"...So you are telling me that during the clash with the Divine Sword Sect, your group was ambushed, your fellow disciples were overwhelmed, and in the chaos… they turned on each other?"
The old man's voice was slow and rough, each word dragged out as his narrow eyes stayed fixed on the young man standing before him.
Mo Shen stood straight, his robe was now clean, his hands calm at his sides as if the blood from before had never touched him.
He gave a small nod.
"Yes, Elder Wu."
The elder leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping once against the arm of his chair, the faint sound echoing in the quiet hall.
"They turned on each other…" he repeated, his tone changing just enough to carry a trace of doubt.
"Liu Cheng, Wang Jie, Zhao Kun… and Han Lei. All dead by internal conflict?"
Mo Shen did not hesitate and nodded.
"Yes."
A brief silence followed.
The elder's gaze sharpened, scanning Mo Shen from head to toe, as if trying to peel away his skin and look straight into his thoughts.
"And you alone survived without a single serious injury," the elder said, his voice dipping lower.
Mo Shen lowered his head slightly, trying hard to maintain a calm expression.
"I was at the edge of the fight," he replied in a calm tone.
"When the Divine Sword Sect collapsed, our side had already lost control. They began to fight over the spoils, and when I tried to stop them, it was too late."
The elder let out a soft hum.
"Too late…" he echoed, almost tasting the words.
His eyes narrowed further.
"And you did not take part in this… struggle for spoils?"
Mo Shen paused for the briefest moment, then shook his head.
"I did not see the value in fighting over scraps while enemies could still be nearby."
The elder stared at him before a faint, crooked smile appeared on the old man's lips.
"How cautious."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze growing heavier.
"In the Myriad Demon Sect, killing each other for resources is not forbidden," the elder stated slowly.
"In fact… it is often encouraged."
Mo Shen remained silent.
"But... lying about it is another matter entirely," his eyes narrowed slighly.
The air in the hall seemed to grow colder.
Mo Shen lifted his eyes and met the elder's gaze without flinching.
"I have only stated what I witnessed."
The elder's fingers stopped tapping.
Silence pressed down between them.
Then the elder suddenly started laughing.
"Hah… hahah…"
He leaned back again, waving a hand as if brushing away the tension.
"Whether it was internal conflict… or whether you quietly removed your fellow disciples… it makes little difference."
His eyes locked onto Mo Shen once more, now carrying a faint glint of approval mixed with suspicion.
"The dead have no voice, and the living… hold the truth."
Mo Shen lowered his head slightly.
"Yes, Elder Wu."
The elder watched him for a moment longer before speaking again.
"You brought back their belongings?"
Mo Shen stepped forward and placed several storage pouches on the ground.
"These are what remained."
The elder glanced at them briefly, then scoffed.
"Pathetic."
His gaze returned to Mo Shen, and suddenly, his lips curled up slighly.
"Tell me, Mo Shen… if the same situation were to happen again…"
The elder's smile deepened slightly.
"…would you still stand at the edge and watch?"
Mo Shen did not answer immediately, thinking about it for a moment. Then, just as he had his own conclusion, he finally spoke.
"If standing at the edge ensures survival…"
He lifted his head fully, his eyes calm and dark.
"…then I will remain there."
The elder stared at him and slowly nodded.
"Good."
A faint chuckle escaped his lips.
"Very good."
His eyes lingered on Mo Shen a moment longer before he waved his hand dismissively.
"Get out of my sight."
Mo Shen bowed slightly.
"Yes, Elder Wu!"
He hurriedly got out of there, knowing that standing alone with that elder a few more minutes would start to make him panic.
'...Interacting with that elder always gives me the creeps!' he sucked a cold breath of air.
'But well... I need to go and greet Master as I promised.'
Mo Shen quickly started heading back to his mountain peak.
The sect spread across several peaks, each one claimed by a different pavilion, each following its own twisted path toward power, none of them clean, none of them gentle.
In this place, there was no single way to walk the Dao.
Only the way that lets you survive.
As he moved along the stone path, distant buildings came into view, each one carrying a different aura.
The first peak to the east was filled with soft music and faint laughter that drifted through the air like silk.
That was the Hehuan Pavilion.
The disciples there cultivated through dual cultivation, using pleasure, desire, and the exchange of yin and yang to grow stronger, often binding others through charm or temptation, draining their partners slowly while smiling as if nothing was wrong.
Many outsiders feared them, yet many still walked willingly into their halls.
To the west, a darker peak stood quiet and still, with almost no sound at all.
That was the Poison Pavilion.
The disciples there focused on toxins, venoms, and hidden killing methods, raising poisonous insects, refining deadly brews, and learning how to kill without being seen, their bodies often filled with poison to the point where even their blood became dangerous.
They did not need to face their enemies directly.
A single mistake was enough to end a life.
Further ahead, a heavy scent of iron lingered in the air.
That was the Blood Pavilion.
There, killing was not only accepted, but it was also required.
Disciples fought each other openly, using blood as a source of power, refining it, burning it, and drawing strength from slaughter, believing that only through constant killing could one reach the peak.
Their hands were never clean.
Their minds were never calm.
On another peak, strange wooden figures stood lined up in silence.
That was the Puppet Pavilion.
