The Zither in the Moonlit Tower, Part 2

The Nightmare Beast, an ancient creature, once dwelled in the Tianhan Abyss of the Two Realms Mountain in the far north of the immortal domain.
Due to millennia of conflict between the immortal and demon realms, the mountain became a battleground, and Nightmare Beasts scattered into the immortal domain, causing catastrophic havoc, even annihilating cities. Four hundred years ago, Su Mengyu, the second of Qianmen’s Seven Heroes, and Mu Jiutian, the fifth, joined forces to exterminate them.
Since then, no trace remained, and Qianyuan Realm believed them extinct.

—

Yun Yao never imagined encountering such a beast in Qianyuan Realm after four hundred years.

The group maintained their sword array barrier, guided by Yun Yao’s still-functional divine sense, moving toward thinner mist to avoid being trapped.
As they advanced, she briefly explained the Nightmare Beast.

“An-an ancient beast?” Ding Xiao stammered nervously, glancing back. “Are its Nightmare Threads… terrifying?”

Yun Yao said, “Sealing mouth and nose is useless; they enter the body on contact. Mildly, they block spiritual energy; severely, they clog the spiritual mansion, causing hallucinations and dreams.”

“Dreams?”

She elaborated, “Legend says when Nightmare Threads reach the organs, they evoke the most intense emotional memories. The stronger the emotion, the deeper the illusion, leading to dreams. Human hearts are frail; the deepest emotions are often fears. The stronger the fear, the more it feeds the threads, boosting the beast’s cultivation.”

“A vicious cycle with no escape!” Yan Ruoyu’s voice pitched in panic.

Yun Yao glanced at her. “Exactly. The more fear you feed it, the stronger it grows, pushing you closer to death.”

“!”

Yan Ruoyu’s face drained of color.

Ding Xiao swallowed. “Martial Aunt, we’re in this together. Her fear feeds the beast, harming us all… Don’t scare her.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t die,” Yun Yao softened. “I won’t let you fall into dreams easily. Even if I have to beat you black and blue, I’ll keep you awake.”

Disciples: “…”
Unsure whether to thank or curse her.

He Fengming, silent till now, spoke. “If Martial Aunt is so confident, why react so strongly to the Nightmare Beast?”

“It’s a beast unseen for four hundred years, and this mountain’s fog suggests more than one or two.”

His face shifted. “…Someone’s controlling them?”

Ding Xiao gasped. “Who’s so ruthless?”

“That shouldn’t be. Why target Tianyin Sect? They’re peaceful, with no mortal enemies—ow!”

A disciple at the edge yelped, nearly tripping over something on the path.

“Deep woods, heavy fog—watch your step,” He Fengming said, pulling them back.

Outside, he strutted like a cocky rooster around Chen Jianxue, but here, he was relatively steady. Yun Yao gave him another look, thinking no wonder Lu Chang’an valued him. Without his crush nearby, his head cleared, not entirely useless.

“What’s that?”

The group paused, peering at the disciple’s footing—a strangely shaped “stone” protrusion, covered in white, frosty threads.

“This is…”

The nearest disciple instinctively kicked it.
As they focused, the “stone” shifted, threads parting, revealing a pale, bluish hand, twisted beneath a grotesque, rigid face.

“Aaaaah!!”
“—A corpse!”
“Ugh…”

The recently orderly formation dissolved into chaos, nearly collapsing the spiritual sword array.

Yun Yao’s head throbbed. “Hold the array! Want to die with him?”

…No wonder Qianmen declined. How did Chen Qingmu train these disciples over three centuries?

After a few breaths, the sword array stabilized.

“There’s a mountain god temple ahead. We’ll set up there for now.”
“…”

Inside the temple, confirming the array talismans were secure, Yun Yao returned to the mountain god statue.

He Fengming and others meditated, sealing key spiritual channels to block the invasive Nightmare Threads from their organs.

Ding Xiao, likely tempered by physical cultivation, was least affected, the first to open her eyes. Her face was grim. “Martial Aunt, that corpse outside…”

“Tianyin Sect disciple, clutching a flute,” Yun Yao said.

Ding Xiao frowned. “The others aren’t here. Scattered elsewhere, or…”

Yun Yao didn’t open her eyes. “Tianyin’s a mid-tier sect. In a Nightmare Thread array, ten days in the mountain is enough to cross the Naihe Bridge thrice. Save your misplaced kindness and focus on getting out.”

Ding Xiao choked.

He Fengming and Yan Ruoyu opened their eyes in succession.

Yun Yao had observed: He Fengming, the strongest, supplied the most spiritual energy to the array, thus suffering heavier thread invasion.
As for Yan Ruoyu…

The red-robed girl’s lips curled coldly, a mocking glint in her lashes.

