Chapter Fifty: The Remnant Soul Within the Sword

Once again, a shrill, maniacal laugh echoed from the black hole that had collapsed in the medicine garden. A man and a woman, two dark figures, slipped out from the depths. With a palm strike from afar, he felt a chilling wind surge toward him, seeping into his meridians and causing them to rapidly wither.

“Many Dark Shamans are attacking the Ning family.”

Granny Mu’s voice drifted through the study, ethereal and uncertain. Finding the room empty, Yu Youwei replied calmly, “We can’t let them find Mo Fei—otherwise, he’ll surely die.”

“I’ll seal the teleportation array,” Granny Mu responded succinctly, then fell silent.

Lying on the wooden couch, Ning Mofei seemed void of breath; a bone-chilling cold emanated from his body. White mist billowed out from him in waves, and, if one looked closely, faint runes could be seen swirling and dancing within. Not wanting to disturb Ning Mofei, Yu Youwei stepped away from the couch, following the multicolored, carved stone path eastward into the Sky-grade section, intending to pass the time by perusing the bookshelves. As she reached for a book, her hand brushed against a translucent barrier encasing the shelves. The soul-shaking pressure made her heart tremble, and she retreated at once. The same was true in the Earth-grade section, so she went to the Yellow-grade area instead.

She picked up the first book, “Thunderbolt Blade Art,” flipped through a few pages, and set it aside with little interest. The second, “The Formula of Departing Flame’s Profound Qi,” she read from start to finish, gaining some insights. Just as she reached for a third, the sound of the purple sandalwood couch cracking from frost snapped her attention; she was startled.

The chill pouring from Ning Mofei grew denser, thickening the white mist and leaving a thin layer of frost on the study’s grand walls. His body now resembled a human-shaped black hole—darkness so profound it almost flickered with flames, as if black light and fire leapt from him, devouring the space around him.

Lying there silently, his form continuously expanded, swallowing the very air. Though only steps away, Yu Youwei found him strangely indistinct, unable to sense the breath of life within him. “Mo Fei, hold on. I have no desire to become a widow,” she whispered anxiously.

As if in response, a powerful and mysterious aura erupted from Ning Mofei’s body.

Qing Shuang began to hum softly. Yu Youwei stared in disbelief, murmuring to herself, “Has the inheritance not even completed, and yet Qing Shuang already feels threatened? Mo Fei, you’re truly something to look forward to!”

Without warning, Ning Mofei’s tightly closed eyes snapped open. Black and white, clear as stars in the boundless sky, his gaze was deep and cold, carrying the loneliness of one who scorns all life. Meeting those eyes, Yu Youwei’s heart clenched—had Mo Fei finally fallen under the Soul-Devourer’s control?

Would Ning Mofei, under the Soul-Devourer’s sway, become a bloodthirsty fiend? The thought flashed through Yu Youwei’s mind, but it stirred no murderous intent. The image of him shielding her from the Soul-Devourer’s sword was etched into her heart’s softest place. Now, all she could think was: No one must know he’s been taken by the Soul-Devourer!

“Mo Fei, are you hungry?” Yu Youwei asked gently.

A trace of confusion flickered in his eyes, but Ning Mofei gave no reply.

“We can’t leave right now, and there’s nothing to eat. Would you prefer a Bloodcloud Ganoderma, or one of my inferior Vitality Pills?” With a flick of her slender wrist, a red, glistening mushroom and a green pill appeared on her pale, jade-like palm.

The glossy cap of the fungus shone crimson, the pill emerald, each radiating its own light. Ning Mofei’s expression shifted—the loneliness faded, replaced by a look of urgent hunger. “So hungry,” he said, lips pressed together, thick with grievance.

Yu Youwei smiled and replied lightly, “Then you must restrain your aura. If I come closer and your aura goes wild, you might not recognize me, and perhaps you’d kill me with a single blow.”

“I’d never!” Ning Mofei answered resolutely.

“Just now, you almost didn’t recognize me. You scared me half to death.” Pretending to be frightened, she patted her chest and asked tentatively, “Mo Fei, how did you recognize me in the end?”

“I had a dream,” Ning Mofei said, bewildered. “When I woke, I saw you.”

“Do you remember what you dreamed of?”

“My dream…” His lashes fluttered, and his voice cut off abruptly. That lonely aura returned, chill surging forth and dropping the room’s temperature sharply.

The cold was biting. Yu Youwei shivered, her voice trembling, “Forget it, Mo Fei, don’t think about it.”

“Even under my soul’s command, he can still awaken—this boy is truly remarkable,” Ning Mofei said slowly, his tone and manner utterly changed.

“Soul-Devourer Peak Master, Ye Jiuyou?” Yu Youwei’s heart sank—Mo Fei, in the end, could not escape this calamity?

“What a clever beauty—quick-witted enough to bring this little fool here to hide.” Ning Mofei laughed, a wicked charm blooming on his devastatingly handsome face. “Come, warm my bed.”

Qing Shuang quivered, its blade aimed at Ning Mofei. Yu Youwei sneered, “Your true body is sealed, and with only a sliver of soul consciousness, you still dream of stirring up trouble? Ye Jiuyou, how ignorant and arrogant must you be to even entertain such thoughts?”

“A magic weapon?” Ning Mofei’s pupils contracted, then he laughed aloud. “A mere broken treasure, its power less than a tenth—do you dare flash it about? My beauty—”

He certainly had a sharp eye; with just a glance, he’d seen that Qing Shuang was damaged! Yu Youwei’s heart jumped, but she didn’t lose her edge; instead, her bearing only grew sharper. “The Soul-Devourer is formidable, but with your current soul state, you can’t wield it at all. As for Mo Fei’s condition, I know better than you. Peak Master Duan, do you really think you have the right to be arrogant before me?”

The laughter abruptly ceased. The loneliness in Ning Mofei’s eyes was replaced by a killing intent as cold as ice. “The Soul-Devourer is not like your broken sword, able to shield its master on its own.”

Even so, Yu Youwei smiled. “A bit of poison, some sedative, or simply corpse-dissolving water—and the body you just stole would vanish. What could the Soul-Devourer do then? Qing Shuang may be damaged, but it can withstand a single attack from the Soul-Devourer.”

The icy killing aura receded like the tide. Ning Mofei closed his eyes and fell silent. The rapid rise and fall of his chest betrayed his anger—once the formidable master of Jiuyou Peak, now provoked beyond measure, yet no longer daring to challenge.

Yu Youwei, too, prodded no further and simply waited.

After a long while, Ning Mofei said in a low voice, “You wouldn’t destroy this fool’s body.”

“Perhaps.” Yu Youwei smiled nonchalantly, giving Qing Shuang a casual flick. “But in the end, self-preservation is the law of heaven and earth. If I ever believe a threat must be eliminated, I won’t hesitate.”

After another long silence, Ning Mofei said, “We can cooperate.”

“Sorry, I don’t make deals with tigers for their pelts,” Yu Youwei refused without hesitation, a wicked smile rising on her snowy, delicate face. “Did I forget to mention? I can actually use Soul Control Arts on Mo Fei. Now, can you feel your connection with the Soul-Devourer Sword growing weaker?”