The main hall was rectangular in shape, with four thick pillars supporting the high vaulted ceiling. Murals were painted along both walls; their colors were no longer vivid, appearing dark and dim with peeling in many places, which bespoke their great age. At regular intervals along the walls, wall lamps projected outward. The fuel burning inside them was presumably enduring merman oil, forming a row of over a hundred lamps that illuminated the great hall brightly. Wutong took a deep breath. He had never expected to find a structure of this scale beneath the Upper Immortal Platform. Ahead of them, at the far end of the hall, a massive door could be seen, though it was unclear what lay before it. Not far behind them, a wide flight of stairs led upward, stretching beyond the limit of vision and clearly serving as the upward path. Wutong and Gu Huaixiu exchanged glances, then headed toward the stairs first. However, they saw the steps gradually narrowing before spiraling upward around a two-zhang-wide circular platform, extending all the way into the hazy, indistinct heights above. Wutong guessed this must be the normal passage leading from above into the underground palace, and wondered whether the Immortal Alliance guards would be stationed at the entrance. But Gu Huaixiu had already turned around and headed back toward the great hall, and knowing he had no control over the fiend’s actions, Wutong could only follow him over. Standing once again at the entrance of the great hall, their attention was naturally drawn to the murals on the walls. Wutong followed closely by Gu Huaixiu’s side, viewing them from the closest possible vantage point. The initial image depicted a chaotic sea of fire, followed by the separation of mountains and rivers, as if at the dawn of heaven and earth when primordial chaos first opened, giving birth to a blood-red stone that manifested between heaven and earth. Although crude in form, the shape of the jade ring could already be faintly discerned within it. Were these murals about the Zhutian Jue? Wutong was fretting over his limited knowledge of the Zhutian Jue and his inability to untie the binding, so having a clue now filled him with renewed spirit as he studied them earnestly. Glancing sideways at Gu Huaixiu, he noticed the other was equally focused, evidently harboring the same intent. The subsequent images showed the stone undergoing various stages such as burial in shifting sands, silence at the bottom of the sea, freezing in glaciers, and scorching by magma. Eons seemed to pass during this process, as nothing living appeared in the scenes aside from flying sand, stones, and the blazing sun. Unawares, they had already walked quite a distance forward before ancient birds and beasts gradually appeared on the murals. By the time human figures finally emerged in the scenes, they had reached the middle section of the great hall. The narrative progressed to the Zhutian Jue being fought over among a crowd of people, until it was finally hoisted high in the palm of a figure standing upon the clouds. Wutong instantly guessed this person must be Haochan Tianzun, the founding patriarch of the Tianchen Sect. Upon wearing the Zhutian Jue, Haochan Tianzun achieved sagehood in a single bound and received the prostrations and worship of all people. He founded the Tianchen Sect, led an army of cultivators to conquer the four directions and cleanse the universe, and after paying the heavy price of countless bones on both sides, he finally united the world under one rule. Yet on the eve of his successful ascension, a heavenly tribulation suddenly descended. Haochan Tianzun bore the natural disaster with his own strength and ultimately protected the beings of the world, but his own life was exhausted, his soul and spirit scattered, leaving only the Zhutian Jue behind. Wutong had known this piece of history by heart in the past, but the lifelike murals now stirred his emotions deeply. While sighing over Haochan Tianzun’s life, he could not help wondering: Could it be that the Zhutian Jue carried Haochan Tianzun’s regrets and unwillingness, causing this treasure to bring both elevation and misfortune to its owners? Yet now the Zhutian Jue was bound around both his and Gu Huaixiu’s wrists. According to their previous deduction, the fiend’s magical power had not increased. As for misfortune, Wutong certainly hoped misfortune would befall the fiend, ideally after he and Gu Huaixiu were separated. After pondering for a long while without reaching any conclusion, Wutong continued viewing the murals. What followed was the past history of the cultivation world with which he was already