Chapter 135: Thousand Faces

The ancient passage was dark and damp, the air filled with a heavy, earthy stench and some stale odor. The uneven floor often required using both hands and feet to get through low sections. The little daoist boy was clearly familiar with this place; he led the way ahead, his petite figure nimbly weaving through the near‑total darkness, occasionally reminding Shi Ran in a low voice to watch her step.

Shi Ran followed closely behind; her heart still raced, but the initial panic had been replaced by a cold focus. The red string on her wrist was no longer constantly hot, but like a dormant beast, it had temporarily retracted its claws—yet the invisible pressure lingered, reminding her of the danger hidden within her. She gripped the Calming Heart Talisman tightly; its cool touch brought a modicum of calm.

The passage was not straight but winding, with side passages appearing from time to time. The little daoist boy never hesitated in choosing one, clearly having memorized the route. In the silence, only their suppressed breaths and faint footsteps echoed in the narrow space, accentuating the utter stillness around them, as if cut off from the world.

After an unknown amount of time, a faint light finally appeared ahead. It was not the natural light of an exit, but a ghostly blue, will‑o‑the‑wisp‑like cold glow.

"We're almost at the first marker," the little daoist boy whispered, his voice tense, "That place used to be a small transfer array, abandoned for ages, but residual energy sometimes manifests visions. Sis, don't be scared—follow me quickly through, and don't touch anything that glows."

Shi Ran's heart tightened, and she nodded.

The closer they got to the light, the colder the air grew, even their exhaled breath turning to white mist. The passage widened here into a modest cavern. In the cavern's center, the floor bore faint, ancient runes; the eerie blue light seeped from the cracks in those runes like cold blood flowing, slowly undulating, casting the whole cavern in an otherworldly glow.

The blue light was not bright; instead it made the shadows heavier and more twisted. A faint, murmuring sound drifted in the air, drilling straight into the mind and unsettling one's nerves. The red string on Shi Ran's wrist seemed stimulated by the environment, beginning to warm faintly, and a sense of irritation welled up.

The little daoist boy quickened his pace, almost tiptoeing, eager to get through this area as fast as possible.

However, just as they reached the cavern's center, only a few steps from the opposite passage, a sudden change occurred!

The streams of blue light on the ground flickered violently, and immediately seven or eight semi‑transparent, twisted silhouettes, exuding thick resentment, shrieked out from the remnants of the array! They had no distinct features, only vague human outlines and pairs of malicious, greedy points of light, lunging straight at Shi Ran, the most vibrant with life!

They were resentful spirits lingering here, nourished and grown strong by the abnormal energy!

"Careful!" the little daoist boy cried out, instinctively reaching for a talisman.

But Shi Ran reacted even faster!

Or rather, it was her red string that reacted faster.

Almost the instant the resentful spirits lunged, the red string turned scalding hot; a violent, blood‑thirsty urge surged like a bursting flood, shattering the fragile rationality Shi Ran had struggled to maintain. Her eyes were instantly veiled in horrifying blood‑red, and her whole body exuded a bone‑chilling killing aura.

She didn't even think—her right hand lashed out!

Sss—!

Several strands finer than hair yet vividly crimson shot from her wrist, piercing precisely into the bodies of the lunging resentful spirits.

There was no sound.

The shrieking resentful spirits hung frozen in mid‑air, their phantom forms twisting and trembling as if in excruciating pain. Then, visible to the naked eye, their bodies grew thin and transparent, finally uttering a soft "pfft" as they dissipated completely into wisps of green smoke, greedily sucked up by the red threads.

The red string's light flared briefly, conveying a feeling of satisfaction and pleasure, then it lazily retracted to Shi Ran's wrist, its temperature gradually falling.

The whole process took place in the blink of an eye.

The blood‑red faded from Shi Ran's eyes, her reason returning. She stared at the empty space ahead, then glanced down at the wrist‑bound red string that seemed harmless, and a deep‑bone chill swept through her body, colder than the spirits' earlier gloom.

She… what had she just done? That red string… could actually devour spirits directly?!

The little daoist boy's mouth fell open, his dark eyes wide with shock and dread as he looked at Shi Ran; his face turned pale, he instinctively stepped back half a pace, his voice trembling: "Sis… sis… you…"

Shi Ran's heart sank to the depths. She saw the fear in the little daoist boy's eyes. Indeed, anyone would feel fear and rejection toward such power.

