Several auras arrived abruptly, swiftly darting along the stone passage towards them.
All four rose simultaneously, each deploying their defensive measures.
The newcomers were also four in number, two of whom were exceptionally powerful—it was undoubtedly Venerable Songfeng and Demon Lord Yeshuang's group.
Qin Xi shot Mo Tiange a meaningful glance, transmitting his voice: "If it doesn't work, we run."
Mo Tiange nodded. If Venerable Songfeng and Demon Lord Yeshuang remained hostile to each other, there was still a chance for survival; with the four of them joining forces, they wouldn't fear even a Late-Nascent Soul cultivator. However, if Venerable Songfeng and Demon Lord Yeshuang were united, two Late-Nascent Soul cultivators meant they could only flee.
Nevertheless, she felt the former possibility was far more likely. Given Venerable Songfeng's personality, he would absolutely never share treasures with others. Since Demon Lord Yeshuang's group already knew of this treasury's existence, Venerable Songfeng wouldn't let them off. Their current joint escape was probably forced by circumstance.
As this thought flashed through her mind, the newcomers had already rushed past the stone gate—it was indeed Venerable Songfeng and Demon Lord Yeshuang's party.
The moment they charged in and saw them, Venerable Songfeng halted, the dark clouds around him churning incessantly.
Mo Tiange turned her head and saw Nie Wushang, her face pale, fists clenched, pressed tightly against the wall.
She sighed inwardly. She had still underestimated Venerable Songfeng's influence over Nie Wushang. In this state, Nie Wushang might as well be offering her neck for the slaughter.
"Wretch!" A bone-chilling voice emanated from the black clouds.
Nie Wushang's face paled another shade. She gritted her teeth, staring at the Venerable Songfeng before her.
"You have some nerve!" Venerable Songfeng spat out each word, carrying a killing intent that seeped into the marrow.
Mo Tiange watched Nie Wushang intently. Whether she could withstand the accumulated authority of Venerable Songfeng was the final obstacle to her rebirth. This hurdle, no one else could help her with; she could only rely on herself.
Nie Wushang bit her lip, her breathing heavy. Over these years, fleeing her master's side, she had felt free and happy. She thought she had grown stronger than before, that facing her master, she would no longer be that timid little disciple who dared not even breathe loudly. Only now did she realize she was wrong.
Master... Just hearing his voice, she couldn't suppress the fear in her heart. This fear had been deeply planted within her from the first moment she saw him. Even though she was no longer that helpless child who had lost her mother, even though she had formed her Nascent Soul and become a top-tier cultivator, she still trembled upon seeing him.
"Master..." She heard her own dry voice. Even today, she still involuntarily called him master.
"Wretch, come here and accept your death!" Venerable Songfeng's hoarse voice was brimming with hatred.
Nie Wushang clenched her lower lip tightly, almost drawing blood.
Wretch... She remembered in her childhood, her master would often look at her and curse hatefully: Wretch.
She knew the master wasn't cursing her, but her mother. But today, this word was finally directed at her.
Wretch...
She recalled the year she was three, memories already blurred; she remembered being taken back to the master's cave abode, beaten and scolded day and night; she remembered being frequently thrown into the Origin Demon Pool, suffering unbearable agony...
Nie Wushang's gaze wandered blankly for a moment before finally steadying.
She took a deep breath, raised her head, and slowly said, "Master, I am not a wretch. My mother wasn't either."
Her voice was calm and steady, devoid of either anger or panic. Though she called him master, it was flat and plain, without respect, without fear.
The black clouds halted abruptly, then suddenly scattered as if blown by wind, revealing Venerable Songfeng's true appearance—a desiccated middle-aged man who seemed like skin draped over a skeleton.
Mo Tiange suddenly recalled her own master's evaluation of Venerable Songfeng. Neither human nor ghost, neither Daoist nor demon—simply a monster.
The Venerable Songfeng before her eyes was indeed just so. To call him human, his features lacked any vitality; to call him a ghost, yet he still fluctuated with movement.
In a raspy voice, he asked word by word, "What did you say?"
"Master," Nie Wushang looked at him, utterly fearless, "I said, I am not a wretch. My mother wasn't either."
"You..." Venerable Songfeng took a step forward, a skeletal hand stretching out as if to seize Nie Wushang.
But then a light sound was heard. An invisible sword energy circled in the air before plunging with a *thud* into the ground between the two of them, slicing through the stone slab.
Venerable Songfeng lifted his black-hole-like eyes, looking towards a spot not far from Nie Wushang.
Under his terrifying gaze, Jing Xingzhi grinned and raised the sword in his hand: "My apologies, a slip of the hand."
At such close range, even a Qi Refining cultivator couldn't possibly have a 'slip of the hand.' A black light flashed in Venerable Songfeng's eyes.
Yet Jing Xingzhi showed no fear, as if he hadn't noticed, casually admiring his own flying sword.
Venerable Songfeng's withered eyeballs rolled in their sockets as he slowly said, "So it's you few juniors."
Qin Xi smiled, as if meeting an old acquaintance, and cupped his hands in greeting: "It's been years, Venerable Songfeng. I trust you've been well?"
Mo Tiange followed with a greeting: "The last time I witnessed your esteemed presence was at Heavenly Demon Mountain. In the blink of an eye, nearly a hundred years have passed."
