Driven by Madness
However, this near-mad obsession was the very driving force that had carried Jekyeong this far.
“Cheongo! Muk-su!”
Shaking off his lingering regrets, Jekyeong finally remembered Cheongo and Muk-su. Sure enough, they were sprawled helplessly on the ground, trembling. Jekyeong raised his tail to nudge them awake, but just as he was about to swing it, Cheongo's faint voice drifted over.
“M-Master Seonin...”
“What?”
Cheongo raised its head with great difficulty. Its tiny eyes, filled with a spellbound gaze, stared up at the sky where the ghost qi was gathering.
“It's the Seonin...”
Before Cheongo's soft murmur could even fade, a massive hole tore open in the sky without warning, and a blinding light came pouring through.
No One Desires It
The Foundation Establishment realm of the human race. The Great Yao realm of the beast race. Though their names differed, the goal of those who reached the second realm of the celestial path was the same.
The third realm of the celestial path: Core Formation.
Core Formation meant taking a single, painstakingly refined thread of energy, nurturing it continuously, and condensing it to form a spiritual embryo—the Core.
No one could ever fathom how many cultivators had despaired before that hopeless wall, cursing the heavens as they withered away.
And those who withered away were no mere novices who had just stepped onto the celestial path. They were true cultivators who had proudly walked its genuine road.
In remote regions, they were the prodigies of the cultivation world—men who could boast of being chosen by the heavens, and everyone would nod in agreement. Yet, before the wall of Core Formation, they were nothing more than mere ants.
Shin Baekrim was no different. He was the leader of a sect, a proud late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator, but even to him, the wall of Core Formation felt desperately distant and hopeless.
Looking at Chaesan Noyao, who was engulfed in the storm of ghost qi, he opened his mouth.
“A Yin-Fiend Ghost Core, is it?”
At the stage of Core Formation, humans formed a Gold Core, while beasts formed a Demon Core. Through ages of accumulated history and experience, these were determined to be the Cores most suited to each race.
Yet, there were always exceptions. Many paths existed—and had existed—on the celestial way. Even in the present cultivation world, there were quite a few severed lineages, among which was the Ghost Path.
Literally, the way of ghosts. A lineage of the celestial path meant for the dead.
“How unexpected. You recognized it at a single glance?”
Chaesan Noyao raised his eyes in surprise. Instead of curiosity, a deep wariness flickered in his gaze.
“Why so surprised? Aside from a Demon Core, what else could a Yin spirit like you choose but a Ghost Core—specifically, a Yin-Fiend Ghost Core?”
Shin Baekrim spoke dismissively, but the wariness in Chaesan Noyao's eyes only deepened.
In the modern cultivation world, it was incredibly rare to find anyone who knew about the cultivation system or characteristics of the Ghost Path. Chaesan Noyao was of the beast race, and because he was a rare Yin spirit, he had miraculously come into contact with a Ghost Path inheritance.
That was how his cultivation had begun, and ever since, he had relentlessly devoured all kinds of knowledge regarding the Ghost Path. It was through such long, painstaking efforts that he had discovered the existence of the Yin-Fiend Ghost Core and the method to form it.
Yet, Shin Baekrim knew about the Yin-Fiend Ghost Core? Was this another piece of that lofty human inheritance? Perhaps, but Chaesan Noyao's instincts screamed that it wasn't that simple.
“Shin Baekrim, whatever schemes you harbor in your heart, it is already too late. The ghost pillar has already connected heaven and earth, so One Qi Penetration is only a matter of time. If you wish to live, withdraw now.”
“You seem afraid.”
“What?”
Shin Baekrim quietly glanced at the pillar of ghost qi surrounding Chaesan Noyao before turning his gaze to the sky. He had poured his dharma power into it time and again, even unleashing the River-Reaching Scroll at full strength, but that black sky still howled with an ominous resonance.
“Ghost Net Shrouding the Heavens. Indeed, the spells of the Ghost Path are troublesome to deal with. Unless one prepares in advance, it is difficult for an opponent of equal rank to counter them.”
“You bastard...!”
Chaesan Noyao's eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
“For a Yin spirit who has lived over a thousand years, you are far too naive. No, that is not it. The opportunity for Core Formation must have blinded you. Yes, that must be it. I can well understand. Who among those brought to their knees before the wall of Core Formation wouldn't be?”
