In a very large hall that exuded an overwhelming spiritual energy, a woman sat gazing at the jade gate at the entrance. The hall was spacious enough to accommodate an army of a thousand and expertly constructed to captivate the attention of anyone who beheld it.
From the jade gate to the far end of the hall, it was filled with ancient antiques, various ceramics, paintings, carpets, and, of course, artistic verses. The pathway from the jade gate to the golden throne was lined with two rows of white jade columns, all aligned neatly.
When the jade gate opened and a man in a black cloak walked in, the woman, who had covered her face with a delicate fabric, rose to her feet. She had a sculpted figure, and her garments were made from the finest silk available in the world. Her attire was neither completely revealing nor tightly fitted; even beyond the white garment, her feminine allure was unmistakable, and the intoxicating scent of her gray hair overwhelmed anyone nearby. Atop her head rested a crystal tiara adorned with several thin chains. On her forehead, a moon-shaped gem glimmered, held in place by these very chains.
"Greetings, King of Darkness!"
The woman slightly bowed her head. As she spoke, she dared not meet the gaze of the one before her. This man was one of the seven kings residing in paradise.
The King of Darkness replied, "There is no need for such formalities, Matriarch."
The Matriarch of the supreme Moon Sect respectfully said, "Master, I do not dare address myself with such titles in the face of your greatness. Please call me Elder Mina."
"Very well, as you wish…"
The Matriarch then asked, "Your Excellency, is there a specific reason for your presence atop our modest peak?"
The King of Darkness stroked his chin: "Perhaps, perhaps not… I enjoy traveling. The supreme Moon Sect may just be one of my countless destinations, or there may be a reason for my presence here, whether by chance or not. Time will reveal all that we need to know…"
The Matriarch smiled behind her veil and gestured toward one of the small doors in the hall, saying, "Very well, Your Excellency, may I invite you for some tea?"
"Hahaha, tea! That sounds delightful. When it comes to drinking tea, no one can match elder Mina…"
Then both moved toward the balcony of the Moon Lady's palace.
Miles away from the supreme Moon Sect, a train hissed as it cut through the lush green forest, heading east.
In one of the cabins, Fang Yuan, still masked, sat alone. It was a nearly six-hour journey from the Mist Sect to the first train station and the civilized region. Of course, this time frame applied only to Fang Yuan and the other cultivators.
The treacherous mountainous path and the untouched dense forest were home to many demonic creatures and poisonous insects. Therefore, if an unfamiliar person entered that forest, they could never hope to dream of escaping it.
Yet for Fang Yuan, this six-hour journey took only four. He swiftly followed the path to the first train station with long, quick strides, without any need for rest or concern for insects or creatures.
The train station was not particularly crowded, and people from all walks of life were present. Fang Yuan showed the Mist Sect insignia to the attendant and announced that he was embarking on a mission. After confirming the authenticity of his badge, the attendant graciously escorted Fang Yuan to the first-class carriage.
Cultivators were highly respected among the people, even the elders were revered like gods. So, the honorary outer disciple insignia, which Fang Yuan possessed, ensured that no one searched him or asked him to remove his mask.
After a few minutes, the train departed quickly toward the next station. Its speed didn't match that of spiritual tools, but it was several times faster than that of an ordinary cultivator.
The mountains and forest swiftly passed by outside the train window. The train let out a loud whistle to announce its presence. Inside the carriage was warm and comfortable. There was not a hint of shaking, a marvel of engineering that combined modernity with tradition.
Shortly after, the train crossed a large bridge spanning a vast lake. The sunlight reflected on the lake's surface, creating a golden line.
In the middle of the lake sat a small island where several monks were engaged in meditation. Even though the train let out its loud whistles multiple times, it made no difference to them; they didn't budge an inch. Somewhere on the other side of the island, out of sight of the train, a flock of birds took flight after the sound of the whistle echoed.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly. The train continued on its path.
Fang Yuan removed his mask and leaned back in his seat, letting out a sigh of relief and closing his eyes.
Life was like a river: sometimes roaring, sometimes calming. People were like boaters navigating across it, often without being skilled rowers or knowing their course. In truth, life was a difficult and uneven learning journey in itself, much like roaming through a boundless desert in search of water.
Bai Mo had discovered this hidden truth of life years ago; life had a significant weakness. No one taught people how to live.
How should one live? What is good? What should one do? Where should one go? No one knew. In a world where the good turned bad and the bad turned worse, whose hand should one take?
Suddenly, a loud sound thundered across the plain as the train came to an immediate halt. A sharp screech erupted from beneath the train, followed by a cloud of black smoke visible from the window.
"Attack!!! We are under attack!!! Bandits!!!"
The forest bandits had blown up the bridge to stop the train, and now they crawled up from the bridge like darting insects. The train's security forces immediately sprang into action to confront them.
Suddenly, a smoke bomb shattered the window of Fang Yuan's cabin, enveloping the room in thick black smoke. A bandit leaped through the window, drawing his blade and preparing to strike.
Simultaneously, dozens of other smoke bombs were hurled into other cabins, casting the train into chaos.
"Take cover!!!!"
"NO!!!"
The cries of the people rang out, filled with pure terror.
The gleam of swords reflected the sunlight, stained with blood.
Another bandit scaling the bridge saw the broken window with black smoke billowing out. He grinned and jumped into the cabin through it. He saw nothing but darkness, with no sounds of breathing. Gradually, the noise from the adjacent cabins began to fade.
He raised his sword and moved cautiously through the thick smoke. Suddenly, his eyes landed on the cabin wall, and a chill ran through him. He felt an instinctive wave of nausea boil up inside. He wanted to scream, but everything suddenly felt disorienting.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
He couldn't tell when it happened, but before he knew it, he found himself crumpled on the ground. His eyes grew heavy, and his head rolled like a ball on the floor.
In his final moments, he saw a masked man whose clothes were drenched in blood. He appeared like a grim reaper, surrounded by an ominous aura. When he turned toward him, he noticed a streak of blood across the mask, resembling a bolt of lightning.
Fang Yuan hurled the headless corpse, which still stood upright, out from the train. Then he seized the head, splitting open its skull.
When he removed his mask, he resembled a crazed demon. The breadth of his smile and his gaze were steeped in madness.
Moments later, he stepped out of the cabin and donned his mask again, attempting to conceal his devilish grin as he moved toward the other passengers and the bandits.
His instincts screamed at him. Every fiber of his being burned with excitement.
In his path, he slaughtered the passengers and bandits in the most horrific ways imaginable, consuming their brains. An unexpected feast had begun—one that Fang Yuan had not anticipated—and it seemed he could now easily quench his thirst for ideas.