AUOF - 10

Sang Li followed Ji Hengyu to the site of the array. It was located behind Xishui Town, at the moment springtime, with lush branches and leaves in full bloom. The mountain stream flowed gently through the wilderness, presenting a picturesque scene of human tranquility.

A narrow dirt path split the wilderness in two, winding from their feet deep into the forest.

The path appeared unremarkable, its overhanging branches concealing it, making it look ordinary and inconspicuous.

Ji Hengyu did not venture deeper. Instead, he extended his hand forward, and silver-white magical light rippled outward from his palm like waves. Suddenly, several strange dark red chains appeared in the air, each adorned with small runes. In an instant, the chains vanished, returning to normal.

He withdrew his hand and said, “The Silent Return Array.” Ji Hengyu smiled faintly. “As I thought, your Demon Lord is still as incompetent as ever.”

Sang Li remained silent, straining her mind to recall what the Silent Return Array was.

She hadn’t read the full text of the original story, but her friend had sent her numerous fan illustrations of Ji Hengyu, along with fragmented descriptions of his abilities.

The Silent Return Array was accidentally created by Ji Hengyu when he was five hundred years old.

—It was a type of soul-confusing array, but far more advanced.

This array used the caster’s soul blood as its core. Inside, it formed a small world where the sun and moon rotated differently from the real world. Thus, those who entered often couldn’t distinguish between reality and illusion. Without a way to break the array, dying within it was unsurprising.

“Can the array be broken?” Sang Li eventually asked.

Ji Hengyu: “Others certainly cannot.”

Sang Li: “…”

Show-off.

Ji Hengyu continued: “If a puppet is lured inside, it can break the array from within. However...”

His pause was masterful, and the sidelong glance he cast carried an underlying meaning.

Sang Li took two steps back, immediately sensing danger.

Sure enough, the next moment, he spoke—

“After the array is broken, your Demon Lord will suffer damage to his heart meridian. Your earlier confident promises will surely raise suspicions. If he grows furious and uses the dual-life curse against you...”

He didn’t finish, merely smiling as he watched her.

Sang Li stood frozen.

What he said made sense, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Ji Hengyu wasn’t being entirely altruistic...

Pretending not to understand the subtext, she feigned ignorance: “What does Lord Ji mean?”

Dappled sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, pouring down on him.

The man in his simple green robe resembled a bamboo stalk standing tall amidst the lingering chill of early spring—slender yet upright. His features were gentle, but his soft gaze felt like finely honed daggers encrusted with jewels and pearls.

Before he even spoke, her heart sank halfway.

“I’ll sever one of your hands and feet, so you can tell your Demon Lord...” His lips moved slowly, mimicking her tone, “Your subordinate has self-inflicted injuries to feign distress and lure Ji Ze into the trap. Ji Ze suspected nothing, but due to his excessive paranoia, he used a puppet to trigger the array, ultimately failing.”

Ji Hengyu tapped his fan lightly and asked Sang Li: “How’s that? Perfect, isn’t it?”

“…”

“……”

Perfect my ass!!

Who the hell wants to cut off their own limbs!!!

Sang Li immediately clasped her hands together and surrendered: “Lord Ji, please spare me! I’m just a lowly worker. I have elderly parents and children to care for. I work myself to the bone every day without earning a single copper coin. If you cripple me, my entire family will have no hope left.”

Her fox-like eyes glistened with tears, and if she had a tail, it would’ve wagged right in front of him.

Ji Hengyu raised an eyebrow, unmoved: “Don’t worry, I’ll reattach them for you later.”

???

Reattach?

Even in a fantasy world, could limbs really be reattached just like that?!

Whoever wants to reattach can do it—I’m not interested.

“Is there really no other way?”

Ji Hengyu nodded: “There is.”

Sang Li: “!!!”

Ji Hengyu calmly continued: “I’ll kill you first, so you won’t have to endure your Demon Lord’s torment.”

“…”

“……”

Sang Li held her breath: “Then... Can we not break arms or heads? Is there... some middle ground?”

Ji Hengyu played with his fan: “I’ll make a shallow cut on your arm and then cast an illusion over the wound. When your Demon Lord sees it, he’ll believe you’re severely injured.”

