Thanks to Ruan Xiuzhen’s guarantee, Shu Yang finally stepped out of the Dragon Palace.
Ruan Wei wanted to make a scene, but he was ultimately suppressed by Ruan Xiuzhen, whose cultivation level was five hundred years superior to his own. In the end, he compromised, albeit very reluctantly.
Shu Yang had important tasks to attend to and no time for Ruan Wei’s substitute lover theatrics. After decisively bidding farewell to Ruan Xiuzhen, he headed straight north. Before leaving, he entrusted the cub to Ruan Xiuzhen, asking her to look after it well.
As he walked away, Shu Yang looked back and saw the cub nestled in Ruan Xiuzhen’s arms, watching him with teary eyes. Its round pupils were brimming with sorrow, looking like beads washed clean by rain, ready to spill over at the slightest provocation. Shu Yang hesitated for a moment, but ultimately turned and walked away.
Shu Yang had previously cultivated the Way of Supreme Forgetfulness; he was accustomed to freedom and had never felt sentimental about departures. Thus, he did not dwell on separating from the cub. After all, they were not related, and bringing the cub along would only add unnecessary trouble.
He believed himself to be the same cold-hearted Shu Yang he had always been. He did not realize that by proactively considering the cub’s well-being, rather than forcibly taking it along for its merit and subjecting it to a life of hardship, something within him had already quietly changed.
However, he had yet to reach enlightenment.
He traveled north, feeling increasingly unsettled the further he went. Leaving behind the high-altitude Xuanling State and entering the low-lying region of Qingchuan, the territory governed by the Phoenix clan, the stark contrast was shocking.
The paulownia trees where the Phoenix clan once roosted had been completely shattered by the waters of the Heavenly River. Everywhere were vast expanses of floodwater; the sky was dark and gloomy, casting a gray, tragic pallor over the land, accompanied by the shrill cries of crows.
In the distance, creatures, whether demons or monsters, lurked in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to swallow any human they could find. Shu Yang knew that the moment he stepped onto the soil of Qingchuan, countless eyes had fixed upon him.
The Heavenly River had flooded the mortal world because the Mirror of Qinsui had shattered. And the mirror had shattered precisely because the stars Tianchu and Xuanji had fallen, creating breaches in the fabric of the heavens. Shu Yang needed to find his emotional root as soon as possible. More importantly, he had to retrieve those fallen stars and return them to the sky. Only then could the broken heavens be mended, stopping the deluge of the Heavenly River.
But where could he find those scattered stars?
Shu Yang struck his flint; the orange-gold glow illuminated his gentle, refined features. A dark shadow seemed to tentatively reach toward him, but it was repelled by the firelight and forced back into the depths of the woods, where it continued to watch him, waiting for an opening.
It was a Sui.
There were Sui here.
Shu Yang looked at the refugees and victims lying around him and quickly understood where the Sui had come from. A Sui is generated by human resentment; it consumes the host, eventually becoming a monster with no consciousness of its own, dedicated only to devouring human flesh.
Looking at their hollow eyes and the desperate expressions of those on the brink of death, one could see with the naked eye the black mist rising from their bodies. It was easy to imagine that before long, these victims would be consumed by their own resentment and transform into Sui, monsters without emotion or consciousness, driven only to destroy everything.
Should I kill them all? Shu Yang wondered.
Sui feared light and fire, but if one were plunged into darkness, one would inevitably collide with them. Once they latched onto you like a maggot in the bone, they would never let go. Shu Yang looked up, guiding the spiritual energy from his fingertips into the flame, and incinerated a fully formed Sui in the distance.
But resentment was inexhaustible. As long as people suffered, the Sui would multiply, and more people would become monsters. The Sui were endless, but Shu Yang’s spiritual energy was not. He soon felt a wave of exhaustion and lowered his eyes, letting the faint flame dance on his palm.
He did not have the time to wear himself out against these Sui. He had to find a way to break through their encirclement, cross the ocean of floodwater, and reach Mu Xi City, the Phoenix clan’s last stronghold, to retrieve the lost stars.
Thinking of this, Shu Yang stood up again. As a star, his very presence radiated an inextinguishable light. Even without his flint, he could disperse the Sui and carve a path. The real question was how he would cross this sea of floodwater.
Just as Shu Yang considered burning all the Sui in the vicinity to ashes before attempting a slow crossing, one of the refugees surrounding him clutched his own throat. His withered, skeletal hands scratched violently at his skin as he struggled. In an instant, his skin withered further, his pupils lost their luster, his torso turned into a brittle branch, and he slowly transformed into a half-formed Sui.
Following his sudden madness, the surrounding refugees simultaneously began to show signs of instability. Their human emotions and vitality were absorbed completely, leaving only skin and bone. Their mouths cracked open, their eye sockets sank, their pupils protruded, and their sclerae turned a deathly, ashen gray. They stared at Shu Yang with identical, emotionless expressions.
