Having dealt with the villagers blocking her path, Ming Zhu stepped on the vines for leverage and leaped again, landing several zhang away in the blink of an eye.
The black mist vanished into the night, but her target was clear—she moved with unwavering certainty toward a specific direction.
"Where are you going?" Gu Congshan hurriedly asked as she left.
Did she know what had controlled these villagers of Zhuxi Village, and why they had surrounded her?
Ming Zhu couldn't answer these questions either—she wasn't sure what that mass of fog even was. But it didn't matter. Whatever it was, since it could be punched, it wouldn't be hard to deal with.
With the situation still unclear, even knowing Ming Zhu's strength far surpassed his own, Gu Congshan couldn't help but worry.
He glanced at the still-struggling villagers of Zhuxi Village. The vines were bound tightly—they wouldn't break free anytime soon. And given their puppet-like state with not a shred of sense left, they probably wouldn't think to use fire.
After a moment's hesitation, Gu Congshan followed Ming Zhu.
He needed to see what was going on.
After chasing after her for several li, Gu Congshan realized they had already left Zhuxi Village.
Where exactly was she going? He thought, struggling to catch his breath.
Ming Zhu was simply too fast. To keep up with her, Gu Congshan had to push himself to his limits, his stamina draining rapidly.
Finally, beneath the red prayer ribbons fluttering on the trees, Ming Zhu stopped.
In the night, the surroundings were eerily quiet. The wind blew through the faded ribbons, making them look like birds poised to take flight.
Ming Zhu jumped down from the tree, her gaze landing on the clay statue atop the earthen altar.
The paint was peeling, and the statue's features had been blurred by years of wind and weather.
The villagers of Zhuxi Village originally worshipped the earth deity merely for a bountiful harvest, but once they had a local deity, their requests gradually multiplied.
The human heart is never satisfied.
Ming Zhu stepped forward and stopped before the clay statue. The wind rang the bronze bells as she raised her hand, aiming directly at the statue.
"This seems to be the earth deity the villagers of Zhuxi Village worship…" Gu Congshan realized her intent and spoke up weakly from behind her.
From their days together, he knew Ming Zhu must have her reasons for doing this, but if she destroyed this statue and the villagers found out, they wouldn't let it go easily.
They were outsiders, after all. Wasn't this perhaps a bad idea?
Ming Zhu gave a casual "oh," seemingly unconcerned with his worries. Her spiritual breath circulated through her body as she clenched her right fist and drove it cleanly into the statue.
Peeling paint flaked off and scattered. As a crack appeared on the statue, Gu Congshan vaguely heard what sounded like a cry of pain.
Several bloody gashes appeared on Ming Zhu's right hand, but she seemed not to feel the pain as she raised her hand again.
Just as her fist was about to strike again, the consciousness hidden within the statue finally dared not pretend it wasn't there. Seemingly endless black mist poured out from within, coalescing into a thick shadow above.
How did she know where my true body was?!
Staring at the shadow above, Gu Congshan's mouth fell slightly open. What in the world was this thing?!
Though he had unexpectedly stepped onto the Dao path, with his meager cultivation barely enough to light a fire for roasting meat, having survived this long, he naturally had never encountered any real danger.
Facing the swelling black mist, his legs momentarily went weak. He didn't know whether he should run, or immediately and very quickly run.
While instinct screamed danger, Gu Congshan's mind became unexpectedly clear. He suddenly realized that the villagers of Zhuxi Village's strange behavior tonight was likely connected to this clay statue they worshipped.
But why would it target Ming Zhu?
The massive shadow appeared especially terrifying in the darkness. The black mist spoke in fits and starts, its voice like a clap of thunder: "I want… to eat you…"
Cracks on the clay statue seeped with blood-red color, staining the black mist above crimson. Something seemed to be brewing within the fog, waiting to devour.
Gu Congshan drew in a sharp breath at the sight. This thing hardly looked like a protective deity…
This shadow clamoring to eat Ming Zhu was better described as an evil entity.
Yes—judging by the strange behavior of the villagers of Zhuxi Village, this was an evil entity that borrowed the name of an immortal god and fed on human life essence!
Ming Zhu also looked up at the shadow above. She sensed the power brewing within it more clearly than Gu Congshan, but she felt no fear. Instead, an unfamiliar sensation stirred within her.
So hungry…
This was a feeling Ming Zhu had never experienced before. In her first decade or so of life, she had never needed food to sustain herself—so how could she be hungry?
Facing the blood-soaked black mist, Ming Zhu felt hunger for the first time in her life.
Staring directly at the crimson churning within the black fog, an intricate pattern she didn't recognize rose in her eyes, looping and circling, appearing eerily strange.
Gu Congshan, who was about to call for Ming Zhu to run, watched helplessly as she faced the shadow and disappeared into the roaring black mist. He tried to step forward but felt the bone-piercing chill within the fog, couldn't help shivering, and his steps faltered.
The mist swallowed Ming Zhu's figure. In an instant, Gu Congshan could see nothing. He dared not approach, pacing anxiously in place, not knowing what else he could do.
Within the black fog, all sights of Zhuxi Village faded into the distance. Ming Zhu looked up to find nothing but endless darkness around her.
The floating mist seemed saturated with heavy moisture. The biting cold transformed into tendrils of shadow, silently curling toward Ming Zhu, seeking to bind her hands and feet.
