Chapter 84: Frequent Incidents on Moonlit Nights

Ji Yao and Dongfang Shun both witnessed the scene unfold, exchanging glances without either of them making a sound. Yet the single remaining flying sword, unwilling to stay silent, let out a resonant hum that shattered the passive quiet, making it impossible to ignore.

Ji Yao thought that if flying swords had spirits, the spirit of this sword would now be wearing a look of utter disdain—or perhaps one of absolute self-confidence. Regardless, since the sword had made itself known, as its master, Dongfang Shun was naturally obliged to offer an explanation.

“So this is what you meant by choosing a suitable flying sword?” Ji Yao remarked pointedly, her gaze flickering to the pile of sword corpses on the ground.

At that moment, Dongfang Shun felt as if the newly acquired sword in his hand was burning hot—awkward to hold, yet even more awkward to put away—leaving his throat uncomfortably tight.

“I didn’t expect things to turn out like this…”

“So, it’s not just any of the others, only yours that matters. As it turns out, this is the kind of ‘casual’ you meant!” Ji Yao glanced at the sword in Dongfang Shun’s hand, gave a self-mocking laugh, and promptly collected all the broken swords from the ground.

“I’m taking these with me. You don’t mind, do you?” Of course, even if he objected, she had no intention of returning them.

Having gathered all the broken swords, Ji Yao strolled around the mountain peak, circling it once before returning to where she started. She lifted her head, staring blankly at the now bare cliff face.

Dongfang Shun watched Ji Yao’s slender back, unable to voice any protest, but also unable to offer comfort. Only after a long while did he find his voice again.

“If I obtain anything else of value in the land of inheritance, I’ll share some of it with you.”

Ji Yao, who outwardly seemed lost in thought, heard Dongfang Shun’s words clearly. She had no reason to refuse—after all, she had wasted time coming here, so it was only right to leave with some reward.

“We’ll settle this after we leave the secret realm,” Ji Yao said without turning back, continuing to search the cliff face.

Since this place was Dongfang Shun’s destined opportunity, there was nothing here for her. It would be better to trade for something else once she was out, perhaps that communication array disk Dongfang Shun used.

“Where’s that exit you mentioned?” she asked. Not wanting to endure another blow, Ji Yao decided it was best not to follow this calculating protagonist on his treasure hunt. It seemed the better his luck, the worse hers became.

At this point, the wisest course was to leave quickly and make the most of her time seeking her own chance for survival. Who knew—if Dongfang Shun encountered something good, it might simply change hands.

“Tai’e conveyed to me that there’s a one-way teleportation array at the summit of this mountain. It can send one person out.”

“Tai’e?” The name was familiar to her.

What puzzled Ji Yao was not the name itself, but the fact that a flying sword could transmit its intentions to its master. That was no small feat—it had to be at least a spirit-grade sword.

Clearly, Dongfang Shun misunderstood her question and nodded in explanation. “Yes, this sword is called the Tai’e Sword.”

“It’s developed a sword spirit?” Ji Yao decided to clarify.

“No, it’s just a vague exchange of consciousness between sword and master.” Dongfang Shun stroked the blade, evidently pleased.

That meant this sword still had great potential. With the right opportunity, it might one day develop an intelligent spirit.

The Tai’e Sword Ji Yao knew was a blade of mighty prestige. Now, recalling the pile of broken swords, she began to understand. No wonder this place was called a Sword Tomb. Even such a young, unformed flying sword had learned the art of burial. She wondered what kind of care its former master had given it.

But with the mountain so high and her unable to fly, reaching the summit would indeed be a challenge.

“Alright, you go. The sooner you accept your inheritance, the sooner your troubles will be over. I’ll be on my way out.” Ji Yao waved her sleeve at Dongfang Shun, slung her Snowdust Sword across her back, took out her herbalist’s pick, and, channeling spiritual power, drove it into the stone wall. Gripping the cavities left by the flying sword, she leapt upward, scaling the peak.

Dongfang Shun, seeing Ji Yao’s determination and seemingly effortless progress, realized time was pressing. Without further hesitation, he turned and jumped into the crevice they had entered through.

With no flying swords left in the Sword Tomb, only the sounds of Ji Yao climbing broke the unusual silence.

Finally free from the teleportation’s dizzying effects and with her feet on solid ground, Ji Yao felt an urge to curse whoever had set up this array. Truly, fate treated people differently. She was sure this so-called teleportation array was not meant for the inheritor.

In just that short distance within the secret realm, the array had spun her through eighteen rounds of fixed cycles before spitting her out in disdain.

Yes, “spitting”—for Ji Yao landed squarely on her backside.

Muttering complaints as she got to her feet, Ji Yao cast several purification spells on herself before looking up at the sky.

They had entered at midnight, but now, with the blazing sun overhead, a third of the time before the secret realm closed had already passed.

Ji Yao surveyed her surroundings and confirmed she was still in the place they had entered from. Without delay, she sped off in the direction she had come.

By the time she returned to the spot she had previously discovered, dusk was falling once more.

Ji Yao felt uneasy. It seemed that, for her, night always brought unusual happenings. Nighttime was a period rife with incidents, compelling her to be extra cautious.

According to Situ Jing, this was a place where she might find the chance to obtain the Heart of Wood, though the specifics were up to her to discover.

Looking around, she saw the trees were not densely packed, nor were they particularly thick or tall. In the open spaces, even the grass was sparse, and the soil was bare and exposed to the air.

After a careful inspection, Ji Yao found nothing out of the ordinary, but unwilling to give up, she decided to rest a while before searching again.

She leaned against a tree, half-closing her eyes as she gazed up at the cloudless night sky. Stars began to twinkle, soon filling the heavens.

Ji Yao didn’t know when she fell asleep. One moment she was keeping alert, counting stars, and the next, she was awakened by the silvery moonlight.

By now the moon was high overhead. She had slept, completely unguarded, beneath a tree for two whole hours—utterly abnormal. Had any beast or malicious cultivator passed by, she would surely have perished.

Moreover, as a cultivator—even if only at the Qi Refining stage—a single sleepless night shouldn’t have left her so exhausted that she could fall asleep anywhere. It simply wasn’t right.

She must have fallen under some kind of moonlit enchantment.

Moonlight? Of course—the moon!

Ji Yao stood up and walked to the clearing. Looking up, she saw a huge, bright full moon, far larger than usual, seeming to press low over the land and casting light bright enough to illuminate everything around her.

The tree she had been resting under was lush and leafy. Normally, sitting beneath it would have placed her entirely in shadow, the moonlight unable to touch her face.

Yet she had clearly been awakened by moonlight shining directly onto her face. Ji Yao glanced back at where she’d been sitting. Amid the dense shadow, a round patch of moonlight was imprinted on the ground.

Something was off. Not just that one patch—her eyes swept the area, quickly scanning the surroundings.

In eight directions, beneath the shadows of the trees, eight distinct phases of moonlight were cast upon the earth.

If the spot where she had sat represented the full moon, then directly opposite must be the new moon’s darkness.

Ji Yao turned—and indeed, she saw a patch of deep shadow, utterly devoid of moonlight.