Journey to the End of the Night Chapter 2 - 2 2 Youth Corpse Demon

Junior Sister has always been Master’s pride and joy.

Once she returns to the sect, she’ll surely tell Master about the discovery of these treasures.

By then, where will there be a share left for him!

Might as well go all in!

But the thought of Junior Sister’s charming and seductive appearance made his heart soften uncontrollably.

How could he bring himself to be so cruel as to hurt such a lovely person?

It would be better to let her help collect these treasures for now.

Later on, in a secluded place, he would force her to his will.

Once she became completely his, she wouldn’t hesitate to keep a secret for him.

His plan seemed perfect, but the woman was no naïve and innocent soul.

The moment he looked away, she had kept her eyes fixed on his face, capturing the malicious intent in his gaze fully in her sights.

Exhausted, she closed her eyes, feeling a chill in her heart.

“Junior Sister, don’t just stand there foolishly, hurry up and help your Senior Brother pick these up.

What Senior Brother said earlier was just a joke.

After we leave this place, I will surely give you half of the treasures and let you pick first.”

However, in her heart, the woman had decided that once they left this place, she would find an opportunity to leave him.

The man let out a light “hmm” as his gaze fell on the short sword at the boy’s chest.

With his keen eyes, he couldn’t discern the origin of the sword.

Yet, given the look of the coffin, it seemed to have some years on it, and the short sword still looked brand new, unaffected by the passage of time—it must surely be no ordinary item.

He reached out to grab the short sword.

Seeing his action, the girl couldn’t bear to see him desecrate a dead spirit and quickly spoke out to stop him: “Senior Brother, it’s enough to take the burial items; let’s respect the dead and not disturb his body any further.”

Hearing her words, the man’s expression darkened with malice.

Every line from Junior Sister seemed to express concern for this dead youth.

Could it be that she was fond of him because of his youthful and handsome appearance?

Jealousy flared inside him, compelling him not to listen to her.

His movements to grab the sword became even more hasty, gripping the hilt tightly and pulling hard.

With a crisp “crack,” the sword did not budge an inch, deeply stuck to his breastbone.

The man’s face grew darker as he set aside the longsword in his hand.

He squarely sat on the boy’s corpse and pulled at the short sword with all his might.

The woman closed her eyes, feeling guilty, and brought her hands together to bow in the direction of the boy.

In her mind, she silently uttered the Rebirth Mantra, hoping the boy could find peace.

But in the instant the woman closed her eyes, the corpse opened its eyes, which had not been opened in hundreds of years.

The eyes were pitch black, like a pool of bottomless still water, showing no ripples.

His gaze was hollow, his pupils larger than those of ordinary people, and looked eerily deep.

The man, absorbed in his effort to remove the short sword, did not notice that the corpse beneath him had opened its eyes.

The deceased boy’s expression was blank, completely unaware of his current situation, his eyeballs slowly rotating.

He looked at the strange man before him, moved his pale lips, yet could not make a sound.

He stiffly lifted his hands, and from the joints came a “crack crack” sound that put one’s teeth on edge.

The crisp noise was exceptionally clear within the silent interior of the coffin.

The woman’s eyes flew open, and she was so terrified that she fell backward into the coffin.

The man also stopped his actions and looked up incredulously at the corpse that had opened its eyes at some unknown time.

Shock filled his heart only for a few moments before his face twisted into a sneer, and he mocked, “After all the trouble, it’s only now turning into a corpse demon, too late to scare anyone.

Junior Sister, don’t be afraid.

It’s just a newly awakened little corpse demon, not to be feared.”

“Crack crack crack.”

As he spoke, the dead boy finally lifted his arms, placing them heavily on his shoulders, his voice dryly rasping as he made an effort to open his lips, his sharp tusks barely visible.

The woman’s heart skipped a beat as she thought the young corpse demon intended to bite someone.

Just as she was about to warn him, she remembered that her Senior Brother was highly skilled—was there any need for her to remind him?

So, out of spite, she chose not to speak.

However, the young corpse demon did not intend to bite anyone.

He struggled to utter a note, but it was not human language.

“This is the Corpse Language, this little one is probably threatening us to scram,” the man said with a cold laugh.

The girl, however, found herself perplexed, as no sign of threat or malice could be discerned on the young boy's countenance.

As a matter of fact, her Senior Brother appeared to be the one embodying the role of the villain.

The young corpse demon distinctly registered his own vocalizations.

Mingled with his bewilderment, a hint of sorrow shadowed his features, signifying his comprehension of the entity he had transformed into.

Nevertheless, he rallied his resolve and stiffly parted his lips once more.

From the fragments of his recollection, he managed to assemble a coherent sentence in human tongue.

"Don't... touch... the... sword... it's... dangerous... leave it..."

The maiden was taken aback; never had she encountered a nascent corpse demon possessing the faculty of human speech upon its awakening.

A frown creased her brow as she remarked, "Senior Brother, he means no harm.

Perhaps that small sword which felled him is indeed perilous.

You ought to hasten over here."

A sinister smirk played upon the man's lips, betraying no apprehension.

He liberated one hand, swatting away the two rigid palms that grasped his shoulder.

Then, tightening his hold around the boy's neck, he declared with venom, "After all this, you still dare to menace me!

Do you not comprehend your own pitiable state?

Eliminating you would be as simple as flicking my wrist!" Yet, his other hand remained firmly clasped around the dagger.

