Xu Mo turned his gaze toward the group standing behind him. His teammates—four of the strongest outer sect disciples—remained silent, waiting for his command. Yet even in stillness, their unease was visible. One shifted his weight from left foot to right, another mirrored the motion—then again: left, right, left. None dared to speak, let alone move past the threshold.
Whether it was fear of Xu Mo himself, fear of his title as the True Successor, or the ever-present shadow of the Head Elder who stood silently in support behind him… even they couldn’t tell anymore.
Xu Mo furrowed his brows slightly. When had everyone else entered? The surroundings were quiet—eerily so. He glanced at the cracked gateway to the Secret Realm, swirling with mist and mystery. They were the only ones left.
Letting out a soft breath, Xu Mo took a step forward, his voice calm and without pretense.
“I’ll be honest. I have no experience leading a team. If any of you have suggestions, I’ll hear them.”
There was no arrogance in his tone. No pressure. Just quiet sincerity that cut through the tension like a blade. He wasn’t pretending to be someone he wasn’t—he was asking, listening.
Xu Mo stood with his hands behind his back, silent for a moment as he faced the mist-veiled entrance. Then, slowly, he turned to the four disciples behind him. His eyes met each of theirs—not with authority, but with calm sincerity.
His voice was soft, yet it carried in the stillness.
“I won’t pretend I know everything. This is my first time leading a team, and I won’t insult your intelligence by acting like I’ve done it before. I’m not someone who charges ahead and expects everyone else to clean up the mess. If any of you have experience, insight, or even doubts… speak freely.”
He paused, glancing toward the swirling gate again.
“In there, every step could be life or death. I don’t want obedience—I want understanding. I won’t gamble with your lives just to prove something. If you follow me, it’ll be as equals, not pawns.”
A faint breeze rustled his sleeves. The quiet respect in his tone settled heavier than arrogance ever could.
“So if you have something to say, now’s the time. We’ll step into this together—or not at all.”
Seeing none of them had anything to say, Xu Mo turned and walked toward the portal.
Tap, tap.
He stopped and looked up at the portal, which had started to shrink. The elders from the Verdant Sky Hall had already departed, and the formation that had been flickering moments ago had now returned to slumber.
He and his teammates touched hands or placed hands on each other’s shoulders, using their Qi to keep their grips firm—bound by trust, not fear.
And the moment Xu Mo and his teammates passed through the portal that connected to the Secret Realm, something happened—something Xu Mo had feared from the very first day he obtained the system.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
[Turbulence Detected... Error... Space and Time Wormhole.... Error... Connection to the Host Becoming Weak.... Attempting a restart... Restart Failed... Error... Limiting System Functions... Success...]
The moment Xu Mo crossed the crimson portal into the Secret Realm, he felt a barrier form in front of him. His connection through Qi to his teammates broke instantly. But that wasn’t all. The damn system again—it made that loud, strange sound, and his ears began ringing. Xu Mo was stuck somewhere in between the Space and Time Channel that connected his world to the Secret Realm. On both sides, no one could tell what kind of predicament he was in.
Even if they knew… who would dare to help him? Did anyone even have the strength to do so?
Right now, Xu Mo was inside a strange, straight, continuous path. Even when he turned his hand or moved his body, everything vibrated at a dangerous rate. Xu Mo even felt that his hand had started to age. His hair grew longer. He felt the vitality inside his body slowly—no, rapidly—decrease. If he stayed here for even one more minute, he might truly die.
Fortunately, the system’s final prompt echoed:
[Success.]
And he felt the barrier that had halted his progress vanish. Before he could process it further, Xu Mo was stretched out like a thin noodle and vanished into the bright light.
Three Days Later
Xu Mo, who had been unconscious for three days, slowly began to regain his nerves.
He groaned. His throat was so dry that even a simple groan felt like it might cause it to burst. The itch in his throat became unbearable, and he began to cough.
After two or three strong coughs, blood spilled from his mouth—but Xu Mo, still not fully conscious, didn’t notice. He simply lay on the ground, continuing to cough.
His throat felt like it was on fire, the taste of metal lingering in his mouth. Xu Mo experienced a strange sense of lethargy—something he had never felt before.
A Few Hours Later
Xu Mo finally managed to gather his strength and forced open his heavy eyelids. What greeted him was a blood-red sky, with a moon of crimson hue casting an eerie glow across the land. The chilling light, combined with his condition, made the sight even more surreal.
He tried to move his body but realized he was trapped inside a fissure path.
(A/N: A narrow trail that winds through deep splits in the earth or mountains.)
He attempted to channel his Qi to break through the path of rocks, but found—confusingly—that his Qi had been completely drained.
The biggest question remained: Who had brought him here—and why was he thrown inside this fissure path?
Xu Mo closed his eyes, trying to remember what had happened before he lost consciousness. The last thing he recalled was being swallowed by a bright light. After that—darkness. And now, he had awoken here.
‘First, I need to heal my throat. If I don’t, it might suffer permanent damage.’
Xu Mo, able to see Qi, noticed that this place had an absurdly high concentration of spiritual energy—much purer than in the outer world. He tried to concentrate, attempting to draw the Qi toward him. But the energy here was far more stubborn, much harder to command than what he was used to in the sect.
Xu Mo changed his approach. Instead, he activated the Drifting Dragon Breathing Method. Finally, the Qi in the air reacted. Slowly, ever so slowly, it began to gather around him.
He opened his mouth with great difficulty—it felt like there were cracks in his throat, making even exhaling painful. The turbid Qi was gently sucked into his mouth, and Xu Mo guided it carefully to only touch his throat.
The spiritual energy itself contained life. Some even believed it had consciousness. Xu Mo was trying to test that theory.
He didn’t know any Daoist healing techniques. He wasn’t someone who pursued the Dao of Medicine or Alchemy. There were no herbs around. Even if there were, he would first need the strength to escape this place.
Sniff—Sniff—Sniff...
Xu Mo’s ears picked up a sound. A strong sniffing—like some beast was searching for something. The fissure path was completely dark, and he could barely see anything. The sound came from above—just a short distance away.
Sniff—Sniff—Sniff...
More sniffing sounds now. Xu Mo grew tense. He remembered—this Secret Realm wasn’t dangerous because of rival sects or enemies. It was the beasts.
He recalled what the Shadow Sentinel once said: for every human that entered the Secret Realm, there were at least ten beasts—and every single one had already reached the stage of a Spiritual Beast.