With a light wave of Shin Baekrim's hand, a simple talisman appeared before him. Compared to the River-Reaching Scroll, which always flaunted its presence with a mystical glow whenever it appeared, this single talisman looked almost pitifully plain.
Yet, the moment it appeared, an instinctive dread washed over Chaesan Noyao—an anxiety bordering on terror.
The instincts of a late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator, especially one on the very cusp of Core Formation, were a highly reliable source of truth.
“The Sun-Exchanging Talisman?!”
Chaesan Noyao shrieked in disbelief.
“You recognize it.”
Shin Baekrim let out a faint smile.
“Chaesan Nogoe. Did you truly believe no one knew what you were planning?”
“...”
Shin Baekrim's calm gaze clashed in midair with Chaesan Noyao's trembling eyes.
“A Core Formation cultivator. If a Core Formation cultivator were to be born, the entire balance of power in the Jugye Mountain Range would be turned upside down. The Jugye Mountain Range is only important to us; what value does it hold to the great sects above us? If they could give up a mere mountain range like this to save face for a newly born Core Formation cultivator, they wouldn't be stingy about it.”
“...”
“But that is the concern of the great sects. For people like us, who would want to place another heavy weight upon our heads? I say this again, Chaesan Nogoe—you were far too naive.”
The ghost qi wrapping around Chaesan Noyao churned violently. As if he had finally pieced everything together, he glared at Shin Baekrim, his eyes filled not with confusion, but with agitation and fury.
“It was a trap? You knew I was trying to form a Yin-Fiend Ghost Core? How on earth...!”
“I didn't. Not until recently.”
Chaesan Noyao's eyes widened. If he failed to understand even after hearing this much, he would be unworthy of his title as an elder of Sangyo Forest.
“...Those wretched bastards, how dare they!”
“Do not feel too wronged. In a way, this was inevitable.”
Having said that, Shin Baekrim gestured toward the Sun-Exchanging Talisman. Instantly, mysterious runes began to draw themselves upon the talisman. Starting from a single dot, the runes slowly took shape, as if someone were writing them from scratch with a brush.
Chaesan Noyao watched the scene with burning rage, but there was nothing he could do. The ghost qi and the ghost pillar surrounding him were a sturdy shield protecting him, but at the same time, they were shackles binding him. Once he had entered the stage of One Qi Penetration, he could not lift a finger until the process of Core Formation was complete.
“The success of cultivation depends on oneself, on heaven, and on people. Surely you knew this as well.”
“Hahaha!”
Seeing the runes nearly fill the talisman, Chaesan Noyao burst into mad laughter.
“I know! Of course I know! Once it was Gwak So, and now I follow in his footsteps!”
“...”
“Come to think of it, how hilarious. You, the very bastard who stabbed Gwak So in the back, are now cornering me with his Life Talisman.”
“...”
Shin Baekrim did not reply. Instead, he shot the nearly completed talisman high into the sky.
Whoosh!
The moment the final stroke was drawn on the high-flying Sun-Exchanging Talisman, the tiny slip of paper unleashed a colossal beam of light that pierced the dark sky. The heavens, which had been choked with demon qi, ghost qi, and dead spirits, trembled violently as cracks rippled through the ghost pillar connecting to the earth.
“An object is merely an object. Having lost its master, it cannot unleash its true power, but it is still more than enough to shatter a single primary spell of yours.”
At Shin Baekrim's declaration, Chaesan Noyao did not reply, seemingly resigned to his fate.
“Since when was it?”
“From the very beginning.”
Chaesan Noyao let out a hollow chuckle. His empty gaze drifted toward the precariously shaking sky.
“Heh. From the very beginning...”
“Who would welcome another sky rising above their head? No one desires it.”
The light piercing the sky burned away the darkness, and cracks completely enveloped the ghost pillar. Within the collapsing pillar, Chaesan Noyao laughed like a madman, shedding black tears as he screamed.
“I failed because I was lacking, so I feel no resentment! But what a pity! Just one step! It was a mere single step!”
The collapse of the ghost pillar accelerated. It was because Chaesan Noyao had given up and let go. Amidst the crumbling pillar, Chaesan Noyao began to be ruthlessly torn apart by the very ghost qi he had commanded like his own limbs just moments ago.
Even as a Yin spirit, he was not a complete ghost creature. Thus, the ghost qi, freed from his control, deemed him a target to be devoured and corrupted.
