As the boat entered Fanzhou, the spiritual energy waned. To cultivators, the world seemed to fall into stillness. The vessel sailed upstream, swiftly passing countless mountains.
“The Way of Heaven is indestructible… The Way cannot be destroyed!”
The thunderous voice in his mind suddenly vanished. Ying Zewei opened his eyes in the cabin, his gray pupils unfocused for a long while. He intended to go to the bow to clear his mind, unaware someone was already there.
“Having just experienced the heart-questioning thunder strike, even with your superior physique and the Vermilion Emperor’s demon heart, you should know excessive drinking is harmful,” Nan Rao said, leaning against the bow.
She had been drinking alone under the moonlight. Seeing him approach, she poured another cup and offered it to him.
“There are ways to heal the body, but my wine is for healing the heart,” Ying Zewei replied, noticing traces of tears at the corners of her eyes. He hesitated to take the cup.
“Why so hesitant? Afraid I’ll eat you?” Nan Rao didn’t insist, finishing the cup herself. “I forgot, you don’t drink much.”
Inexplicably, Ying Zewei asked, “Are you truly this heartbroken over your fate with the Dragon Lord?”
Nan Rao gently wiped her eyes, smiling, “Don’t tell Ao Guanghan that.”
“I spoke out of turn,” Ying Zewei said, taking the cup she had initially offered. The wine, typically fiery, carried a hint of coolness—as clear and gentle as moonlight.
“Cicada Dew Sorrow… Why is it called that?” he inquired.
“It’s been centuries; I don’t remember,” Nan Rao replied, tapping her forehead. “I only recall brewing it with epiphyllum from your garden when I was studying… Don’t worry, epiphyllum isn’t suitable for wine. I force-fed the sour batches to Ao Guanghan and only gave you the good ones. But you’re so indifferent—you never used it for guests, and I never knew if you drank it. I felt too embarrassed to give you more.”
She might have forgotten, but that year, he had gone to listen to the Dao Master’s lecture. She had come to apologize with wine, and after waiting impatiently, drank herself into a stupor. When he returned, he found her passed out among the flowers.
Perhaps she had feelings then, always deserving the best in the world, unwilling to let good moments pass. But when she received no response, she let go faster than anyone, leaving only the impression of brushing past a fleeting moonbeam.
Nan Rao, slightly drunk, leaned on the railing and asked, “Do you think the fish in this river ever feel sorrow?”
“I am not a fish; I cannot know their sorrows,” Ying Zewei answered, but then added, “Yet if you sense it, then perhaps they do.”
As if in response, a school of river fish trailed mournfully behind the boat.
Nan Rao laughed freely, pouring the remaining wine into the river. “Father said his descendants should be like the great sun patrolling the heavens. When I’m content, the world is bright; when I’m gloomy, mountains and rivers lose their color. The ancients said it well: ‘Share this wine, and together we’ll dispel the sorrows of ten thousand years.'”
From this moment, she had stepped out of another predestined fate, turning back to be the lonely sun burning in the long night.
After several more days of unhurried sailing, as they neared the opening of Huigu, Ying Zewei grew increasingly silent.
“I’ve heard of Huigu,” Nan Rao said. “Suppressing the demons there must have cost you all a great effort.”
“Yes.”
“I remember the Master was a decent person. Who would have thought Ye would slaughter so many for his ascension? Though I don’t know what happened to my father after his ascension, I’ve always thought ascending wasn’t a good thing.”
“Not necessarily.”
“To each their own. Once I’ve arranged the Yigu matter, I’ll retire and enjoy my golden years… Oh, is that a Qingtuan stall by the dock? Are those the famous Fanzhou qingtuan?”
“…”
The journey this season was too short. At the time, Ying Zewei didn’t fully understand that in life, there aren’t many choices. Between being mortal and becoming a god, one must choose.
On the tenth day, they reached the end of the river, with Huigu faintly visible in the distance.
“The seal here uses the same formation as the great demon-sealing array, but Fanzhou’s turbid spiritual energy makes the power circulation less efficient than in the overseas states,” Ying Zewei explained.
Unfortunately, it was a day of thunderstorms. Lightning flashed, and spiritual energy surged around Huigu. Attempting to enter with a Nascent Soul cultivator’s power could risk destroying the array.
After observing for several hours, Nan Rao couldn’t find a suitable opportunity. Amidst the howling wind and rain, she heard an unusual sound. “Did you hear a cat meowing?”
Without waiting for Ying Zewei’s response, she flew towards the sound. Soon, around a bend in the mountain path, she saw a dilapidated ancient temple.
“This place…” Since arriving in Fanzhou, she had been plagued by headaches. Standing before the crumbling temple, Nan Rao vaguely felt a familiar scene flash before her eyes.
As she stood frozen, Ying Zewei’s voice came from behind.
“We’ve come at an inopportune time. It’s not the right moment. Let’s go.”
“But I think I heard a baby crying…” Nan Rao snapped back to reality, suppressing her growing confusion, and entered the ruined temple.
Icy raindrops fell from the sky—a harsh rain that even Nascent Soul cultivators couldn’t dispel.
Ying Zewei looked back towards Huigu, attempting to divine something, but the divination sticks showed only chaos.
“Ji Ming…” he murmured.
As he spoke, Nan Rao emerged, cradling a male infant wrapped in lotus leaves. Unfamiliar with soothing children, she struggled as the baby wailed incessantly.
