35: Chapter 35: Destruction of the Hated 35: Chapter 35: Destruction of the Hated “…Who are you?”
Having been sowhat imrsed in mories of the past, An Jing quickly ca to his senses.
He didn’t answer the question and instead countered, “Why do you ask?”
[What is it that you desire?] The voice continued to inquire softly, paying no heed to An Jing’s question.
An Jing narrowed his eyes; he suddenly began to laugh: “I see.
So this is the Ritual Sacrifice?”
He said mockingly, “Subdue Evil, wasn’t that the Heavenly Demon you slayed?
How is it that it’s not dead yet?”
[Ha, a re defeated foe, nothing more than a remnant soul hiding away,] the Sword Spirit rarely displayed emotion.
It sneered and then earnestly instructed An Jing: [Continue the Ritual Sacrifice.
I must concentrate fully to seek the whereabouts of my fragnts; I can’t help you for the ti being.]
“Understood.” An Jing now clearly sensed that the other eight individuals connected to his spirit had fallen into various desires.
For example, Gu Yeqi, who considered him an older brother, yearned to return to the Northern Border, bringing back ample food to her father’s side and finding her missing mother, so that the family could enjoy a hearty al together.
For so reason, she even had his likeness in her dreams.
For example, the little dwarf Qin Yunye, she trained the hardest so that she could grow a bit taller and beco a bit stronger.
That way, in the future, she could protect her parents and loved ones, kill those evil people, and not be hidden under pine needles, helplessly watching her parents being killed and devoured by bandits.
And then there was Cang Linzu; he loved practicing martial arts and simply desired a peaceful place to train and enough opponents to sharpen and improve himself.
The life at Hanging Fate Manor was what he most desired: his days filled with training, cultivating, sparring, eating, and sleeping.
If possible, he could live like this for a lifeti without a complaint.
If possible…
Cang Linzu also wanted to challenge himself.
He didn’t believe that he would win, but he wanted to gain his own recognition.
Seeing this, An Jing couldn’t help but shake his head slightly; he had already recognized these companions of his.
It’s just that, he might have appeared sowhat aloof in order to conceal his true capabilities.
And there were others, other familiar people.
Having led the team for over three months, An Jing couldn’t claim to know them through and through, but he was quite familiar with their pasts.
These desires, these pursuits, these aversions, they all unfolded before his eyes like text on a page.
As the team mbers gradually sunk deeper into the Illusionary Realm, streams of dark Demonic Qi surged into their hearts and spirits, dragging them deeper.
That was the Demonic Qi contained within the demon at.
Without Demonic Qi as a lure, the Heavenly Demon couldn’t bewitch them.
Therefore, from the very beginning, those who were easily influenced by Demonic Qi were eliminated.
But this was not a ‘waste’, because Demonic Qi could also induce a spontaneous reaction in a person’s Heavenly Mandate, manifesting Divine Abnormality and becoming raw material for ‘great dicines’.
At the sa ti, even those who could resist the Demonic Qi, taking demon at for so long could lead to an excess accumulation of Demonic Qi in their bodies, making their spirits easily capturable by the Heavenly Demon.
Such a result would inevitably lead to death, a death that An Jing could not save, a fate that had already been sealed.
Fortunately, ever since An Jing learned the true nature of the demon at, he had been secretly teaching his team mbers ditative Tranquility Cultivation, dissolving the demonic notions within their hearts.
Because they didn’t need to accompany An Jing in extra training, and could rest during Quiet Cultivation, everyone practiced earnestly.
Therefore, the Demonic Qi within the first group was not excessive, at least not a death sentence.
Not to ntion, there were chains of the Ritual Sacrifice connecting them to each other, which allowed them to pull each other back and slow the rate of their fall—Each person’s mind could help others walk out of so mazes they couldn’t escape by themselves.
This was the essence of ‘teammates’.
However, the effectiveness of teammates also had its limits.
Unless their own souls shone brightly, otherwise, as the Ritual Sacrifice proceeded, An Jing was certain that at least one mber of his group would be completely eroded by the Demonic Qi.
On the contrary, his own soul was clear and bright, extrely lucid, and completely unaffected by the Ritual Sacrifice.
[What is it that you desire?] The voice asked once more, and countless illusions surged forth from the darkness.
In so, An Jing returned to the Northern Border where there were no Frost Calamities, no Barbarian Armies; he and his parents lived a peaceful life at their old ho, becoming a renowned rchant family far and wide.
In others, An Jing mastered the Martial Scripture of his family, his Inner Breath fully developed.
He decided to travel the world to find his Fate Pattern, and his parents were bidding him farewell.
In another, An Jing had studied the eight texts and thirteen scriptures, embarked on the path of academic examinations, and successively beca a Scholar, a successful candidate in the imperial examinations, then entered Shenjing, plucked a Talisman, t with the Saint, and obtained immortality.
And there were many more An Jings, each with different attire, physique, age, and temperant, yet with slight similarities—like endless derivatives across infinite parallel realities, branching out infinitely.
Yet, An Jing remained clear-eyed throughout, undisturbed.
Because he knew very well that these were not him, not the choices he would make.
Because he was not just an ordinary youth from the Northern Border, he was soone with Innate Wisdom, the wisdom of another world.
Besides, he had the recognition of a Sword Spirit and could go to another world.
The choices he would make, the path he would step upon, could never be so ordinary.
[What do you despise?] That voice seed to have noticed this and changed the question.
This ti, one by one, specific shadows and objects erged: cauliflower, carrots, the vagabond who had tricked him into buying candied haws when he was a child, the picky horse that also spat…
These shadows were very hazy, all fleeting and indistinct mories.
An Jing rely frowned and then let out a smile of realization, “So, it turns out that neither I nor the horse like to eat carrots and cauliflower.”
However, the people and objects that materialized next were more tangible, causing An Jing’s casual smile to gradually fade, and his expression turned solemn.
He saw them.
The bandits who lit the county town on fire, plundering supplies.
——The bloody knives.
The starving people who traded lives for cooking flesh and blood.
——The gnawed bones.
The guards who stood high and refused passage.
——The kneeling people.
The gentry who bribed the soldiers and drove away the disaster-stricken folk.
——That disdainful and disgusted look.
And…
the most important.
The dead children, the dicinal Vat on a rainy night, that dungeon, the tragic state in the dreams.
——The faces of those lives who died unknowingly, forgotten, and who still wandered until the end of their lives.
Shadow after shadow, each object whether vague or clear.
They were either abstract or concrete, sotis a simple gaze, other tis a specific True Person.
Screams, white bones.
Wailing, flesh and blood.
Swords, skeletons.
Gaze, forgotten.
Jackals, wolves, tigers, leopards, back-to-back natural disasters, none as impenetrable as the tightly closed city gates.
Wars and slaughters, life-and-death calamities, none as fading as the gradual oblivion.
At this mont, An Jing couldn’t laugh anymore.
Faced with Heavenly Mandate, he didn’t care, because he didn’t believe in the illusory future, only in the path beneath his own feet.
In the face of desires, he wasn’t concerned, because what he wanted was far better than what this dark reality has shown.
But…
faced with these people and things he despised, those arrogant and overlooking gazes, those that made him angry and heartbroken, sad and reluctant, the reality he was powerless to change and unwilling to ignore…
He couldn’t overlook it, couldn’t be indifferent.
Couldn’t let go.
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