After Constantly Courting Death, I Became the White Moonlight - Chapter 38

Chen Lubai had lost her precious horse. She stood there weeping endlessly, tragic and melodramatic like Lin Daiyu mourning over fallen blossoms. If someone handed her a guqin, she might as well belt out a rendition of Elegy for a Fallen Steed on the spot.

Compared to her, He Zhizhou and Zheng Weiqi were much more composed—after all, they were cultivators. Maybe not at the level of being iron-skinned and bulletproof, but they were far more resilient than the average mortal.

Their dramatic fall from the horse earlier had left no serious injuries—well, except for He Zhizhou’s delicate, fragile heart, which had suffered a grievous blow.

Old Master Chen rushed over in a panic, clutching his chest like he’d lost half his wealth. His voice trembled with heartbreak as he cried, “We’re having a horse meat banquet tonight!”

Back at the guest room, Ning Ning returned with her two shell-shocked comrades in tow. Before she even stepped inside, she caught sight of Pei Ji’s shadow waiting silently.

“Senior Sister,” he greeted, calm as always, casting a quick glance over the trio before settling his gaze on Ning Ning. “I found a clue.”

Zheng Weiqi had just about recovered from the humiliation of that ridiculous narrator commentary earlier and perked up at once, eyes gleaming. “Still our reliable junior brother! Someone whose name starts with ‘He’ should really learn a thing or two from you!”

He Zhizhou, shameless as ever, ignored the jab and slid smoothly into the conversation. “What clue?”

Then he suddenly remembered something, face turning a little grim. “You don’t know what just happened, Pei-shidi. All the horses in the stable went crazy out of nowhere. Senior Sister and I barely managed to get things under control. I suspect… there’s a powerful demon hiding in the Chen estate. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have reacted so strongly.”

Ning Ning gave a faint smile. “Let’s talk inside.”

Back when they stood in front of Chen Yaoguang’s room, the group had already discussed their plan: wait until midnight when the demonic portal opened, then draw their swords and face the enemy head-on. A classic case of lying in wait.

But that had only been a superficial cover.

Sure, sword cultivators might be reckless, but most weren’t brain-dead.

They’d already established this tower level was extraordinarily dangerous. Charging ahead like frogs poked with sticks would only guarantee one thing—besides the horse meat banquet, they might as well fry their own heads to go with it.

No use keeping your brain if you weren’t going to use it.

He Zhizhou had jokingly dubbed Ning Ning “Justice Ning” through a secret voice transmission earlier, but she’d deliberately responded aloud.

Why?

Because chances were, the mastermind was eavesdropping. By keeping up the act, they lowered their guard, all while using secret transmission to relay the real plan to the others.

“What?” He Zhizhou blinked. “The mastermind’s watching us in secret?”

Zheng Weiqi stretched lazily and joined the secret channel. “Most likely Chen Lubai.”

Pei Ji nodded in agreement.

He Zhizhou: ???

Wait a damn minute—were they all secretly chatting without him this whole time?

This felt exactly like math class back in the day. Everyone started off on the same page, but by the time he blinked, he was suddenly the only one who didn’t understand anything.

“I’ve been wondering,” Ning Ning began, her voice calm, “if we truly couldn’t use spiritual sense inside the Pagoda Tower, then why bother with the scene where Zhao Yunluo was trapped in a nightmare? Wouldn’t that just make us watch her die helplessly?”

“That part made no sense narratively,” she continued. “It could’ve been left out entirely. But think—what if the problem doesn’t lie with the tower… but with Zhao Yunluo herself?”

The room fell silent.

“Imagine something that looks human in every way,” she said slowly, “that can move, laugh, speak… but has no spiritual presence. It’s obviously not some dead object like a table or chair. So there’s only one other possibility.”

Pei Ji, for once, spoke up before anyone else. “An illusion.”

At those words, He Zhizhou let out a hollow laugh. “But didn’t Ning Ning just say earlier that the issue isn’t the tower—?”

Then his voice cut off, eyes going wide.

He’d finally caught up.

What if… the illusions inside the Chen residence weren’t created by the Pagoda itself—but were instead a second illusion nested within the first?

Ning Ning’s voice was calm but steady. “The Pagoda nourishes spiritual energy and is immensely powerful. If it created the illusion, even the roles within it should possess fake divine sense to maintain immersion. But an ordinary demon… couldn’t possibly pull that off.”

