I Really Am A Villain

Under an endless rain of starlight, the compass spun faster and faster. As more celestial energy gathered, the image of the Bamboo-Banana Panda took shape above.

A path of starlight appeared before them, a winding star road that stretched through the forest, vanishing into the distance.

“Let’s go,” Xu Zimo said, stepping onto the starry path and following it toward its end.

After running for several minutes, the scenery around them began to change. The dense banana forest slowly transformed into a bamboo grove, lush, green, serene, and elegant.

The air was cool and calm, the bamboo leaves swaying gently in the breeze.

When Xu Zimo and Ji Jiuning arrived, they saw the panda sitting cross-legged atop a bamboo stalk, playing a bamboo flute.

The crisp melody echoed throughout the grove.

With one leg crossed over the other, the panda leaned lazily against the thick bamboo leaves. When it saw them, it opened one eye and grinned.

“Well, well. You actually managed to find me.”

“You seem quite pleased with yourself,” Xu Zimo said calmly.

“This bamboo forest is my territory,” the panda replied. “If you want to leave, you’ll have to please me.”

Before it could finish, a slash of blade energy erupted from Xu Zimo’s hand.

The panda jumped to another bamboo stalk just in time, the one it had been sitting on splitting apart with a crack.

“You people are all so violent!” the panda complained. “Can’t anyone just talk nicely? Poor bamboo…”

Grumbling, it broke off a stalk and began munching on it with a crunch.

“Die, or tell us how to get out,” Xu Zimo said evenly.

“I choose neither,” the panda retorted, sticking out its tongue and bolting into the distance.

“After it!” Xu Zimo ordered, and he and Ji Jiuning gave chase.

Three figures, two in pursuit, one fleeing, raced through the bamboo grove, slicing through countless stalks along the way.

But Xu Zimo soon realized that while the panda’s strength was low, its agility was extraordinary.

It moved through the forest like a shadow, light and swift, blending perfectly with the surroundings.

After some time, Xu Zimo stopped.

The panda stopped too, laughing. “What’s wrong? Tired already?”

Without answering, Xu Zimo raised his hand. A fire lotus of Zhurong’s divine flame bloomed in his palm.

“If we can’t leave,” he said calmly, “then I’ll just burn it all down.”

Zhurong’s fire was the flame born from the Dao itself, so powerful it could even burn through the laws of reality.

No matter what formation or illusion stood before it, one fire would cleanse everything.

When the lotus flared to life, a blinding light illuminated half the sky, and flames crackled throughout the bamboo grove.

“You despicable human!” the panda shrieked, frantically patting at the spreading fire. “If you can’t catch me, why burn my bamboo? What did the little bamboo ever do to you?”

Seeing that the divine fire could not be extinguished, the panda finally slumped to the ground, exhausted.

“Fine, fine! I’ll take you out! Just stop burning it!”

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” Xu Zimo said, waving his hand. The flames vanished instantly, leaving only charred black bamboo behind.

Luckily, the fire hadn’t spread too far, only half the grove was burned.

“This forest was cursed by Lu Sheng,” the panda explained.

“Lu Sheng?” Ji Jiuning frowned. “You mean the saint who fought the White Emperor here and was slain?”

The name Lu Sheng was well-known across the entire Ghost-God Heaven, not only because he had been a Saint Sovereign, but because he was the first known Saint Sovereign ever to be killed.

To kill a Saint Sovereign, whose life and soul were separated and independent, was nearly impossible.

Even if one’s body and spirit were destroyed, as long as the Life-Death Soul remained intact, they would survive.

And yet, the White Emperor had done it.

“That’s right,” the panda continued. “The White Emperor and Lu Sheng fought here long ago. Their battle lasted for years, shaking the entire heaven. In the end, Lu Sheng was slain, and this bamboo forest grew from his hair. Tens of thousands of strands, endless and unbroken. That’s why the forest will never die.”

“Then just tell us how to leave,” Xu Zimo said.

“Sever the three thousand threads of worldly desire, and the true path will reveal itself,” the panda replied cryptically.

Xu Zimo glanced at Ji Jiuning, and both seemed to understand.

They closed their eyes, clearing their minds of distractions.

Though their eyes were shut, their divine sense could still perceive the surroundings.

The bamboo forest around them seemed to fade away, replaced by a single clear path sensed through spirit alone.

“So simple?” Ji Jiuning asked in disbelief.

“The simplest truths are the hardest to grasp,” the panda chuckled softly.

As its voice faded, its figure slowly disappeared among the bamboo.

“This forest was formed from Lu Sheng’s hair,” Xu Zimo murmured. “Then what exactly was that panda?”

But he had little interest in investigating further.

Closing his eyes, clearing his heart, he followed the sensed path and finally walked out of the forest.

The rainforest behind them receded into the distance.

Ahead, a city appeared, surrounded by verdant mountains and clear rivers, like a paradise untouched by time.

Its vast walls stretched toward the horizon.

The streets bustled with apparent life.

“Let’s take a look,” Xu Zimo said.

When he and Ji Jiuning reached the gate, they saw two weathered stone characters carved above it,

“Solitary City.”

“This name doesn’t match the place at all,” Ji Jiuning remarked.

“How could there be a city in the battlefield of final reckoning?”

“Did you notice?” Xu Zimo said quietly, glancing around at the crowd. “None of these people have any vitality.”

Vitality was the essence of life, the living’s spirit and energy.

The dead had none of it; only a stagnant aura of decay.

But these people were different, they had neither life nor death upon them, like puppets on invisible strings.

As Xu Zimo entered the city, the streets appeared lively and bright, but there was no warmth in the air.

“Sir, how much for these oranges?” he asked a nearby vendor casually.

The old man behind the stall smiled, but his eyes were dull, unfocused. He didn’t even glance at Xu Zimo.

Just then, a burly man walked over.

“Old Sun, I’ll take two kilo of oranges,” he said, tossing a few spirit stones onto the counter before grabbing a handful of fruit.