Chapter 104: Back to Cultivating
The night air outside was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and mountain mist. Lanterns glowed dimly along the winding paths, their light swallowed by the vast silence of the peaks.
Tian Lei walked without hurry, but each step was deliberate. Mu Qinxue’s words still lingered in his mind. Marked. If it was true, then traces of the foreign power could already be etched into his qi. He needed to confirm it.
His immortal cave was not like a simple disciple’s quarters. As a Direct disciple, he had been granted one of the sect’s finest sanctuaries. The entrance opened into a broad courtyard paved with smooth jade tiles, its edges lined with flowering trees that bloomed year-round. Flowing water ran through sculpted channels, feeding a clear pond where koi flickered like living jewels. At the center stood the main chamber, its walls polished and lit with pearl lamps that glowed like soft starlight. Everything radiated quiet luxury, designed to ease cultivation and nourish the spirit.
He entered the chamber and sat cross-legged upon a silken mat, his sword laid across his knees. Moonlight filtered down through a crystal skylight above, washing the room in pale silver.
He closed his eyes. His breathing slowed, qi rising and falling like steady tides. His senses turned inward, combing carefully through his body.
For a while—calm. Nothing unusual.
Then—
Tzzzzk—!
A faint sting pulsed in his chest. His brows drew together. There—subtle, but present. A brand buried deep, hidden like a thorn lodged beneath the flesh. Not poison, not a wound—an imprint, foreign and invasive.
"...So Master was right."
The mark quivered faintly, like something waiting, watching from afar.
Tian Lei’s expression hardened. He drew upon his soul, summoning the full sharpness of his spirit sense. His will condensed into a luminous blade of intent—bright, precise, and unyielding.
"Break."
With that single command, his soul blade pierced the foreign brand.
BOOM—!
The mark shuddered violently, lashing out with a final ripple of crimson light. For an instant, he saw it—a shadowed figure beyond the veil, chains writhing in the dark, eyes burning red.
But his soul strength surged like a storm, tearing the image apart. The mark fractured, splintered, and dissolved into smoke.
Silence fell again. The sting vanished from his chest. His qi flowed freely, untainted.
Tian Lei exhaled slowly, sweat beading on his brow. He straightened, resting his hand on his sword.
"...Whoever you are," he murmured, his tone low and steady, "your tricks won’t work on me."
The pond outside rippled softly. The pearl lamps glowed brighter, as though affirming his victory.
The mark was gone. For now.
But in his heart, Tian Lei knew—this was only the first move.
Tian Lei stayed seated, his breathing steady once more. The faint traces of sweat on his brow dried quickly as his qi returned to its calm, controlled rhythm. The foreign mark hadn’t even lasted a full breath once he unleashed his soul strength.
"Too weak," he said lightly, almost as though dismissing a child’s trick. "If that was your so-called predator’s mark, then you overestimated yourself."
His gaze drifted upward to the moonlight spilling in from the skylight. For a moment, his eyes reflected silver—clear, unshaken. He picked up his sword, sliding it back into its sheath with quiet finality.
The matter, to him, was closed.
—
Far away, in a cavern deep beneath a land veiled in crimson mists—
Thump—!
A man wrapped in black robes jolted awake, his body convulsing. Dark qi surged wildly, breaking the meditation circle beneath him. His throat clenched, and with a harsh cough, a mouthful of thick, black blood sprayed across the floor.
His face twisted in disbelief. "Impossible...!"
His chest seared as though a blade had been driven straight into his soul. The predator’s mark he had so carefully hidden—obliterated. Not resisted. Not sealed. Destroyed.
His hand trembled as he clutched his chest, eyes wide with both rage and dread. "That ant... in the lower realm... how did he shatter it so easily?"
Around him, the candles flickered, shadows writhing like snakes across the stone walls. The robed figure gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stabilize his qi. But his complexion was pale, and the blood at the corner of his lips refused to stop.
He spat another mouthful of black blood and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. His pupils glowed faintly crimson, burning with fury.
