Fellow Daoist! That scoundrel has written a new book again.

Chapter 531 Repairing Bridges and Roads Without Finding Corpses

On a cold, rainy night, thick fog enveloped everything. The grass blades were as brittle as ice, with sharp serrated edges. The river flowed silently forward, carrying mud and sand, ceaselessly rushing onward.

By the river and the bridge, just like when he came to save her years ago, Shen Anzhi came to kill her.

Zhu Wuyao has come a long way and has learned how to carve out a way to survive in the rainy night.

Even if there are a thousand reasons why someone should die.

"But I'm not willing to stop here."

A flash of sword light appeared in the thick fog.

The dark broadsword cleaved through the even deeper darkness of the night, cutting through the rain curtain as it charged forward. When she appeared in some unknown corner, when cause and effect became unclear, it once again raised its sword and slashed down.

Hundreds and thousands of times, no matter how cause and effect are divided, every segment of Zhu Wuyao's writing is imbued with murderous intent.

Wherever Shen Anzhi appeared, his sword energy would slash and kill.

Until the sword intent of the falling leaves surged in every corner of the mist.

"Zhu Wuyao! Are you crazy?!"

The desolate sword intent intertwined with the chaotic mist.

Even though one sword strike could always land on Shen Anzhi, most of the attacks, thanks to his manipulation of cause and effect, ended up on Zhu Wuyao.

The mist and sword intent were inextricably intertwined. Shen Anzhi and Zhu Wuyao were both caught in it, and even if they were both injured, there would always be one who was more seriously wounded.

The powerful computing capabilities of the Spirit Pen can integrate fragmented cause and effect, piece together the correct timeline, distinguish between existing fragments, and find those yet to appear.

It narrated everything to Zhu Wuyao through the connection between their consciousnesses.

Until, suddenly, silence.

The story is more than halfway through, and the exhaustive deduction of violence has reached its end, with a conclusion already reached.

Zhu Wuyao remained stubborn.

"With that magic pen, you should have seen the final outcome."

No matter how chaotic the cause and effect may be in the fog, it all takes place under one premise—the inevitable events are edited out, only the order in which they unfold is changed.

When he stood at the end, he could already see the ending.

There seemed to be countless possibilities, but there was only one clear path leading to the predetermined future. This was both the authority of the divine eye and the power of the purple aura.

Zhu Wuyao guessed the ending.

Her failure may have already occurred, but it just hasn't been "played" out yet.

However, this situation was not unfamiliar to her.

Or rather, it's all too familiar.

Every hexagram cast foreshadows a predetermined ending: the flood in Nanli is destined to happen, Ge Mingsheng's entry into the Juque Sect is destined to happen, and Mingzhu's "stealing" of things is destined to happen...

But most of the time, she didn't have time to think too much and could only move forward.

Whether the outcome is good or bad, one may find a way out or perish.

Do you think I'd still be afraid?

The moment the words fell, the mist began to surge and flow, centered on Zhu Wuyao, like ink being stirred by a single stroke.

His eyes were filled with a sinister grin, making him appear both godlike and demonic.

She was frozen in time, becoming a solidified ink dot. All the defeats unfolded in an instant, and Zhu Wuyao couldn't even distinguish which failure followed which attack—

She was slammed to the ground from high above, thrown far away by a palm strike, struck by sword energy, bleeding profusely from her wounds, her spiritual power was devoured by the mist, and all her sword intent vanished instantly...

The downward trend suddenly stopped.

Everything seemed to be playing in reverse, and she suddenly rose upwards.

Zhu Wuyao was pulled in front of Shen Anzhi.

Before she drew her sword, mist enveloped her limbs.

"Zhu Wuyao, you are not afraid of walking towards death, but you are afraid of opening your eyes."

"You chose to forget and escape, like driftwood floating on the river, eroded by the world in a corner, your mind aging, day after day."

"How can one know that the hermit beyond worldly affairs is not the one who gazes at the mirror amidst the dust of the world?"

"What's the point of your struggle now? It's just your survival instinct kicking in, and your struggle is just a matter of inertia."

"Zhu Wuyao, it's not that I want to kill you, but that you are waiting for death to come."

"It has always been the same from beginning to end."

Shen Anzhi released her, and just as Zhu Wuyao fell, he touched her brow with his fingertip.

A powerful surge of spiritual energy erupted between the two, spreading outwards and sweeping away the mist. The reversed scene began to unfold in normal order, and she fell downwards.

The spiritual energy that invaded between the eyebrows brought chaos and disorder.

It tore at Zhu Wuyao's divine consciousness, annihilating it inch by inch.

Heaven and earth were shrouded in mist, a state of chaos that remained unbroken.

Her head was throbbing with pain, and she could no longer project her consciousness. Zhu Wuyao completely lost her ability to distinguish objects and fell into utter darkness, plunging into endless nothingness.

A tremendous panic rose from the bottom of my heart.

She gripped the blunt sword in her hand, propped herself up, and moved backward. Cold, crisp blades of grass brushed against her arm, causing a slight stinging sensation, before her back pressed against a boulder.

These sensations restored Zhu Wuyao's senses, allowing her to determine that it was the giant rock standing by the bridge.

She knew where she was.

Instinctively, she wanted to use her sword to prop herself up, but the pain spreading through her limbs made her unable to move.

There were external wounds from sword energy, ulcers from mist erosion, internal injuries from chaotic spiritual energy, and excruciating pain from broken bones and shattered consciousness caused by the fall... The spiritual energy within her body was still stubbornly circulating, attempting to repair her damaged body and maintain her life.

As Shen Anzhi said—it was instinctive, a drive to survive.

The whirring of the pen stopped, and she suddenly fell silent, belatedly realizing that she was tired.

Zhu Wuyao realized with a clear head that he was no match for Shen Anzhi. He was completely blind, his consciousness was severely damaged, and he could not even find Shen Anzhi's whereabouts or lift his sword.

So she moved back a little, leaning against the boulder.

His arms hung limply at his sides, his breath grew weak, and he awaited death.

In that instant, due to the excruciating pain from the shattering of her consciousness, she was unable to think of anything at all.

The drooping arm touched something.

It's an inscription on a stone.

Zhu Wuyao touched the hard stone with her fingertips, as if trying to distract herself and find a foothold for her bewildered thoughts.

She carefully examined the line of text—

"Murderers and arsonists wear golden belts, while those who repair bridges and roads leave no trace."

Ah……

Zhu Wuyao smiled self-deprecatingly, her heart filled with sorrow. If this was the end of her journey, then this stone by the river would be like a prophecy, serving as a tombstone for her grave.

Chaotic spiritual energy surged and collided everywhere.

As if to fulfill this prophecy, the next moment it would shred her flesh and blood, leaving no trace of her body, and let her sleep here forever.

Just then, Zhu Wuyao's fingertips suddenly paused.

After that sentence, there seemed to be more words; she touched them, discerned them, and silently recited them:

"...But I refuse to believe that those who do good deeds will live to a ripe old age, enjoying a carefree and happy life...Today, we repair bridges and roads..."

She suddenly choked up and burst into tears.

The boulder had an inscription that read—

"Today we repair bridges and roads, next year willows will droop along the banks. When will we be able to stroll together with Ah Yao?"