On an airship heading towards the Chen-Si battlefield, east of Chen State, Chu Jing and his companion from the Mortal State were arguing.
“Chen State is so dangerous. Can’t you reconsider? I think that Zhen Yuan is a good person. Why rush to leave? We didn’t even invite her to join us at the Chen-Si battlefield.”
After meeting Nan Yan, Chu Jing had been impressed and boasted about it to Meng Ying. She immediately moved them to a different part of the whale ship, deliberately avoiding Nan Yan’s group when disembarking.
“Brother, you’re underestimating that nun,” Meng Ying said scornfully. “As the saying goes, ‘Don’t flaunt your wealth.’ We’re carrying our sect’s secret treasure. We should be cautious. You revealed too much to her after drinking. Who knows if she might come after us for the treasure? I saw she has a new helper too.”
Inwardly, Meng Ying cursed Chu Jing’s foolishness. Not everyone could enter the Chen-Si battlefield; it required formal disciple status. She needed Chu Jing’s status as her Dao partner to establish herself in Chen State. Once she joined the War Palace, Chu Jing’s fate would be irrelevant.
Chu Jing continued rambling: “You forget who helped you reach Foundation Establishment. Zhen Yuan is incredibly powerful. With her protection, we could connect with a War Palace cultivator. It would make our lives easier… Hmph, women are so shortsighted.”
As Meng Ying contemplated leaving for some air, the airship suddenly shook violently. Someone shouted, “Si State demonic cultivators! Prepare for battle!”
Chaos erupted. Meng Ying saw several dark figures riding snake-tailed bats pursuing their ship, emanating Foundation Establishment peak-level auras.
“These demons infiltrated from Si State to harass Chen State’s airships. Their snake-tailed bats are nearly as fast as the Core Formation stage. We’re doomed!”
The bats quickly caught up. A demonic cultivator summoned a sinister spear, instantly piercing the airship. Cultivators jumped to escape.
Meng Ying used multiple escape talismans to flee, but the demons pursued relentlessly. Just as despair set in, a distant light flashed, expanding into a massive bow of flame.
“It’s Chen State’s prince! Run!”
The demons fled, but a rain of fire engulfed their path. The snake-tailed bats became fireballs, plummeting to the ground.
Meng Ying found the stunned Chu Jing, who had been struck by a bat’s tail. He stared upward in terror.
“It’s him… it’s him!”
Over a hundred war chariots pulled by dragon-lion beasts approached. They were a Chen State War Palace troop passing by, who had eliminated the demons.
The cultivators on the chariots, eyes tinged red from blood drinking, ignored the rescued group. They seemed to be returning to Long City. One approached the lead chariot, adorned with dragon patterns, and spoke to its occupant.
“Young Master, you’re injured. There’s no need for you to intervene in such trivial matters.”
The addressed youth was shirtless, revealing crisscrossing scars from shoulder to abdomen, with an arrow still piercing near his heart. Despite this, he showed no weakness, sitting proudly and drinking strong alcohol.
“We agreed that after I kill 100,000 demonic cultivators, I can return to the Mortal State. With those ten or so just now, I should be at 90,000, right?”
“The Dragon Lord always keeps his word. But Young Master, he has high hopes for you to inherit the Emperor’s position. Talents from all States are eyeing it. Please don’t disappoint him.”
“I never said I wouldn’t return. I just want to find someone in the Mortal State…” He touched a scar around his neck resembling a beheading wound. “Whether they’re alive or dead, I just want peace of mind.”
…
North of the Chen State lay many islands. After twenty days of air travel, they finally saw a vast blue sea.
“Further north is Mao State,” the airship pilot said as he dropped off passengers. “The sea isn’t far, but it’s full of fifth-grade beasts equivalent to the Core Formation stage. If you want to cross to Mao or Yin State, wait two months for the Kun Tower Ship.”
The Kun Tower Ship was the largest and safest sea vessel after the whaleship. “Is there no faster way?” they asked.
A local cultivator warned, “Not unless you want to risk it. It’s early summer, the migration season for Yin Sha jellyfish. Even Nascent Soul cultivators avoid them.”
Two months wasn’t long for cultivators, but Nan Yan feared the Sea Hawk City Lord might cause trouble. Yin Ya was even more anxious, both for his mother clan’s seal and to find Nan Yan’s uncle.
Qi Yang studied a map and suggested, “If we travel through the Northern Mountain’s bay, we could reach the Northern Sea in about ten days. Why not take the land route?”
The locals exchanged looks. Someone sneered, “True, but a dangerous place blocks that path. Twenty years ago, a criminal massacred a city there. The ruins are said to be haunted. Only scattered commoners and low-level cultivators linger nearby. I’d rather face the Yin Sha jellyfish.”
Nan Yan considered, then said, “We’d be waiting two months for a ship anyway. Why not investigate the ruins? We might find an opportunity.”
“Why so confident?”
“I believe fate guides us,” Nan Yan replied. “Considering our past reckless actions in the Filthy Valley, Buddha hasn’t taken us yet. We must be destined for greatness.”
She emphasized, “That’s how it always happens in stories.”
