Though quickly, Zheng Xie reverted his eyes back. Focusing them on the trembling Chu Fu, he spared her a single, fleeting glance.
"There is no benefit in wasting time here. The shadows have receded, but who can say for how long? If we linger, we gamble our lives. It will be more beneficial if we keep moving forward."
Under his calm but sharp gaze, Chu Fu's whimpering ceased. Her trembling lips pressed together, and her breathing grew shallow, restrained.
Her eyes dared to drift back toward the darkness behind them, but her mind and body rebelled at once, warning her of what lurked there.
Frozen, her heart unwilling, she still did the only thing she deemed necessary and advantageous. She followed Zheng Xie.
His back remained turned to her. His eyes, however, were anything but idle. They swept the surroundings with sharp vigilance, probing every crevice and jagged edge of this strange environment.
What stretched out before them was a land that bore the likeness of a cavern, though not quite. The ground was riddled with uneven stone, glistening faintly with veins of minerals.
The walls arched like the ribs of some ancient beast, vast and enclosing, their surface marred by unfamiliar symbols.
But the unsettling truth was this: it was not a cavern. This structure jutted upward from the desert sands without warning. Its mere existence carried with it an oppressive weight that declared it unnatural.
And in a desert of all places, such a thing could never be considered normal.
Especially not in the context of a secret realm.
Secret realms were domains carved apart from reality, places woven with mysteries beyond human comprehension. They were crafted by ancient cultivators, or left behind by forces that no longer bore names in mortal tongues.
They were never what they seemed. They promised opportunity, but opportunity walked hand in hand with peril. They were dangerous, always, and yet, they were fulfilling, always. To risk was to reap, and to reap was to ascend.
Zheng Xie's gaze lingered on the walls, cold and predatory. Though he looked for danger, his thoughts also prowled for something else—treasures. But with each turn of his eyes, with each inch of stone that revealed nothing, disappointment mounted.
Seemingly, his luck was not standing by his side today.
Which was odd, considering he had a lady with him.
So much for "lady luck." At the end of the day, it was only a superstition.
"Ahm… Sir," Chu Fu's voice broke the silence, her tone hesitant, strained. "What are we supposed to do now? This place feels… eerie, yes, and empty, but it is still better than the corridors from before."
Her steps faltered for a moment as she gathered the courage to continue.
"If… if I am not being presumptuous… perhaps we could wait here. My fellow disciples will surely search for me. They would not abandon me, surely, they would try to find us. And it would be better—"
"Lady," Zheng Xie interrupted, his lips curling into a faint smile. The smile was not kind. His tone, though still polite, carried with it a subtle flicker. "I think you are being presumptuous."
Chu Fu's eyes dilated.
"But not," Zheng Xie continued, stepping toward her with measured calm, "for considering such a thought. Instead, you are presumptuous… because you entertain the notion that your fellow brethren would even attempt to save you."
His voice lowered as his eyes sharpened, cutting into her illusions.
"Think carefully. I am trapped here with you."
He leaned forward ever so slightly, his presence pressing upon her like a coiled serpent ready to strike. His voice slid into her ears, smooth and venomous, as though a snake had chosen her heart as its den.
"Would it not be the better choice… to leave you here, alone with me, while they seize the opportunity to ascend to the upper island?"
The words coiled within her, each syllable tightening around her chest until she could barely breathe. Her throat tightened, and though she longed to refute him, her mind betrayed her. For deep inside, she knew—it was the better choice.
Leaving her behind was logical.
Leaving her behind was safe.
Leaving her behind… was survival.
Zheng Xie's smile deepened, cruel in its serenity.
"To try and save you… would that not simply invite peril upon themselves?"
He circled her slowly. His gaze flicked across her trembling hands, her paling lips, the way her knees threatened to buckle.
"I am certain," he said at last, his voice sinking into a dangerous whisper, "that they are not fools. They would not risk their lives for one who is already lost. Not when doing so would place them directly in my jaws."
Her heart hammered in her chest, her ears ringing as his words reverberated inside her.
"I mauled one of their friends," Zheng Xie reminded her softly, each word deliberate, each word steeped in venom. "Did they not hide then? Did they not leave her to her fate? Do you truly believe they will act differently now?"
Chu Fu could no longer find her own words. Her lips trembled, but no sound escaped. All she could do was lower her gaze, her silence confirming the truth she did not wish to admit.
His words buzzed in her ears like venomous bees, relentless, inescapable.
"Your best bet is to cooperate with me. Help me… and help yourself to get out of here." Zheng Xie pointed his forefinger at the girl, then turned it back toward himself. His voice rang sharp, not loud but edged with the weight of inevitability. "Though you should already understand—this choice of yours will put your brethren in danger."
