“…became the steps… turns into soil… serves as firewood…”
Ethereal, chanted verses, clamorous laughter, and faint tearing sounds in the air pierced Cong Jingyue’s ears simultaneously.
She opened her eyes in a daze, only to see festive lanterns, colorful banners, and a shower of brilliant fireworks cascading like rain everywhere.
She was currently standing in the middle of a main street inside a massive city.
Vendors along the street called out, selling sweet smelling, deep-red bean cakes. A young child with tied hair bun pigtails ran past holding a golden sugar painting, nearly tripping over a stone step out of sheer excitement.
“Be careful,” Cong Jingyue reached out to steady her. She inadvertently brushed against some melting sugar syrup, leaving her palm unusually sticky.
“Thank you, Big Sister!” The child smiled brightly, her mouth stretching almost from ear to ear.
She stuffed the dripping sugar painting into Cong Jingyue’s hand and ran off toward her playmates, her voice crisp and clear: “Big Sister, this is for you!”
Before Cong Jingyue could give it back, she was left holding the bamboo stick, surveying her surroundings amid the rich, appetizing aroma of roasting meat and wine, trying to figure out where and when she was.
Everyone was laughing and singing, today was clearly a good day.
Was it… really?
As if a stray spark had accidentally landed on her forehead, her soul residing within was instantly set ablaze like dry straw.
Staggering from the searing pain of this invisible fire, the vivid lantern lights before her eyes twisted and spun out of control. The boisterous laughter in her ears sank into a low, raspy moan.
In an instant, the world went completely dark, then suddenly turned bright again.
Her fingertips were as sticky as before. Cong Jingyue steadied her posture, using the red glow of the fireworks above to look closely at the “syrup” in her palm, dark red, viscous, warm, and giving off a sweet, coppery stench that triggered an instinctive fear.
That was no sugar painting! It was a severed hand, gushing blood profusely!
Cong Jingyue released her grip abruptly and snapped her head up. The heavens and earth instantly faded, resembling an exquisite, thousand-year-old silk painting suddenly falling apart, bright patches of pigment flaking off to reveal a grey, decayed background.
A sickening stench of rot flooded her lungs. The deep-red bean cakes at the edge of her vision were actually human hearts, livers, spleens, and lungs. The street vendor, who had been shouting enthusiastically just moments before, was now lifeless, opening her heart and soul to everyone.
What she was selling was her own internal organs.
“Look at the fireworks!” A childish voice piped up. Cong Jingyue turned back toward the sound. The little girl from earlier still wore that exaggerated smile, exposing her stark white teeth, using a short blade to slice open one side of her own neck!
Clear, bright blood spurted into the air, joining the crimson streams shooting out from countless wounds across the crowd to paint the monotonous night sky.
Splatters of red fought their way to the highest point before dropping and scattering, forming a boundless, eternal firework display blooming across the heavens.
Beneath this still-tepid “fireworks” display, the eyes of the crowd lost focus. Throwing back their heads and raising their arms, they chanted at the top of their lungs toward a single direction:
“Bones serve as steps, flesh turns into soil, blood serves as firewood!”
“Open the Heavenly Gates, invite the gods to descend!”
The destination of every gaze was a three-legged gigantic cauldron built entirely from piled flesh and blood. A figure floated right in front of it, surrounded by swirls of dark, eerie mist.
Directly beneath that person, the heads of two others suddenly exploded, and all the scattered flesh and blood were sucked into the chaotic phantom above!
Moments later, the phantom expanded slightly and lunged toward the dazed crowd around it.
I have to escape!
Suppressing her panic, Cong Jingyue mustered every ounce of strength to scramble backward. But the pool of blood beneath her feet seemed to sprout countless hands, dragging her down and checking her steps.
The chanting around her suddenly shifted in tone, at times ear-splittingly shrill, at times deep and raspy, sounding like countless people across the ages wailing in madness together:
“I see you. I see you. I see you. I see you. I see you. I see you. I see you.”
At the same time, the figure standing before the cauldron of flesh and blood slowly, mechanically twisted its head around half a circle, facing directly toward Cong Jingyue.
If that could even be called a “face.”
On that featureless slab of skin, a single crack slowly opened. What lurked behind was not human lips or tongue, but innumerable blood-red eyes opening simultaneously, layered and endless in size.
They stared at her inhumanly, entirely devoid of emotion.
“Thou…”
The call sounded impossibly faint, as though originating from the end of the universe.
“What a pity…”
As her consciousness wavered, Cong Jingyue saw from afar the figure form a hand seal. A ominous sword wrapped in dark mist cut through the void, carrying an indescribable emptiness and chaos, thrusting straight toward the center of her forehead!
She couldn’t move, couldn’t dodge, guaranteed death.
Her soul scorched with pain once more. In the split second before the blade’s tip pierced her forehead, Cong Jingyue suddenly felt weightless.
She fell out of the illusion.
