Nine Desolate Records

The end of the Yin hour, the time when the night is darkest.

Lu Li, carrying Yun Jin, stumbled through the last dark alley. Both of them were covered in blood, their steps faltering, leaving intermittent dark trails on the bluestone slabs. The sunshade had long lost its ability to conceal their presence, and now it hung heavily on their shoulders, the blood-soaked fabric clinging to their skin, cold and sticky.

Yun Jin was almost completely unconscious, only able to move thanks to Lu Li's support. Although her right shoulder wound was hastily bandaged, blood was still seeping out, and every breath was filled with suppressed pain. Even more serious was the backlash from the Eye of Truth—those eyes, which had once shone with silver light, were now tightly closed, and instead of cold sweat, dark red blood vessels seeped from the corners of their eyes, leaving shocking marks on their pale cheeks.

The speed at which the lock mark spread across Lu Li's chest slowed down, but it wasn't an improvement; rather, it had penetrated too deeply and was beginning to seep into his flesh. He could clearly feel the bluish-black lines taking root and creeping beneath his collarbone, sucking away at his life force and will like a parasitic plant.

Even more frightening is the tilt of the balance.

The collapse of the Concentration Talisman and the forced connection to the prisoner's essence came at a price far exceeding expectations. The Dragon-Suppressing Dagger and Phoenix-Suppressing Dagger still resonated within him, but the balancing force was now so weak as to be almost imperceptible. In their place, the continuous whispers of the dark blue-green essence within his body directly eroded his consciousness, attempting to pull him into deeper darkness.

Human nature, 48%.

The prisoners' strength is 52%.

This was the last number Yun Jin reported before her Eye of Truth completely dimmed. Lu Li didn't know if she had seen more, but the proportion itself was chilling enough.

The alleyway entrance is just ahead.

Turn another corner, and you'll see the dead locust tree outside the back wall of the blacksmith's shop.

But Lu Li stopped.

It wasn't physical exhaustion, but a kind of instinctive alertness, a sense of danger instilled by the fragments of his prisoner. He turned sideways, shielding Yun Jin in the shadows of the corner, his left eye slightly narrowed as he looked towards the alley entrance.

There were no guards, no pursuers, and not even night watchmen.

There was only deathly silence.

And in the air, there was a faint smell of rust and charcoal fire mixed together—the smell of a blacksmith's shop, but stronger and more pungent than I remembered, mixed with something else... the smell of blood.

Lu Li took a deep breath, channeling the last bit of strength into his legs, and supported Yun Jin as they walked towards the alley entrance.

Then he saw it.

Outside the back wall of the blacksmith's shop, under the withered locust tree, lay more than a dozen corpses lying haphazardly.

They were all dressed in black robes. Some had long swords piercing their chests, some had their necks crushed by heavy objects, and others had their limbs twisted at bizarre angles, as if they had been snapped off by immense force. Blood soaked the soil at the base of the wall, gleaming with a dark purple sheen in the pale moonlight.

Two people were sitting under the locust tree.

The old blind man leaned against a tree trunk, his leather apron torn open, revealing a deep, bone-revealing claw mark on his gaunt chest, a slash diagonally from his right shoulder to his left abdomen. The edges of the wound were blackened, constantly oozing a dark red, viscous liquid—not normal blood, but rather a poisonous mixture of earth's venom and the corrosive power of fear. His eyes were closed, his breathing weak, but his withered right hand still gripped a bloodstained iron hammer tightly.

Lin Qingyuan knelt beside him, hastily pressing the torn piece of his clothing against the old blind man's chest wound. His condition wasn't much better; his left sleeve was completely ripped, and three parallel claw marks on his forearm were deep enough to expose the bone, the skin around the wounds already blackened and ulcerated. Only his right hand, gripping the sword, remained steady, the tip of the blade pressed against the ground, ready to spring at any moment.

Hearing footsteps, Lin Qingyuan suddenly looked up.

The moment he saw Lu Li and Yun Jin, a hint of relief flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a deeper sense of solemnity.

"I'm still alive," he said, his voice hoarse.

