Chapter 79

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Chapter 79: Executing the Mission

Beneath the azure sky stretched an endless expanse of wild rice fields, where clear waters flowed gently, and mountain beasts leaped through the jungle.

It was spring, a season of renewal and flourishing life. Yet, Ming He stood at the village entrance, surrounded by rocks, her expression grave.

Before her lay a thick black fog, like ink spilled upon the earth, enveloping the once tranquil village. It felt as though demonic creatures had descended, leaving only dread and an eerie stillness.

“This black fog…” Ming He murmured, her brow furrowed. The fog engulfed Bailu Village, as Mu Qian had mentioned, yet it did not spread beyond. It even spared travelers; as long as one did not enter the village, they were safe.

No wonder no one had intervened; since it posed no threat to themselves, it was easy to turn a blind eye.

“I’ve tried many methods, but none have worked,” Mu Qian said, standing beside Ming He with a solemn expression. “This is the work of demonic creatures. Without dispelling the black fog, we can’t even enter the village.”

He paused before continuing, “I once channeled my fourth-tier sword intent and struck the black fog with all my might, but I only managed to cut through the edges; I couldn’t penetrate deeper.”

“Are you saying the black fog fears sword intent?” Ming He pondered.

“The way of the sword is the path of righteousness. A sword cultivator’s sharp blade can cut through all malevolent forces, so it should indeed fear sword intent.” Mu Qian glanced at Ming He. “Have you heard of the Haoran Sword Sect, Friend?”

Ming He shook her head. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“The Haoran Sword Sect is a renowned sword sect in the central region. Its cultivators follow the Haoran Sword Dao, embodying their lifelong pursuit. Perhaps you’ve heard the phrase: ‘A touch of Haoran energy, a swift wind for a thousand miles.’”

There was a glimmer of admiration in Mu Qian’s eyes. “I once had the privilege of dueling a disciple of the Haoran Sword Sect. His sword strikes were like thunder, and the righteous energy flowed from his sword tip; he was truly noble and upright.”

“Such swordsmanship naturally dispels evil, standing firm in the sunlight, making it a natural nemesis of demonic creatures.”

Ming He was slightly moved. “So, Senior Mu believes I can break through the black fog because of my swordsmanship?” Did her swordsmanship align with the Haoran way, as both were paths of light?

Her expression betrayed a hint of surprise.

“In a sense,” Mu Qian replied with a faint smile, his demeanor serious. “I ask you, Ming He, to draw your sword and help me pierce through the black fog.” He gave a slight bow.

“Very well.” Ming He laughed heartily, unsheathing her sword. Just as Mu Qian had witnessed that day before the library, her sword moved like the wind, its tip gleaming coldly. When it touched the black fog, the fog dispersed bit by bit, like snow melting under the sun.

This was the moment!

“Go.” Ming He called out, her figure flickering as she stepped into the black fog. The fog trembled slightly, as if attempting to close in again. Mu Qian paused, his eyes filled with awe, then swiftly followed her.

Inside the village, the scene appeared no different from any ordinary village. Low, narrow houses stood connected, with country paths crisscrossing between them. Chickens and ducks clucked and quacked, while villagers plowed fields or wove cloth. Children chased fireflies, and the elderly sat peacefully beneath trees, creating an illusion of tranquility.

But both Ming He and Mu Qian knew this was merely a facade. With the black fog looming, something sinister had surely occurred. Moreover, the faint traces of black energy clinging to the villagers were impossible to ignore.

“Search the darker corners,” Mu Qian said gravely.

Demonic creatures naturally feared light, preferring shadowy, secluded places.

“I’ll head east, while you, Ming He, go west.” Mu Qian’s tone was urgent; the villagers’ conditions were unknown. Earlier, he had sensed a life force within one of them using his spiritual energy. They were still alive, but a wisp of demonic energy lingered near their hearts, clearly controlling their minds.

