Figure what out? Yung wanted to scream. He wanted to rage, grab Nanya by the shoulders, and demand an answer. Any answer. Why did it turn out like this?!

But he couldn’t. His feet didn’t move. His stealth was gone. The moment he went out, he was dead. The headless corpses of Youjin Chun and Elder Gangkai were still in full view as a testament to that fact, trampled on by the cultists as though they were roadside waste.

Ziyou Ling lay a few steps away. No breath, her body still leaking blood and grime like a rotten fruit with stab holes. It was as if her guts were still being digested, even though she was long gone.

Yung threw up. His heart constricted so tightly he felt he was having a cardiac arrest. He was only able to remain standing because he had instinctively grasped a stalagmite by the side.

“Kyu. Kyueue?” Silky flew to his eye level and patted his nose. For strange reasons, he seemed not to care about the deaths. Were the denizens of this world really so unfeeling?

Yung wanted to reply, but he felt a rush of gas rising from his throat and keeled over again, gagging out all the food and drinks he had taken that morning. Such a waste of Su Yafeng’s cooking.

Such a waste of life!

The splattering sound rang out as if echoing through the whole cavern.

But nobody could hear him. Nanya was very careful in whatever technique she used to send Yung to this place. It was nicely hidden but had a panoramic view of all the carnage.

“Dead. All dead. W-Why did I—Is it my fault?” Yung asked. He dearly wished someone could answer him, “Nanya said it was going to be dangerous. She said they could die. She—Did she bring me here just to die?”

No, she didn’t. Isn’t that why she sent him away just when his stealth was about to run out? She didn’t bring him to die. But she definitely brought the others for that very purpose! To prove something to Yung. But what? Was she really that cruel, or was Yung just too stupid to see through her benign disguise?

Even now, his supposed caring girlfriend fought with reckless abandon. She was like a demi-human beastwoman. If this was on earth, Yung would have wasted no time making fun of her as a furry, then cringed at himself for loving her.

“Love?” Yung felt cold. A sinister shiver rose up his spine as his skeleton itself seemed to tremble in fear and fury inside his flesh. “Who?” He felt like he could no longer recognize Nanya.

He knew absolutely nothing about his girlfriend, other than her heartbreak.

But bad people could be dumped, too, right?

Yung had automatically equated her to be a victim because her fiancé had cheated on her. He had put her on a pedestal, for she had suffered. And only the weak could suffer, right? Only those with a frail and honest heart were fit enough to be wronged upon.

Yung wanted to slap himself. He was a fool!

Not all powerful people were evil, and not all weak were good. He had read entire books on the halo effect and still was dumb enough to fall for it.

Nanya, the most powerful princess in the realm. The most desired, the most spoilt. Whatever she wanted, she would have.

So for her, what were the lives of some mere village bumpkins in the middle of nowhere? She admitted it herself. Yung had to open his eyes to the cruelty of this world. Get stronger to earn her clan’s approval. Train his willpower to withstand the tribulations of breaking through.

No matter what the cost.

Even if that cost was borne by others.

“She loves me,” Yung couldn’t bear to distrust his Empathic abilities. Moira was too kind to deceive him.

Even now, Nanya’s Empathic Link radiated fondness too feverish to be anything but a passionate obsession.

Was obsession love?

And what did her feelings towards Yung have to do with the Youjin Clan and the Free Sparrow Gang?

Nothing.

Again. She said it herself. She wouldn’t lift a paw.

Yung stood up from his crouching position. His eyes were so bloodshot, as if he had not blinked in years. Even with his bronze skin in the dark cavern, the red around his nostrils was visible.

He punched the stalagmite hard. But he wasn’t a body cultivator. His hands hurt.

Because he was weak.

And conceited.

And foolish to believe that implicit agreements would mean something!

Implicit promises meant nothing. Words had to be said aloud to mean anything.

Wasn’t it he who said to Nanya throughout their many long talks under the blanket at night that unless words were communicated with explicit directness, they meant nothing?

How easy it was to misunderstand one’s character. Because they were beautiful? Because they loved to banter?

“Was I really that blind?” Yung started to doubt. He doubted his trust in his girlfriend, but also his own better judgment.

