The night was torn into fragments by the mountain wind, whispering uneasily as it shuttled through the forest. Bai Lin leaned against a withered cedar, the chill at his shoulder like an ice blade piercing into his bone seams. His breathing was suppressed to the thinnest possible, like the last wisp of mist hidden in a corpse.
—But the pursuers were still closing in.
Footsteps, scattered spiritual energy vibrations, and irrepressible killing intent.
This group was different from the previous ones.
He could smell it—faint but real—the unique golden rune incense of the sect.
That wasn't something ordinary patrol disciples carried; it was—
A formal hunting squad with a mission and authorization.
Bai Lin opened his eyes. A faint gray pattern flashed in his pupils, corpse veins slithering subtly beneath his skin. He endured to keep his breathing from turning too cold, for once he entered the "stasis state," he wouldn't be able to respond quickly.
These people had come too fast.
So fast it didn't seem like a coincidence.
He pressed his chest, where the corpse veins pulsed slowly, like some dark undercurrent sunk in the deep sea, restlessly pounding against him.
The Demon Emperor's remnant power was still restless.
The previous resonance had deepened the fissures in his body. Bai Lin could feel it; he was turning cold faster than before, and his heartbeat occasionally synced with the corpse veins' rhythm—that sensation felt like he wasn't in control of his own body.
He had to stay conscious.
He must.
The mountain wind was suddenly cut off.
A low, hoarse voice rang out:
"He's nearby. That kid's injuries haven't healed; he can't have gone far."
Another voice, sharp and frivolous:
"Brother Qi, do you think he's really mutated? Why is the sect so eager to capture him back?"
"That's none of your business. The higher-ups gave the order; just follow it."
Brother Qi said coldly.
Bai Lin's brow twitched slightly.
These pursuers' gear wasn't that of an ordinary exploration team. Their spiritual pressure was stable, their steps like they'd been trained countless times; most importantly—one of them had abnormally sharp perception.
That person suddenly stopped.
Bai Lin's nape tensed instantly.
—Had he been discovered? No, not completely. The other seemed to "sense a certain void" but couldn't pinpoint it.
It was the aura gap left behind by his "low-temperature stasis."
"Something's missing over there." That person's voice carried a strange tremor. "The air's echo isn't right…"
Bai Lin's heart sank.
That person… was a bit like the "void-sight" pursuer from Chapter 10.
But sharper, more like someone who'd truly encountered the rift realms.
This was bad.
This batch of pursuers… their level was far higher than before.
If they closed in—
He would die.
He lowered his head to look at the slightly graying skin under his sleeve.
Or—
He would become something that wasn't "Bai Lin."
He couldn't run anymore.
If he kept running, they'd force him to lose control.
A beam of spiritual light suddenly lit up in the valley.
"Over there!"
Three pursuers charged toward the woods where he was. Brother Qi commanded from behind in a deep voice:
"Be careful! His constitution is abnormal; don't let him get close!"
Bai Lin didn't retreat; instead, he stepped forward in an instant.
This time, he didn't plan to rely on the corpse veins going berserk.
This time—
He would consciously choose between life and death.
The foremost pursuer raised his hand, spiritual blade gleaming with sharp cold light.
Bai Lin gazed at that light, his eyes unusually calm.
He had long known that one day, he would have to kill.
No longer passive, no longer forced, no longer reflexive retaliation.
It was a choice.
He could feel the corpse veins trembling slightly within him, not the berserk kind, but like some… waiting.
A question: "What do you plan to do?"
Bai Lin stomped the ground and charged forward.
Faster than the pursuers anticipated.
That pursuer exclaimed in shock: "He—"
Bai Lin was already in front of him.
Palm raised, without spiritual energy or technique, just a cold, terrifying force surging up his arm.
He pressed against the pursuer's chest.
Fingertips sank into the opponent's armor.
Corpse veins drilled into muscle gaps like snakes.
The pursuer's pupils contracted sharply, lips trembling speechless.
The next instant—
Puff.
Not an explosion, but an extremely quiet, extremely cold shattering.
The pursuer's sternum cracked like it had been frozen and struck, spiritual energy dissipating in an instant.