Ming Zhu glanced back. Spiritual breath circulated through her body, and a sudden gust of wind scattered the mist closing in on her. Her encounter with the white wolf in the Wuyin Forest had not been without gain.
The hem of her skirt lifted. A whirlwind formed a vacuum around Ming Zhu as she ran through the shadows, hair streaming behind her, a hint of surging darkness faintly visible in her eyes.
She couldn't see anything around her, yet her direction was clear.
The mist grew denser. The thunderous roar grew louder, mingled with the sound of flapping wings. Countless red birds swept overhead, surging toward Ming Zhu like a flood.
When this crimson flood drew near, it became clear that what flew toward her were not birds, but red cloth strips used for blessings on the banyan tree.
Ming Zhu sidestepped to dodge. The short dagger flipped in her palm, and the sound of tearing cloth rang out in succession. Torn red cloth fell from the air, but before hitting the ground, it seemed to gain new life, transforming into even more birds.
Seeing this, Ming Zhu clicked her tongue lightly. She sheathed her dagger and raised her fingertips, and scorching flames ignited around her.
The flock of birds circling her was set alight, forming a burning ribbon of fire in the sky—a magnificent spectacle.
The mist obscured everything from view, yet Ming Zhu seemed to have no need to discern direction. She crossed through the flames like a white bird in flight, her short dagger infused with spiritual breath cleaving through the fog, precisely carving out a mass of blood-red color that blazed like fire.
The blood-red mass wavered, as if trembling, while strange murmurs echoed all around—sounds that could shake the resolve of any cultivator, regardless of their cultivation level, and plunge them into chaos. But Ming Zhu remained utterly unaffected.
Intricate intricate patterns surfaced in her eyes. She raised her hand and seized the blood-red mass.
As the crimson sank into her palm, thunder rumbled in waves, and an incredulous roar erupted from the black mist. The fog churned violently, yet it could do nothing to Ming Zhu.
Even against a cultivator of higher cultivation than Ming Zhu, it might have been able to corrupt and devour them, but its power proved utterly ineffective against her.
The black mist, with its limited intelligence, had no way to deal with Ming Zhu. The fog rolled in from all sides, like a cornered beast fighting for its life.
As strands of blood-red light seeped into Ming Zhu's palm, the mist was drawn and pulled into her body. The wind whipped at her skirts with a sharp rustling sound. This unknown entity that had clamored to devour her was, in the end, absorbed by her instead.
When the fog dispersed, Gu Congshan, who had been circling in place, finally saw what was before him.
On the earthen altar of the bamboo creek, the red-cloth birds had been ignited by flames, falling one by one like plummeting meteors.
In the firelight, the clay idol shattered into pieces, leaving only a heap of yellow earth that could no longer be shaped. Ming Zhu stood before it, her eyes filled with an impenetrable darkness, and the aura leaking from her was even more fearsome than the black mist had been.
Meeting those ink-black eyes, Gu Congshan felt a pang of dread and instinctively stepped back half a pace.
Ming Zhu, as she appeared now, no longer looked human at all.
At the very instant that terrifying aura leaked forth, something within Ming Zhu was awakened. Brilliant golden seal-script runes surfaced, winding from the back of her hand up to her neck, finally converging at the center of her brow like chains.
The darkness in her eyes surged. Two different forces clashed within her body, and with Ming Zhu at the center, a sudden gale erupted, blasting outward in all directions.
Gu Congshan was knocked head over heels by the onrushing wind, tumbling several times across the ground before coming to a stop. His insides churned violently, and for a moment he could hardly get back to his feet.
The golden seal-script runes traveled across Ming Zhu's body as the chains gradually tightened. She seemed unable to breathe, collapsing to sit on the ground, clawing futilely at her neck, pain written across her face.
It was the first time she had ever known that her body contained such power—one meant to restrain herself.
Gu Congshan, who had just climbed to his feet and meant to flee, stopped in his tracks at the sight.
The wind pushed against the thick layers of clouds. Hundreds of li away, mountain peaks rose high into the sky, and a crescent moon hung like a hook.
A young man stood atop the summit, wind billowing his sleeves. With his hands clasped behind his back, he cut a tall, straight figure, seeming detached from the mortal world.
Unfortunately, he had not been blessed with the face of a banished immortal. His features were utterly ordinary, with nothing memorable about them—the kind of face that, once lost in a crowd, would never be found again.
The only thing worth praising was perhaps the pair of bright, spirited eyes, which lent his plain face a touch more appeal.
Gazing up at the moon for a long while, the young man murmured to himself, as if struck by a thought: "Truly, it is lonely at the top."
In other words, the wind up on this mountaintop was rather cold.
He had no intention of continuing to brave the wind here. With his right hand, he pressed two fingers together, and instantly a gleam of sword-light flared. A long sword broke through the air and came to hover at his side.
The sword-flight sliced through the clouds. Under the moonlight, mountains and rivers faded into the darkness of the night. All was silent, and it seemed as though only the swirling wind remained between heaven and earth.
In such stillness, the shadow spreading below became especially conspicuous. The young man looked down, his gaze sharpening slightly.
The flying sword descended, leaving a streak of white light in the sky, and landed directly toward the winding stream hidden among the bamboo grove.