Chapter 2 The Old Ancestor of the Void – Both Soft and Hard

Shu Tiantian only remembered lifting her head and seeing a pair of golden-red eyes.  

These eyes bore no resemblance to those a human should possess.  

Golden pupils were supposed to be the divine amber of deities, yet these golden irises, tainted by the reflection of blood, carried a decadent allure—like fresh blood splattered across a sacred statue.  

The pale youth exuded a sickly yet eerie beauty, his golden-red eyes paired with lips of an unnaturally vivid crimson.  

Drip after drip, blood seemed to endlessly flow from his ankles. Shu Tiantian could tell it was his blood because as each drop hit the ground, it sizzled and bloomed into fiery scarlet flowers.  

Though entirely inappropriate, just being near this person made the bone-chilling cold from her Heavenly Yin Constitution recede, easing the shivers that had wracked her body.  

So much so that even in the grip of overwhelming terror, Shu Tiantian mustered a desperate will to survive. Before the man could shatter the bed with a single strike, she stretched out her hand.  

As a healer, her instincts kicked in, reflexively diagnosing his condition:  

This man was injured—severely. His soul was damaged, his meridians shattered.  

Summoning every ounce of courage, Shu Tiantian spoke. The pale youth followed her gaze to his own dripping blood.  

His thin, beautiful lips curled slightly—only for the sound of rushing wind to cut through the air behind him. It was Yuan Jingzhi’s desperate attack!  

Without even turning his head, the youth twisted his hand with a crisp *crack*. The Nascent Soul Old Ancestor Yuan Jingzhi let out a bloodcurdling scream.  

Originally, the flare-up of her Heavenly Yin Constitution had left Shu Tiantian’s rationality hanging by a thread—like someone frozen to the bone suddenly stepping into a warm home, instinctively drawn to the comfort of a blazing hearth. But now, the scream jolted her back to reality, her blood running cold.  

Though she didn’t see what happened, the sickening *crunch* likely meant the Heretical Cultivator Old Ancestor’s last-ditch attack had ended with his neck being snapped.  

The youth tilted his head slightly, then extended his other clean, slender hand toward Shu Tiantian.  

Tian’er: “……”  

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.  

The pale youth’s fingers twitched impatiently before reaching under the bed—then lifting her up with one hand.  

Shu Tiantian: “……”  

She fainted from sheer terror.  

As if sensing her distress, the hand paused, then adjusted its grip—from scruffing her like a kitten to hoisting her by the waist instead.  

Just before losing consciousness, Shu Tiantian thought she heard a dying heretic’s final, horrified shriek:  

“It’s… it’s Old Ancestor Xu Yuan!”  

The pale youth’s footsteps halted. In an instant, the temple—along with the heretic—turned to ashes.  

“Too noisy.”  

In the modern world, Shu Tiantian wouldn’t have believed someone could kill just for being too loud. But in the novel *The Master Treats Me as a Substitute*, there was indeed a man who slaughtered people for that very reason.  

And the most unreasonable part? His hearing was unnaturally sharp. Any sound exceeding a certain decibel within a thousand-mile radius would summon him to that location—where he’d proceed to kill at random.  

As Shu Tiantian drifted in and out of consciousness, the original novel’s plot spun through her mind like a revolving lantern.

In the novel *The Master Treats Me as a Substitute*, even Yuan Jingzhi—who murdered the white moonlight junior sister—couldn’t be considered a true villain. He managed to redeem himself later and even became one of the extreme admirers of the female lead, Ling Ruoshui. This alone speaks volumes about how twisted the story’s moral compass was.  

Yet, within such a novel, there was one character who stood out as a genuine, dyed-in-the-wool villain.  

He loved killing at random—whether the weather was gloomy or sunny, he would slaughter without hesitation. On certain specific days, he demanded absolute silence. If the noise level within a thousand-mile radius exceeded a certain threshold, he would kill without mercy.  

Fortunately, at the beginning of the story, this great villain only went on his rampages within the Abyss of Emptiness. Later, he lost interest in killing and shifted his hobby to destroying the world.  

The cultivation world called him *Old Ancestor Xu Yuan*, though very few knew his real name.  

While cultivators above the Nascent Soul stage were generally addressed as “Old Ancestor”—such as Yuan Jingzhi, the late-stage Nascent Soul expert who kidnapped Shu Tiantian—the title *Old Ancestor Xu Yuan* was different.  

If others were honorifics, then *Old Ancestor Xu Yuan* was a literal translation—the Father of the Abyss.  

Five thousand years ago, the major sects joined forces to suppress this demonic figure. Yet, no one expected that the place where he was sealed would give birth to black mist, stretching for thousands of miles and blotting out the sky. Here, Heretical Cultivators thrived, and Ghost Cultivators roamed in countless numbers, turning the land into a living hell.  

