AUOF - 28

Time flowed slower within the secret realm compared to the outside world. In just the span of an incense stick burning, nearly half of the thousand participants had already been eliminated.

Compared to the other three realms, the Examination Division paid closer attention to the Realm of Illusions (Wu Huan Zhi Jing ).

This realm was unique—it consisted of layers upon layers of illusions, one nested within another. Rather than physical trials, the mental challenges here were far more difficult to overcome.

Many disciples couldn’t withstand the torment after reaching the second layer of illusions, their minds collapsing and descending into madness.

“That maid, Sang Li, was actually the first to break out of the Wu Nian Jing (Realm of No Thought),” someone remarked in astonishment.

The Realm of No Thought was classified as an A-grade illusion within the secret realm.

Its appearance was unpredictable and irregular. If one was lucky, they might not encounter it at all; if unlucky, they could be pulled into its grasp, making it nearly impossible to escape.

It projected the deepest greed buried within a person’s heart—their most desired things: power, beauty, wealth, jewels—everything one could wish for would come true within the illusion. Though it was called the Realm of No Thought, it was, in essence, the Realm of Greed. Many people, despite knowing it was an illusion, still chose to succumb willingly, never waking up again.

Those on the outside couldn’t see the fantasies experienced by the disciples through the Celestial Mirror. As long as the disciples remained lucid, it meant they had passed the trial.

At this moment, Ji Xun gazed at the weeping figure reflected in the Celestial Mirror, his thoughts unknown.

“It’s the True Form Spring.”

In the desert where Sang Li stood, a clear spring suddenly appeared.

This was the True Form Spring. Ji Hengyu had placed similar springs in every level of the secret realm primarily to prevent spies from demon clans or monsters from infiltrating. One sip of the True Form Spring would expose even the highest-level concealment techniques.

Sang Li rubbed her eyes and began walking toward it.

Ji Xun’s brow twitched. He connected with Ji Wu in the consciousness sea: [You take over for me.]

He then released a spell to disrupt the Celestial Mirror. His dark figure, moving faster than the eye could follow, shot into the Realm of Illusions. Simultaneously, Ji Wu used a technique to swap places with Ji Xun.

“How strange, why did the Celestial Mirror go out?”

The extinguished Celestial Mirror drew everyone’s attention, and no one noticed that the Immortal Lord seated above had switched bodies.

Ji Wu’s expression remained calm, but internally, he was already cursing.

What was going on?

Damn it, didn’t they know how much he hated dealing with these official matters?!

**

After crying herself out, Sang Li was utterly drained, both mentally exhausted and physically parched.

She wiped away her tears haphazardly with her sleeve and wandered aimlessly through the endless desert.

The spiritual pressure within the secret realm was dense, making her feel as though she carried thousands of pounds on her back. Every step required immense effort. Having never known the meaning of giving up from childhood, Sang Li persisted despite her aching body, determined to complete the trial.

The sands seemed to thin out slightly.

In the distance, she spotted a clear spring appearing in the desert, like a bright moon reflected in the yellow earth. Instantly, a flicker of hope ignited within her.

Sang Li hurried over.

Sure enough, it was indeed a clear spring!

The water was crystal-clear, tempting her to swallow hard.

She knelt by the spring and carefully scooped up a handful of water. It was cool and seemed sweet.

First, she splashed some water on her face to refresh herself.

Just as she lowered her head to drink, something felt off.

How could a spring appear so inexplicably in the middle of this barren desert?

—Could it be poisoned?

Or perhaps it was another illusion?

Her eyes flickered hesitantly, and ultimately, she stepped away from the spring.

At that moment, two disciples dressed in gray-blue robes approached together. From their attire, they appeared to be minor cloud immortals undergoing the trial collaboratively.

Sang Li’s guard immediately went up.

Within such a secret realm, it was a dog-eat-dog world. Even killing one’s own sect-mates wasn’t unheard of. She cautiously touched the dagger strapped to her waist and subtly retreated two steps.

However, the two merely smiled kindly at her. After drinking their fill, they filled a waterskin to the brim and then rose to leave.

From their behavior, nothing seemed unusual.

Was she overthinking things?

Still uneasy, she waited a little longer.

