Chapter 3: The Second Day After Transmigrating Into a Book

The Fengyun Sect stood on an island formed by seven mountain ranges. The peaks climbed into the clouds, and from a distance, mist curled around them like something out of a fairyland.

The tallest and most imposing peak was Bihuai Mountain.

Unlike Xiaonan Peak, where snow lay year-round and the air was bitterly cold, Bihuai Mountain was quiet and graceful, with the feel of spring. Pavilions dotted the slopes. From the one at the summit, you could look out over every peak of the Fengyun Sect, watch the clouds rolling past, and hear the wind stir the leaves.

There was also a clearing in a bamboo grove behind the mountain where the disciples practiced swordsmanship. The spiritual energy was rich, and the scenery was lovely.

In their spare time, sect disciples liked to visit Bihuai Mountain. They rested in the pavilions and towers, where some played the qin, some read, some practiced swordsmanship, and others laughed and bickered. Their voices overlapped in a lively jumble.

Chu Wuyue strolled along the corridor and out of the courtyard. Every disciple he passed bowed and greeted him politely.

He’d been out for less than eight minutes when he reached the only white-stone stairway winding up Bihuai Mountain. By then, six groups of disciples had already passed him—not counting the ones reading, playing chess, and practicing the qin in the pavilions.

There were far more people than he’d expected.

Six or seven disciples had even fallen in behind him to admire him from afar. They pressed close together, twisting their sleeves, their faces bright with barely contained excitement.

Chu Wuyue: “…”

He’d miscalculated.

With the disciples following so closely and so many people up on the mountain, how was he supposed to find somewhere quiet to test his spiritual energy?

Wait. I’ve got it!

A brilliant idea struck. Without a word, Chu Wuyue turned off the white-stone steps and onto a narrow trail that branched beside them, making it seem as though he’d simply decided to take a stroll.

The path beside the mountain stream was cool and shady. Chu Wuyue had only gone a few steps when an empty wine jar rolled toward him with a wobbling, glug-glug sound, blocking his way.

Chu Wuyue: “…”

Someone had a lot of nerve drinking on Bihuai Mountain.

The original owner had laid down rules for anyone entering the mountain: no drinking, no foul language, and no shouting.

As long as they didn’t bother the original owner at Qinglan Cottage, he didn’t care whether they spent the day sleeping or diligently practicing their swordsmanship.

Chu Wuyue didn’t want the hassle. He was about to ignore the jar and keep going when the System cut in.

[OOC warning.]

Chu Wuyue: “…”

Maybe he had better deal with it.

He raised his head, expressionless, and looked around.

The person who’d been drinking wore a plain blue martial outfit, its sleeves cinched at the wrists by silver bracers. The disciple was sprawled across a strangely shaped boulder beside an old pine, face flushed, clutching a wine jar and sleeping like the dead.

Chu Wuyue glanced back over his shoulder.

“Drag him away,” he told the disciples behind him.

The disciples who’d been following him froze, their eager expressions faltering. They exchanged uncertain looks.

But the person sleeping on that rock was…

They looked around, hesitating, then noticed Chu Wuyue’s cool gaze still fixed on them. Gritting their teeth, they decided to follow his order.

The drunk won’t know we were the ones who moved him.

The disciples hurried forward and reached out to drag the sprawled figure off the rock.

While they were distracted, Chu Wuyue took a step back. He didn’t bother waiting to see what happened next. In a moment, he was gone from the trail.

Using the drunk to distract them. I really am clever.

Once the area was clear, Chu Wuyue remembered there might be a better way to avoid the disciples wandering around the mountain.

His divine sense.

Venerable Xuanji’s divine sense was bound to be powerful. He could spread it out to see where the disciples were, then avoid them.

The moment he thought of it, his divine sense unfurled. In an instant, it covered all of Bihuai Mountain. He could take in every flower and tree, every creature and stream. He could hear the wind rustling through the trees and see everything with perfect clarity.

The movement came as naturally as if he’d done it a thousand times.

Chu Wuyue had seen plenty in his life. After a moment’s surprise, he quickly recovered and carried on without a second thought.

Using his divine sense, he quietly skirted the disciples on the mountain and slipped into the forest behind it, stopping in front of a waterfall.

He checked that there was no one nearby.

Then Chu Wuyue began to draw on the spiritual energy within him…

What an immense power!

Afraid of unleashing too much, he tentatively gathered a thread of spiritual energy at his fingertip. Then he hesitated.

Isn’t this too little?

He decided to stop worrying and flicked the spiritual energy into the pool beneath the waterfall.

The result nearly gave him a heart attack.

The moment his energy touched the water, the flowing surface turned white with frost. Ice raced outward from the point of impact, crackling as it spread.

In an instant, the entire pool had frozen solid.

And that wasn’t the end of it. The ice kept climbing from the pool up the waterfall. The roar of the water stopped. The falls became a magnificent column of frozen water, joined to the ice below. Sunlight glinted off it, scattering brilliant light.

Chu Wuyue’s expressionless face stared back at him from the smooth, mirrorlike ice.

Inside, he was reeling.

Holy crap!

He hadn’t needed to worry about having too little spiritual energy. He’d used far too much!

