Chapter 669: This Scoundrel Ultimately Cannot Escape

Chapter 669: Chapter 538: This Scoundrel Ultimately Cannot Escape

Every undead corpse was riddled with wounds, a clear sign they had fought an incredibly brutal battle in life.

“ROAR!”

High in the firmament, the roaring Residual Souls of Ancient Exotic Beasts—Shengyu, Lu Shu, Zhen, Qilin, Tengshe, and more—swooped down upon the Cultivators who had trespassed into the Secret Realm.

“What in the world is happening?!”

“Run!”

“Don’t kill me!”

“Ahhh—!”

“No!”

Shrill, tragic cries rose and fell in succession as one Cultivator after another fell to the undead.

They didn’t recognize any of the Cultivation Techniques the undead used. They belonged to no lineage passed down by any of the world’s current Sects.

Xiao Mo leaped into the air, invoked a technique with a hand seal, and lightly tapped his finger toward the Residual Soul of a True Dragon.

The True Dragon’s Residual Soul froze abruptly. In the next instant, it shattered, dissolving into motes of Spiritual Power that vanished into the air.

Xiao Mo looked down, his gaze grave.

He watched the bodies of the fallen Cultivators. Their blood flowed in ceaseless trickles, seeping in thin rivulets into the cracks in the earth.

The blood spread along the crisscrossing fissures, winding and twisting like serpents.

It was as if someone were using the earth as a canvas, painting an ancient and sinister Array with ink and brush.

As the number of dead Cultivators grew, the fissures in the ground gradually filled with crimson blood, like a dry riverbed welcoming the return of rain.

Xiao Mo slowly began to understand why the three Immortal Realm Cultivators, including Tushan Hongxia, hadn’t sealed off news of this Ancient Secret Realm. Instead, they had announced it to the world.

‘Perhaps the three of them had already uncovered some of the Secret Realm’s Laws,’ he thought. ‘They must have known that a blood sacrifice—the lives of Cultivators—was required to break certain seals buried within this small world.’

“Hold on! We can’t let ourselves become sacrifices!”

Jin’an shouted to Xiao Mo and the others, his voice booming like a great bell.

No one present was a fool.

By now, everyone understood what was happening.

But even so, none of them felt any regret.

The greater the risk, the greater the reward.

If they feared this kind of danger, they would never have made it this far, much less reached the Nascent Soul Realm.

An hour later, of the hundreds of thousands of Cultivators who had recklessly charged into the Secret Realm, fewer than five thousand remained.

The very instant the fissures were completely filled with blood, the seemingly random, chaotic cracks erupted with a blood-red light.

“Below!”

Someone was the first to shout, their voice filled with terror.

In an instant, the earth began to collapse.

An immense suction force surged from deep underground, swallowing every last living Cultivator whole!

Once not a single living soul remained on the surface, the collapsed ground sealed itself shut, reverting to the same stretch of scorched earth it was before.

The undead vanished without a trace, and the corpses of the dead Cultivators silently crumbled into dust, leaving no sign they had ever been there.

A long time passed. Then, a woman in a black dress, her fair ankles bare, slowly set foot upon the scorched ground.

Her skin was as white as snow, a stark contrast to her jet-black gown.

Her hair was so long it grazed her heels, swaying gently with each step like the flowing night itself.

Between her brows was a glittering, golden floral mark.

Her golden eyes belonged to neither the Demon Race nor the Human Race; they were the eyes of a Divine Spirit, aloof and looking down upon all of creation.

She stared coldly into the depths of the earth, toward the very spot where Xiao Mo had just fallen.

After a long silence, the woman finally spoke. Her voice was beautiful, yet her tone was steeped in the weight of countless millennia, a weariness that stretched to the very end of time.

“Sister, you see? This faithless man couldn’t escape after all.”

…

DRIP…

DRIP…

A drop of Spiritual Milk trickled down a stalactite and landed quietly on the back of Xiao Mo’s head, chilling him to the touch.

As Xiao Mo’s consciousness slowly returned, he felt something soft beneath him. It wasn’t the hard, cold ground he expected. It felt more like…

Xiao Mo opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a pair of eyes—the eyes of a fox, utterly bewitching yet tinged with an icy detachment.

