Something had awakened.
The aftershock of the shattered Thunder Origin Crystal was still spiraling through the valley when a new presence seeped out of the teleportation array—rolling over the ground like a tide.
It wasn't yin energy.
It wasn't spiritual qi.
It was something older.
Like a coffin sealed for a thousand years suddenly pried open, letting a long-slumbering existence crack its eyes.
Everyone froze.
Ghost Elder reacted first. His bone staff slammed into the ground, and a surge of cold yin energy contracted into a three-zhang-wide barrier, sealing himself and his disciples inside like an iron barrel.
The two cultivators from the Golden Armor Sect stood back-to-back, sigils blazing across their armor, light sharp enough to sting the eyes.
The Thunder Hall cultivator flared with lightning, crackling arcs dancing around his body as he stared unblinking at the center of the array.
On Jiang Mucheng's side, Dongfang Qingluan's compass needle spun wildly.
"Space is warping," he said hoarsely. "Not just the array—the entire valley's spatial structure is shifting!"
Before the words finished leaving his mouth, the runes that had gone dark on the array reignited.
Dark red.
Like blood bleeding into water, spreading outward from the array core, staining the stone platform beneath. Ancient markings—once blurred by time—flared into terrifying clarity.
They weren't formation runes.
They were words.
Twisted characters with hooks and barbs, etched with malice.
"Ancient demon script…" Huan Xinyue whispered, her voice trembling as she took a half-step back. "I've seen fragments in the forbidden vaults of Illusion Mist Manor. These are formations left by the ancient demon race."
"A demon array?!" Wang Duobao's legs nearly gave out.
The Nine Provinces hadn't seen demons in three thousand years. The last demonic calamity was recorded as rivers of blood and cities left empty.
And yet—here, deep within the Mistbound Forest, lay a demon teleportation array?
"Wait," Lin Hanshan said sharply, sword half-drawn. "Look closely at the patterns around the array core. There's Buddhist swastika seals. Daoist trigrams. This formation… was modified."
Modified?
Jiang Mucheng's heart skipped. He pushed All-Spirit Resonance Art to its limit.
This time, he heard it clearly.
The awakened presence was a tangled mess—demonic brutality, Buddhist compassion, Daoist clarity… and beneath it all, a faintly familiar echo.
The same Buddhist power contained in the fragment of the Diamond Sutra Shijia Mingkong had given him.
"It's a suppression array," Jiang Mucheng said aloud. "Someone discovered the demon array long ago. Instead of destroying it, they sealed it using Buddhist and Daoist formations. The explosion just now cracked part of that seal—"
Crack.
The stone slab at the center of the array split open.
Black mist poured out.
Thick as ink.
From within it emerged a massive hand—covered in black scales, fingers hooked like talons, nails long as daggers. It slammed onto the stone platform with a hiss, leaving five deep craters in solid rock.
"Fall back!" Ghost Elder roared.
Everyone retreated in unison.
The mist continued to pour forth, coalescing into a three-zhang-tall phantom: humanoid, horned, with the faint outline of skeletal wings.
Even as a mere remnant soul, its pressure crushed the air. Several low-level cultivators dropped to their knees instantly, faces drained white.
"A demonic spirit remnant," the Thunder Hall cultivator growled. "At least mid–Foundation Establishment. This is bad."
Dark red flames flickered in the hollow eye sockets of the spirit.
It opened its mouth.
"Blood…"
"Fresh blood…"
The voice carried a seductive pull.
Two of the weakest disciples staggered forward, eyes glazed, drawn toward the array.
"Wake up!"
Jiang Mucheng shouted, activating the Diamond Sutra jade slip at his chest. Gentle Buddhist power washed out like clear water over the mind.
The two disciples shuddered, snapped awake, and scrambled back in terror.
The demonic spirit roared, enraged by the Buddhist energy, and slashed outward—
Five streaks of black qi shot toward Jiang Mucheng's face.
Clang!
Lin Hanshan's sword flashed, cutting down three. Nangong Feiyue hurled three Blazing Sun Talismans, fire swallowing the remaining two.
But the second wave was already coming.
Black mist surged like a tidal wave.
"Form up!" Jiang Mucheng yelled.
The Coldborn Mutual Aid Society closed ranks instantly. Lu Hanshan and Zhao Tieniu held the front, blades roaring. Wang Duobao and Zhou Xiaohuan raised a crude barrier. Nangong Feiyue, Lin Hanshan, Dongfang Qingluan, and Huan Xinyue unleashed their arts in a storm of light.