Later, it became known as the Abyss of Emptiness.  

Unfortunately, this novel had no demonic realm to speak of. If one had to make a comparison, the Abyss of Emptiness was even more sinister than a demonic realm.  

The Celestial Mystery Sect, where the Red Cloud Immortal Lord resided, was established near the Abyss of Emptiness to guard the cultivation world—both as a defense and a means to suppress the evil within.  

It was said that those who entered this place would never return, doomed to perish without hope of survival.  

The reason Yuan Jingzhi chose that abandoned temple was precisely because the Red Cloud Immortal Lord’s divine sense could not reach the Abyss of Emptiness.  

The Abyss had markets, villages, and even an infamous auction house. But unlike the outside world, it was overrun with Heretical Cultivators and countless mutated demonic beasts.  

The closer one got to the center of the Abyss, the higher the danger level.  

And of course, the Father of the Abyss resided at the mountain peak in the very heart of the Abyss.  

Here, sin festered, and desire blotted out the heavens, turning it into a depraved and malevolent land.  

Because of the Father of the Abyss’s presence, an unspoken rule existed in this cursed land—on nights when the full moon hung high, no sound was permitted. Even if you were an Old Ancestor at the Transformation Stage or a Heaven Rank demonic beast, you had to abide by this rule.  

But since Old Ancestor Xu Yuan had vanished for many years, this rule had begun to loosen.  

People like Yuan Jingzhi were precisely the kind of reckless opportunists who knowingly broke the law.  

Shu Tiantian was certain that the original junior sister in the novel hadn’t triggered this setting, because Yuan Jingzhi remained alive well into the middle of the story. When the Red Cloud Immortal Lord learned the truth and sought to kill Yuan Jingzhi to avenge the junior sister, Ling Ruoshui even knelt and begged for mercy.  

The most suffocating part? The female lead’s plea actually worked.  

The Revered Master didn’t kill Yuan Jingzhi—he merely crippled his cultivation.  

What happened to the white moonlight? What about the lifelong regret? Shu Tiantian could only feel a pang of frustration.  

But in her sleep, Shu Tiantian suddenly remembered something and jolted awake in terror—  

She remembered very clearly that later in the story, after Yuan Jingzhi had his meridians destroyed by the Red Cloud Immortal Lord, he simply turned to Ghost Cultivation instead.

So here’s the question—just now, Old Ancestor Xu Yuan had simply and effortlessly snapped Yuan Jingzhi’s neck with a crisp crack…

Yuan Jingzhi was a man who never forgot a slight, and this time, it was Shu Tiantian who had drawn Old Ancestor Xu Yuan’s attention! Shu Tiantian could almost see Yuan Jingzhi grinning ferociously as he reached out his sinister claws toward her.

Her eyes flew open—

The precarious thatched hut, the worn-out windows and furniture—if not for the faint black mist obscuring the sky outside, Shu Tiantian might have thought she had transmigrated again.

This signature black mist—it was the Abyss of Emptiness.

Sweat drenched her as she sat up in bed, feeling as though she had narrowly escaped death. Old Ancestor Xu Yuan hadn’t killed her. She had survived.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Shu Tiantian’s ears perked up in alarm as she clutched her medicine chest tightly. Before she could react, a still-charming middle-aged woman pushed the door open.

The woman carried some items in her hands and placed them on the table beside her, smiling as she spoke in an extremely hushed voice, “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

Shu Tiantian didn’t dare let her guard down, subtly stepping back.

The woman didn’t mind her wariness at all and continued smiling as she introduced herself. Her voice remained low, likely afraid of being overheard, and she even closed the window for good measure.

Only then did Shu Tiantian understand why she had been spared—because she was a Medical Cultivator.

By sheer coincidence, she had actually stumbled upon the right keyword.

The place where Shu Tiantian now found herself was already very close to the heart of the Abyss of Emptiness.

The Abyss of Emptiness was divided into three cities, each governed by an Integration Stage Heretical Cultivator. Where there were people, there were conflicts—even the Abyss had its own families and sects, though the majority were rogue cultivators, all bowing to the authority of the three cities.

Yet beyond these three cities, there was a place that stood apart from the Abyss—the Black Valley.

The black mist of the Abyss blotted out the sky, growing denser the closer one got to the central peak. By the time it reached this valley, it was so thick it plunged everything into darkness—hence the name Black Valley.

Every year, countless Medical Cultivators were captured and brought to the Black Valley as offerings to that great demonic ancestor. After all, given the harsh conditions of the Abyss, precious Medical Cultivators were exceedingly rare.