In the span of a single breath, the air was no longer foul and coppery, replaced instead by the crisp, cool scent of mountain vegetation.
Cong Jingyue fell to her knees, her hands trembling involuntarily. Propping up her weakened upper body with effort, she forced herself to organize everything she knew so far.
A month ago, she had woken up at the edge of a vast expanse of water, dizzy and exhausted. To make matters worse, she couldn’t remember a single thing about her past.
What was her name? Where was her home? Did she have any family or friends?
Just as she was feeling lost, a group of immortal sect disciples happened to pass by. The leader was warm and approachable, introducing himself as Yue Tongxiu, the senior disciple of the Guiyuan Sect. He explained to her that the endless water in front of them was the Guixu Sea.
The waters of Guixu were bone-chillingly frigid. Mortals unable to channel qi would be frozen solid within a hundred miles of its shores. Normal cultivators below the Nascent Soul realm couldn’t even approach the edge, and only great cultivators above the Nascent Soul realm could step into the water for a brief moment.
Yet Cong Jingyue had been lying unconscious right there and woke up completely unharmed, which meant she undoubtedly possessed extraordinary immortal affinity.
The senior disciple held high hopes for her potential and was curious about her origin. He brought her back with them, intending to explain the situation to his master, help her trace her background, or have her take the entrance trial to join the sect as his junior sister.
Today, Cong Jingyue had finally reached the grand mountain gate with them. Looking back, there were ordinary people stretching out for ten miles, seeking the immortal path, looking forward, towering peaks cut straight into the clouds.
Standing before such a scene, the confusion that had lingered in her mind for days dissolved like morning mist swept away by a sharp spring breeze, leaving behind only a spark of youthful ambition rising alongside the boundless dawn.
The road behind was dim, the road ahead long and distant, starting today, she would surpass it all.
Whether she could discover her origin remained unknown, but the entrance trial to select disciples occurred only once a decade, missing this chance meant waiting another ten years.
After weighing her options, Cong Jingyue decided to take things as they came. She gave herself a new name, temporarily said goodbye to Yue Tongxiu and the others, and stepped through the grand mountain gates alongside the surging crowd.
She couldn’t place all her hopes on others, she had to rely on herself, pass the trial, and secure a place in the sect first.
The very first test of the sect’s entrance trial was the Heart-Interrogation Illusion Array. Before knocking on the doors of the Dao, everyone had to face and conquer the deepest fears hidden within their memories before having their spiritual roots evaluated.
Clearly, Cong Jingyue had failed this test.
Then again, no one in this world, whether emperors, generals, or common folk, could easily emerge unscathed after witnessing such a horrifying scene.
“Benefactor, are you alright?” A inspecting disciple nearby noticed her pale face and asked with a touch of concern.
Cong Jingyue snapped out of her thoughts, casually wiped the cold sweat from the tip of her nose, and forced a natural smile: “I’m fine. Thank you, Immortal.”
She feigned casual curiosity and asked, “Immortal, does everyone see the exact same scene in this illusion array?”
“Of course not.” The disciple’s worry eased slightly as he looked at her with a hint of surprise.
When ordinary people failed to break the illusion, they usually beat their chests, stamped their feet, or hung their heads in utter despondency. Their mental state and reasons for failure would be fully laid bare at that moment.
Yet someone who was dripping with cold sweat but still wore a smile, casually chatting with the supervising disciple, was likely the only one among hundreds of thousands of applicants across three trials in twenty years.
If her mental fortitude was so strong, why hadn’t she broken through the illusion?
The disciple was secretly puzzled, but out of increased patience, he explained to her: “The illusions are drawn entirely from the real memories stored deep within each person’s soul.”
The smile remained on Cong Jingyue’s lips, but her heart turned completely cold.
The very first piece of memory she had recovered was one of flying flesh, dripping blood, unyielding despair, and endless wailing.
That person had slaughtered an entire city.
An entire city emptied of its blood and tears, that couldn’t possibly be a small event in this world.
Seeing that the disciple seemed kind-hearted, Cong Jingyue took the opportunity to look down at the dense crowd beneath the mountain gate, choosing her words carefully to probe: “So many people came to try out today. Immortal, is it because things haven’t been very peaceful in recent years?”
Perhaps bored from monitoring the exam, the disciple took the bait: “You can say that again. The City of Eternal Fire that stood for a hundred years, the Qingfeng Pass of the Thousand-Year Meteor, and the Changsheng Mountain of Ten Thousand Years’ Blessed Land…”
“All three places had long histories, but who could have guessed they would fall one after another…” He let out a heavy sigh, unable to bring himself to continue. He turned to Cong Jingyue and reminded her, “Benefactor, after going down the mountain, you had better temporarily settle in Huaizhou City and refrain from wandering around.”
Huaizhou City sat at the foot of the Guiyuan Sect’s mountain, a city where mortals and cultivators lived together under the protection of the Guiyuan Sect. The disciple’s kindly advice clearly stemmed from a deep belief that his own sect could protect the realm.
