146. Dream

"Master, what are we going to do now?" asked a young girl of about seventeen, her brows furrowed slightly as she looked up at the towering, sheer cliffs before them, her steps hesitant.

"We go forward, Senior Brother is still being hunted." A voice came from the side, deep and composed.

The young girl looked troubled. "But... isn't this the Red Pine Mountains? The demonic beasts roam these parts, so won't we..."

"This..." The speaker paused, their expression growing grave.

All around them lay a desolate wasteland where grass refused to grow and rivers had run dry. Surrounding the towering mountains were dark, jagged peaks that rose like towering sentinels, leaving only a narrow strip of sky visible overhead.

Just ahead, the fierce battle between the Righteous Path and the Demonic Sect had shattered the terrain. Though the area was now secure, stragglers from the demonic side who had escaped the initial purge still lingered, striking out at any moment, hunting down stragglers, and leaving whenever they pleased.

And the master and disciple standing here were just such stragglers.

Seeing his master fall silent, the girl whispered: "Master, should we turn back? The herbs we gathered are already..."

She left the sentence unfinished, but her intent was clear. The cliffs before them stretched endlessly upward, with towering peaks guarding every path and demonic beasts prowling the vicinity. What other choice did they have? When they had first learned of Senior Brother's plight, they had rushed over immediately, intending to leave right after finding him. But they had been delayed by the Demonic Sect's patrols, unable to move freely for days.

Clinging to a sliver of hope, they had pressed deeper into the treacherous mountains, searching every nook and cranny to see if they could find any miraculous medicinal herbs.

By the time they reached this place, the spiritual herb they sought most had already been plucked by someone else. The girl sighed, "Oh well, Master, it seems Senior Brother is destined..." To possess a miraculous herb was one thing, but whether its medicinal properties could still work was another matter entirely.

Her master, however, paid her no mind. His full attention was fixed on a figure lying motionless on the path ahead, wondering what had happened to them.

Before she could reply, the girl let out a soft gasp: "Master..."

"Disciple, look over there." The master spoke in a deep voice. Pointing toward the pile of rubble by the roadside, he revealed a pale, bloodless profile.

"Ah?!" The girl cried out, "Is... is he dead?"

Without answering, her master stepped forward. He knelt by the body, his palm brushing lightly across the wounds, revealing a hardened, terrifying gash.

"Phew..." The girl exhaled, her eyes wide. "So he's dead."

From the looks of it, the conclusion was all too obvious.

A heavy sword hung at the dead man's waist, its hilt adorned with intricate carvings that clearly marked him as a member of the Righteous Path, likely hunted down and killed by cultivators of the Demonic Sect.

The master let out a low sigh, reaching out to close the dead man's unblinking eyes. Suddenly, as his fingers brushed the cooling flesh, he revealed a look of profound astonishment.

The girl gasped, "Master, what is it? Is he not dead?"

Without a word, her master extended two fingers. He pressed them against the man's chest, right over his heart, where a faint, erratic pulse could barely be felt.

"How can this be?" The girl exclaimed, her voice trembling. "He... he's still breathing?"

"Quiet, disciple." The master's voice was low and steady as he immediately reached into his pouch, pulled out a medicinal pellet, and forced it between the man's lips, using his inner qi to help guide the medicine down. Soon, color began to return to the man's ashen face, and a faint, steady breathing resumed.

"Ma... Master..." The girl stammered, staring in disbelief at the corpse brought back to life.

With the situation as it was, the answer was already clear.

A man carrying a heavy sword, lying on the path of slaughter, was clearly a righteous cultivator hunted down by the Demonic Sect.

Her master let out a long breath, standing up from the ground to dust off his robes.

A hint of hesitation crossed his weathered face. The girl hesitated as well, murmuring, "Master, that... that person..."

"That person has just suffered severe injuries from the Demonic Sect," her master interrupted calmly, his eyes sweeping across the surroundings. "And his wounds are far worse than ours. If we leave him here, he will surely die."

"Pardon?" The girl blinked, unable to process his train of thought. How could they possibly care about a stranger's life when they were already struggling to survive?

Her master continued unhurriedly: "Since this senior brother needs healing, and we happen to know the secret paths through the Red Pine Mountains left behind by the Demonic Sect, once he recovers, he can help protect us. With him around, our chances of safely escorting your senior brother out of here will be much greater."

As for how they would leave—following the very paths the Demonic Sect used—the master's words made the girl's eyes light up. "You're right, Master! Let's save him then!"

Her master nodded, a faint smile touching his lips.

***

Meanwhile.

Deep within the abyss, devoid of light and sound, even the twitch of a finger felt like an insurmountable task.

Consciousness flickered dimly, like a candle in a storm, drifting through a boundless expanse of darkness, untethered and weightless.

He felt as though his entire body had been shattered into a thousand pieces, each fragment hanging in the void, swaying in the chilling wind.

The howling winds were like blades, cutting through bone and marrow.

The boundless, crushing darkness pressed down from all sides, staining the void with a deep, suffocating crimson.

A ghastly figure with long, disheveled hair hovered in the darkness, grinning hideously, every strand of its hair burning with a ghostly green flame.

Just as his consciousness was about to fade completely, a sudden surge of warmth rushed into his body.

"Senior Brother, are you alright?" A pale, delicate face materialized before his eyes, its features shifting and blurring until they finally stabilized into a familiar outline.

The coldness that had gripped his heart melted away instantly. He wanted to open his mouth and curse, "Turn around, you idiot! What are you dawdling for?!"

Instead, a real voice rang out, cold and mocking: "Oh? Are you finally awake?"

