Except for being larger, these were doors that Jian Chou found somewhat familiar.

Only because she had never seen such doors after coming to the Nineteen Continents—they only appeared in that small mountain village with an ancient banyan tree, accompanied by curling cooking smoke, golden setting sun, and dark mountain ranges hidden beneath layers of mist…

Only this terrifying sword scar, carved on the door, seemed also carved on her heart.

This door—a heart door?

Was this what Fudao Shanren meant by “testing heart and luck”?

If judged by this, her luck truly couldn’t be considered good.

Her heart trembled slightly, but Jian Chou didn’t know why she could still laugh aloud. Even after just a moment of stiffness, she cast aside all distracting thoughts in her mind and slowly pushed open this door.

Silent and soundless.

Only the dragon sinew emitted faint golden light, separating into strand after strand, entering this ten-zhang gate.

Like pushing open a wealthy family’s garden gate, exquisite scenery immediately appeared before her eyes.

It was a sizable courtyard with long covered corridors on both sides. Artificial mountains stood in clear water pools, occasionally with golden-red small fish swimming below. Green trees had withered, leaving only clusters of red plum blossoms blooming in the garden’s depths.

A thin layer of white snow scattered across the garden ground like sprinkled silver.

Among the red plum grove, a corner of upturned eaves was faintly visible, a black shadow particularly striking against red plums and white snow.

…

Jian Chou stood before the gate like standing on an execution platform, feeling only sharp blade after sharp blade beneath her feet.

“Heaven intends to snow—perfect for cooking wine with red plums. Will you drink a cup?”

A voice came from beneath those eaves.

Though the person wasn’t yet visible, just hearing this voice already gave a cool, refreshing feeling, extraordinarily comfortable.

This wasn’t anyone Jian Chou knew from the past; her memory held no such voice.

Though seeing this scene again was somewhat distressing, a curiosity eager to break the situation also wrapped around her heart.

Who could it be?

Many thoughts flashed through her mind. Jian Chou finally walked forward.

Holding the lawless, heavenless, constant-less, stability-less dragon vein, she stepped in.

In that instant, the simple wooden door disappeared, the fierce sword scar vanished, and even Kunwu behind her disappeared. With one step, Jian Chou entered another world.

Beneath her feet were nine stone steps, level by level.

The snow was thin. With each step Jian Chou took, she could press it firm, leaving footprint after footprint.

The courtyard path was fairly wide, but approaching the plum grove, it became secluded.

Jian Chou walked to the grove’s edge, pushing aside a plum branch blocking her way and stepping through sideways. But memories in her mind came wave after wave—in a trance, joyful voices and laughter arose, along with five-string qin music floating through the grove, accompanied by a man’s clear, elegant chanting…

“When heroes depart, all splendor ends; only green mountains remain like those in Luoyang…”

“Rustle.”

Slender fingers gently pushed aside another slanting plum branch. Deep red plum petals had swaying snow fall from them, landing on Jian Chou’s moon-white robes, quickly creating faint dark spots.

She lowered her eyes, silently passing by the side before releasing her hand.

Looking up again, an exquisite stone pavilion was already before her eyes.

In the pavilion was a stone table with rough pottery wine vessels arranged on top. Yellow-black patterns outlined simplicity and plainness. On a bamboo tray lay newly picked red plum blossoms, extraordinarily beautiful with faint dark fragrance floating.

Beside the table was a small red clay stove where green ant wine was newly roasted and warming.

A pale white hand picked out a red plum blossom, tearing off petals one by one and dropping them into the wine.

The faint red plum fragrance soon merged with the wine’s mellow aroma, immediately becoming an enchanting cold fragrance that spread through the air with a crisp yet alluring scent.

It was good wine.

Also a beauty.

Jian Chou stood in the courtyard, only able to see the woman sitting sideways facing outward, wearing a dark green long dress with complex embroidered patterns mainly of vines and green leaves. Just looking at this profile, Jian Chou felt a familiar sensation, somehow recalling the Green Leaf Ancestor from the Crimson Small Realm.

However, this person was clearly not her.

“When this cold fragrance becomes nearly ethereal, one can arise and drink.”

