Journey to the End of the Night Chapter 1 - 1 1 The Dead Rises from the Devil
1: Chapter 1: The Dead Rises from the Devil 1: Chapter 1: The Dead Rises from the Devil “Senior Brother, what is this coffin constructed from?
It appears neither like gold nor wood, and it possesses exceptional hardness; even your Seven Stars Sword could not inflict a single scratch upon it.”
“Junior Sister, please lower your voice.
If you startle the deceased within, matters could become dire.
This Purple Gold Coffin is fashioned from a special, ancient purple bamboo wood.
Naturally, my Seven Stars Sword is incapable of leaving any marks upon it.”
“If it is merely a corpse, why would it awaken?” The girl’s voice held a slight tremor.
“Cease your incessant questioning.
The coffin possesses a life gate.
The Spirit Communication Jade bestowed upon me by our Master can unlock this gate.
Upon opening this coffin…
Although Master did not explicitly state the nature of the demon we are tasked with subduing in the Demon Cave, I have acquired some comprehension.
Their primary objective is to eliminate the Corpse King, Jiang Chen!
If my assessment is accurate, the individual interred within this coffin, receiving the veneration of myriad specters, must undoubtedly be the Corpse King Jiang Chen!”
“Ah!” The young woman gasped in astonishment.
“Is it truly that Jiang Chen?!
Senior Brother, perhaps we should forgo opening this coffin and depart with haste?”
“Absolutely not!” The man declared with unwavering resolve.
“Master has consistently held the belief that I have not endured sufficient trials and tribulations, and has consequently been reluctant to consent to your betrothal to me.
This opportunity presents itself rarely; Jiang Chen is at a pivotal juncture in his transformation.
Should I succeed in vanquishing him whilst he slumbers, Master will undoubtedly begin to regard me with greater favor and agree to your betrothal.
Ah, I have discovered the life gate.”
The man exclaimed with sudden elation, and with a resonant rumble, the formidable coffin lid creaked open halfway.
Without awaiting the girl’s objection or plea for caution, the young man adjusted his Daoist robe and leaped into the Purple Gold Coffin, leaving her isolated, hovering above the partially opened sarcophagus in the heart of the Demon Cave.
A chilling gust swept through, carrying what seemed to be the lamentations of spirits; the girl, her expression bordering on tears, gazed down into the unfathomable chasm, her heart heavy with concern for her Senior Brother’s safety.
Gritting her teeth, she too plunged into the coffin.
However, the moment her feet made contact, they brushed against an unnervingly cold, rigid form.
She stumbled, letting out a cry, and landed face-first.
Her forehead struck against a cold brow, and the girl instantly realized she was positioned atop something substantial.
This was her inaugural descent from the mountain to vanquish fiends and malevolent spirits; she had never encountered such a situation and began to cry out, “Senior Brother!
Senior Brother!
Senior Brother!”
A resonant humming sound, characteristic of a sword, promptly followed.
The Seven Stars Sword emanated a soft luminescence, and the girl, gripped by panic yet clinging to a ray of hope, directed her gaze towards the sword’s light.
The coffin was of considerable size; even with three individuals within, ample space remained.
She observed her Senior Brother standing, sword in hand, not near her, his countenance marked by extreme displeasure – though this was not the expression of encountering a terrifying entity.
Rather, it conveyed profound disappointment.
A sharp pang of sorrow struck the girl’s heart, fearing that her Senior Brother, in his impulsive action, might have provoked some spectral entity, and disregarding her own fear, she had entered this ill-fated coffin alongside him.
Yet, her Senior Brother paid her no mind, permitting her to fall and collide with a frigid cadaver, without even the courtesy of assisting her upright; his gaze meticulously and eagerly traversed the coffin's interior.
The man, replete with disappointment, declared, “It is merely an ordinary corpse, its spiritual essence so faint it has nearly dissipated.
This individual likely did not surpass the age of sixteen; they are not Jiang Chen.”
Upon hearing these words, the girl’s disappointment intensified exponentially—it was evident that in comparison to her Senior Brother’s promising future, the well-being of their fellow disciples was a matter of negligible importance.
Fortuitously, the girl was not an ordinary individual.
Having dedicated over a decade to cultivation, she had been privy to numerous narratives concerning phantoms and monsters, and having remained prone upon this corpse for an extended period without disturbance, it was likely merely a common deceased person.
Shortly after composing herself, a flicker of intrigue surfaced within her heart.
Senior Brother had stated that the person entombed in the coffin was merely sixteen years old.
Why would someone so young meet their demise and subsequently be interred within the Demon Cave, a locale proscribed to the living?
Illuminated by the dim, residual light, she meticulously examined the corpse situated beneath her.
At this closer inspection, the vestiges of fear remaining within her vanished completely.
Recumbent beneath her was nothing more than a young man, approximately fifteen or sixteen years of age, and quite comely in appearance.
A slender, diminutive sword was lodged deep within his chest, its full length hidden, a testament to the lethal intent of its wielder.
This was undeniably the fatal blow that had claimed the young man’s life.
His eyes were shut, his complexion devoid of color, yet an undeniable grace lingered about him.
His features were finely chiseled and elegant, radiating a gentle charm, the very image that would captivate young ladies.
Were it not for the deathly pallor of his skin, he might have appeared as a boy in a peaceful slumber.
Observing the serene countenance of the deceased youth, she inexplicably sensed a profound, lingering sorrow.
Baili An found himself immersed in an extended dreamscape.
The dream felt remote, its specific details eluding him even as he navigated its depths.
He was akin to a solitary leaf adrift on a tumultuous sea, vulnerable to being engulfed by a colossal wave at any moment.