After the third and fourth disciples came and drank without incident, Sang Li finally couldn’t bear her thirst any longer. Crawling over, she gulped down two large mouthfuls of water.

So sweet.

So cool.

Mmm, so refreshing.

While Sang Li was busy drinking, she failed to notice someone standing beside her.

When she caught sight of the blue-green hem of his robe reflected in the water, she instinctively shifted aside politely.

“Does it taste good?”

The man’s voice was low, with a raspy texture like sandpaper, brushing past her ear without a trace of warmth. Each word was flat and cold.

As Sang Li continued drinking, she began to sense something amiss.

Her round eyes stared at the reflection in the water, and her furry ears twitched repeatedly.

Furry… ears?

Why were her ears furry?

“?”

“!!”

The water caught in her throat, and she choked violently.

Terrified, Sang Li rolled twice in the sand. When she finally saw the full figure of the newcomer, her surprise turned to fear.

The raging sands swirled around them.

Not a speck of dust clung to his clothes. His pitch-black pupils gleamed like two pieces of glass, devoid of warmth, leaving only coldness behind.

Shen Zheyou extended his right hand behind his back, making a motion as if drawing a sword. A shadowy black blade emerged from his spine, followed by a long, ink-colored sword.

The sword was as straight as his figure, its blade etched with fiery patterns, exuding a chilling, murderous aura.

—The Qi Yi Zhe Yun Jian (Prayer Intention Cloud-Cleaving Sword).

Sang Li sharply inhaled.

Legend had it that he was born with a sword bone, and since birth, this life-bound sword had lain dormant within his fate bone.

After reincarnation, the Qi Yi Zhe Yun Jian (Prayer Intention Cloud-Cleaving Sword), which symbolized his identity, had never awakened—precisely why Yuezhu Qing had never seen through his true identity.

The first time Shen Zheyou drew this sword after being reborn, the first person he killed was Yuezhu Qing.

Still stunned, Sang Li noticed someone else approaching to drink from the spring.

Upon closer inspection, weren’t they the same two who had come earlier?

She glanced at her round fox body and then at the spring before her, realizing she had been deceived.

This was blatant entrapment!

“Extreme Intent… Eight Directions!”

Shen Zheyou clasped his hands into an array, and the floating Zhe Yun Jian split into eight swords under the movement of his fingertips. The eight swords formed a chilling sword array, rushing straight toward Sang Li’s vital points.

She dodged quickly.

In her panic, she began frantically thinking of ways to revert to her original form.

However, the more flustered she became, the more chaotic her thoughts grew. In front of Shen Zheyou, she leapt around like a monkey, transforming with each jump: one moment into a small piglet, the next into a little yellow duck, then into a turtle with pink ears, looking utterly ridiculous.

Shen Zheyou’s eyelids twitched, and for a moment, he remained motionless, silently watching Sang Li’s performance.

Good news: she transformed back.

Bad news: her ears and tail hadn’t disappeared.

Sang Li held her dangling fox tail, head bowed, feeling rather defeated.

Shen Zheyou: “...”

After years of slaying demons, he had never encountered such a bizarre case.

Taking a shallow breath, he sheathed his sword—

“If you surrender now, I won’t take your life.” Shen Zheyou wasn’t unreasonable. As a Guardian of Heaven, it was his duty to eliminate demons and uphold justice, but he wouldn’t indiscriminately kill the innocent.

Even if they were demons, as long as they hadn’t committed heinous acts, Shen Zheyou would give them a chance to reform.

This little fox spirit appeared to be about a hundred years old, her aura pure and untainted by bloodshed. She likely had just learned how to transform into human form and could still be redeemed.

“Come with me, explain your intentions honestly, and I can request Lord Tian Heng to reduce your sentence.”

Sang Li raised her head, staring blankly at him: “...?”

Just like that, she was going to be thrown in jail?

She hesitantly asked: “Reducing the sentence… how many years?”

Shen Zheyou calmly replied: “According to Gui Xu law, unauthorized entry into the Celestial Gate is a grave offense. For such crimes, offenders are imprisoned in the 88th level of the Abyss Prison and subjected to a century of Heavenly Fire punishment.”

Abyss Prison, 88th level, Heavenly Fire punishment.

These heavy words hit Sang Li like a ton of bricks, leaving her dizzy and disoriented.