"You—!" The master's fury flared instantly, though he was too weak to utter a full sentence.

Naturally, no one answered him. Instead, a bolt of lightning descended, shattering the illusion before him as if it were fragile glass, tearing through the endless darkness and burning away the crimson mist.

This was no ordinary pain; it was the agony of soul-tearing, the torment of the spirit being flayed alive, the endless torment of the abyss tearing his spiritual core apart, scattering his consciousness into the wind. Yet, he was forced to remain anchored within the endless sea of fire, enduring it all.

The master, however, stood his ground, his body shrouded in a faint, ethereal glow. With every breath he drew, he resisted the immense pressure of the abyss, standing firm amidst the howling winds.

Beneath his feet, the howling gales churned violently, crashing against his spiritual barrier like waves against a cliff.

On one side was the relentless destruction of the abyss, and on the other was the scorching heat of the flames.

Suddenly, a figure plummeted from above, cutting through the darkness like a falling star. Before the master could even react, the falling figure crashed straight into his protective barrier, shattering it instantly.

"What?!" The master's pupils contracted as he raised two fingers, shouting, "Unauthorized entry! Demon, stay your hand!"

A pair of bright, piercing eyes suddenly snapped open in the darkness. But instead of the expected terror, the intruder let out a clear, mocking laugh: "I'm already here, what are you going to do about it?"

"So it was you all along?!" The master pointed an accusing finger at the figure, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "You..."

"Old friend?"

The entire space froze for a single instant. Time seemed compressed to a fraction of a second before shattering completely. The master's consciousness plunged into darkness once more, his vision swimming violently as he lost all awareness, his body drifting stiffly through the freezing gale.

A wave of ecstatic joy washed over the girl. She reached out, grabbing frantically at the falling figure.

Before her fingers could even graze him, she froze.

A sharp, silver blade materialized out of thin air, piercing straight through the space between her fingers and plunging deep into the ground beside her.

Her hand stopped mid-air.

Looking down at the cold blade resting inches from her fingertips, the girl let out a shaky sigh of mingled relief and dread: "Why does every person we save always try to kill us?"

Her master remained silent, his gaze fixed quietly on the tip of the sword.

After a long silence, the master sighed, "Perhaps it's just our fate..." Before he could finish, a cold voice rang out from behind them, freezing the air in their lungs.

"You two... are courting death." A cold, amused voice echoed, "Sneak attacks? If you want to sneak attack me, at least wait until my temper has cooled down a bit."

The master froze, his expression turning grave as he slowly turned his head to look at the figure standing behind them, leaning casually against the hilt of his sword.

Then, with a sudden surge of lingering fury, the master muttered beneath his breath: "Damned brat... just you wait..."

***

"Senior, are we there yet?"

The terrain grew increasingly rugged, the narrow stone path winding precariously upward, flanked by jagged rocks and thorny bushes.

At the foot of a massive boulder, a young girl of about seventeen sat resting, her bright eyes shining with exhaustion.

The master waved a hand dismissively. "We're almost there. Just a bit further."

They had left the battlefield behind hours ago, but the journey had been far from peaceful. Along the way, they had encountered several squads of demonic pursuers, forcing them to take endless detours through dense briars and hazardous ravines.

Every step was agonizing, the pain radiating from their wounds flaring up with every movement. Yet, they had pressed on, driven by sheer willpower. They couldn't afford to stop, not when failure meant certain death—not just for them, but for the senior brother they had set out to rescue.

Win, and they live. Lose, and they perish.

And fortunately, they had won. Even so, the toll it had taken on them was immense.

"Senior, can you still walk?" the girl asked, her voice breathless as she hurried over to support him, her face etched with concern. "Ah, you're bleeding again..."

"I... I'm fine," the master forced a tight, weary smile, his voice raspy as he muttered, "Just... just a scratch."

"Oh no, you're bleeding so much!" The girl cried out, panicking as she scrambled through her pouch for bandages. "Master, senior... please hold on!"

Suddenly, the rustling of footsteps echoed from ahead. A group of heavily armed righteous cultivators stepped out from behind a bend in the stone path, their expressions solemn.

Recognizing the symbols on their robes, the girl's eyes widened in surprise. She hurriedly stepped forward, cupping her fists in a salute. "Greetings, Seniors! We are disciples of the Righteous Path, currently..."

Before she could finish, the leader of the righteous cultivators raised a hand, his gaze sweeping over them. His face was pale, and he looked as though he had barely survived a grueling ordeal. But upon seeing the master standing behind the girl, his expression shifted into one of profound shock.

Recognizing the master, the leader hurriedly stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Greetings, Elder! We never expected to cross paths with you here."

The master raised a hand, his expression calm. "No need for formalities. Are you part of the vanguard?"

The leader's expression dimmed slightly. "Reporting to Elder, we pursued the demonic beasts deep into these mountains after the battle at Red Pine Ridge, but we were ambushed. Most of our brothers were scattered or killed."

The master nodded slightly. "Red Pine Ridge... how far is it from here?"

The leader hesitated for a moment before answering, "About a thousand miles."

"A thousand miles?" The girl gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief. She had never imagined they had traveled such a vast distance.

"Elder," the leader lowered his voice, asking cautiously, "Are you planning to return to the vanguard's encampment?"

The master shook his head slowly. "Not yet. We still have business to attend to further ahead."

The leader bowed respectfully, a bitter smile touching his lips. "Understood. Then we wish Elder a safe journey. We must take our leave now."

(Note: The original text had a slight typo here regarding the character's status, which has been smoothed out in translation to maintain narrative flow.)