In the lingering illusion of the Underworld Mirror, howling cultivators and splattered blood filled the scene. The earth-shaking qin music caused rafters to collapse and living beings to wail. The rhythm gradually merged with the melody from the day they escaped the North Sea’s demon-sealing formation…
Yin Ya awoke with a shout. As his eyes focused, he realized he had returned to the cave where they had left their physical bodies before entering the ruins of Linglong City.
“Your spiritual consciousness is damaged. Rest and recover quickly,” Qi Yang advised.
Yin Ya turned to see Nan Yan sleeping peacefully on Qi Yang’s lap, likely resting after the spiritual impact.
“What happened in the end?” Yin Ya asked.
Qi Yang gestured for silence, not wanting to wake Nan Yan. Yin Ya rolled his eyes, thinking to himself, “Cultivators don’t need sleep. She’s just spoiled.”
Nevertheless, Yin Ya switched to spiritual communication. As he pulled his tail from Nan Yan’s embrace, Qi Yang calmly recounted the previous night’s events. Yin Ya felt puzzled.
“The Underworld Mirror requires all participants in the bloodshed to complete the performance before it can be broken. That… that qin player killed at least ten thousand people in Linglong City. Where did you find ten thousand people to participate?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Qi Yang replied. “Perhaps the mirror’s power had been depleting after repeatedly creating illusions without an owner to retrieve it. Last night, the villagers seemed to be protected by the mirror and weren’t harmed. They were returned to nearby villages. I think we can continue our journey today.” He gently stroked Nan Yan’s hair and added, “That qin player was likely the uncle her mother told her to find.”
Yin Ya’s expression darkened. “So?”
“When we were on the whale ship, I chatted with some Chenzhou cultivators,” Qi Yang explained. “They said that after the Linglong City massacre, the culprit was taken to the Judgment Hall by Daosheng Heaven. He was supposed to receive the death penalty, but someone pleaded for leniency. Instead, he was exiled to guard the demon-sealing formation in the North Sea of Yinzhou, never to leave. You escaped from Nan Yi’s guard when you were young, didn’t you?”
Yin Ya fell silent. Qi Yang continued softly, “You must realize that since you have an agreement with Ah Yan to help rescue your people, it will inevitably force her to oppose her uncle.”
Qi Yang’s words seemed to possess a strange power to see through people’s hearts, leaving no secrets untold.
After a long silence, Yin Ya changed the subject, frowning at Qi Yang. “Who exactly are you? Are you just a discarded disciple of Daosheng Heaven?”
The air grew tense. Suddenly, they heard a cultivator flying outside their hideout. Qi Yang quickly cast a barrier to conceal their presence.
They heard the whoosh of someone stopping near the ruins, their Core Formation stage power evident. “The strange power that lingered here for years has been broken. Did someone play the Night Serenade? I must report this to the Dragon Lord immediately.”
The cultivator departed as swiftly as they had arrived, disappearing dozens of miles away.
“The Linglong City massacre was a big deal. Chenzhou will likely send people to investigate,” Yin Ya said.
He woke Nan Yan, and they hurriedly entered the ruins to find a way out of Chenzhou.
Five days later, at the coast between Chenzhou and Maozhou, waiting cultivators were shocked to see over two hundred cultivators from Dragon City appear on the horizon. These newcomers seemed to have just left a battlefield, heading straight for the coast instead of returning home. One flew over to inquire about the situation.
“Cultivators have stolen a treasure buried near here. Have you seen any suspicious individuals near the eastern ruins recently?”
“There were three suspicious people – two men and a woman. The woman was a Buddhist cultivator. They seemed in a hurry to cross the sea, attempting to pass through the ruins.”
“What did they look like?”
“They were all quite young and extraordinarily attractive, not ordinary cultivators. The female Buddhist cultivator was especially striking and easily recognizable.”
After gathering information from several people, the inquiring cultivator returned to the group from Dragon City. He bowed to the prince on the central dragon-lion war chariot and reported, “The thieves who stole the Underworld Mirror seem to have gone to Maozhou. Your Highness, the Dragon Lord ordered you to retrieve the mirror for the sake of your future. Please proceed with caution.”
Prince Mu Zhanting of Chenzhou, who had been severely injured and carried to Chenzhou by the Blood Phoenix Hairpin’s spirit from Fanzhou years ago, sighed reluctantly. “Those sour scholars in Dragon City just love to gossip about me. They make it sound like I enjoy killing people.”