familiar: centered around the founding, division, and evolution of the Immortal Alliance, while also tracing the rise and fall of various sects and noble clans. Naturally, this included the Ji family to which Wutong belonged. Seeing how multiple clans that rose during the same era gradually declined and perished later on, while only the Nanyan Ji family stood proudly erect and grew even stronger, ranking alongside the Tianchen Sect and Liuling Palace, a sense of pride swelled naturally within Wutong’s heart. There was also content that Wutong was learning for the first time. For instance, after Haochan Tianzun perished, the brief unification quickly fractured and fell apart. One of the tribes migrated far away, reaching the scorched earth boundary, where the vicissitudes of time led them onto the path of demonic cultivation, becoming the ancestors of the present-day demon race. From the murals, one could see that in the distant past, immortals and demons coexisted harmonious, bearing no resemblance to the current state of irreconcilable hostility. Tracing back tens of thousands of years, immortals and demons were originally one family. For some reason, this sentence suddenly popped into Wutong’s mind. He could not help tilting his head to glance at Gu Huaixiu, noticing that the other’s brow was slightly furrowed while his gaze lingered on another spot. Wutong hurriedly crowded over to look, following the direction of Gu Huaixiu’s gaze. Soon, he noticed the clue. The mural depicted the back of a cultivator holding the Zhutian Jue, though he was not an Immortal Alliance Leader. Wutong was certain of this for two reasons: first, this person was not labeled with a title or identity like all the previous leaders; second, the mural never once showed his face from front to end, and his appearance and disappearance were exceptionally abrupt, much like a well-flowing stream that suddenly forms a vortex, vanishes into the ground, and then bubbles up from the earth again much further away. Who is this person? Why is he holding the Zhutian Jue? Wutong did not expect Gu Huaixiu to answer him, simply blurting out his question. Sure enough, Gu Huaixiu did not reply, only gazing at the mural with a solemn expression. In truth, Wutong harbored an even greater doubt. Warned by the fact that the first four leaders of the Immortal Alliance met untimely ends, starting from the fifth generation, subsequent leaders no longer carried it on their persons, choosing instead to construct shrines and worship it devoutly in prayer for universal peace. This point was also corroborated by the earlier murals. Originally, Wutong had thought that only one person had worn the Zhutian Jue after that namely Immortal Dongyao, who sacrificed herself to the artifact twenty years ago to defeat the fiend Lieyang yet today he saw in the murals that there was yet another mysterious individual. In Wutong’s mind, he quickly assigned him the placeholder name Nameless. This Nameless person seemed to have simply wandered around with the Zhutian Jue before entering an ancient door. As he vanished, the Zhutian Jue appeared once more and was passed down to the hands of the Immortal Alliance Leader. Wutong was filled with a head full of question marks, and he stepped closer to examine it carefully. The night-pearl above his head very helpfully drifted closer to that region. Although Nameless remained depicted solely from behind, the details of his clothing and attire were meticulous. It is a Taoist robe of the Tianchen Sect, Wutong whispered softly. Although the style differed from the garments worn by current Tianchen Sect disciples, the nine-winged dragon emblem embroidered upon it was precisely the insignia of the Tianchen Sect. An abandoned pawn, Gu Huaixiu let out a light snort from his nose. What? Wutong did not catch it clearly. Nothing, Gu Huaixiu said lazily as he continued walking forward, leaving Wutong with no choice but to move his feet along. Have you seen any method to untie the Zhutian Jue? Wutong asked again. No. Wutong sighed softly. That Nameless person obtained the Zhutian Jue yet did nothing at all. How strange. Nameless? Gu Huaixiu stopped walking and asked. Oh, the one who only showed his back. That is the code name I gave him. Gu Huaixiu raised an eyebrow slightly, wondering what he thought of, and gave another light snort from his nose. The remaining murals did not provide much useful information, and the two of them unconsciously walked to the very end of the great hall. A heavy, antique mysterious-iron door blocked their path, carved all over with incomprehensible complex patterns and runes. Wutong rubbed his eyes, looked