At Ziqing’s question, a complicated look flashed through Xuanyuan Lige’s eyes, as if he wanted to say something. But seeing that Nangong Jun was about to answer, he fell silent again.
“He’s very weak,” Nangong Jun said with certainty. A person’s spiritual strength was limited. The Prince of Nanzhao’s musician had created such a vast world, and after dying to become a spirit, had fought a fierce battle of gu against the Great Gu Master. That he hadn’t scattered into nothingness was, in truth, him forcing himself to hold on.
“Scattered into nothingness!” Ziqing was startled, instinctively glancing toward Xuanyuan Lige—even she wasn’t sure why she’d looked at him.
Lige avoided her gaze, pretending he hadn’t noticed anything.
Nangong Jun nodded. “A spirit is, in essence, the gathering of a person’s spiritual strength. Naturally, it will eventually fade.”
“Then once the Prince of Nanzhao’s musician scatters into nothingness, will the Lishang Illusion Realm still exist?” Jun Beiyue asked hastily—this was what concerned him most.
Though the Great Gu Master’s spirit was trapped at the bottom of the sea and no longer posed a danger to them, once the Lishang Illusion Realm vanished, everything would return to reality.
The Great Gu Master could then simply reclaim her true body, because her true body was immortal, undying, ageless!
The Great Gu Master’s true body, and the entire solitary island, were still submerged beneath the South Sea!
Without a doubt, Jun Beiyue’s question was also the one everyone cared about most. Everyone looked at Nangong Jun tensely, but Nangong Jun only smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know either.”
“Then can we get out?” Ziqing asked again. As a mother, how could she not think of her son? This was what concerned her more.
“It should be possible,” Nangong Jun said.
“Should be?” Ziqing frowned—Nangong Jun clearly wasn’t certain.
“Aren’t you supposed to be sure?” Baili Weisheng asked hastily.
A complicated look flickered through Jun Beiyue’s eyes—it was clear Nangong Jun was hiding something.
“From what I understand, it should definitely be possible. It’s just a matter of how much strength the Prince of Nanzhao’s musician has left. We’ll know everything once we see him tomorrow,” Nangong Jun explained flatly.
Ziqing kept feeling something was off, but since Nangong Jun had said this much, she didn’t press further.
That night, they all camped at the foot of the mountain.
But that night, only Nangong Jun fell asleep. Even the usually carefree Baili Weisheng couldn’t sleep.
After all those days, they’d barely had a moment to close their eyes—they should have been exhausted. And yet, helplessly, everyone remained wide awake.
Xinyun wanted very much to stay close to Nangong Jun, but she didn’t dare.
She’d had the courage to rush up to him earlier, but once she calmed down, she obediently retreated on her own—even though Nangong Jun hadn’t said anything to make her feel that way, hadn’t made her feel awkward at all, but had continued smiling calmly at her as always.
Now she lay to his right, watching him from a distance.
In this moment, how she wished time could freeze in place, how she wished this man would never leave!
But she knew—tomorrow, tomorrow they would see the Prince of Nanzhao’s musician. He had said there was a way to leave, so surely there would be a way!
He too had been longing for this for so many years, hadn’t he?
Xinyun, though exhausted, blinked her eyes and refused to let them close. She wanted to look at this man a little longer—perhaps by tomorrow night, she wouldn’t be able to see him anymore. Never again.
In her world, he would completely cease to exist—there wouldn’t even be anything left to hope for.
At the thought, a clear tear slowly slid down from the corner of Xinyun’s eye.
Not far from Xinyun, up in a large tree, Xuanyuan Lige lay stretched out on a branch jutting sideways, his arms pillowing the back of his head. He liked peace and quiet, and had avoided the others by coming up into the tree—only for Baili Weisheng to chase after him regardless.
Xuanyuan Lige had originally expected Baili Weisheng to say something to him, but strangely, tonight this fellow was oddly quiet, saying nothing at all, not even fighting him for space, but instead hanging upside down from the tree like a giant bat, arms wrapped around his own head, swinging back and forth, back and forth!
Finally, Xuanyuan Lige couldn’t stand it anymore. He glanced over and said in a low voice, “Scholar, something on your mind?”
“I was thinking about my godson,” Baili Weisheng said, sounding utterly pitiful.
“Your godson?” Xuanyuan Lige didn’t understand.
“Xiong Xiaobao, Jun Buli!” Baili Weisheng explained. He was troubled, he was calculating—how many days had passed outside by now, over this one night?
“He never actually recognized you as his godfather!” Xuanyuan Lige rolled his eyes. If he remembered correctly, that boy who’d always been so hostile toward him had recognized a bear as his godfather.
Xuanyuan Lige remembered it especially clearly—the first time he’d seen Jun Buli in the world of poison beasts, the boy had been so small, not even three years old, tiny and delicate as carved jade, extremely adorable. Back then he still spoke with a baby’s lisp, not fluent at all.
At the thought, Xuanyuan Lige suddenly wanted very much to see Jun Buli again—that child must be seven or eight years old by now.
The realm of Da Zhou, the world of Longyuan—sooner or later, it would all be his.
At the thought, Xuanyuan Lige unconsciously sat up and looked into the distance, where Jun Beiyue and Ziqing sat side by side, showing no sign of sleepiness either.
Ziqing sat up straight, her motions exaggerated, taking deep breath after deep breath. Jun Beiyue glanced over at her with a smile. “What are you doing?”
“Relaxing. Finally the truth is out, the clouds have cleared and the sky is bright again!” Ziqing said—heaven only knew how much pressure this woman had once carried.
Jun Beiyue smiled and pulled her against him, letting her lean on his shoulder. “It’s good that it’s over.”
“Honestly, I’d given up. Really,” Ziqing said truthfully. Back then, she had genuinely resigned herself, planning to simply be a good wife and mother.
“We should thank A’Li,” Jun Beiyue said candidly.
Ziqing nodded immediately. “If it weren’t for A’Li, we never would have found this place, never would have known this was the secret of the solitary island.”
Jun Beiyue smiled and nodded at her—he probably would never tell Ziqing that he had once had designs on Xuezheng, had once tried very, very hard to form a contract with it.
“Missing our son?” Jun Beiyue asked, changing the subject.
The moment he said this, Ziqing immediately pulled herself out of his embrace, her expression turning serious. “Very much. We’ve been gone several months now, haven’t we? He must be worried sick, since we abandoned him!”
Jun Beiyue sighed. “We really shouldn’t have fought with him so badly that day.”
Neither Ziqing nor Jun Beiyue had ever been people prone to regret—even knowing they were wrong, even knowing they should feel remorse, they would never admit it, always pushing stubbornly through to the end.
But now, together, they admitted their regret—if they hadn’t fought so fiercely with their son that night, he wouldn’t have run away from home. Perhaps he might have come with them into the Lishang Illusion Realm!
But then, quickly, Ziqing sighed again. “Never mind. It’s better that he didn’t come. If he really had come, given how many months have passed, by the time we get out, Da Zhou would truly have changed hands!”
Indeed—if Jun Buli had come into the illusion realm with them too, then all the years of effort Jun Beiyue and Ziqing had spent conquering east and west would likely have ended up as a wedding dress made for someone else.
“A few months, he can hold out,” Ziqing murmured to herself. How could she know that outside, nearly ten years had already passed?