My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

The thread was black and thick, like the hemp thread used for sewing shoe soles.

He didn't know when the crack appeared, nor did he remember who made it.

He reached out and touched it. It didn't hurt, but he could feel the slit breathing, opening and closing, as if something was wriggling inside.

A scene suddenly flashed through his mind—he walked into a butcher shop. The shop was small, and half a pig was laid out on the counter.

A chubby man stood behind the chopping board, his apron stained with blood. He held a knife in his hand, its blade gleaming coldly. He smiled and asked if the man wanted to buy some meat, saying it was freshly slaughtered that day.

He shook his head, turned to leave, and then his head spun, and he knew nothing more.

When he woke up again, he was already standing on that street, and as he walked, he arrived at the entrance of the inn.

Now he knows.

He lowered his head, looked at the seam on his chest, stretched out his finger, hooked the black line, and gently pulled it.

The stitches came undone, the seams opened, and the skin was turned inside out, revealing a dark, empty cavity.

No blood, no flesh, no bones, nothing at all.

His body was empty.

The heart is gone, the liver is gone, the lungs are gone, the stomach is gone, and the intestines are gone.

His chest and abdomen were empty, like a bottomless well, dark and unfathomable.

A chilly wind blew in through the hole, and he shivered.

Then he remembered the food the people in that inn ate, the bones, the hearts, the fingers.

He remembered the scraps of meat in that soup bowl.

He remembered what was hanging on the skewer of grilled meat.

His stomach was gone, but he could still feel an inexplicable nausea rising from that void, up to his throat, making him cough.

Wang Laoshi leaned against the door, slowly slid down, and sat on the ground.

He knew he wasn't going to survive.

He touched the seam, trying to tighten the thread, but his fingers wouldn't obey him.

He looked down at the dark opening, watching the wind howl inside.

He remembered everything.

After he fainted from the butcher shop, he was dragged there, disemboweled, all his organs were removed, he was sewn up, and left on the street, waiting for him to walk in himself.

What those people ate in the inn was his heart, his liver, his lungs, his stomach, and his intestines.

He ate himself.

No, he didn't eat it.

He picked up the bowl of soup, almost drank it, but then he put it down.

He smelled a fishy stench, a putrid odor, and he recognized that it was not something a human could drink.

He let it go.

He didn't eat.

But his organs had already been eaten.

They ate it.

Before he knew it.

Wang Laoshi leaned against the door, motionless.

His eyes were still open, but his pupils had already dilated.

The lanterns on the street were still lit. When the wind blew, the lanterns swayed, the candlelight inside went out, then lit up again, then went out again.

The shadows in the alley were also swaying, sometimes long, sometimes short, as if many people were dancing.

From then on, these merchants disappeared. But in the vast mountains, only a few people disappeared, so it didn't cause much of a stir.

......

The mountain path of the Ten Thousand Mountains became narrower and narrower, and the trees on both sides became denser and denser, their branches and leaves intertwined, completely blocking out the sky.

Sunlight filtered through the cracks, casting patches of light on the ground, some bright and some dark, like a shattered mirror.

Lu Yang walked at the front, the sword hanging at his waist, its scabbard slapping against his thigh, making a clapping sound, as if he were keeping time.

He didn't walk fast, but each step he took was very large, as if he wanted to cover two miles in one stride.

Ye Qingfeng walked in the middle, his hands behind his back, unhurried, as if he were taking a stroll in his own backyard.

Shen Zhaoyue followed behind him, holding her sword, her face expressionless, but her eyes kept scanning the woods on both sides.

Miao Gui walked at the very back, carrying a bundle on his back, with a chubby baby squatting on top of it.

The chubby boy gripped the straps of the bundle with both hands, and the red rope was tied around his ankle. The bell was mute and could not be shaken, but he always felt that it was ringing, jingling, jingling, it was A-Luo shaking it.

After walking for most of the day, Lü Yang slowed down.

He looked up at the sky; the sun was already setting, and the light had dimmed considerably.

He thought for a moment, then turned to Ye Qingfeng and said, "Immortal Master, we're not far from the village ahead. That village is the last one on the outskirts of the Ten Thousand Mountains."

Go further in, and you'll reach the inner core area. I've heard it's even more dangerous there; even Martial Saints dare not linger outside for long.

Ye Qingfeng didn't speak, he just nodded.

Miao Gui chimed in from behind: "I know that village, it's called Black Cliff Village. Those who can survive in this place aren't pushovers."

I heard that there are five martial artists at the Martial Saint level in the village, and there is also a sorcerer who is proficient in casting spells and cursing. More than one Martial Saint has died at his hands.

He spoke in a slightly lower voice, as if afraid of being overheard by someone.

Lü Yang turned and glanced at him: "Duan Gong? What Duan Gong?"

Miao Gui said, "It's a sorcerer, the kind who can cast spells. If you offend him, even if you're ten or twenty miles away, he can draw a talisman, chant a spell, and you'll die inexplicably. You won't even know how you died."

Lu Yang shivered and subconsciously touched his neck.

The chubby baby, squatting on the bundle, shrank his neck and buried his face in the back of Miao Gui's head when he heard the word "death."

Ye Qingfeng listened to these words without any expression on his face, but he looked up at the sky.

The sun had already set behind the mountains, and the clouds on the horizon were stained dark red, as if someone had splashed a basin of blood in the sky.

He watched for a while and said, "I'm afraid we won't be able to reach that village before dark."

Lu Yang glanced at the sky, his face contorted with worry. "Immortal Master, does this mean we'll have to spend the night outdoors?"

Ye Qingfeng did not answer and continued walking forward.

As darkness fell, the shadows of the trees on both sides of the mountain path grew thicker, like walls enclosing them in the middle.

Lu Yang took out a tinderbox from his bundle, blew on it a few times, and it lit up.

The firelight illuminated his face, casting flickering shadows.

He raised the tinderbox higher, illuminating the path ahead.

The road was no longer visible; only a small patch of light was visible beneath my feet.

After walking for a while, Ye Qingfeng stopped.

He looked around and chose a relatively flat spot where several large trees formed a semicircle, like a natural barrier.

The ground was covered with a thick layer of fallen leaves, which felt soft and comfortable underfoot.

"Let's stay here tonight," Ye Qingfeng said.

Lu Yang stuck the fire tinder into the ground and began gathering firewood.

Miao Gui put the bundle down, and the chubby baby jumped off the bundle, squatted on the ground, picked up a small twig, and drew circles on the ground.

Shen Zhaoyue held her sword, leaned against a big tree, closed her eyes, as if she were dozing off, or as if she were listening to the sounds around her.

The firewood was piled up, but Lü Yang tried to light it several times without success, and he was sweating profusely with anxiety.

Miao Gui squatted down, took out a small flint from his pocket, struck it a few times, sparks flew out and landed on the dry grass, the flame jumped and caught fire.

Lu Yang chuckled awkwardly, added more branches, and the fire gradually grew stronger.

Several people sat around the fire.

The firelight shone on their faces, making them look warm and orange.

The wind blew by, and the leaves rustled, as if someone was talking in the distance.

Lu Yang stretched, raised his arms above his head, opened his mouth wide, and let out a long yawn.

"Master, we've been walking in this wilderness for so long, our mouths are practically tasteless."