword Saint. So where would she have found any descendants?"
Ji Rong, hearing this, quickly pieced things together.
Most likely, the righteous sects had discovered that Yan Haiyao had gone astray, cultivating Thousand Changes and falling into demonic practices. To cover up his disappearance, they had written his name into the list of the fallen from the Battle of Demon Suppression, feigning his death to keep things neat and honorable.
Yan Haiyao was silent for a moment before he frowned and asked, "Chu Changli is dead? But she had already reached the pinnacle of the Desperate Realm back then. How could Yue Qianqiu have killed her so easily?"
"Believe it or not, that's the truth," Gu Xueyi replied indifferently. "Whether you're dead or alive, it makes no difference to the grand scheme of things."
A flicker of confusion appeared on Yan Haiyao's face.
He stood there, murmuring to himself, "She's dead? Then… is the world at peace now? Are there no more demons plaguing the land?"
Ji Rong let out a cold laugh, shattering his delusion.
"You say that so lightly, Yan Haiyao. Look around at these fields of bones, and then tell me again about 'no more demons.'"
Yan Haiyao snapped out of his daze, staring blankly at the fresh blood on his hands.
For a century, he had told himself that as long as demons remained, the world was still in turmoil and still needed him.
Eradicating demons and restoring peace had been the sole reason he endured, the driving force behind his cultivation of Thousand Changes.
But now, these two were telling him that Chu Changli was already dead.
Then what had been the purpose of his decades of cultivation?
What was the meaning behind all the disciples he had slain and the wife he had sacrificed?
Lost in his thoughts, Yan Haiyao's mind wavered.
And in that fleeting moment of distraction, a silver sword pierced straight through his body.
The sudden pain jolted him back to reality.
Narrowing his eyes, he looked at the sword embedded in his chest. Flames burned through his meridians, the blade tainted with demonic energy. A furious roar escaped his lips.
Fenchuan.
The sword technique that had struck him—it was Fenchuan.
Yan Haiyao spun away, breaking free from the Hanshui Sword and retreating backward.
Ignoring the blood spurting from his wound, he lifted the Cangming Sword with an impassive expression, leveling its blade at Gu Xueyi.
The demons had not yet been eradicated.