As night fell, the three agreed to explore the ruins. They flew eastward for about 80 li before seeing signs of habitation at sunset.
While the Upper State was a cultivation paradise, it wasn’t devoid of ordinary people. These commoners knew they were ruled by cultivators and worked tirelessly to support their children’s cultivation.
The village they found was small, about three li across with 70-80 households. Surprisingly, every house was decorated with colorful ribbons, and villagers in festive attire were rehearsing performances.
As Nan Yan was about to approach a villager, two Qi Condensation cultivators appeared. The villagers visibly tensed at their arrival.
An elderly man trembled as he stepped forward, “Immortal masters, we’ve already paid this year’s spirit stones.”
Accustomed to extortion, one cultivator slapped the old man to the ground. “Who asked you? If you have time for these performances, you must be hiding more. Hand it over!”
The villagers looked distressed but managed to scrape together 10-20 spirit stones, which seemed to satisfy the cultivators.
Observing this, Nan Yan whispered, “I thought slaughtering mortals was a grave sin?”
“It is, but exploiting them isn’t explicitly forbidden,” Qi Yang replied. “These two have impure spiritual energy, likely unable to reach Foundation Establishment. They don’t fear karmic retribution, so they oppress the villagers.”
As the cultivators left, Nan Yan concealed her aura and approached the fallen elder, “Are you alright, sir?” She was surprised that the slap hadn’t left any visible injury.
The old man dusted himself off, “Thank you for your concern, young Buddhist.”
Nan Yan seized the opportunity to ask, “We’re travelers seeking a shortcut across the sea. Is there an ancient city ruin nearby?”
At her question, the villagers’ attitudes shifted from complaint to wariness and fear.
“I… I don’t know,” the old man stuttered.
The villagers dispersed quickly, leaving Nan Yan perplexed.
“They’re guarding information about the ruins,” Qi Yang observed. “But using illusions to interrogate mortals would be taboo.”
After exploring the village fruitlessly, Nan Yan spotted the two cultivators entering a dilapidated temple with jugs of spirit wine.
Qi Yang suggested, “This village is strange. Perhaps we should question those cultivators instead.”
Nan Yan agreed, “Good idea. It’s late, so I’ll investigate discreetly.”
Qi Yang watched as she approached the temple. Soon, the cultivators’ laughter could be heard before the door shut.
Half an hour later, Nan Yan returned with bloodstained sleeves. “I’ve gathered information.”
Yin Ya remarked, “Are you some kind of demon?”
“How dare you slander a Buddhist,” Nan Yan retorted. “I merely helped them experience mortal life, given their potential for enlightenment.”
She then shared what she’d learned:
The village was established about 20 years ago. North of here once stood a prosperous city called Linglong Capital, famous for its annual beast-slaying festival. Cultivators from various States would bring rare or powerful beasts to be slaughtered and auctioned.
During one such festival, a cultivator was bewitched by a dying beast and went on a rampage, killing everyone in the city, including two Nascent Soul masters.
Later, Chen State and Dao Sheng Heaven cultivators captured the perpetrator but, for unknown reasons, concealed their identity and forbade others from discussing it.
The survivors, unwilling to leave their homeland but afraid to return to the ruins, settled nearby. Each year, on the massacre’s anniversary, they perform plays to appease the spirits of the dead.
A local legend claims that after the performance, their ancestors blessed them with longevity.
As Nan Yan finished her explanation, they noticed villagers lighting torches and heard the beginning of rustic melodies.
The trio used an illusion to blend in with the villagers near the stage. Nan Yan asked a nearby spectator, “What’s today’s performance?”
“It’s a great one this year,” the villager replied excitedly, offering Nan Yan some melon seeds. “We hired a scholar to write it: ‘Orange Cat Zhan Zhao Battles the Golden Rat.’ It’s fantastic!”
Nan Yan, despite her extensive literary knowledge, was baffled. “Cat… Zhan Zhao?”
“The orange cat! Look up there.”
On stage, a chubby child in an orange cat costume had just been transformed by the actor playing Zhan Zhao, letting out a fierce “Meow!”
Yin Ya commented, “It looks just like you as a child. You were so cute then, but now you’re a disgrace to Buddhism.”
Qi Yang was studying the plump child on stage when he felt a tug on his sleeve. Looking down, he saw Nan Yan’s face, so different from his memories, and felt momentarily lost.
Nan Yan pointed at herself, her clear eyes reflecting his stunned expression. “Does this remind you of anything?”
When he closed his eyes, she matched his memory perfectly, but upon opening them, a sense of disconnect remained.
Receiving no response, Nan Yan lowered her gaze, seemingly discouraged. “I suppose it’s hard for you to remember. After all these years, I haven’t gained much Buddhist wisdom. But I’ve followed your teachings: be mindful in all actions, speak and act with caution, and eradicate evil… Will you tolerate this face of mine for just one year?”
On stage, the play grew more intense. Amidst the clashing and fighting, a moonlit blade swept across Qi Yang’s brow.
“I’ve never despised you,” he said.
Nan Yan’s expression softened. She turned to watch the commotion on stage, unaware that the person beside her silently mouthed more words.
“But I wonder, when the time comes, how much of my true face will you be able to accept?”