She paused, then added seriously, “Do you all remember? When we first came back with Chen Lubai, as soon as we reached the gates, Old Master Chen called her away. His daughter-in-law was supposedly dying, and yet he still pulled aside his youngest daughter to chit-chat? That doesn’t make sense, no matter how you look at it.”

“And right after we excused ourselves, Chen Lubai just happened to visit her sister-in-law’s room? A little too convenient, don’t you think?”

Zheng Weiqi nodded in agreement. “She likely already knew that the fake Zhao Yunluo had no divine sense—and predicted we’d try to probe other people once we noticed. If she really is the illusion’s creator, her divine sense would betray her if we detected it. That’s why she had to avoid us before we could try.”

He Zhi Zhou let out a heavy “Oh!” like a sudden lightbulb went off. “So that’s why she left the room—to avoid exposure! Then came back once we were gone!”

Usually averse to brainwork, He Zhi Zhou was fully in curious-baby mode now. “But there’s something I still don’t get. If Chen Lubai was the one who created the illusion, then why use something as risky as a Night Terror to possess Zhao Yunluo? Wouldn’t using a different monster be safer?”

That question stumped Zheng Weiqi as well.

Right—if she wanted to cover her tracks, why bother setting up a situation that would so obviously reveal Zhao Yunluo’s lack of divine sense?

What was Chen Lubai playing at?

“It might have something to do with the difficulty of constructing illusions,” came an unexpected voice.

It was Pei Ji.

He rarely spoke unless necessary, but now he looked thoughtful. “I’ve read books that mentioned this. Creating illusions consumes immense spiritual energy—most demons can’t manage it. Especially not for a place as large as Goose City. To account for every detail would be nearly impossible.”

This quiet bookworm, top of the academy in every subject, effortlessly outclassed Zheng Weiqi and He Zhi Zhou in just a few sentences.

Ning Ning, who hadn’t heard of this before, looked at him with a flicker of curiosity.

Pei Ji continued, “In those cases, the most efficient way is to draw from memory—blending illusion with recollection. It cuts down the spiritual burden of creating each element from scratch. Which means everything we’re seeing now is likely pulled straight from Chen Lubai’s memory—real events that actually happened in Goose City.”

That meant everyone they’d met in the Chen residence—all of Goose City, really—were echoes of reality.

Chen Yaoguang being attacked by the painting demon, Zhao Yunluo possessed by the Night Terror, even Chen Yueming playing in the mud at the roadside… All of it had actually happened.

“Wait, wait—if everything we see is a memory,” He Zhi Zhou interrupted, eyes widening, “then the real Goose City right now—”

He paused, then suddenly smacked his palm to his forehead. “I get it! Remember when the demonic gate supposedly opened? What if something really happened to Goose City, and Chen Lubai created this illusion out of homesickness? A way to relive the past?”

It was, admittedly, the most convincing theory so far.

But Ning Ning still felt something was off.

“For instance,” she said slowly, “if this was all to reminisce… why trap us inside? What does she need us for? And more importantly—how does a perfectly ordinary young girl create an illusion this powerful?”

Pei Ji’s voice turned cold and flat, almost without emotion. “And if Chen Lubai really is the mastermind… why is this floor of the Pagoda considered ‘extremely difficult’? If killing one person could solve everything, would so many senior cultivators have struggled with it?”

He Zhi Zhou stared at him blankly.

Then, visibly moved, he whispered to Ning Ning, “Do you think Pei Ji’s real? He just said a lot of words all in one breath.”

Zheng Weiqi pressed her fingers to her temples, massaging them slowly. “Either way, there are still too many unanswered questions.”

“I suggest this—we split up. One of us investigates the hidden truth in Goose City while the others stay here in the Chen residence to keep Chen Lubai’s guard down. Whoever goes should be quiet, solitary, and unobtrusive—someone who won’t raise her suspicion if he’s not around. Any recommendations?”

He Zhi Zhou was silent for a beat.

Then he deadpanned, “Senior Sister, if you want to make Pei Ji do it, just say so. No need to come up with a whole paragraph of traits that perfectly match his personality.”

Time rewound to the present.

The commotion at the stables had passed without incident. Now, the four of them sat in Pei Ji’s room, listening to the results of his investigation.

“I’ve discovered three things in total.”