"...You’ve drawn my gaze, boy." His voice was low, hoarse, and dripping with malice. "Very well. If my mark cannot chain you... then I will come myself."
But even as he said it, a sliver of unease coiled in his chest. Whoever that disciple was, his soul was far stronger than the demon had expected. Strong enough to swat his brand away like dust.
The robed figure’s grip on the armrest of his stone throne tightened, claws cracking the stone. "I will not be underestimated again."
In the stillness of that cavern, the crimson mist thickened, as though answering his oath.
—
Back in his immortal cave, Tian Lei had already risen from his meditation. He poured himself a cup of tea, calm as the surface of a pond. The glow of the pearl lamps was steady, the koi pond outside rippling softly under moonlight.
To him, the incident was already behind him. But unseen threads had begun to stir across realms—threads that now tied him and the demon together.
And the first clash had already been decided.
Mu Qinxue stood at the edge of a cliffside pavilion, robes drifting in the mountain wind. From here, she could see the endless sea of clouds rolling below, silvered by moonlight. Yet her gaze was not on the view—it was turned inward, heavy with thought.
She let out a faint sigh, one that vanished into the night breeze.
"So... those bastards from the upper realm have stretched their claws here again."
Her eyes narrowed, sharp as blades, but within them lingered an unspoken weariness. This was not the first time she had seen it—marks laid down in secret, threads cast like fishing lines into the lower realms. A single disciple, a single mortal body—it was nothing to them.
"To them, people here are little more than cattle," she muttered, voice low. "Either bait to anchor their schemes... or vessels to be hollowed out."
She knew well enough how these demonic factions worked. If the mark had rooted, the boy’s will and flesh alike could have been turned into a puppet. Even if not, they could still twist a human’s organs into vessels for their vile rites, or use the branded soul as a beacon for invasion.
"It isn’t the first time," she said quietly. "And it won’t be the last. Their lawless games always end the same way—tragedy for those below, silence from those above."
For a moment, her hand tightened on the railing. A shadow of killing intent stirred in her aura, only to be smothered again by her calm control.
Her eyes lifted toward the night sky, toward the stars half-veiled by drifting clouds. Somewhere beyond those lights lay the upper realms, the seat of those powers who saw the lower world as a playground.
"They’ll make their move again... they always do. But this time..." her lips curved, cold and resolute, "this time, perhaps they’ve chosen the wrong prey."
The breeze whispered through the pines, carrying her words into the vast stillness of the mountains.
Her gaze lingered on the stars, their cold shimmer like countless indifferent witnesses to the world’s cruelty.
Mu Qinxue’s lips pressed into a thin line, the porcelain cup in her hand trembling faintly before she set it aside. "Demonic scum..." she whispered, venom laced through every syllable.
Her hands curled into fists atop the railing, knuckles whitening. "Always probing, always corrupting, never ceasing. Even in the lower realms they crawl like vermin, leaving only scars and ashes."
The thought of their methods twisted her stomach. She had seen it too many times—entire villages hollowed out overnight, bodies left as shells with souls devoured, or worse... twisted into puppets, mockeries of life that carried demonic brands in their marrow. The orthodox sects had called it "collateral suffering." She called it cowardice.
"They wait until the veil is thin," she muttered bitterly, eyes narrowing at the horizon. "Then they strike, and when blood has already filled the rivers, the so-called righteous pretend to descend as saviors."
The mountain winds rushed past, tugging at her robes. She let it cool her face, but not her fury. Within, her qi burned with a cold, sharp light.
"I will not forgive them." The words were spoken softly, yet each carried the weight of a vow. "Not this time. Not ever."
For a long while, she stood unmoving, staring into the night as though daring the stars themselves to yield answers. Beneath her stillness, her spirit seethed like a storm barely held in check.
She hated them. Every one of them. Demonic beasts, demonic cultivators, and the cowards in high seats who allowed them to thrive.
And should they crawl into her world again... she would be waiting.