Her long, curled eyelashes fluttered as she carefully studied Xiao Mo.

“Miss Gui?” For a moment, Xiao Mo wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. His voice was filled with surprise.

“Mhm.” Gui Junmeng gave a slight nod. Her expression was as placid as still water as she said faintly, “Young Master Xiao, could you please get up? You’re a bit heavy…”

“Oh, my apologies.” Snapping back to his senses, Xiao Mo scrambled to his feet.

Gui Junmeng pushed herself into a sitting position as well, then knelt formally before Xiao Mo.

“Miss Gui, where are we? And why are we together?” Xiao Mo asked, looking around in bewilderment.

“I don’t know,” Gui Junmeng said, shaking her head, her tone still flat. “I only woke up a moment before you did. When I opened my eyes, you were lying on top of me.”

“My apologies… I will not speak a word of this to anyone.” Xiao Mo sighed in resignation. He truly had no intention of besmirching her reputation.

“It matters not. We will be married sooner or later anyway.” Gui Junmeng stood up and casually brushed the dust from her clothes, her tone as light as air.

Xiao Mo did not respond to her comment.

He took out a jade vial and began carefully collecting the Spiritual Milk that dripped steadily from the stalactites.

This Spiritual Milk was likely ten thousand years old. It was immensely beneficial for recovering Spiritual Power, making every last drop precious.

Unfortunately, the Spiritual Milk dripped far too slowly, and every moment they lingered in this unknown Secret Realm increased the danger.

Thus, Xiao Mo only had time to collect two vials before stopping. He handed one to Gui Junmeng.

“Will you accompany me?” Xiao Mo asked.

“Mhm.” Gui Junmeng nodded lightly in assent.

“This way, please.” Xiao Mo gestured for her to follow, then took the lead, guiding her deeper into the ruins.

The farther they walked, the more Xiao Mo felt like they were in an ancient tomb.

The tomb was filled with various burial goods, and they even came across a small, replica marketplace.

The market was lined with the signboards of various stalls and vendors, as well as replicas of restaurants, courtyards, and more.

Stone figures stood silently among the structures, giving the place an indescribably eerie atmosphere.

Amid the marketplace, Xiao Mo and Gui Junmeng found a number of weapons, Array Flags, and some ancient texts.

However, these burial goods were of little interest to them. At most, they copied the contents of a few ancient texts but took nothing else.

The pair passed through the marketplace and continued along the tomb’s main passage.

“Young Master Xiao, look.” Gui Junmeng’s eyes suddenly brightened as she raised a hand and pointed forward.

Xiao Mo followed her gaze. There, on the dark stone walls, were a series of murals.

The brushwork was simple, and after being weathered by the passage of countless millennia, most of the images had become blurry and indistinct.

Still, Xiao Mo could faintly discern thousands upon thousands of Human Race Sword Cultivators riding their Flying Swords, charging resolutely toward a colossal golden Dharma Aspect in the heavens.

Ancient Divine Beasts such as the Azure Dragon, True Phoenix, Black Tortoise, Vermilion Bird, and Tengshe were locked in a deadly struggle with a giant elephant that bore the sun and moon upon its head.

Scholars in green robes held ancient scrolls, forming an array to surround a Military General clad in golden armor.

Monks wielding Zen Staffs and Buddhist Beads chanted scriptures, combining their power to vanquish a giant as massive as a mountain. The giant held a True Dragon crushed in one hand, its maw open as it bit through the dragon’s spine.

Daoists in their robes laid out a profound Array, trapping a woman wreathed in roiling flames.

Xiao Mo and Gui Junmeng continued onward.

Xiao Mo saw a depiction of a man holding a longsword, its tip pointed directly at a woman’s throat.

Xiao Mo could not make out their faces, but the woman’s posture was resolute, her slender neck tilted back as if eagerly awaiting the fatal thrust.

Behind her, two other women—her sisters, perhaps—were lying on their sides, glaring at the swordsman with eyes full of hatred.

In the final mural, the war appeared to be over.

It was impossible to tell who had won or lost the world-shaking war.

But the swordsman stood leaning on his blade, his eyes closed as if he had already passed away.

Before him, five women of the Feathered Clan knelt on one knee, their wings spread wide.

As if respectfully seeing off their master.