Meng He Ze knew he was dying. He could no longer see Song Qian Ji’s face clearly, only the bright full moon rising from the floating clouds in the night sky beyond the cave entrance.
The round moon swayed back and forth, like a small boat crossing the deep blue night sea, drifting toward him.
After his death, Song Qian Ji would become the “Demon-Slaying Hero,” earning the respect of the entire cultivation world, no longer having to wander in hardship or struggle for survival.
Song Qian Ji now possessed the treasury map and keys, along with people to assist him—enough to establish his sect and become a master of a generation.
Thinking of this, Meng He Ze felt somewhat comforted.
The four—Golden Peach, Golden Hairpin, Golden Law, and Golden Knife—had made plans behind his back to seal him in a glacier deep within the snowfields at the edge of the continent, with the four taking turns standing guard. With his spiritual energy frozen and cultivation halted, his life could be preserved.
But to Meng He Ze, that would be nothing more than a wretched existence, worse than death.
The silver moon drew closer, its light transforming into a patch of emerald green fields and an azure sky.
Is this the spring fields of Qian Qu? As Meng He Ze thought this, he suddenly felt his body lighten, as if his soul had left his body.
The scenes before his eyes changed rapidly like a lantern show, images of labor in Qian Qu interspersed with battlefields of slaughter in the Western Sea. He saw himself ultimately perfecting his evil techniques, yet losing his sanity, only able to trap himself within a formation.
But once his killing nature arose, it was difficult to control. By the time his subordinates broke into the formation, he had already sliced himself into a thousand pieces…
After his death, a cultivator named Wei Zhen Yu appeared, claiming to be Song Qian Ji’s disciple, who found his underground palace treasury and improved his cultivation manuals.
Who was Wei Zhen Yu? The name sounded familiar as if he had heard it somewhere before. He should know this person.
The more Meng He Ze thought about it, the more his head ached. What was real, what was false?
Which was the previous life, which was the present?
Was it so or not, what night is tonight, life and death, death and life?
His soul burned with excruciating pain, about to split apart. He was involuntarily drawn to a cold lake, sinking into it, suddenly seeing a giant stone at the bottom, emitting five-colored light, like a strange flower blooming underwater.
Just as his soul grew lighter and lighter, his consciousness increasingly blurred, about to become nourishment for the giant stone, a sudden thunderous shout erupted from the depths of his soul:
“Xiao Meng, come back!”
“Come back—”
The familiar voice, like an invisible rope tied around Meng He Ze’s neck, dragged him out of the deep cold lake.
“Senior Brother Song?!”
Meng He Ze’s eyes flew open, but he saw only darkness. He gasped for breath, like a drowning man returning to land.
So Qian Qu was real, his friends, family, and senior brother were all real.
“Calm your spirit, embrace the primordial, and return slowly!” He heard Song Qian Ji’s voice again, this time right beside him. The other seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, having regained composure: “It’s fine now, everything’s alright.”
Meng He Ze gradually recovered his sight, seeing night mist enveloping the lake, mountains surrounding them, and the round moon still hanging in the sky.
And Song Qian Ji was standing before him, with higher cultivation and a more gentle, steady demeanor than in the illusion.
Meng He Ze suddenly turned away, unable to bear looking at him.
Song Qian Ji was taken aback. This kid—after all my hard work risking life and death, you come back without even a greeting.
On second thought, the other had received too much information in a short time—not just experiences, but also cultivation insights and understanding of the world—so it was normal to need time to recover.
Within the realm, Master Hua Wei called out: “The moon has passed its zenith, time is running short. Are we still saving the next one?”
Song Qian Ji gritted his teeth: “Yes!”
Then Meng He Ze turned back, his face already streaming with tears: “Is Senior Brother injured?”
Song Qian Ji immediately felt a headache coming on and scolded: “A man doesn’t shed tears easily, what are you crying for!”
Meng He Ze’s tear-filled red eyes somewhat resembled Meng Zheng Xian before his death.
Song Qian Ji’s tone softened: “Alright, the Three Lives Stone at the bottom of this lake is a natural treasure. You’ve emerged from an illusory world with insights from another lifetime of cultivation—a blessing in disguise.”
Meng He Ze thought of “Evil Buddha Meng Zheng Xian,” his feelings were impossible to describe as merely complex.
It was as if he had been stripped naked and paraded through Qian Qu Town, with Ji Chen beating drums and gongs along the way: “Fellow townspeople, come and see! Don’t miss it as you pass by!”
Ji Chen, yes, Ji Chen was still frozen like a statue nearby!
“How did Senior Brother bring me back, let me go—” Before Meng He Ze could finish, he saw Song Qian Ji’s expression change slightly as he handed him a stack of sound-amplifying talismans.
“Go back and contact the disciples of Qian Qu, lead them out of the secret realm. Do everything possible to get all cultivators to leave the realm.”
“But it’s not time yet, the entrance and exit to the secret realm haven’t opened.”
“The underground palace has a secret passage connecting to the Dead Sea.” Song Qian Ji said, “No time to explain more. Go quickly.”
Hearing his serious, urgent tone, Meng He Ze immediately committed the route to memory, not daring to linger, though his heart was reluctant and somewhat sorrowful: “I’ll do my best. Senior Brother, please take care of yourself.”
“Go now.” Song Qian Ji nodded.
Master Hua Wei wailed within the realm: “Didn’t you hear me say that the Three Lives Stone is unstable and may have been tampered with? Why aren’t you leaving quickly? Why are you still trying to save people?”
Song Qian Ji sighed: “Indeed, I find myself puzzling as well. After all, I’m not a good person.”
…
After the dizziness passed, Song Qian Ji felt a gentle breeze, a few drops of cool moisture touching his cheeks.
