Chapter 35

Fu Juan stared fixedly at Jiang Yiguang. It wasn’t hard to detect the perfunctory tone. Her heart sank slightly—whether because of the earlier mishap or because she was troubled by other matters. The hand pressing on her leg exerted increasing force. She bit her lower lip, exhaled softly, and said, “I’m fine.”

Jiang Yiguang’s gaze didn’t shift away from Fu Juan. A flicker of surprise passed through her eyes. In the past, Fu Juan would never, ever have made a gesture like “biting her lip.” There was even a rare hint of vulnerability emanating from her. She realized that the Fu Juan before her now was gradually diverging from the unfeeling ice sculpture in her memory. Was the plot at work? Or had the past Fu Juan simply never revealed her truest self?

“But—” Wang Xuanming wanted to say more, his brow tightly knitted; his worried expression didn’t fade because of Fu Juan’s reply.

But Fu Juan gave him no further chance to speak. She lifted her eyes to look at the ghost generals and ghost soldiers she had summoned and calmly recited a spell, her voice even. The battle formation, not yet fully formed, had to be destroyed at this moment. The rumbling of drums echoed through the twilight; black banners materialized. The ghost soldiers formed ranks and marched toward that former place of mountain-high corpses and seas of blood!

“Heavenly prison, spirits and numina; Five-Qi Spirit Lords. Lead troops a million, aid my numinous might… Capture and send to the dark prison, eternal calamity, no rebirth!”

–

In the April dusk, the chilly spring breeze finally carried a touch of clarity and warmth. After scattering the peach and pear blossoms, the crabapple blossoms too began falling to the ground, starting to wither.

Ah He, the cat demon, darted nimbly through the streets and alleys, patrolling her territory as usual. Suddenly, she felt a surge of Yin-cold power sweeping over her like a frigid blast. Her fur immediately stood on end. Letting out a sharp, piercing “Meowwl!” she dispersed her little followers and shot like a black gale over the whitewashed wall—mottled with moss shadows and dappled flower silhouettes—racing toward her own little courtyard.

The moment she arrived home, her footsteps involuntarily lightened. The bristled fur settled; her movements became as gentle as every dusk when she returned home. The old lady was sitting in the courtyard, with needles, thread, scissors, and embroidery fabric laid out before her. Ah He’s heart instantly softened; she quietly approached the old lady and rubbed against her trouser leg.

“Ah, it’s Ah He, back again,” the old lady said, adjusting her reading glasses. Her voice was kind and gentle. In her youth, she had made a living through embroidery, but now that she was old, her eyes were dim, and her hands and feet no longer obeyed her. It had been a very long time since she’d picked up a needle and thread.

Ah He craned her neck, stood on her hind legs, and rested her front paws on the old lady’s lap.

On the embroidery fabric were two people and one cat.

Ah He could recognize herself and the old lady, but the other young person—she had absolutely no impression of her. “Meowwl?” Ah He cried softly.

The old lady smiled as she put her things away. She stroked Ah He’s head and said gently, “I’ve been dreaming of her often lately. It’s been over fifty years since she left. When she went away, she said she’d write me letters. But alas… I never received a single one. She was different from me. A proud, ambitious person like her—how could she possibly be willing to curl up forever in a tiny, broken-down alley?”

Hearing this, Ah He grew somewhat anxious, wanting very much to ask, “Who is she?”

Feeling sentimental, those dusty old matters suddenly stirred restlessly within the old lady. A desire to confide surged up, and she took the initiative to speak: “Her name is Yan Zhenghe. She was my savior, and also the person I’ve waited for my whole life… cough cough.” As the evening breeze blew, the old lady covered her mouth and coughed forcefully, yet her voice remained soft and gentle throughout. She had once, in a time of utter despair, managed to catch a wisp of wind.

Outside the courtyard.

