AUOF - 55

“Kill him! Don’t let him escape!”

Futian Hou summoned the Heavenly Net of Poison, roaring loudly. A burst of blood-red light filled the air as the massive net descended, leaving no blade of grass standing wherever it passed.

Dust and sand howled.

The poisonous net blotted out the sky, its toxic droplets raining down like a deluge, soaking every inch of the land.

Screams, roars, struggles, and hopeless wails filled the air.

Futian Hou was clearly driven mad with bloodlust, solely focused on taking Ji Hengyu’s life, completely disregarding the lives of his subordinates.

He stood still amidst the bloody mist.

His silver jade robe remained unstained, his eyes cold and distant: “In this manner, how are you any different from Yen Jinglou?”

“Silence!” Futian Hou erupted in rage. “Do not compare me to that treacherous, dishonorable wretch! I know I am no match for you, but if I am to die, I will drag you down with me!”

The Ghost Killing Array was drawing closer. Futian Hou intended to buy time, planning to perish together with Ji Hengyu.

“Is that so?”

His tone was indifferent. With a flick of his wrist, he suddenly pulled over a nearby soldier.

The demon soldier’s body was lifted into the air, immobilized. Before he could even struggle or cry out, Ji Hengyu drove a sword through him from behind.

The soldier’s eyes were wide open, facing Futian Hou’s direction, his expression frozen in terror at the moment of death.

The poison net arrived.

With a single move of his Flying Flower, Scattering Stars technique, Ji Hengyu shattered the massive net. The broken threads of the net fell like countless tiny blades, slicing through the skin and instantly staining his white robes with blood.

Ji Hengyu remained expressionless, calmly pulling another person toward him.

The sword rose and fell, sealing the throat and ending the life.

Demons from all directions attacked en masse, but Ji Hengyu didn’t flinch. He formed a spiritual seal, suspending dozens of them mid-air.

He quietly observed Futian Hou in the distance.

That tall, thin shadow trembled like a sieve in the swirling sand and fog. His face was unreadable, seemingly wanting to beg for mercy but unable to speak due to his anger. He could only watch helplessly as they floated in the air, his pupils trembling violently with rage.

Ji Hengyu smiled faintly, and the Thousand Swords Technique activated.

Countless streaks of swordlight tore through the sky, drenching it in blood. Limbs and severed arms fell alongside the torrent.

Ji Hengyu remained unmoved.

Futian Hou seemed to have lost his soul, standing motionless in place.

The man who had been spouting fierce threats moments ago now wore an expression of pain and helplessness as the situation unfolded before him.

The stench of blood filled the air.

The demons who had attempted to attack froze in fear, their terrified gazes fixed on Ji Hengyu, who remained otherworldly amidst the carnage.

“No...”

Futian Hou’s voice was torn, rasping as he spat out a single word.

“No… No, no, no, no, no… Ji Hengyu, how dare you!!!”

He broke down in tears.

His bloodshot eyes locked onto Ji Hengyu.

“If none of you can survive, wouldn’t it be better for them to die by my sword rather than by your hand as their master?” Ji Hengyu approached, holding his sword. “Futian Hou, you should thank me. Thank me for sparing you from being the villain.”

“AHHH—!!!”

Futian Hou cried out in anguish, suddenly charging forward with his blade.

The knife cut through the air like splitting bamboo, carrying wrath and demonic energy. Then came the sound of tearing flesh as the blade pierced through his left shoulder and exited through his back.

Blood dripped steadily to the ground.

Futian Hou clutched the long blade, his expression full of disbelief.

This strike was made with the resolve of certain death.

Even if Ji Hengyu’s cultivation was half-destroyed, as long as he wielded the Xiechi Sword, he would remain untouchable at the pinnacle.

Futian Hou never imagined he could truly wound him.

His rage dissolved into confusion, momentarily paralyzing his next move.

Suddenly—

Ji Hengyu pinched the blade between two fingers, slowly pulling it out. As he withdrew the blade, he spoke calmly: “For a thousand years, even the ancient demon gods couldn’t escape the Abyssal Void. That you managed to flee from my grasp fills me with admiration.” He said, “Consider this strike my respect for you.”

Futian Hou’s face twisted in agony, wanting to curse him as a madman or tear him to pieces.

But whether it was cursing or retaliation, Futian Hou had no chance left.

A pair of hands curved like eagle talons plunged deep from behind, crushing his heart directly.

Plop!

As the blade was pulled from Ji Hengyu’s chest, Futian Hou swayed and collapsed to the ground.

Buzz!

Just as his body was about to hit the ground, the tip of the sword embedded itself into the earth, propping up his collapsing form.