The disciples there carved, stitched, and controlled bodies, whether made of wood, metal, or flesh, turning them into weapons that followed their will without question, some even going as far as refining living people into puppets, stripping away their minds piece by piece.
To them, control was everything.
Not far from it, a quiet and almost empty peak stood under a gray sky.
That was the Emotion-Severing Pavilion.
The disciples there cut away their feelings bit by bit, removing attachment, fear, love, and even hatred, believing that emotion was a chain that held back true strength.
They spoke little, felt little, and walked a cold path where nothing mattered except progress.
Many who met them felt uneasy, as if standing before something that looked human but no longer was.
And finally... Mo Shen's eyes lifted toward the peak ahead of him.
It was darker than the others, yet not loud like the Blood Pavilion, nor silent like the Poison Pavilion.
...That was the Gu Pavilion.
The place where he belonged.
The disciples there cultivated Gu, strange living creatures refined through cruel methods, feeding on poison, flesh, or even other Gu, each one carrying unique and often terrifying abilities.
They nurtured them, controlled them, and sometimes fused with them, walking a path where their strength did not come from their own bodies alone, but from the creatures they raised.
It was a slow path.
A dangerous one.
But also one filled with endless, unpredictable possibilities.
Mo Shen was a part of the Thousand Chittering Peak led by Fengwu Yao, the Sect Master of the Myriad Demon Sect.
Surprisingly, although his talent was truly ordinary... he was one of the three personal disciples of the Sect Master.
But... that title of Personal Disciple wasn't public to the sect; besides, he truly didn't know why he was accepted as her disciple.
After all, she didn't give him any techniques, gifts, or teach him whatsoever.
Instead... she only ordered him to greet her every day and spend exactly fifteen minutes inside her cave boudoir before being thrown out.
"Ugh... Even at the peak of the Qi Refining stage... haaa..." Mo Shen breathed heavily as he finally finished climbing the stairs of the mountain.
"... these damned stairs are still long enough to make me tired!"
He patted his chest lightly, taking a few deep breaths before walking towards his Master's cave boudoir.
After a few more minutes of walking, he finally reached the place where his Master lived.
The cave boudoir stood in front of him, simple at first glance, yet the closer he got, the more he could feel something pressing faintly against his senses, like an invisible presence watching from within.
The surface of the stone doorway was smooth, with faint patterns running along its edges, patterns that seemed ordinary until one stared a little too long and felt a strange discomfort rise in the chest.
He stopped a short distance away.
Thwack!
Bringing his hands together in a respectful salute, he lowered his head slightly and fixed his gaze on the ground in front of him.
He did not call out or announce himself.
In this place, speaking without permission was no different from courting death.
The air remained still, and only after a few seconds had passed, a voice came from within the cave.
"Enter."
The voice was quite soft and charming, carrying a calm tone that did not rise or fall, yet it pressed down on him in a way that made his back straighten without thinking.
Mo Shen did not hesitate.
"Yes, Master."
He stepped forward and crossed into the cave.
The inside of the cave was dim, lit only by a few faint lamps placed along the walls, their light casting slow shadows that swayed gently across the stone.
At the center of the space, a wide stone seat rested, covered in layers of dark silk.
A figure sat there.
Mo Shen allowed his eyes to lift for a brief moment.
Long dark hair flowed down her back like a quiet stream, smooth and unbroken, while her red eyes rested on him without the slightest ripple of emotion.
She wore dark robes that draped loosely over her body, yet still followed her shape in a way that made her presence impossible to ignore.
The sleeves were thin, almost transparent, and through them, the skin of her arms could be seen clearly, marked by countless dark tattoos that twisted and spread in complex patterns, as if they were alive beneath her skin, faintly shifting with each slow breath she took.
Her figure was striking.
She had large, full breasts that the robes could barely pretend to contain, the neckline pulling low under their weight, while her waist remained slim, leading down to long legs that were partially hidden by the folds of her robe.
...She was known as one of the top ten fairies in the Thousand Beauties Ranking.
Fengwu Yao.
Mo Shen lowered his gaze at once.
He did not let his eyes linger or allow his thoughts to wander.
After all, even a small mistake in front of someone like her could end his life before he even realized what he had done.
"This disciple greets Master," he spoke in a calm and respectful voice, bowing his head slightly.
Fengwu Yao did not respond immediately.
Her eyes remained on him, as if she was looking through him rather than at him, examining every part of him without moving at all.
A few breaths passed before she finally spoke.
"You are late by three breaths today."
Her tone remained calm, almost gentle, yet the words carried a sharp edge that made his body tense without him meaning to.
Mo Shen did not hesitate to answer.
"...This disciple apologizes," he replied after a second, taking the time to swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth.
"There was a matter during the mission earlier."
Silence followed his words.
The air seemed to grow heavier, pressing faintly against his chest.
"A matter…" she repeated slowly, as if considering the meaning behind his words.
Then her voice came again.
"Raise your head."
Mo Shen obeyed without delay.
He lifted his head carefully, his eyes rising just enough to meet hers, while keeping a calm expression.
Fengwu Yao watched him in silence, her fingers resting lightly against her cheek, her posture relaxed, as if nothing in the world could disturb her.
After a moment, she spoke again.
"Come closer."
Those words almost made Mo Shen freeze.
She never allowed him to approach her whatsoever.
"...Gulp!"
He couldn't help but swallow hard before finally stepping forward.