Chapter Seventeen: A Shocking Secret

“Heh, you weren’t saying that just now. Where’s your arrogant bluster gone?” Yi’an looked at her with a teasing smile.

Night roaming meant that the spirit was no longer afraid of strong winds and could wander freely at night, but there were still many taboos—most importantly, never to encounter sunlight, lest one be instantly reduced to ashes.

His vital blood, too, was a thing of pure yang energy, much like sunlight itself. Only spirits who had reached the level of day roaming could withstand the sun; even daylight could not weaken them then.

It was precisely this principle that Yi’an had used, forcing out some of his own vital blood to directly weaken her spirit. Fortunately, what little blood he lost could be replenished through cultivation and restorative foods.

“Little cultivator, I’m just a weak woman—how could I possibly kill you? Just now, I was only teasing you, don’t take it so seriously.” The woman gave a charming, shy smile—she was truly enchanting, captivating to the core.

Such a delicate beauty, so pitifully lovely, would stir any man’s urge to protect her.

Yet, remembering that her true form might be some hideous monster, Yi’an felt nothing but disgust.

“Well then, little lady, should I tease you back?” Yi’an said, pressing his blood-stained hand against her face.

Though only a trace remained, it was enough to trouble her for a while.

“Ah! Damn thief! Tell me, what do you want? Though my spirit is wounded, a dying camel is still larger than a horse—don’t force me to fight you to the death!” she roared.

Yi’an merely smiled, unfazed by her murderous glare. “Why are you so angry? Don’t scare me. If you really had the power to resist, you wouldn’t have waited until now.”

At his words, her expression changed dramatically, regret filling her heart. Had she not underestimated him, she would never have fallen into his trap.

Now her cultivation was greatly diminished, and she was at the mercy of this shameless man.

In her current state, it would take hours before she could recover. After all, pure yang energy was her nemesis.

“I ask you, what is your origin?” Yi’an demanded.

“Thief! It’s just my misfortune to fall into your hands. Since you won’t let me go, why should I answer your questions?” she sneered.

“Hmph. I’m not terribly interested in your affairs. If you don’t tell me, I lose nothing—but if you do, I might show mercy and spare your life,” Yi’an replied nonchalantly.

“Are you stupid, or am I? Humans are always faithless, their words no more than empty air. I don’t believe you. Unless you swear an oath to your inner demon, I won’t cooperate,” she retorted.

Oaths meant little to ordinary people, but for cultivators, words were binding. Otherwise, the heavens would take notice, calamity would descend, and their cultivation would stagnate.

Yi’an fell silent.

But she failed to notice the subtle smile at the corner of his lips as she finished speaking.

He knew well what an inner demon oath was, but her plan was destined to fail. Such oaths might bind the natives of this world, but for someone like him—an outsider—the heavens probably wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence.

In other words, the heavenly order was a set of rules, overseeing every being and thing from the moment of birth. Yi’an, however, was an unpredictable intruder—unrecognized by the heavens. Thus, such oaths held no power over him.

“Fine, I agree,” Yi’an said.

He proceeded to swear the oath.

Her heart leapt in joy. “I am Xi Baijun—that’s the name I gave myself. I am a carp spirit, cultivated for centuries, shed my monster form and attained immortality, appointed as the River God of Qiantang. That ruined temple you stayed in is my river god’s shrine.”

Yi’an was astonished. “You were appointed as a river god. You should have a bright future, and the people’s offerings ought to prevent you from ending up like this, shouldn’t they?”

He felt her story was riddled with inconsistencies, as though she were making it up to deceive him.

Looking at her earlier behavior, so monstrous, it was hard to associate her with a river god.

Moreover, she claimed to have shed her monster form and become divine—how could she be so powerless now?

“You don’t know? Seems you truly are a naïve country boy,” Xi Baijun replied in surprise.

It was hardly a secret anymore, widely known among cultivators.

“Enough chatter. Tell me everything, from the start,” Yi’an pressed her.

“Why so fierce? You lack all charm,” she snapped at him, then continued, “About two hundred years ago, we deities of the lower realms suddenly lost contact with the Celestial Court. It happened abruptly, without warning.”

“Where did the Celestial Court go?” Yi’an was shocked.

Others might not understand the Court’s power, but Yi’an did. The Six Saints were truly immortal, indestructible beings, bodies forged in primordial chaos, surviving countless tribulations. Even the Supreme Emperor possessed boundless might, and the Court boasted innumerable gods. What force could cause such an invincible realm to vanish overnight?

“I don’t know. If I did, would I be in this state now?” Xi Baijun smiled bitterly.

Once a guardian god, now reduced to a monster preying on mortals—a cruel irony.

“But even without the Celestial Court, you should have survived on the people’s offerings. Why are you like this?” Yi’an asked, puzzled.

“What if the offerings were gone?” She sighed. “It all seemed like a premeditated conspiracy. Not long after the Court vanished, a group appeared.”

“They destroyed our statues, wrecked temples. Later we learned they were from the Yanbei Dynasty. With the court behind them, the people gradually stopped believing in the gods.”

“Do you know why the Yanbei Dynasty did this? Didn’t you think to fight back?” Yi’an furrowed his brow, sensing a hidden, earth-shaking secret behind it all.