The spell talismans on the walls emitted a golden light invisible to ordinary mortal eyes. Each talisman displayed divine, evil-repelling Daoist runes, blocking demonic and evil entities outside. An illusory ghostly shadow, dense with murderous aura, lingered outside. Its left hand and right leg were missing; gaping wounds riddled her body, dripping blood continuously—exactly how she had looked at death. She moaned twice, a sound akin to a beast’s low growl. In her right hand, she clutched a small bottle. She tried to cross the barrier created by the talismans, but the abruptly agitated “Qi Flow” solidified into substance, crashing against the small courtyard like a tidal wave.

The neatly stacked firewood toppled slightly for no reason; the water bucket also tipped over with a bang, seemingly without cause.

Ah He was terribly startled, her body instantly tensing. She stared fixedly at the gate, her pupils contracting into almost vertical slits.

“Why is the wind so strong?” the old lady muttered, her mood for storytelling gone. She tottered over to the well to tidy things up.

She couldn’t see that the Yang fire on her shoulders had grown even weaker under this blast of negative energy.

“Is someone knocking at the door?” After righting the water bucket, the old lady turned her head again.

Ah He whimpered “Woo,” leaped forward, and desperately clawed at the old lady’s trouser leg, absolutely refusing to let her go out. With negative energy and baleful energy so thick, it had to be that ferocious ghost come again!

The female ghost outside the courtyard fixed her bloodshot eyes fiercely on the person within. If she forcefully broke through these talismans, the resulting disturbance would surely frighten her. Over these long years, she had forgotten many things, clinging to existence solely through an obsession rooted in her very nature. In the end, she still didn’t continue charging the courtyard. She took a step back, and then, she heard the old Daoist cursing violently.

“Where did you take the life-extending medicine this time?! Sooner or later, I’ll put that old hag in the ground! Someone is destroying the battle formation—how can you not come back?!”

The evil Daoist, who had fled into a cave, was nearly dead from rage. He should have known that a female ghost would be so difficult to control; he should never have found her and refined her into a ghost general in the first place. Leaning against the cave wall, he resentfully swallowed several pills, striving to calm his surging blood and qi with a tranquil mind. But before long, he slapped the stone wall again with a palm, cursing, “Damn it!” If it weren’t for being injured earlier by those self-proclaimed righteous types, how could he have fallen into such a state?

“Hey, stinking Daoist, you were hoping those Yin soldiers could act as vanguard to deal with the Shield Qi in the dragon vein, weren’t you? I told you long ago it wouldn’t work. You’d do better to listen to me—use that family heirloom of yours, the Dragon-Slaying Art, and just sever the dragon vein directly.” A seductive, enchanting voice came, accompanied by a coquettish giggle. The evil Daoist’s expression stiffened upon hearing this. He drew a deep breath and walked toward the center of the cave, muttering in response, “The Dragon-Slaying Art severs dragon veins—it invites Heavenly Punishment. I just want to borrow the fortune of the dragon vein for cultivation; I don’t want to destroy it.”

At the furthest reach of sight lay a crude prison platform, surrounded by dense, swirling talismanic seals. Inside sat a palace-attired beauty of peerless, city-toppling allure.

Speaking of which, it still infuriated him. While leafing through ancient texts, he’d stumbled upon records of a “Nine-Tailed Fox” seal. Half-believing, half-doubting, he had actually managed to locate her at Southern Mountain. His original plan had been to use the inner core of a millennium-old Great Demon to elevate his own cultivation. Who would have thought this Nine-Tailed Fox lacked any inner core altogether, and even all nine of her tails were severed… yet she still lived, here in this world. He had secretly taken the sealed Nine-Tailed Fox away with him, never expecting the “South Mountain Fox Immortal Temple” incident would erupt not long after. He’d lived in fearful unease for a while, but discovering that the Xuanzhen Dao Court’s good-for-nothings hadn’t tracked him down, he finally felt relieved.

