Chapter 76: Tan Yu, The Secret

Crimson Cloud gathered his energy into unity, and together with the long blade before him, devoured the baleful aura that suffused this place. In his memory, he had never encountered such pure and concentrated energy before, and naturally, he was unwilling to let any of it slip away.

After about an hour had passed, the entire tribulation cloud began to tremble, as if lightning were about to manifest. Yet Crimson Cloud merely rose to his feet, blade in hand, and the tribulation cloud instantly dispersed, vanishing into thin air.

What remained in the sky were clusters of baleful rain, falling in a fine, drizzling mist. Crimson Cloud considered absorbing it all, but when he saw the figures of those master artificers in the distance, a faint sense of guilt stirred in his heart. So he let the rain fall as it would.

If it had been in some desolate wilderness, he might have claimed it all for himself, but here, sharing the bounty was better than hoarding it alone.

With a thought, the long blade in his hand transformed into a myriad of silver feathers, flowing back into the scabbard. His figure blurred as he rode the baleful cloud toward the master artificers.

“Masters…”

Even from a distance, Crimson Cloud’s expression grew solemn. When he arrived before them, his voice was low and grave:

“Master Hua Mo… in the final moment, sacrificed himself to refine the blade.”

Hearing this, the master artificers realized their suspicions were true, and their spirits sank. Yet for all their sorrow, nothing could alter the outcome. All of them were Nirvana cultivators, none younger than a hundred, well accustomed to the cycles of life and death, and so they accepted it with a measure of calm.

One among them glanced at Crimson Cloud’s waist, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

“The weapon Old Mo forged with his life—what form has it taken? How powerful is it?”

A weapon…

Crimson Cloud’s expression did not change. He raised his hand and lightly tapped the Soul-Devouring Scabbard. The long blade leapt forth, hovering in midair.

He reached out and grasped the blade, holding it reversed, the edge resting in his palm. He presented it to the assembled demons:

“This is the weapon.”

The master artificer at the front blinked in surprise. After wiping his hands twice, he took the blade, his heart unable to quiet. As the weapon passed from hand to hand, all the master artificers gathered round, sensing its essence and growing ever more awed.

Seen clearly now, the blade resembled a straight-handled Tang sword, the hilt formed from the Soul-Devouring Scabbard itself, able to be wielded with both hands. Each silver feather gleamed, forming intricate patterns, and the aura of sharpness emanating from it could not be concealed.

After each master artificer had examined it, the blade was finally returned to Crimson Cloud.

As the sword slid back into its scabbard, someone could not help but ask:

“This blade… does it have a name?”

A name?

Crimson Cloud looked down at the long sword, stroked the hilt, and a decision formed in his heart.

“If it is to be named as a blade, let it be called ‘Ephemeral Feather.’”

“Ephemeral Feather?”

The master artificers heard the name and nodded, clearly approving of his choice.

Just as they were about to ask Crimson Cloud for further details, a figure appeared not far away and cleared his throat.

“Zhao Jingcheng, come with me.”

Crimson Cloud heard the voice and looked up to find, unsurprisingly, that it was the Mountain-Crossing Demon King, Yue Lei. He recalled that when he approached earlier, he had vaguely sensed some movement in the shadows, but did not expect that Yue Lei would come in person.

“Greetings, Great Demon Marshal…”

“Greetings, Great Demon Marshal…”

The Mountain-Crossing Demon King cast a glance at the group, nodded slightly, then pulled Crimson Cloud onto his baleful cloud, carrying him away.

…

Man and demon left the great city of the Half-Demon Nation, and before long arrived at a distant snow-capped mountain.

The Mountain-Crossing Demon King looked at Crimson Cloud at his side, his gaze lingering briefly on the Soul-Devouring Scabbard before turning away.

“Zhao Jingcheng, the more I see, the more curious I become about your true identity.”

Had he discovered something?

Crimson Cloud was momentarily startled, but quickly shook his head.

“There’s nothing special about me—just a discarded disciple of the Surging Moon Sect.”

“A discarded disciple?”

The Mountain-Crossing Demon King’s eyes burned into Crimson Cloud, a playful smile on his lips.

“The Surging Moon Sect, both openly and in secret, can’t have more than thirty disciples at your level. For such a powerful sect to cast aside a talent like you? Hard to believe.”

He raised his hand and conjured a box, placing it before Crimson Cloud—it was just like the one he’d seen before, a Wind-Passing Studio message case.

“Zhao Jingcheng, if what’s recorded here is true, you are hiding a great secret.”

“If you already know, Demon King, why bother to ask?”

Crimson Cloud opened the box, scanned its contents, and fell silent.

Not only did it detail his cultivation at every stage, but also his background, his master, and every elder who had ever shown him kindness—all meticulously recorded.

This dossier tugged at the deepest memories of his host’s flesh. To be honest, he had no wish to revisit such obsessions.

He looked away from the Mountain-Crossing Demon King, gazing into the distance.

“A secret is called a secret because no one knows it. Since you know it is a secret, why pursue it further?”

His tone shifted slightly.

“It would be wise for you not to probe too deeply. This world is full of secrets that should remain unknown. Sometimes, ignorance is a form of protection.”

What!

The Mountain-Crossing Demon King’s eyes went wide, his heart thrown into turmoil.

He had never expected to hear such words in this place and at this moment.

For these very words had once been spoken by another, before that person’s departure.

…

That day, the Demon Emperor’s Hall was shrouded in gloom, dark clouds veiling both the man’s brow and his own heart.

“Why do you stop me? Why can’t humans and demons love each other?”

The man looked at him, his tone utterly indifferent.

“You don’t need to know. You only need to obey.”

Just that one sentence drove him mad.

“Obey, obey—before you, all I ever do is obey!”

His furious roar echoed through the Demon Emperor’s Hall.

“I am a demon king, the Mountain King Yue Lei! I want to seek out the answer for myself!”

“So what if you are a demon king? Can you withstand a single blow from me?”

That voice remained cold as frost, devoid of all feeling.

“There are too many things in this world you must not know. There are secrets that, if you so much as glimpse them, will cost you your life. When you are able to see my back clearly, then you may speak such foolish words again.”

After hearing his father’s words, Yue Lei was only more disconsolate. He could not understand what his father was trying to hide. In the end, he left the Demon Emperor’s Hall in anger and never returned.

Since you bestowed the title ‘Heavenly Mountain’ upon me, I shall cross the mountain!

The Heavenly Mountain Demon King is no more—now, there is only the Mountain-Crossing Demon King.