The accompanying cultivators broke out in cold sweat. Wasn’t that true? Mu Zhanting had just reached Core Formation this year, yet he had already topped the Demon Slayer Rankings for Core Formation cultivators on the Chen-Si battlefield, terrifying demon cultivators from Sizhou into fleeing at the sight of his banner.
“None of you understand me,” Mu Zhanting lamented. “If my sister were here, I’d already be a poet by now.”
The three hundred Dragon City cultivators remained silent. Years ago, while the Dragon Lord was handling affairs, he suddenly saw the Blood Phoenix bringing Mu Zhanting, along with the return of his former betrothal gift. He flew into a rage that collapsed a palace. Yet, for some unknown reason, he devoted all his efforts to nurturing Mu Zhanting, who knew nothing about why he was there, even intending to take him as a personal disciple.
Rumors in Chenzhou suggested that, given the Dragon Lord’s past affairs, Mu Zhanting might be his illegitimate son.
They had no choice but to indulge and humor him, even though they felt nauseated every time they heard him speak in idioms these past few years.
“Your Highness,” an attendant cultivator cleared his throat, “We know you enjoy composing poetry. When we return to Dragon City, we’ll find Confucian cultivators for you to discuss it with. For now, let’s focus on the task at hand. We have images of the three suspects. Please take a look.”
Mu Zhanting, who had been lounging in the war chariot, sat up straight and snatched the jade slip containing the images.
“How… how can it be him?!” he exclaimed.
The attendant quickly asked, “Your Highness, do you know them?”
“Except for the woman in the middle, these two… they’re my brothers! They’ve come to the upper realms!” Mu Zhanting examined the images again to confirm, then laughed heartily. “They’re still alive!”
The attendant rejoiced as well. “Your Highness, don’t you also have a sworn sister? Could it be the woman in the middle?”
Mu Zhanting scrutinized the female cultivator’s image before firmly declaring, “Impossible. My sister looks like a big pig’s trotter. This young lady must be someone they met on the road.”
With that, he laughed again and leaped out of the war chariot, his body emanating burning marks as he directly pursued Maozhou, leaving his group behind.
“Your Highness! Your Highness!” the Dragon City cultivators called out, helplessly following him.
Maozhou was the smallest of the twelve realms, spanning only seven to eight hundred li. After half a day of travel, Nan Yan and her two companions mostly encountered peaceful mortal villages along the way.
“Ah Yan, do you want to visit the Buddhist holy land of Chou Mountain and Brahma Sea?” Qi Yang asked.
“Logically, I should,” Nan Yan replied, glancing back at Yin Ya’s pale face. “Second brother, if you’re uncomfortable, you can return to your original form.”
“You wish,” Yin Ya retorted.
He was indeed struggling. Maozhou was Buddhist territory, with sacred chants permeating every inch. Buddhism restrained demons and spirits. While he was accustomed to being near Nan Yan, Maozhou was too much for him. Stepping onto this land felt like having an old monk endlessly chanting and striking a wooden fish in his head.
Nan Yan thought Yin Ya was truly a delicate and pampered fox. He got seasick on boats, spooked at night, and now dizzy in Buddhist territory. Fearing for his life, she suggested after much deliberation, “Your Foundation Building cultivation might not withstand the holy aura of Maozhou’s sacred grounds. Why not find a place to attempt Core Formation? Once you form your core, your spiritual energy will stabilize, and you won’t have to fear the local energy affecting you.”
Core Formation was more complex than Foundation Building. During Qi Refinement, spiritual energy was like mist; at Foundation Building, it condensed into water; and at Core Formation, the water solidified into a core. Only after Core Formation did cultivators truly enter the second stage of cultivation.
Yin Ya’s Core Formation would take at least three to five days.
“Don’t worry about me. Didn’t that suffering monk want you to go to Chou Mountain and Brahma Sea?” Yin Ya said.
“Chou Mountain and Brahma Sea are 500 li away. It would take too long to go there and back. We can just stay nearby. What do you think, Shao Cang?” Nan Yan asked.