The evil Daoist offered a formal bow with clasped hands to the Nine-Tailed Fox and spoke politely, “This old Daoist comes again today to borrow some of your blood, my lady.” Without even waiting for Tushan Yi’s reply, he formed a seal and cast out a ritual sword, stabbing toward the Nine-Tailed Fox within the prison cage. The Nine-Tailed Fox merely looked at him coolly, her calm face betraying neither sorrow nor joy.

The evil Daoist had long grown accustomed to her reacting this way. He chuckled darkly, then reached out, using a spell to collect the drops of blood the returning sword brought back. This was, after all, a millennium-old Great Demon—the uses for her bone and blood were numerous. His eyes darted slyly. He added, “A nine-tail is a celestial fox of the Azure Hill lineage. Shouldn’t you have been in the Mountains and Seas Realm? Or perhaps even visited Kunlun? For you, milady, to survive without an inner core—could it be you consumed the divine flowers of Kunlun Mountain?

“Those old geezers deduced the Mountains and Seas are reviving. Heh, then we might yet see with our own eyes that legendary, magnificent Kunlun.”

The Nine-Tailed Fox cast him a flat look, inwardly cursing, “Fool.” This Daoist had no concept of what the Revival of Mountains and Seas Realm truly represented. Before King Yu cast the Nine Cauldrons to suppress the Mountains and Seas, several ancient-era Thearchs had already begun efforts to expel the ferocious beasts of the Mountains and Seas. “‘Shun served Yao, receiving guests at the four gates, banishing the four evil clans—Hundun, Qiongqi, Taowu, and Taotie—exiling them to the four frontiers to resist demons.’” Once the Mountains and Seas revived, these Four Evils would return to the mortal world.

But matters of the mortal world were none of her concern.

She too wanted to return to Azure Hill.

Far too many things had been forgotten in the past. Now, at last, she remembered her own duty. A thousand years ago, her sisters and clansmen had sent her away from Azure Hill, originally to find a path back to the human realm. But she herself had become lost within it.

The evil Daoist used the Nine-Tailed Fox’s blood to refine medicine and cultivate, hoping to recover his cultivation level as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, Fu Juan, Jiang Yiguang, and the others had entered the battle formation. The soldier souls there, bereft of a “General” to lead them, were merely scattered sand. However, far too many soldiers had died here. Simply liberating these lost souls consumed a significant amount of Fu Juan’s power and talismans. Just when she thought things could proceed smoothly, the rumble of drums rose again, faintly forming a confrontational stance. The wandering soldier souls, as if summoned by some force, after an initial moment of dazed stupor, coalesced with terrifying speed, transforming back into a unified, solemn battle formation.

Fu Juan gazed ahead and faintly discerned a heroic young female general, issuing commands methodically with a signal flag.

“Still came,” Jiang Yiguang murmured. Her body instantly tensed; her grip tightened unconsciously on the hilt of her ritual sword. Her left hand dipped into her pocket, pulling out the last few talisman beans. Muttering an incantation, she cast Scatter Beans to Form Soldiers. The Yellow-Scarf Divine Soldiers in golden armor quickly merged into the Yin soldiers’ formation, clashing with the soldier souls on this baleful, desolate battlefield.

Battle flags fluttered, sand and wind whipped fiercely, and the thick stench of blood spread across the desolate wilderness.

Fu Juan wheeled herself forward, taking the drumsticks from one of the guardian ghost generals.

The heavy drumbeats rolled like muffled thunder.

Jiang Yiguang felt a momentary daze, suddenly feeling she ought to be doing something. She glanced left and right, then finally took a step forward, standing guard to Fu Juan’s left with her ritual sword raised. The drumbeats were commands. If she were the enemy general, she would definitely “capture the leader to defeat the army”!

“These soldier souls, though they come from different eras—the combat techniques on them can all be learned.”

Fu Juan’s voice reached her ears.

Jiang Yiguang whipped her head around to stare at her.

Truly worthy of being the female lead! In such a life-or-death critical moment, she was actually thinking about learning combat techniques from soldier souls!