Pei Ji said calmly, “First, it appears there’s a boundary formation surrounding Goose City. After flying on my sword for a while, I hit an invisible wall—couldn’t go any farther.”

Ning Ning propped her chin on her palm, seated casually in her chair, eyes fixed on him.

“…Second.”

The black-robed young man lowered his long lashes without emotion, his throat bobbing slightly. “The townsfolk say something’s not quite right about Chen Lubai.”

Cheng Ying let out a weird, teasing chuckle. “We’re being serious here, and you’re blushing? Hehe. She looks at you, you look back—what’s there to be shy about?”

A flicker of irritation passed between Pei Ji’s brows, though his tone remained steady. “There’s a rumor that a servant once saw her wandering alone to the Chen manor’s back garden in the dead of night, talking to an old locust tree. What’s strange is—she clearly had her back to the servant, yet suddenly turned around and stared straight in his direction.”

It was the middle of the night, under a moonless sky with the wind howling.

Imagine seeing a little girl staggering into an overgrown garden, speaking to a gnarled tree—terrifying enough. But then she suddenly turns around and stares directly at you?

He Zhi Zhou felt a chill crawl up his spine. Beside him, Zheng Weiqi spoke up: “Locust trees are said to harbor spirits, easily growing into tree demons that seize human bodies for their own use.”

She hesitated for a moment, then added in a low voice, “What if the person we’ve been speaking to isn’t the real Chen Lubai—but a tree demon using her appearance? That would explain how an ordinary girl could construct such a complex illusion.”

“What the hell is going on with this manor?”

He Zhi Zhou gave an involuntary shiver, glancing around the room with no small amount of suspicion. “A painting demon, a nightmare fiend, now a tree spirit—what is this, the headquarters of the demon realm? And that whole ‘Demon Gate opening’ legend… if it’s real, can this city even be saved?”

It was a passing remark, but Zheng Weiqi suddenly slammed her hand on the table with a loud bang.

“Do you remember?” she exclaimed. “I mentioned before—I thought I’d heard the name ‘Goose City’ somewhere!”

He Zhi Zhou was so startled he nearly leapt into Pei Ji’s arms, making Cheng Ying wail like a damsel wronged.

“I remember now! Goose City!”

Zheng Weiqi’s voice was trembling with excitement as she nearly jumped to her feet. “Back during the great war between immortals and demons, a group of demonic cultivators invaded a small county, slaughtering everyone to extract their blood essence. Not a single soul survived—and that county was called Goose City!”

Pei Ji and Ning Ning exchanged a glance, understanding dawning on their faces.

“So,” He Zhi Zhou murmured, face pale as a sheet, “the so-called ‘Demon Gate opening on the fifth of the sixth month’… it might not be a made-up legend. It could’ve been…”

He drew in a deep breath. “On that day, Goose City was overrun by demon cultivators. And everyone inside…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Because if they were harvesting blood essence, then not a soul could have survived.

The misty riverside, the white walls and black-tiled rooftops, the elegant pavilions of the Chen Manor, the children playing with mud in the alleyways…

None of it remained. All had been replaced by ruthless demons and countless corpses with their eyes wide open in death. A city drowned in endless bloodshed and despair.

This illusion was formed from past memories—but the moment they entered, everything had deviated from history.

No one had ever escaped from the hands of demon cultivators. Every seemingly “narrow escape” they experienced was, in truth, nothing more than a reenactment of inevitable death.

Chen Yaoguang was never saved. He was bound deep in a cold, dark cave by the painting demon, his blood essence and life force slowly drained, his final breath spent in terror and pain.

Zhao Yunluo never escaped the nightmare fiend. She was forced to relive her death again and again in her dreams, until her spirit shattered and she never woke again.

Chen Lubai was lured by the locust demon in the back garden. Her mind grew hazy, her soul scattered, and in the end, all that was left was a hollow shell—her body stolen, her life taken.

As for the rest of Goose City… all perished in that bloody onslaught, turned into nourishment for the demons’ cultivation.

The fog surrounding the mystery was beginning to clear.

Only one question remained.

—Whether she was the real Chen Lubai or the tree demon in disguise, why did she trap them here?
What was her true goal?

=====

Their plan was already nearing completion.

Chen Lubai pressed the brush heavily onto the paper, ink blooming like darkness itself across the rice sheet.

