Chapter 60

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Chapter 60: Dark Prison and the Evil God

The temple stood secluded amidst the trees at the mountain’s peak, shrouded by overgrown weeds, as though untouched by human hands for ages.

Strangely, the inside was immaculate. Not a speck of dirt marred the stone steps, and the air carried an eerie stillness. Yet, when they glanced at the plaque above the entrance, they found it utterly blank.

“Shall we go in?”

Yi Qianmo turned to the others, his voice low but steady.

Zhou Lanting and Yu Xiu hesitated, their expressions uneasy. Yi Qianmo quickly understood—one practiced magic, the other Buddhism. Entering an unknown temple could mean stepping into danger.

Suddenly, the large temple doors creaked open. A chilling wind swept past them, but no one appeared. The unsettling gust made them all shiver as they instinctively stepped back.

“You both wait here. I’ll go in and take a look,” Yi Qianmo said firmly.

“This place feels strange… be cautious, Senior,” Yu Xiu warned, his tone grave.

Yi Qianmo nodded and stepped inside. A cool breeze brushed over him, but he quickly enveloped himself in spiritual energy, dulling its unsettling chill.

The temple interior was deathly silent. It seemed isolated from the outside world, and only the sound of his heartbeat echoed in his ears.

As he reached the entrance of the main hall, the heavy doors opened on their own. Instinctively, Yi Qianmo stepped back, gripping the hilt of his sword. Yet, when he looked inside, he saw no one.

What greeted him instead was a sight that made his heart sink. Where one might expect statues of revered deities such as the Three Pure Ones or the Jade Emperor, this temple housed a dark, menacing idol with a fierce countenance. It wasn’t a god—at least not one of light.

A sense of foreboding crept over him. The atmosphere grew heavier, the already strange temple becoming even more ominous.

Then, without warning, the sword at Yi Qianmo’s waist began to hum and shake violently. He clenched it tightly, suppressing its wild energy.

“Help me!”

A voice echoed in his mind. Startled, Yi Qianmo instinctively took a defensive step back, but there was no one around. He glanced at the eerie idol, his instincts sharpening.

The statue’s eyes began to glow red, their sinister light cutting through the dimness of the hall.

“Who dares to play tricks before me?” Yi Qianmo growled, drawing his black sword and pointing it at the idol.

“I am not your enemy,” the voice echoed again, calm but desperate. “I am a prisoner here, sealed by wicked people. Please… save me.”

Yi Qianmo narrowed his eyes. “Why should I save you?”

“I recognize the sword in your hand,” the voice said. “That is the blade Repel Evil. Do you know its history?”

Yi Qianmo’s heart skipped a beat. He did know the sword’s reputation—its thirst for blood and its capacity to suppress spirits. It was a weapon both revered and feared.

“The blade you wield is a demon sword,” the voice continued. “The more it kills, the stronger it becomes. But beware, for when it has tasted enough blood, it will turn against its master.”

Yi Qianmo smirked inwardly. If not for the Sword Pill, I wouldn’t have dared to wield this blade in the first place, he thought. Still, he remained silent, letting the voice continue.

“Free me, and I will tell you how to control it,” the voice offered.

“What is this place?” Yi Qianmo asked, changing the subject.

“This is the Dark Prison,” the voice answered.

“A prison?” Yi Qianmo’s brows furrowed.

“Yes. A prison for Great Devils,” the voice explained. “Do you see that tower in the distance?”

Yi Qianmo nodded.

“That is the Minggu Tower. It is an ancient artifact created to suppress countless powerful beings. The red-haired monsters you’ve encountered? They are mere shadows of what this prison holds. True terrors lie within that tower.”

The revelation sent a chill down Yi Qianmo’s spine. The voice continued, recounting a tale of the Lord of the Sky—an almighty being whose fall triggered a catastrophic war. The Minggu Tower became the ultimate prize, but no one managed to claim its legacy.

“This temple is the hub of the Dark Prison,” the voice said. “Whoever controls this temple controls the Minggu Tower—and the Great Devils within.”

Yi Qianmo’s thoughts raced. Could the fluffy little creature he carried also be connected to this prison? He glanced down briefly, noting its soft, warm presence against his chest.

“How were you sealed here?” he asked.

“Betrayal,” the voice replied bitterly. “When I sought the Minggu Tower alongside my sect, my comrades turned on me and bound me here. They, too, met their fates—becoming those red-haired beasts.”

The voice softened. “But I… I retained my consciousness. If you free me, I can help you claim the tower’s power.”

Yi Qianmo’s grip on his sword tightened. He wasn’t a fool. The promise of power was tempting, but he knew better than to trust an entity bound in such a way.

“How can I free you?” he asked, his tone cautious.

“There is a Blood Talisman behind this statue,” the voice said. “It binds me. Remove it, and I will serve you.”

Yi Qianmo stepped closer, circling the statue. Indeed, there was a blood-red talisman etched with ancient runes. Reaching out, he touched it—but as soon as his fingers made contact, an overwhelming force surged through him.

“Fool!” the voice roared, its tone shifting to one of malevolence. “Did you think you could handle the Minggu Tower? What arrogance! Let me erase your soul and claim your body instead!”

Darkness enveloped Yi Qianmo, and the last thing he saw was the talisman’s blood-red glow consuming his vision.