Had he successfully formed his core, the situation would have been different. Upon forming a Yin-Fiend Ghost Core, he would no longer be a mere Yin spirit, but a being akin to a Ghost King.
But it was a futile assumption. The brilliant future that could have been his had now completely lost its luster.
“What a pity! What a pity!”
He could have held out a bit longer if he tried, but Chaesan Noyao did not bother to exert himself. The celestial path before him was already severed. If he had to stop, he preferred to halt on his own terms rather than collapse miserably.
And he wanted to shout that though he had regrets, he had no remorse.
“Shin Baekrim! What was Gwak So's end like?”
“I do not know. I did not witness his final moments.”
“Is that so? To think he slipped from your grasp even after being stabbed in the back... He was better than me.”
Chaesan Noyao recalled the old man who had worn a bitter smile whenever they crossed paths. A strange fellow who sighed at his dying disciples and sometimes retreated far too early.
To think that the face flashing before his eyes in his final moments would be that prematurely aged fellow. Was it because his plans had been ruined by that guy's Life Talisman?
How amusing.
Crack!
Finally, the ghost pillar shattered, and his thoughts were cut short.
With the collapse of the ghost pillar, the Ghost Region created by the Ghost Net Shrouding the Heavens vanished as well. However, its influence did not disappear instantly; the ghost qi that had been concentrated within the pillar broke free, surging outward in all directions.
To make matters worse, as Chaesan Noyao died, his dharma power—which had nearly reached Core Formation—rained down, saturated with his lingering thoughts. It was like pouring the sulfurous fires of a Fire Demon onto a battlefield that was already a living hell.
“Cheongo! Wake up!”
Jekyeong urged Cheongo, who was muttering “the Seonin” in a daze, and smacked Muk-su a few times to wake it from its own stupor.
“We have to run! Now!”
At this moment, Jekyeong's sense of danger reached its absolute peak. No, in truth, his sense of danger had been at its peak for quite some time, and what had just transpired made him feel something that transcended mere danger.
“Jekyeong. The Seonin... It's the Seonin's presence.”
“Get a grip! That Seonin is dead! Didn't you say you saw it with your own eyes?”
“Huh? Right. The Seonin is dead... But... the Seonin? No, is it something similar? The Seonin's presence? Is it similar?”
Cheongo continued to babble as if it hadn't fully woken up. Unable to bear it any longer, Jekyeong snatched it in his jaws and began to flee along with Muk-su.
“Aaargh!”
Another Foundation Establishment cultivator, or perhaps a Great Yao, had perished. An unbearable, heavy wave of lingering thoughts brushed past his mind. Even as he fled frantically, Jekyeong tried his best to savor the residual scent of dharma power. He occasionally collided with rampaging corpses along the way, but thanks to his sturdy body, he escaped unscathed.
Woo-woo—
While Cheongo seemed to have lost its wits, Muk-su's condition was also far from good. It appeared to have reached its mental limit, but its physical state was even more severe. From its roots to its trunk, not a single part of it was intact.
No matter how one looked at it, rest was desperately needed, but Jekyeong had no choice but to keep pushing. Every time they stopped to catch their breath here, their chances of survival would drop by ten percent. With that thought in mind, he couldn't stop even if he felt like he was about to collapse.
Jekyeong forced his body to move with that sheer determination, but Muk-su could not. It wasn't that Muk-su's will was weak, but rather that its body was in such a terrible state that survival instinct alone could no longer drive it forward.
Woo-woo-woo—
Letting out a cry that was half-groan, half-sigh, Muk-su came to a halt. Only then was Jekyeong able to examine Muk-su's condition more closely. Since its body was originally black, he hadn't noticed at first, but looking at it now, a significant portion of its body had turned pitch-black and dead.
Not only was it withered and shriveled, but a sap-like fluid was constantly oozing out along with a foul stench. Within that fluid, Jekyeong could sense the sickening ghost qi—the scent of death.
“Muk-su. You...”
Muk-su let its roots and branches droop in resignation, but then, as if suddenly remembering something, it lifted a relatively intact branch.
Woo-woo—
Following a brief cry of incomprehensible meaning, Muk-su's entire body began to shrink. It looked as though it were squeezing out every last drop of its remaining life force. As its entire body withered away, the raised branch, conversely, grew vibrant and green as if newly sprouted, soon bearing a single small fruit.