Weeks Later
A full moon cast ghostly rays over Qingmao Mountain, bathing the landscape in a pale, haunting glow. The night air felt still—too still. The usual hum of life, the sense of hidden activity that filled the mountain, had vanished, leaving behind an unsettling quiet. It was the kind of silence that seemed almost unnatural, suffocating in its intensity.
In the Gu Yue Clan square, a circle of candles burned with eerie steadiness, their flickering flames forming a massive, intricate pattern. Seven pentagons, twelve squares, and a web of unexplainable shapes interlocked within the circle, casting strange shadows across the ground. Three Rank 4 Gu Masters—Clan Leader Gu Yue Bo, Bai Clan Leader, and Xiong Clan Leader—stood at key points around the formation, their faces grim and focused.
At the center of the ritual space lay Bai Ning Bing, his eyes vacant and dull. Close by was Fang Shung, her expression set and unwavering, dressed in a black robe with obsidian bracelets encircling her wrists. This ritual would require more than mere technique—her flesh, her blood, and her chaos Dao marks would serve as the bridge for the Perfect Yang Clone Immortal Gu. With her Northern Dark Ice Soul Physique as the medium, the ritual would channel her Otherworldly Demon properties into Bai Ning Bing.
She raised her hand, fingers twisting into a precise gesture, then drew a blade across her palm, letting her blood spill into the circle. Instantly, a silent, blood-red gust of energy erupted outward, carrying with it the weight of her Dao marks, mingling with the air in dark, swirling currents. The symbols around her blazed to life, casting a crimson glow that danced in harmony with the pale light of the moon. Elders from the three clans sat around the circle, each positioned at their designated spot, faces expressionless, bodies still as if in a trance.
The merging light, half-moonlight, half-blood-red, settled across the ritual, deepening the sense of anticipation until it felt as if the mountain itself was holding its breath, waiting for something beyond comprehension to unfold.
---
Slowly, the ritual began to take its toll on the surrounding elders. Their bodies seemed to soften, their forms sagging and melding, until they collapsed into strange pools of viscous flesh and fragments of bone. A pungent, twisted scent filled the air as these distorted forms began to drift as if pulled by some dark force, toward the center of the circle where Fang Shung stood.
Fang Shung's body was weakening, blood loss leaving her pale and visibly strained. She knew her reserves were reaching a dangerous low, but there was no time to hesitate. With gritted teeth, she activated her Blood Moon Gu, a faint red glow surrounded her as she forced herself to reopen her wounds, ensuring the ritual would not falter.
In front of her, Bai Ning Bing's body began to respond to the infusion of her blood and chaotic Dao marks. His skin took on an unnatural sheen, his natural Dao Marks of Ice and Snow Path shining through with their usual crystalline blue, only now they had begun to twist, mixing with the chaotic energy she poured into him. Fang Shung watched as her chaotic essence worked its way into him, turning his once-pure ice aura into something dark and jagged, something neither ice nor chaos but a strange fusion of both.
The elder's remains seemed to dissolve further, becoming an eerie mist that enveloped Bai Ning Bing. They clung to him, sinking into his form, their essence reshaping him into something wholly different. Fang Shung could barely stand, her breathing ragged, every ounce of her chaotic energy straining to hold the ritual together. She felt her vision blur but forced herself to continue, driven by an unbreakable resolve. "It will be done," she whispered, as if reassuring herself. "My Yang Clone… I won't let this sacrifice be in vain."
As she neared her limit, the Perfect Yang Clone Immortal Gu glowed in her hands, flickering with a brittle light as it absorbed what was left of her strength, binding itself to Bai Ning Bing's body. She watched, mesmerized, as the Gu pulled from her, a last wave of power leaving her with barely enough to remain standing. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground as the Gu drifted toward Bai Ning Bing, settling over him with an ethereal glow.
The crimson ritual circle shimmered beneath her, the candlelight casting veins of blood-red across the ground, merging with the pulsing light of the Gu. It bathed Bai Ning Bing in a purifying radiance, refining his form as impurities burned away, merging until the figure that emerged was no longer recognizable to him.
When the light finally faded, what lay before her was the form of a young man, around sixteen years old, his face smooth and unfamiliar, a creation born of power, sacrifice, and Fang Shung's relentless will.
The man rose, unaffected by his bare form, his gaze like shards of blue ice-cold, yet intensely alive. His skin held an otherworldly glow, his white hair cascading over his shoulders like threads woven from moonlight itself. Though his build was delicate, there was a quiet strength within him, an intensity that spoke of purpose, self-possession, and the wisdom of something born from both power and pain.
He opened his mouth, his voice steady and resonant, as if calling forth words from a memory written into his very being:
"Born of blood and boundless night,
Shadows cast from borrowed light,
Yet in this dark, I claim my own,
A heart, a will, a soul alone."
He looked directly at Fang Shung, defiance and respect mingling in his gaze. "You gave me life, Fang Shung," he said, each word clear and precise. "Made me with your own blood, your flesh, your soul. But I am not a copy—nor a vessel of your will. I am… Yuanming." The name settled over him like an affirmation—Yuanming, the Clear Path, his name and purpose forged from the very essence of her sacrifice.
Fang Shung's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, a glint of pride brightening their depths. "So you've taken a name already," she said. "Yuanming. Fitting." She took a step forward, her tone even but edged with something raw, something that echoed the pain of creation. "But understand this. You are no simple creature, Yuanming. Your flesh, your soul, your blood—they are all woven from mine. It was not a gift given lightly. Do not forget what you are made of."
Yuanming's gaze softened, a rare understanding reflecting in his expression. "You gave me life, Fang Shung—life rooted in the very heart of what you are. I know what that costs, but I also know this: it does not bind me. Freedom isn't a thing to take; it is something to be. I carry your flesh, your blood, your soul, but I also carry my own will."
She held his gaze, her voice steady and yet threaded with a fierce pride. "So, the blood, the flesh, the soul we share—they do not bind us, but they do connect us." Her expression softened with a hint of trust. "I didn't make you to be a puppet, Yuanming. I made you stand as an equal. But remember, we are bound by what you are, and that makes us more than mere allies."
Yuanming considered her words, something complex stirring within him, and for a moment he seemed almost solemn. "Then let it be this," he said finally. "Our bond is real, forged from blood and soul. It is a strength, not a shackle. I will walk with you as an equal, but my choices, my path—they remain my own."
Fang Shung's expression softened, understanding dawning in her gaze. "Then we are bound, yet free. I created you from my flesh, my blood, my very soul—but that creation was a gift, not a cage. I trust you to honor it."
A quiet accord settled between them, an acceptance of the profound connection they shared—rooted in flesh and soul, yet leaving each spirit free. Yuanming's voice softened, carrying a rare warmth. "Then we are one and yet ourselves, Fang Shung. Bound by blood, but guided by our wills."
She nodded a quiet certainty in her expression. "Then let this bond guide us—not by control, but by choice and shared strength."
They stood in silent acknowledgment of one another, each aware of the profound, inescapable connection they shared. Together, they faced the open path before them, side by side—two souls tied by blood yet driven by their wills. The moonlight cast its shadows over the ritual circle, two distinct figures moving as one in spirit, each carrying the knowledge of a shared bond that was both strength and freedom.
[Auther Note: Do you think that he won't carry on the free demon legacy of Bai Ning Bing!? Of course not!]
[End Of Volume One:Unholy]
[Start Of Volume Two:Profane]