Ji Mian barely held onto her consciousness. The scene before her eyes was already losing focus, and the Black Yan trembled in her hand, exuding a deep sense of unease.
Though she could barely see, she heard Lin Qingye’s voice.
It was restrained and patient, yet seemingly tinged with a trace of anger.
“You killed so many people and used forbidden arts to extend her life, paying a heavy price yourself. Now that you’ve ended up with this result, was it worth it?”
Some royal secrets were hardly unfamiliar to Lin Qingye. In her early years, traveling far and wide with her master, she had caught wind of more than a few rumors.
No matter how glamorous and respected these people appeared on the surface, in the end, they still could not escape the word “love.”
Matters of the heart have been difficult to untangle since ancient times.
At this moment of intense tension, Lin Qingye suddenly heard a muffled thud from behind. A sharp blade dropped onto the hard floor, emitting a crisp, clear chime.
Lin Qingye turned her head and spotted two people who had appeared out of nowhere.
Ji Mian half-leaned against Yuhuai’s embrace, her eyes closed, her lips pale, and her fingers curled tightly together as if she were desperately enduring something.
Meanwhile, Yuhuai wrapped her arms tightly around Ji Mian, completely oblivious to everything happening around them, her gaze fixed unblinkingly upon a single person.
Lin Qingye secretly clenched her teeth, swallowing down a jealousy born of unknown origins.
She withdrew her gaze and looked toward the girl protecting the demon.
The girl’s figure was extremely slender, and the oversized burlap clothes draped over her looked as though cold drafts could pour in from all directions, offering little to no warmth.
She was kneeling over the demon, busy tending to its wounds.
Looking closely, Lin Qingye spotted the contract markings on the other person’s wrists.
Seeming to notice Lin Qingye’s gaze, the girl turned around, still remaining cautiously on guard as she shielded the demon—which was twice her size—behind her.
“I know what you want.”
The girl’s tone contrasted sharply with her timid appearance, revealing the shrewdness of a merchant.
“Let’s make a deal.”
After careful consideration, Lin Qingye nodded and turned to walk toward Fuling and the other woman.
The wound on Ji Changchi’s neck was still bleeding—cold and dark red, as if she intended to drain every last drop of blood from her body just to exhaust every ounce of her life.
Lin Qingye had never seen so much blood; it did not belong to just one person, but to many.
Perhaps in the moments of parting, she should not have intruded upon their conversation. The near-and-far murmurs drifted into her ears, spoken as softly as a bedtime story.
“A long time ago, you brought me along as we fled. I thought we could live in peace and happiness for a while. But the pursuers bit at our heels relentlessly. I still remember that time, when we hid in a swamp filled with your scent. You wrapped me in your own clothes, and your words filtered through the heavy fabric.”
Fuling: “Your Highness, let me take you to the underground palace—the one we went to before. We can hide there.”
“At that moment, I lost all hope. This underwater palace was supervised and built by my younger sister. She is brilliant, and every single mechanism inside was crafted by her own hands. From the very beginning, the purpose of this palace was imprisonment. Every mechanism was designed to trap people hopelessly in this place, making survival impossible, wishing for death in vain, stripping away all hope.”
Saying this, a mouthful of blood surged up Ji Changchi’s throat. She turned her head aside, letting the endless stream of blood flow freely.
She closed her eyes, leaning into Fuling’s embrace as if trying to draw some warmth from her.
“You modified every single mechanism, turning them into one interesting little game after another for my amusement.”
Perhaps this world had treated her unkindly, but it no longer mattered. When someone treats you well, doubling their efforts and giving their all, it is naturally far more precious than any equal charity.
“So I don’t blame you, nor do I resent you. But why are you so foolish?”
Once upon a time, the High Priestess was also the object of countless young maidens’ dreams.
The woman’s voice grew fainter and fainter, the flowing blood spreading a red carpet across the floor. Inhaling the scent lingering in the air, Lin Qingye trembled violently all over.
When Ji Mian woke up again, she found herself resting in Yuhuai’s embrace. Dazed, she realized her condition had improved significantly, her strength fully returned.
They were still inside the underground palace, with Fuling holding Ji Changchi’s corpse before them.
The woman’s sleeping expression was serene, her face wiped very clean. Fuling’s gentle stroking motion was so pious, as though she were touching a rare and peerless treasure in this world.
She did not know how long she had slept, but Fuling had remained completely still for just as long.
Ji Mian felt as though her entire body was falling apart, and her head pounded relentlessly. After watching the two of them for a long time, she vaguely remembered something.
Did Lin Qingye actually spare her life?
There was an irreconcilable blood feud between humanity and demonkind, and disciples of the Daoist sects would kill any demon, or anyone entangled with demons, on sight.
Looking at Ji Changchi’s pale face, lingering doubts remained in Ji Mian’s heart. She motioned for Yuhuai to step away and asked,
“May I ask you a few questions?”
Fuling did not reply, seeming lost in thought. After a long while, words squeezed out of her dry throat.
“You look a lot like Changchi…”
Perhaps with the dust finally settling, some things no longer needed to be hidden. She no longer addressed her Highness as “Your Highness,” choosing instead a more intimate tone, silently resolving to follow her in life and in death.
“Then am I related to her in any way?”
