Chapter Thirty-Four: Injustice on All Sides

As Chu Tiange’s refusal echoed, the knocking at the door weakened noticeably.

Aguduo possessed a certain beauty, but Chu Tiange was not a man easily swayed.

“Then… may I come in? I just want someone to talk to,” pleaded the voice outside, soon accompanied by sobs and desperate supplications.

Chu Tiange hesitated, feeling it would be unkind to turn her away. After all, he was merely a guest here; if it was only for a conversation, he could hardly refuse. More importantly, there were things he needed to ask her.

Earlier, Aguduo had seemed lost in her own thoughts, and Chu Tiange had not found the opportunity to inquire about the matter of “return.” Now that she had come to him, he could not let the chance slip by.

He understood well that in such tense circumstances, the people of the tribe regarded him, an outsider, with suspicion. It was only out of respect for Aguduo that they had not objected to his presence.

“All right, wait while I open the door.”

Chu Tiange slipped down from the stone bed and strode to the entrance, flinging it open.

A thick mist billowed in, flooding the room and blurring everything in its path. Sharp winds rushed inside, like blades slicing through the air, sending shivers up his spine.

A woman stood in the swirling fog.

She wore nothing, her skin glimpsed through the haze, curves enticingly shrouded, essential parts concealed by the mist. Her waist was slender, her legs straight and graceful—she radiated temptation.

“Aguduo, respect yourself. I will help you with the ghost marriage,” Chu Tiange said, sweeping his hand; a robe appeared in his grip, which he tossed to the naked woman.

The robe caught the mist, sweeping it aside.

His vision cleared.

Chu Tiange stared intently, his pupils contracting in shock.

The woman had no head.

Despite his power to see through illusions, even this time he could not discern any unnatural aura—no sign of evil.

The headless female ghost reached out with delicate arms, as if to cradle Chu Tiange’s head.

He stepped back instantly, summoning the Demon-Slaying Sword in a flash; blade in hand, he struck fiercely at the ghost, thunderbolts crackling through the sword’s aura, shattering the surrounding fog.

The headless ghost moved to evade, her movements ethereal, but it was futile.

Though Chu Tiange was only a cultivator of the Spirit Gathering realm, he had lived two lifetimes and possessed formidable combat skills and experience. Facing such horror, he knew he must act swiftly—no hesitation, no mercy.

Five figures appeared around the ghost, sealing every escape. Sword energy cut sharply, thunderous power purified all filth, the air itself shredded beneath the blade, emitting a piercing sound.

The ghost let out a wailing scream; her body was torn by sword energy and vanished, dissolving into black smoke.

Peace returned.

Chu Tiange was about to step back inside when he halted abruptly, a twitch at his brow.

A dull knocking echoed again.

But the door was already wide open; it had not been closed.

Chu Tiange looked up, and in a haze, the distance to the door seemed to stretch.

He was back on the stone bed, the door tightly shut, persistent knocking coming from outside.

He remained silent, his cold face growing ever more frigid.

All was strange—he seemed to have returned to the beginning in the blink of an eye.

He walked slowly toward the door, a talisman appearing in his hand, preparing to seal away this unnatural presence with swift force.

The knocking grew clearer, heavier than before.

He approached quietly, then yanked the door open.

A figure appeared.

A man clad in animal skins, his face dark, a spear slung at his waist, a massive bow across his shoulders, and a blood-stained sword in his hand.

What drew the eye most was the scar at his brow.

This was Agen.

Agen, who had died, had returned.

Agen shook his head at Chu Tiange, his lips moving as if to speak, but no words came.

He hung a bell on the door, shook his head again, then turned and walked into darkness, vanishing in the night.

Chu Tiange looked up, gazing into the night.

Deep night always carried a touch of fear and mystery. The valley was empty, save for occasional winds whose sounds resembled the low weeping of ghosts.

The bell chimed softly, and Chu Tiange stood there for a long time, a memory stirring faintly in his mind.

Agen had once told Aguduo, “When I return from hunting, I’ll bring you a gift.”

He never returned.

But his soul came back, bearing the gift for Aguduo.

This delicate bell was that gift.

In a primitive tribe, such craftsmanship was rare—the bell was a precious item, likely left behind by a passing female cultivator.

Agen wanted to give something beautiful to Aguduo. Though she was the tribe’s bravest warrior, in her heart she was still a girl who loved beauty.

“Return… return…” Chu Tiange murmured, something flashing in his mind, but slipping away before he could grasp it.

He looked again into the night—the dim sky devoid of stars, his heart beating faster.

“This is not the real world…”

Was it another nightmare? Or hallucinations brought on by unstable cultivation?

A dull knocking sounded again.

Everything returned to the original moment.

But now there was something different—Chu Tiange held a bell and a deep purple, withered flower.

“Chu Tiange, are you asleep?” came Aguduo’s voice once more from outside.

“Or is it some kind of curse?” Chu Tiange wondered, his brows furrowing.

This horror could not be fully vanquished—or perhaps the true source had not yet been found.

He composed himself and once again rose from the bed, moving to the door.

“Chu Tiange, it’s me, Aguduo.”

With a click, Chu Tiange produced a talisman and opened the door.

A woman stood before him.

A woman whose body was whole and unblemished.

Aguduo leaned against a wooden post, holding a bowl of meat broth, looking at him. “Drink some. You haven’t eaten tonight.”

Chu Tiange glanced up at the night—stars glittered, the moon hung high.

He was certain now that he had emerged from the nightmare.

“Please, come in.”

He did not refuse her, took the bowl, sat down, tasted the broth—meat a bit tough, soup somewhat fishy.

“Is this snake meat?” he asked.

“Yes, we brought back snake meat,” Aguduo replied.

Chu Tiange asked no further, immersing himself in the meal.

In such damp surroundings, a bowl of hot broth was a comfort, easing the tension that had gripped him.

“My father once told me that every thirty years, strangers in odd clothing appear in our world. They call themselves cultivators—powerful ones, able to fly on swords, ride the clouds, stir the winds and rain, akin to gods.”

Aguduo looked at him, hope shining in her eyes. “Are you a cultivator too? Are you a god?”

Chu Tiange lifted his gaze, studying her eyes intently.

Even knowing her death drew near, her eyes remained clear and pure.

He set the bowl aside and laughed gently.

“I am not a god, but I seek to stand beside the gods, to listen to injustice wherever it may be.”