Chapter 150: You and I, You and Him, Inseparably Bound

Before Xia Chuan could fully comprehend the meaning behind Baili Mo’s words, an even thicker and more colossal pillar of blackness surged violently into the heavens from right behind him. The canyon split apart as this towering black column violently sheared through the Wangchuan Cliff. Viewed from afar, the dragon-like canyon was cleaved cleanly into two separate segments by this torrential dark pillar.

"Is this the thing that turned me into what I am now?" Baili Mo looked up at the dense, towering column of blackness. For some reason, he felt not a shred of astonishment in the face of such a supernatural spectacle, as if he had known of its existence all along.

"Well, no matter. Let us consider this the opening ceremony of the feast."

"Xia Chuan, the game is over," Baili Mo said coldly. It was the absolute, fundamental coldness of a void where humanity had ceased to exist.

Droplets of blood fell like a torrential downpour, and the heavy, sickening stench of gore spread thickly through the air, turning one's stomach. Xia Chuan stared blankly upwards, his gaze fixed on the scene above.

Those few remaining cultivators who had followed him, still barely clinging to life, were now riddled with thousands of holes, their bodies drenched in blood. Streaks of black shadows, akin to razor-sharp sabers, continuously flashed back and forth through their bodies.

This was Baili Mo’s doing. It was a supreme humiliation directed at Great Xia, at Xia Chuan, and at those who delusionally fancied themselves saviors.

They had risked their very lives to defend a Great Xia that demanded the sacrifice of a single woman to achieve its filthy ends. Look—how utterly laughable it all was.

Great Xia was worth less than dirt!

They were treated like mere cattle and sheep, hoisted aloft by giant black hands and butchered by black blades, cold and utterly hopeless. Every trace of warmth had vanished from their bodies; apart from Xia Chuan, the entire expeditionary force of Great Xia was completely wiped out.

"Bastard! You bastard! Baili Mo, you beast!" Xia Chuan touched the blood splattered across his face, which had been warm just a fraction of a second before, and plunged into madness. He fell to his knees, clutching frantically at his hair. The once-rugged, stalwart man was now weeping bitterly, the agony in his heart findable only through this crude outlet of self-torment.

Baili Mo walked slowly to Xia Chuan's side, his still-stiff right hand gently patting the kneeling man's shoulder. Xia Chuan was sobbing with a grief so heart-rending it seemed to tear his soul apart. To him, those men represented decades of brotherhood forged through countless campaigns of life and death. They had even sworn an oath that whoever among them fell, the survivors would carry their ashes back to the soil of Great Xia.

Yet now, they were all dead. Everyone except himself was gone! How was he supposed to bring them back home? How could he ever face himself again?!

A chaotic storm of tangled, maddening, and excruciating thoughts churned within Xia Chuan's mind. His distorted face streamed with ceaseless tears.

"Ah, what a wondrously melodious sound."

"Ah, what a magnificent rain of blood."

"Ah, what a deeply intoxicating spectacle."

"Xia Chuan, do you hate me?"

Baili Mo stood before Xia Chuan, arms flung wide, reveling in, infatuated with, and utterly intoxicated by an unprecedented thrill. The heavy scent of blood in the air only heightened his excitement, driving him further and further away from the man he used to be.

"Ah! Ah! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!" Xia Chuan hugged his head, his eyes bulging as he curled his body into a tight, desperate ball. He roared, though whether the roar was directed outward or inward, he no longer knew.

Was it hatred for Baili Mo’s heinous deeds, or rage at his own utter powerlessness?

"Xia Chuan, in your next life, be sure to live simply as an ordinary mortal."

"Birth, old age, sickness, and death—that is what you were meant for. The place you linger in now is not suited for you." Baili Mo lowered his head, murmuring softly beside Xia Chuan's ear—repeating the very words Xia Chuan had once said to him.

Now, he was returning them in full.

If you have never experienced the despair of another, what qualification do you have to trample upon their hopes?

Baili Mo slowly rose to his feet, paying no further heed to the weeping man beside him, and walked step by step toward the colossal pillar of black qi, which was infinitely denser than the dark energy enveloping his own body.

The blackness was so profound it felt as though a single glance would draw one’s soul directly into a bottomless vortex.

"Lianhua, I am here. I’ve come to take you home." Unlike the savage grin he had worn moments before, the smile tugging at the corners of his lips still retained a hint of stiffness, yet it was so gentle and refined—utterly incongruous with his current terrifying appearance.

Before him, suspended in the very heart of the giant black pillar, a slender figure lay quietly on the ground as if fast asleep. Her brows, however, were tightly furrowed, undoubtedly tormented by an endless succession of nightmares.

Baili Mo stepped forward, maintaining a firm and resolute pace toward the person he loved, advancing without a moment’s hesitation even though the path ahead was fraught with the unknown.

Gradually, the blinding whiteness brought by the freezing wind and snow grew increasingly dim in Baili Mo’s vision. His steps involuntarily slowed down, and his eyes—still flecked with lingering ice crystals—narrowed slightly, until darkness descended upon him once more.

This time, he felt no chill, for he possessed no warmth of his own. This time, he felt no fear of the dark, for he himself belonged to the abyss.

Yet his appearance had reverted to its initial bloodied and mutilated state, retaining not a single trace of human form. Standing before him was another version of himself—a handsome Baili Mo clad in traditional Daoist robes, looking precisely as he had in the past.

"What? Even you intend to bar my path?" the mutilated Baili Mo demanded in a cold voice.

"Hey, hey, don't be so cold. No matter what, I did help you, didn't I?" the Daoist-robed Baili Mo said with an expression of hurt innocence.

