In the heart of the Middle Earth, twenty miles beyond the bustling city of Heyang, the twilight deepened, and the ancient path grew eerily quiet. It was a perilous era, with demons and malevolent spirits running rampant. Even under the watchful gaze of the mighty Azure Ethereal Conclave, there was no guarantee of safety. Everyone, from common folk to seasoned adventurers, cherished their life, especially after the devastating beast demon calamity that had left survivors even more wary.
Yet, a few figures still trudged along the road. Leading the group was an elderly man, exuding the air of an otherworldly sage, holding a bamboo pole adorned with an old cloth banner inscribed with the words “Divine Guidance.” Behind him, a masked man and a charming young woman walked. The woman, despite the fading light, was engrossed in a book with a plain black cover.
These were none other than Zhou Yixian, Xiao Huan, and Ye Gou Daoren.
Along their journey, Zhou Yixian frequently sidetracked, dragging unsuspecting travelers into impromptu fortune-telling sessions. Though Xiao Huan and Ye Gou found it vexing, the fortunes he bestowed seemed to rejuvenate those who received them, leaving them elated and full of renewed hope.
As the night grew darker, Zhou Yixian’s pockets bulged with silver, while Xiao Huan immersed herself in the mysterious tome left by Mister Ghost. The book, filled with arcane secrets of the ghostly arts, had captured her fascination. She read it incessantly, oblivious to the dimming light.
Ye Gou called out to Zhou Yixian, “Elder, it seems we won’t reach Heyang tonight. If we can’t find shelter, we’ll have to camp in the wilderness.”
Zhou Yixian peered at the sky, nodded, and scanned the surroundings. The desolate area lacked any signs of habitation, not even a dilapidated temple or shack.
Clearing his throat, Zhou Yixian saw Ye Gou watching him, but Xiao Huan remained engrossed in her book. He frowned, disapproving of her fascination with the dark arts, yet she always dismissed his concerns with a sharp retort: “This wicked art has many ways to save lives, more than your divination!”
Zhou Yixian, stumped, shifted the subject. “Xiao Huan, now is not the time for reading that ghastly book.”
Xiao Huan lifted her head, irritated. “Grandfather, we’re moving slowly because you keep stopping to swindle people with fake fortunes, not because I’m reading.”
Flustered, Zhou Yixian coughed and mumbled, “Anyway, we need to find shelter. Do you remember any abandoned temples around here?”
Ye Gou shook his head. “We can’t find anyone to take us in. Elder, you know this area better. Is there any rundown temple we can stay in?”
Zhou Yixian, slightly defensive, then remembered something. “There’s a fork in the road ahead. A bit further down, there’s a house. Though it’s not in the best condition, it will suffice for the night.”
Encouraged, Xiao Huan and Ye Gou eagerly set off, with Zhou Yixian trailing behind, muttering about the nature of the place.
The path they took led deep into the wilds, and soon they found a small, secluded road. Following it, they finally reached a derelict courtyard. The place was in shambles, with broken walls and a decayed door frame.
Xiao Huan frowned, but Zhou Yixian was relieved. Entering the courtyard, he found no immediate danger, though the place felt familiar. As they ventured inside, Xiao Huan stumbled upon a faded black sign. Reading it, she paled, realizing what it said: “Mortuary.”
Enraged, she shouted, “Grandfather, how could you bring us to such a place again?!”
Embarrassed, Zhou Yixian tried to explain, but Xiao Huan cut him off. “Enough talk, let’s leave.”
Suddenly, a shadowy figure appeared at the gate. Tall and dressed in tattered robes, its face hidden in darkness. A chill ran down their spines.
“Who…who are you?” Xiao Huan, trembling, asked.
No response, only an eerie, red glow from the figure’s eyes.
Zhou Yixian, recognizing a mark on the figure’s arm, exclaimed, “That’s the symbol of the Azure Ethereal Conclave!”
Meanwhile, in the depths of the ancient demon-sealing cave within the Ten Thousand Great Mountains, dark tunnels stretched endlessly. Li Xian and Jin Ping’er had been traversing the maze, encountering fierce demonic guardians. Yet, Li Xian’s newfound power, enhanced by the Blood-devouring Pearl, allowed them to press forward. The demons, even formidable ones, fell swiftly, leaving a trail of desiccated corpses.
Jin Ping’er, increasingly unnerved by Li Xian’s prowess, wondered if anyone in the Demon Sect could match him. The Ghost King, or perhaps the enigmatic Mr. Ghost?
Suddenly, Li Xian halted, a sense of unease washing over him. In the oppressive silence, a haunting melody filled the air, carrying through the darkness:
“In the moonlit grove, as frost clings to the ground,
People drift like petals, hearts forever bound.
Decades pass, eons blend,
Memories linger, never end…”
As the sorrowful tune echoed, Monkey Xiao Hui, seemingly excited, leaped from Li Xian’s shoulder, disappearing into the shadows.
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