A faint smile curled her lips. She folded the paper into an envelope, then turned and quietly left the room.

The wind within the illusion was nothing like the breeze outside. Though it was cool and refreshing, it filled her with a deep, visceral loathing. But this little play wouldn’t last much longer. Once the hour of the Rat arrived—

At the thought, a trace of vicious malice flickered across the fair-skinned girl’s face.

She moved quickly, using the deepening dusk to mask her presence, heading straight for the rear courtyard.

The courtyard was overgrown with dense flora and lush trees, but right at its heart stood an ancient Chinese scholar tree, its bark dark and gnarled with age.

The Chinese scholar tree was a yin-attributed plant. Though it was clearly summertime, the air around it remained piercingly cold.

Its thick branches and tightly packed leaves blocked most of the fading light, casting Chen Lubai’s face in eerie shadow. This time, she didn’t speak to the tree as the rumors claimed. Instead, she pressed her palm to the bark and silently chanted an incantation.

Astonishingly, the bark responded as if it had received a command—splitting open down the middle in a clean, vertical line. The crack widened, revealing not the interior of a tree, but a space eerily similar to the very courtyard she was standing in.

Without a sound, Chen Lubai lifted her hand and pushed the sealed letter into the crevice. She never expected a gust of frigid wind to suddenly strike from behind.

—Someone was there!

She had no time to react, no chance to dodge. The letter was snatched clean from her hand.

“My, Miss Chen. Such refined taste—you’re the first I’ve seen writing love letters to a tree,” Ning Ning’s voice rang out with a teasing lilt as she deftly leapt back a few paces, envelope in hand. “Why don’t we all have a look and see what’s inside?”

Chen Lubai glared at her, jaw clenched tight with fury but said nothing.

“‘The four remain unaware. Once the Soul Refining Formation activates at midnight, use their blood as sacrifice,’” Ning Ning read aloud. Then she turned to the courtyard entrance. “Senior Sister, what exactly is a Soul Refining Formation?”

“It is a forbidden formation. After collecting thousands of souls over the course of a full year, a ritual blood sacrifice is used to trigger it. When complete, it grants a cultivator immense power—allowing them to soar to new heights,” Zheng Weiqi stepped out slowly from the shadows of the bamboo grove, dressed in pure white like a streak of moonlight across the night. “It’s one of the Ten Forbidden Arts, reserved only for the most depraved and evil cultivators.”

Knowing she was no match for a sword cultivator, Chen Lubai took a step back, cold laughter on her lips. Despite her identity being exposed, she didn’t look flustered in the slightest. Her voice was calm as she asked, “Where did I slip up?”

A true professional, even as a villain.

“My little junior brother came across an interesting tale. Perhaps Miss Chen would like to hear it?” Ning Ning’s tone was polite, almost playful. “Everyone in Goose City says the eldest miss of the Chen family is spoiled and willful, always dreaming of escaping to the outside world to live freely—yet I distinctly recall you telling me something else.”

“You knew her personality, but not her story. The real Chen Lubai, perhaps, did want to travel the world… yet still felt some lingering attachment to her family. One night, she might’ve sought you out in secret to express that reluctance before leaving. But you mistook her parting sentiment for a declaration that she would never leave the Chen estate.”

Ning Ning’s hand dropped to the hilt of her sword in a defensive stance, just in case the other side lashed out. “So… should we call you Miss Chen? Or perhaps—Tree Demon?”

A long silence fell.

The Chinese scholar tree rustled in the wind with a sound like a thousand ghosts whispering from the shadows. It was chilling, eerie to the extreme.

The demon occupying Chen Lubai’s body finally dropped the act. With a sharp burst of laughter, she threw her head back and cackled, “And so what? You think just because you broke through my illusion, you can leave Goose City unscathed? Once the Soul Refining Formation activates at midnight, every demon in this city will be after your blood! Let’s see where you can run!”

As the laughter faded, her tone suddenly shifted—tinged with genuine disappointment. “Those other demonic cultivators wanted to break your bones and leave you dying beside the formation. Only I was kind enough to craft this illusion. I wanted you to die painlessly, peacefully. Can’t you understand how kind I’ve been?”

And oddly enough… she wasn’t lying.

The events at Goose City had spread through the entire cultivation world. The righteous sects were too entangled in war to exterminate all the demons within the city. But to prevent those creatures from escaping, elders from every major sect had joined forces to lay down a massive Sky Net Formation, sealing the entire city.