Lu Li carried Yun Jin to the tree and carefully placed her on the relatively clean ground.

"What happened by the well?" Lu Li asked, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding corpses.

Lin Qingyuan remained silent for three breaths before slowly speaking:

"It's a trap."

He took a deep breath:

"We arrived at the Dragon Locking Well as planned at 11:45 AM, only to be surrounded by more than thirty members of the Turbid Abyss Cult." Lin Qingyuan gripped his sword hilt tightly. "Moreover, three dark red clouds of blood mist rose from the depths of the well, from which countless pale hands reached out, trying to drag me into the well. It was the old man who saved me." Lin Qingyuan looked at the unconscious old man, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes. "He smashed two of the clouds of blood mist with an iron hammer, but the third one... burrowed into his body. That claw mark was left at that time. The old man was corrupted, and his mind began to blur. I could only fight desperately. I killed fourteen, seriously injured six, and the rest... escaped."

"And what about you? What happened in the dungeon?" Lin Qingyuan asked.

Lu Li briefly recounted everything that happened in the dungeon: the high priest's trap, the ten-breath question and answer in the Realm of Delusion, the awakening of the fear projection, Yun Jin's serious injury, and... the Shu Mountain Sword Tomb, the tomb guardian Xuan Ji, and the natal talisman.

Upon hearing the words "natal talisman," the old blind man, who had been meditating with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them.

Those empty eye sockets "looked" in Lu Li's direction, their voices hoarse like broken bellows:

"Xuanji... I won't give it to you."

"Why?" Lu Li asked.

"Because the natal talisman... is not an object." The old blind man gasped for breath, more black blood gushing from the wound on his chest with each breath. "It is the last 'true spirit' left behind by the ancient sealer of the Shu Mountain Sword Tomb. Once used, the sealer's lingering will completely dissipate, and the corresponding anchor point seal will be permanently weakened. Xuanji has guarded the Sword Tomb for three thousand years, not waiting to give the talisman to someone... but waiting for the sealer to reincarnate and return, to personally take over the mission."

He coughed violently, and black blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.

"Going to him for the talisman... is tantamount to asking him to betray three thousand years of guardianship. He won't agree... unless..."

"Unless what?"

A smile, more painful than a grimace, appeared on the old blind man's face:

"Unless you can prove... that you are the reincarnation of that sealer. Or... that you can provide a more compelling reason than his three thousand years of vigil."

Lu Li remained silent.

Proving oneself to be the reincarnation of an ancient sealer? That's even less likely than obtaining the natal talisman itself. As for the "more important reason"... what reason could be more important than a mission spanning three thousand years?

"Are there any other methods?" Lin Qingyuan asked. "Is it possible to pass the cost balance without using a natal talisman?"

The old blind man shook his head, the movement aggravating his wound, causing him to cough up another mouthful of blood.

"The scales recognize 'concepts'... The reason the natal talisman can deceive it is because it contains the 'sacrifice' of the sealer from back then—a concept heavier than any bond. Without the talisman... one can only offer something of equal value. And what Lu Li is about to offer..."

He "looked" at Lu Li, and for the first time, a feeling akin to pity appeared in his empty eye sockets:

"It is the root of your being as a 'human being'."

Lu Li clenched his fist. His nails dug into his palm, causing a slight stinging pain that kept him alert.

"Then the Prisoner's Nature within you... will completely spiral out of control. It will devour the rest of your humanity, turning you into a monster that acts solely on instinct."

He paused, then added:

"Xun Wenruo will not allow his 'work' to become a useless monster. Before you completely lose control, he will personally... take it back."

Recycle.

What will a player do if the pieces go out of control?

Of course, discard it and get a new one.

"So I had no choice." Lu Li's voice was calm, so calm that even he himself felt unfamiliar with it.

"or--"

The son of the Vice Minister of Rites, the former surveillance officer, now showed no mockery or pity on his face, only a cold, clear-headed detachment:

"The old blind man once said that the nine daggers correspond to the nine concepts of a prisoner. You currently have two of them. If you could also obtain the Turtle-Suppressing Dagger from Mount Shu, would the power of the three daggers be enough to suppress your original essence, allowing you to obtain the Qilin-Suppressing Dagger without going through the scales of justice?"