Futian Hou knelt on the ground, his hand gripping the sword with great difficulty. His head was held high, refusing to bow.

Through the blood-soaked sandstorm, Futian Hou locked eyes with a face identical to Ji Hengyu’s.

He licked the droplets of blood from his fingertips, gazing down at his prey with superiority.

Futian Hou was first surprised, then enlightened, and finally burst into laughter.

“Ji Hengyu, at this point, I feel a trace of regret,” Futian Hou said. “Had I known, I would’ve stayed in that abyssal prison to see what path you intended to tread.”

“It is a dead end.”

“What kind of dead end?”

“The merging of heaven and earth, the unification of all laws.”

After hearing this, Futian Hou’s pupils gradually dilated. At the moment of his death, he opened his mouth and uttered one final word—

“Madman.”

Plop.

A pair of eyeballs dropped from their sockets, but his head remained held high, refusing to lower.

“The Ghost Killing Array is approaching.”

Ji Wu’s gaze shifted to the distance.

First came the approaching red light, followed by an overwhelming wave of black mist.

Upon closer inspection, the black mist was teeming with countless vengeful spirits and malevolent souls.

The encroaching ghostly energy disrupted his talismans, causing ripples in his consciousness, and his karmic burdens became nearly uncontrollable.

A faint red glow flickered in Ji Hengyu’s eyes.

With an impassive expression, he stared at the ever-nearing Ghost Killing Array, his hair—stirred by the wind and dust—gradually turning white.

Finally!

The Ghost Killing Array swallowed him whole.

From above, the scene was horrifying.

The ghostly mist surged like a tide, and Ji Hengyu stood amidst it, vanishing almost instantly as it consumed him.

Sang Li’s heart tightened, her expression grave. “What will happen to Ji Hengyu after the Ghost Killing Array activates?”

Qi glanced down briefly, his tone equally grim: “Master has always been a body of extreme cold. The vengeful spirits from the Yin Cold Prison will amplify his own karma. From the looks of it, Master clearly intends to let his karma run its course, allowing it to counteract the array.”

Qi temporarily left the two on a cliffside. “As his disciple, I cannot abandon Master’s life just to save myself. Wait here; I’ll retrieve Master.”

With that, Qi spread his wings and dove back into the Ghost Killing Array.

The dense, malevolent energy turned day into night, the howling winds swirling the black mist, carrying with them the ghosts and goblins from the eighteen hells, sweeping across the land.

Sang Li’s scalp tingled, her breathing becoming labored.

Si Tu clutched her burned arm, her complexion far from good.

“That Qi creature had better bring Ji Hengyu out,” Si Tu muttered. “Ji Hengyu carries the blood of Fu Xi. If anything happens to him, these evil spirits will turn into demons upon contact with his blood. None of us will escape.”

Fu Xi’s blood was a treasure coveted by countless demons. With so many vengeful spirits and evil energies present, if they were to come into contact with it, it could very well cause chaos across heaven and earth.

“What about the array’s core?” Sang Li suddenly remembered. “If we destroy the core, can we stop it?”

Si Tu shook her head. “Look at the situation below. Even if we find the core, we won’t be able to break through the encirclement. Moreover, the Ghost Killing Array is an extremely evil formation. With just our spiritual energy, we’d be repelled before we even got close.”

Since ancient times, yin and yang have both countered and supported each other.

When yang prevails over yin, yin is harmonized by yang; when yin prevails over yang, yin seeks to balance yang.

Even if they wanted to shut down the array, they lacked the necessary spiritual energy. Attempting to do so would only result in being overwhelmed by the array’s malevolent energy, a futile and costly effort.

“Miss Sang Li!”

Just then, Qi burst out of the Ghost Killing Array’s encirclement, carrying Ji Hengyu on his back.

Ji Hengyu lay slumped over Qi’s back, his outer robe drenched in blood, his face pale, looking gravely injured.

The two hurried forward to meet them.

The Ghost Killing Array had been targeting Ji Hengyu specifically. Seeing him leave, the myriad ghosts pursued relentlessly, converging once again in their direction.

Qi pushed Ji Hengyu toward them and quickly stripped off his blood-soaked robe, draping it over himself. “We’ll split up. You take Master and go first. Once you’re out of Ghost Ridge, they won’t dare follow.”

The Ghost Killing Array was confined to the ruined city. Beyond the ghost domain lay the protective barrier of Huashan City.

“And what about you?”

“I’ll use this blood-soaked robe to draw their attention and clear a path for you. Hurry, head east!”

With that, Qi lifted into the air.

Si Tu’s head spun. “You’re really not planning to survive this, are you?”