"You..." Venerable Songfeng was momentarily at a loss for words. If he remembered correctly, he had once done something that should have disgusted them thoroughly. Although he hadn't witnessed it happen, given the arrangements at the time, there shouldn't have been any accident. Why then were they...
Venerable Songfeng looked at Qin Xi and suddenly gave a sinister laugh: "Qin Shoujing, were you satisfied with the gift from Heavenly Demon Mountain?"
Hearing this, Qin Xi and Mo Tiange exchanged a smile. Venerable Songfeng was testing them. It seemed that incident from back then was still a masterpiece he was proud of.
"Master," it was Nie Wushang who interjected, speaking blandly, "This disciple forgot to tell you. That matter was ruined by me."
Venerable Songfeng whipped his head around, fixing his gaze on her. After a long moment, he roared, "Wretch, accept your death!"
Black clouds swept forth, arriving before Nie Wushang in an instant.
Nie Wushang raised an arm. A mass of Origin Demon energy materialized before her, taking the shape of a shield, forcibly enduring this blow.
"Pfft!" A mouthful of black blood sprayed out as Nie Wushang collapsed to the ground.
But, surprisingly, Nie Wushang merely wiped the corner of her mouth and stood up again.
That strike just now, Venerable Songfeng had struck in fury without holding back at all—a full-powered blow from a Late-Nascent Soul great cultivator. Logically, a newly advanced Nascent Soul cultivator like Nie Wushang, who had only formed her Nascent Soul a few years ago, should have been utterly unable to withstand it. Fortunately, the White Tiger's breath here suppressed Venerable Songfeng's demonic arts. Though his cultivation was profound and his movements unimpeded, its power was significantly discounted. Moreover, Nie Wushang was within the Spirit Concealment Formation, which not only left her strength unaffected but also blocked some of that strike's force. Her injuries were neither light nor severe.
Seeing that one blow hadn't killed her, Venerable Songfeng grew even more enraged. As he prepared to strike again, a puppet suddenly flashed over, blocking before him.
Following that, Mo Tiange said leisurely, "Venerable Songfeng, aren't you being a bit too impatient?"
Venerable Songfeng's withered eyeballs rolled in their sockets, looking at Nie Wushang, then at Mo Tiange, before finally sneering at Nie Wushang: "Wretch, you've really grown some skill, actually managing to get people to stand up for you!"
Looking at these four before him, Venerable Songfeng felt nothing but fury.
He hated her! This wretch, while following him, pretended to be obedient and proper, not daring to say an extra word, yet she was secretly disobedient, even taking advantage of his recovery in the Origin Demon Pool to steal his most important Qiankun Bag!
How could he not hate her? He hated her enough to want to grind her bones to dust. Because of her escape, he had lost numerous treasures. For the past hundred years, he hadn't dared to set foot in Kunwu once, lest his old rivals take advantage of his plight.
A hundred years! He had hidden in Wolf Leap Mountain for a century, and all of it was because of her! For the few hundred years of lifespan he had left, a hundred years—how precious was that?
And this wretch? She had spent a hundred years in carefree leisure with his Qiankun Bag, and even formed her Nascent Soul!
Thinking that her current cultivation and happy times were bought with his own humiliating century, he could barely control his hatred.
Especially since she had returned to Tianji and even brought others to plunder his treasure trove.
Wretch! Just like her mother!
However, fortunately, he hadn't lost his reason. This wretch now had helpers; she wasn't someone he could casually exterminate. These few juniors had all formed their Nascent Souls, especially Qin Shoujing, who had already advanced to the mid-stage. With the four of them joining forces, his own strength suppressed by the White Tiger's breath, and that old hag from Yunzhong watching covetously nearby, if he wasn't careful, he might end up besieged by them instead. That would be gaining a trifle only to lose a lot.
Gazing at Nie Wushang, Venerable Songfeng calmed down again, saying coldly, "What's this? Weren't you terribly afraid of becoming a demonic cultivator? Yet you dare cultivate the Origin Demon Great Art?"
Nie Wushang lowered her eyes, speaking blandly, "Whether it's the Dao or the demonic path lies in one's original heart. What does it matter what art one cultivates?"
These words enraged Venerable Songfeng once more. She stole his Qiankun Bag, took his Origin Demon Great Art, and now she dared discuss 'original heart' with him?
Black energy churned as he resumed his black cloud form, concealing his fury.
"A fine phrase, 'original heart,'" Venerable Songfeng said coldly. "Wretch, have you lived happily these past hundred years?"
"I am not a wretch." The moment he finished, Nie Wushang lifted her head. This time, her eyes held pride and anger. "What right do you have to call me a wretch, Master?"
Before Venerable Songfeng could respond, Nie Wushang took a step forward, standing ramrod straight: "I am a person, of flesh and blood, with thoughts and feelings. I was not born to be your slave. I owe you nothing." Staring at that black cloud, she said word by word, "You have no right to belittle me!"
This 'wretch' was merely a casual rebuke from Venerable Songfeng. Nie Wushang making such an issue of it was only for that final sentence.
I came into this world, owing gratitude only to my parents. I too am a precious life, not a dispensable existence. My existence has meaning because of myself, not because of you.
You have no right to belittle me.
"Master," Nie Wushang said slowly, "Once, I feared you. When I prepared to return to Tianji, I still thought I would never be able to face you in this lifetime. But now, I tell you: starting today, from this moment on, my life has nothing more to do with you. My life belongs only to myself."