Chapter 59 Part 1

“It’s a good thing you two came. That Onmyoji from Dongying was truly troublesome,” said the disciple guarding the ritual altar, glancing at the dead snake carcasses and breaking out in a cold sweat. He looked up at Fu Juan, and suddenly remembering something, slapped his forehead in surprise and delight. “Hey? Fu Juan, your legs are healed?”

Within the Xuanzhen Dao Court, even those who joined later had heard of the events from eight years ago and knew how the “pride of heaven” had fallen into the dust. Everyone knew the value of the Dao Bone, but without a matching Dao Body, there were limitations everywhere. That was precisely why the Dao Court had abandoned its plans to fully cultivate Fu Juan. But if she was healed now… under her brilliance, would there even be room for anyone else? That single move she’d just demonstrated was already beyond what most could ever achieve. And Jiang Yiguang—she was someone who had taken the saying “absolutely astonishing after a period of separation” to its absolute limit. Where had she learned that swordsmanship? Why weren’t either of them part of the “Enlightenment Plan” the Dao Court had initiated to deal with the Shenzhou calamity?

Fu Juan nodded at the speaking disciple, her gaze fixed on the pale green, foul-smelling miasma mist. “Is there truly no way to contact anyone inside?” she asked.

The disciple’s expression was grim as he nodded. “Yes.”

Jiang Yiguang also asked, “What about the Dao Court? Are there no other seniors coming?” The danger level for the “Baling Incident” was rated so high; surely they wouldn’t just leave it to the younger generation? Her gaze swept over the dense serpent carcasses, and a chill climbed her heart. Could all the snakes in Baling have been driven here?

The disciple frowned. “Alchemist Tao was supposed to come, but for some reason, there’s been no sign of him so far.”

Fu Juan nodded and stopped paying attention to the Dao Court disciple, instead focusing intently on the direction of Baling. Within the phantom of the “Nine-Headed Giant Serpent,” the green head twisting forward seemed forcibly added, appearing highly dissonant on the same black body as the other eight heads. “It’s an overlay of the Eight-Headed Giant Serpent and Bashe,” Fu Juan murmured, as if talking to herself.

Jiang Yiguang heard her murmur and couldn’t help but frown. “But they don’t share the same origin. How could this happen?”

“Bashe already died under Yi’s arrows in High Antiquity. The most likely scenario is a Remnant Soul revival.” Fu Juan lowered her eyelashes and pondered for a long moment before voicing her deduction. “It’s highly probable the Eight-Headed Giant Serpent has usurped Bashe’s mythical concept. That is precisely why it could enter the Mountains and Seas Realm and go north of the Red River to bring out Nü Ba’s breath.” Bashe itself was a relic of the Mountains and Seas. It grew up in the Mythical Era and possessed its own mythical concept, meaning the Mountains and Seas Rift wouldn’t reject its “ancient spirituality.”

Pausing briefly, she continued, “Although the Eight-Headed Giant Serpent has grown a ninth head, its spirituality doesn’t seem fully integrated. Baling, sitting atop Bashe’s bones for thousands of years, is most deeply imbued with Bashe’s aura. The serpent swallowing Baling is very likely using it to fully digest Bashe’s concept.”

“Is that so?” Jiang Yiguang paused, a sigh of lament escaping her. She turned her gaze to Fu Juan. “If that’s the case, would Yi’s mythical Authority also deter Bashe? And would the Eight-Headed Giant Serpent be affected as well?” Although the miasma ahead looked like the gaping maw of a beast ready to devour everything, Jiang Yiguang’s heart still stirred. The Dao Solitude Sword seemed to sense her emotions, vibrating with a soft, persistent hum.

Fu Juan met Jiang Yiguang’s gaze, a hint of a smile flickering in her eyes. She asked, “Shall we take a trip in?”

Jiang Yiguang exhaled and laughed. “Naturally.”

The nearby disciple hadn’t quite caught the earlier part of the conversation, but the final question and answer made him freeze. He quickly reacted, his eyelid twitching violently. Raising his voice, he exclaimed, “You’re going inside? No, no! It’s too dangerous! Alchemist Tao hasn’t arrived yet!”

“And what if Alchemist Tao is delayed and never arrives? Are we supposed to just wait here for the giant serpent to swallow all of Baling, leaving no survivors?” Jiang Yiguang glanced at the panicking disciple, raising an eyebrow. After all, in the previous crises, the high-level masters from the Dao Court were always mysteriously absent. This might be a deviation brought by “fate.” Even though her own shackles had shattered, it didn’t mean fate’s grip on others had vanished. Alchemist Tao and the others… might very well not appear in time.

The Dao Court disciple was speechless. He wanted to say “I’m coming with you,” but he had his duty to guard the ritual altar here. Their job on the perimeter was to hold this line, preventing the venomous serpent horde from crossing. He looked hesitantly at Jiang Yiguang and Fu Juan, but before his next words could form, they had already stepped into the miasma, their figures swallowed in the blink of an eye.

A thick, bloody stench mixed with putrid rot assaulted their nostrils, accompanied by a faint, nauseating smell of charred flesh. Jiang Yiguang covered her mouth and nose, pulling several fire talismans from her pocket and igniting them with a mudra. As the flames flickered and licked, the hissing serpent horde instinctively recoiled. Those too slow to veer off and charging forward were instantly cooked by the fire, emitting billowing steam. As Jiang Yiguang walked forward, she kept casting sidelong glances at Fu Juan beside her.