“I have a place in mind,” Qi Yang said, surveying the surrounding landscape. “There are two famous qins in the world. One, called ‘Listening to Madness,’ belongs to Nan Yi. The other, ‘Drunken Illness,’ was originally owned by Daosheng Heaven. After Nan Yi’s city massacre, the world feared it would never hear the two qins play together again. So Daosheng Heaven gifted ‘Drunken Illness’ to Chou Mountain and Brahma Sea. Since no masters in Maozhou could play it, they placed it in a scenic spot for people to appreciate.”
A passing farmer overheard their conversation and greeted them respectfully. “Esteemed immortals, the place you’re talking about is called Panyin Temple. Cultivators visit yearly to hear the sacred music, but entry isn’t easy.”
“Oh? I heard Maozhou had no restrictions on cultivators. Is this place an exception?” Qi Yang inquired.
The farmer chuckled. “You must be from out of town. That sacred qin, once belonging to Daosheng Heaven’s sect leader, plays celestial music annually. It greatly benefits cultivators’ advancement. This year, a prince from Weizhou is already meditating before the sacred qin at Panyin Temple. He plans to monopolize it for half a year and has brought many guards. You might face disappointment if you go.”
Qi Yang asked, “What’s the cultivation level of Panyin Temple’s guards?”
“At least Core Formation,” the farmer replied.
“And the prince?”
“All the princes from various realms have reached Core Formation this year. They’re young and fierce. This Weizhou prince reached the Core Formation ten years ago. Best not to provoke him.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
Nan Yan dragged the listless Yin Ya under a nearby tree and asked Qi Yang, “Why do you suddenly want to see this qin?”
“I’ve been thinking,” Qi Yang explained. “The North Sea’s demon-sealing formation is crucial. We probably can’t approach it easily. If you want to meet your uncle, going directly is almost impossible. If we could obtain ‘Drunken Illness’ in Maozhou and play the Night Serenade outside the North Sea, we might be able to lure Nan Yi out without conflict.”
It was a clever plan, but Panyin Temple wouldn’t simply let them borrow such an important sacred qin.
Nan Yan fidgeted with her prayer beads, then said, “As a disciple of the ‘True’ generation, I should be able to enter Panyin Temple. But with the temple monks in front and the Weizhou prince behind, do you think I have any chance of reasoning with them?”
Yin Ya weakly replied, “Maozhou’s monks are usually reasonable. After Chenzhou’s prince was killed a few years ago, princes from all realms have been closely guarded by cultivators. Unless you plan to seduce him. But let me warn you, Weizhou’s cultivators are sword cultivators. You know what that means? They’re like unmarried monks – their swords are their wives.”
Nan Yan said, “Since you need to form your core anyway, we might as well try our luck at Panyin Temple while we wait. If it doesn’t work out, when we reach the North Sea, I’ll just shout for my uncle outside the demon-sealing formation for three days.”
“…”
Song Zhu had traveled from Weizhou to Panyin Temple ten days ago. Daily listening to the temple’s qin music had already sharpened his sword intent considerably.
As the closed-door disciple of Weizhou’s Sword Champion, he was the oldest among the princes of various realms. If he couldn’t secure the Emperor’s position in the upcoming Mountain and Sea Forbidden Decision, he would have to step down from his prince status.
Song Zhu listened to the sacred qin’s music on the altar while lovingly polishing his sword. As he reached the sword’s tip, its shiny surface suddenly reflected the temple’s abbot outside the door, receiving a white-robed Buddhist nun.
The sword’s surface mirrored the nun’s face, and Song Zhu found himself unable to look away.
The nun was speaking humbly and serenely to the abbot. When she raised her eyes, her pupils were like ink-filled pools. Her features were distinct and as brilliant as a blazing moon or peach blossoms, yet they were restrained within her pure and sacred Buddhist robe.
Ascetic yet beautiful.
Song Zhu couldn’t help but recall how his master, Weizhou’s Sword Champion Meng Xiaolou, had lived half his life purely devoted to the Dao, only to inexplicably elope with a woman… who later coaxed him back to Weizhou.
Although he respected his master, he had always disapproved of the elopement. Until today…
He watched as the nun finished speaking with the abbot, accepted a scroll of Buddhist scriptures, and then walked towards his meditation hall.
“This humble nun, Zhen Yuan, has traveled from another realm. May I request the prince’s permission to pay homage to the sacred qin?”
Song Zhu’s hand holding the sword began to tremble.
…Damn, she’s here. What should I do?