Chapter 152: My Name is Moyuan

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“Am I already considered dead?” Baili Mo lowered his head and asked softly.

“You exist between life and death, halfway in the underworld, halfway in the living realm. Under my power, you will not die.”

“But I can’t truly be called alive either, can I?”

The robed Baili Mo remained silent.

“How much longer can I live?”

“I don’t know. In all my years, you’re the only one who accepted my power without breaking down.”

“Why me?”

“Haven’t I told you? To know the answer, open that box. You will understand everything. Baili Mo, you are special.”

“Hey, how about you take my place?”

A long silence followed. In the darkness, nothing could be seen or heard.

“Are you ready? You may find it hard to wake again,” the robed Baili Mo whispered.

“My last wish is to save her. Aren’t you the box that can fulfill others’ wishes?”

“Just this little request, this tiny demand—can you make it happen?”

Baili Mo bowed his head, his tone pleading.

“If this is a bargain, I will grant your wish,” he said expressionlessly.

“Then let it be a bargain.”

“Sleep well. I will help you finish the rest.”

“By the way, remember my name. I am Mo Yuan.” A faint laugh.

In the darkness, faint chewing sounds echoed, and beyond that, complete silence.

The sound of devouring everything.

Outside, the cold wind carried snow, vast and desolate.

“It’s time to come with me, Princess of Great Xia!” Xia Chuan’s eyes were bloodshot, his oppressive aura pressing down on Lu Qinglian so heavily she could barely speak.

“I—I want to wait! Wait for him to return!” Lu Qinglian replied with difficulty.

“He’s not coming back. Even if he does, I’ll kill him again!”

“Then I’ll go with him!” Lu Qinglian shouted, striding toward the pile of rubble.

“You filthy woman! You’re nothing but a commodity! What right do you have to defy me!” Xia Chuan slapped Lu Qinglian, and half her face swelled red.

“Hey, how does it feel to hit a woman?” Baili Mo’s voice, yet not quite his own, whispered inside Xia Chuan’s mind—not at his ear, but within his skull.

Like a demon from hell, descending into the cold, gloomy netherworld, shrouded in shadows of the night, an oppressive dread that chills to the bone, a fear that death follows any movement.

The dark world was thick with thorns, the Yellow Springs River bloomed with red spider lilies, countless vengeful spirits wailed. My soul shuddered in madness. What of my voice? Who can hear it now?

Poured into deaf ears, lips sewn shut with needle and thread, eyes clenched shut to powder, hands raised though broken, sucking on halted scarlet blood, dancing a hellish dance without legs.

How despairing, yet how exquisitely beautiful.

I dance. I cheer for everyone in this world. I praise this world. I dance alone.

In this pure, profound, flawless darkness.

If eyes existed, I would hold my breath and watch.

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If ears existed, I would obey without question.

If a nose existed, I would taste the bitter cold.

If a mouth existed, I would savor it like sweet nectar.

If arms existed, I would embrace.

If feet existed, I would bear burdens and move forward.

If you existed, I would hold life and death in my hands.

Go see, go listen, go feel my existence.

Go embrace, go kiss, go seek my soul.

In that void of darkness, I am there—I come from hell.

Search, lost souls yet to find their redemption.

Weep, souls who realize the outside world is still hell.

Hell draws near; my fragile heart pounds and screams.

“I have walked alive out of that hell!”

Hell draws near; my chaotic consciousness roars and shatters.

“I return, carrying fear!”

Hell draws near; my broken body laughs madly inside its skull.

“I have closed my eyes and sunk in this world!”

Hell draws near; my abyssal name whispers in worship and submission.

“My name is Mo Yuan.”

A thunderous roar shattered the rubble pressing on Baili Mo’s body, stones flew wildly through the air, mingling with wind and snow. Not far off, a towering black pillar of swirling dark energy expanded swiftly, engulfing Xia Chuan within mere breaths, and it showed no sign of stopping. From afar, the colossal black column stretched on—ten miles, a hundred miles, a thousand miles—until it vanished beyond perception.

Inside the pillar, endless black mist swirled. The white landscape, once obscured by heavy snow, had vanished completely. Here, there was only black.

Each strand of the black mist carried immense oppressive force, starkly different from the faint dark aura Baili Mo once possessed. Such overwhelming power Xia Chuan had never witnessed.

Amidst the chaotic black currents, Baili Mo stepped forward steadily. The smile on his face was alien to both Xia Chuan and Lu Qinglian, as if he were a different man altogether.

That was the gaze of a true emperor looking down on all beings, a scornful laugh defying heaven and earth.

Baili Mo wore a long black robe woven from the dark mist, a black ring binding his half-white hair. His deep black eyes showed no whites, exuding the faint aura of darkness.