“I was the one who brought them here,” he said to himself like a puppet, even as the carnage down below continued. “Why did I? What gave me the confidence to think that just because I’ve led a safe life until now, I will be safe forever?”

As a result, Ling, Chun, Elder Gangkai, and Ziyou Maque were dead.

Why did he keep blaming Su Nanya for their demise? Had she not clearly told him before entering the cave that the world wasn’t such a kind place? That he needed to be stronger to protect what was his?

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But no, Yung was conceited. Did he think he was some kind of protagonist, for whom everything would work out in the end?

In a hero's journey, the hero might not lose his life. But who can claim to suffer more than they?

Every event was meant to push the hero to the limits. The author’s creed was to make them suffer. Their anguish was the readers’ enjoyment.

Yung was important people. He was a transmigrator. If this world acted like a book, with Chao as one of the primary protagonists, then for Yung’s own story, did he not have to feel pain more terrible than Chao even to compare?

Yet it was Chun and Ling who died. How dare Yung think that their deaths were merely meant to be inciting incidents for him to open his eyes! How ashamed he was for even considering that it was Nanya herself who orchestrated their death to make Yung realize the true essence of this world.

His first instinct was to blame others for every bad thing that happened, rather than his own naivety, and he hated that about himself.

As Yung was lost in his thoughts of self-hatred and fear, feeling ashamed for putting all the blame for every wrong that happened today on Nanya, the fight below kept raging on.

Not all Youjin were dead, and one last Free Sparrow Gang member was still alive. Perhaps it was because some pressure had been lifted off their shoulders since Su Nanya directly joined the fray, but it seemed like they were doing a better job at defensive fighting.

Youjin Yetu and Youjin Tiantian worked hand in hand, creating a smaller version of Dim Gold Severance 9th Form. The swirling sphere of dim gold silk was more constricted now, and looked thicker. It did not have much trouble fending off the attacks of Imperfect Heaven 1st Realmer cultists.

Youjin Tenghou was still alive, his katana-like sword seizing every chance to find the neck of the next cultist in line. Behind him was the final remaining Youjin clanskin, Youjin Linbi. Her hands also moved rapidly into various mudras as dim gold projectiles left her vicinity in strange arcs, hitting the Foxmoth Voidfiends trying to encircle their formation.

She seemed to be a long-range fighter. The remaining Free Sparrow Gang Member, a middle-aged woman, took to defending Youjin Linbi from attacks from the rear, as though the new defensive formation created by Youjin Yetu and Tiantian were not enough to cover every blind spot. The madlander woman hit the ground with her staff, causing curtains of the earth to rise up and interrupt the Foxmoth Voidfiends or cultists that got too close. The foe was then swiftly taken care of by either Tenghou’s quick strike or Linbi’s projectile.

A fine party, two focused on attack and three on defence. It was amazing how well they could work together despite the situation.

“They won’t last,” Yung came to the horrid conclusion. They did not have infinite qi. Already, Yung could see the obvious fatigue reflected on the five remaining survivors' faces—the fear, unwillingness, defiance, and acceptance.

He wanted to take out his crossbow, to charge up a pink heart beam to come to their defence.

But for what?

It would still take a while for the cooldown of his Empathic Isolation ability to end. Until now, no enemy had noticed his position. But the moment he joined the fray, cultists and fiends far stronger than he would no doubt pounce on him like starving lions.

Was it worth it, to risk his life futilely for the survivors? If he couldn’t bring himself to do so, then what right did he have to blame Nanya?

This was a cruel world. Yung hated himself for not being the hero who could sacrifice everything to at least try and save people. People who would not have been allowed to join their delve if not for his own selfish insistence.

Did he not want them to lay down their lives to protect his? Was that not what they were doing right now?

Yung’s fist clenched around the stalagmite so hard the sharp edges cut into his palm. But he didn’t feel any pain.

“Linbi!” Youjin Tenghou’s mournful shout rang out. At this point, Yung couldn’t even bear to look.

The defensive formation was broken.

The cultists weren’t idiots, even though they did not care for their lives.

While appearing as if they were going to attack Su Nanya from behind, the vixen embroiled in a destructive fight with Youjin Fuqiang and a few other stronger cultists; they created a trap and sprung it the moment the madlander cultivator showed an opening.

