Chapter 26

The so-called Endless Abyss was a space between the boundaries of the human and demon realms.

As a transitional zone, it brimmed with danger and the unknown—a landscape of twisted spatial vortices and rivers of molten fire. The disciples who had fought their way here were already exhausted in body and spirit. After the violent tremors, more than half had collapsed. Only three remained standing: Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe, and Shang Qinghua.

Since the Endless Abyss had been torn open, it meant something from the demon world had come through. The three held their breath, senses sharpened, and waited.

From the darkness, a man’s figure slowly materialized.

One look at that frost-cold face and the aura that kept all others at a distance, and Shen Qingqiu knew exactly who it was.

He shot a sidelong glance at Shang Qinghua, whose face had gone sheet-white, and felt a laugh stick in his throat.

Why was this future right-hand man of Luo Binghe’s—this loyal accomplice to his future acts of slaughter and arson—showing up here now?!

Mo Beijun was a pureblood demon, a proper second-generation demon nobility who had inherited his family’s northern territory in the demon realm. He was elusive, perpetually idle, and acknowledged almost no one. Such an independent character, after being brutally beaten by the mid-story power-escalated Luo Binghe, had inexplicably pledged his allegiance and become his willing tool. From then on, Luo Binghe gained a fiercely impressive lackey for his errands and dirty work. But… get this straight, according to the original plot, you weren’t supposed to show up for at least another five hundred chapters, buddy!

Shang Qinghua rushed forward a step and demanded, “Who are you? Why have you appeared here?”

Isn’t that your real, direct superior? Wasn’t he the one who gave you the order to release that dangerous creature into the Immortal Alliance Conference? Please, by all means, keep acting.

Mo Beijun tilted his head slightly. Half of his handsome profile was submerged in shadow, sending a chill down the spine. He merely raised a finger. Shang Qinghua was suddenly hurled into the air by an invisible force, slammed into an ancient tree trunk hard enough to snap it, and fell unconscious. Blood sprayed wildly from his mouth, a performance so vigorous Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but feel a wave of admiration.

So dedicated. So professional. Brother, you really go all out for the job!

After his moment of admiration, Shen Qingqiu sighed inwardly. He’d known it would come down to him.

Shen Qingqiu leveled his sword, his tone neither subservient nor arrogant. “A demon?”

It was a pointless question. Anyone who couldn’t see the swirling black demonic energy cloaking the man was blind.

A white blur flashed. Without a word, Luo Binghe moved to shield him.

They had just been arguing, yet now, with a powerful enemy before them, he stepped forward as a human shield without hesitation. To say Shen Qingqiu wasn’t moved would be a lie.

But the more moved he felt, the more he hated what he had to do next. Shen Qingqiu would have preferred him to do nothing. “Binghe, step back.”

Luo Binghe didn’t reply, nor did he retreat. He met Mo Beijun’s gaze evenly, utterly unmoved by the demon’s oppressive aura.

Mo Beijun made a soft sound of surprise, as if he’d found something that piqued his interest.

“Since when does a disciple stand in front of his master?” Shen Qingqiu said.

Mo Beijun ignored him, his eyes on Luo Binghe. “Are you a disciple of Cang Qiong Mountain?”

Luo Binghe’s voice was cold. “Luo Binghe, disciple of Qing Jing Peak, Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. I request to learn from your techniques.”

Mo Beijun chuckled, a derisive sound. “An immortal who is not immortal. A demon who is not a demon. Interesting.”

Hearing that, Shen Qingqiu felt he’d grasped a thread of something.

Could it be… this Mo Beijun, appearing here now, is meant to replace the Black Moon Rhinoceros Python as the plot device to push the main story forward?

The “immortal” undoubtedly referred to Shang Qinghua, currently playing dead while still diligently coughing up blood—a cultivator who served demons, indeed not very “immortal” at all. And the “demon”… who else present could it point to but Luo Binghe?

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t be sure if Mo Beijun had truly seen through Luo Binghe’s hidden heritage at a glance. His mind raced. Seeing his frown, Luo Binghe mistook it for anger at his disobedience. “Master, he will not let any of us leave. It is better to fight him with everything we have.”

You’re absolutely right. And it’s also completely useless. “If you stay here, you will only throw your life away.”

“To die for my master, or to die with him,” Luo Binghe said, his voice steady, “this disciple would welcome either fate.”

Mo Beijun sneered. “Fight me?” He generously omitted the implied ‘you who knows neither the height of heaven nor the depth of earth.’ Shen Qingqiu thought, Good thing you didn’t say it. In less than three years, Luo Binghe will beat you to a pulp with one hand, and you’ll still bow your head and become his loyal dog. That would be quite the self-inflicted slap to the face.

“Very well,” Mo Beijun said. “Let us see.”

Before the words faded, the killing intent in the air exploded.

Shen Qingqiu’s footwork became unfathomable. He flashed in front of Luo Binghe. With his left hand, he tossed Xiu Ya forward—whether it would block anything or not, it would buy a moment. With his right, he grabbed Luo Binghe by the collar like an eagle snatching a chick and hurled him out beyond the range of Mo Beijun’s demonic aura. Then he spun and met Mo Beijun’s palm with his own!

Their palms connected. A surge of bloody energy churned in Shen Qingqiu’s chest, as if he’d been punched squarely. The spiritual power throughout his body boiled and roiled uncontrollably. Although he had formed a golden core, placing his cultivation at a fairly high level, what was a Core Formation stage cultivator before Luo Binghe’s future right-hand man, the future destroyer of worlds?