at the door, and then turned back to look at the door the Nameless person had entered in the mural. Although some distance separated them, the door on the mural was clearly this very one standing right before their eyes! Wutong looked at the door, which was twice as tall as a person. Right in the middle, around a person’s height, was a palm-sized raised six-petal floral pattern that looked extremely conspicuous. Wutong reached out and pushed it. Wait! Gu Huaixiu called out to stop him, but it was already too late. The runes on the door suddenly twisted and intertwined, instantly transforming into a giant python that surged straight out from the door, its bloody maw instantly clamping down on half of Wutong’s arm. One could even hear the crunch of teeth snapping together and the sound of cracking bones. Ah! Wutong’s terrified scream echoed throughout the great hall. With a loud bang, the python’s head was completely shattered, and Wutong was jerked backward by several zhang. The python’s head and body, which had lunged halfway out, rapidly retracted. Amidst the sound of shattering iron chains, the giant python morphed back into decorative patterns, twisting on the door for a moment before coming to a stop, restoring everything to normal. This entire sequence was both horrifying and abrupt. Wutong’s scream cut off instantly as he stared blankly at the door, still panic-stricken for a long moment, until the sound of dripping droplets reached his ears. Turning his head, he saw Gu Huaixiu’s right arm dripping with fresh blood. Two puncture wounds on his forearm were mangled and bloody, with bone almost visible. The dripping sound was precisely blood trickling down onto the ground. The crimson sight made Wutong’s legs go weak, but what shocked him even more was: the giant python had clearly bitten him, yet why was the one bleeding Gu Huaixiu? He looked suspiciously at his own right arm—the one that had just escaped from the python’s maw—completely intact. Not only was there not a single trace of injury, but even his sleeve was undamaged, and throughout the entire process, he had felt no pain whatsoever! A flash of lightning sparked in his mind, and Wutong suddenly understood! After being struck by lightning, he had faced death yet revived, while Gu Huaixiu remained perfectly fine yet inexplicably suffered injuries. When Gu Huaixiu used the dagger, the red cord did not break, yet he himself got hurt, wait! That strike was meant to hack at me! And the unbelievable scene that had just unfolded right before his eyes. All of this had happened ever since the Zhutian Jue bound the two of them together. The bearer of the artifact was destined to suffer misfortune. Put that way, Gu Huaixiu’s misfortune was bearing every single injury inflicted upon Wutong! Realizing this, Wutong could not help marveling once more: the ancestors’ treasures were truly wonderful; blood was thicker than water after all, taking special care of their own! Recalling Gu Huaixiu’s words and actions earlier, Wutong understood belatedly: Ah, you treacherous big fiend Gu Huaixiu! You must have figured out this crucial point long ago, and you even attempted to harm me to test it out. And what happened? You lifted a rock only to drop it on your own feet! In high spirits, Wutong was just about to mock Gu Huaixiu a few times, but catching sight of his terrifying wound and expression of enduring immense pain, he could not quite bring himself to laugh. Gu Huaixiu cast a cold glance at him, a trace of sarcastic a smile pulling at the corner of his lips: Feeling very pleased with yourself, are you? Wutong choked for a moment, blurting out: Who is pleased with myself! On second thought: Why shouldn’t I be pleased? If the Zhutian Jue hadn’t protected me, I reckon I would have been chewed up and swallowed whole by you by now, and still have my life standing here? He therefore straightened his posture and declared righteously: Serve him right! Yet that wound truly looked shocking to the eyes. Wutong was just about to remind him that didn’t demon cultivators recover very quickly, when he saw Gu Huaixiu already close his eyes to regulate his breath and heal, with black mist circling his right arm in a tight ring. Wutong closed his mouth, thinking to himself that he was truly foolish. How could he possibly feel compassion for this ill-intentioned fiend? If he died of pain or illness, wouldn’t that suit his wishes perfectly? A sudden flash of inspiration struck him: If I were to give myself a stab, would it severely injure this fiend and force him to surrender?
Chapter 11 - Serve Him Right!
After The Demon Lord Became A Beautiful, Useless Accessory