The Weak Me of Yesterday Is Dead

Heh heh.

The weak little shut-in jiao dragon was dead. Now had come the era of Lord Gyoran, the invisible jiao dragon who would wring wails from all four corners of the world!

It doesn't affect me as much as I expected.

The battle had been utterly one-sided. Well, that much couldn't be helped. The prohibition of the Eunyu Desert was absolute. They had been mice sealed inside a poison jar, and I was the master of this forbidden land, free to strike through the very poison that held them captive. In a way, it was only natural the fight unfolded the way it did.

What startled me wasn't the one-sidedness — it was the killing. I had, after all, taken human lives. My first battle, my first kill. Firsts, welcome or not, tend to leave aftereffects for quite a while; mental shock and psychological unease come with the territory.

So why do I feel perfectly fine?

I had killed people, and I felt nothing. If anything, my calmness was the more alarming part.

Is it because I'm a yao-beast?

Honestly, I had simply beaten down a pack of robbers who broke into my own home — not a shred of guilt there. There was no reason to spare them, either. Had I let them live, they would only have returned later with greater numbers, thirsty for revenge.

Learning Law-Body Dual Cultivation truly was the right call. I was not wrong!

The Law-Body Dual Cultivation I had suffered like a dog to master. The Purple Haze Thunderblade had played a magnificent starring role — the Purple Haze Stored Blade, an iai-draw art that charged purple lightning within the scabbard itself before unleashing a blade of one-strike lethality. It was a technique that demanded preparation time, but its power was nothing short of peerless. Even a Golden Core cultivator died on the spot without a flicker of reaction, so any further description would only waste my breath.

I suspected my body-technique aptitudes and demon-root aptitudes had lent a hand there as well.

With high Blade Arts and a high Thunder Root, unleashing the Purple Haze Thunderblade let me wield far greater power than an ordinary being could. On top of that, the art seemed to be of a rather lofty grade — it carried the mystery of raising my aptitudes simply by practicing it. Of the Yellow, Mystic, Earth, and Heaven grades, I suspected the Purple Haze Thunderblade ranked as an Earth-grade art or perhaps even a Heaven-grade one.

So this really is a game world I've landed in. Aptitudes in Blade Arts and Thunder Root rising just from practicing? That would be impossible in any ordinary xianxia world.

Either way, it had let me sweep the intruders aside with ease — an absolute jackpot.

And the fact that this is a secret realm, the Golden Ring ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Immortal Realm, works in my favor. This is not a place any random person can barge into.

Were this an ordinary hidden treasury on the continent, beings from every sect under the sun might come crawling out of the woodwork — but a secret realm was a different story entirely. Since time immemorial, secret realms were places where great cultivators of profound realms or beings of the primordial age carved out hidden domains, stashing their possessions or laying down arrangements for their descendants. The laws within them — the very fact that the rules carried enforced compulsion — meant just anyone could not set foot here.

In other words: a level cap.

And that level restriction barred any being of the Third Realm or above from entry. Within this secret realm where that rule operated as law, I was — Golden Ring Immortal Realm only — the strongest there was.

A weakling on the outside, an absolute being inside the realm?

This, you see, was something I simply could not resist.

So long as I never left, I was the one who could rampage untouchable through this place.

Flick.

I shook the blood from my blade — and where it flew, the bird girl happened to be standing, the Golden Core elder's blood splattering across her face.

Oh, right. Her. Seogeum, was it?

Hers was the face of someone on death's very doorstep. True to her avian blood, the large, wide ears sprouting from the top of her head were the standout feature.

That's actually kind of adorable...

A beast-folk, in a xianxia world of all places. I wanted to touch those ears!!

But no such thing came to pass. I leveled the bloodstained blade at Seogeum.

Whether the Ghost Dao Sect's Golden Core elder or this yao-kin, both were robbers who had come for my home. This yao-kin in particular bore an Innate Bloodline — what humans called Heavenly Blood. Let her live, and who knew when she might pick apart the Eunyu Desert's prohibition and come prowling back to rob my house like some thieving rat. In a world like this, sowing future trouble was something only a fool did. Killing her was the clean way.

Cute as she is.

It couldn't be helped. However adorable she looked, she was not worth more than my life.

"...Thank... you."

Seogeum suddenly offered her thanks. My brow furrowed.

"Why are you thanking me?"

"I, who was meant to die a meaningless death, was granted the sight of theirs... With that, I... have no regrets left. But I, too, am every bit as guilty of wrongdoing. So... so in my next life, I will at last repay this debt of sin..."

Thump.

Watching Seogeum crumple to the ground, I sank into thought.

Left alone, she'll die anyway.

There was no need to dirty my hands over it. A rat that had crawled into my house — nothing more, nothing less.

"And yet..."