Clinging to his fading awareness, he resisted the pull of oblivion.
Slowly, a distinct vision began to form; the surrounding imagery was hazy and indistinct, phantom shapes swirling like ravenous beasts, baring their teeth and extending their claws.
There was no escape; behind him lay only an abyss.
With chilling precision, a fine, small sword found its mark in his heart.
An unbearable agony surged through him, his extremities turning frigid as his lifeblood ebbed away.
And then, he ceased to be.
He could not open his eyes, draw breath, or stir, for he was nothing more than a corpse.
He was interred within a resplendent coffin adorned with purple and gold.
The departed are like extinguished flames, gone from this world.
Following death, his soul ought to have returned to the earth, rejoining the cycle of rebirth.
However, the specially prepared coffin became his eternal prison.
His frail and forlorn soul was condemned to perpetual confinement within this confined space.
Peace eluded him; reincarnation was denied.
He could only contend futilely, spiraling into a dreadful and solitary eternity.
In a state of semi-consciousness, an ancient and resonant voice penetrated his awareness.
The voice, ineffable by any earthly language, imbued with an unfathomable mystical power, began to reassemble his dissipating soul.
Uncountable years may have elapsed since that moment, the voice a constant companion, filling his void, articulating sounds he could not comprehend.
Even now, he remained unable to part his eyelids, his body still stiff, yet a soft, melodious female voice reached him.
“This young man is quite handsome; certainly not the Corpse King Jiang Chen your Senior Brother mentioned.
He doesn’t appear to be a malevolent individual either, so why did he meet his end in this place?”
Observing his Junior Sister reclining upon the youthful corpse, a corpse whose very appearance surpassed his own, the man experienced a surge of inexplicable annoyance.
The man declared with a glacial tone, “Appearances are often deceptive.
Given that he is venerated by ten thousand specters, he cannot possibly be a benevolent spirit.
Junior Sister, withdraw from that spot.
Witness as I vanquish this wicked entity and obliterate his physical form.”
A sudden shiver traced the woman’s spine, as if she were truly perceiving her Senior Brother for the very first time.
Typically, her Senior Brother presented a humble, courteous, and gentle demeanor, embodying the very picture of a gentleman, earning the respect and affection of the younger disciples within the Sect.
Yet, in this secluded location, absent their Master and any external observers, his disposition had shifted dramatically.
She disengaged herself from atop the young corpse, brushing the accumulated dust from her attire.
A delicate clinking sound echoed as something detached and fell.
A Jade Ring tumbled from her bosom into the coffin, emitting a clear resonance.
The man’s gaze sharpened, his eyes tracking the trajectory of the descending Jade Ring with fervent intensity.
“Jade birthed from pristine waters!
A Spatial Artifact!
It is truly a Spatial Artifact!”
Despite his efforts to conceal it, the man’s avarice was starkly apparent on his features.
The woman glanced down at the vibrant green ring, then stooped to retrieve it.
As a disciple of a Cultivation Sect herself, she recognized the nature of a Spatial Artifact.
Naturally, she would not ordinarily possess such an item.
It must have been dislodged and fallen into her garments during the impact when she landed upon the young man’s corpse.
This Jade, formed from pure water, a treasure of spatial capacity, unlike the Qiankun Bag which could only contain inanimate objects, possessed the unique ability to preserve living spirit beasts and was exclusively held by the esteemed houses of the Righteous Sects.
Even within their own Lihe Sect, such a treasure was unheard of, explaining the Senior Brother’s palpable excitement.
Raising the Jade Ring, she declared with a touch of indignation, “This jade, born from pure water, is a hallmark of only legitimate Cultivation Sects.
If it was intended to accompany this young man into the afterlife, then he must hail from a Righteous Sect.
Under no circumstances should we desecrate a corpse without just cause!”
Only individuals of noble standing would commit such extravagance, expending considerable resources to bury such opulent items with their deceased.
The inherently cold and self-serving tendencies of the Demon Path would have certainly led them to seize such artifacts long ago, rather than leaving them untouched until this very moment.
However, the man was entirely disregarding these points.
He acknowledged this truth, yet for him, it held no bearing.
What truly mattered was the certainty that if these were burial artifacts, there had to be more than just one.
Ignoring his Junior Sister's inquiries, he swiftly employed the faint luminescence emanating from his sword to survey the area surrounding the coffin.
A growing brilliance began to suffuse his eyes, surpassing even the light shed by the sword clutched in his grasp.
Unable to suppress his emotions, the tip of his sword started to quiver.
He clamped his teeth together firmly, striving to stifle any outburst of exultation.
His gaze blazed with an almost fanatical intensity, his countenance contorted with a feverish anticipation that coursed through every fiber of his being.
Murmuring softly to himself, he proclaimed, "The Shadow Sword!
The Night Light Cup!
The Mountain River Fan!
The Demon Suppression Tower!
And what could this be?!
Heavens above!
There is also the Glazed Umbrella!
An abundance of treasures!
If all of these were to become mine, why would I ever concern myself with the perilous and unpredictable path that lies ahead!"
The woman's spirit sank, her arms falling to her sides, a heavy disappointment weighing upon her heart.
The man, hunched over in his fervent excitement, assiduously gathered the shimmering artifacts strewn across the ground, his thoughts completely detached from the perils of vanquishing demons and malevolent spirits.
With his left hand, he unceremoniously nudged aside his beloved Junior Sister, who was inconveniently positioned in his path.
Collecting…
Collecting…
The eager sparkle in his eyes abruptly morphed into a savage glare, as he suddenly recalled that he was not the sole individual present.