The cool voice had little fluctuation, carrying a hint of laughter.

That graceful figure turned around, waving toward the space before her: “Please be seated.”

The same scenery, a different person, and different moods and experiences.

Jian Chou knew this was where this round’s test lay. She didn’t refuse, only walking forward, brushing off the snowflakes on her body and sitting opposite the green-dressed woman.

She looked up to observe but suddenly discovered something strange.

No matter how clearly she could see this woman’s features while looking, once her gaze shifted slightly, her mind became completely blurred, unable to recall what those features had looked like.

So this green-dressed beauty’s appearance existed between truth and illusion.

“The Gate of Right and Wrong, Cause and Effect is a heart gate; the Realm of Right and Wrong, Cause and Effect is a heart realm.”

The beauty placed a rough pottery bowl before Jian Chou, her raised fingers carrying enchanting elegance.

Her lips curved in countless charms: “What you see, don’t see, and will see in this realm all relate to your own thoughts, desires, experiences, and yearnings. And I might also have some connection to your future self.”

This was indeed wonderful.

“Meaning this realm might relate to my past or my future.”

Jian Chou smiled slightly, her gaze toward the green-dressed woman immediately carrying some exploration.

“Exactly so.”

The woman put down her cup, picked up another red plum, tore off petals, and dropped them bit by bit into the wine on the stove.

“I’m no flower-cherishing person, only doing destructive things. If you enter this realm, you must endure my test, or you’ll never obtain your phantom body… Hmm, did you bring the key?”

Key?

Earlier Fudao Shanren had said the dragon sinew was the key.

Jian Chou extended her hand, placing the dragon sinew on the stone table beside the bamboo tray: “This thing?”

The green-dressed woman nodded, seeming to measure the dragon sinew’s length by eye, then looked at Jian Chou with interest: “In this realm, my name is Cause and Effect. You may call me Yinguo Daojun.”

Tearing off the last petal, she dropped it into the wine.

Hot wine steamed outward, misty in the cold wind. Ripples spread in the wine liquid, quickly absorbing that petal’s fragrance.

The woman calling herself “Yinguo Daojun” took a deep breath, showing an intoxicated expression, sighing: “Have you heard of Mengpo Soup?”

“…”

Whether on the human isolated island or in the Nineteen Continents, there had been legends of “underworld administration.” In mortal tales, the dead must cross the Yellow Springs, pass the Three Lives Stone, and drink Mengpo Soup to forget past lives and be reborn—called “reincarnation.”

But with the nine-headed bird that carried ghosts to ghost gates dead in the Nineteen Continents, cultivators no longer had reincarnation.

Jian Chou had heard of Mengpo Soup.

She couldn’t help shifting her gaze to look at the wine on the stove.

Having asked this inexplicable question, Yinguo Daojun had already used a plain bamboo ladle to scoop wine, slowly pouring it into wine cups, then rising gracefully to lift the cup and pour wine for Jian Chou.

The rough pottery bowl didn’t look refined by any standard and shouldn’t match the Yinguo Daojun before her.

Yet there was a simplicity of all returning to dust.

People come from humble origins, and seeing this humbleness again suddenly brought strange emotions.

Waving her hand, Yinguo Daojun smiled again: “I hear from your human isolated island that reincarnation still exists. Four hundred sixty-six years ago, a national teacher once dreamed of visiting the underworld. Upon waking, he described what he’d seen to the emperor, painted a myriad ghost diagram, and wrote ‘Records of Seeing the Eight Direction Yama Kings.’ Since then, mortals’ knowledge of the underworld exceeded that of cultivators. Even the Nineteen Continents’ extreme realm reincarnation theories came from the human isolated island.”

Only because cultivators couldn’t enter reincarnation, so they had difficulty knowing the situation below?

Jian Chou pondered.

Yinguo Daojun also poured herself a bowl of wine, lifting it to sip slightly. Her eyes immediately filled with satisfaction, nearly intoxicated.