Bai Lin withdrew his hand.
The pursuer fell.
No scream, no blood spray, no struggle.
—As if "being alive" had been drained away.
Bai Lin stood in place, fingertips trembling slightly.
This time, he hadn't lost control, hadn't heard the Demon Emperor's pulse, hadn't acted in chaos.
He was very clear about what he'd done.
Very clear on how to kill the opponent.
And very clear—
He had crossed a line he once refused to step over.
The mountain wind turned particularly cold at that moment.
The remaining pursuers froze.
Someone nervously stepped back:
"He… did he just use corpse qi?!"
"You idiots!" Brother Qi roared. "He's not fully corpsified! He's half-alive, half-dead! His thinking should be extremely chaotic… but he…"
He looked at Bai Lin, his gaze showing true gravity for the first time:
"…He's conscious."
Bai Lin lifted his eyes.
That gaze held no anger, no killing intent, just a cold like the deepest ocean floor.
In that moment, the pursuers truly realized one thing:
—What they'd surrounded wasn't an injured prey.
—It was something gradually adapting to its power, learning to "choose."
Brother Qi said in a low voice:
"Seal off all his escape routes. He can't leave tonight."
Bai Lin calmly exhaled.
He knew.
In this chapter, in this moment, there was no turning back.
He had killed proactively for the first time.
Crossed the bottom line for the first time.
For the first time, between the black mist and the sect, he chose the cruel way to "survive."
He picked up the fallen spiritual blade from the pursuer, his fingers still like ice.
"Want to kill me?" Bai Lin's voice was low and hoarse, yet remarkably steady. "Then… it's my turn."
He stepped forward.
Spiritual lights bloomed all around simultaneously.
The pursuers—pounced to kill.
Bai Lin pressed his chest, staggering back half a step from the impact of the void-sight cultivator's corpse.
The blood's warmth was quickly stolen by the mountain forest's chill, dripping along the air into some invisible deep valley.
The pursuers' breaths were chaotic, retreating then advancing, blades gripped so tightly they creaked—
They hadn't expected someone to "consciously" kill their own comrade.
A few cultivators wanted to shout, but their throats felt locked by the cold, unable to utter a word.
Bai Lin lifted his eyes.
His gaze held no rage, no panic, no frenzy—just calm, like someone still calculating the next step.
This kind of cold was more truly dangerous than when he lost control.
"He… he's not an ordinary fugitive…"
One cultivator whispered, voice thin and sharp, squeezed from the depths of his chest.
Another forced composure and shouted: "Don't retreat! He's just gambling with his life! We…"
Before he could finish, Bai Lin's footsteps sank.
A sound as light as could be—tap—
Like a water drop landing in the night.
The next instant, all pursuers raised their weapons simultaneously, but Bai Lin was no longer in place.
Corpse veins vibrated silently in his flesh, carrying icy pulsations.
His figure blurred in an instant, as if erased from the spot by the wind.
Someone exclaimed: "He—!"
Sword light slid from the side—not a slash, but a graze—yet that cultivator's throat was slit open in a thin crack in a flash.
As he clutched his neck and fell, Bai Lin was already not in front of him.
—He wasn't berserk; he was picking vulnerabilities.
Those hearts just heated by blood were iced by fear again.
"He… he wasn't even using full strength…?"
"What kind of movement technique is this… corpse veins? How can anyone withstand that thing…"
The discussions were torn apart in an instant.
Bai Lin skimmed past a spiritual archer, arm sweeping horizontally.
The man didn't even have time to draw his bow; his shoulder blade dislocated entirely, bone twisted and snapped.
He muffled his scream with his hand, knowing that crying out wouldn't bring rescue.
More people retreated in fear.
But behind them was the mountain wall and mist.
Bai Lin looked over, condensing like a figure from the blood mist.
His hands were still stained with warm blood, dripping excruciatingly slow.
He panted, not from fatigue, but because the corpse veins clawed at his innards like beast talons.
—You can't stop, can you?
That vague "pulse sound" within him thudded deeply once more.
Thump.
Veins bulged on Bai Lin's forehead; he clenched his fist, as if forcing something back inside.
