Chapter 131: Go back and be the senior brother you’re meant to be
Mo Cunzhi seemed to freeze in place.
His eyes were pitch black, with a thick, ink-like darkness swirling within them. It was the demonic energy that had been sealed for so long.
It was the instinct of his demonic heritage, all the emotions that surged
“Impossible, you’re lying to me,” he still spoke, word by word, futilely trying to convince anyone, but convincing no one.
Yu Le’s lips curved slightly as he just watched him, feeling the wild beating of Mo Cunzhi’s heart beneath his palm, but he didn’t add fuel to the fire.
The sky was overcast, and a wild wind swept through the forest, stirring the old leaves, carrying away Mo Cunzhi’s powerless words.
He muttered to himself, so softly it seemed like he was only speaking to himself:
“Absurd, how could I be a demon? I’ve killed so many demons.”
In the moment doubt arose, his decades of life and beliefs began to falter, as if a towering mountain could crumble in a lightning strike.
“Master knows. I need to ask him, get a clear answer…”
Mo Cunzhi’s chest heaved violently. Suddenly, he raised his head to look at Yu Le standing before him and rasped, “Get out of my way!”
His overwhelming emotions suddenly erupted, and the demonic energy restraining his body snapped like broken ropes, making a sharp, ear-piercing sound as they shattered one after another.
His clothes billowed, and even his hair tie snapped.
His skin cracked with countless fissure-like wounds as he forcibly broke through the bindings, his bloodshot eyes filled with uncontrollable ferocity and madness.
Yu Le stepped back, his hand lightly brushing across Mo Cunzhi’s chest, triggering a wisp of demonic energy. The seal inside him, already losing control, dimmed, and the demonic energy surged out, breaking free.
In an instant, the dark purple demonic energy engulfed Mo Cunzhi’s body, obscuring his moonlit face.
The clouds had covered the moon.
Yu Le stood a few steps away from Mo Cunzhi, watching him stagger forward in a daze, still muttering something about “getting answers.”
He kindly reminded him: “Senior Brother, why don’t you take a look at what’s surrounding you right now?”
Mo Cunzhi’s heavy footsteps came to a halt. When his gaze fell upon the demonic energy swirling around him, it was as though he suddenly woke up.
This man, who once stood as immovable as black stone amidst the wind and snow, now wavered upon seeing the demonic energy enveloping his entire body. The shattered emotions in his eyes became even more pronounced.
“…Demonic energy.”
The demonic energy pouring from his body made Mo Cunzhi, for the first time, feel the presence of the demon core within his chest, within his heart.
He had never intentionally cultivated demonic arts, yet that demon core was even more powerful than the inner core he had painstakingly cultivated.
It was absurd.
He truly was a demon.
Since childhood, his master had taught him that those who practiced demonic arts were fallen, their hands stained with blood, and they deserved to die.
Demons born of the demonic race were even more sinful. They were born with inherent evil, arriving in the world burdened with guilt.
Demons loved death, reveled in slaughter, indulged their desires, and brought chaos to the world… they should be killed on sight.
And he was a demon.
Just as Yu Le had said, Mo Cunzhi finally understood the deep disgust and fear hidden beneath his master’s seemingly strict punishments all these years.
The fury and madness Mo Cunzhi had displayed for just a brief moment faded like a raging fire doused by a torrential downpour, leaving behind nothing but desolate ashes.
The black stone and the white snow, in the end, turned to ashen gray.
Suddenly, he raised his hand and thrust it toward his own heart.
But at the last moment, another hand stopped him.
Yu Le’s hand was soft and pale, long and beautiful, giving no hint of the terrifying strength it concealed.
“What are you doing? Now that you know you’re a demon, you want to kill yourself? I’m afraid it won’t be that easy.”
Yu Le’s hand firmly grasped Mo Cunzhi’s large, scarred hand, preventing him from doing any further harm to himself.
His tone was casual.
Mo Cunzhi looked at him blankly, his black hair clinging to the sides of his face:
“Demons are born with a demon core. I might as well take it out and see what it looks like… Besides, don’t you want it too?”
He finally understood why his junior brother had been so submissive and compromising, even going so far as to offer himself to him. It was all for the demon core inside his body.
Because of this demon core, no matter how well he did, he could never win their master’s favor, and the sect he had protected for years would see him as an enemy.
Because of this demon core, his junior brother, who despised him, didn’t hesitate to seek a chance to dual-cultivate with him, creating a false relationship that had shaken his heart.
For a moment, Mo Cunzhi wanted to laugh, but his body had already stiffened like stone, making it impossible for him to laugh.
As for crying… he had never known what it felt like to cry in his entire life.
He couldn’t remember the times in his childhood when he would cry from pain or sorrow; all he remembered was his master’s cold, heartless gaze.
What was he supposed to do now, after learning that everything he had known had been overturned?
The heavy clouds, which had been gathering for so long, still hadn’t burst into a downpour, even at this point. Instead, they continued to press down, building and squeezing tighter.
“Let go,” Mo Cunzhi said unsteadily, as more demonic energy surged from his body.
Unlike the clean, sharp exchange in their earlier duel, the clash between their demonic energies was silent and intense.
The two opposing forces of demonic energy, originally from the same source, devoured each other in their struggle, becoming impossible to distinguish.
Yu Le narrowed his eyes. He was using a great deal of force, but Mo Cunzhi was even more stubborn. He didn’t even care that Yu Le was gripping his hand—he intended to plunge it into his chest, taking Yu Le’s hand along with it.
With a flick of his sleeve, Yu Le interrupted Mo Cunzhi’s mad action.
Mo Cunzhi crashed into a tree and spat out a mouthful of dark, tainted blood.