"Theoretically... it's possible," the old blind man said breathlessly. "Three daggers forming an array can temporarily create a more stable balance seal, completely locking down the source. But... no one knows what the situation is like in the Sword Tomb right now."

Just then, a timid voice came from behind the locust tree:

"I know……"

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound.

A tall, muscular figure emerged from the shadows behind the tree. His face was covered in blood and dust, his coarse clothes were torn in several places, and he carried a huge, bulging satchel on his back. It was Shi Yong—Lu Li and Lin Qingyuan's classmate at the academy, that honest but incredibly strong boy.

"Shi Yong?" Lu Li asked in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

Shi Yong walked over, placed his luggage on the ground, his face showing exhaustion and fear from the long journey. He first glanced warily at the unconscious Yun Jin and the seriously injured old blind man, then lowered his voice and said:

"I escaped from Mount Shu... I almost died on the way here in three days and three nights."

He took out a palm-sized iron plaque covered in sword marks from his pocket and handed it to Lu Li:

"Lu Li, you can't go to Mount Shu. The Sword Tomb is in turmoil, and sword energy is flying all over the mountain, cutting down anyone it sees. The old man Xuanji who guards the mountain is like a madman, and he has activated the mountain protection formation to the highest level, 'Sword Locking Heaven and Earth' - don't even think about going in, anyone who gets within thirty miles of the mountain gate will be killed by the sword energy."

Lu Li took the iron plaque. It felt heavy in his hand, neither iron nor wood, with edges as sharp as blades. The plaque was engraved with an ancient seal script character "玄" (Xuan), and below it was a line of smaller characters: Seventh Inspector of the Demon Suppression Division, Zhao Xuange.

The people from the Demon Suppression Bureau have already been to Mount Shu. And... they're dead.

"That's not the worst of it." Shi Yong licked his chapped lips, his fear deepening. "On my escape, I heard other news... The Demon Suppression Guard headquarters has dispatched the 'Heavenly Punishment Team,' led by a Heavenly Rank commander, who is heading towards Lin Yuan City. The leader is Zhou Duan Yue."

"Zhou Duanyue," Lin Qingyuan repeated subconsciously.

The name caused Yun Jin, who was in a coma, to frown slightly, as if she was still responding to the name even while unconscious.

"Do you know him?" Lu Li looked at Lin Qingyuan.

"One of the Three Pillars of the Demon-Slaying Guard," Lin Qingyuan's voice was icy, "late-stage Heaven Rank, peak Divine Treasure Realm, only half a step away from Creation Realm. Moreover, he has another identity—Xun Wenruo's disciple."

He paused:

"If it's him... Zhou Duanyue's 'Thousand-Mile Soul-Chasing Technique' can lock onto any target within a hundred miles that exhibits prisoner-like fluctuations. Lu Li, your seal and origin are like a campfire in the darkness to him."

Lu Li looked down at the iron plaque in his hand, then at the seriously injured old blind man and Yun Jin, then at the exhausted Lin Qingyuan and the terrified Shi Yong.

Then he raised his head and looked towards the eastern horizon.

There, the morning star had just risen, shining brightly in the deepest darkness before dawn.

"Go to Mount Shu and find a way to enter the Sword Tomb."

"What if we can't find it?" Lin Qingyuan asked.

Lu Li did not answer.

He simply held the iron plaque in his palm and squeezed it tightly.

The sharp edges cut through the skin, and blood dripped from between the fingers, seeping into the soil and mixing with the black blood of the Turbid Abyss cultists, making them indistinguishable.

The pain brought him to his senses and made him resolute.

"Then I'll die," he said. "But before I die, I'll let Xun Wenruo know—even a chess piece can bite."

The morning breeze blew through the locust tree, and the withered branches made a mournful sound.

In the distance, from the direction of the Dragon Locking Well, came a deep, muffled roar that seemed to come from the depths of the earth.

Dawn is approaching.

But the darkness has only just begun.