Chapter 399: In the Shadows

"These are the cases of cultivators falling into demonic madness and people going missing in Mocheng over the past few months."

Mo Ran pointed to several scrolls on the table depicting faint golden cloud patterns as he spoke to Xuan Che, then pulled another jade slip from a nearby bookshelf and placed it before Xuan Che as well.

"This one is the most recent incident—it happened just a few days ago."

Xuan Che nodded slightly, took the jade slip directly, and casually unrolled it.

A misty, shimmering light rose from the jade slip, projecting a series of image records and written logs compiled by the investigators before his eyes; the content was extremely detailed.

As Xuan Che examined the data, his brows furrowed slightly; a moment later, he raised his gaze and looked through the holographic projection in mid-air at the woman standing opposite him: "Refining Tower management personnel? Suddenly changed temperament upon returning home after a shift, their cultivation soared, and they caused widespread destruction?"

"Yes, and when the City Patrol Bureau pursued them, they broke through three lines of defense in succession—acting as if they had no regard for their own lives," Mo Ran nodded slowly, his expression carrying a hint of gravity, "The last time witnesses saw the person involved, they jumped into a geothermal fissure at the base of Refining Tower No. 10; after that, they vanished... We also organized personnel to investigate that fissure, but found no corpse beneath it."

Xuan Che said nothing, continuing to carefully examine the remaining parts of the data, while Mo Ran spoke again from across from him: "Based on the information gathered so far, the people involved in these incidents come from all walks of life, with different identities, backgrounds, and sect lineages; there is no commonality in their identities. Moreover, among them are not only humans, but also Demon Immortals, Spirit Immortals, and even registered spirits and ghosts, indicating that the 'culprit' causing their 'demonic madness' does not discriminate and likely acts at random."

Speaking thus, Mo Ran paused, then added: "Of course, with so many cases gathered together, we have not found nothing; these cases do share some commonalities. The greatest common point is that the cultivation of all those involved is at the 'Spirit Embodiment' realm or above, possessing the ability to project their divine sense and let their souls wander beyond the body..."

Xuan Che immediately frowned, raising his head to look at Mo Ran: "In other words, they were likely affected and fell into demonic madness during the process of projecting their divine sense and observing the world with their hearts?"

"That is the most likely hypothesis at present," Mo Ran nodded, "but we cannot yet confirm how this 'demonic madness' actually occurs—after all, the first step for cultivators to learn the method of projecting their divine sense is to master various techniques for protecting their own minds; although it is inevitable that some who are not skilled enough or are careless will fall under enchantment during this process, so many people falling into 'demonic madness' within such a short time is truly suspicious."

"Furthermore, although we suspect most victims were infected during the process of projecting their divine sense, at least twenty percent of the cases so far involve people who suddenly lost control without engaging in cultivation or meditation at all; some even just fell asleep—this type of case, though extremely rare, is the most unsettling."

"No projection of divine sense, yet still contaminated?" Xuan Che's brows knitted tightly; after a moment of deep thought, he slowly spoke, "Indeed, cultivators know how to protect their own minds, especially in situations where the divine sense never leaves the body; theoretically, they should not be infected at all... but if they are facing a mad ancient powerhouse, that is another matter."

Mo Ran's expression finally changed slightly: "A mad ancient powerhouse?"

"Do not speak of this matter to outsiders," Xuan Che thought for a moment and warned before telling the truth, "First, to avoid causing panic; second, the person behind the scenes may possess extremely high cultivation, having reached the level where thoughts can communicate with the gods; if the news spreads, ordinary people with lower cultivation might frequently think of that person's name in fear, which could instead attract their gaze."

"It has come to this..." Mo Ran's expression shook upon hearing this, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief, but he quickly recovered, "I understand, Immortal Envoy, please speak."

Xuan Che steadied himself and slowly spoke: "This series of events is very likely related to an ancient powerhouse named 'Yun Qingzi', and this old senior... is very likely already mad."

A deep cave connected to a tunnel, and the artificially excavated tunnel connected to a crisscrossing system of rifts; in the depths of the wasteland far from Mocheng, a hidden underground hideout resembled a vast maze woven from artificial traces and primitive geological structures, burying all secrets deep beneath thick layers of rock and soil.

On this mining planet located in a remote border region that had long since declined, there were countless corners forgotten by people.

A thousand years ago, pioneers built countless outposts, collection stations, and environmental modification facilities in this harsh, primitive alien environment; as time passed, many of these pioneering bases became history—some having completed their design missions, others encountering unavoidable environmental changes—regardless of the reason, these facilities abandoned over the long millennium ultimately became a series of forgotten "graves," submerged in the eternal, silent rainy season, slowly rotting in the dampness and cold.

