The image blurred, but the entire view filled with an eerie grayness that enveloped the majestic Kunlun mountain range.

What should have been a breathtaking vista was instead a hellish scene - Kunlun appeared to be burning, yet the flames licking across the landscape were an unnatural black hue.

The once pristine mountain peaks were coated in a sinister black snow, and a downpour of obsidian rain pounded the earth relentlessly.

Ji Wuye's eyes widened as he witnessed the Kunlun disciples, clad in their white martial robes, scrambling to contain the unearthly conflagration.

Their movements were frantic, yet deeply unsettling - for their eye sockets were hollow voids of blackness, and their skin had taken on a sickly, poisoned hue that clashed hauntingly with their pure white garments.

Suddenly, as one, the disciples froze in their tracks and slowly turned to face Ji Wuye, their empty gazes boring into him.

"How?! How did Xiangliu appear here?!" one disciple cried, panic and disbelief twisting his features.

"Why?!" another echoed, anguish ringing in the simple question.

Before Ji Wuye could react, an earth-shattering rumble shook the mountain as the colossal black scales of Xiangliu, the nine-headed serpent, burst forth.

The massive beast coiled its way up the peak, crushing and obliterating everything in its path as it fixed its smoldering gazes directly on Ji Wuye.

...

Ji Wuye awoke with a violent start, eyes flying open as his body tensed. "Ha!" he gasped, chest heaving with ragged breaths. Disoriented, his vision swam as he blinked rapidly, trying to force the haunting images from his mind.

As his surroundings gradually came into focus, he realized he was in a small, sparsely furnished room - a simple bamboo-framed bed, a solitary wooden shelf, and a plain round table.

Pale light filtered through the gaps in the bamboo-tiled ceiling, casting warm stripes across the modest furnishings.

On the table sat a wooden cup alongside a bowl containing a few plump dumplings and strips of dried meat.

"A dream..." Only then did the reality dawn on him - it had been merely a harrowing dream, and he now found himself inside an unfamiliar dwelling.

His white martial robe was tattered and stained from the recent battles in the dungeon.

As he raised a hand to massage his throbbing temples, the muffled sounds of activity from beyond the walls reached his ears.

Only then did Ji Wuye's memories start filtering back. "Senior Sister..." he mumbled, recalling the faint tone of her voice and blurred silhouette before exhaustion had claimed him.

"Ha..." A low sigh escaped his mouth as he prepared to explain his recent actions and braced himself for her inevitable reaction.

But his reverie was short-lived, his focus abruptly shifting as flashes of the disturbing dream resurfaced.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

'Xiangliu...' Ji Wuye shook his head. 'Perhaps I'm still dwelling on that intense battle...'

But then...

A pronounced grumbling from his neglected stomach decisively cut short his introspection.

...

After polishing off the humble fare - savoring each plump morsel and washing it down with the herb-infused water from the wooden cup - Ji Wuye settled into a cross-legged meditation pose.

Closing his eyes, he focused his breathing and opened his meridians to the flow of natural Qi.

The ambient energy trickled inward, circulating through his body before pooling in his three dantians.

'This... is just too much to swallow...' A deep crease furrowed Ji Wuye's brow as he assessed the alarmingly depleted state of his Qi reserves.

...

Gradually, the vibrant hues of dusk seeped through the cracks in the bamboo canopy, bathing the modest dwelling in a warm golden radiance.

The last slanting rays of the setting sun painted the quaint village nestled between the cliffs in a breathtaking amber glow.

The tranquil scene was shattered by the harsh grinding creak of the wooden door as Ji Wuye emerged, greeted by a flurry of grim activity. Somber processions carried bodies tightly wrapped in thin white shrouds to an open cremation ground near the village entrance - a solemn clearing beside a glimmering lake, well away from the homes and structures.

The corpses were methodically stacked amidst towering piles of logs, awaiting the purifying flames.

Nearby, despondent villagers - some openly wracked with grief - looked on, bracing themselves for the harrowing spectacle.

Ji Wuye's gaze was immediately drawn to two familiar figures among the mourners: his Senior Sister, with her back facing him, and the coachman with his limbs heavily bandaged.

Then, Ji Wuye's gaze shifted towards the area where the Dungeon entrance had previously marred the landscape - only to find the ground smooth and unremarkable.

