“Yan Zhu…”
An inexplicable sense of familiarity welled up in her heart. Song Wenqing was in a daze for a split second, as if some scene flashed across her mind, but by the time she realized it and tried to catch it, it had already vanished without a trace.
The doubts that originally existed in her heart had not yet dissipated, and even more popped up at this moment.
Song Wenqing pressed her lips together and slightly narrowed her eyes, trying to see this person more clearly.
She was still not quite used to the world in her eyes today, where everything was reduced to mere outlines and colors. People looked as if they were wearing a mask, their facial features blurred into a single mass.
Therefore, she had never been able to see this person’s appearance clearly.
However, being closer had its advantages. Song Wenqing observed details she had not noticed before—the person in front of her was holding a long, strip-shaped object, much like a stick.
She probed it slightly and found that it contained extremely abundant spiritual energy.
Because the aura was very unfamiliar, Song Wenqing was temporarily unable to determine its category.
Yan Zhu noticed that the gaze of the person opposite her lingered for a moment on the tung wood she was holding, so she also lowered her head and looked down.
The “bloodstains” at the fracture point of the tung wood had now completely dried, and the surface of the trunk emitted a jade-like luster in the sunlight.
Because the thickness happened to fit her grip and the weight was neither too light nor too heavy, Yan Zhu, on a whim, held it and swung it casually in the air, stirring up a series of whistling sounds.
Song Wenqing was about to walk over to pick up the book that the disciple had delivered earlier, but halfway there, she suddenly turned her head and glanced in the direction where Yan Zhu was standing.
It seemed… like the spatial-type law aura?!
No, it must be my imagination.
Song Wenqing lowered her eyes and dismissed the thought that had popped into her mind.
Spatial-type laws required a cultivator to reach the Nascent Soul stage to master them.
There were over tens of thousands of cultivators in the Lingyun Dao Sect, and even counting the elders, there were only a few hundred whose cultivation surpassed the Golden Core stage.
As for the Nascent Soul stage, there were even fewer, and the names of those people were household names, known even to the errand disciples.
And in that spot, only Yan Zhu had been standing from beginning to end. Although Song Wenqing could not probe her cultivation level, she could be certain that this person definitely did not belong to any of the Nascent Soul immortals within the sect.
——It must be my imagination…
Song Wenqing pulled back her thoughts and looked at the book she had just picked up from the ground. The style was ordinary, and there was nothing special about the other parts. The cover was dark blue, with a few pitch-black characters printed on it.
Moving a bit closer, she barely managed to deduce the name of the book from the shapes of the characters: Collection of Spiritual Flowers and Herbs.
This was currently the most comprehensive work on spiritual flowers and herbs in the cultivation world. In addition to covering the characteristics of the flowers and herbs, the contents also specifically detailed the matters needing attention when caring for them.
Song Wenqing gently stroked the book. The fine paper felt as cool and smooth as magic robes woven from ice silkworm silk.
She could roughly guess who had sent someone to deliver this, and her brows relaxed slightly, the pent-up frustration in her chest dissipating a lot.
Opening the pages, a folded piece of paper was tucked inside.
After unfolding it, Song Wenqing could not see the fine print on it, so she softly recited a incantation formula.
Immediately, a golden light flashed, and individual black characters floated into the air, instantly breaking apart into four pieces and disappearing without a trace like snow.
Not long after, a familiar voice sounded beside her ear. It was as gentle as usual, like a warm spring breeze in March softly brushing against a person’s cheeks.
“Junior Sister, your sword technique is too rigid and not soft enough, with too sharp an edge. If you encounter someone whose strength is inferior to yours, you can indeed break through with sheer force. However, if the person fighting you is slightly superior to you, it will be quite ominous! Being too rigid makes it prone to snapping and easily causes a backlash against yourself. I suppose this is the intention behind Master punishing you to tend the spiritual fields this time.”
“Both water and wood belong to the Dao of gentleness.”
“However, for Junior Sister, I think spiritual flowers and herbs are more suitable.”
“P.S.: Master’s intention is for Junior Sister to serve a full month. I have already greeted the person who cares for the spiritual fields there, and I hope they will take good care of you.”
Hearing this, Song Wenqing tilted her head slightly to look at Yan Zhu, who was standing not far away.
She had only seen her in this place, so she figured this person must be the “person who cares for the spiritual fields” mentioned in Senior Brother’s letter.
“There is a small cottage near the spiritual fields where you can live. Naturally, the conditions may not be entirely satisfactory. If you lack anything, feel free to write a letter and have a crane transmit it to me.”
As the final words fell, the letter paper instantly turned to ashes.
Song Wenqing looked up at the sky. The sun was blurred into a pale yellow circle in her vision, and at this moment, it was about to sink behind the peak of the small western mountain.
The light, not scorching at all, spilled over her cheeks, and even if she opened her palms, she could not touch any warmth.
Song Wenqing glanced at the restless flowers and herbs in the spiritual field, and walked toward the small cottage on the distant hill.
Seeing her walk away, Yan Zhu moved to follow her.
When she arrived, she found that the white-brick and green-tiled house in front of her had already been swept clean by the girl beside her using a spell, making it look exceptionally neat.
The cottage did not have excessive furnishings; there were only a table, chairs, and a small bed for a cultivator.
Yan Zhu spotted an untitled book. After flipping through it, she discovered it was a spiritual field maintenance log left behind by the previous owner of the cottage, ramblingly recording nearly ten thousand pages.