Ghost Elder went even further—biting his finger, he drew a blood sigil on his bone staff and slammed it into the ground.
"Ten Thousand Ghosts Devour the Spirit!"
The earth split open. Pale skeletal hands clawed up from below, tearing into the black mist. Where they collided, sizzling white smoke reeked of rot.
The Golden Armor Sect cultivators merged their armor into a towering golden colossus, shield driving forward.
The Thunder Hall cultivator became a streak of lightning, serpents of thunder dancing around the demon spirit.
Three factions attacked together.
Still—it wasn't enough.
In life, the demon had been at least Core Formation. Even as a remnant, it crushed them.
The defensive line shrank, inch by inch.
"Junior Brother Jiang, we can't hold!" Lu Hanshan shouted, blood streaming from his hands.
Jiang Mucheng's mind raced.
A head-on fight meant death.
Escape? The valley was sealed by cliffs.
The only way out—
The teleportation array.
The suppression formation was only partially damaged. If it could be restored—
"Senior Brother Dongfang!" Jiang Mucheng shouted. "How long to fix the suppression array?"
"One incense stick!" Dongfang Qingluan yelled, dodging mist with spatial arts. "But we need a Buddhist or Daoist artifact as the array core!"
Jiang Mucheng pulled out the Diamond Sutra jade slip. "This work?"
"Yes!" Dongfang's eyes lit up. "But we need a Daoist artifact to balance yin and yang!"
Daoist artifact…
Jiang Mucheng looked at Ghost Elder's bone staff. At its tip was a black pearl, pulsing with yin yet faintly resonant with Daoist intent.
"Ghost Elder!" Jiang Mucheng called out. "If you want to live—lend me the Yinsha Pearl!"
Ghost Elder's face twisted.
That pearl was one of his life-bound artifacts, nurtured for thirty years.
But the situation—
"Kid, if you dare—" He ripped it free and threw it. "Don't make me regret this!"
Jiang caught it, cold biting into his bones. He handed both the pearl and jade slip to Dongfang Qingluan.
"Senior Brother—please."
"What about you?"
"I'll hold it."
Before anyone could stop him, Jiang Mucheng charged the demon spirit.
"Brother Jiang!" Wang Duobao cried.
Too late.
All-Spirit Resonance Art roared to its limit. Every ripple of mist, every twitch of the demon's power mapped itself into Jiang's mind.
Then—he did something no one expected.
He raised the jade flute.
And played.
The melody cut through the chaos, eerily calm.
And impossibly—
The demon spirit slowed.
Its red eyes locked onto Jiang Mucheng.
"All-Spirit Resonance…" the spirit rasped. "How does a human know Bai Gui's art?"
Jiang's heart slammed.
It knew Bai Gui?
He kept playing, transmitting intent through resonance.
"We mean no offense, Senior. If you cease hostilities, we'll help you find peace."
A gamble.
How much reason did this spirit still have?
The demon went silent.
The mist stopped advancing.
After a long moment, it spoke, voice cracked with pain.
"Bai Gui… is he still alive?"
"He has fallen," Jiang said truthfully. "I only inherited fragments."
"…Fallen…" the demon whispered. "Then we truly lost that war…"
It howled, the sound shaking the cliffs.
"Three thousand years! I was sealed for three thousand years! Why does humanity live in the light while my kind rots in chains?!"
The mist surged again—but Jiang heard something new beneath the rage.
Grief.
Resentment.
Unending pain.
"Senior," Jiang called out, "three thousand years is enough. If you're willing to let go, I can help you find release—not suppression. True release."
Silence fell.
"Release?" the demon sneered weakly. "My body is gone. My soul is broken. What release is there but annihilation?"
"Reincarnation," Jiang said. "I know a Buddhist master who may help you enter the cycle."
"Buddhists?" the demon spat. "They slaughtered my people!"
"Times change," Jiang said evenly. "There are enlightened ones now. If you trust me, give me three days. If not—"
He paused.
"Then we fight to the death. And you know how that ends."
Threat.
Offer.
A single thread of hope.
The demon spirit wavered.
"…Three days," it said at last. "Bring the monk. If you fail—"
The mist withdrew. The裂缝 sealed. The red light faded.
The valley fell silent.
Jiang Mucheng exhaled shakily.
That conversation had been danced on a blade's edge.