After the Great Dao Died

The hall fell completely silent.

The bearded man’s corpse lay at the boundary between the firelight and the shadows.

The scholar rested his right hand on the hilt of his short sword, his gaze fixed on Chen Lingxi.

A martial artist at Silver Bone Consummation was dead just like that—killed by a figure who gave off no aura at all, someone who looked like nothing more than an ordinary man.

Who exactly is this man?

The scholar kept his face blank, but shock and doubt churned in his heart.

Spitting purple light from his mouth to kill a man in an instant... this is an unfathomable immortal’s technique! Just like Lord Mohe!

He had seen Lord Mohe’s methods firsthand.

He had seen him standing at the peak of a mountain, exhaling a long breath that swept a gale across the sky, blowing hundreds of armored soldiers off their feet.

He had seen him feeding that gold-swallowing toad; the toad would open its mouth, and gold and silver would pour into its belly like running water, only to spit out perfectly round, jade-like pills a moment later, wafting with medicinal fragrance.He had also seen him walking through the air, standing atop the clouds with his hands behind his back, his robes snapping in the wind, exactly like a legendary immortal descending to the mortal realm.

He had originally thought that Lord Mohe was the only Immortal of Men in this world capable of such miraculous feats.

But this man before him...

Could there actually be another immortal in this world?

He asked himself silently.

At this thought, the scholar finally moved his hand entirely away from his sword hilt.

The golden light around his body gradually dimmed.

He sat cross-legged by the campfire and looked toward Chen Lingxi.

”Good sir,” he said. ”Since you came here and only killed one of us, I assume you are not our enemy, nor did you kill purely for pleasure. May I ask what brings you here?”

Chen Lingxi did not answer immediately.

He raised his wine flask to his lips, tilted his head back, and took another drink.

His movements were unhurried, as casual as if he were drinking alone in his own home.

After drinking, Chen Lingxi glanced at the bearded man collapsed on the ground, looking at him the same way one might look at a dead dog on the side of the road.

”This man ate human flesh in front of me and fouled my eyes.” His gaze returned from the bearded man and settled on the scholar’s face. ”So I killed him.”

”You did not eat human flesh, so I spared your life to speak with you.”

He spoke lightly, but both the scholar—the Mohe Envoy—and Wang Chu fell into utter silence.

Neither dared to speak another word.

Chen Lingxi looked at the glowing coals. ”You come from Weishan Province?”

The scholar didn’t dare hesitate, nodding in confirmation.

Weishan Province was where Wu Mohe had raised his banner in rebellion, serving as the main base for the Mohe Army.

”I’ve heard that this Wu Mohe is an Immortal of Men,” Chen Lingxi said, a note of curiosity in his tone. ”It makes me want to meet him.”

The scholar’s expression shifted slightly at these words.

He weighed his thoughts for a moment before clasping his fist. ”May I ask by what title you are known, good sir?”

Chen Lingxi reached out and patted the Gold-Slaughtering Precious Saber at his waist, answering casually, ”Some call me—”

”General Zhiling.”

As those words fell, the hall grew even quieter.

The scholar furrowed his brow, searching through his memories.

General Zhiling.

He had never heard this title before. Doubts sprouted in his mind, but he dared not question further.

The lingering terror of that streak of purple light was still coiled in his heart; asking too much now would only invite trouble.

He simply nodded, committing the title firmly to memory, and asked, ”Then, General, your purpose here... is for...”

”I want to make a deal with Wu Mohe,” Chen Lingxi said softly, stating his intentions outright.

The scholar did not answer immediately.

He closed his eyes as he sat by the campfire, his brow slightly furrowed as though he were pondering something critical.

Wang Chu kept her head bowed, staring unblinkingly at the campfire, completely motionless.

After about six or seven breaths, the scholar opened his eyes. ”In that case, good sir, perhaps you should discuss this directly with my general.”

Discuss it directly?

Beneath his mask, Chen Lingxi’s eyebrows rose slightly.

The scholar didn’t elaborate. He simply reached into his robes and drew out a Jade Slip.

The Jade Slip was no larger than a palm, entirely translucent white, its texture smooth and warm, though it cast a faint, cold gleam in the firelight.

The slip bore no decorative patterns, save for three characters engraved on its front.

Wu Mohe.

Just that name alone radiated an unquestionable, overbearing dominance.

Chen Lingxi’s gaze fell on those three characters, his pupils shrinking slightly.

There’s a dense layer of spiritual energy clinging to the Jade Slip.

It’s a treasure.

As he wondered about it, the scholar laid the Jade Slip flat on the ground before his knees.

Then, he raised his right hand, bringing his index and middle fingers together like a sword.

Blood seeped from both fingertips.

The scholar’s face was solemn. With his sword-fingers, he lightly tapped the Jade Slip.

The instant his fingertips touched the jade, blood welled from the pads and seeped into the grooves on its surface.

The three characters for Wu Mohe shifted from translucent white to pale gold, and then from pale gold to a blinding golden-red, blazing fiercely upon the slip like three ignited balls of flame.

What is this?

Chen Lingxi held his breath.

The golden-red light on the Jade Slip grew increasingly intense, rising from its surface to condense into a thick cloud of mist in the air.

