The moonlight-colored disciple robe was in tatters. Beneath the tear running from the left shoulder to the waist was a wound deep enough to show bone.
Her small face was smeared with blood and grime. Her usually lively eyes were now dull and listless, but the moment she lifted her gaze to Shen Mo, a flicker of an unfamiliar, dark shadow passed through them.
Qin Shuying moved like lightning, reaching the side of the fallen figure almost simultaneously with Shen Mo.
She did not immediately kneel down.
Instead, her right hand formed a sword finger, and a beam of spiritual light carrying a sharp, investigative intent swept over Chao’er’s entire body with incredible speed.
Lin Jingzhe flashed forward, pressing two fingers to Chao’er’s glabella, sending her spiritual power inside.
A moment later, her brow furrowed tightly. “Her meridians are severely damaged, her dantian is depleted, her soul is shaken… but her life is not in danger.”
Qin Shuying frowned.
She had not detected any obvious traces of demonic qi erosion or possession.
There was only severe injury, weakness, depleted spiritual power, and a lingering trace of the chaotic, mixed aura from deep within the Secret Realm.
It did indeed contain the unique, yin coldness of the Demon Abyss, but it was faint and was rapidly being dispersed by Chao’er’s own weak vitality and the external spiritual qi.
It was Chao’er herself.
At least, for now.
Shen Mo looked down at Chao’er’s waist and abdomen.
The wound was hideous and terrifying, hinting at what she must have encountered in the Secret Realm.
“Let’s take her back for treatment first.”
Lin Jingzhe crouched down, intending to take Chao’er from Shen Mo’s arms, but he held her tightly, unwilling to let go.
Shen Mo looked down at Chao’er, using his sleeve to wipe the blood from her face over and over, his movements as gentle as if handling fragile glass.
Tears fell on Chao’er’s forehead, spreading into a small dark patch.
“Master’s Husband…”
An extremely faint voice sounded, weak as a thread of air.
Shen Mo shuddered violently, his head snapping up.
Chao’er had opened her eyes at some point.
Those amber eyes, always clear and lively, were now veiled with a layer of weak mist, but they were indeed open.
She looked at Shen Mo, blinked very slowly, then tried to pull up the corners of her mouth to smile, but the movement tugged at her wound, causing her to scrunch up her small face in pain.
“Hurts…” she whimpered softly, just like when she used to act spoiled as a child.
“It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Master’s Husband is here, Chao’er, don’t be afraid…” Shen Mo babbled incoherently, fumbling to pull out all the elixir bottles from his robe. He poured out the best wound medicine and was about to stuff it into Chao’er’s mouth.
“I’ll do it.” Qin Shuying took the elixir, dissolving it with her spiritual power before channeling it into Chao’er’s mouth.
As the gentle medicinal power spread, a little color returned to Chao’er’s face, and her breathing stabilized somewhat.
She leaned against Shen Mo’s chest, but her eyes slowly turned to look at the other two women.
Qin Shuying. Lin Jingzhe.
Her gaze swept over their faces.
Slowly. Carefully.
As if she was seeing something else through them.
When Qin Shuying met her gaze, her heart inexplicably skipped a beat.
Was that… killing intent?
She wasn’t sure.
But a trace of hatred was unmistakable.
“Master’s Husband… it hurts so much…”
Chao’er buried her face in the crook of Shen Mo’s neck, greedily inhaling the faint, comforting scent of soap on him.
At an angle no one could see, the corner of her mouth curled up in an extremely incongruous, eerie arc.
Her tongue lightly licked her lips, and a violent purple light surged in the depths of her eyes.
In an instant, the expression on her face was covered by fear again.
“I… I escaped… it was so scary… so dark… so many monsters were chasing me…”
She tried to move, but the unnatural bend of her left arm and the intense pain throughout her body made her groan again, cold sweat beading on her skin.
She weakly shrank further into Shen Mo’s embrace, mumbling softly, “Master’s Husband, I’m cold…”
“We’re going back.”
Shen Mo took off his outer robe, wrapping Chao’er up securely before carefully picking her up.
She was too light, like a body about to rot, and cold as ice.
He held her steadily, but staggered slightly as he stood up.
The days of sleepless, arduous cultivation and the extreme emotional turmoil just now had almost drained all his strength.
Qin Shuying reached out, steadying his arm and channeling a thread of spiritual power into him.
Shen Mo’s body stiffened, but he did not push her away.
“Chao’er.”
Qin Shuying’s cool voice rang out.