“I do not know. I did not constantly stay by Her Highness’s side, nor did she tell me everything. Besides, there are some things Her Highness herself may not have known. It’s just that you look very much like her, though the color of your pupils and hair are different.”
Gazing at Ji Mian’s face, Fuling leaned her head close to Ji Changchi’s corpse, gently and tenderly caressing her.
“Perhaps you could go have a look at Zheshe.”
“There is a ruin there. You might find what you are looking for.”
After recuperating for a period of time, Ji Mian left the village in a carriage amidst a series of violent explosions behind her.
Ji Mian had intended to search for Lin Qingye’s whereabouts, only to be informed by Yuhuai that Lin Qingye had already departed on the very day of the incident.
She felt a baseless sense of loss, wondering when, or if, they would ever meet again.
Yuhuai drove the carriage through the bustling market street. Once the illusions shattered, where would these people go? Did they even truly exist?
On her way to the formation core, she glimpsed a dilapidated thatched cottage. A petite girl sat at the doorway, a bamboo basket before her, holding a wild vegetable in her hand.
Their gazes suddenly met. The girl flashed her a smile, watching her disappear at the end of the road.
Ji Mian did not look back, vaguely sensing the aura of the demonic sect radiating from the girl.
The path through the forest was dead silent. After passing through, it had completely turned into a dead city. The houses from earlier, now that the forbidden arts had failed, had also become utterly dilapidated.
Ji Mian only managed to catch the exact moment the houses turned to dust, leaving behind an unnamable mixture upon which repulsive flying insects swarmed, dancing up and down to feed on the flesh and blood of the dead.
Unwilling to watch such a scene, she sat inside the carriage and looked out toward the distant towering mountains and babbling streams, never turning back even once.
From beginning to end, this place was a grand mausoleum.
From the very start, she had wanted everyone here to be buried in this place, burying the past secrets of Canglu.
This was also Lin Qingye’s first opportunity to touch upon the darkness of those bygone years, step by step reclaiming her lost memories and walking firmly upon her own path.
The four corners of the realm were originally occupied by four nations: Xuanyin to the northwest, Moshen to the northeast, Zheshe to the southeast, and Canglu to the southwest.
Later, as the imperial power declined and the practice of Daoism flourished, it gradually evolved into Daoist sects of all sizes. As the Daoist sects grew increasingly powerful and threatened the authority of the throne, the four nations signed a pact: should any enemy invade, the four nations would unite as one to resist.
Yet how could the Daoists be people of such narrow vision? Their lifespans were naturally longer than those of ordinary mortals, and every single one of them was as cunning as a fox. Once granted certain privileges, they demanded more, and greed birthed crime after crime.
They bribed several monarchs with extremely lucrative gains. The short-sighted other three nations signed peace treaties with them, allowing Daoist forces to slowly erode the imperial court.
It was precisely at this time that the monarch of Canglu stood apart, firmly resisting the Daoist involvement in state affairs. Refusing to yield, they touched upon the Daoists’ interests, thus suffering the calamity of having their nation destroyed.
The imperial heirs of Canglu fled in the chaos, and most went missing. This princess was the eldest daughter born to the empress and the emperor. At the exact moment the war broke out, she was entrusted by the emperor to the High Priestess Fuling, lingering on in a precarious existence until this day.
Affairs of the world are always fond of playing such tricks.
Watching Ji Mian’s carriage depart, Lin Qingye emerged from behind the mountain rocks. After taking a few steps, she collapsed limply onto the ground. She couldn’t even hold her sword steady, and her futile attempts to support herself with both hands failed. Slowly shuffling forward, she crawled into a cave, drenched in cold sweat, and lay flat on her back upon the stone slab.
A sensation of extreme, freezing pain surged through her entire body. She uncontrollably shivered all over, curling her body into a ball in a disorderly fashion, and sank into a deep sleep amidst the unbearable agony.
Perhaps stimulated by this journey, Ji Mian experienced a very long dream on her way back.
It felt completely immersive, as though she had truly entered a dreamscape—yet it clearly was not a mere illusion, because while existing as a soul, she saw another Ji Mian seated inside a spacious carriage, right in the middle of which a chessboard had been set up.
The sky was overcast with dark clouds, the sounds of slaughter filled the air, and the yellowish-brown earth was soaked with crimson blood, almost losing its original color.
Ji Mian’s expression was indifferent. At the instant a spray of blood flew past, she merely flicked her sleeve to form a barrier, blocking away the splashing liquid, while her other hand dropped a stone onto the chessboard.
A fierce gust of wind struck. Without defending herself, Ji Mian watched as the chessboard on the table was overturned. A pristine white figure flew in, wielding a sword with a layer of pale, biting frost coating its tip, the chill piercing straight to the bone.
Ji Mian sidestepped to evade the sword qi, casually summoning the Black Yan and kicking up a plume of black smoke.
Before the sword was even unsheathed, the impact forced Lin Qingye to retreat repeatedly until she finally collapsed half-kneeling on the ground from sheer exhaustion, the Frost Descending sword dropping beside her hand, her right arm too weak to hold a weapon any longer.
Their gazes collided, sparking complex emotions. Ji Mian saw raw, unknown feelings revealed in the original owner’s eyes, while her hand relaxed time and time again, giving Lin Qingye opportunity after opportunity to escape and launch another attack.
Looking at this scene, Ji Mian was completely dumbfounded.
She had never written this, nor did she remember any such event happening.