I could not help the twinge of pity. Seogeum had wished for her own death; she had sacrificed herself to save her younger sibling. Sacrifice, in this barren world of cultivators. Seeing someone actually carry out what everyone else dismissed as a hollow joke — it didn't feel half bad.

The sibling, though, bolted without a trace, and I've no idea where they went.

As far as I was concerned, the thief had simply escaped. Catching and killing that one too would have left no loose ends, but it had already fled too far — I could scarcely catch its scent or its sound anymore.

Someday... it might come back to bite me.

As I deliberated a moment longer, the wingless wing-bugs came climbing up my legs. A wing-bug's wings were much like talismans — once spent in service, they were lost. They would regrow soon enough, but until then the bugs ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were terribly vulnerable.

The wing-bugs, and Seogeum. Having quietly regarded the two for a while, I finally hoisted Seogeum onto my back.

"It never hurts to know how the outside world is faring. And a guide, no less... simply perfect."

For a walking repository of stories and information, there was no harm in keeping her alive a while longer. A Second Realm demon immortal could never be a match for me anyway.

I'll have to ask Yoseonbang for a prohibition that can bind the yao race.

After gathering up every storage pouch and mystic artifact from the fallen cultivators, I headed back to the cave abode. The pouches I'd set my sights on had come rolling in by the heap — which meant it was time to sort through the loot.

Her eyes slid open.

The golden-haired bird-folk gazed blankly at the ceiling — not the familiar ceiling she should have been seeing, but the leaves of an auspicious divine tree, and glowing spirit fruit.

What in the world are those...?

The divine tree shed a soft, unhurried light, and the spirit fruit hanging from its boughs looked, at a glance, like celestial peaches fit only for immortals to eat. A faint fragrance and crisp, refreshing energy seemed to drift down upon her again and again. Even with her body wracked with pain, the place was overwhelming enough that she nearly mistook it for paradise itself.

And the instant that realization landed—

"Hah—!"

Seogeum's senses snapped back.

"Th-this place is..."

She was inside an immense cave abode. A pond black as ink, and at its heart, a lair. Around them stood spirit trees, spirit herbs, and spirit grasses in flawless harmony.

This density of heaven-and-earth origin qi... a demon vein of this caliber is Fourth Realm or higher!

Some formation seemed to be gathering and concentrating the demon vein into a single point. Aiding it were the spirit trees and herbs arrayed toward the four directions, and the pillar-artifacts etched with dragons that rose here and there.

Every single thing here is a spirit treasure you could never lay eyes on outside. No — perhaps something greater still.

It was as if every peerless treasure under heaven had gathered in this one place. Only after drinking in the absurdly magnificent, beautiful cave abode did Seogeum realize she could not fathom why she was here at all. Then, soon enough, she understood.

"Ah."

Thump.

The door slid open, and the being whose face she could never forget stepped through. Silver hair washed violet at the tips. Violet eyes. A pair of horns. Skin white as polished jade and a beauty that seized the eye — yet the aura she carried was sharp beyond measure. The crushing pressure unique to her bloodline was no ordinary thing; beyond any doubt, a descendant of the dragon. The master of this cave abode. That every staggering thing she had witnessed belonged to a being wearing the shape of a small child left Seogeum unable even to guess at her station.

"Hee hee."

The girl came in sweating, flinched in surprise at the sight of her awake, then approached.

"Y-you're awake. Ahem!"

Startled by the unexpectedly gentle tone, Seogeum dropped flat into a prostrate bow. Telling herself to stay calm, she trembled all the same, head to toe.

"I greet the master of this forbidden land."

"You burned through that much essence blood, so devote yourself to recovery. You lay there a full month — I was starting to wonder whether I'd carried home a corpse."

A month? She had slept a whole month?

Astonished, Seogeum pressed her head lower still. The truth was, she knew her own condition best. She had wrung out her essence blood by force; dying would have been only natural, and that her body had not perished was miraculous in itself. Which meant it must have been the master of this place — the being who had called herself Gyoran — who had healed her.

"I do not know how I could ever repay this grace."

What could she possibly intend, having saved her? Cold sweat beaded across her forehead.

"Nothing in particular — I spared you because there are things I wish to know. So don't try anything stupid. I've planted a prohibition within your body. I expect you won't sever the lifeline I barely managed to save with some pointless stunt."

Seogeum brought a hand to her chest. Certain enough — a prohibition had been planted there. Concealing her unease, she answered.

"Th-that is only right and proper."

In the world of cultivators, such things were commonplace. Anyone who spared your life and declined to plant a single prohibition was the strange one. To be alive at all was fortune beyond measure. She had no grounds for complaint.

"If it lies within my power to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠answer, then I will answer anything."

The master of the forbidden land — Gyoran asked without delay.

"Can you see this?"

She pointed at the empty air before her. But Seogeum could only tilt her head.