Chapter 104: Nothing More Than This

The faint scent of damp earth reached his nostrils, accompanied by a subtle chill brushing against his cheek. An uncontrollable itch spread across his body, prickling and tingling relentlessly.

He wrinkled his nose and struggled to open his slightly weary eyes. Though tired, they remained bright and clear—the eyes of a youth.

Supporting himself with his hands on the ground, he shook his head vigorously, then laboriously rose to his feet. His joints cracked and popped, as if a body long unused was now stirring back to life.

It felt as though he had just emerged from a long, lingering dream—one that still seemed unfinished within its depths. After a brief daze, he steadied his mind and began to survey his surroundings.

“Ugh… this is exhausting,” he muttered, exhaling a deep breath, realizing he was still standing in an open space.

Though spacious, this clearing was much smaller than the vast expanse he had encountered upon first entering the legacy realm. Looking up, no blue sky or white clouds were visible, confirming that he remained deep within the mountain, the trial far from over.

To him, this was a blessing. It meant the deadly formation outside had yet to end. As long as he secured the inheritor’s position, there was still hope to turn things around.

All around him flickered freshly lit torches; the flames burned bright and new. Ahead lay but a single passage, from which faint voices whispered—signs that others had long arrived here before him.

He first examined himself carefully, preparing to face whatever unexpected trials might come next. Fortunately, though the previous realm had been an illusion, the progress he had made there was real.

His cultivation and mental strength had both improved significantly. Normally, to reach the fifth stage of Qi Refinement, he would have needed countless pills or to forge numerous furnaces—yet here he was, having achieved this naturally.

Perhaps this was the burden of ‘genius’...

Exceptional individuals always bore heavier loads, he told himself repeatedly.

He moved forward slowly, passing through the narrow, short passage. Compared to the long tunnel before entering Peach Blossom Village, this one was minuscule. Whether he would falter was no longer his concern.

Drawn by a distant glow, he pressed on. The voices grew clearer, and he could discern more than just two or three people—likely close to ten. A flicker of caution sparked within him.

Emerging from the passage, he found himself before a vast precipice. Looking up, the mountain summit towered dozens of miles above, flanked on both sides by ash-gray rock. Though the space around him was limited, the distance to the peak was surprisingly ample. Below the cliff lay a pitch-black abyss, concealing all from sight.

“Brother,” a familiar voice called from beside him.

“Little brother?” he replied in surprise, turning to see Yuyun Fan along with seven others, each seated in meditation at the edges. They seemed strangers to him.

Before the two could exchange greetings, a deep, resonant voice interrupted.

“All are present. The trial shall continue.”

“What’s that?” he asked, bewildered, scanning his surroundings.

“That’s the lingering will of Baili Mo,” Yuyun Fan explained, turning toward him. “This should be the second stage of the trial. The first was likely a formation, but each person faced different ones.”

“I’m the third to arrive here. There are two people ahead you should watch out for.”

“Baili Mo? Lingering will? He’s not dead?” Yu Dao Yi’s gaze sharpened, locking onto Yuyun Fan for a definitive answer.

“That’s not important. What matters now is…” Yuyun Fan frowned, trying to explain, confused by his brother’s sudden intensity.

“No, it matters deeply. Just tell me if Baili Mo is still here.”

Yu Dao Yi’s breathing grew heavy, his wide eyes reddening as he struggled to suppress his emotions.

“Yes. Baili Mo is dead. But at the moment of death, he fused a part of his lingering will into this legacy realm to ensure the trial’s proper activation. Strictly speaking, a fragment of him still lives in a special form.”

Though Yuyun Fan didn’t understand what had transpired, he knew his usually jovial brother was desperately restraining a burning anger.

In an instant, Yu Dao Yi’s body radiated fierce crimson light, impossible to contain.

Upon closer inspection, his once delicate features had sharpened, becoming slightly otherworldly—less handsome, more eerie. The change was subtle, noticeable only to those close.

“Good, very good. That beast is still alive. The things they failed to accomplish, I will do,” he muttered fiercely.

“The suffering they endured, the torment of being trapped outside the cycle of reincarnation for ten thousand years—I will settle this debt for them.”

“As long as he lives, everything becomes much easier.”

Yu Dao Yi stared forward, whispering to himself. After a moment, the tips of his flowing hair tinged with crimson. Yet the color did not spread fully, suggesting his current power was still too weak to transform him completely, unlike the peak ancient demon he had become in the illusionary realm.

“Brother,” Yuyun Fan stepped back, frowning at the unfamiliar figure before him. It was clear that his brother had faced grave trials in the illusion.

The loud disturbance drew the attention of the seven others nearby, their gazes tinged with surprise. Though Yu Dao Yi’s cultivation was only at the fifth stage of Qi Refinement, his aura now rivaled that of someone at the ninth stage—not quite equal, but strikingly close.

“I never imagined I could hate someone so fiercely. Even tearing him to pieces wouldn’t quell this hatred. But thankfully, he’s still alive—if only as a lingering will. That’s enough. Some debts can never be repaid by others, but I am still here. I will seek justice!”

Yu Dao Yi grinned wildly as the crimson aura surged uncontrollably around him.

He had witnessed too many tragedies in that world—too much sorrow and scenes like hell on earth he could never forget.

Yuyun Fan had never seen his brother like this: usually lighthearted, playful, laughing even when battered and bruised.

Now, though still smiling, his grin could not conceal rage, resentment, and a hint of self-reproach for his own weakness.

“Whatever you intend to do, go boldly. I’ve got your back,” Yuyun Fan said coolly. Even if the mountain were to collapse, he would remain calm, though a trace of genuine concern flickered in his eyes.

He was never good with words, preferring to stand silently beside his brother. After all, he was family—even if that brother was unpredictable.

“Ah, so you are different from the others. Much more interesting,” the deep voice remarked with amusement.

“Others passed through various formations to arrive here, but you’re unique. You dismantled one and broke another.”

“Remember, before entering the formation you were only a fourth-stage Qi Refinement cultivator. To accomplish this with such a level is remarkable.”

“Truly, I am honored by your praise. In return, I’ll make sure you suffer greatly on your journey. If I may, I’d like to say one thing—thank you, sir!”

Yu Dao Yi sneered crudely, flashing a defiant gesture. Even if the other didn’t understand, it was better than bottling up his furious rage.

He was weak. He might lose. Such actions might only hasten his targeting and peril.

But some things could never be faced with calm. That was why humanity, at its core, was an emotional creature—numbness, pain, regret. As these feelings spread, one might grow rational, cold even, but then one would become a stranger to oneself.

Even if only once, while still true to himself, he would act recklessly! Only by doing so could he know the cost, and only then could he tell himself he would never regret it.

“That formation gave me trouble for so long. The ancient dying tree was bad enough, but the blood-born vengeful spirit was truly thorny. Consider this my way of solving a problem for you.”

“No trouble. When the time comes, I’ll send you to reunite with him. Someone said that vengeful spirit tastes terrible. I think your flavor will be much better.”

“I sense many secrets within you, some even I can’t unravel. But that’s what makes it fun, isn’t it? I look forward to the day we meet.”

The voice ignored Yu Dao Yi’s threats entirely, as if they were meaningless.

“Baili Mo! I just want to ask—why? She saved you, loved you! How could you harm her? Did the Southern Mysterious Sect only produce one monster?”

Yu Dao Yi shouted bitterly, roaring with frustration.

“I simply made a choice opposite to yours. Nothing more,” the voice replied coldly after a long silence, reacting to the mention of the Southern Mysterious Sect.

“Yes, nothing more.”