Qi chuckled sheepishly. “Master saved me once. I can’t abandon him now.”

Si Tu rolled her eyes, casually wiping her hand on him before brushing it off on herself in disgust.

Sang Li struggled to support Ji Hengyu, staring dumbfounded at the exchange.

“Enough,” Si Tu said, smearing the blood evenly. “Sang Li, take Ji Hengyu east. You go west, and I’ll head south. We’ll split into three routes. Once Sang Li and Ji Hengyu escape safely, we’ll retreat immediately.”

“Goddess, you...”

Si Tu raised her palm, unleashing her Ryūun Whip to grab a tree branch, her figure gliding away like a willow branch.

This moved Qi deeply, and without another word, he took flight.

With both gone, Sang Li didn’t dare delay, hoisting Ji Hengyu onto a cloud as she flew eastward.

Qi’s diversion tactic proved effective.

The surrounding malevolent spirits scattered momentarily, giving them a brief reprieve.

Leaning against her shoulder, Ji Hengyu opened his eyes.

The crimson in his eyes had yet to fade, and the oppressive aura around him was gradually eroding his rationality.

“Where’s Qi?”

Sang Li lowered her head. “You’re awake?”

“Mm.” Ji Hengyu asked again, “Where’s Qi?”

“Qi and Si Tu used your blood to lure them away, allowing me to escort you out.”

Ji Hengyu closed his eyes, pushing Sang Li away. “Naive.”

Following his gaze, Sang Li turned her head.

The previously scattered malevolent spirits had regrouped, all surging toward the east.

He rubbed his aching temples and waved his hand, a golden path spreading beneath their feet, extending outward to the mountains. “Follow this path and leave. Leave this place to me.”

Sang Li froze. “How do you plan to handle this?”

Ji Hengyu remained silent.

His karmic burdens were already overwhelming. Using poison to counteract poison would allow him to break through the Ghost Killing Array, but at the cost of worsening his karma, enduring more pain, and losing a century of his lifespan.

For Ji Hengyu, it was a negligible loss.

In the blink of an eye, the myriad ghosts surged forth like lightning, appearing before them in an instant.

Several swift flashes of swordlight danced lightly. Ji Hengyu formed a sword array to protect their surroundings. “Go.”

The pathway beneath their feet shimmered faintly with light.

If she turned and left now, she could escape Ghost Ridge safely.

But Sang Li didn’t move.

Still standing behind him, she watched his pale figure, as if it were about to be swallowed by the encroaching darkness.

Sang Li couldn’t help but recall the time in Wanshui Prefecture when he had risked his life to withstand the lightning array, carrying her to safety through the Heavenly Gates.

Sometimes, Sang Li found this man rather peculiar.

He wasn’t entirely good, nor was he completely wicked. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but she certainly didn’t feel the same wariness toward him as she had at the beginning.

Moreover, she had promised Qi and Si Tu. If she were to flee alone now, wouldn’t that make her a treacherous coward?

Sang Li surveyed the surroundings, silently calculating the distance.

From here to the edge of the mountain was only about a kilometer. With her current cultivation, she figured she could endure for a little while longer.

“I’m not leaving,” she said firmly. Slowly, several tails began to emerge from behind her, their soft glow casting a faint white light around them. Her tone was calm yet resolute. “I’m leaving with you.”

Ji Hengyu turned abruptly, his eyes widening in surprise.

Nine enormous, fluffy fox tails came into view, tightly enveloping the two of them. They formed a barrier against the vengeful spirits closing in from all sides, shielding Ji Hengyu from the malevolent ghostly energy.

His gaze flickered with astonishment.

Sang Li stood protectively before him, her glowing tails illuminating her face with an ethereal brightness.

Ji Hengyu stared at her eyes, momentarily losing himself in their radiance.

His usual cold indifference remained etched on his features, his dimmed eyes obscured by the lingering mist. In the instant she spoke those words, Ji Hengyu nearly forgot how to breathe.

The pain from his wound pulsed along his spine, spreading steadily.

But before the physical pain, something else—some indescribable emotion—had already wrapped itself around him.

It struck so swiftly, hitting him squarely in the heart, that even the deep gash from the blade felt like nothing more than a fleeting itch amid the overwhelming tide of feelings.

“Ah!”

Sang Li grimaced, her sharp cry snapping him out of his daze.

She clutched her head as a searing pain erupted within her mind.

It felt as though insects were burrowing inside, disrupting her spiritual awareness and causing her consciousness to churn violently.

—The ghostly energy had invaded her spirit platform.

All color drained from Sang Li’s face. A metallic tang filled her throat as she coughed up a mouthful of black blood.

