A Guide to Self-Rescue in the Cultivation World - Chapter 7

These were five agonizing days.

Almost every day, Third Senior Brother would bring her two bowls of extremely bitter medicinal soup, forcing her to drink them. Although she could barely tolerate the bitterness, the thought of Eldest Senior Brother’s pale face made her frown and quickly gulp the medicine down. And with every bowl, that searing, bone-deep pain would follow.

On one occasion, the pain became so overwhelming that she couldn’t hold on any longer. Black mist swam before her eyes, and cold sweat soaked her thin shirt; she had actually passed out from the agony.

The pain in her body felt like an ungraspable chaos. She sensed herself suspended beyond heaven and earth, arriving in the boundless expanse of creation itself.

She was no longer Zhou Suyao.

She felt confined within a narrow, scorching body.

All she could see was an atmosphere swirling with immortal qi. Light, flowing silks drifted on a scented breeze. Through the gaps in the silk, she saw a window view of an otherworldly setting, hundreds of times more refined and beautiful than the humble shack on the Path of Ascension.

She turned her head and saw a bronze mirror placed on a dressing table beside the bed. Out of curiosity, she picked up the mirror to examine it closely, only to see a face of breathtaking beauty reflected.

But the more she looked, the more familiar this face became.

From the curve of the brows to the corner of the eyes, and that beautiful, yet slightly melancholic, gaze, everything felt strangely intimate.

Suddenly, her brain was struck by a sharp pain. In a blur, Zhou Suyao found that her own soul seemed to have detached from this body, floating gently in mid-air.

She watched the woman staring at the bronze mirror in her hand. Her eyes suddenly sharpened. She raised a hand, gently stroking her beautiful, delicate face in the reflection, and murmured:

“Father, Mother, and Master praised Qinggui today. He said Qinggui has a talent for cultivation. If I truly break into the Spiritual Path, then the kin of the Demon Realm will also be accepted by the Spiritual Path in the future.”

Hearing this, Zhou Suyao frowned. She had never heard from her Master or any of her Senior Brothers about the Demon Realm’s ability to cultivate. She thought the Demon Realm, after being driven to the shores of the River Styx, had long lost the right to practice the Dao.

Yet, listening to this woman, it seemed the Demon Realm once yearned for the Dao. So why did the Demon Realm ultimately fail to enter the Spiritual Path?

She remembered her Master mentioning during a history lesson that demons, especially female demons, were the most naturally gifted, often born with an Innate Spiritual Body—a talent rarely found in the Human Realm, possessed only by a handful, such as the second young master of the Qi family.

So, logically, this scene shouldn’t be happening…?

Before she could connect the pieces, the woman named Qinggui put down the mirror. A cold voice came from outside the door, devoid of emotion: “The Master summons you.”

She watched the woman’s body tighten imperceptibly for a moment. She quickly lowered her gaze and quietly responded, “Yes.”

The woman took a deep breath and walked out. Outside, the waiting disciple at the door was expressionless, looking down at her as if she were not a fellow disciple but an object ready to be traded. Suyao observed this illogical strangeness, and the unease in her heart grew stronger.

She floated through the winding corridors. Outside the walkways were all manner of exotic flowers and plants, shrouded in immortal qi. But Suyao found the lavish beauty unreal, everywhere betraying an inhuman coldness, a suffocating sense of rigid hierarchy and repression.

“Junior Sister Qinggui,” a gentle voice came from a corner of the corridor. She looked up and saw a handsome man in a green robe. “Master is waiting for you in the Hall of Pure Radiance. Don’t keep him waiting.”

Noticing Qinggui’s slightly pale face, he added softly, “Master has recently made great progress in comprehending the ‘Same Life, Shared Longevity’ technique. Your unique physique can aid Master in his cultivation. Treasure this opportunity.”

“I understand,” the woman said. “Thank you for the advice, Senior Brother Yangming.”

He is Xuan Yangming!

But now, in Zhou Suyao’s sight, the concern in Xuan Yangming’s eyes seemed so thin. His comment, “Your unique physique can aid Master in his cultivation,” sent a chill through Suyao’s heart, yet Qinggui merely gave a quiet “I understand” and continued forward.