The only way to escape… was to grow powerful enough to shatter the formation. And to do that, one needed the Soul Refining Formation—which required living human sacrifices. Ever since Goose City had fallen, not a single soul dared enter.

Until now.

After almost a year… four ignorant juniors had stumbled right into the trap.

This was their best chance.

If they resorted to brute force, and happened upon someone with a resolute and loyal heart who chose to end their own life, all their efforts would be for nothing. It was the locust tree spirit who had suggested crafting an illusion—so long as the targets were trapped inside a dreamscape, they’d lose the will to flee and remain lost in the delusion.

“Enough talk.”

Just the thought of being played so thoroughly by a bunch of lowly demons sent a wave of fury surging through Zheng Weiqi. Her sword was unsheathed in a flash, its tip aimed straight at the ancient locust tree radiating a sinister aura at her side.

That tree wasn’t just the true body of the locust ghost—it was also the channel through which it communicated with the outside world, and more than likely the very core of the illusion array.

Blades of sword light split and shimmered like frost in the air, each arc sharp and frigid.

Zheng Weiqi had expected the locust ghost to fight back in a final, desperate struggle. Instead, it merely curled its lips and let out a mocking snort.

Then, like some stage trick, its figure melted into the darkness, leaving behind only a chilling voice riding the wind:

“You’d best prepare yourselves—there’s more than one being outside this illusion who wants you dead.”

===

Zheng Weiqi’s sword gleamed like starlight.

Ning Ning jolted awake from her slumber, the first thing she noticed being the overwhelming stench of blood and rot.

The air reeked of congealed blood and festering flesh, so thick and foul it made her instinctively hold her breath. She forced herself to focus on her surroundings.

To her surprise, she was still in the Chen residence’s back courtyard—but the scene now was completely different from the illusion.

The old locust tree had grown to an ungodly size. Its roots and branches sprawled across the entire yard like some grotesque, breathing organism. Thick, sinuous tendrils slithered along the ground, reaching all the way to the courtyard gate—and still multiplying.

The most horrifying part was how those roots seemed alive, pulsing beneath a dark, bark-like skin. In the murky light, they looked more like enormous snakes writhing in the dark, sending waves of nausea through her.

The roots had coiled around her body like ropes, pinning her tightly to the tree trunk. Only her face, neck, and a small portion of her chest remained exposed—she couldn’t move an inch.

When she finally managed to lift her eyes, she saw the real Chen residence.

The sky was torn open by streaks of crimson light. Endless darkness swallowed everything. A wisp of cotton-like cloud veiled the moon, filtering its light into a blood-red hue—more like tears of blood trickling from the heavens, soaked in murderous intent.

A blood moon hung above. Ghostly fires flickered on the horizon.

The rest of the courtyard trees had long since been drained of their essence by the ancient locust. What remained were withered trunks, twisted and claw-like, like the hands of vengeful spirits.

Suddenly, a gust of demonic wind swept past, rustling her long black hair. As her blurred vision settled, Ning Ning caught sight of a skeleton curled in the corner.

Weeds choked the ground. The courtyard walls were chipped and worn. Bloodstains spattered the surrounding buildings, casting long shadows over the pale bones. Moss crept along the skeleton’s joints, staining them a dull gray-blue.

It was a small skeleton—clearly a child.

The remains were curled into a ball, tiny hands still clutching its skull as if trying to block out unbearable pain.

Deep cracks ran along the bones, etched so deeply they must have been born from torturous suffering.

Ning Ning’s heart sank. She could guess who it had been.

The clouds above shifted west, blotting out the last glimmer of light. Ning Ning drew in a breath and gathered her strength at her fingertips.

Her sword light flashed like lightning, piercing through the tangled vines in an instant. Blood sprayed from the severed tendrils without warning, bursting forth as if from severed veins.

A crazed, manic laughter echoed in the distance, accompanied by roaring flames that lit up the night sky.

Closer by, the air reeked of blood, and bones loomed everywhere.

Midnight was approaching.

“One trap after another. My brain’s already fried, and now my hands can’t get a moment’s rest either.”

Zheng Weiqi landed beside her, leaping from the writhing vines. She allowed herself a rare, bitter smile.

“This level… don’t tell me we have to wipe out every single demon in this entire cursed city?”