The words were as simple as they were merciless: protect herself and live, or cling to her pride and sacrifice herself for the sake of others.
Chu Fu lowered her head. Her small fingers twitched, curling tightly into fragile fists. Her delicate figure trembled faintly, like a bird caught in the cold wind, unable to decide whether to flee or stand frozen.
Then, suddenly, she exhaled, her shoulders relaxed. She raised her head slowly, forcing herself to meet Zheng Xie's unblinking eyes. Her voice quivered, yet beneath it lay the clarity of her decision.
"Sir, even if I were to cooperate with you, once we ascend… once we leave this cavern, you will kill me, and my fellow disciples along with me. No matter how I choose, I am already doomed. Since death is inevitable, should I not use this chance to protect them, at the very least?"
The cavern fell into silence.
Her words, simple as they were, hovered like frost in the air. Even the pale auroran lights seeping through the cracks in the stone seemed to hesitate, flickering faintly.
Zheng Xie did not reply immediately. He stood there, watching her with an expression carved of stone. His lips did not move, yet the weight of his gaze alone pressed down on her shoulders.
For several beats, silence reigned.
Then—
Swoosh—!
Zheng Xie's hand cut through the air and clamped down on Chu Fu's throat. The motion was effortless, natural. His grip tightened, fingers like iron hooks pressing into the fragile flesh of her neck.
He leaned in, his face a cold mask, his voice like thunder rolling low through the cavern.
"So… you have chosen to be a nuisance."
The cavern walls seemed to hum with his words, the eerie lights overhead pulsing faintly as though even the air itself acknowledged his authority.
"Augh—! Akhh—!"
Chu Fu's eyes bulged as she choked out broken sounds. Her body thrashed, flailing desperately against the suffocating hold. Her fists struck his chest, his arms, even his face, each blow carrying all the frantic strength of a cornered animal.
Yet Zheng Xie stood unmoving. Her struggles left no mark on him. Her fists, her nails, her desperate kicks—they were nothing more than the fluttering of moth wings against an obsidian wall.
Her vision began to blur. Air drained from her lungs, every second carving away her vitality. The sparkle in her eyes dimmed. Her frantic protests weakened, turned sluggish, then frail.
Her hands, once striking in panic, trembled and fell to her sides.
Her head lolled.
And then—she stopped moving altogether.
Thud—!
Zheng Xie released his grip without ceremony. Her body crumpled to the ground, colliding against the jagged stone floor. The sharp edges tore into her skin, shattering the fragile beauty of her face.
Blood spilled freely, pooling beneath her. White froth gathered at the corner of her lips, mixing with the crimson into a grotesque and pitiful blend.
Her body was still.
Dead still.
And yet—faint, raspy breaths whispered through the cavern, proving that life, however fragile, still clung to her.
Zheng Xie stared down at her prone form. His gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer, unreadable, a fleeting shadow of something unknown flickered in the depths of his eyes.
But just as quickly, it was gone.
He turned.
Step— Step—
His black boots echoed softly as he walked deeper into the cavern, his back a looming silhouette retreating into the distance.
Behind him, Chu Fu's blurred gaze followed weakly. Her world was collapsing—sounds receded into dull hums, colors drained into grayness, her body felt unbearably heavy.
The last thing she saw before her eyelids fell was his departing figure, diminishing into the shadows.
Darkness claimed her.
…
Drip. Drip.
Zheng Xie's footsteps halted.
Before him, illuminated by the faint auroran glow, stood a grotesque sculpture unlike anything he had ever laid eyes on.
It was… a monstrosity, forged entirely from what appeared to be human nerves. Countless sinews coiled and twined, knotted and entangled in an abominable harmony, as though each thread had been plucked directly from the body of a living being and bound together with deliberate malice.
Together, they formed a figure. The size of an adult human, but warped beyond recognition.
A single skull, its bone pale and gleaming wet. One eye socket, in which a trembling orb twitched, bloodshot and rolling. No mouth, no jaw, only the smooth curve of bone where expression should be.
And from its back…
Dozens of wing-like appendages spread outward, jagged and uneven, formed entirely of writhing nerve strands. They shuddered faintly, as if still alive, pulsing in grotesque rhythm.
Drip. Drip.
Fresh blood seeped continuously from the fibers, running down in slow rivulets, dyeing the ground beneath crimson.
The smell hit him next—raw, metallic, cloying. The unmistakable stench of slaughter, of nerves torn from flesh, of blood ripped screaming from the body.
Zheng Xie's gut twisted.
A foul, bitter taste rose in his throat, coating his tongue. He clenched his jaw tightly, his expression turning sharp, ugly, revolted.
For all that he had seen in this world of cruelty and cultivation, this thing, this abomination, was a different breed altogether.
Yet.
His gaze lingered on it, unwilling yet unable to look away.