“Understood.” Ming He nodded without hesitation, gripping her Longquan Sword. Her expression was sharp, radiating the focused intent of a sword cultivator.

She scanned her surroundings and began walking westward, her sword tip pointing toward each place she passed—woodpiles, bamboo baskets, stone jars… Her gaze was stern, showing no hint of carelessness.

With demonic creatures at large, she knew nothing of their nature, strength, or origins. She had to remain utterly vigilant.

Suddenly, Ming He’s gaze halted, fixed on something ahead. There lay a small, skull-shaped stone—or perhaps it wasn’t a stone at all.

Ming He stepped closer and used her sword tip to lift the skull-shaped object. After a moment’s hesitation, she extended a thread of spiritual energy, carefully probing its mysteries.

At that instant, her chest burned with sudden heat. The Star Lock vibrated faintly, as if transmitting a surge of power. Before her eyes, the skull-shaped stone crumbled into ash, scattering to the ground.

What is this…? Ming He’s breath hitched as if she had realized something, her eyes lighting up with understanding. She had thoroughly searched the village to the west but found nothing.

The demonic creatures were not hiding in the west.

Once certain of this, Ming He turned to inquire about Mu Qian’s findings, only to be met with an eerie silence enveloping the village. It was so quiet that she could hear her own breathing clearly; even the monotonous, repetitive footsteps of the villagers she had noticed upon her arrival had ceased.

It felt as though she were the only soul left in the entire village.

Something was amiss.

Ming He’s gaze sharpened. Where was Mu Qian? She extended her spiritual energy to locate him, but wherever her energy swept, there was nothing but void.

Mu Qian was in trouble!

Ming He swiftly flew eastward, the humble dwellings of the villagers fading behind her, while ahead, the black fog twisted and thickened, almost solidifying. This was the easternmost part of the village, shadowed by the dark, sunless back of Bailu Mountain.

The demonic creatures could only be hiding here.

Ming He glared at the tightly shut wooden door with fierce determination and then swung her sword, splitting the door in two. The dense black fog surged forward like ravenous wolves spotting their prey, instantly engulfing her.

“Ming He, Friend!”

She thought she heard Mu Qian’s clear, anxious voice. Ming He focused her spiritual energy to shield her mind, glancing down at the Star Lock on her chest, which vibrated slightly. Mimicking her action, it began to consume and dissipate the black fog, sending her a wave of satisfaction before falling silent.

Just as she had suspected, the Star Lock naturally suppressed the demonic creatures.

Ming He recalled a shadowy figure, dark as blood, and for a moment, her thoughts wandered. She then lifted her gaze to see the low houses with their doors shattered and askew, and in the empty courtyard, only a water well remained—the villagers’ source of water.

Mu Qian was now slumped over the edge of the well, looking disheveled and flushed, yet his eyes remained bright and clear. Seeing her standing with her sword, he managed a faint smile and spoke with difficulty, “The demonic creature… it’s at the bottom of the well. You… you just dispelled its demonic energy; it’s no longer a threat.”

He straightened up, a mark around his neck indicating he had been choked, yet he firmly gripped his sword without letting go.

“It’s good that you’re fine, Senior Mu.” Ming He paused slightly, then swung her sword toward the bottom of the well, intending to force the demon out.

“Swish!”

A mocking sound reached her ears, followed by a less dense cloud of black fog. As the fog dissipated, a… skull slowly materialized.

The skull was supported by white bones, devoid of any flesh or blood, and its face bore a pair of green, glowing eyes. Its black lips moved in an eerie manner, looking utterly bizarre.

“Once again, it’s you self-righteous cultivators!” The skull coldly sneered, offering no more words as it lunged directly at Ming He, its bony fingers aimed at her heart.

Ming He was momentarily startled, not caring why Mu Qian stood silently at the side. She took a swing to break the air, pushing forward with the intent to block, thinking she would first evaluate the demon creature’s strength.

