The next morning, no one who hadn’t slept a wink all night could exactly be called an early riser, but Nangong Jun had gotten up quite early regardless.
Seeing that everyone around him was awake, and seeming to guess what was on their minds, he didn’t ask further questions, simply stood and stretched, then said, “Let’s head up the mountain. Everyone’s waited long enough.”
Xuanyuan Lige immediately leapt down from the tree, while Baili Weisheng flipped down and, only then, felt his head spinning, realizing he’d been hanging upside down for far too long.
He glanced at Ziqing and Jun Beiyue and, seeing they both seemed to be in decent spirits, could only sigh helplessly and decide not to mention the time issue to them just yet.
If Xiao Qingqing got worked up and did something rash, that wouldn’t be good at all. Hearing last night that their old musician’s soul was on the verge of scattering, he thought he’d better hold back a bit—what if Xiao Qingqing got so agitated she grabbed the old musician by the throat and shouted, “Let me out!”
That wouldn’t do at all!
Baili Weisheng was absorbed in his own imagination, and by the time he snapped out of it, he found the others had already walked far ahead.
For a group of people all highly skilled in martial arts, climbing the mountain wasn’t difficult, and soon they’d all reached the mountainside.
Nangong Jun and Xinyun led the way in front, guiding them along a mountain path, deeper into the dense forest.
Both Nangong Jun and Xinyun knew the Prince of Nanzhao’s musician would be here, but they had no idea what condition he was actually in.
Back then, in a moment of desperation—to prevent any poison corpse or the Great Gu Master from escaping—the musician had exhausted his power to set a boundary on the solitary island: whoever approached, the entire island would vanish, becoming a mere illusion.
Xinyun vaguely remembered the Prince of Nanzhao’s musician saying, when he sealed the exit, that someday a descendant would come who could break through all the barriers. So when Ziqing arrived, Xinyun knew the person the musician had been waiting for had finally come.
In truth, there was no longer any need for caution—on this small island, besides the Prince of Nanzhao’s musician, only they remained. There was no one else, and certainly no other danger.
Everyone could well have relaxed their guard. And yet, for some reason, as they walked on, everyone unconsciously grew more and more careful, as if afraid of disturbing something.
Even Nangong Jun gradually slowed his pace.
They passed through a small grove of trees and finally caught sight of a cave!
The cave’s mouth wasn’t large. It was early morning, and the sunlight slanted in, making the cave appear especially deep and quiet.
In truth, even Nangong Jun and Xinyun had never gone inside—they only knew that the Prince of Nanzhao’s musician was within.
“It’s just inside,” Ziqing said in a low voice.
Nangong Jun nodded. “Let me go in first.”
“I’ll go with you!” Xinyun said immediately, growing more and more reluctant to part with Nangong Jun, though she said nothing of it.
“Go on ahead, you two,” Ziqing said quickly, giving Xinyun a hand.
Nangong Jun didn’t refuse. Soon he and Xinyun went in first.
Ziqing and the other three waited at the cave mouth, inevitably falling into discussion.
“Xuanyuan Lige, you understand the soul-capturing melody—tell us, will we really be able to get out?” Baili Weisheng asked.
In truth, he’d wanted to ask this since the night before. Nangong Jun’s attitude had made him suspicious.
But with Ziqing and Jun Beiyue present, he’d guessed Xuanyuan Lige wouldn’t say anything even if he asked.
Sure enough, hearing Baili Weisheng’s question, Ziqing also spoke up, saying quietly, “A’Li, what do you think?”
If Ziqing remembered correctly, the melody Xuanyuan Lige had composed—the soul-capturing tune, Shang Li—she had played it on the zither over and over, and still hadn’t been able to break the illusion realm.
“How do we escape the soul-capturing melody? How do we break Shang Li? We’re not only within Shang Li, we’re also within Lishang,” Jun Beiyue said seriously.
In other words, they were within the summoning tune inside the soul-capturing melody, an illusion realm within an illusion realm!
But for a long moment, Xuanyuan Lige gave no answer.
For a moment, Ziqing, Jun Beiyue, and Baili Weisheng all grew alarmed.
“Xiao Lili, don’t tell us… don’t tell us… you don’t know either?” Baili Weisheng said timidly.
Who would have expected Xuanyuan Lige to suddenly look apologetic, shaking his head helplessly. “I actually… don’t know either. I only created Shang Li following the patterns of Lishang. Even at the time, I wasn’t certain it would turn out this way.”
Xuanyuan Lige was telling the truth. The moment those words came out, the faces of Ziqing and the other two turned several shades paler.
“The Prince of Nanzhao’s musician is a master of soul-capturing and illusion melodies—he should know.”
Though Xuanyuan Lige’s face carried a look of apology, deep in his eyes was hidden a faint helplessness, a shallow smile—as though he’d already known something all along. Unfortunately, none of them noticed.
Before long, Xinyun came rushing anxiously out of the cave, panting, “Ziqing, come quickly, something’s not right!”
Hearing this, the others didn’t stop to ask further, hurrying into the cave after Xinyun.
But they hadn’t expected the cave to be so deep. The further in they went, the darker, colder, and quieter it became.
Yet when Ziqing and the others finally reached the end and saw what lay before them, they all froze. For a moment, they couldn’t process it, couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t believe what they were seeing.
How… how could this be?
They had all assumed the Prince of Nanzhao’s musician would be an elderly man. But the man before them looked to be no more than twenty-five or twenty-six, dressed in a long grey-white robe, his hair black as ink. His face was deathly pale, yet it couldn’t hide his ethereal, immortal-like elegance.
But that alone wasn’t what was so shocking.
What truly shocked them was that his hands, his feet, and even his waist were bound by five chains.
Ziqing stared, dumbfounded, clearly seeing every one of his ten fingers shackled with iron rings.
He looked exactly like a prisoner, chained up inside the cave.
And yet, despite all this, a zither sat before him—Ziqing recognized at a glance that it was Wuzheng!
Despite everything, his ten fingers could still move, still rested upon the strings, as though ready at any moment to play a tune that could enchant the soul.
Setting everything else aside, this scene alone was enough to inspire admiration, enough to command respect!
Ziqing’s heart was a tangle of emotions, and at that moment, the Prince of Nanzhao’s musician was also looking at her, as though he recognized her.
Ziqing found herself walking forward unconsciously, as if to reach out and touch Wuzheng, but just then, Jun Beiyue quickly stopped her.
He couldn’t help but be on guard.
The Prince of Nanzhao’s musician was the creator of this world—who else, besides himself, could bind him like this?
And if he had done it to himself, why would he do such a thing?
And what did Xinyun mean by saying something wasn’t right?
Seeing Jun Beiyue tense, Nangong Jun laughed. “Bai Ziyou, you’ve frightened the younger ones.”
Bai Ziyou, “the younger ones”?
Bai Ziyou must be the name of the Prince of Nanzhao’s musician. And “younger ones”—well, though everyone appeared roughly the same age, Ziqing and the others were indeed the younger generation here.
The Prince of Nanzhao’s musician laughed heartily, and only then did Nangong Jun explain, “Jun Beiyue, don’t worry. These chains were placed on himself, by the musician, to prevent his soul from scattering. The musician has been waiting for you all for so long…”
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