Her gaze, sharp as an ice blade, fell on the girl’s face.
Her tone was calm and even, yet carried an intangible pressure. “The Demon Abyss is a death trap where even Nascent Soul cultivators struggle to survive. How did you get out?”
As soon as these words were spoken, the people from the various peaks who had not yet dispersed, including Lin Jingzhe, pricked up their ears.
This was indeed the biggest point of suspicion.
A Foundation Establishment disciple, falling into the Demon Abyss, could actually come out alive?
Even if she looked half-dead, it was far too unbelievable.
Chao’er seemed frightened by the question, her body shrinking back as she leaned closer to Shen Mo, her tears flowing more heavily.
Haltingly, with lingering fear, she recalled, “I… I don’t know… When I fell, I seemed to hit something… something soft… like… very thick vines or a net… it cushioned the fall… I didn’t die from the impact directly… Down there… down there were many branching paths.”
“It was very dark, with strange sounds… I, I ran blindly, hid in a very small crevice in the rocks… ate all my elixirs, used the talismans Master’s Husband gave me… hid for a long time… Later… later it seemed like I heard a huge tremor and light outside… I crawled toward where the light was… kept crawling… finally saw that crack… then, then I don’t remember anything…”
Her tone was sincere, full of details.
It sounded exactly like a child who had miraculously survived a desperate situation, her memories fragmented by extreme terror.
As she spoke, she coughed from agitation and pain, fresh blood seeping from the corner of her mouth.
Shen Mo’s heart ached unbearably, especially when he heard “used the talismans Master’s Husband gave me.” He felt a pang of sorrow, thinking of the talismans and elixirs he had prepared for her, which she had actually used in that desperate situation.
Qin Shuying did not speak, only watched her quietly.
Her gaze was sharp, as if trying to pierce through her fragile, frightened exterior to see what lay within.
Chao’er, tears streaming, looked at Shen Mo and whimpered softly, “Master’s Husband… I… I want to go home…”
Lin Jingzhe examined Chao’er.
The wounds were indeed from sharp claws, scrapes against rocks, and even grazes from some kind of corrosive energy.
The internal injuries couldn’t be faked either, especially the damage to her meridians and the depletion of her spiritual power, which could only result from prolonged, extreme fleeing and struggle.
The story sounded like unbelievably good luck, but within Secret Realms, coincidences and chance occurrences were hard to explain.
A person’s survival potential in a desperate situation could sometimes exceed imagination.
Right now, saving her was the priority.
She looked at Qin Shuying, her meaning clear: suspicions could be investigated slowly later, but the person needed to be taken back first.
“Back to the peak.”
Qin Shuying withdrew her gaze, her tone returning to its usual aloofness.
The doubts were not completely dispelled, but pressing a disciple who had just crawled back from death’s door, severely injured and on the brink of death, was not wise at this moment.
“Master’s Husband will take you back. It’s alright now, it’s all over.”
Shen Mo soothed her in a gentle voice.
But Qin Shuying moved first, a gentle surge of spiritual power supporting Chao’er.
“Your mind is unsettled. I’ll do it.”
She was concise. Her left hand, clad in its wide black sleeve, swept out, enveloping Chao’er.
With her right hand, she grabbed Shen Mo, transforming into a streak of sword light that shot toward Yunyin Mountain.
Lin Jingzhe curled her lip slightly and followed on her sword.
Below them stretched winding mountain ranges.
The forested mountains, once filled with the cries of spirit birds, were now covered by a thin layer of mist at some point.
This mist was not ordinary water vapor; it carried a faint, cloyingly sweet scent.
Like old, rusted blood, or like humus buried deep underground.
Qin Shuying led the way on her sword, her white clothes purer than snow, her sword light like a rainbow.
But her brow was tightly furrowed, and the sword in her hand, Frost Chill, emitted a low, continuous hum.
“Something’s wrong.”
Qin Shuying abruptly halted her sword light, holding her longsword horizontally before her chest.
Her Nascent Soul Peak-level divine sense spread out like a tide, only to find that when it probed into the mist below the mountain, it vanished without a trace, like clay oxen entering the sea.
From the originally peaceful mountain forest below, three thick, ink-black plumes of qi suddenly erupted, shooting skyward!
This black qi was not pure demonic qi; it was mixed with a nauseatingly dense stench of rotting corpses and baleful resentment.
In an instant, it locked onto the sword light speeding through the air, closing in from three directions in a triangular formation with astonishing speed!