"Who on earth are you?" he pressed further.

"That question is utterly meaningless, Baili Mo. Didn't I tell you already? I am you," the Daoist-robed Baili Mo replied, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"If you truly were me, you wouldn't be standing here trying to stop me."

"Baili Mo, even after turning into this state, your brain hasn't completely rotted away yet," the Daoist-robed Baili Mo remarked, a look of mild mockery surfacing on his face.

"Step aside, or die!" Lacking any further patience, the mutilated Baili Mo surged with swirling black qi as he issued a menacing threat.

"Everything you possess right now was bestowed upon you by me. And now you turn around to deal with me? Isn't that laughable?"

"Baili Mo, do you know what this is?" In the enveloping darkness, he gently brushed his hand through the ambient black qi that filled the space.

"This is my power—the power I granted you. And the black pillar you faced earlier? That is me."

"Are you the entity from inside that box?" Baili Mo suddenly recalled the box containing the demonic whispers that Jinxuanzi had spoken of earlier.

"Putting it that way isn't entirely wrong, but I would much prefer it if you answered that you are me," the Daoist-robed Baili Mo nodded, blending a sense of tacit approval with a hint of regret.

"I have nothing to do with you!" Gone was the murky lethargy of the previous darkness; now preternaturally clear-headed, Baili Mo felt an inexpressible surge of revulsion toward the figure before him.

"Then why did we meet here?" the Daoist-robed Baili Mo countered.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Don't be in such a rush to sever the ties between us. We are inextricably bound; at least for now, we are one, aren't we?"

"What on earth are you trying to say!" Baili Mo roared, his blood-soaked flesh trembling violently.

"Baili Mo, all the answers you seek lie within that box. Go and open it. I will make you understand everything, and you shall obtain the ultimate truth."

Baili Mo let out a derisive scoff. "You expect me to use my own hands to set you free? Do you take me for a fool?"

"In the past, you certainly wouldn't have. But now, I believe you will eventually open that box. And it is something only you can open."

"Baili Mo, I will wait for the day you open me. Until then, make good use of the power I have lent you. We shall meet again."

"Next time, I hope you can be a little friendlier toward me. Remember: you and I..."

"Are inseparably, inextricably one."

The Daoist-robed Baili Mo paid no mind to the other's disdainful tone, maintaining a serene smile throughout. He was in no rush; the wheel of fate had already begun to turn, and since their paths had crossed, the day of his true emergence was not far off. He would await that day with boundless anticipation—anticipating the moment Baili Mo finally learned the truth. With that, his figure slowly dissolved and faded away.

The darkness receded. When Baili Mo snapped back to his senses, he found himself standing right beside the colossal pillar of black qi. Compared to it, the trace of dark energy lingering on his own body was utterly negligible—a mere drop in the bucket. Emanating from that pillar was a suffocating aura of chilling cold and vicious brutality, heavy enough to make one feel as though an invisible hand were choking off their breath.

In the very center of the pillar formed by churning black qi lay Lu Qinglian, fast asleep. The dark energy seemed to actively part around her, sparing her from the slightest harm, while wisps of an even deeper, darker qi continuously seeped out from the cuff of her sleeve to merge into the main column.

Baili Mo did not hesitate to thrust his hand directly into the heart of the black pillar. This was his promise: no matter what lay ahead, as long as you were there, he would forge straight forward without a single glance back.

A profound sense of peace washed over him, bringing an overwhelming tranquility akin to returning to one's warmest home—so comfortable and serene that Baili Mo began to grow nostalgic for the feeling. He couldn't quite define what kind of sensation it was, yet he seemed to have glimpsed it in others before—a sensation he had envied since childhood. It was love; entering this black pillar felt precisely like plunging back into a mother's embrace.

Tears welled up in Baili Mo's eyes. For a long time, he had believed himself dead, every single bodily function having ceased entirely. But now, he was utterly certain that he was alive. He was weeping, sobbing convulsively. His heart ached so fiercely it felt as though it were being wrenched apart, and the tears rolling down his face fell and mingled with the tiny ice crystals caught in his eyes.

Yet his tears were icy cold.

"Why? Why is entering this place so agonizing? Why do I yearn so desperately for this feeling?"

"What on earth is this truth you speak of? What am I supposed to understand? Why am I crying like this, and who on earth am I?"

Baili Mo dropped heavily to his knees with a dull thud. Clutching his chest, he bowed his head and wept continuously, just like a child allowed to surrender entirely to grief and spoiled by the safety of a mother's arms, needing no reason at all.

Forcing down the inexplicable wave of sorrow rising within him, he pressed forward into the depths of the black pillar. There, someone was still waiting for him.

"I’m late. I'm sorry," Baili Mo whispered, gently stroking Lu Qinglian's face as profound guilt washed over him.

As he smoothed away her furrowed brows, Lu Qinglian's eyelids twitched. Baili Mo instinctively touched his own face, suddenly feeling clumsy and at a loss for what to do.

A pair of bright, crystal-clear eyes fluttered open. Lu Qinglian sat up, looking around in bewilderment, whereupon a black box encrusted with frost slipped from her sleeve and fell to the ground.

Lu Qinglian rubbed her elbow—it felt chilled but uninjured. Her eyes swept blankly over the surrounding sea of black qi until they landed upon his back, and a sudden spark of hope ignited within her gaze.

"Brother Mo?" Lu Qinglian called out softly. His back was covered in scars, intertwined with wisps of black qi. She could never mistake them—those were wounds he had suffered entirely for her sake.

He and she were, indeed, inseparably, inextricably one.