In truth, this was the most basic form of misdirection.

Normally, such a minor spell would be easily seen through. However, because Yan Jinglou had placed the dual-life curse on Sang Li, they couldn’t communicate face-to-face and relied solely on the paper effigy. Even with an illusion, he wouldn’t detect anything amiss.

Sang Li fell silent upon hearing this.

This bastard protagonist knows how to compromise—so why didn’t he suggest this earlier!!

Oh well.

As long as she doesn’t lose any limbs, anything else was fine.

Without hesitation, she hastily rolled up her sleeve and obediently offered her left arm, adding a few flattering words: “As expected of Lord Ji, your compromise is truly ingenious. Please cut here. Not too deep—I’m afraid of pain.”

Her skin was pale, tender, and plump, looking soft and squeezable.

The scattered light danced across her skin like ink dots adorning porcelain.

Ji Hengyu’s gaze lingered only briefly. He pressed his index and middle fingers together, stopping just before touching her skin. Then, with a swift motion, he made a cut about an inch long.

It still hurt a little.

But compared to losing an arm, leg, or her head, this pain was negligible.

Crimson blood beads slowly oozed out, trailing down her fair skin in glaring, fiery streaks.

Ji Hengyu inscribed a few golden talismanic characters, which adhered to the wound and quickly disappeared.

“It’s done.”

The wound was still bleeding, and she curiously poked the surrounding intact flesh: “That’s it?”

“Mm.” Ji Hengyu nodded. “In about a month, the wound will heal on its own.”

Sang Li frowned: “Does it really take that long?”

Ji Hengyu glanced at her: “If you’re not afraid of your Demon Lord doubting you, it can recover by tomorrow.” As he spoke, he prepared to wave his hand again.

Sang Li hurriedly dodged his approaching fingertips: “No need, no need! This is perfectly fine.”

Fearing Ji Hengyu might change his mind, she hastily tore a piece of fabric from her clothing and clumsily wrapped it around the wound, quickly pulling her sleeve back down.

Noticing her actions, a faint smile flickered across Ji Hengyu’s eyes.

“I’m ready, Lord Ji. You may begin now.”

Without hesitation, Ji Hengyu casually plucked a leaf from a nearby tree.

He dripped a drop of his own blood onto it. The moment the ancient Fuxi blood fused with the leaf, it transformed into something extraordinary.

The glowing green leaf floated in the air, and Ji Hengyu drew several talismanic arrays around it, inscribing within them—

[With soul blood, construct a puppet body; with pure clarity, bind its fate.]

“Go.”

With a flick of his sleeve, the leaf transformed into a humanoid figure.

It was an exact replica of Ji Hengyu, with nearly invisible threads controlling its limbs and head. The other end of the threads was held between Ji Hengyu’s fingers.

Though this was the crudest puppet Ji Hengyu had ever crafted, it still left Sang Li, the observer, marveling in awe.

Ji Hengyu manipulated the puppet into the secret array.

Ripples spread through the air as its body was gradually consumed by the array.

Ji Hengyu closed his eyes. Through the puppet, he could see and hear everything inside.

It was still Xishui Town.

The difference was that the Heavenly Gate remained open, with countless monsters pouring out one after another. Fires burned everywhere, and screams mixed with the sounds of tearing flesh, creating a horrifying scene of human tragedy.

Ji Hengyu even encountered one of the disciples from the Celestial Pavilion.

The disciple clearly didn’t realize he had entered the array. Upon seeing Ji Hengyu, he was overjoyed, fighting off nearby threats while tearfully pleading: “Lord Tianheng! Have you come to save us? For some reason, this Heavenly Gate… it won’t close! Please, I beg of you, lend us your aid—we can’t hold on much longer!”

After the Battle of the Desolate Mountain, the massive Heavenly Gate opened by Emperor Qi had been sealed, but smaller gates still lingered in the world. For disciples like them, who were tasked with guarding the gates, closing these smaller ones should have been well within their capabilities.

The absurdity lay in the fact that they had been locked in battle with the monsters of Xishui Town for three full months, yet the gate still refused to close and even showed signs of expanding.

Ji Hengyu listened coldly to his desperate plea.

“Fool.”

