Chapter 48

The Nightmare Mind-Devouring Formation shattered, and the scene dispersed...

Song Qingshi opened his eyes to find himself cradled in Yue Wuhuan's arms, both tightly bound by countless Blood King Vines, locking them in an inseparable embrace.

He looked around, realizing they had been transported to a stone cavern by the formation. Others lay scattered, similarly afflicted, their expressions ranging from terror to agony, occasionally screaming, still trapped in nightmares and unable to awaken. Not far off, a middle-aged cultivator, severely injured and his face twisted in panic, clutched an eight-year-old girl tightly, seemingly trying to protect her.

Yue Wuhuan also awoke. He slowly retracted the Blood King Vines, releasing their bonds, then rose. His injuries had vanished, and he appeared to be in excellent condition.

Concerned about Yue Wuhuan's mental state, Song Qingshi retrieved medicine from his mustard seed bag and repeatedly asked, "Are you alright? Is anything bothering you? Do you need a calming pill?"

Yue Wuhuan shook his head. He wasn't particularly bothered by physical pain, so what he felt in the swamp was disgust, not mental collapse. He was somewhat puzzled; if this truly was his nightmare, the foul swamp seemed rather underwhelming.

Without waiting for a reply, Song Qingshi popped a calming pill into Yue Wuhuan's mouth and took one himself, using spiritual energy to hasten the medicine's absorption into their organs. This barely managed to quell the lingering sense of panic.

Suddenly, An Long reached over, snatched the entire bottle of calming pills, and poured them all into his mouth.

Song Qingshi stared blankly for a moment before reacting, "Are you eating them like candy? That's not good for you."

An Long tossed the empty bottle back to him, meditated briefly, and his ghastly complexion improved slightly.

Song Qingshi finally realized An Long was displeased—though this time he wasn't biting anyone, so perhaps it wasn't directed at him? He guessed An Long might have been disgusted by the swamp in the nightmare. Remembering An Long's protection within the formation, he bowed sincerely, "Thank you again for this time."

An Long, controlling his Emotion Lock, forcibly suppressed the madness and rage within him, revealing a ferocious smile. "Between you and me, there's no need for thanks."

*No mistakes allowed...*

Song Qingshi suddenly noticed An Long's eyes had turned red in the dim light. Worried, he was about to ask when An Long subtly lowered his head. When he looked up again, his eyes had returned to normal. An Long then suggested, "Shall we dismantle this harmful formation?"

Demolition was his specialty.

"Wait." Song Qingshi stood on tiptoe, pulled An Long's head closer, and ordered him to open his eyes wide. After scrutinizing for a long time and finding nothing amiss, he wondered if he had imagined it.

Yue Wuhuan proposed, "Master, let's save the people first."

"Alright." Song Qingshi immediately left An Long and began examining the unconscious cultivators one by one. They were all still trapped in nightmares, their spiritual senses severely damaged, with some even fragmenting. Without prompt treatment, they would awaken as madmen or fools.

He used golden needles to channel spiritual energy into the patients' consciousness, stabilizing their chaotic minds and preventing further deterioration.

Yue Wuhuan probed the cavern walls with vines, locating the formation's core connected to the array and identifying the points for its destruction.

An Long whistled silently, and thousands of strange Gu insects emerged from nowhere. Laden with potent toxins, they corroded and gnawed at the stone walls engraved with the formation's core. The formation retaliated, killing the insects, but their corpses turned into venom, accelerating the corrosion. More insects surged forward over their fallen brethren, eventually destroying the core.

With the ancient formation forcibly dismantled, everyone's nightmares were abruptly ended.

Fearing they might awaken screaming in madness, An Long administered a sleep-inducing Gu to each, keeping them unconscious.

Song Qingshi rummaged through his mustard seed bag, only to find no calming pills left. He shot a resentful glance at the culprit who had devoured them all but didn't dare scold him. He then searched Yue Wuhuan's belongings and found some usable tranquilizing powder. He dissolved it in clean water and administered it to everyone. Afterward, he had An Long remove the Gu formation on the shore and called for representatives from various sects to retrieve their people.

Yue Wuhuan suddenly spoke, "Master, come look."

Song Qingshi approached and saw that after the vines and moss were cleared from the wall, several sword marks were exposed—thin yet unfathomably deep, each carrying immense hatred, as if sworn to slaughter all under heaven.

This was the Sword Technique of Mo Yuan Sword Sovereign, his grief, his madness...

Yue Wuhuan stared at these sword intents, utterly transfixed.

Song Qingshi, uninterested in swordplay, wandered around and stumbled upon a decayed wooden box on the ground. As he picked it up, the box crumbled, revealing a beautiful red Phoenix Blood gemstone and a tattered slip of paper.

Overjoyed, Song Qingshi recognized the gem as Phoenix Blood, one of the most exquisite and valuable gemstones in the immortal realm. Wearing it nourished the dantian and aided cultivation. This piece was top-grade, worth at least 100,000 high-grade spirit stones. He had once coveted it at a treasure pavilion, longing to buy it for Yue Wuhuan but lacking the funds. Now that Medicine King Valley was prosperous under Yue Wuhuan’s management, he had the money but feared being scolded for reckless spending.

Before he could unfold the slip of paper, it crumbled to dust with age.

Song Qingshi only managed to glimpse two words: "No solution."

The hastily scrawled handwriting... seemed oddly similar to his own.

*Probably a coincidence.*

Shaking off idle thoughts, Song Qingshi decided to present the Phoenix Blood to Yue Wuhuan later as a surprise, noticing he was still immersed in comprehending the sword intent and shouldn’t be disturbed.