No, someone is manipulating the Sui!
Shu Yang’s face changed dramatically. He leaped into the air, joined the index and middle fingers of his right hand, and summoned the fire of the stars, intending to burn the monsters to ash.
But to his shock, the Starfire flickered and bounced off them, failing to harm them in the slightest.
What is going on?!
Shu Yang widened his eyes. He looked ahead and discovered that while these Sui were moving like zombies, their withered eyes seemed to harbor sorrow, despair, and a faint hint of struggle. They had not yet fully transformed into Sui; they still retained a thread of humanity.
His Starfire could not harm them because they were still human, not yet fully transformed into Sui. The Heavenly Dao would not allow Shu Yang to burn them alive; instead, it demanded he find a way to save them.
Save them?!
Shu Yang struggled to dodge the attacks of the Sui while thinking through gritted teeth: From the moment I stepped onto the path of cultivation, I have only ever killed people, never saved anyone! Since I cannot kill them, and I do not know how to save them, what am I supposed to do?!
Just as Shu Yang found himself at an impasse, a low dragon’s roar echoed in his ears. It vibrated against his eardrums, possessing a kingly majesty. Shu Yang froze and jerked his head up. A snow-white silver dragon was weaving through the dark woods, its scales glowing with a faint blue light. With unstoppable momentum, it crashed into the Sui that were closing in on Shu Yang, flinging them to the edge of the forest.
Shu Yang: “…”
It was Ruan Wei.
He had not expected Ruan Wei to appear here. Ruan Wei’s movements were noticeably stiff; caught off guard, he was bitten on the shoulder by a Sui that emerged from behind.
“Ugh…”
The Sui’s resentment instantly latched onto his skin and bones, a chilling, icy sensation drilling into his marrow and lungs. In that instant, for reasons unknown, Shu Yang remembered a childhood incident from his time as a beggar: he had finally managed to buy a steamed bun, only for it to be snatched away by a rich nobleman’s dog.
He had been so young, with no strength to resist. Not only had the nobleman lashed him with a rope, but the dog had bitten his wrist, and a servant had crushed his foot. In the freezing winter, he had crawled back to the ruined temple where he hid. He remembered his hand had been frostbitten and rotting, the skin falling away to reveal raw flesh. The pain had been so severe he had to bite down on his molars just to endure it.
He had many things he hated and resented, but for some reason, the moment that icy resentment coiled around his body, that was the only memory that surfaced.
“Hey! Hey!”
Through a blur of consciousness, Shu Yang felt someone shouting his name. He thought he had lost all ability to act, lying rigid on the ground. He did not know that he had already been controlled by the resentment, his eyes glowing red as he lunged forward and bit down hard on Ruan Wei’s shoulder.
Fortunately, Ruan Wei’s dragon scales offered protection, preventing the resentment from seeping through Shu Yang’s teeth into his heart and lungs. However, the bite was still agonizing. Ruan Wei suppressed a cry of pain, reached out, and used his dragon breath to freeze the surrounding Sui to the ground. Then, sweeping Shu Yang into his arms, he carried him up into a tree.
The land was completely flooded. Ruan Wei searched until he found a ruined temple on high ground where they could rest. Shu Yang’s consciousness was largely under the control of the resentment. Ruan Wei was forced to press on his acupoints to keep him still, channeling his energy to forcibly draw the resentment out of Shu Yang’s body.
But he had not expected that this action would not only fail to expel the resentment but would instead drag himself into the illusion created by Shu Yang’s own inner darkness.
The horror of the Sui lay in how they consumed people: they used resentment to manifest illusions, luring the victim into drowning in a dream until they became a mindless Sui. Ruan Wei was still young and underestimated the danger. He was dragged directly into the illusion shaped by Shu Yang’s resentment.
The moment he was forcibly pulled into the nightmare, Ruan Wei’s vision went black. When he opened his eyes again, he was met with a landscape of ice and snow.
He was an Ice Dragon and did not fear the cold, but for some reason, he could not help but shiver. Ruan Wei felt strange. He pushed himself up with his palms, sat slowly, and looked around.
Around him were hawkers and merchants, carriages passing by on the bustling street, the sound of hoofbeats and human voices creating a lively atmosphere.
Where am I?
Before Ruan Wei could react, a young, immature voice interrupted his thoughts, demanding his attention: “Who are you?”
The voice was tender, but filled with extreme vigilance: “Are you here to steal my spot?”
“…” Ruan Wei turned his head slowly and saw a dirty little child crouching beside him, clutching a steamed bun tightly in his hand, tilting his head to look at him: “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“I…” Ruan Wei looked at the familiar-looking child, blinked, and asked in confusion: “Cub?”
He asked: “How did you get here? Aren’t you supposed to be in the Dragon Palace?”