“He is.”

Jinjing fell silent, as though absorbing the gravity of this revelation. After a moment, she asked hesitantly, “What about the gods? What level are they?”

“For light core cultivators, the final stage is called Ascension. When an immortal ascends, they transcend to the heavens and join the ranks of the gods. That’s considered the tenth level.”

“And for dark core cultivators?” she asked, leaning forward slightly.

“They have an equivalent stage, but it’s called Descension.”

“Descension?” Her voice carried a note of disbelief. “Does that mean… they go down instead of up?”

“That’s correct,” I confirmed.

“And where exactly does ‘down’ lead to?” she pressed.

“To the underworld.”

“And they… become real devils?”

“That’s what’s said. But there’s only been one recorded instance of someone reaching that stage, and he vanished afterward. No one knows what truly happens after Descension.”

“But if he’s immortal, he must still be alive, right?” she asked, her tone tinged with curiosity.

“No one knows. The only person to achieve Descension disappeared five centuries ago.”

“Has anyone ascended recently?” she asked, her excitement building.

“Not for a long time,” I admitted. “The most recent was Liang Hu. He was also a priest and is recognized by all light sects as a god.”

“Does he still exist?”

I shook my head. “Five hundred years ago, Liang Hu fought a demon in a battle that shook the entire continent. According to one account, he sacrificed himself to hold the demon down while a group of heroes sealed the demon’s core.”

“Heroes?” she echoed, her voice filled with wonder.

“They were seven cultivators trained specifically to master the art of sealing cores. They existed solely to put an end to the demon who had terrorized the continent.”

“And what happened to Liang Hu?”

“He ascended to the heavens after his death.”

Jinjing let out a soft gasp of amazement. “That’s an incredible story. Was it real?”

“It’s hard to say,” I replied honestly. “Five hundred years is a long time. The book I read about it was written only a century ago, so its accuracy is questionable. That’s why people consider it a legend. But Liang Hu’s existence is well-documented in ancient texts. As for the demon… there’s surprisingly little written about him. No one even recorded his name.”

“That seems odd,” she said, frowning slightly. “Why wouldn’t they document such an important figure?”

“Prejudice, perhaps,” I suggested. “Most historians belong to light sects. They likely didn’t think it worth their effort to detail the life of a dark sect cultivator. In their eyes, he was just another devil.”

“I can understand that,” Jinjing said, her tone contemplative. “But what a shame. It would have made an interesting story.”

“The same thing is happening now,” I replied. “The rankings of the top ten cultivators are biased toward the light sects. They deliberately exclude any mention of Ruan Yanjun. They act as though his existence is just a tale.”

“They pretend he doesn’t exist?” she asked, incredulous.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“You come from a light sect. Why do you speak like Ruan Yanjun is real, then?”

“I refuse to blind myself to the truth just to uphold a biased narrative,” I said firmly. “If Ruan Yanjun has genuinely reached the ninth level, we should accept it as fact, not dismiss it as a tale to soothe our egos.”

“You should write a book about it,” she suggested, a faint smile in her voice. “Become an example of an unbiased light sect disciple.”

I shook my head. “I don’t have the credibility for that anymore. Who would believe the words of a level zero cultivator?”

She sighed, letting the conversation lapse for a moment before asking hesitantly, “Do you think… Ruan Yanjun will someday attain that final level you mentioned?”

“It’s highly possible,” I admitted. “In fact, based on everything I’ve heard about him, I don’t doubt it.”

“Is he really that powerful?”

“The very fact that he’s reached level nine speaks for itself. Just hearing his name is enough to make people tremble in fear—cultivators or not.”

“Is he that terrifying?” she asked, her voice lowering.

“He’s a devil—ruthless and notorious. It’s best to steer clear of him. There’s a reason even Emperor An of Wun and Emperor Yin of Xianru fear him.”

She drew a deep breath. “Then we were lucky to get out of that restaurant before we were caught in the chaos.”

“Indeed,” I agreed, though doubt lingered in my mind. “But I still question whether Lord Lan is truly Ruan Yanjun.”

“Why do you doubt it?”

“When we spoke earlier, Lord Lan mentioned a man suffering from a mysterious illness. He believes the man was poisoned and suspects that I suffer from the same affliction. He wanted me to see the man myself. If he were Ruan Yanjun, I doubt he would care about someone else’s life. He’s known for being utterly self-centered. Compassion isn’t a trait associated with him.”

“Even if what he says is true, what can you do for the man?” she countered. “You can’t even heal yourself.”

“That’s true,” I admitted. “But the man seems wealthy and willing to provide resources. That might give me a chance to figure out what’s wrong with me. Without proper tools or materials, I can’t diagnose my condition or find a cure. If they provide the resources, there’s hope.”

She pondered my words. “Did you agree to go?”

“I was about to, but then that intruder barged in. When he called Lord Lan ‘Ruan Yanjun,’ I wasn’t sure anymore.”

She fell silent, the room growing still except for the faint rustle of her hand against the table. Finally, she said, “This is quite a dilemma. I can’t decide either. But… looking at you, your condition isn’t improving. Rather than just waiting for it to worsen, maybe it’s better to take the chance.”

I sighed. “That’s my thought as well.”

Her hand tapped mine gently. “Lord Lan may seem intimidating, but I don’t think he’s a devil. If he intended to harm you, he’d have done it already. Maybe that grandmaster just mistook him for Ruan Yanjun.”

Unlikely. Wang Bei was a grandmaster. Someone of his level wouldn’t make such a mistake. “If I hadn’t lost my cultivation, I could probably sense it myself,” I said. “But now… I can no longer discern or understand the aura of someone at such a high level.”

She shifted in her seat, considering my words. “So… what will you do?”

I turned to her, letting my gaze rest on her silhouette. Even though I couldn’t clearly see her features, just the sight of her profile brought me a sense of calm. “If you think I should give it a try, then I will.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you.”

I took a deep breath. “No, you’re right. I need to take the chance.”