Behind them, unnoticed by either, Xuan Yangming suddenly stopped. He turned to look at the retreating Qinggui, a slight furrow in his brow, as if he wanted to say something more, but it ultimately dissolved into a subtle sigh.

Suyao’s soul floated with Qinggui, her anxiety intensifying. This place was too beautiful, hundreds of times more magnificent than the Xingcong Sect she had seen in reality. Yet, this splendor carried an artificial, detached polish. The strange atmosphere made her feel suffocated by the pressure.

Before long, the Hall of Pure Radiance appeared before them.

The grand palace gate was slightly ajar, the interior dimly lit, like a giant maw open to devour all who entered.

Just before they stepped into the gate.

“Ning Qinggui!”

A low roar, strained with immense anger and desperation, exploded behind her. The next moment, her wrist was seized tightly. The grip was so strong it felt like it would shatter her bones.

The man had sharp brows and starry eyes, an intimidating presence. To Zhou Suyao, he was astonishingly familiar.

He glared fiercely at Ning Qinggui’s pale, frightened face, his voice hoarse and furious:

“You can’t go in! Do you hear me! You absolutely cannot go in!”

“Fou… Fourth Junior Brother?” Ning Qinggui was startled by his sudden action. The stinging pain in her wrist made her instinctively resist, but seeing that the person before her was the Master’s youngest personal disciple, she forcibly suppressed the agitated demonic qi within her, countering, “What are you doing here? Hurry back. Master is waiting for me.”

“Waiting for you? He’s waiting for you to die!” The man’s eyes were bloodshot, but he kept his voice low. “Did that bastard Dao Moxing tell you something about ‘Same Life, Shared Longevity’? That’s utter rubbish! Didn’t you ever wonder why he needs you for that? You are nothing more than an ingredient he needs to refine eternal life! Forget helping him cultivate or some grand destiny—he just wants to turn us into Flesh Cauldrons to achieve his own path of eternal, demonic longevity!”

“Silence! Fourth Junior Brother, don’t slander Master!”

“Slander?” The man gave an incredulous snort. “Am I slandering him? Don’t you know? The secret art of the Demon Race—when the Five Elements of Heaven and Earth are unified in a Cauldron, eternal life is achieved.”

Before he could finish, a commanding male voice came from inside the Hall of Pure Radiance:

“Qinggui, hurry and enter.”

Hearing the voice, both people outside paled.

Ning Qinggui turned, meeting the man’s gaze. The man frowned, tightening his grip on her wrist.

In the strange tension, she offered a faint smile. Looking down at the hand clamped on her wrist, she said:

“I know what I’m doing, Zhou Xuqing. Let go.”

Her voice was soft, like a feather landing on ice, but it carried an undeniable finality. She looked up, her beautiful eyes clearly reflecting Zhou Xuqing’s astonished, bewildered, and disbelieving face.

“You know? You actually knew? Then why are you helping him… helping him commit such madness?”

Hearing this, Ning Qinggui smiled bitterly, a look of fatalistic compassion on her face:

“Because… Master promised me that if I help him succeed, when he ascends to the Spiritual Path, he will use the power of the sect to open a pathway for the Demon Realm to link to the Dao… My kin will no longer suffer the eternal, lightless torment of the River Styx.”

She averted her gaze, looking up at the shadowy palace gate as if gazing at that distant, faint hope. Then, using her internal power, she easily broke free of Zhou Xuqing’s grip.

Under Zhou Xuqing’s frantic gaze, she was swallowed by the dark palace gate.

Meanwhile, Zhou Suyao, floating in the void, noticed another figure.

He wasn’t entirely hidden, just quietly standing there by the willow tree at the edge of the lake.

His figure was tall and lean, dressed in a simple, moon-white robe that nearly blended with the surrounding immortal mist. He stood with his back to the palace gate, seemingly just admiring the willows brushing the lake’s surface, completely oblivious to the intense confrontation on the corridor behind him.