Clutching her stomach, she murmured faintly, “...Something’s wrong.”

Ji Hengyu’s lips pressed into a thin line. “If your body is injured, I can heal you. But if your spirit fractures, you’ll have to bear it yourself.”

Sang Li was different. Her spirit sea was pristine—how could it withstand the onslaught of countless ghosts?

Ji Hengyu reached out and pulled her close. “Retract your tails.”

Sang Li shook her head desperately. “Master, your karmic burdens are already overwhelming. If the ghostly energy invades further, it may become irreversible.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, but ultimately, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

Abandoning his initial plan, he cradled Sang Li in both arms and cast a protective spiritual barrier over her using his own energy.

With this reinforcement, Sang Li visibly felt some relief.

She manipulated her tails to rise, forming a sphere with the nine tails wrapped tightly together. Encasing the faint protective seal, they slowly pushed forward, inch by inch, breaking through the Ghost Killing Array.

The vengeful spirits howled and roared, tearing at her tails with their fangs.

Blood quickly stained the white fur. Feeling the excruciating pain coursing through her body, Ji Hengyu frowned as he looked down at Sang Li in his arms.

The torment of the soul was far worse than any physical suffering.

Having endured such agony day and night, Ji Hengyu knew all too well what Sang Li was going through.

She couldn’t open her eyes.

In the darkness, she saw an endless abyss. Within it swirled faceless demons, churning mountains and seas, disturbing her peace of mind.

Sang Li clenched her fists tightly, biting her tongue to stifle the pain, forcing herself not to retract her tails.

Ji Hengyu placed his hand near her mouth. “Bite down.”

Sang Li tightly pursed her lips, shaking her head vigorously.

He sighed, then forcibly placed his hand in her mouth.

Sang Li whimpered, sinking her teeth into his wrist with all her strength.

Even as blood streamed from the wound, Ji Hengyu didn’t pull away.

Finally, they escaped Ghost Ridge.

She collapsed completely, limp and unconscious in his arms.

Ji Hengyu carried Sang Li back beneath the Hai Mu Divine Tree.

Her tails gradually shrank, drooping lifelessly onto the ground. Blood soaked all nine tails, remnants of ghostly energy and claw marks still clinging to them—they were battered beyond recognition.

One of the tails flickered in and out of existence, as if on the verge of fading entirely.

For someone of her meager cultivation, managing to bring him out alive was already a feat beyond measure.

Sang Li lay nestled against Ji Hengyu’s chest, her eyelashes drooping like her tails, her beautiful face devoid of consciousness.

Ji Hengyu raised his palm, channeling spiritual energy into her spirit platform.

A steady flow of energy coursed through her four cardinal regions, gradually reviving her vitality.

But it was still too slow.

Closing his eyes, Ji Hengyu summoned his spirit form.

His spirit form was smaller than his true self but still appeared massive compared to Sang Li.

A translucent, golden-hued giant snake floated in midair, its radiant eyes surveying everything with disdain.

Ji Hengyu raised his palm and struck her forehead forcefully, ejecting her spirit form with a single slap.

What emerged was a plump, seemingly dim-witted little fox.

Because its master was unconscious, the spirit form dozed off in a daze.

A flicker of surprise crossed Ji Hengyu’s eyes.

“Ji Wu.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you certain you consumed all of her soul?”

Ji Wu pondered for a moment: “Probably. It seems a wisp of her soul escaped, but that fragment was so weak, it likely won’t last long before fading.”

Strange.

Ji Hengyu frowned inwardly.

If Sang Li’s soul had drifted from a distant world, her spirit form should logically resemble a human.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that.

Ji Hengyu focused on channeling spiritual energy. His own spirit form seemed to regard the little fox with hunger, slithering closer as if preparing to devour it.

“Give it spiritual energy.”

The spirit form: “?”

The spirit glanced at its master, then at the little fox, and finally, lazily coiled itself around the chubby fox, nourishing it with its own energy.

Under the dual infusion of spiritual energy, the previously fading tail reformed, stabilizing its shape.

Sang Li’s breathing gradually steadied, though she still showed no signs of waking, as if lost in a deep sleep.

Ji Hengyu stopped his efforts and leaned back, cradling her gently.

Beneath the Hai Mu Divine Tree, petals fluttered through the air, and the sea lay silent.

The small white fox floating in midair slowly opened its eyes.

The little creature was clearly startled by its own spirit form, its ears flattening backward as it chirped and tried to burrow back into Sang Li’s body.

Ji Hengyu’s spirit form persisted, hissing and circling the fox.

He didn’t allow his spirit form to bully the weaker being. With a wave of his hand, he recalled his spirit and allowed the little fox to return to its master.

