Chapter Eighty-Five: The Hunter Becomes the Prey

As night descended, a cruel smile curled at the corners of Demon Night’s lips. He drew the Blood-Weeping Divine Sword and doubled back. Relying on the cover of darkness, he quietly lay in wait.

Those who had been pursuing Demon Night gathered in small groups, chatting amongst themselves. Some, after a brief rest, continued their search.

Watching a portion of the crowd leave, Demon Night gave a cold snort, a smile of disdain flashing across his face.

“Fools courting death.”

He silently followed after them.

A sudden, anguished scream tore through the tranquil night. At that moment, Demon Night seemed like the reaper himself—wherever he passed, figures crumpled to the ground, never to rise again.

“What’s going on?” The remaining group, startled, sprang to their feet, weapons in hand, backs pressed together as they warily scanned their surroundings.

“Fellow cultivators and seniors! I am Mo Chen of Fire Dance Academy. I hope we can all unite and capture Demon Night together!”

Everyone turned their gaze to the young man who had stepped forward, murmuring amongst themselves.

“I never expected it! So he’s the senior brother from Fire Dance Academy! I heard he entered the Realm of Spirit Communion at just seventeen, and has already grasped the rudiments of a domain!”

Amid the whispers, Mo Chen’s face shone with smug pride as he looked around at the crowd.

“Everyone, there was a scream up ahead just now. I suggest we investigate together.”

The group exchanged glances and nodded lightly.

“Very well! I will go with Brother Mo Chen to investigate!”

“I’ll come too!”

“Count me in!”

Their support filled Mo Chen with satisfaction. He cupped his fists and smiled.

“My thanks for your trust! Let’s see what’s happened together.”

They formed up with Mo Chen at the center, swiftly heading toward the source of the sound.

As they arrived, the sight of corpses strewn haphazardly on the ground made everyone’s eyes widen in horror. Hands clutched at their throats, twisted faces frozen in agony. The living instinctively edged closer together, chilled to the bone.

Mo Chen felt his own scalp prickle. Though he could dispatch these people quickly, he could not do so in utter silence, nor with such lethal precision. His previous contempt was replaced by caution.

“Be careful, everyone! Demon Night’s reputation is well earned. Acting alone will only let him pick us off one by one, so from now on, we move together.”

The crowd nodded in agreement. Mo Chen looked around and saw the fear written on their faces, shaking his head in disappointment.

“For now, return and rest. Stay vigilant, and don’t let yourselves be ambushed.”

He returned with the group to their campsite. They gathered in clusters, swords never leaving their hands, alert and watchful.

“A pack of cowards,” Mo Chen muttered under his breath. He turned to a young disciple from Fire Dance Academy. “Junior brother, I’ll trouble you to take the night watch tonight.”

The young man cupped his fists respectfully, gazing at Mo Chen with adoration.

“Rest assured, senior brother! Not even a blade of grass will stir without me noticing!”

Mo Chen, satisfied, patted the young man’s shoulder, then settled down by the fire.

Night deepened. Apart from the chirping of insects and the crackle of burning wood, there were no other sounds. One by one, people leaned against trees and drifted into sleep.

Demon Night was like a venomous snake waiting to strike. Watching the sleeping crowd, he endured in the shadows, observing, biding his time.

When the night reached its darkest hour, he began to move. Silently, he eliminated the sentries, then crept into the heart of the camp.

“If you want to kill me, be prepared to pay with your lives.”

With that thought, Demon Night grew even colder. One after another, he slew those who slept, showing no mercy, until he crept close to Mo Chen’s group.

It was then that Mo Chen seemed to sense something. His brow furrowed, eyelids twitching as if about to open. Sensing trouble, Demon Night struck with lethal intent, but Mo Chen narrowly evaded the blow.

Mo Chen flew back over ten meters, clutching his chest as he spat blood, his strength fading.

“Despicable! If you have any guts, face me in a real fight!”

Having slaughtered all but Mo Chen, Demon Night strode over, looking at him with disdain.

“You call me despicable? You and your mob hunting me—is that not despicable?”

With blood dripping from the Blood-Weeping Sword, Demon Night dug a finger in his ear, not sparing Mo Chen a second glance.

“I won’t kill you today. Go back and tell those who pursue me: if anyone dares to hunt me again, they’d best be ready to remain in the primeval forest forever.”

With those words, Demon Night dashed into the depths of the forest. Mo Chen, clutching his chest, watched the receding figure, humiliation burning within him.

“Very well! You won’t even look me in the eye. I’ll make you regret everything you’ve done today!”

Staggering, Mo Chen made his way toward the exit.