The woman's brow knitted further; she began to grasp the truly execrable nature of her Senior Brother's character.

The young corpse demon, already deceased, its face drained of color, was not affected by the man's grip on its neck.

Its physical form was gone, devoid of breath, and thus naturally impervious.

Moreover, a corpse demon's physical shell was inherently more resilient than that of ordinary mortals.

Mere physical force was insufficient to impact it.

Whether it was a phantom conjured by the man or not, by the sword's faint luminescence, he perceived that the young corpse demon's pallid complexion seemed to regain a semblance of hue, no longer ashen but rather possessing a vibrant, handsome radiance.

Confound it all, it was merely a vessel; how could it induce such disarray within him?

Abruptly, a sharp, stinging pain shot through his fingers.

Glancing down, he observed the hand currently encircling the short sword.

For reasons unknown, each of his fingertips bore minute, pinhole-sized lacerations!

Though minuscule, the wounds seemed connected to his very veins, and his blood, as if freely offered, spiralled with unnatural speed into the unassuming short sword.

The short sword itself remained unchanged in appearance, its hilt gleaming silver, lacking any visible blade.

Yet, this blood poured into the young corpse demon's form, akin to a parched riverbed coming to life with a meager stream.

It was siphoning his Essence Blood!

The man's fury surged, and instinctively, he attempted to withdraw his hand.

To his utter dismay, however, he discovered that the sword's hilt exerted an immense, almost sentient, suction, compelling his palm to adhere to it with unyielding force.

He could distinctly feel his vital Essence Blood being drawn out, a profound terror gripping his heart as the hand constricting the young corpse demon trembled violently with the strain.

With a contorted visage, he bellowed, "Release me, or I shall slay you!"

The young corpse demon, revitalized by the influx of blood, no longer exhibited a fragmented consciousness.

A subtle gleam flickered within its dark irises.

The confusion that had clouded its expression vanished, replaced by an unnerving calm that instinctively sent shivers down one's spine.

Its spoken words lost their earlier raspiness; gazing at the man with placidity, it articulated, "I am already deceased.

How then would you bring about my demise?"

The man roared, his grip on the boy's neck faltering; he was succumbing to excessive blood loss.

His complexion surpassed that of the deceased, his cheeks hollowed, revealing sharp bone structure, rendering him more ghastly than a malevolent spirit.

"Junior Sister, aid me!"

The trembling maiden snapped back to awareness, swiftly seizing a Seven Stars treasure sword from the vicinity and channeling her Spiritual Power into it with desperate intensity.

The sword blazed with resplendent light, yet she shakily aimed it towards the young corpse demon's cheek, her voice quivering as she pleaded, "Let...

let go of my Senior Brother!"

She harbored no desire to extinguish its life; she understood implicitly that this predicament was entirely her Senior Brother's own making, absolving her of blame.

Furthermore, the young corpse demon had issued a warning to her Senior Brother from the outset.

It was her Senior Brother's avarice that had precipitated this fatal calamity; he had coveted sole possession of another's short sword.

Despite comprehending the sequence of events, she could not bring herself to abandon him, given their shared tutelage under the same master.

Moreover, he was her father's favored disciple, a prodigious talent within the Sect; how could she forsake him at such a critical juncture?

Yet, her hand faltered to strike with the sword.

The young corpse demon slowly closed its eyes, imparting with detached indifference, "It is too late; I had already warned him."

In the infinitesimal pause of her indecision, the man had already met his end, slumping lifelessly over the young corpse demon's form.

His eyes were wide open, his skin taut against his skeletal frame, truly resembling a desiccated mummy, deceased yet gazing with indignant eyes.

The girl remained rooted, sword in hand, evidently struggling to accept the stark reality.

Could her Senior Brother, so recently brimming with ambition and future aspirations, truly be dead so abruptly?

The young corpse demon’s body was no longer as rigid as before.

He pushed himself off the male corpse, rising to a half-seated position, and with a placid gaze met the girl's eyes, inquiring, "Do you wish to slay me, seeking vengeance on his behalf?"

The girl appeared bewildered for a considerable time, her gaze fixed upon the young man whose eyes held a lifelessness mirroring his form. Her spirit faltered, and she let her sword fall, shaking her head, "I... I don't know..."

A peculiar sensation washed over her; he had undeniably slain her fellow disciple from the Sect.

He was, without question, a malevolent corpse demon.

Yet, strangely, she felt no fear towards him whatsoever.

Instead, she found his presence more comforting than that of her own Senior Brother, whose cold disposition had often troubled her.

The young corpse demon lowered his head in contemplation, deeming it prudent to offer an explanation.

"My intention was not to end his life.

The living... should refrain from touching this short sword."

The young man gestured towards the fatal sword embedded in his chest.

Her gaze followed his finger to the short sword lodged deep within his torso, her heart experiencing an inexplicable pang of sorrow.

What a truly good young man he had been.

Even in death, he harbored no resentment and offered a kind warning against touching the weapon.

Having been deceased for numerous years and unable to perceive pain, the presence of such a foreign object in his chest was nonetheless profoundly unsettling.

He furrowed his brow slightly, grasped the hilt, and effortlessly withdrew the short sword; no blood emerged.

The girl observed him, initially disinclined to converse further, but within the suffocating silence and tense atmosphere, she found herself compelled to speak.

"Say, what is your name?

And... who was it that ended your life?"

(New book “Journey Through the Long Night” group number: 917572815, little cuties of North’s army, come and play duck~)