Starting from some unknown page, the author began to record events happening in their life near the end of the entries.
“Times are not peaceful lately; it is said that a demon has descended into the world…”
“Spirit pills have gone up in price again. The spirit stones I saved up with such difficulty are actually not even enough to buy a single Yellow-tier Foundation Establishment Pill…”
“Numerous elders of the sect used the teleportation array and went goodness knows where. Recently, even the spiritual flowers and herbs are in an abnormal state. Could it be that a catastrophe is truly descending?!”
“A drastic change in celestial phenomena!!!”
“Above the clouds, there seems to be a great battle between immortals and demons… Do not listen, do not look, do not ask…”
“Can the cultivation world truly not survive this calamity? Perilous! Alas!”
“We won! We won! Good, exceptionally good!!!”
“My mood is cheerful today, I should drink a great bowl of wine!”
“However, why haven’t I seen the elders return?”
“Lately, I cannot find my state in cultivation…”
“Everyone is saying that spiritual energy is depleting. Is the cultivation world really going to usher in the Dharma-ending age ten thousand years early?”
“Foundation Establishment stage… Why, why can I still not make a breakthrough?! Heavenly Dao, you are unfair! I am already past thirty, am I destined to be stuck at this stage for a lifetime?! No, I am not resigned, I am not resigned…”
“Still not working… Why, why is it still not working? I have clearly become a core disciple of the sect, cultivated with focused resources… Why…”
“It turns out that what I have been in contact with all along were only Earth-tier cultivation methods, and all the Heaven-tier cultivation methods vanished along with the elders who died in battle… So this is… Alas!”
“Am I… going to die just like this?”
“Foundation Establishment stage… thirty years… hahahahahahahahaha…”
“The human race is going to perish.”
“Immortals are merely humans; cultivating the path without cultivating the mind.”
“…What shall future generations do?”
It finally ended with this sentence.
A young man full of ambition, a middle-aged cultivator struggling tenaciously with unwillingness, a hopeless old man carrying a heart full of regrets… He was one person, and also the epitome of countless people who experienced that great battle and witnessed the cultivation world decline from its peak.
How did he leave? Did he gaze at the solitary moon outside the window for a long time waiting for death to arrive, or was he buried on a journey searching for a way to break through? Did he harbor intense unwillingness, unconquerable despair, or a heart overflowing with worry? For future generations, or for the cultivation world hereafter?
Yan Zhu flipped to the very last page. She only knew that even the handwriting on the final page was extremely neat and serious.
The moon rose at some unknown time, and its cold light shone on the wooden table, plating it with a layer of shifting silver.
As if crossing a millennium, Yan Zhu seemed to be able to see the white-haired elder holding a brush under the moonlight, leaving the final stroke on the book she was holding in her hands at this moment.
“…What shall future generations do?”
Death was approaching from behind him, and the aura of decay was about to invade this small space. An ink dot fell onto the white paper, and he was questioning the “future.”
What does the future look like?
Yan Zhu raised her head to look at the moon in the sky, let out a breath, and carefully closed the book to put it back.
This world, which she ought to have been familiar with, suddenly became very unfamiliar in an instant.
The battle between immortals and demons was nothing more than four casually typed characters.
While she was browsing the book left behind by the previous owner of the house, Song Wenqing paid her no mind.
The girl sat cross-legged on the bed, circulating her cultivation method, repeatedly hammering her meridians and refining her spiritual energy.
Half a year after entering the sect, Song Wenqing had already cultivated to the Foundation Establishment stage.
And as early as three years ago, she had shown signs of breaking through to the Golden Core stage, only to be reprimarded by her Master.
“Being anxious for quick success is not a good thing; Master is doing this for your own good as well.”
Her eldest brother, who was gentle to everyone, had advised her this way.
“Moreover, once a cultivator reaches the Golden Core stage, their physical state will remain frozen at that moment forever. If Junior Sister wants to grow taller… you must have a bit more patience and wait.”
“I understand, Senior Brother.”
Song Wenqing was no fool; she knew why she was vaguely ostracized by other disciples.
In fact, she only needed to stop pretending, only needed to show her true situation, and everything would reverse.
“The tall tree stands out in the forest, and the wind will surely break it.”
“Cultivating the mind is also an indispensable part of cultivating the Dao.”
“Only by enduring humiliation can one carry a heavy burden.”
These were the words Master had spoken to her.
Song Wenqing believed in Master, believing that what Master wanted her to do must be for her own good. Swallowing the unwillingness in her heart, she closed her eyes, pressed her lips together tightly, and acted as a dull and silent “fool” in the outside world.
After running the spiritual energy for a minor heavenly cycle, Song Wenqing exhaled a breath of stale air, and the moon outside the window was captured right into her eyes.
“You seem… to be injured…”
That person sat by the table, her entire body shrouded in moonlight.
A scene suddenly flashed through Song Wenqing’s mind, but before she could catch it, she had already forgotten it.
Following the direction pointed by the other party’s fingertips, Song Wenqing saw an unvanished bruise on the inner side of her own wrist.
“Do you need me to help you deal with it? I have studied some…”
That strange feeling came again, but unfortunately, she still failed to grasp it.
“No need.”
Before her voice had lost its childishness, it was deliberately cloaked in coldness by its owner, as if she thought this could achieve some sort of deterrent effect.
Yan Zhu looked at that expressionless little face, laughed inwardly, and suddenly developed a desire to tease her.
“Then… would you like me to sing you to sleep?”
Song Wenqing was stunned for a moment.
“What?!”