She furiously shook her head, activated her concealment technique, and fled decisively.

Was she stupid?

How could she possibly allow herself to be captured so easily?

Shen Zheyou sighed helplessly and immediately gave chase, his cold voice no less terrifying than a death knell to Sang Li: “Running away is the gravest offense. You’ll be imprisoned in the 108th level of the Water Lotus Dungeon, subjected to freezing bone punishment for three centuries. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

Spare her, please!!!

Sang Li was so terrified that her soul nearly flew out of her body. Her steps carried the wind as she fled with incredible speed.

But then she thought—running away like this seemed pathetic. She had passed the initial trial, so she must have gained something. Based on her years of learning experience, this should be the perfect time to consolidate her newfound abilities.

Sang Li steadied her mind and slowly closed her eyes.

She probed her dantian and consciousness sea, attempting to control a wisp of her spiritual energy. Like a living thread, it flowed flexibly from the Small Square Heaven to the Four Regions. Suddenly, a surge of cool, abundant energy flooded her spirit field, making her feel refreshed throughout her body. She even felt her spirit platform stabilize, as though she had gained some profound enlightenment.

Roaming the heavens and earth, free and selfless.

This was—

The Spontaneous Heart Technique !

Sang Li turned around, tightly closing her eyes as her fingers formed seals guided by her will.

Pale pink spiritual light shimmered like stars at her fingertips, gathering into a torrent of spiritual power. It erupted into a fierce storm, stirring up sand and dust. Countless spiritual blades, akin to a dense rain of knives, enveloped him in a barrage that covered the sky and earth.

Shen Zheyou’s expression shifted in surprise. He hastily constructed a protective barrier of sword qi, narrowly avoiding harm.

Though her attack was slightly inferior in strength, compared to before, it was as if she had become an entirely different person…

This demon was no ordinary foe.

She had to be eliminated!

Shen Zheyou set aside his lingering pity and prepared to pursue her with his sword.

But at that moment, the heavens and earth collapsed, turning colorless. A powerful illusion of unprecedented divine light violently dragged him into its depths.

In his last fleeting moment of consciousness, Shen Zheyou caught a glimpse of a black shadow flashing past, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

**

Sang Li was busy fleeing for her life, panting heavily along the way.

Only after confirming that Shen Zheyou wasn’t pursuing her did she collapse onto the ground, letting out a long sigh of relief. Then, she broke into a silly grin.

It had been terrifying, but also exhilarating.

Earlier… hadn’t she just developed a unique cultivation technique all her own? Not something left behind by the original owner, but something she had genuinely figured out on her own.

What did this mean? It meant she had room to grow stronger!

Once she solidified and refined it later, she wouldn’t let anyone dare bully her again.

After resting enough, Sang Li got up and continued walking.

She was exhausted.

Her legs felt like they were propped up by jacks, each step causing her to sweat profusely.

That one move had nearly drained all of her spiritual energy. Every step she took now was depleting the last dregs of her strength. The fact that she could still remain conscious was due entirely to her sheer willpower.

Her chest felt heavy and stifling.

Sang Li told herself not to collapse.

With Shen Zheyou’s self-disciplined and principled nature, he would never let this matter rest. If she were dragged out and exposed in front of everyone, even Ji Hengyu wouldn’t protect her. She didn’t want to be thrown into the Abyss Prison…

She was so tired, her mind foggy, and streaks of white light began to flicker before her eyes.

The ground beneath her feet started to crumble, but she lacked the strength to evade. Her body sank along with the collapsing earth, falling into the abyss.

Just as she was about to be swallowed by the materialized illusion, a pair of hands suddenly steadied her slender waist, pulling her into an embrace and whisking her out of the illusory realm.

Sang Li was held tightly, half-conscious and half-asleep.

Her eyes were slightly open, her vision blurred. Through the haze, she faintly saw the sharp line of the man’s jaw and the slight protrusion of his Adam’s apple.

Ji Hengyu.

His presence was cold, familiar, and unchanged from that night.

In her daze, Sang Li mustered the courage to reach out and touch his face. However, she missed his cheek and ended up brushing his Adam’s apple instead.

Ji Xun noticed what she was trying to do and swiftly carried her up into a tree.

