Starting with the consumables of the Demonic Sect, one can barely achieve immortality.

Yan Cheng couldn't help but sigh, the Hidden Immortal Mirror, as a cheat code that accompanies transmigrators on their journey through other worlds, still relies too much on the user's intelligence.

A mirror can reflect the messages of extraordinary things it sees, but it cannot reflect itself.

The only hope is that the owner will gradually discover just how wondrous it truly is.

So far, Yan Cheng knows of four main functions: deduce cultivation techniques, condense moonlight, illuminate all directions, and store spiritual objects.

But is this already the limit of the Hidden Immortal Mirror?

Or perhaps...

Yan Cheng looked up at the silk weaver who had been silently watching him master the mist-forming technique without uttering a word, and suddenly asked:

"Of all the cases in the palace, how many were actually your doing?"

The silk weaver didn't answer for a long time before finally saying:

Does it matter?

Yan Cheng smiled:

"I just suddenly realized that your need for the yang energy of your soul doesn't seem as strong as I thought."

"For the past ten days or so, you haven't laid a single blow to me!"

Upon hearing this, the silk weaver, whose expression was usually impassive, frowned slightly.

"The human soul is not delicious, and the yang energy inside is constantly burning this yin body. It can only be relieved by spitting out silk threads all day long."

"I will not intentionally harm anyone unless it is necessary to save my own life."

Whether it was true or false, Yan Cheng didn't care.

He brought up the previous murder case just to test whether the silk weaver would suddenly decide to have him as an extra meal before leaving.

Otherwise, how can we expect him to stand up for the deceased?

Yan Cheng believed that the Silk Weaver was indeed consuming souls for survival, and therefore could not let his guard down against her.

The moon-shaped mark held in her sleeve has remained with her ever since she left the palace.

Even if someone commits evil for personal gain, they can still be deterred by force.

But for survival?

Yan Cheng didn't think that there could be any selfless saints in this godforsaken place.

At least from the perspective of the Weaver Girl, a nascent corpse cultivator with no relatives or friends, eating him wouldn't be a big deal.

Having the silk weaver transform into mist and entwine herself was certainly to prevent the emperor from investigating, but she also harbored the intention of enticing the silk weaver to speak to her.

If she truly harbors ill intentions, he will immediately ignite the Yin Star Flame across his entire body, transforming into a giant fireball to fight her to the death.

During the atomization process, the silk weaver cannot spin silk to guide out the yang fire.

and……

Yan Cheng recalled the faint, lingering whispers that echoed in his consciousness when he absorbed the Wuding Mist into his body.

With the aid of a secret incantation, the Hidden Immortal Mirror seems to be able to collect even sentient beings whose consciousness still remains!

This is just Yan Cheng's speculation, but as long as he still possesses the Immortal Mirror, his path to enlightenment will be filled with endless possibilities.

As a pre-made being created for a specific purpose, the possibilities of the Silk Weaver have come to an end.

Unless she successfully breaks through this fog and reaches beyond the sea of ​​mist...

Yan Cheng sighed softly.

Regardless, the Weaver Girl did not attack him at the moment of parting, as the two were, after all, fellow Daoists who had traveled together for a while.

When things of one's own kind are hurt, one cannot escape the consequences.

"Do you... know what lies beyond the Sea of ​​Fog?"

"I don't know."

"Then it's hard to say whether this trip will bring you fortune or misfortune, fellow Daoist."

"It's better than waiting to die in the palace."

When Yan Cheng heard the silk weaver retort with her own words, he couldn't help but laugh.

At the same time, he secretly formed the Moon Illumination Seal and used the Divine Penetration Technique to observe the movements in all directions.

No one approached.

Yan Cheng noticed several auras of varying strengths stirring restlessly at the edge of his field of vision.

No problem. These people are a hundred paces away, unable to even know of our existence, let alone witness the moment we receive the moonlight.

Anticipation and anxiety mingled together, causing Yan Cheng's eyes to gleam with a purple flame that could no longer be concealed, shining clearly before the silk weaver.

The silk weaver, however, broke her usual silence and spoke up:

"Since you have contained the mist, you must have heard that voice as well."

"The mist is formed from the remnants of the soul. The more mist accumulates in the body, the more deeply the soul is affected by the residual thoughts."

"In the past... many sisters went mad because of this."

Yan Cheng understood what she meant.

She herself could choose not to contain any more mist, but the silk weaver did not have that option.

As long as she still needs to rely on the yang energy in her soul to live, the residue will automatically turn into mist in her body, and the whispers will torment her even more.

Those who cultivate themselves aim for immortality because they assume that immortality will lead to a carefree and unrestrained life.

But what if one were to achieve immortality while enduring increasingly severe torment each day? Yan Cheng believed that few people would be willing to do so.

The silk weaver seemed to be only talking about her own predicament, but as a corpse cultivator, how much better off was he?

Even if you repair it to the mid- or late-stage stages, it's just a matter of upgrading from a basic consumable to a more valuable one.

They may not seem so easily abandoned, but when the time comes, the cultivators will not hesitate to die for them.

Ultimately, without establishing a foundation for the Way, one cannot escape the lingering influence of the dead.

Even the most powerful cultivator cannot withstand the sound of the golden bell.

Yan Cheng remained silent for a moment, then finally said:

"I still don't plan to leave right now."

The silk weaver remained silent for a long time before finally speaking:

"You're scared!"

She said no more, turned away from him, and waited quietly for the moment when the sea of ​​fog would burst open.

Yan Cheng, too, suppressed his many complicated thoughts and looked up at the place that was about to shine brightly.

Then the sea of ​​fog slowly parted in front of them.

The bright white light illuminated the road ahead. What appeared to be a flat area was actually an abandoned cemetery, but there wasn't a single intact tombstone in sight.

Gravel, broken monuments, deep pits, and broken logs stretch all the way down the slope to the deep, dark forest.

Above that dark sky, a pure white moon hangs high, about to sink below the horizon.

The silk weaver stepped over a broken half of a stone tablet and, without pausing, darted forward like a bird in flight.

Yan Cheng no longer bothered to look at her, but stared intently at the full moon in the sky.

The moon's reflection appeared on the surface of the Hidden Immortal Mirror, and the bright pearl at the top of the mirror continuously emitted pure white light. The inexhaustible Xuan dew was overflowing, and the endless clear liquid flowed down, seeping into every meridian and acupoint of Yan Cheng.

The familiar feeling has returned once again.

The second Moon Essence Tempering!

His keen senses vaguely told him that countless figures had already swept past him, heading towards the path of escape guided by the bright moon, but he was too preoccupied to pay attention to them.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw countless figures flying under the moonlight, the moonlight gilding each black robe with a silvery white hue.

Along with the malevolent energy of the corpse cultivators, it seemed to sublimate into pure and clear Yin energy in an instant.

The figure running at the very front suddenly stopped.

The silk weaver turned around, her face beneath the hood revealing a strange look of terror.

The next moment, Yan Cheng heard the sound of a golden bell ringing.