The screech that pierced the silence of the cave was unlike anything Fang and his companions had ever heard. It wasn’t just a sound, it was a primal, visceral terror given form, a wail that reached into the darkest corners of their minds and twisted their souls with fear. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t disorienting, but it was the embodiment of pure nightmare. The kind of sound that clawed its way into the deepest recesses of the mind and refused to leave.
The two girls, Hua and Hani, were rendered speechless, their mouths agape as they struggled to process the horrific noise. Fang, though equally terrified, managed to maintain a semblance of control, even if only barely.
“F*ck,” he muttered, the only word he could force out as he frantically retrieved a short axe and a lantern powered by spiritual energy from his storage ring.
“Don’t lose focus,” he managed to say through gritted teeth, his voice trembling despite his efforts to remain calm. “It’s just trying to scare us.”
Hua and Hani, still reeling from the shock, slowly drew their weapons and shakily lit their own lanterns.
“O-o-ok, Brother Fang,” Hua stammered, moving close to Fang, her fear driving her almost to cling to him.
“I’ll cover our back,” Hani said, positioning herself behind them, her voice a poor mask for the fear that was evident in her trembling hands.
Fang lit his lantern, hoping the light would banish the darkness and with it, some of their fear. What it revealed, however, was far worse than the darkness.
The ground they had thought was muddy was, in fact, not mud at all. It was the mashed remains of countless cultivators, their bodies torn apart and strewn across the ground like a gruesome, fleshy carpet. The realization hit Fang like a hammer, and he nearly dropped the lantern in shock.
“Close your eyes!” he shouted at the two girls, his voice cracking. He couldn’t afford to let them see this—not if he wanted them to stay sane. Hua, who had been staring at his back, was spared the sight, but Hani had been looking up at the ceiling and missed the horror on the ground.
Fang, fighting the urge to collapse, quickly redirected the lantern’s light upward, towards the ceiling. What he saw there nearly broke him.
Corpses. Thousands of corpses, prostrating on the ceiling, as if in worship. Some were rotting, others looked disturbingly fresh, almost as if they were still alive. Their bodies stretched as far as the eye could see, all bowing toward the far end of the cave, where the darkness seemed to pulse with malevolent intent.
“By the heavens,” Fang whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the mere act of speaking any louder would draw the attention of whatever lay ahead. The words carried the weight of a man who had just seen the depths of despair.
He extinguished his lantern, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. How could they, Ethereal Core cultivators, beings of such power, be reduced to this? Trembling in fear like children at the thought of facing a monster. The fear was not just in his mind—it was gnawing at his very soul, consuming him from within.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“No lanterns... New plan,” Fang said, his voice hollow. “We have no exit, so we only have two options.”
The two girls looked at him, their faces pale, their hope hanging by a thread. Fang had always been strong, always had a plan, but now he was just as terrified as they were.
“Either we kill this thing, or it kills us,” Fang said, gripping his axe tightly, holding it close to his chest as if it could somehow protect him from the inevitable.
Disappointment flickered in the girls’ eyes—there was no secret technique, no hidden escape route, just a grim acknowledgment of their situation.
“Let’s hold hands so we don’t lose each other in the dark,” Hani suggested, her voice shaking.
Fang nodded, taking Hua’s hand in his own, while his other hand clutched the axe. Hua held Hani’s hand behind her, and they began to move forward, their steps slow and hesitant.
A sudden gust of wind blew past them, chilling them to the bone.
“Are you okay, Hua? Hani?” Fang asked, looking back into the pitch-black darkness. He couldn’t see anything—not even the hands he was holding.
“I’m fine,” Hua replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m also okay,” Hani’s voice echoed, though there was a tremor in her tone that betrayed her fear.
Fang sighed in relief, but the dread lingered. The darkness felt alive, pressing in on them from all sides. Every sound, every shift in the air felt like a harbinger of doom.
“I feel like we’re going to die here, and it’s your fault. We should have never come here,” Hua said, her voice losing its emotion, becoming strangely monotone.
“Are you okay, Hua? Don’t talk like that. Trust me—tell her, Hani,” Fang urged, his own voice wavering as he tried to hold on to his sanity. He was the only one left with any resolve; if he collapsed, they were all as good as dead.
But there was no response from Hani. Silence stretched out, suffocating, filling Fang with a sense of dread so profound it felt like it was clawing at his heart.
Goosebumps prickled across Fang’s skin. “Why isn’t she replying? Aren’t you holding her hand?”
Hua tugged on the hand she was holding, and the reality of their situation hit her like a physical blow.
“Senior brother,” Hua’s voice was eerily calm, devoid of the fear that had gripped her earlier. “I have her hand here, but that’s all I have.”
Fang’s blood ran cold. Something had torn Hani from her own hand without making a sound, without creating any force strong enough for him to notice. His mind reeled at the implications—this wasn’t a creature they could fight. It was something beyond their understanding, something that toyed with them as a cat would with a mouse.
“It’s speaking to me,” Hua continued, her voice distant, as if she were lost in some internal nightmare. “I don’t know what it’s saying, but I know what it’s saying. I think it said a word, but I can’t remember. It sounds like a letter, but I forget it. I wonder if it’ll repeat itself, but I forget...”
Fang felt a sense of doom settle over him like a shroud. From the moment they entered this cave, their fate had been sealed. This was no ordinary demon, no spirit beast—this was something far more sinister, something that defied the very laws of reality.
He slowly lit the lantern again, though his hands were shaking uncontrollably. The light revealed Hua, standing there with wide, unblinking eyes, her hands pulling at her own hair. Blood streamed down her face from her eyes, which were fixed on something behind Fang.
Slowly, almost unwillingly, Fang turned his gaze upward. The corpses that had been bowing toward the end of the tunnel were now all bowing toward him.
At that moment, Fang understood something profound, something terrible. Death was not the passionate fight that might kill you. It wasn’t a funeral, it wasn’t fear. Death wasn’t even the act of losing your life.
No. True death was what stood behind him, a presence so overwhelming that it stripped away all illusions of strength, all hope of survival. True death was the void, the nothingness that consumed everything.
And it was right behind him.