Chapter 21 Returning to the Old Ground

Chen Mu had a sudden flash of insight and swung his sword without hesitation, intercepting Liu Ziming's full-force strike against the monster.

"Clang!" The sound of blade meeting blade rang out crisp and clear, and Chen Mu felt a slight numbness in his palm.

As expected, anyone capable of joining the Demon Suppression Division was no ordinary individual.

Liu Ziming was knocked back several steps by the interception and nearly fell, quickly steadying himself by planting his blade into the ground, his face still bearing a lingering ferocity.

"What is it?"

"Stop fighting, follow me!"

Chen Mu immediately changed direction. Liu Ziming knew he had a plan, so he didn't ask questions and followed without hesitation.

"This way!" Chen Mu activated Divine Void Step, dragging Liu Ziming as they wove and turned sharply through the crowd of monsters, barely finding a path to survival amidst the claws striking through the air.

Up ahead, the dilapidated courtyard gate finally emerged clearly from the blood mist.

The door was slightly ajar, and a dim yellow candlelight filtered through the gap—the lantern Blind Li had left to light their way, which had yet to go out.

The blood mist churning outside the courtyard was nowhere to be seen inside, as if separated by an invisible wall.

The two stepped into the courtyard and let out a long sigh of relief.

Looking back, the possessed villagers who had been relentlessly pursuing them stopped dead in their tracks as they approached within three zhang of the courtyard.

They crouched on the ground one by one, emitting hoarse growls from their throats, their slit pupils fixed intently on the two, yet they dared not take a single step further.

"Bang!"

The courtyard gate slammed shut behind them, and in an instant, all sounds vanished without a trace.

The villagers' growls, the scratching of claws on the ground, and even the foul-smelling blood mist were all blocked outside the door, as if nothing had ever happened.

Peace and quiet returned.

Liu Ziming collapsed onto the ground, his earlier bravado completely drained during their flight; now that he had narrowly escaped death, he felt a sliver of luck.

"They... dare not come in? My god, how do you know everything..."

Chen Mu scanned the surroundings indifferently; everything was as usual.

The mud walls, the woodpile, and the old dog breathing on its own, oblivious to everything.

There was no movement in the main house; it seemed Blind Li had not been awakened.

The door to the side room was still slightly ajar, and moonlight shone through a hole in the roof, leaving a halo of light on the ground.

It was eerily quiet.

"Rest first." Chen Mu sheathed his sword and stepped toward the side room. "We'll talk about everything when it's light."

"Will those things disperse after dawn?"

Liu Ziming scrambled up, followed closely behind, and entered the side room.

"Perhaps."

Chen Mu shook his head, but recalled that Sangye Village kept its doors and windows shut during the day, and this situation only appeared at night. If this pattern was accurate, they just needed to hold out until sunrise.

The two entered the side room one after the other, and Chen Mu closed the door behind him.

The room remained dilapidated, with dust covering the straw mats.

Liu Ziming sat down on the edge of the kang, unfastened his waterskin, gulped down several mouthfuls, and passed it to Chen Mu.

"Have some water. At least it'll fill you up. Don't even think about food; even if there was any in this godforsaken place, I wouldn't dare eat it."

Chen Mu shook his head, took the waterskin, but didn't drink.

He unbuckled his sword, placed it within reach, climbed onto the kang, sat cross-legged, and closed his eyes to regulate his breath.

Having fled all the way here, although he wasn't injured, the constant mental strain had truly taken a significant toll.

Only now, as he relaxed slightly, did the exhaustion immediately spread throughout his body.

He attempted to circulate his energy to activate Taibao Horizontal Training. His Qi and blood flowed slowly through his Meridians, and his Protective Aura activated on its own, forming an impenetrable barrier on the surface of his body, isolating all that corrupting energy.

Time passed slowly.

Liu Ziming had long since fallen into a deep sleep, clutching his blade while lying on his side on the earthen kang, his brow still furrowed with worry; he seemed extremely restless even in his dreams.

Chen Mu, meanwhile, slowly slipped into a mysterious state.

Perhaps due to hunger and fatigue, or perhaps due to the influence of the courtyard itself, his consciousness gradually blurred, the speed of his Qi and blood circulation slowed, and his breathing became light, soft, and long.

Then, he fell asleep.

His consciousness sank into Chaos.

...

It is unknown how much time had passed when Chen Mu suddenly opened his eyes to find himself standing on a desolate hillside.

The moonlight was ghastly pale, illuminating the desolate surroundings.

Not far behind him, the outline of Sangye Village was faintly visible, and the blood mist could still be seen churning within the village.

But before him lay a Mass Grave.

Tombs stood in rows, coffins were exposed, white bones were scattered everywhere, and a mournful wind swept through the withered grass, making a rustling sound.

Crows perched on dead branches, staring fixedly at Chen Mu, the uninvited guest, and the air was filled with the scent of decay.

Deep within the Mass Grave, the mountain walls were jagged.

Chen Mu frowned deeply; it was a dream, yet not an ordinary one.

Since undergoing the cleansing of his marrow, his mental willpower far exceeded that of ordinary people; even in dreams, as long as he focused his mind, he could immediately regain consciousness.

But at this moment, he clearly knew he was in a dream, yet he could not break free.

Forget it; since he was here, he would make the best of it. He would take it one step at a time.

What if he could find some clues?

Chen Mu steadied himself and walked toward the depths of the Mass Grave, as if something were guiding him.

Suddenly, a sound of weeping drifted over.

It was old, hoarse, and intermittent, as if the person might stop breathing at any moment.

Chen Mu paused for a moment but still followed the sound.

When he finally found the source of the sound, his eyelids suddenly twitched, and his hand subconsciously rested on the hilt of his sword...