He’d frozen an entire waterfall in a second!

That had to be a first.

No wonder he’d made the original villain so powerful. Back when he was writing the novel, he’d piled on every grand, flowery description he could think of. Venerable Xuanji was even more impressive in person than Chu Wuyue had imagined.

He could feel that his divine sense wasn’t the only thing he could use freely. His spiritual energy came just as easily—he could do almost anything with a mere thought. He’d probably inherited the original owner’s techniques and cultivation methods, too.

If so, repairing the Devil Realm Seal shouldn’t be difficult.

The seal couldn’t wait. He needed to set out.

Chu Wuyue retrieved a map scroll from the original owner’s storage pouch. It clearly showed the location of the Devil Realm and the surrounding terrain.

According to the map, the Devil Realm lay in the dense forest on the western side of Xianzhou. The forest stretched across the land and joined the mountain range. Deep within it stood a barrier that held demons and abundant spiritual herbs. It also enclosed a fissure so deep it seemed as if someone had cleaved the earth in two.

The Cultivation Realm called that fissure the Devil Abyss. The Devil Realm lay beneath it.

Of course, he didn’t have to descend into the Devil Abyss to repair the seal. He only needed to work on the barrier above it, which was convenient.

The Fengyun Sect’s island lay northwest of Xianzhou, across the sea. The Devil Realm wasn’t far.

At his level of cultivation, he could get there by flying sword in about eight minutes.

Speaking of swords…

Chu Wuyue remembered that the original owner had a spirit sword called Frost Descent.

Frost Descent had no scabbard. Or rather, Venerable Xuanji himself served as its scabbard. When he didn’t need it, the sword disappeared into his sea of consciousness. When he did, it appeared in his hand at a thought.

The moment Chu Wuyue thought of the sword, a streak of white light flashed before his eyes.

He looked down. Starlight shimmered in his palm, and in the blink of an eye, a long, keen-edged sword had appeared. It had no scabbard. Frost Descent’s slender blade gleamed with a soft light.

Chu Wuyue gripped the hilt and raised it before his eyes. Fine patterns had been etched into the blade, which reflected his calm, unruffled gaze.

He gave it a light swing. He hadn’t even infused it with spiritual energy, yet the blade flashed brightly through the air. He could still sense the tremendous power hidden inside it.

The sword gave the impression that one casual swing could split the heavens and earth.

Chu Wuyue decided not to test Frost Descent’s true power just yet. What if he put his back into it and split Bihuai Mountain in two? How would he explain that?

Besides, he’d have plenty of chances later. He was sure to fight the Devil Race sooner or later.

The System prodded him.

[Please repair the Devil Realm Seal as soon as possible.]

What a hard life.

Better get on with it.

Chu Wuyue sighed and guided Frost Descent to hover in the air. He rose lightly onto the blade, then summoned his spiritual energy. The sword carried him off into the wind.

Toward the Xianzhou Dense Forest.

To repair the Devil Realm Seal.

Yucheng, Xianzhou.

Outside the forest to the west.

Dark clouds choked the sky like a pool of muddy ink. Thunder rolled inside them. The wind howled, and a few tentative drops of rain fell.

Then the rain suddenly came down in sheets.

The ground outside the forest turned to mud.

A wooden tombstone leaned crookedly in the dirt. Behind it, the grave had been dug open. The earth was piled to either side, and a deep hole gaped in the center. Inside lay a pried-open coffin, with a ragged corpse so badly decayed it was barely recognizable.

Several bodies lay scattered in front of the grave. Their gruesome deaths were enough to make anyone’s hair stand on end.

“Spare me! It was all my fault! I deserved to die! I’m a bastard! Please, spare my life…”

A richly dressed fat man prostrated himself in front of someone. His crown had come loose, his clothes were soaked through by the rain, and he didn’t care. His face was twisted with terror. A closer look showed him trembling.

“Spare you?” A low, cold, magnetic voice sighed. “Who ever spared me?”

A scarlet flame appeared out of nowhere and spread from the fat man’s chest. In the blink of an eye, he vanished in the rain, reduced to ash.

The flames spread to the other bodies scattered on the ground. The rain couldn’t put them out.

At last, every corpse outside the forest had disappeared. Only the ragged body in the open grave remained, lying in its coffin.

A tall man in a black robe patterned with gold stood before the grave, his hands clasped behind his back. He was strikingly handsome, a red mark faintly visible between his brows. His bearing was noble, but killing intent clung to him like a shadow.

He looked down at the rotting corpse in the coffin, his gaze icy and his lips curved in a mocking smile.

Qin Feiyuan stared at the corpse for a while.

“Now that you’re dead, stay dead. If you show your face again, I won’t stop at scattering your ashes.”

He spoke lightly, as if addressing the dead man in the coffin—or perhaps someone else entirely.

Before the words had faded, he flicked a finger. A tiny scarlet flame sprang from his fingertip and landed on the corpse in the coffin.

Whoosh!

The body caught fire.

Qin Feiyuan didn’t even bother to look. Strands of black demonic energy rose from him, curling around his body until he lifted into the air and shot off in one direction.

Behind him, the coffin continued to burn. Unlike the other bodies, which had vanished into ash almost at once, this one burned for a very long time…