Chapter Seventy-seven: Bai Qirui Joins the Demonic Sect

He was just about to leave and head to the Demonic Sect as early as possible when Bai Qirui heard the girl's soft call. He froze for a moment, then abruptly turned his head. The girl's gaze, though dazed, was filled with stubbornness as she stared fixedly in his direction.

Bai Qirui raised his hand to feel the concealment talisman on his body and found it still securely attached to his clothes, proving his presence was yet to be discovered.

“I know you’re up ahead,” the girl managed, forcing out the words with difficulty. Afterward, she coughed softly, feeling the tremor in her chest.

She paused to catch her breath, then bowed solemnly to Bai Qirui, offering a generous smile and, with effort, steadying her voice. “Immortal Lord, thank you for your help.”

Hearing her address him as “Immortal Lord,” Bai Qirui found her rather interesting. He hadn’t expected that, even with the concealment talisman, she could still sense him.

But now, with time pressing and urgent matters at hand, he was in no mood for further conversation. He turned to leave.

Yet it seemed to the girl as if his every move was laid bare before her eyes. As soon as he turned, she called out again, “Immortal Lord, please wait! I wish to know your name, so I may repay your kindness one day!”

Repay him?

At those words, Bai Qirui couldn’t help but let a smile play at his lips. He was, after all, the third prince of the Celestial Fox Clan, possessing all he could desire. This girl, in her tattered clothes, could hardly offer anything he might want, should she ever attempt repayment.

So he treated her words as a jest, merely smiled, and strode away.

A light breeze stirred, and the girl’s nose twitched. She noticed the faint fragrance in the air had vanished; Bai Qirui had gone.

She stood there, dazed, for a long time. The burning fervor in her eyes slowly condensed into a dense, dark mist as she carefully searched for that faint lingering scent.

Bai Qirui soon left the town behind. On the road, he encountered two ghosts, one large, one small, both with greedy, hideous faces, laughing and chatting as they went:

“At this Banquet of Ten Thousand Ghosts tonight, it’s been ages since I’ve seen those old friends!”

“Well, look at you, waxing nostalgic! What have you in mind this time? Break their limbs? Smash their bones?”

“Heh… What do you take me for? Oh wait, what kind of ghost do you take me for? I just want a game of chess with them, nothing more.”

“Terrible player, you are!”

The two immediately fell to bickering, their every exchange a source of laughter.

But Bai Qirui was in no mood for their banter, because—

“Oh? Someone’s broken into the Demonic Sect?” The large ghost’s eyes bulged, a lump of crimson flesh nearly falling from his socket, which he hastily pushed back in.

The small ghost let out a cackling laugh. “Who’d have thought it? Are Immortal Sect folk so bold these days, daring to barge straight into the Demonic Sect!”

“I bet they’ll be dead in ten minutes!”

“I give it five!”

Bai Qirui’s expression darkened, and he cursed inwardly: Sheng Yun, you really are a fool!

With that thought, he quickened his pace.

Yet he had no idea where the Demonic Sect was located. But recalling that it had once been the ancient Ghost Sect, he reasoned it must be wherever the Banquet of Ten Thousand Ghosts was held—the Blood River.

He sped off, mingling with the throng of monsters and ghosts. The assembled horde was so vast that, before long, his presence was completely masked among them. The ghostly aura he picked up helped conceal his own demonic energy, making it even easier to move undetected.

Before long, Bai Qirui glimpsed, far ahead, a massive, surging line of blood stretching for miles.

He frowned and quickened his steps, soon reaching the torrent of the Blood River.

Within the river, skulls gaped their jaws, and countless ghosts of various forms circled above. With each step, several blood-stained skeletons were crushed beneath, prompting their skeletal hands to rise in protest.

A glint of disbelief flashed in Bai Qirui’s eyes before he turned away, carefully searching for Bai Shengyun’s aura.

Previously, the distance had been too great; inside the Demonic Sect, a minor barrier further shielded the area, and Bai Shengyun also had a concealment talisman. So for a time, Bai Qirui could not locate him.

Yet, being brothers born of the same mother and father, their blood connection made it easier to sense each other than others could—though only at close range.

Now, at the edge of the Blood River, he could faintly sense Bai Shengyun’s presence, confirming that the Demonic Sect was near.

He closed his eyes, a streak of golden light flaring between his brows, and began to walk slowly around the Blood River. With every step, his sense of Bai Shengyun grew stronger.

After some time, he stopped at the river’s southwestern bank. When he opened his eyes, the golden light faded away.

Bai Qirui surveyed his surroundings, noting the absence of ghosts or people—the area was perfectly quiet. Here, too, the river’s current seemed somehow slowed, as if impeded by some force.

Noticing this, he deduced the entrance to the Demonic Sect must be nearby.

He released his spiritual sense to search further, finding the space around him laced with numerous cracks, as if battered by tremendous spiritual power.

One crack in particular was deeper and wider than the rest, revealing a glimpse of the space beyond the formation. Faint chill and a trace of gold light lingered around the fissure.

Bai Qirui instantly recognized this as Bai Shengyun’s handiwork.

Clearly, a fierce battle had raged within the Demonic Sect’s grand array, and the defenders, pressed for time, had failed to repair the damage, barely managing to patch the barrier together.

He raised his hand, demonic energy coursing through his fingers, and struck the crack without hesitation.

With a thunderous boom, the formation shattered, revealing the space beyond.

Here, corpses littered the ground, and chaotic minglings of spiritual and ghostly forces swirled everywhere.

Bai Qirui swept his gaze across the scene, spotting the black corridor at the center and preparing to enter—when out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Ning Qingqing, her chest still faintly rising and falling.

He had met Ning Qingqing before, but hadn’t expected her, with such weak cultivation, to follow the others into the Demonic Sect—a reckless disregard for her own life.

To avoid being discovered, Bai Qirui quickly set up a small concealment array between them, then tossed her a bottle of pills from his sleeve, sending a message: “Take care and heal up.”

He was about to leave when Ning Qingqing suddenly opened her eyes, grasped his sleeve with trembling hands, and said weakly, “Third Young Lord, I want to go with you.”

Bai Qirui looked back, lifting an eyebrow.

Bringing Ning Qingqing along was courting death.

He swallowed, then decisively pulled his sleeve free, ready to knock her out with a palm strike, hoping she wouldn’t risk her life again once she’d healed.

Ning Qingqing never imagined Bai Qirui would treat her so. Anger surged, and she nearly coughed up blood. But before she could react, his palm struck; she felt a sharp pain at her neck, and consciousness faded away.