Chapter 81: Dongfang Shun’s Schemes

From within the mist across from her, no voice emerged, yet Ji Yao could see the fog still surging in her direction, which meant the other party was still advancing. Ji Yao didn’t know what she looked like to whoever was on the other side, nor was she sure if her earlier shout had even reached them.

Suddenly, the most likely possibility occurred to her: that both sides were experiencing exactly the same thing. After all, in that moment when their spiritual senses had touched, the contact had been mutual.

Given the same circumstances, Ji Yao hadn’t heard any sound from the other side. At such close distance, cultivators’ senses were far sharper than ordinary people’s; she should have at least heard footsteps as the other walked. Yet, there was nothing. Save for the churning mist, there was no other sign of movement. The more Ji Yao thought about it, the more convinced she became that this was the case.

The instant she realized something was wrong and stopped moving forward, she instinctively pressed down hard with her foot, leaving a shallow pit in the earth where she stood. Staring at it in a daze, Ji Yao was certain she hadn’t taken a step since stopping. Now, while the pit remained, she might not.

What a bizarre phenomenon. Ji Yao couldn’t analyze its cause, but it didn’t prevent her from preparing herself—whether or not the person across from her was Dongfang Shun, caution would do no harm.

Their spiritual senses had encountered each other at a distance of six meters, but she still couldn’t see him. Either the other person was standing motionless just like her, or the mist restricted their movement. In either case, one fact was clear: their progress depended solely on being carried by the shifting fog.

Ji Yao quickly affixed five Vajra Talismans to herself, drew her Snow-Dust Sword, and held the scabbard in one hand, with the blade raised protectively over her chest.

As she completed these actions, the mist between them finally thinned a little. Through the haze, she could make out the faint silhouette of someone garbed in black—a man, judging by his height.

Ji Yao tightened her grip on the Snow-Dust Sword, poised and ready to act.

Only when they could see each other’s faces clearly did Ji Yao finally exhale in relief—it was indeed Dongfang Shun. He stood unmoving, his expression meaningful as he touched his own cheek.

They were about four meters apart, and Dongfang Shun made no move, just waited patiently in place. Ji Yao realized then that he had withheld certain details about this secret realm.

At the very least, he knew the reason for the mist but had not warned her in advance. Ji Yao’s fingers itched with irritation.

As the distance between them shrank to two meters, it stopped decreasing, and Dongfang Shun moved—his mouth, at least. Ji Yao saw his lips move soundlessly; after speaking, he pointed to the space between them and began to slowly step closer.

His message was simple—she could easily lip-read it. Dongfang Shun wanted her to watch what he did, and not interfere.

If he could deal with it alone, why had he been stuck here so long? Ji Yao, however, couldn’t be bothered to argue at this point. It was better to have someone who understood the situation take action than to fumble about blindly and risk making things worse.

She sheathed her sword and held it in her left hand, stepping a few paces away from her direct line with Dongfang Shun and raising an eyebrow to signal her readiness for his performance.

She watched as he reached out and felt the air between them, as if there were an invisible wall separating the two. Realizing this, Ji Yao lifted the Snow-Dust Sword and probed the fog beside her with the scabbard.

Indeed, except for the barrier between them, the other three sides were shrouded in dense white mist—anything extended into it simply vanished from sight. Only at the center did the sword’s point meet resistance. It wasn’t the resistance of a wall, but more like a thin, elastic membrane.

Dongfang Shun felt around for a while before confirming a spot. He then retrieved a jade pendant from his storage artifact and pressed it against the chosen place.

Upon the unseen barrier, the pendant—an unremarkable piece of black jade, devoid of any luster—hung suspended in the air, looking peculiarly out of place.

She was certain the barrier wasn’t sticky…

Next, Dongfang Shun drew his flying sword and pointed it at the jade pendant.

A sudden image flashed through Ji Yao’s mind, and she half-expected him to jam the sword into the pendant and twist it, as if unlocking a door.

Ridiculous! What was she thinking? It wasn’t a key and a keyhole.

Ji Yao hastily backed away, keeping a sharp eye on his every move, but Dongfang Shun simply held his sword pointed at the jade pendant without further action.

Had it not been for the sheen of sweat beading on his brow, she would have thought he was merely striking a pose.

The temperature around them had dropped to freezing, yet Dongfang Shun still sweated. If it wasn’t from the cold, then it could only be from the pressure of some overwhelming force.

With the barrier between them, Ji Yao felt none of his strain.

After about the time it took for a stick of incense to burn, Dongfang Shun seemed to shift tactics. He spun his wrist in a graceful flourish, stepped back, face stern and eyes sharp, gripping his sword with both hands as if preparing for a grand move.

A sudden intuition struck Ji Yao—his flourish was not a display of style, but a means of dissipating force.

Under heavy pressure, to abruptly withdraw one’s power without precise control of spiritual energy risked suffering a backlash. Clearly, Dongfang Shun had yet to master such fine manipulation.

With a flash of spiritual light, Dongfang Shun struck three consecutive blows—each golden sword-light shot into the notch of the jade pendant.

The black jade, now suffused with golden radiance, began to glow brilliantly. The dark hue faded, shifting to white, then growing ever more translucent.

Ji Yao watched as the once tangible object dissolved before her very eyes, vanishing without a trace, as though absorbed by the barrier itself, rather than shattered by Dongfang Shun’s sword.

Once the pendant had disappeared completely, a golden line traced vertically where it had been, and the invisible barrier, as if split, splintered into countless motes of dust.

Opposite her, Dongfang Shun’s color returned to normal, but his body swayed and he toppled to the side.

“Hey! You—” Ji Yao started to call out, ready to step forward and support him, but in the end, she let Dongfang Shun collapse into the mud.

How could you be so heartless!

Ji Yao understood the look Dongfang Shun gave her at the last moment—it had all happened so suddenly; how could she be blamed?

He had cut such a dashing figure just moments before—who could have predicted he’d fall over so easily?

Awkwardly, Ji Yao approached and offered her arm to help him up.

Before he could speak, she seized the initiative.

“Isn’t it about time you came clean about what just happened? How did you know how to break the formation?”

Dongfang Shun’s gaze flickered, his eyelashes half-lowered as he stared at her, lost in thought.

“Don’t look at me like that. You schemed against me first. If you can’t be honest about what dangers await us, then our so-called alliance might as well be over.”

Ji Yao let out a cold laugh. If she still couldn’t see through his intentions now, she might not even know how she died.

At least now she’d wised up—it wasn’t too late yet.