The mist began as a thin layer but swiftly grew thicker and denser, as if an invisible brush were sketching in the void—stroke by stroke, inch by inch—gradually tracing out a human figure.

Finally, the mist coalesced, transforming into a silhouette standing beside the campfire.

The figure was extremely tall, towering more than half a head over an ordinary man. His shoulders and back were as broad as a wall, yet he didn’t appear clumsy; instead, he possessed an indescribable, relaxed straightness.

He wore a long blue-gray robe without any patterns, save for a deep azure trim edging the collar and cuffs.

His long hair tumbled down his back, neither bound by a crown nor pinned by a hairpin, left completely loose to sway gently in the drafts flowing through the hall.

He stood with his hands behind his back, his spine as straight as a pine. Just standing there, he resembled a sharp sword keeping its edge concealed—utterly flawless while still, but promising the catastrophic force of a thunderbolt once drawn.

His facial features were indistinct, obscured by a hazy layer of mist, leaving only his eyes vaguely visible.

Those eyes were closed, the eyelids slightly lowered.

As Chen Lingxi’s gaze fell upon the figure, an indescribable, suffocating pressure washed over him.

This is Wu Mohe? This figure shouldn’t be his true body; it’s some sort of avatar technique... But for a mere avatar to be this tyrannical, his true cultivation... I’m afraid it must be far more profound than even the Crown Prince or Lin Suri!

Chen Lingxi was astounded.

Then, the figure slowly opened his eyes.

In that instant, Chen Lingxi felt a gaze land squarely upon him.

It wasn’t a sharp look, nor could it even be called fierce.

It simply drifted over casually, indifferently.

Yet this single, indifferent glance caused the spiritual qi in Chen Lingxi’s body to violently stagnate.

The streak of azure qi in his dantian felt as if it had been crushed by an immense weight, violently contracting and curling into a tight ball, too afraid to move.

The Concealed Edge Method circulated madly within him, reinforcing his spiritual qi barrier layer after layer until it barely managed to block the penetration of that gaze.

Chen Lingxi’s heart sank slightly.

This Wu Mohe was even more unfathomable than he had anticipated.

During his Thorough Awakening simulations, he had seen Ying Chi; he had seen Lin Suri; he had seen Lu Baizhong; he had even seen the Crown Prince who had crushed the swordsman to death with his Treasure Bottle purple qi.

But none of those people had ever given him a feeling like this.

Ying Chi was deeply hidden and unrevealing; Lin Suri was as tranquil as still water; Lu Baizhong was loftily detached.

And Wu Mohe...

He merely stood there and gave him a single glance, yet it gave Chen Lingxi the terrifying illusion that his life and death rested entirely on this man’s merest whim.

The avatar’s gaze shifted from Chen Lingxi to the bearded man lying dead on the floor.

He gave him a single passing glance before looking away.

There was no anger in that look, no pity, not even the slightest ripple of emotion.

It was like seeing a withered leaf blown down by the wind, completely beneath notice.

His gaze returned to Chen Lingxi.

This time, there was a touch more seriousness in his eyes.

Meeting that stare, Chen Lingxi didn’t move a muscle.

He kept his back perfectly straight, resting his hands on his knees with his palms facing upward and his fingers slightly spread.

It was an incredibly relaxed posture, like a man sunbathing in his own backyard, lacking even half a shred of defensiveness.

Yet within his dantian, his spiritual qi was churning frantically.

The Cyan Edge Method, the Dragon Roar technique, and the Purple True Precious Qi—all three killer moves were coiled and ready to strike.

All it would take was a single thought, and they would violently erupt.

Wu Mohe stared at him for a few breaths, then suddenly took a step.

Just one step.

The avatar stepped completely out of the mist and sat cross-legged by the campfire.

His movements were fluid and natural, so smooth it felt as if he had always been sitting there.

Wang Chu finally raised her head.

She looked at the figure sitting by the fire, then at the Jade Slip, and finally at the scholar.

Her lips trembled a few times, but in the end, no sound came out.

She had seen more unfathomable things tonight than in her entire twenty-odd years of life combined.

First, this man in black had spat a beam of purple light from his mouth, instantly killing a martial artist at Silver Bone Consummation.

Next, the scholar had used his blood as a catalyst to summon this avatar of mist.

And then, this mist avatar proved capable of walking, sitting, seeing, and judging.

How could this still be considered human?

These were clearly the methods of gods and immortals.

She lowered her head, swallowing the churning waves of horror and awe back into her stomach.

Once she returned, she would have to explain everything that happened tonight to Lin Suri, word for word.

The campsite remained silent for a few breaths.

The campfire crackled, and the night wind howled.

The avatar sat by the fire, his blue-gray robes reflecting a dark, solemn luster in the flames, his long hair cascading down his back and fluttering slightly in the draft.

His face remained blurred, veiled by an incredibly faint layer of mist, leaving only his eyes distinctly clear.

His irises were incredibly dark, resembling two bottomless whirlpools so profound that no light could pierce their depths.

At this moment, those very eyes were looking directly at Chen Lingxi.

Meeting that stare head-on, Chen Lingxi suddenly spoke.

”Wu Mohe?”