But he had to give it everything he had!

According to Shen Qingqiu’s decades of experience reading martial and immortal fantasy novels, the only viable survival strategy against this type of eccentric, rebellious anti-hero was a desperate, life-risking fight. Such characters reserved a shred of respect for stubborn, unyielding bones who fought to the bloody end. For cowards and weaklings, they showed no mercy at all!

Caught off guard, Luo Binghe was sent flying. He twisted mid-air, and Zheng Yang left its sheath. Mo Beijun withdrew one hand and flicked a finger against the blinding white sword light approaching him. Zheng Yang’s blade, unable to withstand the massive influx of demonic energy, erupted with white light and shattered into several pieces on the spot.

Using only one palm against Shen Qingqiu’s two, Mo Beijun still held overwhelming superiority. Growing bored, he released a pulse of energy, shoving Shen Qingqiu back. “Pathetically weak talent. Rigid foundational techniques. Get lost.”

Shen Qingqiu: “…”

Shen Qingqiu’s innate talent couldn’t be called a once-in-an-era genius in the human realm, but it was certainly one-in-a-thousand excellence. The foundational techniques of Cang Qiong Mountain weren’t rigid—they were orthodox! Yet from Mo Beijun’s mouth, they became worthless trash. If this were the original goods, hearing such words would have made him cough up three liters of blood, go weep in a corner, and start sticking pins in a voodoo doll.

Luo Binghe paid no mind to his shattered sword. But seeing Shen Qingqiu shaken by the palm strike, internal injuries forcing blood past his clenched teeth, his eyes suddenly turned icy. The aura around him shifted instantaneously. Sensing this terrifying mutation, a cold, intrigued light flashed in Mo Beijun’s pale blue eyes.

A pure black ice sword materialized from thin air. One became two, two became four, four became eight—in an instant, they split into hundreds of self-arrayed ice swords, shooting toward the encircled Shen Qingqiu from all directions!

Ordinary defenses were useless against these swords, for they were condensed from the purest demonic energy. Shen Qingqiu’s spiritual power was nearly depleted. The clash between the two was as disproportionate as a spark against a tidal wave. The outcome was obvious.

As the rain of swords descended, Shen Qingqiu’s heart roared.

I tried my best! But if he thinks I’m a weakling, what can I do?!

What did I ever do to you? If I have to die, at least give me a decent death! Getting stabbed by over a hundred black swords—I’ll be turned into a sieve! Will there even be anything left to look at?!

Yet, after a long moment, the agony of being pierced by ten thousand arrows never came.

Unless Mo Beijun had suddenly gone mad and withdrawn the sword array, only one person, one possibility, could have blocked that wave of sky-rending killing intent.

Shen Qingqiu steadied himself and slowly looked up.

Sure enough.

The dense sword array filling the air from all directions had been obliterated.

Obliterated completely, as if it had never existed. In the night sky, only countless black ice crystals remained, reflecting the moonlight as they drifted down like snow.

The scene could even be described as beautiful.

Yet the figure standing at its center, a blizzard gathering in his eyes and around his form, could only be described as terrifying.

Sitting propped against a large tree, Shen Qingqiu swallowed back the clotted blood, circulated his energy to heal his wounds, and observed the world-shattering battle between these two nascent calamities.

Luo Binghe’s bloodline seal was still intact. Mo Beijun was merely testing him. Yet they fought with enough ferocity to blot out the sun and moon, their tidal waves of demonic energy overflowing, nearly shrouding the sky.

This area was originally within the essence range of the Thousand-Leaf Pure Snow Lotus… that was the name, right? Yes. Demonic creatures hadn’t dared approach it. But now, bathed in the overwhelming demonic energy, that spiritually vibrant snow lotus withered, rotting down to its roots. Creatures lurking in the darkness crawled out, greedily drinking in the fragrance the energy represented.

Several ghoul-headed spiders skittered stealthily toward the fallen Cang Qiong Mountain disciples, their hairy legs aiming for their temples. Shen Qingqiu’s spiritual power was almost spent; no ranged attacks were possible. He could only grab their filth-matted hair and fling them aside. He aimed carefully—specifically toward the body of that traitor, Shang Qinghua.

Meanwhile, Mo Beijun had nearly finished probing Luo Binghe's limits and prepared to end the exchange with a final strike. He flicked a finger, sending a crimson stream of light to implant itself into the center of Luo Binghe’s forehead.

The moment the light touched skin, it seeped in and solidified into a blazing scarlet sigil. Consumed by battle fury, Luo Binghe didn't recognize what it was—only that his skull felt ready to split. A churning, violent impulse raged through him with no outlet. He flung out a hand in blind reflex, and the demonic energy erupting from him blasted toward Mo Beijun like a cannon shot.

The force was immense. Mo Beijun raised a hand to dissipate it, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. “Not bad.”

He spoke as if it didn’t matter whether Luo Binghe was even lucid enough to hear. “The human realm is no place for you. Why not return to your origins?”

Now, Shen Qingqiu was one hundred percent certain. Mo Beijun’s sudden appearance was indeed meant to replace the role of the Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python in the plot. But compared to the original story, Mo Beijun had gone a step further. He… he had actually unlocked the seal suppressing Luo Binghe’s bloodline.