Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Who Are You

Bai Chong An’s eyes flew open. “You—”

He tried to stop it.

But the Yin-Yang Umbrella had already awakened.

No matter what he did, he couldn’t halt it.

The devil-gathering formation he’d spent decades building condensed the Bai clan’s blood essence into the richest nourishment—only for it to pass him once and pour into Bai Meng Jin.

Outside, Guan Mo Wen sensed the shift and rushed for the door.

“Stop him!” Bai Meng Jin barked.

The four at the doorway froze—then Huo Chong Xiao moved.

Gathering what little power he had left, he lunged at Guan Mo Wen and locked him down.

“Bai… Junior Sister Bai…” Yue Yun Qiao stared blankly, shock hollowing her voice.

“She’s drawing it back,” Huo Chong Xiao rasped, teeth clenched. “Help. Now!”

Yue Yun Qiao shook. “But she’s only Qi Refining… How can she endure devil qi flooding her body? Isn’t this suicide?”

Bai Meng Lian’s heart punched against her ribs as understanding struck.

“She pretended to surrender…” she whispered.

Bai Meng Xing still looked lost, but Bai Meng Lian couldn’t afford to explain. She raised her sword and charged.

[Even if she died today, I’ll guard the door for her.]

Yue Yun Qiao looked once at Bai Meng Jin, swallowed by black, then ripped out her protective treasure with trembling hands.

A desperate resolve hardened her face. “To the end!”

Inside, as the Yin-Yang Umbrella spun, the whirlpool swelled. Devil qi condensed until it looked almost liquid.

With a violent bang, the door couldn’t take the pressure and slammed shut.

The room went dark.

Devil qi flooded it to the brim like black water poured into a basin.

Bai Chong An was pinned in place.

While condensing a devil heart, he couldn’t move freely. He fought with everything he had, but the backflow would not yield.

A crack sounded—faint, but unmistakable.

His devil heart shattering.

The devil qi he’d gathered so painfully was stripped away layer by layer, exposing his already fractured golden core beneath.

Without the devil heart’s protection, his body began to fail under the scouring flood.

[Something is wrong.]

Bai Chong An’s gaze snapped to Bai Meng Jin.

Light gleamed in her eyes. A small smile curled her lips—playful, amused, like a cat watching a mouse struggle.

Alarm sharpened his voice. “You did this?”

Bai Meng Jin smiled. “Who else?”

His cultivation began to collapse.

Golden Core fell to late Foundation Establishment, then to mid, then to early.

Age slammed into him like a curse.

Bai Meng Jin, by contrast, grew rosier by the breath, as if she were drinking rare tonic straight from the source.

Bai Chong An snarled, fury cracking his voice. “Wretched girl! The Bai Family raised you for years, and you repay kindness with betrayal!”

Disappointment stirred in Bai Meng Jin, cold and bitter. “Great-Uncle, you look awful like this.

“I still remember when my parents died. You came to the mourning hall to pay your respects. You looked so lofty, so otherworldly… it made people admire you.”

The words yanked at Bai Chong An’s memories. His expression flickered.

Bai Meng Jin’s smile sharpened. “Remember now?

“This Yin-Yang Umbrella was my mother’s keepsake. She was the last heir of the Bei Ming Gu Clan. Did you really think she wouldn’t leave the clan’s secret arts to me?”

Bai Chong An’s throat tightened. “You still remember…”

“I was six,” Bai Meng Jin said flatly. “How could I forget?”

Back then, she’d never objected to him taking the umbrella. A treasure like that truly couldn’t be left in a child’s hands.

And the family had sheltered her. Taking a few things could be called fair.

But she would not accept this.

The Bei Ming Gu Clan had guarded the Ming River for a thousand years, keeping the world safe until the last heir sacrificed themself. In her mother’s hands, the Yin-Yang Umbrella guided wandering souls and protected the living.

How could Bai Chong An stain it with blood sacrifice?

Bai Meng Jin pushed harder.

The Yin-Yang Umbrella spun faster.

Devil qi tore from Bai Chong An in brutal strips. His cultivation kept falling.

Meanwhile, Bai Meng Jin’s dantian swelled with devil qi, reaching the limit of Qi Refining.

It didn’t stop. The pressure forced the qi to compress into something thick and liquid-like.

Her inner realm cracked.

Foundation Establishment.

Still the flood came—devil qi and spiritual qi streaming through the umbrella’s conversion.

Early Foundation Establishment. Mid. Late.

By then, Bai Chong An had fallen to the Foundation Establishment Stage. He glared at her, eyes full of hatred and unwillingness.

“You think you can take it all?” he spat. “Dream on!

“I’ve cultivated a hundred years to barely step into Golden Core. Even if you steal your way to Foundation Establishment, you still can’t force your way into Golden Core. Your body can’t bear this much devil qi! If you push it, you’ll burst and die!”

Bai Meng Jin smiled faintly. “A hundred years to reach Golden Core… Great-Uncle, your talent really isn’t much.

“No wonder you had to take the crooked path.”

Mocked by someone he’d dismissed as a powerless child, Bai Chong An’s face twisted. “And now you’re a devil cultivator too. Isn’t that crooked?”

“Wrong again,” Bai Meng Jin said softly. “Devil qi has safe ways to use it. You just don’t understand.

“You raised Devil Creatures to drain blood essence, pretended to be an evil god to steal souls, offered clan flesh and blood as sacrifice… how could devil qi squeezed out by such twisted methods not backfire?

“I baited the tiger with my own body to save people. And I took your cultivation fair and square.”

The Yin-Yang Umbrella glowed faintly.

The pressure inside Bai Meng Jin hit its limit again.

Her dantian swelled—and shattered.

For an instant, pain flared bright enough to drown thought.

Then vitality flowed from the umbrella, balancing spirit and devil, life and death.

Her dantian tore, healed, tore again, healed again—expanding with each cycle.

A Devil Seed appeared.

Devil qi wrapped around it, layer by layer.

From that moment on, it was no longer devil qi being forced into her.

She was drawing it in.

Bai Chong An, the umbrella, the room full of black fluid, the formation itself—everything became her nourishment.

Her devil heart began to take shape.

“Impossible!” Bai Chong An rasped, voice cracking. “How is this possible?”

He’d poured decades into switching paths. Devil qi polluted the body. To cultivate it, you had to be corroded again and again, repaired again and again.

How could she need none of that?

A flash of insight struck him like a blade.

He stared at Bai Meng Jin, already fallen back to the Qi Refining Stage, old and feeble.

“Your Excellency…” he wheezed. “Who are you?”

Bai Meng Jin’s face, even wrapped in devil qi, reflected a pale, white-jade glow.

She smiled, soft as a whisper. “My surname is Bai. My name is Meng Jin. I studied under Sect Master Cen Mu Liang of the Cinnabar Cloud Palace, and I betrayed my master and left the sect.

“In the jianghu, they call me Yu Mo.”