Volume One: Hidden in the Abyss Chapter Forty-Seven

Three days after the Illusory Dust, Jinli always sensed the presence of a demonic soul within the royal palace, yet no matter how often she searched, its exact location eluded her.

“Fourth sister.”

The voice belonged to the Third Princess Consort. Jinli turned and lifted her gaze, and there she was—more radiant than before. In just three days, she had become even more enchanting. If not for the familiar curve of her brows and eyes, one could hardly recognize the woman in red robes as the Third Princess Consort.

“Greetings, Third Princess Consort.”

“There’s no need for such formality, little sister. Looking at your weary face, did the Fourth Prince trouble you late into the night? Did you rest poorly?”

Jinli was puzzled for a moment before understanding, and a rosy blush colored her cheeks, making her appear more bashful than if she had worn rouge. The Third Princess Consort truly dared to say anything.

After exchanging a few words about family, the maid accompanying the Third Princess Consort excused herself, claiming it was time for the Consort to take her medicine.

The more Jinli observed, the more suspicious she became. Was the Third Princess Consort’s medicine truly so miraculous, able to restore youth?

At night, only the sound of the palace watch and the occasional nightingale pierced the silence. Jinli transformed into mist and entered the Consort’s chambers. Aside from the attendants on duty, the bed was empty.

Jinli concealed herself and checked the maids’ breath—none, as if they were corpses. She had seen this maid during the day; why was she dead now? It didn’t look like murder, more like her soul had been taken.

It seemed Ruixin was here.

At that moment, Jinli smelled a faint scent of blood. She quietly moved behind the bed curtains, examining the wall, which was covered in runic barriers. Ordinary people couldn’t enter.

She summoned her talismans, sending a blue stream of light like smoke into the barrier, and Jinli vanished along with it.

The smell of blood thickened, mingling with the stench of rotting flesh, making it hard to bear. She softly descended a spiraling stone staircase, seemingly bottomless, with dim candlelight leading downward but never reaching the end.

This palace concealed such a place?

At last, when Jinli reached the bottom, the flames had changed to eerie blue ghostlights. The heavy, rusted stone door was carved with demonic patterns, fresh blood flowing through its grooves, as if alive.

Suddenly, the stone door opened slowly. Jinli startled, uncertain if she had triggered something forbidden.

But it was merely two palace maids emerging, each carrying a large bowl filled with red liquid—blood, by the looks of it.

Jinli slipped inside, only to be confronted by the sight of a massive suspension bridge, facing an enormous idol. The statue depicted a woman with a human head and serpent body; behind her, one wing was that of a phoenix, pristine and radiant, the other corrupted, etched with demonic marks—a phoenix’s ruined wing.

The statue’s eyes were covered with plain cloth, her delicate nose barely visible, but her face, which should have been smooth, was covered in chilling demonic patterns, making her more demon than goddess.

Approaching the bridge, Jinli was horrified to find it crawling with countless giant serpents, some bearing indistinct human legs and torsos.

She retched in disgust.

From afar, she saw two people throw another down from the bridge and leave.

Jinli reached out to save the fallen one—a palace maid, neck punctured with two deep holes, drained dry, now nothing more than a desiccated corpse.

With sorrow, Jinli closed the maid’s staring eyes.

She then crossed the bridge herself. The scene before her defied description—her stomach churned, her head spun, rage and grief overwhelmed her.

Behind the demon idol, cages were built into the rock wall, filled with countless prisoners. Coiled atop the cages were innumerable serpents, hissing and writhing, making her scalp crawl.

Yet amidst the filth, one area stood out—a lavishly ornate bath and a screen adorned with hundreds of blooming flowers, incense burning nearby.

The sandalwood mingled with blood and decay, dizzying and nauseating.

Jinli raised a hand, covering her face with shark silk to block the stench.

Attendants served a woman bathing in rose-infused blood with utmost reverence.

The woman’s slender figure, seen only from behind, was undeniably beautiful.

But as she rose and dressed, turning to face Jinli, terror struck.

Was she not the Third Princess Consort, who had laughed and chatted with Jinli that afternoon?

Yet the woman before her had crimson eyes—demonic irises—and the markings on her forehead flared boldly.

She radiated seductive charm, and after donning her gauzy robe, she exuded the satisfaction of a predator after a meal.

She was the witch of Spring County, one of the born demon lords.

Where the original Third Princess Consort had gone, Jinli could not guess—she felt a chill.

Just then, the witch seemed to sense Jinli’s furious gaze, turning her head to look directly at Jinli’s hidden spot. After a long silence, a servant called her, and she withdrew her gaze, a smile curving her blood-red lips.

Jinli knew this was not the moment for confrontation; who knew how many more would fall victim to the witch’s cruelty if left unchecked?

She withdrew, heart pounding with fear.

Now, alone and unsupported, Jinli was but a newly arrived Fourth Princess Consort, with no footing in the palace; should she act against the witch, she might be blamed herself. This matter required careful consideration.

At present, Gengyuan bore the evil bone. Though the evil bone showed no signs of awakening, once the demon god called again, it would only be a matter of time before the bone consumed Gengyuan. The bone needed to be extracted and sealed, but first it must be awakened—how, she wondered.

What was the witch’s purpose here? Ruixin remained missing; whether she hid here was still unknown.

Jinli pinched the green leaf in her hand, eyes lowered in deep thought.

First, she must deal with the witch; then she could address Gengyuan’s plight.

Late at night, she sat cross-legged on her bed, breathing deeply, blue light swirling around her, the divine mark on her brow flickering.

She wondered—sometimes she stood on the verge of godhood, yet at other times even basic cultivation was difficult.

The demigod stage was perilous; a single misstep could lead to corruption and a descent into the demonic path.

The King of Illusory Dust would return from his travels the day after tomorrow; Gengyuan’s secret might be exposed then. Thus, the matter had to be resolved tonight, as soon as possible.

She formed a seal with her fingers, transforming herself into a talisman—a pale blue rune fading away.

All she could do now was inform Sangli, hoping the Celestial Clan could prepare in advance.

For demons had infiltrated Illusory Dust; if the kingdom failed to act, they would be accused of collusion, just as the Sharkfolk had been in days past.

Somewhere in Illusory Dust’s outskirts.

The waters of the Illusory River surged endlessly toward the horizon, its end out of sight.

The youth’s gaze was deep as he looked out over the river. Jiang Ji approached, “Your Majesty, shall I go investigate?”

“Mm.”

At his command, Jiang Ji dove into the churning river. About half an hour later, he emerged, wounded all over, barely breathing.

After Gengyuan tended his wounds, Jiang Ji spoke, “Your Majesty, there are mechanisms below.”

Nan Shuang spoke up, “Perhaps laid by the true culprit who harmed the Sea God.”

She looked up at the youth’s dark eyes and inscrutable expression.

Such a young boy, yet his thoughts ran unfathomably deep; his every word and deed inspired awe.

Suddenly, Nan Shuang’s expression shifted, “Master, there is a demonic soul’s presence here in Illusory Dust.”