She bitterly closed her eyes, her voice dry: "I… I can't control it… sorry for frightening you."

A brief silence.

The little daoist boy patted his chest, let out a long breath, and tried to calm himself. Leaning in, he whispered: "No, no problem! Sis, don't misunderstand—I'm not scared of you, I'm scared of those resentful spirits! Luckily you have this… this powerful thing protecting you; otherwise we'd be in trouble! Martial Uncle Lingyue was right—you really are special, sis!"

His tone still held the after‑shock of fright, yet oddly lacked much disgust or rejection, instead carrying a sort of… relieved gladness?

Shi Ran froze for a moment, opened her eyes, and looked at the little daoist boy. The fear in his large eyes was quickly replaced by a pure, task‑focused concentration—as long as Shi Ran was unharmed, the method didn't matter.

"We need to hurry," the little daoist boy said, eyes wary as he glanced around; the blue light had dimmed considerably after the spirits vanished, "The commotion might attract attention."

He said no more, took Shi Ran's hand, and moved forward quickly again.

Yet Shi Ran could not calm her heart. The little daoist boy's reaction was too abnormal. Would an ordinary cultivator merely feel relief upon seeing a bizarre spirit‑devouring monster? Martial Uncle Lingyue… just what had he told him? Was this boy truly just sent by Martial Uncle Lingyue to help?

Once the seed of doubt was planted, it began to grow wildly.

For the rest of the journey, Shi Ran fell silent, paying closer attention to the little daoist boy's actions and the surroundings. The passage remained complex, but his guidance never faltered. Occasionally they hit a collapsed blockage, yet he could find an inconspicuous crack or side route to bypass it—his familiarity far exceeded what an ordinary daoist boy should have.

After another roughly half an hour, a faint wind and fresh, moist air came from ahead.

"We're almost out!" the little daoist boy said happily, "Outside is the Mist Forest!"

He quickened his steps, pulling Shi Ran out through a mouth hidden by thick vines and scattered rocks.

A breath of richly decaying vegetation and damp earth hit them. Before them lay an utterly alien scene: towering ancient trees blocked the sky, their crowns shrouded in gray‑white mist, light extremely dim, barely enough to make out objects. Thick vines hung like monstrous pythons from the branches, the ground carpeted with deep layers of fallen leaves that felt soft underfoot, giving off a muffled sound. All around was terrifyingly silent, save for the occasional rustle of unseen creatures and dripping water from deep within the mist.

This was the Mist Forest—visibility was extremely low, and spiritual sense was heavily suppressed, as if the thick fog were swallowing it.

"Sis, follow me; the exit is in a more concealed spot over here." The little daoist boy pointed left, "According to the route map Martial Uncle gave us, we should walk along a dry riverbed to the southeast; we should reach the outskirts of the Mist Forest in about a day, where someone will meet us."

Shi Ran did not immediately follow. She stood at the cave mouth, her gaze sweeping over the eerie forest before her, then turned to the little daoist boy.

"Just who are you?" Shi Ran's voice rang clear and cold in the silent forest, "A seven‑ or eight‑year‑old daoist boy couldn't possibly know the underground passages of the Demon Suppression Pass and the outside Mist Forest so well. Even if Martial Uncle Lingyue wanted to find someone to meet us, he wouldn't send a child on such a dangerous errand. What is your purpose?"

The smile on the little daoist boy's face froze. He turned to face Shi Ran; his oversized eyes flickered with an emotion mismatched to his age—surprise, a hint of admiration—then quickly reverted to his innocent, eager expression.

"What are you talking about, sis? Of course I'm the one Martial Uncle Lingyue sent to help you! I grew up inside this pass, so I'm just familiar with these routes. Let's hurry—this place isn't safe either; the Patrol Bureau might find us here!" He lunged to grab Shi Ran's hand.

Shi Ran jerked back a step, evading his hand, her eyes sharp as a blade: "That jade token! The token of Lord Qinghe—when you gave it to me and I said I didn't know it, you showed no surprise, nor did you explain whose token it was. You merely rushed to prove your identity so I'd follow you. A genuine messenger would at least explain the token's origin to win trust."

The little daoist boy's eager expression gradually faded. He stared at Shi Ran silently, then tilted his head, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile utterly at odds with his youthful face—tinged with amusement and eeriness.