The flesh and blood that Xia Chuan’s massive sword had once cleaved away now seemed to have regrown, but unlike the blackened aura, his skin was pale—so pale it lacked any trace of color.

Surrounded by the ceaseless black mist, Baili Mo returned with a heavy aura of death.

“Who are you?!” Xia Chuan gasped, suffocated by the overwhelming pressure. The man before him could not be Baili Mo.

“What kind of person? That’s a good question. How many still remember my name in this world?” Mo Yuan sneered, clearly pleased.

In his right hand, Mo Yuan held a black box. Elegant but frosted over with ice, faint and intricate patterns adorned its surface.

“The Great Xia Forbidden Box! Why is that box in your hand!” Xia Chuan trembled, as if realizing something, but forced himself to speak coldly.

“You seem to have guessed?” Mo Yuan waved the box. “Don’t worry, I haven’t fully emerged yet. I’m just borrowing this guy’s body to get some fresh air.”

“If this box were so easy to open, I wouldn’t have been trapped for tens of millions of years. And those who have seen me probably have to live tens of millions of years too.”

“How could you escape from the box? Impossible!” Xia Chuan shook his head fiercely. As a commander and warrior, he found himself trembling in fear.

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“I told you, I haven’t really come out yet. Why don’t you ever listen?” Mo Yuan shook his head, sighing.

“Ah!!! My foot!!!” Xia Chuan screamed in pain as a black thorn made of dark mist pierced through the sole of his foot, spreading wildly inside his leg.

Cold, brutal, agonizing, his reason slipping away, his soul trembling and freezing—Xia Chuan felt as if he were sinking into the abyss.

No, it was farther than the abyss. This was true hell!

“Don’t be afraid. This is necessary to prevent you from running away. After all, this wooden box is sentient. Without this guy opening it with his own hands, I would still be sealed, my power unrecovered. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be afraid you’d escape and I couldn’t catch you.”

“That would be troublesome. I promised this guy I’d kill you and take that girl away. If he finds out I failed, he won’t even give me this chance to breathe.”

Mo Yuan danced about gleefully, indifferent to whether anyone watched his ridiculous performance. After tens of millions of years of suffocation, every breath intoxicated him.

“You—you circumvented the Great Xia Forbidden Box’s seal!”

“Yes, so don’t worry about me killing you with a wave of my hand. I’m only a fragment of consciousness leaking from this box, occupying this body. You can resist all you want. Maybe you’ll even survive.”

“I’ve waited a long, long time for this moment. Besides this body I possess now, I owe thanks to a junior and an old friend.”

Mo Yuan’s head turned slightly, his eyes filled with dark mist gazing distantly in one direction, a faint smile playing on his lips—ambiguous and unreadable.

His lips moved slightly, silently speaking to that direction.

Far away, on the cliffs flanking the Wangchuan Gorge, two figures stood on snow-covered ground shrouded in black.

Both wore black cloaks that enveloped them from head to toe.

One was noticeably hunched and half a head shorter than the other. He seemed to decode Mo Yuan’s lip movements and chuckled softly, then spoke in a hoarse, aged voice.

“Indeed, long time no see, old friend.”

The elder’s voice was world-weary, more so than those who had lived hundreds or thousands of years. He sounded as though he had weathered countless storms, witnessed endless changes in the world.

“Tsk, this senior is impressive to have discovered us. I thought our formation would keep us hidden,” the younger man said playfully, his voice magnetic and youthful.

“Among those I lead, he is one of the few I truly respect,” the black-robed elder nodded in agreement.

“Is that so? What about me? How am I?” The younger man asked eagerly.

“You? You’re the ninth. It’s hard to say for now, but…” The elder shook his head lightly.

“But what?” The young man asked curiously.

“But you will be the last,” the elder said meaningfully.

The younger man visibly froze.

“You mean I alone can match all those before me? Ha ha ha.” The young man laughed foolishly, though no one knows what he truly thought.

“Let’s go. Our work isn’t finished. For your senior, he is still bound.”

The elder cast a deep glance toward Mo Yuan’s direction before turning away.

Though the black pillar was dim and vast, the cold wind still blew, snow still fell. The black-robed elder walked cautiously, fearing a slip that might shatter his aged frame.

“This old senior’s injuries are so severe and yet this phenomenon manifests. I wonder how strong he was at his peak,” the younger man remarked lightly.

“Very strong, very strong. Even the one inside the box is but shattered fragments,” the hoarse, aged voice came faintly from behind the young man amid the storm.

“Stronger at his peak than me?” The young man clapped his hands, dusting snow off indifferently.

“You? Heh heh, you’re close, just a little bit short,” the elder chuckled. But the laughter sounded deliberate.

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