“Tsk, this little one’s almost ready to be reborn, yet still so energetic,” she said, testing the infant’s forehead with the back of her finger. Noticing signs of recent animal bites, she sighed as the child’s cries weakened. She took out a phoenix tail feather, transforming it into rich fire spiritual energy that she infused into the baby’s body. Pinching the infant’s now-healed chubby feet, she couldn’t help but feel wistful.
“If I hadn’t gone through all this, I might have had a chubby little boy like this in a year… Though this one’s a bit thin. Babies should be plump.”
Ying Zewei lowered his gaze. “The three life-sustaining feathers are your protective treasures. You gave one to my disciple before, and now to an abandoned infant by the roadside. Surely there were other ways to save this child without going to such lengths.”
As the thunderous storm raged, Nan Rao dismissed Ying Zewei’s concern, saying, “These life-sustaining feathers would go unused if I kept them until death. Why waste them?”
Confident in the Vermilion Emperor’s demon heart’s protection, she disregarded his words. However, after infusing the entire phoenix feather into the infant, she noticed the child couldn’t fully absorb its power. Though now immune to illness, the fire spiritual energy seemed to have overwhelmed his mind, potentially leading to an overly exuberant personality.
“So be it,” Nan Rao sighed, summoning a spirit goose to take the baby to a populated area. Intending to jest with Ying Zewei, her gaze swept over the temple’s Buddha statue, which appeared to be shedding tears.
In a flash, unfamiliar images flooded her mind. Among the fragmented scenes, she saw a Buddhist figure’s silhouette and heard Ying Zewei’s whisper—a trembling voice she’d never heard before, as if from the depths of hell.
“Rao Niang, will you come back with me?”
As this question pierced her mind, a shattering sound came from behind. Nan Rao snapped back to reality, finding the tall Buddha statue reduced to dust.
“This is Huigu, where ghostly and demonic energy accumulates. Even mountain statues can ensnare souls,” Ying Zewei explained, concealing his right hand behind his back, his expression unreadable. “There’s no rush to gather souls. Come back to Daosheng Heaven with me. I’ll research our predecessors’ techniques and devise a suitable soul-gathering method for you.”
Nan Rao stared blankly at the ground. “Ying Zewei.”
“Yes?”
After a pause, she looked up with a pale smile. “It’s nothing. I just feel I’m troubling you too much.”
A deep ashen color clouded his eyes as he replied, “Between us, there’s no need for thanks.”
“…”
“Shall we go back?”
“Of course.”
“Wait here briefly. The array might be weakening. I’ll find Daosheng Heaven’s local representatives… Then we’ll return to the Upper State.”
“Alright.”
Ying Zewei took three steps, then stopped. “Rao Niang, if I had agreed to the Dao Master’s arranged marriage that year, would it have prevented the later complications?”
“The twists of fate destined to happen will occur, if not today, then tomorrow,” Nan Rao responded.
Silence permeated the rainy night. Everything born from lies must ultimately be destroyed by them.
As night fell, a fiery light tore through the sky, unstoppably piercing into Huigu’s great array.
The dormant yin curses, like ravenous beasts sensing a delectable meal, transformed into gray mists and surged forward, only to be instantly incinerated by a crimson blaze.
The phoenix fire, never fearing mutual destruction, drove Nan Rao to the deepest part of Huigu, before a cliff. She grabbed a handful of half-dried mud, infusing her spiritual power into the seal. As her eyes opened, an overwhelming phoenix fire erupted from Huigu’s center, causing ghosts to flee in terror.
“Ji Ming! If you’re alive, answer me!”
“My father… What happened to my father?”
“This is too absurd.”
She had always prided herself on her tolerance, but faced with the truth, she realized she had underestimated her limits.
Parents, siblings, friends—all had deceived her to this extent.
Never before had she felt so acutely the brutality of the cultivation world’s power hierarchy.
“Ji Ming…” As memories of the past returned amidst the raging fire, all her shock and pain transformed into fury.
“Daosheng Heaven… Daosheng Heaven, I’ll remember this debt. This mere Huigu array, break for me!”
As the array collapsed with a thunderous roar, a gentle, immersive Buddhist chant emerged. Nan Rao’s expression softened. “Ji Ming, let’s return to Fanzhou and resolve all—”
Time froze. A sword tip, gleaming with murderous intent, pierced through her heart from behind. Nan Rao didn’t turn. As the chant abruptly ceased and the Vermilion Emperor’s demon heart left her chest, she felt everything around her shatter and fall absurdly.
“You wanted to free Ji Ming. That’s impossible,” the person behind her said softly.
“Hah.”
“Indeed. How could years of friendship compare to Xuanzai? Such meticulous planning, yet…”
The cold sword was forced out of her body by her power, clanging as it fell. The chilly rain in the sky, as if meeting a great sun, instantly crystallized into frostflowers.
The figure reflected in her gray eyes was more desolate and brilliant than any bridal gown in the world.
“The sunsets, yet death comes not by the night owl’s talons,” she said, then fell backward off the cliff.
The wind in her ears brought whisper-like illusions, as vivid as yesterday.
It’s over now. The Dao Master’s last command, he had fulfilled it.
Ying Zewei, covered in snow, rose unsteadily. The scorching Vermilion Emperor’s demon heart in his hand gradually corroded his arm to the bare bone. He tried to speak but found no emotions left to express for the rest of his life.
All that remained were cold calculations.
“A heart-destroying wound can only be mended by another heart. When you return to the Upper State will be the day I… the day I attain the Dao,” he said slowly to the space beside him.
As the ice and snow completely melted, his hair, stained by frost, remained white. “The Way of Heaven is indestructible, eternally… enduring!”