That sensation of fragmentation—of fate not being within her own control—had utterly vanished. But memories couldn’t simply be deleted with a single button press. The scenes of the past lingered like light and shadow, swirling in her heart, creating an indefinable, subtle sensation whenever she thought of Fu Juan. Treat her as a stranger? Even if she genuinely had that thought, considering everything that had happened, she knew it was impossible. Treat her as a friend? Yet she was certain Fu Juan was completely different from Lu Yaotiao. The selfish, obsessive desire to “possess” was long gone, but in a crowd, her gaze always, uncontrollably, fell first upon Fu Juan. How could she erase this “uniqueness”?

Fu Juan, always sharp, sensed it the moment Jiang Yiguang’s gaze landed on her. Jiang Yiguang’s stares were never long, yet they came repeatedly, probing something unknown. Fu Juan was slightly confused, but she suppressed the emotions stirring like willow catkins in the wind. She kept her gaze straight ahead without wavering. The fingers resting at her side unconsciously traced patterns. With a command, thunder descended from the heavens. The darting purple light, mixed with blazing fire, instantly cleared a hundred-meter radius of the serpent horde and miasma.

As the green fog obscuring their vision parted, a towering, majestic ancient city appeared before them. Flags atop the city gates snapped fiercely in the wind, carrying an ancient, distant aura. It somewhat resembled Baling, yet upon closer inspection, it wasn’t. “Is it a mirage? An illusion?” Jiang Yiguang frowned. “Did the missing people enter this city?”

Fu Juan replied, “Perhaps.” She turned to glance at Jiang Yiguang and softened her voice. “Let’s go take a look.” Jiang Yiguang nodded. Having come this far, there was naturally no turning back.

Inside the ancient city, the scene was indeed different from the present day. High and low buildings stood in staggered disarray, with black tiles and white walls, possessing a certain Jiangnan grace and charm. There were many people on the streets, all dressed in ancient Shenzhou attire. Upon seeing Jiang Yiguang and Fu Juan, they merely glanced briefly before looking away, showing none of the shock one might expect upon seeing “strange clothing.”

“Hey? Has no one dealt with that giant serpent sprawled across the road yet?”

“Back then, the master only left twelve great bows, saying that as long as someone used a bow to eliminate the serpent, we wouldn’t be swallowed. Eleven people have already failed; only the last bow with divine power remains…”

“What do we do? None of us can even draw the bow.”

“If we leave the bow in the city, will the serpent stop coming?”

“What nonsense are you spouting? Can’t you see the serpent is getting closer? We need to find someone who can draw the bow, quickly. Treat a dead horse as if it’s alive. If that doesn’t work, offer him as a sacrifice to slow the serpent down.”

…

In a small teahouse nearby, groups of two or three gathered, speaking with furrowed brows and worried faces. Jiang Yiguang’s eyelid twitched. Exchanging a glance with Fu Juan, she approached the group to ask for information. The people were quite enthusiastic. When Jiang Yiguang inquired, they all chimed in at once, describing their troubles. A man-eating giant serpent had suddenly appeared outside the city some time ago. The authorities had organized several suppression attempts, but every officer sent out never returned. Just as everyone was filled with dread, a Daoist in a white robe arrived, leaving behind twelve great bows imbued with divine power.

Jiang Yiguang listened patiently. When the chatter subsided, she asked, “Why didn’t you ask that Daoist to slay the serpent?”

The one answering rolled his eyes at Jiang Yiguang and spoke with conviction: “How can those outside the mundane interfere in matters of life and death in the human world? Giving us weapons already broke the precepts.”

Jiang Yiguang: “…” After a moment of speechlessness, she asked, “Then why don’t you just move away?”

The speaker’s face turned alternately green and white, finally sputtering, “What do you know?”

Jiang Yiguang’s gaze hardened. This story was full of holes. The people in the city were like illusions, pieced together from reality, controlled by someone else. They wouldn’t worry about anything outside their “programmed settings.” “Only one bow left. They’re waiting for someone who can draw it.” Jiang Yiguang thought for a moment, then muttered, “Doesn’t this feel like a reenactment of Yi shooting the ten suns? Could it be—”

Fu Juan finished the thought: “Using this to erase an obsession and unwillingness that has lasted for thousands of years.” The legend of Yi was already ancient history. There was no second Yi in the human world. Within an illusion constructed from the Eight-Headed Giant Serpent’s and Bashe’s lingering obsession, it could shape the bow-holder into the image of Yi. Each failed attempt to slay the serpent would then dispel a bit of the shadow hanging over its head.

Jiang Yiguang said, “Then… shall we take the bow?” Fu Juan, using the arrow’s spirituality, was now gradually approaching Yi’s mythical Authority of Shooting the Suns. No matter who left the bow, no matter what scheme Bashe had, it would likely come to nothing. She wondered what expression the Bashe Remnant Soul would wear when it saw the Dharma form that terrified it so thousands of years ago.

—

Outside the ancient city. A nine-headed giant serpent lay sprawled across the road. Eight of its heads drooped listlessly, as if submerged in a dream. Only a single head was raised, its emerald-green, slit pupils gleaming with a cold, sinister light. It stared, unblinking, at the group of people before it, their faces pale with terror.