The young disciple froze. “Lord… what did you just say?”

Ji Hengyu didn’t respond, simply opening his eyes.

Seeing him finally react, Sang Li hurried forward: “What’s happening inside?”

Ji Hengyu sneered: “Even the slightest thought would reveal the trap. Truly a bunch of brainless fools with no strategy.”

“…” This was the first time Ji Hengyu had spoken so bluntly in criticism.

“Step back.”

Sang Li immediately knew what he was about to do and retreated ten meters.

After a moment’s thought, she hesitantly asked, “What about the people inside?”

Ji Hengyu countered: “What happens to them has nothing to do with you.”

Sang Li was taken aback: “But... it doesn’t concern me?”

Ji Hengyu continued: “And how does it concern me?”

“…”

She was left speechless, unable to find a response.

Ji Hengyu never cared about the lives of those unrelated to him.

His sole purpose was to locate the missing disciples of the Celestial Pavilion—whether alive or dead made no difference to him.

Hm… how could a corpse not count as a person?

Ji Hengyu controlled the puppet strings and began chanting: “Establish the Way with Heaven; suppress Yin with Yang; establish the Way with Earth, punish the wicked and deceive the good…”

His voice echoed clearly throughout the array via the puppet.

Unaware of the truth, the disciple’s eyes widened abruptly, bloodshot pupils flickering with either flames or fear.

“The Three Realms Punishment Curse! It’s the Three Realms Punishment Curse! Ji Hengyu, what are you doing?!”

The “Three Realms” referred to Heaven, Earth, and Humanity.

The Three Realms Punishment Curse—its name implied that once activated, it would annihilate all three realms simultaneously within the cursed area.

This was an evil curse, a devastating spell of mutual destruction. Even Emperor Qi had never considered using it.

Ji Hengyu continued chanting: “Establish the Way with Humanity, absolve sins, resolve calamities…”

He brought his palms together, pressing his index and middle fingers before spreading them wide—

“Return the Three Realms to their rightful place!”

Sacred light poured from his fingertips, shaking heaven and earth in an instant.

Within the Silent Return Array, the world began to collapse. The Heavenly Gate sealed shut, the earth split apart, and the sun and moon merged then dissolved into nothingness. The disciples fled and screamed but were ultimately swallowed by the collapsing ground in despair.

Outside the array, birds scattered in fright, and the clear blue sky turned dark in moments.

Lightning bolts tore through the heavens, causing the earth itself to tremble.

As the array began to shatter, Yan Jinglou’s eyes snapped open.

His spirit was unstable, and a foul energy rampaged through his dantian, eventually crashing straight into his consciousness.

Not good!!

Yan Jinglou gathered all his spiritual energy to protect his mind, but in almost an instant, the energy broke through the gates of his consciousness.

With a thunderous crash—

His five senses exploded, his upper dantian shattered immediately, and chaotic energy surged wildly through the seven gates. In this state of complete disarray, Yan Jinglou collapsed, coughing up a mouthful of black blood.

Clenching his chest, he had no time to regulate his breathing and stumbled toward the array platform.

Clearly visible now—the array was beginning to self-destruct.

Yan Jinglou’s entire body trembled, his facial muscles twitching uncontrollably in rage. Veins bulged across his forehead—was it anger at the failure of his plan, or fury at his inability to harm his enemy despite meticulous scheming?

Even after several deep breaths, Yan Jinglou couldn’t calm himself. Finally, in a fit of uncontrollable rage, he erupted into maniacal laughter—

“Hah… hahaha, hahahaha—!”

When the laughter subsided, he slammed his fist into the array platform: “Ji Hengyu… Ji Hengyu!!”

Each utterance of Ji Hengyu’s name carried increasing bitterness and hatred.

Finally, the last corner of the array was destroyed.

The Silent Return Array, infused with his own soul blood, now turned its destructive backlash upon him.

His dantian neared destruction, but Yan Jinglou managed to stabilize his energy enough to prevent it from shattering completely. However, his spine fractured segment by segment. To repair it would take at least three months—if not a year.

Blood soaked his entire body, seeping from his seven orifices.

Standing amidst the pool of blood, Yan Jinglou’s already sinister and violent visage now resembled that of a demonic Asura.