Armed with Yan Mingqiu’s strict directive, Hanzhou dared not slack off any further, completing the entire demolition project right on schedule within three days. The real Zhu Zhuxia wrapped up his assigned duties and returned to Canglang Peak, while the fake Zhu Zhuxia—Hanzhou swallowed a concealment pill to hide inside the room.
The concealment pill not only masked Hanzhou’s aura but rendered his physical form completely invisible as well. Consequently, when Yan Mingqiu pushed open the door and stepped inside, he remained entirely unaware of Hanzhou’s presence.
Rubbing his hands together with his eyes gleaming with excitement, Yan Mingqiu murmured, “Excellent, they’re all mine now.”
Enlarging the storage pouch at his waist until it ballooned to the size of a hemp sack, he held the mouth gaping wide open against the floor.
“Let’s start with these chair legs.” Kneeling down on one knee, Yan Mingqiu began prying out the precious gems embedded in the furniture legs.
Hanzhou: “…”
Bouncing excitedly around the room like a hyperactive child, Yan Mingqiu spent two full days stripping every single valuable decorative item from the entire chamber and stuffing them into his storage pouch.
Hoisting the heavily laden storage pouch, he beamed with radiant satisfaction. “It’s about time to upgrade my natal sword. Once we return from the Eastern Sea, I’ll send my Yunling Sword down to the Profound Artifact Sect for thorough tempering. Honestly… that night actually felt quite worth it in hindsight…”
A buoyant, blissful warmth filled Yan Mingqiu’s chest, entirely oblivious to the increasingly bizarre expression on the face of the person trailing closely behind him.
Though Hanzhou possessed all the memories of the original owner, the original owner had been heavily drugged that fateful night, leaving his consciousness blurred and his recollections fragmented, preserving vivid impressions only of the initial encounter and the final moments.
It had been an agonizingly intoxicating sensation that dug deep into the bone, leaving one utterly incapable of extricating themselves.
Hanzhou’s gaze slowly drifted downward.
Suddenly, a creeping chill swept across Yan Mingqiu’s back. Instinctively throwing both hands behind him to protect his backside, he quickened his pace and bolted out of the room.
Snapping back to reality and realizing the direction his thoughts had drifted, Hanzhou abruptly raised a hand and delivered a sharp slap straight across his own face.
What kind of trashy, depraved fertilizer is my brain marinating in right now? Utterly devoid of moral integrity!
Desperate to slap some sense back into himself, the sudden, sharp sound echoed with unnatural, eerie clarity in the silent air.
Startled by the noise, Yan Mingqiu froze dead in his tracks, locked in an internal debate over whether to turn around. Every time he attempted to twist his neck even a fraction of an inch, he whipped it right back to its original position.
“I didn’t look, so nothing ever happened. I must have just misheard things.” Clinging desperately to a rational explanation, Yan Mingqiu successfully brainwashed himself before sprinting away like a streak of lightning.
For the remainder of the journey, Yan Mingqiu kept himself safely locked inside his quarters, counting his newly acquired treasures and occasionally stealing away to consult Senior Brothers Fang Huai and Pei Huai regarding the military campaign’s progress.
Finally, the day of deployment arrived. Leading an armada of three thousand disciples and ten thousand logistics personnel, the three leaders boarded their respective flying warships and set a course toward the Eastern Sea.
Hanzhou, wearing Zhu Zhuxia’s face, mingled invisibly within the logistics ranks.
Of the three leading warships, Yan Mingqiu, Fang Huai, and Pei Huai each commanded one, while the countless vessels trailing behind them served to transport the rank-and-file disciples.
Though the warships piloted by Yan Mingqiu, Fang Huai, and Pei Huai possessed the speed to traverse a thousand miles in a single day, tactical coordination forced them to throttle their speed to match the main fleet. Traveling from Qingyuan Mountain to the Eastern Sea required a full twenty-four hours aboard standard vessels.
As night fell, Hanzhou spent a handful of spiritual stones to successfully secure a logistics assignment delivering wine directly to Yan Mingqiu.
He intended to use tonight’s opportunity to ascertain whether Immortal Yunling truly was the person he was searching for.
“Immortal Yunling.” Stepping aboard the warship, Hanzhou spotted Yan Mingqiu lounging in a reclining chair on the deck and bowed respectfully.
“Oh, it’s you, Zhu Zhuxia.” Lifting his eyelids, Yan Mingqiu glanced at the tray Hanzhou carried, which held two flasks of wine and three small side dishes. “Ah, that must be my sweet-scented osmanthus wine come, set it down right here.”
Yan Mingqiu gestured toward the small table beside his lounge chair.