To her surprise, the creature did not dodge or evade; it charged directly into her sword tip, vanishing under the brilliant sword light, a trace of a relieved smile lingering on its black lips.

Had it really vanished, or had it been reduced to ashes?

Ming He stood in shock, glancing at her sword tip where the cold gleam had disappeared, now cleanly and eerily sharp. “Senior Mu, you…”

She was about to ask Mu Qian if he understood what had transpired when she saw the young man slowly crouch down, a look of confusion on his face.

“I thought I was saving the villagers’ lives, but instead I harmed them,” he murmured, his expression complex as his internal spiritual energy fluctuated dangerously.

Ming He frowned, not entirely grasping his meaning. Her pupils constricted as she saw the villagers who had previously walked around in a stupor, repetitively going through the motions, begin to collapse one by one. Their bodies transformed into wisps of demonic energy upon hitting the ground, dissipating into thin air.

The once living beings sheltered under the black fog of the village had now vanished without a trace. With the black fog gone, the villagers had no chance of surviving; as the fog dissipated, so did their vitality.

Did the villagers lose their lives because that skull was dead?

Ming He’s mind jolted; this technique felt oddly familiar. She had seen related records in the Liu Yun Sect’s library; it was a method of the demon race—controlling the hearts and minds of mortals to turn them into puppets. When the demon dies, so too do the puppets.

So if Mu Qian had not come here, if the black fog had remained, and the skull had not been defeated under her sword, would the villagers have lived? Was this Mu Qian’s thought?

Ridiculous!

Ming He felt disbelief wash over her. “Senior Mu, do you think the villagers died because of you?” She frowned slightly; Mu Qian’s fluctuating spiritual energy revealed a disturbance in his foundation, clearly shaken due to Bailu Village’s plight.

She struggled to comprehend his thoughts. “Isn’t the true culprit the demon creature? If that skull hadn’t appeared, Bailu Village would be just as peaceful as we saw at the beginning; it has nothing to do with you.”

“But if I hadn’t come, the villagers of Bailu Village would at least still be alive?” He seemed to be spiraling into a corner of thought.

“If it meant losing your consciousness, living in a daze like a walking corpse, obeying others’ commands without knowing who you are, would you wish for such a life, Senior Mu?” After saying this, Ming He stepped forward, directing her gaze into the well where the demon creature had hidden. Beneath the swirling black energy lay several skull-shaped stones, but there was nothing else.

She meticulously inspected the entire village, finding no abnormalities elsewhere. The whole situation stemmed from the demon creature at the bottom of the well, and the vanishing of the demon had felt almost like a mere illusion.

But where did the demon come from? If it were so easy to eliminate, how could there be such intense black fog capable of corroding the mind? Or perhaps the demon was not weak at all; it was simply that she subdued it easily because she possessed the Star Lock?

Why Bailu Village? Was there something unusual about Bailu Village, or was it merely a coincidence? Was it solely Bailu Village that was plagued by demonic creatures?

Demon race.

As Ming He repeated these two words, her head began to throb, as if mysteries were closing in around her, tangible yet invisible, with every step feeling like a calculation.

Over there, Mu Qian seemed to have come to a realization after a long pause. “You’re right, Junior Sister Ming He. It’s the demon creature’s sins. From now on, I will continue to slay demons, ridding the world of those who disrupt the mortals, for that is the true path.”

“To the villagers of Bailu Village, I bid you farewell,” the young man stood at the village entrance, eyes filled with compassion as he raised a fire torch high into the sky. Following his heart’s intent, he unleashed a surge of spiritual energy, and the flames erupted from the sky, swiftly consuming the village in an inferno.

“Let’s go back.” Mu Qian turned away, avoiding the view of the blazing sea of flames behind him, his right fist clenched, betraying his unsettled emotions.

Ming He silently nodded, unaware that deep within the fire sea, a skull floated into view, its black lips pulling into a sinister smile, one that looked both joyous and mournful.