Shu Tiantian figured they were probably captured to treat Old Ancestor Xu Yuan’s ailments. His damaged soul and shattered meridians were clearly long-standing afflictions, so rounding up a bunch of Medical Cultivators made perfect sense.

Except… Shu Tiantian hadn’t been delivered here by someone else—she had been hauled in by Old Ancestor Xu Yuan himself. But it seemed this woman didn’t know that.

The woman suddenly asked with a smile, “I heard that outside the Abyss, a Nascent Soul Stage Heretical Cultivator captured a Cauldron today—also a Medical Cultivator, just like you. Do you know her?”

Shu Tiantian’s heart skipped a beat.

The greed in the woman’s eyes was almost palpable, but when her gaze landed on something, it was as if she had been pricked by a needle. Her face instantly paled.

Following the woman’s line of sight, Shu Tiantian looked down at her own hand—clutching a fiercely burning Scarlet Flame Flower.

Shu Tiantian quickly made an excuse about wanting to look around outside. Before the woman could react, she grabbed her medicine chest and hurried out the door.

The Black Valley lived up to its name—so dark that one could only see a few meters ahead. People walked in small groups along the paths, and there were even a few vendors set up, though the crowd was sparse and eerily silent, as if no one dared make a sound.

Clutching the Scarlet Flame Flower, Shu Tiantian walked swiftly onward.

Just moments ago, Shu Tiantian suddenly realized a problem—

If Medical Cultivators were as rare as phoenix feathers in the Abyss of Emptiness, then most of the so-called “Medical Cultivators” in this village must actually be Heretical Cultivators.

The Abyss of Emptiness was a realm filled with slaughter and bloodlust, where evil was amplified. The law of Heretical Cultivators was survival of the fittest. So, could these “Medical Cultivators” possibly coexist peacefully?

In that case, Shu Tiantian, who was only at the Qi Refining Stage, would undoubtedly be at the very bottom of the food chain. And to make matters worse, she was essentially a walking piece of “Tang Monk meat”…

Shu Tiantian knew all too well that the only reason she was still safe was the Scarlet Flame Flower burning fiercely in her arms.

But this flower was about to go out.

Shu Tiantian walked faster and faster.

Even without turning around, she could feel countless malicious gazes and coveting eyes piercing into her back.

The village settlement in the Abyss of Emptiness was shrouded in an eternal black mist. Yet not far away, a towering mountain peak rose into the clouds like a pillar holding up the sky, standing out starkly in the valley terrain of the Abyss.

Shu Tiantian quickened her pace toward that direction.

The wind caused the flame of the Scarlet Flame Flower to flicker precariously. Then, just as Shu Tiantian stepped out of the village—it went out!

Clutching her medicine box, Shu Tiantian broke into a sprint—

Help me!!!

But Shu Tiantian was only a small Medical Cultivator at the Qi Refining Stage. Though her medical skills were divine, all she knew was the Light Body Technique.

Seeing the tide of black-robed Heretical Cultivators surging toward her, Shu Tiantian spotted a low cliff ahead. Without hesitation, she hugged her medicine box and rolled off.

Unsurprisingly, Shu Tiantian tumbled head over heels, rolling five, six, seven, eight times before finally stopping. When she coughed and looked back, for some reason, none of the Heretical Cultivators had followed her.

Panting heavily, Shu Tiantian sat up—only to see an entire valley of Scarlet Flame Flowers stretching to the horizon, beautiful as a sea of fire, dyeing the sky red.

Ah, with these flowers here, those Heretical Cultivators wouldn’t dare approach.

Despite the eerie scene, Shu Tiantian finally let out a sigh of relief and collapsed completely into the field of Scarlet Flame Flowers.

The Heretical Cultivators stopped at the edge of the settlement, silently communicating through divine sense.

“Huh? Didn’t she burn to death? Why is she sitting up?”

“Hiss… she’s lying back down. Must be the corpse twitching as it roasts. She’ll die eventually—no one can survive there.”

“Such a shame… such a fine Cauldron…”

Their fragmented whispers dissipated into the air atop the cliff, and the tide of Heretical Cultivators gradually receded.

Thus, no one noticed when the “roasted” Shu Tiantian finally caught her breath, stood back up, and walked deeper into the endless expanse of Scarlet Flame Flowers.

If nothing unexpected happened, this would be her temporary refuge.

She still needed to find a way to send a message to that damned Revered Master. Even though going back meant stepping into a melodramatic, hypocritical soap opera, it was still far more comfortable than this horror show in the Abyss of Emptiness.

But as Shu Tiantian walked, she suddenly noticed something odd about the ground beneath her…

Soft, yet firm.