There was a shallow wound on his chest, and Yu Le’s fingers were stained with his blood. Stepping forward, Yu Le grabbed him roughly, gripping his face and forcibly lifting it.
“You look stunning when you’re losing your mind—I like it.”
Yu Le’s smile was broad, but his eyes were cold, filled with scrutiny and disappointment. “But is this all it takes for you to break? I thought you were tougher than this.”
Mo Cunzhi looked up at him, and in that instant, a single raindrop fell from the dark clouds, hitting his cheek and slowly rolling down.
It mingled with the blood on Yu Le’s hand, as if it were tears of blood flowing from Mo Cunzhi’s shattered eyes, a sight that sent a chill through the heart.
Yet, his rare and broken appearance possessed a striking, breathtaking beauty that stirred something deep within.
Yu Le wiped his thumb across Mo Cunzhi’s face, his voice low and suggestive. “Have you given up completely? Do you care about nothing anymore? I don’t believe it.”
His fingers moved downward, deftly loosening Mo Cunzhi’s clothing, as he looked down at him with a provocative gaze.
Mo Cunzhi’s mind flashed with memories that now pierced him with pain, and the fire began to rekindle in his once dull eyes as Yu Le continued his movements.
Angrily, Mo Cunzhi grabbed Yu Le’s hand and shoved him away from his body.
Yu Le chuckled. “If you really didn’t care about anything, why bother resisting? You’re willing to dig out your own demon core, but you can’t bear me using you to cultivate?”
Mo Cunzhi said nothing, his body covered in blood and disarray, his eyes filled with such hatred it seemed he could kill Yu Le on the spot. The dignified senior brother he once was had vanished completely.
He lunged forward, and Yu Le blocked his attacks hundreds of times.
Finally, the heavens opened, and the rain poured down, drenching both of them in moments.
When Mo Cunzhi reached for his throat, Yu Le didn’t resist. He let Mo Cunzhi clasp his neck, even offering him a cryptic smile.
Mo Cunzhi’s hand was calloused and rough, and on more than one occasion, he had complained to this person, saying his palms were too coarse—his waist ached when held, his back hurt when touched.
Now, standing in the rain, Mo Cunzhi’s breath came in ragged, drowning gasps.
He wanted to tighten his grip and release the murderous intent in his heart, but knowing that this person could not die so easily, his hand kept trembling, resisting his own will and holding back.
The torrential rain washed the blood from his face, and a haze of mist clouded Mo Cunzhi’s vision.
He closed his eyes for a moment and, in the end, released his hand, letting it fall weakly to his side.
Amidst the endless rain, he sensed Yu Le approaching and then felt, as if in a dream, a light kiss fall on his face.
A sigh, half pity, half lament, whispered in his ear: “Go back. Go back and be the senior brother you’re meant to be.”
No one in the sect, except for the master, knew of his demonic lineage.
So he could still return to Wuyue Immortal Sect, continue being the senior brother that everyone revered, and walk the path of the chief disciple of the sect, with a bright future ahead of him… Could he really?
No, he couldn’t. From the moment he learned of his demonic bloodline, it had become impossible.
In the vast world, at some unknown moment, he realized he was alone.
But he had always been alone.
The black-clad figure standing in the rain for so long finally disappeared, the downpour washing over the shivering dead grass and a lone, cobalt-blue sword tassel lying on the ground.
When Mo Cunzhi returned to Wuyue Immortal Sect, he was still wearing the black clothes that had been drenched by the rain.
Though his figure remained tall, his hair was disheveled, his face was drained of all color, and a gaping, torn wound was still visible on his chest.
As he walked up the stone steps of the mountain gate, drops of water fell from the hem of his clothes onto the stone.
The “water” dripping onto the white jade steps was red, a pale crimson tinged with blood.
The fellow disciples on the path, seeing his disheveled appearance, stood fearfully to the side, not daring to speak to him.
And so, Mo Cunzhi walked step by step, ignoring everyone, until he reached Quxing Peak, where the sect master resided.
…
When Bai Feishuang heard that Senior Brother had returned, she immediately rushed toward Quxing Peak.
The grand hall where the sect master resided was always imposing and solemn, but today, half of the magnificent structure had collapsed, and the stone steps and railings were destroyed.
The young attendants who usually swept the mountain paths looked panicked. When they saw her approaching, they rushed to tell her about the scene of the fight between the sect master and the senior brother that had just unfolded.
“I even heard Senior Brother say that he was going to leave the sect… The sect master was furious…”
Bai Feishuang was stunned, unable to believe it.
Her senior brother had always held the master in the highest regard—how could he raise a hand against the master? How could he want to leave the sect?
Inside the hall, her senior brother was nowhere to be seen, only the sect master stood there.
“Master! What happened to Senior Brother?” Bai Feishuang asked urgently.
“There is no more ‘Senior Brother,'” the sect master interrupted coldly. “Mo Cunzhi has been expelled from the sect. He committed a grave offense and will now be imprisoned in the forbidden grounds of the back mountain, never to leave for the rest of his life!”
Several peaks in the back mountain had been designated as forbidden grounds, but only one area, surrounded by powerful formations, was the true forbidden zone.
Many disciples didn’t even know what was there, as they weren’t allowed near the back mountain.
The real forbidden ground wasn’t particularly terrifying; in fact, there was nothing there at all.
No people, no living creatures.
When the severely injured Mo Cunzhi was thrown into the forbidden grounds, he lay for a long time on the sharp blades of grass, his blood from new wounds soaking the greenery beneath him.
His eyes were tightly shut, and he had already slipped into unconsciousness.
After a long while, someone approached him, their black boots stepping into his blood, crouching down beside him to examine his face.
“How pitiful,” said the young man who shouldn’t have been there.