However, the moment Ning Qinggui shook off Zhou Xuqing’s hand, the figure by the lake slowly moved.

His movements held an ineffable rhythm, as if time itself slowed around him. As he turned, all of Zhou Suyao’s senses were irresistibly drawn to his face.

The first thing she saw was his eyes.

Those golden eyes, like those of a sacred tree.

They were profoundly deep, as if having consumed all the cosmic chaos, so deep that no emotion could be discerned, leaving only the cold divinity of one who sees through all things.

Next, it was the face itself.

Beautiful enough to make one forget to breathe, handsome beyond mortal creation, like jade fallen from the heavens. This face… this face.

Zhou Suyao’s soul felt as if it had been struck by a bolt of lightning from the Nine Heavens. An unspeakable, deep-seated shock from the core of her spirit nearly made her forget how to breathe.

This face…

Although the person before her carried the chilling divinity of early spring, completely different from her gentle, warm Eldest Senior Brother, she recognized him instantly:

This person was her god-like Eldest Senior Brother.

Zhou Shanyuan.

There could be no mistake.

Just as Zhou Suyao was reeling in shock, about to blurt out “Eldest Senior Brother,” an anomaly suddenly occurred at the entrance of the Hall of Pure Radiance!

“No…!!”

Having watched Ning Qinggui’s figure be utterly consumed by the darkness within the hall, Zhou Xuqing’s pent-up grief, despair, and impotent fury finally erupted like a volcano accumulating for ten thousand years.

A non-human, dying beast-like roar tore from his throat, ripping through the frozen air, full of towering hatred and heartbreaking agony.

He wanted to fight back.

“Hmph, courting death.”

Accompanied by that cold, merciless whisper, an indescribably terrifying pressure surged out from the slightly ajar palace gate like a tangible flood.

It wasn’t a simple spiritual power impact, but a crushing force on a more fundamental, more tyrannical level of natural law. The air became heavy and suffocating. All light seemed instantly devoured as the gloom inside the hall rapidly expanded, its bone-chilling coldness eroding everything around it.

Zhou Suyao’s soul bore the brunt of it. Even though she was not a physical entity, the force felt like countless icy steel needles piercing her illusory “body,” brutally stabbing into the depths of her soul.

Pain.

The pain was overwhelming.

She couldn’t even think “Who am I,” only the pure, immediate fear of annihilation remained. Her soul trembled violently, emitting a silent wail.

Just as Zhou Suyao’s soul was about to be crushed by this terrifying pressure, and her consciousness was about to completely sink into the boundless darkness—

Buzz—

An extremely subtle, yet incredibly clear, twang of a string suddenly sounded in her ear. The sound seemed to come from the deepest part of her soul, yet also from the distant reality.

“Urgh—”

She suddenly opened her eyes.

The familiar scene was before her: the shabby room, the uncomfortable, hard board bed, and the rustling bamboo outside the window. But her thin shirt was soaked with cold sweat.

Countless images flashed through her mind: Ning Qinggui’s final resolve, Zhou Xuqing’s roar, and those golden eyes of a familiar face.

These images made her head pound, momentarily unable to distinguish illusion from reality.

She couldn’t understand. What did any of this have to do with her?!

Powerlessness, a profound sense of inability, and utter helplessness in the face of everything.

Instinctively, and with the daze of one who has narrowly escaped death, she turned her stiff neck toward the room’s only exit—the simple wooden door.

The door was slightly ajar, leaving a narrow gap.

She saw a figure standing quietly there.

He wore a simple, plain blue cloth robe, his frame looking thin, as if a gust of wind could blow him over. The deep moonlight outlined his slender back, and that figure stood as quiet as a watercolor painting, carrying a detached aloofness and an unshakeable weariness.

Although it was only a back view, and the figure was far less divinely imposing than the man by the lake in the illusion…

The moment Zhou Suyao clearly saw that back, her heart was fiercely clenched by an invisible hand.

Eldest Senior Brother…!

She abruptly sat up in bed. The slight pain from her abdomen made her instinctively frown, but when she looked up again, the frail figure outside the door was gone.