Was it a subconscious decision? The Youjin and Madlander formation had been slowly inching towards Su Nanya. Were they seeking protection, or did they think they would have the greatest chance of survival being near her vicinity even though she did not deem them worthy of helping?

The trap was a simple pitfall covered up by thin silk from the foxmoth voidfiends, further camouflaged by dust and rock. The moment the madlander cultivator misstepped, she fell into the hole. What was inside weren’t pikes or spears pointing up, but a flock of foxmoth voidfiends. The woman's pained scream echoed from inside, accompanied by the chittering sound of mandibles on bone.

Youjin Linbi reacted fast, trying to save the cultivator with her projectile Spiritual Arts.

But a dagger suddenly appeared three inches away from her eyes. The madlander woman had been doing a good job at keeping these invisible assassins away, using the tremors from the ground to sense them. But with her out of the picture, the dagger found its mark.

It pierced straight into her skull. Youjin Linbi gasped, then tried to say something, but her body fell limp.

Youjin Tenghou lost his cool. He roared like a wounded beast and separated from Youjin Tiantian and Youjin Yetu.

His sabre-light cut the assassin in half. He reached out to grab Linbi’s falling body.

But the foxmoth voidfiend flock flew out of the hole covered in blood, having had a satisfying meal. They spotted Tenghou and attacked with abandon. Some blew themselves up like kamikaze voidfiends, while others aimed for Tenghou’s eyes, ears, and mouth.

But the Imperfect Heaven 2nd Realmer continued to kill them, each strike felling many.

Youjin Yetu and Youjin Tiantian joined him, re-establishing the formation. The hopelessness on their faces was clear as day.

“Dim Gold Severance 7th Form!”

A whirlwind of razor-sharp silk flew out of the crafting elder’s position. It whirled with sounds cutting the air, meeting the foxmoth voidfiend flock like a meat grinder.

The foxmoth voidfiends died, their limbs and wings flying off in different directions. But they weren’t the only enemy.

Cultists, both visible and invisible, followed up with their swords, spears, knives, and arrows. With Youjin Linbi dead in his arms, Tenghou roared.

He slashed, sliced, cut, and ripped. As his Spirit qi depleted, he used his True qi. His dao shards churned out aspected attacks of the Dim Gold Severance that split apart his foes the moment his blade-light touched them.

But there were too many cultists. Too many to kill, too few to defend.

By the time a lucky sideways chop from one cultist’s axe had beheaded his furious face, Youjin Yetu and Youjin Tiantian had long been dead.

The cooldown timer for Yung’s Empathic Isolation ended. He went into stealth. As the world took a dimmer saturation, he felt his blood go cool. It was a strange feeling, to be disconnected from the world in such a way that reminded him how alien he was. He was a mere soul from another universe. What right did he have to intervene in the fate of this one?

Yung thought hard while chanting his long unused mantra.

“Om in, om out.”

He could join the fight, firing his own weapons in some vain hope to help Nanya.

Or he could run.

Because despite the victorious certainty radiating from his girlfriend’s Empathic Link, she currently had half her body singed in toxic purple flames and the other half ground up like red-pasted turmeric.

Through her cracked shell of a seductive form, Yung could see an Occultic Foxball at the location of her navel palace dantian, and the smug grin in Youjin Fuqiang’s eyes.

Help this cruel vixen, or run, leaving her to her fate?

… Why did she say that she wouldn’t hate me even if I ran away? If she is going to die, how could she hate me in death? The dead felt no emotions; it was the living who suffered.

Yung took a final look at the corpses of his various allies scattered throughout the cavern.

There was no third option. No other way out.

Yung tried to harden his heart, creating an illusion that he was a cold and unfeeling being.

“Arf!”

“Kyu.”

His companions called out to him.

He could only give them a pained look. He had made his choice.

“I’m sorry,” Yung said as he looked at Silky and Floofy. His decision was going to make them hate him. They should hate him. But, as dictated by the cruel world, there was no third way out, and Yung wanted to live.

With despair in his heart and hidden away from the world with his esoteric powers, Yung took a quiet step away.