Journey to the End of the Night
Chapter 94 - 94 94 The Devil's Whisper

94: Chapter 94: The Devil’s Whisper 94: Chapter 94: The Devil’s Whisper Meng Zifei, whose mind was incredibly sharp, combined with the recent events at Kongcang Mountain, how could he fail to discern the hidden meanings in this person’s words?

His expression immediately turned extremely unsightly, his face contorted with rage as he said, “Dismiss the thoughts in your mind!”

“Hahaha.”

The man in the purple robe let out a hearty laugh that did not match his fierce ghost mask at all, “The Six Rivers of the Demon World are the ultimate power that everyone dreams of.

Even Wen Yu, who hailed from the Taixuan Sect, coveted them endlessly.

Young Master Meng has done well in saving face, adopting an attitude as if he fears it might not be enough.

But what you truly think in your heart, only you know.”

With that, the man slowly raised his arm, his clearly articulated index finger seemingly casually pointing out, but it was directly aimed at Meng Zifei’s heart.

Meng Zifei heard the deep certainty in his words and immediately felt a surge of anger at being underestimated:

“Don’t impose Wen Yu’s petty tricks on me.

The cultivation techniques of the Demon Sect might be strong, but they are nothing more than evil acts of seizing the Great Dao, a path abhorred by natural justice!

Such actions must be punished!”

Under the Evil Ghost mask, a clucking sound suddenly emerged as the person slowly shook his head, a tone of regret in his voice, “If what Young Master Meng says is true, the one who should be punished most of all shouldn’t be you?”

“Do not think to bewilder my Dao heart!”

Young Master Meng’s expression was sternly resolute.

Quietly, one hand behind his back silently performed the Wind Summoning Technique.

Knowing well that there was no possibility of killing this deeply cultivated individual in front of him, he also refused to sit and await death.

Meng Zifei’s eyes locked deadly on the ghost mask above, thinking he should at least know the person’s appearance.

If he was lucky enough to return alive, it wouldn’t be in vain to live up to Brother Si Chen’s expectations.

“Bewilder your Dao heart?

Young Master Meng, you are overthinking this.”

The man in the purple robe chuckled indifferently, his finger pointing at Meng Zifei’s chest trembled lightly.

The ground beneath Meng Zifei’s heel suddenly spat out a spike of earth, mercilessly piercing through his spell-casting palm.

The Astral Wind that had just risen in the valley instantly quieted down, and crimson Blood Pearls stained the ground red.

Yet before Meng Zifei could react, he heard the other astonishingly say, “Young Master Meng says my Demon Sect’s techniques rob others of their Great Dao, but what about the Spirit Root shimmering in your chest right now?

Is it genuinely yours?”

Meng Zifei’s mind thundered as if struck by a bolt from the blue.

The color drained from his handsome face, and his lips quivered, unable to utter a single word, the numbness spreading as if he couldn’t even feel the pain of the spike through his palm anymore.

A breeze stirred, rustling the leaves.

The fragmented hair on Meng Zifei’s forehead swayed, and with a flickering purple afterimage, the eerie man suddenly appeared before him.

The fierce ghost mask was extremely close to Meng Zifei’s nose.

The cold breath assaulted him, and the deep eyes beneath the mask carried a darkness that seemed to see through one’s heart and soul.

Meng Zifei saw those eyes slightly narrow, carrying a hint of malicious amusement as he said:

“Young Master Meng, you indeed have immense courage, not to fret even when your ever-present horsetail whisk and the sword Chenyue were confiscated, but instead you come seeking trouble with me.

If she knew, beneath the Nine Springs, she would surely cry.”

“Say no more!”

Meng Zifei burst out, his blood-drenched palm loudly snapping the hard-as-iron earth spike in his palm into pieces!

His reddened eyes filled with endless regret and pain, he glared directly into those eyes:

“If you know all this, then you should understand how much I detest the Demon Sect!

If not for a moment of foolishness, how could I have been beguiled by the Ghost Sect Young Master of Jiuyuan Mountain?”

A sudden pain in his chest, it was the purple-robed man’s slender index finger pressing against his heart.

The sharp fingertip, like a knife, pierced through the fabric of his clothes, inching into his flesh right atop the gentle Spirit Root in his heart.

He maliciously manipulated that Spirit Root with his finger, observing Meng Zifei’s pallid face as if finding perverse pleasure in his tormented soul.

“Hahaha, beguiled?

If not for your heart’s crazy craving, even the Ghost Sect Young Master’s eloquent tongue could not have shaken your heart.

Over two hundred years, Young Master Meng, you’ve roamed about performing heroic deeds, saving lives and helping the distressed, isn’t it all to atone for that guilt in your heart?

It’s not just Shang Ying who died because of you.

Now, who are you performing all these good deeds for?”

Under those unthreatening eyes, Meng Zifei staggered back three steps.

In the face of the purple-robed man’s gentle yet venomous words, something inside his fiery eyes seemed to slowly shatter.

Yet, the man was a demon clad in pure warmth, showing no intention of letting him go.

“The stolen Spirit Root indeed serves you well, doesn’t it, Young Master Meng?

Recognize your reality and yourself.

Though you regret, you must admit the pleasure of controlling power in your hands after breaking through the realm over these two hundred years,—it’s the immortal path you long for.

Even if you were given another chance to choose again, you would still make the same choice, wouldn’t you?”

“No…

I wouldn’t…” Meng Zifei’s expression was of extreme anguish, his voice anxious as if desperately proving something.

But his unfocused gaze truly lacked any persuasive power.

“No, you would!” The man in the purple robe spoke with utter certainty.

“Even knowing that removing Shang Ying’s Spirit Root would damage her fundamentally, reducing her lifespan to far less than a mortal’s, you still set up that scenario and obtained the power that wasn’t yours to take.”

Slowly retracting that blood-covered index finger, he didn’t bother Meng Zifei’s Spirit Root but gently patted his cheek as if trying to wake him.

“Now, with new, more powerful forces laid before you, inheriting the River of Fresh Blood, you will stand at the pinnacle of the world.

What of the Tianxi Thirteen Swords, what of the Taixuan Nine Classics, the Cangwu Ten Hidden Palaces?

They will all become the bloody stepping stones beneath your feet.

So, what are you still hesitating for?

Come to my side, there you will find a vast landscape beyond your wildest imagination.” His voice was laden with beguiling power, and Meng Zifei’s eyes began to tremble wildly.

Eventually, he subconsciously touched the familiar spot on his arm; the horsetail whisk was gone, just like the person buried on the hillside of Guangmeng City would never appear before him again.

He slowly exhaled, his muscles relaxing as if deflated, but the dying flame in his eyes reignited.

With an expressionless face, Meng Zifei pushed aside the hand on his cheek, and said coldly, “So it turns out your goal was never Wen Yu, but me.”