The dense layers of tree shadows concealed their figures. This was the first time Ji Xun had held her—she was so soft, as if even her bones were pliable. As she pressed close to his chest, Ji Xun heard the rhythm of his heart become erratic.

He couldn’t describe the feeling—it was just… his limbs went numb, and even his sense of touch grew unclear.

Everything felt both illusory and real.

“Don’t grab me…” Sang Li murmured incoherently, her eyes closed.

Ji Xun lowered his gaze to her pale face. His fingertips itched, and unable to resist, he gently touched her lashes as though caressing a delicate flower petal. He quickly withdrew his hand, stiffening and not daring to move.

His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of his chest.

Anxiety, unease, and a hint of joy—all these complex emotions swirled together, spreading throughout his body, leaving him at a loss. In the end, all that remained was silence, his calm eyes gazing intently at her.

There were ears.

Fox ears.

Fuzzy and soft, their tips a peach-pink like blossoms. When his fingertips reached out to touch them, they twitched and shied away.

A tail…

Yes, there was also a tail.

Only then did Ji Xun realize his palm was resting on her fluffy tail. The velvety sensation made him feel as if he were facing something dangerous.

For any species with a tail, this area was off-limits. Realizing his transgression, he hastily moved his hand away. Yet, he soon felt reluctant and stealthily tried to touch it again.

Ji Xun knew this wasn’t appropriate.

Suppressing the urge, he carefully placed her beside him, letting her lean against his shoulder as she drifted off to sleep.

Afterward, Ji Xun became a block of wood—a wooden pillow for her to rest on.

—A wooden pillow.

Sang Li slept for a while, then woke up, muttering in her sleep: “Ji Hengyu, don’t throw me in jail. I don’t want to be locked up.”

Even in her unconsciousness, all she could see was the image of being dragged off to prison.

Ji Xun’s long lashes flickered slightly. “I won’t arrest you,” he said in a voice identical to Ji Hengyu’s, but infused with a gentler tone.

Sang Li mumbled: “I don’t want to be tortured either…”

Ji Xun softly promised: “You won’t be tortured.”

Sang Li: “Really?”

Ji Xun: “Really.”

Sang Li: “Swear it.”

Ji Xun: “I swear.”

The two exchanged questions and answers until they finally fell silent.

Under the influence of the Silken Thread Curse, the secondary host would unconditionally protect and cherish the primary host, while the primary host would instinctively trust the secondary.

Their hearts connected without reservation, and she began to relax. The sense of peace emanating from her heart caused her to unconsciously wrap her arms around Ji Xun’s arm, nuzzling her head against him to find a more comfortable position before drifting off to sleep.

The sudden reliance left him holding his breath, too afraid to move.

Time stood still within the illusory tree.

Ji Xun waved his sleeve, sweeping away the encroaching sands. Spring bloomed all around, and the branches burst into flowers.

With another flick of his sleeve, the sky darkened, stars filled the heavens, and a lone moon pierced through the treetops, softly enveloping her in its glow.

This was Mirror Flower, Water Moon —an illusion technique capable of crafting a serene dreamscape.

Thinking of her earlier tears, Ji Xun placed his fingertip on her forehead and slowly infused her with a purifying spirit energy, weaving a beautiful dream for her. After some thought, he extracted the memories of her experiences within the illusion.

Those outside couldn’t see the illusions experienced by those inside.

If they wanted to know, they’d have to use a technique to peer into the other person’s consciousness sea.

This method wouldn’t erase her memories or cause harm, but it wasn’t exactly honorable—it was typically used for interrogating prisoners. Still… he desperately wanted to know why she had cried.

Everyone who fell into the Realm of No Thought either succumbed to indulgence or found bliss, even dying with a smile. But she alone had awakened in tears.

Could longing become suffering?

Ji Xun wanted to understand.

The memory coalesced in his palm into a small, snow-white orb.

Just as Ji Xun was about to absorb it, his back suddenly tensed, and his body instinctively shifted into a protective stance in front of Sang Li. His wary gaze fixed on the approaching figure.

Bathed in moonlight, a man stepped forward, floating like a shadow.

Tall and ethereal, he exuded a divine aura. Hovering above Ji Xun, his identical face bore an emotionless, distant gaze.

“Ji Xun, what do you think you’re doing?”