Chapter 120: Password (3)
120 – Password (3)
Lin Xun couldn’t quite articulate what he was feeling, but he knew that something had already surpassed all expectations.
At this moment, he simply thought, that person doesn’t smoke.
At least, he had never smoked in front of him.
That faint spark of light bloomed in the darkness, like a rose on a black canvas. As it drew closer, the dim glow illuminated that face.
Lin Xun watched the person with his head lowered, saw him slowly bring the slender cigarette to his lips, taking only a shallow puff before setting it down, as if tasting a sip of wine. The cigarette burned on its own, and he just stood there—a lonely silhouette, as though he had lost something, yet the long hair cascading over his shoulders softened his overly sharp and severe demeanor. The entire scene resembled a black-and-white film from the 1960s, accompanied by a lazy, melancholic, yet frenzied soundtrack. This underground space felt like a dimension severed from the real world.
Lin Xun’s breath hitched abruptly. As if sensing something, the person turned to look in his direction.
In the blink of an eye, Lin Xun crushed the talisman in his hand! The next moment, he saw the edges of his body begin to blur—according to the descriptions of his seniors, this should be the effect of “Vanishing Trace.”
The person’s gaze swept over the area where Lin Xun was hiding, showing no fluctuation. It seemed he hadn’t been discovered. This action undoubtedly allowed Lin Xun to see his features more clearly.
If someone looked like Dong Jun, had the build of Dong Jun, and carried the expression of Dong Jun, then he was Dong Jun—no matter how inconceivable the environment he stood in or how bizarre his actions were.
Seemingly finding nothing, Lin Xun watched as Dong Jun withdrew his gaze and looked directly at the demon realm rift ahead.
The rift had been slowly expanding, like a pitch-black eye gradually opening. Under Dong Jun’s indifferent glance, thick mist surged upward, enveloping him. The sharp screeching sounds turned low and deep, as if an indescribable monster were locking eyes with him. Yet Dong Jun’s expression remained unchanged. He slowly raised his head, leaning his entire body against the wall, and pressed the cigarette butt out with the pad of his right thumb. Thousands of fiery embers fell like shooting stars, quickly dimming. With an almost imperceptible sound, the entire cigarette dropped to the ground. Then came the rustle of fabric as he crossed his arms, gazing ahead with an aloof posture, and spoke.
“He has a match today.”
Five words, brief, in a tone Lin Xun was unfamiliar with—cold as ice, yet not entirely devoid of emotion or commanding in a detached way. Lin Xun couldn’t grasp the meaning behind them.
Yes, he had a match today.
When he first saw the rift, he had thought, it’s over, another fierce battle, no chance of making the match.
Then, the rift’s expansion suddenly paused.
Only silence filled the air—one second, two seconds—even the sound of a heartbeat seemed to stop.
The rift remained still. If it had life or consciousness, perhaps it had entered some kind of stalemate with Dong Jun. Lin Xun didn’t know.
From the dark corner came an extremely faint, cold chuckle. Then, footsteps sounded as Dong Jun stepped forward, walking toward the rift. He pressed his fingers against one end of the rift on the grayish-white wall. His fingers were slender and pale, covering the tip of the rift before sliding along the wall toward one end of the room.
Lin Xun’s eyes widened.
He saw that where Dong Jun’s fingers had brushed against the wall, the cracks seemed to be squeezed by a tremendous force, slowly closing. As Dong Jun walked from one end of the room to the other, the massive fissures vanished from the wall as if zipped shut.
The black Qi still lingered, drifting through the room. But the next moment, Dong Jun turned slightly and cast a faint glance, and they scattered like smoke rising into the sky. Dong Jun remained expressionless. By then, he had reached the other side of the underground space—a sprawling area filled with exits. Lin Xun watched his black-clad figure turn and disappear into the crisscrossing lines of gray-black steel structures.
Lin Xun counted the time. Three minutes later, certain that the one who should leave had gone far enough, he turned on his flashlight and approached the corner. On the concrete floor lay half of a slender cigarette, black with silver-stamped patterns. It seemed he could still catch a faint, lingering scent—like withered rose petals. He felt he had smelled it somewhere before but couldn’t recall.
Lin Xun picked it up and held it in his hand. It was real, not a dream or an illusion. Leaning against the wall, he suddenly felt as if all his strength had been drained. He slid down along the wall, eventually curling up with his knees to his chest against the cold surface. After a long while, he patted his cheeks with his icy fingers.
No, now was not the time for wild thoughts. He felt he still didn’t know enough, and many clues seemed contradictory. Holding the cigarette, he gazed in the direction Dong Jun had left, suddenly wondering: Would it hurt to extinguish a cigarette with one’s fingers?
It wasn’t until ten minutes later that he finally pulled himself together and left the place, climbing up the emergency staircase.
A flurry of hurried footsteps echoed from above. In the emergency passage, several seniors were rushing down, arriving belatedly like a computer’s antivirus software, just in time to run into Lin Xun.
Xiaoyaozi was observing the Zhou Tian Star Formation, puzzled. “Just moments ago, demonic Qi was surging. How did it suddenly vanish?”
Yufeng Zhenren also asked, “Lin Suan, didn’t you say you had already seen the crack? What happened? Why are you coming up now?”
In an instant, everyone’s eyes turned to Lin Xun.
The seniors occupied the higher ground on the stairs, while Lin Xun stood below, already at a disadvantage in position. Thus, his lie came out with a hint of guilt: “I saw the crack had just opened when… I encountered some kind of… resistance.”