The hefty stone ruins were nowhere to be seen, and the serpentine tree trunk now appeared to be nothing more than ordinary gnarled branches.

He could only stare silently at the nondescript scene before reluctantly tearing his eyes away and approaching his Senior Sister.

"How are your injuries?" she inquired flatly, her back still facing him as her raven tresses cascaded in an immaculate braid down the back of her pristine white martial robe.

Despite the cordial inquiry, her tone remained aloof and unconcerned.

"Thank you for asking, Senior Sister. It's fine, not that bad," Ji Wuye responded, pausing a deferential couple of chi behind her and studying her rigid posture.

Turning, he spotted the coachman seated forlornly among the grieving villagers.

"Uncle," Ji Wuye called out in greeting, prompting the man to raise his head and regard Ji Wuye with an awkward half-smile. The coachman sat hunched on a small log, his arms and legs heavily bandaged, and respectfully cupped his hands in return.

"Good afternoon, Hero. Please forgive my impulsiveness," the coachman offered, his eyes downcast in a show of remorse.

The impulsiveness he referred to was obvious in his action: suddenly charging to save the villagers and going berserk.

Ji Wuye nodded in understanding, accepting the apology graciously. Around them, the other villagers turned to face Ji Wuye, their solemn expressions awash with a combination of sorrow and profound gratitude as they, too, bowed their heads in deference.

"We are about to begin," the gruff voice of the village chief, Xu Ma, suddenly rang out as he strode towards them, passing Ji Wuye.

A quick inhalation preceded an unexpected burst of flame erupting from Xu Ma's mouth.

"Flame of Fire!" he bellowed, the scorching torrent arcing through the air to ignite the towering wooden pyres.

Instinctively, Ji Wuye and his Senior Sister recoiled, putting distance between themselves and the intense blaze.

Ji Wuye's crimson eyes remained transfixed on the grisly scene, reflecting the swirling ashes and macabre embers carried aloft on the hot winds.

All around them, the villagers' mournful cries rose in pitch, their anguished wails now mingling with the ravenous crackling of the fires.

"Junior, do you have anything to say in your defense?" his Senior Sister's voice suddenly cut through the din, temporarily overshadowing the visceral backdrop.

Her tone remained dispassionately even as Ji Wuye's crimson gaze continued to track the ephemeral ashen shadows dancing amidst the flames.

"You have slaughtered all the goblins according to Mister Ma and other witnesses," Ji Wuye's Senior Sister stated, her previously measured tone rapidly descending into an icy rebuke. "You cleared this new existence of a 'Dungeon' on your own, without knowing it would be dangerous for both you and the village."

"Not only that, but—" She made to continue, but Ji Wuye suddenly raised a hand, interrupting her stern dressing-down.

"—Senior Sister," he interjected, his heavy-lidded gaze squinting against the flickering flames as Xu Ma's short gray hair danced in the scorching currents. "What do you think about that fire?" He extended an arm, pointing towards the billowing inferno still spewing forth from the village chief's mouth.

Without giving her a chance to respond, Ji Wuye pressed on, his voice adopting a sonorous, reverent cadence. "Mister Xu's flame acts as a transformation, purifying the soul and helping it transcend this mortal realm."

Ji Wuye's crimson eyes remained transfixed on the haunting scene as the smoldering ashes swirled skyward, the fragile remains whisked away on the hot winds while the corpses continued their inexorable immolation.

He could feel the weight of his Senior Sister's intense, questioning stare boring into him as he pressed on with his solemn pontifications.

"Back then, when Kunlun was a Taoism sect, do you know what happened to their spirits, Senior Sister?" Ji Wuye's gaze remained locked on the dancing flames, his features bathed in their flickering radiance.

"Some say the spirits are guided by Daode Tianzun, one of the Three Pure Ones. Others believe in psychopomps like Zhong Kui, who protect and guide worthy souls."

Once again, Ji Wuye's esoteric musings overrode any attempt by his Senior Sister to interject.

But...

At that inopportune moment, the soft cadence of approaching footsteps heralded the arrival of someone.

"I'm sorry, Senior Sister..." The voice was very familiar and belonged to none other than Song Jia.

She still wore her tattered white martial arts robe, the torn fabric crudely patched in places to preserve her modesty.