And now, deep within one of these forgotten "graves"... something darker and more dangerous than mold had evidently begun to grow.

In the core area of the underground palace, once part of the outpost, many later-added facilities and equipment had replaced the ancient arrays, mechanisms, and spiritual artifacts that had long ceased to function; more than a dozen "foreigners" with obviously non-local appearances were busy bustling among many precision devices, while in the center of the hall stood a pitch-black chair—

Countless pipes and cables connected around that chair; the tangled network of tubes spread out like roots, connecting to equipment throughout the underground palace, while some disappeared into the depths of the roof and floor, as if leading to even more distant places.

And sitting quietly upon that chair was a middle-aged man in white robes with a dignified countenance.

The man kept his eyes tightly shut, his brows furrowed; numerous cables extended from beneath his white robes, connecting to many interfaces on the chair, while biological tissues resembling nerves "grew" directly from the back of his head, merging with an "interface" at the top of the chair back, twitching occasionally.

After an unknown amount of time, when a high-level technical cultivator of the Hidden Cultivation Society, busy nearby, looked up at the black chair for the third time with unease, the middle-aged man sitting in the chair finally slowly opened his eyes.

The neural tissue at the back of his head disconnected from the chair and then slowly retracted into his body; not far behind the chair, several cultivation containers resembling stasis pods emitted a low humming sound, and the surface of one of them gradually lit up.

"Grand Sage," the high-level technical cultivator wearing the Hidden Cultivation Society's cloak immediately stepped forward two paces, bowing his head slightly, "You have recovered?"

"Mm," the middle-aged man called the Grand Sage nodded; although his demeanor was dignified, a hint of exhaustion was unmistakably visible in his eyes, "I still need some time to return to peak condition, and... to organize my memories."

Speaking thus, he raised his head and looked at the Hidden Cultivation Society disciples busy in the hall.

"How is your progress? Have you analyzed anything useful from the returned signals?"

"Only some fragmented memories," the high-level technical cultivator said with a somewhat helpless tone, operating the device in his hand as he spoke, "Your previous clone died too suddenly, too completely, not even having time to fully copy and transmit the memories back... From the limited signal analysis, the black box chip in the brain was vaporized in an instant; the protective shell around the chip barely functioned."

"Additionally, there was powerful spatial interference at the clone's death scene... different from any interference technology we have ever seen, which also severely affected the memory transmission of the clone; your current memory obstacles and thought interruptions are caused by this."

"These are the few images that can barely be considered meaningful, analyzed from the limited 'deathbed signals'..."

As the technical cultivator spoke, he turned slightly and activated the holographic projection device in front of the Grand Sage's chair.

Chaotic and blurred light and shadow flickered in the air; one could vaguely see a sky full of rain, lightning, and intense battle scenes, yet the images were upside down and disordered, not only extremely blurry but also filled with a large amount of "delusions" and "illusions" that looked irrational, like an out-of-control nightmare.

There were missiles streaking through the sky, yet inexplicably imagined as tails spewing fire; there were people flying back and forth riding on tails, holding strange and ferocious clubs in their hands; there were spiderwebs spanning the sky forming a giant net, with a terrifying, massive figure crouching in the center of the net...

Grotesque, chaotic, devoid of any reason, like images sketched by a dream on the verge of dissolution at the edge of awakening—obviously, this was caused by the clone's brain falling into chaos at the moment of sudden death, leading to a loss of control over memory and imagination.

And at the end of all these mad images was the final image transmitted by the black box chip.

It was blurrier than all the previous images, yet covered in extremely vivid and complex colors due to the extreme terror of the recorder at that time; within the colors, a figure raising a hand could be seen; that seemed to be a woman, wearing black and magnificent robes, her eyes as red as blood, raising her hand toward this side, while a strong light was brewing at her fingertips and exploding outward.

"This is the deathbed image; judging by the timestamp, this should be the enemy that caused your clone's death," the technical cultivator said from the side, "but for some reason, the memory data extracted from this scene indicates that this enemy is very... small, in terms of size, probably only a few tens of centimeters, like a doll."

The middle-aged man sitting in the black chair had a face as still as water; after remaining silent for several seconds, he slowly spoke: "Are you saying I was killed by a doll once?"

"This may also be a false impression caused by death and transmission interference," the technical cultivator hurriedly lowered his head, "You saw it yourself; many of the images just now were chaotic and absurd; the clone's chaotic brain at the moment of death distorted many memories."

The Grand Sage gave no opinion, simply continuing to frown darkly, staring fixedly at the figure covered in a layer of wild colors on the holographic projection, remaining silent for a long time.

(End of this chapter)