In a world strewn with bones, blood was the dominant theme.
Standing still, Mo Fan keenly sensed a potent aura of slaughter and chaos, mingled with an intense deathly air.
He frowned slightly. When he focused all his demonic energy to perceive these three auras, he realized they didn’t originate from this purgatory-like world but from the throne of bones.
Or rather, from White Clothes himself.
“A world shaped by mental projection?” Mo Fan thought, startled. “This White Clothes is truly formidable to wield such a technique.”
He began to visualize the fearsome sword intent from the iron tablet in his mind, repeatedly tracing its form.
Gradually, Mo Fan’s aura sharpened, increasingly resembling a sword.
It was sword intent, yet not true sword intent.
Mo Fan’s understanding of swordsmanship was limited, derived entirely from the faint sword intent emanating from the inverted mountain in the iron tablet’s inner vision. He had been obliterated countless times by that intent to temper his spirit.
Thus, he had gained some insight into sword intent. Now, he was shaping his own, or rather, mimicking it.
Even so, his aura underwent a striking transformation.
“Hm?” White Clothes seemed to notice, glancing at Mo Fan, but that was all.
“Comprehending sword intent now? No, just mimicking it. How laughable,” White Clothes sneered. “Over the past century, many of my prey who comprehended sword intent were formidable, but so what? They still became my food.”
He dismissed Mo Fan’s actions, turning his gaze to the flustered Black Clothes.
“Black Clothes, you’ve disappointed me greatly. You couldn’t even handle such a simple task. I shouldn’t have sent you, then we wouldn’t have these problems,” White Clothes said coldly, rising from the bone throne, looking down at the two demons.
“White Clothes, stop this,” Black Clothes pleaded, looking pained. “We can cultivate well on our own. Why become the Lei Yu family’s lackeys? For those so-called resources? Didn’t we live well in Mantis Valley? Why come to Phoenix Cry Mountain Demon Domain to kill?”
White Clothes frowned, saying coldly, “Do you know what living well means? You don’t. Born as demons, we must adapt to the law of the jungle, survival of the fittest. If we don’t strive, only extinction awaits. You see me as ferocious, devouring other demons, but do you know if we don’t eat them, they’ll eat us? That’s what it means to be a demon. There’s no reasoning in the demon clan, only who has the sharper claws and teeth. Only absolute strength matters. Have you forgotten how our mother died?”
His words struck Black Clothes like hammers, paling her face as she stepped back involuntarily.
At that moment, a hand gripped her arm, stopping her retreat. Mo Fan’s voice rang out.
“Being born a demon isn’t our choice, but the path we walk is. Killing isn’t the only solution. If it were, the demon clan would have ceased to exist long ago. The weak are killed and eaten by the strong, who are then eaten by the stronger, in an endless cycle. If that were true, the demon clan would be gone. Yet, not only do we exist, we thrive in these Hundred Thousand Mountains. This proves the demon clan’s path isn’t just slaughter, but also order.”
Mo Fan stepped forward, radiating sword intent, and looked at White Clothes before the throne. “Look into my eyes. What do you see?”
White Clothes frowned but glanced instinctively.
In that instant, Mo Fan’s eyes blazed with dazzling golden light.
Supernatural ability, Bewitching Golden Light.
As White Clothes faltered, two golden flying swords shot from Mo Fan’s pupils, pinning him to the bone throne in an instant.
Pop.
With a soft sound, the blood-red world shattered.
Mo Fan’s vision returned to normal, and the zither’s melody ceased, replaced by a jarring twang.
He looked at the young man in black on the giant stone, seeing a broken string on his zither.
“Well done, toad demon. Well done, order,” White Clothes said, looking down at Mo Fan. His gaze held less disdain and more gravity than in the illusory world.
He hadn’t expected this toad demon to break his illusion.
“Every being has their own truths and beliefs, but sadly, this world’s rules are set by the strong. The weak only see what the strong allow. Rules and thoughts alike. You’re a toad demon not even at the peak of the demon general realm, yet you speak of order and deny my words. Isn’t that laughable, utterly ignorant?” White Clothes laughed wildly, as if hearing the greatest joke.
“You’re wrong again,” Mo Fan said, stepping forward, voice firm. “The strong may set rules and influence our thoughts, but they can’t control our inner beliefs. The human race has a saying, ‘Man can conquer heaven.’ Though they revere heaven, they believe they can overcome it. If even the weak humans have such resolve, why can’t we demons, born with the ability to cultivate? All rules begin with someone taking that first step. How dare you say I can’t take it in my lifetime?”
“Hahaha, what a silver tongue,” White Clothes laughed, then sneered. “A frog in a well dares to speak of the sky’s vastness? You’re killing me. You ask why? I’ll tell you why. Because your life ends here, and I am the nightmare that severs your future.”
With that, White Clothes spat out a black spear that shot toward Mo Fan.
“Can’t reason, so you resort to force? Truly bandit logic,” Mo Fan sneered, standing still. As the spear neared, his black feathers shielded him.
Clang.
A collision rang out, the feathers vibrated, and the spear was deflected.
Mo Fan looked at the stone, seeing only the zither, White Clothes gone.
“Looking for me?” White Clothes’ voice whispered in Mo Fan’s ear, making his hair stand on end.
Too fast.
Clang.
In an instant, Mo Fan’s feathers enveloped him, but he sensed no movement. Instead, a metallic clash came from nearby.
“Black Clothes, do you know what you’re doing?” White Clothes’ voice roared, furious.
“White Clothes, stop,” Black Clothes said. “I’ve already pledged to follow the Great King. How could I let you harm him? I thought it was a risky choice, but the Great King’s words make sense. We can’t choose our birth or background, but we can choose our path.”
“You know nothing. This is my path, and I don’t need your lectures,” White Clothes retorted.