The spring rain was as fine as ox hair, dampening the gray tiles, white walls, and blue stone slabs. The rain-soaked street was quietly beautiful, yet the atmosphere was strange.
Most shops on both sides were closed, and pedestrians hurried along with oil-paper umbrellas, heads lowered, looking rushed. No one chatted or strolled, and no vendors were calling out their wares.
Song Qian Ji took a few steps, extending his divine consciousness to investigate. Apart from the sound of slanting rain and occasional footsteps, there was no other movement around.
However, across the street, a wine house was in an uproar, as if all the city’s excitement was concentrated there.
He carefully examined his meridians—he didn’t have many hidden injuries, and he had already reached the early Nascent Soul stage. He couldn’t help but feel relieved.
“This should not be difficult. Although Ji Chen was mad and eccentric in his previous life, he wasn’t as outrageous as the Evil Buddha—at least he didn’t hold auctions.” As Song Qian Ji considered this, he approached the center of the commotion and looked up to see three bold characters: Phoenix Immortal Tower.
White Phoenix County, also known as “Phoenix Immortal County,” had half its lands and properties owned by the Ji family.
The Phoenix Immortal Tower was the tallest building in the county and was also operated by the Ji family.
The abnormal quietness outside matched the abnormal clamor inside.
Song Qian Ji entered, and no one in the main hall spared him a glance, as if all their energy was devoted to drinking and merrymaking.
No waiter came forward to ask if he wanted food or lodging. Only a middle-aged Golden Core cultivator quietly followed him, clasping his hands in greeting:
“Senior, you’ve come to find someone, haven’t you?”
“You recognize me?”
“I couldn’t see through your disguise, of course, but I’m fortunate enough to recognize your sword. The Undying in a Hundred Battles Song Qian Ji never drinks or gambles—what are you doing in a wine house if not looking for someone?” The cultivator said proudly. “Since you have no friends, looking for someone must mean killing someone. Do you need my assistance? My prices are fair, and I’m at your service.”
Song Qian Ji asked: “Is Ji Chen here?”
The man pointed upstairs and, seeing his displeased expression, immediately walked away tactfully.
But Song Qian Ji heard him muttering behind his back: “Why has Song Qian Ji come too? He must be extremely expensive.”
The second floor was even more crowded, the atmosphere lively, with many beautiful women playing instruments and singing as they moved about.
Song Qian Ji immediately spotted the youth at the center of the crowd, surrounded like the moon among stars.
That youth called out loudly: “Bring another ten jars of Floating Life Wine!”
He was engaging in a drinking contest, downing bowls in a manner that showed no regard for his life, one after another.
The surrounding crowd cheered and applauded loudly.
The wine gave off a light green glow, served in ice-jade bowls, emitting wisps of cool air.
Song Qian Ji frowned. Why wine again?
Red Dust Wine, Floating Life Wine.
Good wines indeed, but the mortal world is illusory, and life is but a dream—how much joy can there be?
“Stop drinking.” Song Qian Ji parted the crowd and pressed down Ji Chen’s wine bowl.
Because of this action, everyone seemed to be hit by a freezing talisman, instantly falling silent.
Ji Chen wore silver cloud-stepping boots and a purple-gold outer robe, his hair tied in a high ponytail.
Every inch the arrogant young master from a wealthy family, he tilted his head back, looking down his nose at people:
“Who are you? What do you want?”
Song Qian Ji felt relieved, seeing that the other was neatly dressed, looking bright and dazzling, with friends accompanying him—he didn’t seem to have reached an irremediable state of madness.
“I’m also your friend. I’ve come to save you. I know you probably don’t believe it, but…”
Ji Chen leaned back against his chair, this time looking at him properly, quickly interrupting: “Of course I believe you! Why wouldn’t I believe you?”
He maintained his youthful appearance, his expression pure and harmless.
Song Qian Ji was immediately delighted. Could Ji Chen still remember him?
Or perhaps due to his madness, he was more inclined to believe in others’ good intentions?
He pulled out a soul-drawing talisman and with a slap, stuck it to the other’s forehead: “Come back!”
Ji Chen blinked in confusion, showing no reaction: “Come back where?”
The crowd burst into laughter, wine splashing everywhere.
He knew things wouldn’t be so simple.
Song Qian Ji tore off the talisman paper, sighing in resignation: “You don’t believe a thing!”
Ji Chen also laughed with the crowd, slowly rising, walking around the table toward him, and saying softly:
“Look at this building, this city—everyone here wants to kill me. You dare run over claiming to be my friend—aren’t you just rushing to your death? So why wouldn’t I believe you?”
His smile was innocent, yet somehow emanated an evil aura: “I’ve always been quite merciful toward those eager to die.”
Red Dust Wine was crimson, growing warmer with each drink. Floating Life Wine was pale green, growing colder with each drink.
As Ji Chen’s words fell, all the laughter and noise in the hall abruptly ceased, and everyone seemed to fall into an ice cave.
The atmosphere became as strange as that on the street.
“So it’s come to this time,” Song Qian Ji murmured. “No wonder.”
Three days later, on the night of the Awakening of Insects, would be when Ji Chen set up a formation to kill his entire clan.
One hundred years after Ji Xing’s death, Ji Chen returned to his homeland and told everyone he was back.
He said he would return to his ancestral home on the night of the Awakening of Insects to settle old scores.
Then he openly walked into the Phoenix Immortal Tower to drink, allowing his enemies to send all manner of people to negotiate and try every means to kill him, enjoying the sight of their struggle, panic, madness, and despair.
Experts hired by the Ji family continuously entered the Phoenix Immortal Tower, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Ji Chen appeared unaware, calling them brothers and drinking large bowls of wine with them.