"Oh dear, what a miscalculation. I didn't expect you, sis, to be so sharp, or that you'd overlook these details in your panic." His voice still carried a childish timbre, but his tone had completely shifted, filled with adult calculation and languor, "Looks like the disciple of Lord Wanshan isn't entirely a fool after all."

Alarm bells rang in Shi Ran's mind; her spiritual power stirred involuntarily, and the red string on her wrist began to heat up again as a warning.

"Who sent you?!" she demanded sharply, secretly preparing to fight to the death. Was it a trap from the Patrol Bureau, or some other faction coveting her secret?

"Don't tense, don't tense." The little daoist boy—or rather, the "thing" masquerading as a daoist boy—waved his hand with a grin, his body emitting a faint "crack‑crack" as it stretched and grew visible to the eye, his features blurring and shifting in the mist, "I bear you no ill will. On the contrary, I'm here to rescue you—at least for now."

In just a few breaths, the figure before Shi Ran was no longer the seven‑ or eight‑year‑old daoist boy, but a tall, slender youth in dark‑purple tight‑fitting robes, his face pale yet handsome, his eyes tinged with a hint of wickedness. He rolled his neck, letting out a comfortable sigh.

"Much more comfortable this way. Pretending to be a kid is exhausting." He smiled at the wary Shi Ran, "Let me reintroduce myself—I am Qianmian, entrusted by someone to bring you out of this troubled place."

"Who entrusted you?" Shi Ran could not let her guard down. The person before her emanated a strange, ever‑shifting aura—certainly no benevolent being. Martial Uncle Lingyue would never entrust such a one.

"I can't tell you that," Qianmian shrugged, "My employer's information is confidential—it's the rule. All you need to know is that following me will let you leave the Demon Suppression Pass's sphere of safety and possibly heal your master's wounds. If you don't come with me…" He drew out his words, gazing meaningfully toward the direction Shi Ran had come from, "Those mad dogs of the Patrol Bureau, and this man‑eating Mist Forest that never gives up a bone—tsk tsk… sis, your delicate flesh won't last long out here. And furthermore…"

His gaze fell on the red string at Shi Ran's wrist, a flash of greedy and wary light crossing his eyes: "The 'trouble' you carry can probably only be temporarily restrained by my employer. Those few Calming Heart Talismans Martial Uncle gave you won't withstand many backlashes. Eating those resentful spirits just now felt good, didn't it? But don't you feel it's gotten hungrier?"

Shi Ran's heart turned cold. The opponent knew her situation inside out—even the subtle changes after the red string devoured the resentful spirits were clear to him! Just who was his employer behind him?

Is it related to the red string within her? Or to that "Abyss"?

Before him were two choices: to believe this Thousand Faces of unknown origin and strange evil aura, whose path ahead was unknown and fortune hard to gauge; or to reject him, face alone the Inspection Office's pursuit and the peril of the Mist Forest, plus the possible backlash of the Red Thread inside him that could erupt at any time.

Whatever choice he made, it was like walking a tightrope over an abyss ten thousand feet deep.

"How can I trust you?" Shiran's voice was dry and hoarse.

"You don't need to trust me." Thousand Faces smiled like a fox. "You only need to weigh the pros and cons. Follow me, and there's a slim chance of survival, and I can still save your master. If you don't follow me, it's certain death. Simple, isn't it?" He extended a hand toward Shiran, palm up, making an inviting gesture. "Time is short, elder sister—make your decision. Will you believe this 'bad person' of mine, or return to walk into the net, or… feed the monster in this forest?"

In the Mist Forest, the damp cold mist flowed soundlessly, as if countless pairs of icy eyes were watching from the darkness.

Shiran's fingertips dug deep into her palm. She looked at Thousand Faces' eyes, which seemed to smile but were actually icy, then turned her gaze to the dark ancient passage exit whose destination was unknown. The Red Thread at her wrist twitched faintly, conveying a strange emotion toward some aura on Thousand Faces—both repulsion and longing.

In dire straits, it seemed there truly was no better choice. She drew a deep breath; the cold air stabbed into her lungs. Then, slowly and with difficulty, she took the first step toward the hand Thousand Faces had extended.

A new crisis and an unknown 'rescue' made their official appearance in this mist‑enshrouded otherworld forest. Her escape route suddenly veered toward a far more unpredictable direction.