“Yes, something was blocking the crack, and then it was pushed back,” Lin Xun added.
Xiaoyaozi scrutinized him carefully. “What exactly happened? What kind of resistance? Did you use your Spiritual Power to investigate?”
Knowing that saying more would only lead to mistakes, Lin Xun replied, “My Spiritual Power is too weak. I didn’t see anything.”
Xiaoyaozi stroked his beard, seemingly deep in thought. Old Man Huo, meanwhile, shot him a sharp glare. Lin Xun lowered his head and obediently scurried up the stairs to stand behind his master.
Then, Xiaoyaozi said, “Perhaps the human realm’s barrier overcame the demonic rift. I did say the barrier has been reinforced recently, and traces of demons have gradually diminished. Very well, I’ll investigate more carefully. Brother Qingshan, please take the younger disciples back for now.”
Old Man Huo led the younger disciples back, with Lin Xun among them. As soon as they were away from Xiaoyaozi, Lin Xun heard Old Man Huo ask, “What else did you see? Why are you hiding your true cultivation level?”
“I don’t want to cause trouble.” Lin Xun lowered his head submissively. “And I didn’t see anything else.”
Old Man Huo snorted softly.
Lin Xun: “Master.”
Old Man Huo: “Hmm?”
Lin Xun asked: “If there are Emperors in the mortal realm, then… does the demon realm also have things like Demon Lords or Demon Emperors?”
Old Man Huo said: “Perhaps, but there are no records of such.”
Lin Xun continued: “What if there really are?”
Old Man Huo lifted his eyelids slightly: “Have you seen one?”
Lin Xun didn’t answer.
Then he heard Old Man Huo continue: “If there really are, then naturally, to catch the thieves, first catch their leader.”
A young disciple chimed in: “Azure Peak True Lord speaks wisely.”
Lin Xun: “But they have Demon Lords, while we have no Emperor.”
Just then, Old Man Huo halted his steps, suddenly turning to look at him, his gaze sharp as he scrutinized him from head to toe again: “Are you really unable to draw the Chixiao Longque Sword?”
Lin Xun: “Really.”
He had tried drawing the Chixiao Longque Sword at least three or four times, and not once had he faked it—there was no performance element involved.
“But every time large numbers of demonic creatures appear, you’re always there. When demon realm rifts open, often before the Zhou Tian Star Formation even reacts, you’re already in danger and calling for help. Even the first time demonic creatures appeared in this world, it was right beside you. Why is that?” Old Man Huo’s brows furrowed tightly, his tone growing increasingly serious. “Could it be that you are…”
Lin Xun’s heart rose to his throat. He thought to himself, Master, please don’t be like this. Suspecting I’m the Emperor is one thing, but suspecting I’m a Demon Lord is completely unreasonable.
—Then he heard Old Man Huo’s voice suddenly rise sharply: “Could it be that you are the once-in-a-millennium jinx?”
Several disciples nearby snickered.
Lin Xun: “…”
Fine, he’d accept it.
“If I’ve taken you, this little jinx, as my disciple, then haven’t I also done something unlucky, becoming an old jinx myself?” Old Man Huo seemed to have glimpsed a great truth, stomping his foot with a heavy sigh.
As Lin Xun helped his master upstairs, he spoke again: “Master.”
Old Man Huo: “Hmm?”
Lin Xun: “What exactly is the mortal realm barrier? Who can reinforce it? The Emperor?”
Old Man Huo said: “The mortal realm barrier is the protective Qi between heaven and earth. We cannot control it. Aside from natural fluctuations, I’m afraid only the Emperor can command it.”
Lin Xun: “Master.”
Old Man Huo grew impatient: “Asking this and that, what exactly is on your mind?”
Lin Xun didn’t even know what he wanted to ask himself. Just as he was organizing his words, his phone rang like a death knell—Wang Anquan.
He answered.
“Where have you run off to?” Wang Anquan shouted from the other end.
Lin Xun: “Isn’t there still twenty minutes?”
“The team before us had a mental breakdown! They ran off with their own artificial idiocy!” Wang Anquan said. “If you don’t get here soon, we’ll have to let Jia Gou take the stage!”
Lin Xun rushed toward the elevator, taking two steps at a time: “What broke down? Bugs? Help them debug it.”
“What are you talking about?” Wang Anquan roared. “I’m in the audience right now. Let me tell you, all the team introductions we saw before were just playing dumb—this year it’s completely a battle of gods, with all kinds of black tech. I’m warning you, if you mess this up, I…”
The elevator chimed as it arrived. Lin Xun quickly stepped inside, pressed the button, and the doors slowly closed. The silver-white elevator car, like a black box of modern technology as it had been for the past decade, dutifully blocked all signals. After a distorted burst of static, Wang Anquan’s voice cut out. Lin Xun simply hung up the call, pulled up his PowerPoint, and began his final review—though he already had it memorized backward and forward. Thirty seconds later, the signal improved slightly, switching back to 5G. A message from Dong Jun appeared on WeChat, perfectly ordinary.
When you’re about to compete and your boyfriend sends a “Good luck ^^,” nothing could be more normal.
—If only he hadn’t casually sealed a demonic rift earlier, as effortlessly as zipping up a jacket.
Lin Xun wanted to reply with a “mwah,” but in the end, he didn’t. Expressionless, he switched back to his PowerPoint. After all, in this world, besides men, there was also the Goddess of the Luo River.
Right now, he was an emotionless PowerPoint recitation machine.