After what felt like an age, Yue Wuhuan finally emerged from his trance, his voice hoarse, "Over the years, I’ve read many books about Mo Yuan Sword Sovereign, yet none recorded his appearance, origins, or demise. After the Demon Subjugation War 8,000 years ago, he disappeared without a trace."

Song Qingshi thought back and realized it was true—no records existed.

Yue Wuhuan traced the sword marks on the wall, and gave a bitter smile, "I once speculated, and now... seeing these sword intents, I’m certain. Mo Yuan Sword Sovereign went mad. This Nightmare Mind-Devouring Formation exacerbated his insanity, pushing him past the brink..."

Mo Yuan Sword Sovereign’s era was ancient history now, with little relevance to the present.

Song Qingshi didn’t understand why Yue Wuhuan cared so much.

"It’s nothing," Yue Wuhuan said lightly, noticing his confusion. "I was merely curious about the fate of a sword sovereign born a mortal and wanted to piece together the truth."

Song Qingshi let out a relieved sigh, "I’ll help you investigate."

"No need," An Long interjected, having reappeared unnoticed. Hearing their topic, he scoffed, "The Ten Thousand Poisons Sect has records. After the Demon Subjugation War, Mo Yuan Sword Sovereign succumbed to demonic corruption, ravaging cities in a blood-soaked rampage. Buddhist masters allied with major sects to exterminate him. That’s the end."

Yue Wuhuan froze, speechless.

Song Qingshi asked, puzzled, "Wasn’t Mo Yuan Sword Sovereign a good person? The ancient texts I read praised his heroic deeds."

An Long explained, "The cause of his fall remains unknown, and the truth was suppressed. In the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect, only the sect leader can access the scant records. It mentions that several Nascent Soul Ancestors perished in the battle, and only a Soul Division Grandmaster could finally slay him, after which the matter was forbidden to be spoken of."

Eight millennia had passed. Those involved had either ascended or perished.

The truth was lost to the sands of time.

...

Remembering the Phoenix Blood, Song Qingshi, ever scrupulous, quietly pulled An Long aside and whispered, "I recall you dislike such things. Later, I’ll gather the remains of the Water Spirit Beast, combine them with Heavenly Silk Grass, and refine Supreme Beast Spirit Pills for you. If it’s not enough, I’ll compensate with spirit stones. Is that alright?"

An Long’s expression darkened, "I don’t remember you liking such trinkets either."

Song Qingshi gave a sheepish grin, "I’m giving it to someone."

An Long knew exactly who. He closed his eyes and murmured, "Mm."

Jealousy festered like poison; killing intent spread rapidly. The voices in his mind grew louder.

He could only shut his eyes, ears, and mind.

*No mistakes allowed...*

...

After receiving healing protocols from Song Qingshi, representatives from various sects paid their dues and took their disciples away. The remaining unaffiliated cultivators were kindly taken in by Buddhist monks. The junior disciples of Crimson Dragon Sect reunited with their master and seniors, clutching each other, laughing and weeping, their gratitude overflowing—a testament to their deep bond, enough to move anyone to tears.

The sect master of the Crimson Dragon Sect was the middle-aged cultivator holding the child. Despite being severely injured by the Water Spirit Beast, he still managed to protect his disciples unscathed—a rare and noble master.

Song Qingshi snuck a glance at his own beloved disciple, hoping he might be moved by such touching master-disciple affection...

Unfortunately, Yue Wuhuan didn’t even glance at the scene, focusing solely on gathering the remains of the Water Spirit Beast.

Song Qingshi couldn’t help feeling a little deflated...

An Long said he was dying for a drink and took off without a word as soon as they reached shore.

Used to his eccentric temper, Song Qingshi brushed it off. Seeing the Crimson Dragon Sect master’s critical injuries and admiring his conduct, he volunteered to stay and treat him, while also seeking advice on how a master could earn a disciple’s devotion. The sect’s disciples were overjoyed by his decision, practically ready to roll out the red carpet.

Seeing him happy, Yue Wuhuan stayed behind to assist.

...

Deep in the night, the dense forest rang with the harsh cries of ravens.

An Long sat alone in the darkness, clawing at his head in agony. His eyes glowed blood-red, as if ready to spill, while black scales spread across his face. Beneath the five-poison tattoo on his arm, snakes of dark mist writhed, his limbs twisting in mutation before being forcibly suppressed.

The eerie voice he thought long gone crawled back into his mind, speaking relentlessly—each word like a knife to the heart. He didn’t want to listen, yet couldn’t escape it.

"Do you think groveling and begging for scraps of his attention will make him like you?"

"Do you think gaining power and shielding him from storms will make him like you?"

"Do you think risking your life and climbing to the top will make him like you?"

"Do you think enduring every humiliation and baring your heart will make you worthy of his affection?"

"Do you think that night he knocked on your door, he meant to entertain your fantasies? How laughable you were then… forced to sacrifice your spies to bury the truth—so pathetic it hurts to look..."

"Every time you struggle with the Illusion Gu, chasing a pipe dream—has any illusion ever given you the ending you crave? Why do you wake? No matter what you do, no matter how you force it… he will never love you."

"You’re nothing but a hideous worm crawling from the filth, wrapped in borrowed skin, parroting human speech, pretending to be something you’re not. Who do you think you are, reaching for the moon? Do you even deserve it?"

"Wake up. Abandon this human soul."

"Wake up. Take, covet, destroy, kill—that is your true nature..."

"..."

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" An Long smashed his head against the stone in frenzy, wishing he could crack his skull open and tear out the voice within. "Get out of my mind!"

*He couldn’t make a mistake...*

*Couldn’t make a mistake...*

*Couldn’t...*