Must stay conscious.
Must remain "human."
Otherwise… he knew he'd become something more terrifying than the pursuers.
"You shouldn't be here."
His voice rang out for the first time in the encirclement.
It was calm, without fury or killing intent, more like stating a fact about to happen.
The lead pursuer finally steadied his courage and shouted in shock and rage:
"You think killing a few will get you out? We've already sealed the mountain range! You can't escape! Hold him off—!"
Bai Lin's eyes shifted slightly.
Yes, the mountain range was sealed.
So… he didn't need to hold back anymore.
His shoulders sank, as if pressing down some prohibition.
Corpse veins burst with icy aura in an instant, throbbing madly along his veins.
Fine black lines surfaced under his skin.
Flesh squeezed by the chill as if about to split.
In the next instant, he charged out.
Bang—!
Two cultivators blocking the front were almost simultaneously knocked flying; one was grabbed by the neck mid-air by Bai Lin and slammed—
Bone-cracking sounded like snapping dry branches.
The other didn't even have time to scream, kicked into the mountain wall, spine embedding into rock, silent upon falling.
Blood turned to mist in the cold wind's caress.
Bai Lin emerged from the blood mist, arms drenched in blood, nails faintly blackening.
Corpse veins climbed up his neck to half his face, as if to seize his features.
He used all his strength to suppress that twisting power.
—Stay conscious.
—Maintain human breathing.
He killed while battling his own body.
This was a hundred times harder than killing these pursuers.
From afar, someone shouted: "Back off! Let me handle it! He has backlash on him!"
A spiritual rune cultivator rushed forward, palm pressing the ground.
Ground runes lit up, over a dozen spiritual threads snaking out, coiling toward Bai Lin's limbs.
"Bind him!"
Everyone present thought Bai Lin would be locked.
But the next second, those threads wrapping his arms shattered like frozen and snapped, crumbling to powder.
The rune cultivator's pupils shrank: "You… you froze my spiritual energy… to death…?"
Bai Lin lowered his head, looking at the black patterns on his arm.
Those were traces of corpse veins eroding his flesh.
And also… the transformation he might not be able to hold back anymore.
"Don't force me anymore."
His voice was low, almost like wind crawling from underground.
Someone trembled in fear: "This… is this still human…?"
Bai Lin lifted his eyes.
The next instant, the forest was torn by blood light and splintered wood; his figure pierced the crowd like a rift.
Blood sprayed, swords clashed away, people thrown into the air and slammed down, the cold pulse sound overlapping with his heartbeat within.
Only three cultivators remained standing.
They dared not move.
Bai Lin walked to the foremost one.
The man's legs shook as if about to kneel.
Bai Lin raised his hand.
The man paled in fright, closing his eyes to await death.
But Bai Lin merely—
Placed his hand on the man's forehead.
"Go."
The cultivator froze entirely.
Bai Lin's voice was still cold, but cooled back to human boundaries.
"Leave. I don't want to kill you."
The three exchanged glances and fled into the forest at life-saving speed.
Bai Lin stood amid the corpses, breathing heavily, body trembling slightly.
Corpse veins tore at his innards, as if to rip him into another form.
His fingers shook from over-suppression, trembling even to clench a fist.
He lowered his head, looking at those bodies.
The first time consciously killing.
Not because of loss of control, not forced by corpse veins, but his own decision.
This weighed heavier than the blood.
His chest felt blocked by something, not quite pain, yet it froze him entirely.
In the distant mist, that black shadow… the black mist itself, like observing, like waiting.
Bai Lin lifted his head, looking at it.
The black mist neither retreated nor advanced, just trembled in place.
As if saying:
—You are drawing closer to us.
Bai Lin clenched his blood-soaked hand.
He didn't know if he'd done right.
But he knew one thing:
If he didn't kill, he'd die.
If he died… those settlement people, those without spiritual roots or power, would die too.
He didn't kill for them.
But he knew killing was the only way to live.
He turned, dragging his unnaturally heavy body, leaving this blood-soaked ground.
The corpse veins thudded heavily within.
Thump.
Like a heartbeat, and like death reminding him:
—The path you've stepped on has no return.