“Really quite interesting when you think about it…”

“Everyone among mortals wants to seek longevity, not knowing that once they step onto the cultivation path, they’re refused by reincarnation. A worthless life—upon death they dissipate completely from this heaven and earth, their souls absorbed by the Nineteen Continents’ earth, becoming one wisp of this world’s vast qi. Seeking longevity yet losing longevity; ignorant with short lifespans yet able to enter the six paths of reincarnation. Even with past lives forgotten, they still remain in this vast universe in unique soul states.”

A moment of confusion.

Jian Chou discovered that what Yinguo Daojun spoke of were things she’d never considered before.

How many cultivators in these Nineteen Continents had thought through this principle?

Stepping onto the cultivation path—was it gain or loss? Drinking a cup of Mengpo Soup already forgot past lives completely. After reincarnation, would one still be the original self?

And also…

Xie Buchen.

He sought longevity—could he truly find it?

Jian Chou looked down at the bowl of wine before her, carrying an almost imperceptible plum blossom fragrance, and suddenly asked: “Cultivators’ lives and souls exist only once and cannot enter reincarnation. Meaning once dead, they’re truly dead, never having any chance to start over?”

“Correct.”

Penetrating yet obscure gazes fell on her, scanning Jian Chou up and down.

Yinguo Daojun immediately saw through all her thoughts, only drawing close to whisper in her ear: “When cultivators die, their souls drift between heaven and earth, reabsorbed by this universe into chaos. So if you want to kill someone, one fatal strike leaves them no chance to turn things around.”

Jian Chou’s eyelashes trembled slightly.

Red lips opened and closed by her ear, each word clear and distinct.

“This wine is called ‘Illumination.’ Drinking it lets you illuminate right and wrong, good and evil… It can let you see everything you want to see, don’t want to see, dare to face, and don’t dare to face. You drink this wine, illuminate yourself, and this Daojun will guide you to your phantom body… Heh, my Jian Chou, do you dare?”

Do you dare?

Jian Chou slowly moved her gaze over, meeting Yinguo Daojun’s eyes directly, only lightly mocking with a smile: “My drinking this wine has nothing to do with you.”

“…”

Yinguo Daojun was suddenly stunned, seeming not to understand this phrase.

Under her slightly dazed gaze, Jian Chou had already lifted the rough pottery bowl and drained it completely.

The wine liquid entered her mouth, immediately burning throughout.

The crisp fragrance wound through every thread of wine, immediately spreading throughout Jian Chou’s entire body.

“Interesting.”

Yinguo Daojun couldn’t help sighing, then casually pointed at the table. The two-zhang dragon sinew actually leaped up as if alive, shooting straight into the gray, misty sky, transforming into a tiny light point and disappearing.

Thus, in an instant, all surrounding scenery vanished.

Snow began to fall.

Gone was the original courtyard, gone were the garden’s red plums, gone were the artificial mountains and small pools…

The gray, misty sky canopy also darkened immediately.

Suddenly there was the sound of rushing water by her ears, like flowing water striking stones, sometimes loud, sometimes soft. Even beneath her feet began to sway.

Looking down, Jian Chou saw the stone pavilion had instantly transformed into a small boat, traveling by night on the river surface.

Ahead were countless boats with lit lanterns floating on the river, touched by river mist, carrying worldly tranquility.

But their current boat had not the slightest light.

Illuminating the small boat was only a pale white moon in the sky.

Splash splash…

River water passed by the boat’s side, ripples cutting the moonlight into pieces, rising and falling.

Looking up, several peaks stood azure on the river.

But this night seemed eternal as ten thousand ages.

A thin figure leaned at the boat’s edge, bony fingers already reaching into the river water, long hair lifted by river wind, entangling with his robes, carrying reluctant attachment.

His brow peaks were like the river’s green peaks, hiding sorrow within weariness, his pale face carrying post-illness haggardness.

“Time passes like this river, never ceasing day or night…”

Yinguo Daojun’s shadow had already disappeared. Jian Chou on the boat stood behind this figure, involuntarily stepping forward.

Subtle footsteps sounded.

He didn’t turn around, only slowly withdrawing his hand from the bone-chilling river water, as if he could know without guessing who stood behind him, completely trusting and peaceful.

“Jian Chou, let us marry…”