As Cong Jingyue nodded, she silently repeated those three placenames, the City of Eternal Fire, Qingfeng Pass, and Changsheng Mountain.
It seemed she hailed from one of those three places.
Which one was it?
Cong Jingyue wanted to inquire further, but the young disciple finally remembered his duty. He waved his hand toward her and politely asked her to leave: “Benefactor, right this way.”
It wasn’t wise to press further. Doing so might draw unnecessary attention, revealing her identity as a survivor of one of those massacres before she knew anything.
Cong Jingyue kept her smile and responded smoothly, looking calm on the surface while repressing her lingering dread. Before standing up, she pondered the most important matter at hand.
Currently, she was the only one who knew about the illusion’s memory, the only one who realized she was a survivor of that catastrophe.
She didn’t know where she belonged, nor did she know who the murderer was, whether they had been brought to justice, or where they were hiding, waiting to track her down and weed her out.
She was like someone trapped in the dark of night, no moon, no stars, no lamps, no candles. She couldn’t see the thorns, nor could she predict the killing intent.
In such a situation, how should she carry herself?
Should she grow despondent and just drag out an existence? Should she deceive herself into pretending everything was fine? Or should she brave all hardships and struggle to survive?
As her fingertips touched the fresh spring grass, Cong Jingyue guessed that before losing her memory, she must have been someone with quite a bit of drive. How else could she explain why only a single thought filled her mind right now,
She refused to believe there was only a dead end ahead of her.
Even if she couldn’t join the Guiyuan Sect, she could still try her luck at other sects’ entrance trials. Even if she couldn’t become a cultivator, she would put down roots and make a living in the mortal realm.
She was going to feel her way forward and live.
While Cong Jingyue was shifting her mindset, resolved to seek another path, she caught a glimpse of an almost imperceptible white light flashing before her eyes as she stood up!
In the blink of an eye, what felt like a snowflake shot into the center of her forehead with thunderous speed!
Unlike the searing pain in the illusion, this was a sense of fulfillment that made her very soul feel blissful.
The next instant, a fierce gust of wind swept past her side. Amidst the gasps of onlookers, two massive beast paws pounced forward violently, pinning her flat onto her back on the ground.
Standing right over her was a white-browed, black-striped, killer tiger!
The white tiger opened its bloody maw, exposing its sharp teeth, but it merely sniffed around. As if confirming a familiar scent, it unexpectedly began using its massive, furry forehead to passionately nuzzle against Cong Jingyue’s cheek.
A deafening purr rumbled from its throat, nearly shattering Cong Jingyue’s eardrums.
“Insolent!”
A low, raspy voice tinged with mild annoyance echoed from afar.
In the time it took for the white tiger to purr twice, a figure rode the wind and landed beside them. Reaching out a pale, slender hand to grab the tiger’s scruff, she actually lifted the massive beast halfway off the ground.
Perhaps because its neck scruff had been pinched, the white tiger shrank in size, curling up its four paws involuntarily. It became as obedient as a newborn kitten, lacking even a trace of the fiery passion it had displayed just a moment ago.
Except for its tail, which was still wrapped tightly around Cong Jingyue’s wrist.
“Let go of, ” The person holding the white tiger by the neck stopped to correct her phrasing, pausing for a moment to find the right word, “, the tail!”
The white tiger let out two low “awoo”s, reluctantly letting go of its tail, swinging it forcefully back and forth to create a gust of wind as a strong protest.
The person ignored it entirely, simply bending down slowly, closing the distance between herself and Cong Jingyue bit by bit.
A vermilion skirt spilled across the green grass, and clear blue earrings chimed crisp like bells.
The newcomer had hair black as ink, skin fairer than snow, and lips red as cinnabar. It was a face of enchanting, seductive beauty, yet her eyes seemed to hold swirling frost and snow, allowing three parts of pure elegance to rival seven parts of stunning glamour.
She was like ten thousand camellias blooming proudly in the middle of a heavy snowfall, vibrant yet desolate.
As the space between them grew impossibly narrow and intimate, Cong Jingyue looked directly into her eyes. She realized that although the gaze enveloping her was as lingering as lovers kissing, it wasn’t flirty, nor was it mockingly frivolous.
It looked just like someone gazing upon the single spray of magnolia they had fallen head over heels for in their youth.
“Immortal,” Cong Jingyue’s cheeks flushed as their breaths nearly intertwined. Looking back at her, she asked in confusion, “Do we… know each other?”
The person’s gaze froze. A single teardrop seemed to pool at the edge of her eye, hanging there without falling.
The corners of her eyes tilted upward slightly, but her long eyelashes drooped down. After a moment of silence, she extended her other hand toward Cong Jingyue. Her steady voice held a faint tremble at the end, like thin ice on a lake breaking crisp under the very first ray of spring light.
“Benefactor, would you be willing to take me as your master?”