“Yes, Immortal.” Acknowledging the order, Hanzhou placed the wine and side dishes on the table, then stood quietly to the side with the empty tray in hand.
He watched as Yan Mingqiu entertained himself, slowly polishing off an entire flask of wine. Soon enough, the alcohol went to his head alongside a colorless, odorless Truth-Compelling Pill that Hanzhou had channeled into the liquor using spiritual energy along the way.
“Why is this osmanthus wine so intoxicating today?” Staggering unsteadily to his feet, Yan Mingqiu muttered, “Come… help me inside to rest.”
Overwhelmed by a sudden, violent wave of dizziness that rendered him completely unable to stand, Yan Mingqiu collapsed forward directly into a warm embrace.
A soft voice murmured right beside his ear: “Mingqiu, are you the Yan Mingqiu from Yucang Peak on Qiwang Mountain?”
Half-asleep and half-awake, Yan Mingqiu mumbled, “I am not.”
“Then who are you?”
“I don’t know who I am. I lost my memories—they tell me I’m Immortal Yunling.”
“Lost your memories? When did you lose them?”
“On the fifth of this month. I returned from the dead, waking up inside a coffin, and forgot everything that happened before.”
“Then do you still remember that night when your disciple committed patricide against you?”
“I’ve seen it in dreams… I only remember that it hurt so much.”
“Were the two of you drugged? Do you know who administered the poison?”
“I don’t know… my head hurts so badly.” Whimpering miserably, Yan Mingqiu buried his forehead against Hanzhou’s chest.
After gently patting the crown of Yan Mingqiu’s head, Hanzhou channeled a subtle Sleep-Inducing Technique, allowing Yan Mingqiu to drift into a deep, peaceful slumber.
At last, Hanzhou felt certain: Immortal Yunling was indeed his Mingqiu. After all, the fifth of this month marked the exact date he and Mingqiu had plunged into this dream realm together.
Having located Mingqiu, the next objective was figuring out how to pull him safely back out of the dream.
Dreams typically materialized from a cultivator’s lingering, unfulfilled obsession at death’s door; escaping required resolving the dream creator’s core fixation/obsession.
Hanzhou’s mind flashed back to the clues he had pondered since entering the secret realm.
That obscure historical secret he had once stumbled upon in the Heavenly Sword Sect’s library recorded an ancient tragedy spanning mere sentences. Because the characters shared his exact name, he had read through it with exceptional care, leaving certain segments permanently etched in his memory.
‘Immortal Yunling was tormented and driven to death by his rebellious disciple Hanzhou. Twenty days later, Sect Master Pei Huai and Canglang Immortal Fang Huai led thirty thousand disciples to lay siege to the Eastern Sea, demanding accountability, whereupon Hanzhou appeared alone and, upon confirming Immortal Yunling’s actual demise, committed suicide before the multitudes.’
Now, he could confirm that everything unfolding within this dream realm mirrored that historical tragedy, and the creator of the dream was none other than the Eastern Sea Dragon Prince, Hanzhou.
Hanzhou deduced that the original owner’s obsession stemmed from a desperate desire to clear his name, or perhaps simply to achieve a genuine, unhindered romance with his master.
Possessing the original owner’s memories gave him profound insight into the depth of affection the original owner harbored toward Immortal Yunling; constrained by rigid hierarchical boundaries between master and disciple, however, the original owner had buried those feelings deep within, never daring to voice them aloud.
He had foolishly imagined he could quietly spend his entire life safeguarding their master-disciple relationship as the highest privilege imaginable never anticipating that a single poisoned night would sever life from death forever.
Dawn would break soon, bringing the fleet’s arrival at the Eastern Sea, yet Hanzhou remained utterly in the dark regarding who had actually spiked their drinks. Racking his brains, only a single option remained: the Retrospective Curse.
A Retrospective Curse allowed one to rewind memories back into the past, tracing the origin of events to uncover the unvarnished truth of what transpired.
However, possessing merely a foundation-stage vessel with underdeveloped divine consciousness meant casting a Retrospective Curse would inevitably overextend his mental faculties, causing severe spiritual exhaustion that would instantly shatter his Zhu Zhuxia disguise and expose his true identity.
The remaining warships were densely packed with personnel, offering no truly secure sanctuary. Since Yan Mingqiu was currently fast asleep and unlikely to wake anytime soon, Hanzhou decided to cast the Retrospective Curse right here, dragging his consciousness back to that fateful day.
Resolving his course of action, Hanzhou located an empty cabin, settled into a meditative cross-legged posture, chanted the ancient incantation, and executed the hand seals, driving his consciousness backward in time to that fateful night.