Then, lowering his gaze, he noticed their hands were still clasped tightly together.

To be precise, her hand had been gripping his firmly this entire time.

Ji Hengyu’s eyes flickered. He cautiously moved his fingertips, lightly touching her palm, but the moment their skin connected, he froze, afraid to move further.

Exhausted, Ji Hengyu closed his eyes.

In his self-sacrificing life, this was the first time someone had chosen him so resolutely.

[My child, sooner or later, someone in this world will find you and love you.]

[The days are long, but only love can endure.]

Ji Hengyu opened his eyes again. His hand tentatively reached out, slowly grasping hers, as if holding onto something far more significant—a resolve, perhaps.

“Mm...”

The person in his arms stirred.

Ji Hengyu lowered his gaze. “Awake?”

Sang Li’s lashes trembled.

She stared blankly at the mirror-like surface of the sea, her thoughts slow to return. When she finally realized she was in his arms, she abruptly sat up with a start.

Ji Hengyu glanced at her sidelong.

She first patted herself down, then scrutinized Ji Hengyu.

—Good. Both of them were intact.

Sang Li gave her tail another pat, still unable to believe she had managed to control it and escape.

The situation earlier had been dire—it was the only solution she could think of.

Drained, Sang Li leaned back against him. “Thank goodness. I thought we were done for.” She had believed that such a short distance would be manageable, but she had vastly underestimated the power of the ghostly energy. Fortunately, it had all been a false alarm, and both of them were safe.

However—

Sang Li jumped up again. “What about Brother Qi and Si Tu? I should go back...”

“Stay put,” Ji Hengyu said, pulling her wrist and forcing her to sit back down. “Qi sent a message via the Divine Mirror just now—they’re fine.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Sang Li sighed in relief, leaning contentedly against the tree trunk to rest.

Ji Hengyu’s shoulder wound throbbed, and his spiritual energy was nearly depleted. The effort of pulling her back had drained him further. Aside from being able to speak, his body was completely immobile.

He glanced at her, letting out a faint hum. “You could barely save yourself, yet you still had the heart to worry about others.”

Sang Li felt a pang of guilt, her voice weak as she replied, “...Well, we made it out alive.” Thinking back to that harrowing moment, she shuddered, clutching her stomach. “I thought my dantian was going to tear apart.”

That pain was a hundred times worse than mere physical suffering. Sang Li couldn’t fathom how Ji Hengyu had endured it for years. She found him even more maddening—despite everything, he had still chosen to let his karma consume him.

After a long silence, he suddenly asked, “Why didn’t you leave?”

Why hadn’t she left?

Sang Li blinked, scratching her cheek in confusion. “Maybe because I promised Qi and Si Tu that I’d bring you out of Ghost Ridge.”

Ji Hengyu’s eyelashes drooped. “Is that all?”

She thought for a moment, then tilted her head to meet his gaze. “Or maybe... because I didn’t want to leave you there alone.”

It was strange; she couldn’t quite explain why.

In that moment, she had simply wanted to take him with her, to escape together—even though she knew how powerless she was, she had done it anyway.

Ji Hengyu fell silent.

Her face was smudged with dirt, leaving only her clear, bright eyes visible.

“I remember you hated me.”

Sang Li hugged her knees. “I don’t hate you anymore.”

“Why not?” Ji Hengyu was usually a man of few words, but for some reason, today he felt compelled to ask.

Deep inside, he wanted an answer.

Perhaps the answer had always existed; now, he simply wanted to truly understand it.

She turned her head away, smiling faintly. “There doesn’t have to be a reason for everything.” Though she found him oddly talkative today, she still replied, “I just realized you’re not as bad as I thought. You wanted to save me, so naturally, I couldn’t abandon you either. Besides, you’re not hard to get along with. Who knows? Maybe we’ll become friends someday.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes dark like ink, swirling with profound stillness.

A few stray petals drifted down from the Hai Mu Divine Tree, landing on his eyelashes and obscuring the ambiguity in his expression.

Finally, in a detached, icy voice, he said—

“But I don’t want to be your friend.”

Sang Li’s eyes widened in surprise, and after a moment, realization dawned. She smacked her forehead. “Right, you’re the Celestial Lord Tianheng. Of course, we can’t be friends. Then...”

Before she could finish, he interrupted her again—

“I don’t want to be your Celestial Lord Tianheng either.”

Huh????

She gazed up at him, dumbfounded.

Ji Hengyu was also looking at her, his expression as calm as the empty sea. Yet, in those pitch-black eyes, turbulent undercurrents churned, fiercer than any ocean wave.