Before she could question, Yan Ruoyu forced an uneasy smile, inching toward Ding Xiao. “Martial Aunt, Sister Ding’s just showing compassion for allies. Don’t say that.”

Yun Yao opened her eyes. “What did I say?”

“It’s a matter of life and death. Joking about it feels wrong,” Yan Ruoyu said, shrinking under her gaze.

“Life and death,” Yun Yao scoffed lightly. “How many lives, how many deaths have you seen? How many were dear to you? You dare speak those words—have you tasted another’s blood in your mouth, felt its warmth?”

“…”

Her words, unprecedentedly soft, almost gentle, pinned Yan Ruoyu.
Yet the gentler she was, the more Yan Ruoyu trembled, especially under her gaze, mismatched with her appearance, and the faint glow of the blood butterfly on her forehead, stirring soul-seizing dread.

Unnoticed by Yan Ruoyu, Yun Yao herself paused, startled by her words.

She touched her forehead, bewildered, sitting upright.

…Strange.
Was it the original’s soul memories or the red mark’s influence? She was just a minor immortal guarding the time order of three thousand small worlds, peaceful. Why such thoughts?

Even in her rage, a fleeting notion had crossed her mind:
If this were the Demon Realm, I’d slaughter a city.

Meanwhile, other disciples stirred intermittently.

Thankfully, none had reached the dreaming stage.

“Thanks to Martial Aunt’s knowledge and quick reaction,” Ding Xiao said, still shaken. “If the threads reached our organs, we’d be buried here.”

He Fengming asked, “Martial Aunt said deep threads lead to dreams, truly beyond saving?”

Yun Yao considered. “Once dreaming, nine out of ten die.”

Ding Xiao asked, “How deep is deep?”

“Dreams sink endlessly,” Yun Yao paused. “Legend says the most intense emotions, fueled by Nightmare Threads, can manifest cities, pulling others in.”

“Manifest cities?” Ding Xiao was stunned. “Just emotions creating scenes?”

“Not creation, more like shadows of memory replayed.”

“…”

The disciples peppered her with questions until she grew annoyed.
“Three more questions, then shut up and meditate.”

Yan Ruoyu jumped in. “What do Nightmare Beasts fear?”

Yun Yao glanced expressionlessly but answered.
“Fire.”

“Really?” Yan Ruoyu brightened. “Then we burn the place down!”

Yun Yao was almost impressed, about to speak.

“Wait, no need for Martial Aunt to answer,” Ding Xiao cut in, exasperated, turning to Yan Ruoyu. “Sister Yan, with threads everywhere, fire might not kill them, but we’d definitely die.”

Yun Yao nodded. “Not just everywhere—they’ve marinated you head to toe. Try lighting a fire; see if they burn first or you turn to ash.”

Yan Ruoyu: “…”

Yun Yao: “Next, who’s asking?”

They exchanged glances, settling on He Fengming.

He paused, then looked up. “Martial Aunt, since Nightmare Beasts were deemed extinct four hundred years ago, even Lord Hanyuan likely doesn’t know of them. How do you?”

The question hung, their expressions subtle.

Without Yun Yao’s deep knowledge, as if she’d witnessed it herself, even more Qianmen disciples or elders, unfamiliar with such a beast, would’ve followed Tianyin Sect’s fate.
Everyone was curious, but only He Fengming dared ask.

She didn’t lift her eyes. “Read it in the library.”

“?”

He Fengming, unsatisfied with the obvious dodge, was about to press when—

A talisman outside the temple stirred.

A voice rang into the temple, reaching all ears—

“Fellow cultivators inside? We’re Xuankong Sect disciples, trapped here by misfortune. We seek only shelter, with no ill intent!”

Yun Yao’s eyes flickered. “Xuankong Sect?”
One of the four great immortal sects.

She signaled He Fengming, who understood, announcing their Qianmen identity through the temple door.

Unexpectedly, a delighted female voice replied—

“Qianmen? Is Lord Hanyuan inside?!”

Yun Yao: “…”
Disciples: “…”

He Fengming and the others’ gazes, tinged with similar complex emotions, converged on Yun Yao.

Though not what they expected, Yun Yao’s feelings were indeed complicated.
Three hundred years in seclusion, only to return and be outshone by her sole disciple’s fame and status—where’s the justice?

Ding Xiao inhaled, shouting, “Not here!!”

The voice outside: “Oh…”

—Sounding quite disappointed.

The Qianmen disciples shifted awkwardly.
Yun Yao said coolly, “They reminded me. We should’ve sent your Lord Hanyuan. With his emotionless, desireless saintliness, the Nightmare Beast would kneel and kowtow thrice before fleeing.”