Setting up a protective array around a Dragon Vein was never a task to be completed in a short time. After a single fault caused the entire array to collapse, both the Xuanzhen Dao Court and the Noble Clans had to start over. This meant the Wang family home never received anyone who could seek justice on their behalf. After much hesitation, they contacted the Dao Court again, reporting Tushan Yi’s brazen and reckless behavior.
Who knew if the Azure Hill nine-tailed fox would bring her entire clan to storm the Wang ancestral home a second time?
The Dao Court personnel, upon hearing the Wangs’ indignant complaints, felt like laughing. But they maintained some semblance of propriety and, after promising to handle it, actually went to speak with Tushan Yi. They weren’t there to pursue her guilt, only to ensure there was no second occurrence. Once was a personal vendetta, but if it happened again, that was another matter. The Court didn’t want to see a “fight to the death” between them.
Sprawled on the sofa, Tushan Yi drank her Happy Water and nodded lazily. The resentment in her heart was gone. The Wang family, having lost its backbone, bored her. She had no desire to waste more time on these mediocrities.
Hearing this, Jiang Yiguang was instantly curious. So that’s why Tushan Yi hadn’t been home when she returned—she’d been off taking revenge on the Wangs. “You really smashed their ancestral tablets? And they just took it?” Jiang Yiguang asked, a hint of schadenfreude coloring her tone. Watching someone you despised suffer misfortune was undeniably satisfying.
Tushan Yi gave a nonchalant hum.
Jiang Yiguang raised an eyebrow. She didn’t believe the Wangs had the forbearance to “swallow humiliation like spittle.” To suffer such a disgrace—enough to be mocked for a lifetime—without any retaliation meant they likely had larger ambitions. “The Wang family’s main force is all out repairing the Dragon Vein, right? What happens when they return?” Jiang Yiguang glanced at Tushan Yi.
Propping her chin, Tushan Yi smiled. “I have Azure Hill behind me.” Seeing Jiang Yiguang’s surprise, she continued, “We all emerged from the Mountains and Seas, after all. King Yu has been dead for millennia. Unlike the Human Realm, Azure Hill has choices. Even if I were more vicious… you humans… would probably just endure it, wouldn’t you?”
“Not necessarily,” Jiang Yiguang said, vaguely understanding Tushan Yi’s arrogant mindset. She shook her head seriously. “Small matters can be conceded, but on major principles, the Dao Court would likely choose to forsake such an ally.”
“Is that so?” Tushan Yi snorted lightly, clearly not taking her words to heart.
After a moment, Jiang Yiguang mused, “Actually, the best situation for the Divine Land would be an intact Dragon Vein, with the Mountains and Seas Realm forever on an unreachable other side.” But starting with the Southern Mountain fox spirit incident, the Dragon Vein had been continuously damaged. No… perhaps even earlier. A flash of insight crossed Jiang Yiguang’s mind, but before she could grasp it, the thought vanished.
Tushan Yi suddenly said, “Stopping isn’t as good as channeling.”
Jiang Yiguang quipped, “A lesson learned from King Yu controlling the waters?”
Tushan Yi didn’t answer.
Fu Juan’s voice interrupted, cutting off their exchange.
“I found Bo Qi’s whereabouts.”
Jiang Yiguang turned in surprise, staring at Fu Juan, a strange light flickering in her eyes. Her original plan was to wait patiently. Once inside the main quest, under fate’s push, Bo Qi was bound to appear. Perhaps Fu Juan’s actions were simply the result of fate’s guidance? Thoughts churning, Jiang Yiguang kept her expression calm. “Where?”
Fu Juan sighed. “A mahjong parlor called ‘Tai Shen’.”
Jiang Yiguang: “…” She’d imagined Bo Qi hiding in some obscure corner, not living this mundanely.
Tushan Yi asked curiously, “You’re looking for Bo Qi? What for?”
Jiang Yiguang replied, “I took a commission. We need to retrieve a dream Bo Qi devoured.”
“Oh,” Tushan Yi said, losing interest and flopping back down, clearly indifferent to the matter.
–
“Tai Shen” Mahjong Parlor.
The cramped room held only eight automatic mahjong tables. Over the rumbling crash of tiles came the booming, spirited shouts of elderly men and women. Most patrons were retirees from nearby neighborhoods, but amidst this crowd of seniors sat a young man with bleached-yellow hair. His dead-fish eyes seemed to have seen through all worldly vicissitudes, caring for nothing. His entire being radiated the listless, decadent air of a slacker.
“Xiaoqi, boy, you’re young and spry! Shouldn’t you be finding a job instead of playing mahjong with us old ladies?” a nagging voice sounded.
The yellow-haired youth’s eyelids twitched. He picked up a tile and drawled, “Kong!”
“Hey! Not again!” The old woman who’d been lecturing him instantly grew anxious, her focus snapping back to the game.
The yellow-hair grinned smugly. But suddenly, a premonition of disaster rose in his heart. His eyelids spasmed violently, as if heralding imminent calamity. He abandoned any thought of completing his hand, casually discarding a tile. Hearing the old woman’s delighted cry of “I won!”, he immediately pushed his tiles forward with a grin. “Congrats, Auntie! I’m off to find a job, see ya!” Without waiting for a reply, he slipped out of the noisy parlor like a nimble fish.
This yellow-hair was Bo Qi.
After leaving Shen City eight years ago, he’d secretly returned. He’d heard an Azure Hill envoy was in the area and planned to use her help to return to the Mountains and Seas Realm. Whoever wanted to stay in this Human Realm was welcome to it! But before he could prepare, he sensed someone calculating his origins! His sensitivity to changes in Heaven’s Secrets was exceptionally sharp. The Mystic Sects were full of diviners; without some skill, he’d have been skinned and deboned long ago! His aura being detected could only have one cause… After racking his brains, there was only one. Bo Qi was filled with regret as he darted into the winding alleys, cursing his moment of soft-heartedness.
Who would’ve thought anyone would chase after a nightmare?
Bo Qi ran at breakneck speed. Upon reaching a deserted area, he simply reverted to his true form, leaving only blurry afterimages on the mottled, moss-covered walls. Suddenly, his galloping steps halted. He let out a sharp cry, somersaulted in mid-air, and landed as a human again. He stared at the two figures emerging from the other end of the alley, squinting for a long moment before blurting out in shock, “It’s you?!”
Bo Qi’s memory wasn’t bad. And the person before him, for certain reasons, was someone he could never forget, even if he tried.
Fu Juan gazed coldly at Bo Qi. In her memory, he’d always been in beast form. She hadn’t expected him to cultivate a human form in eight years. Sensing no killing intent or malice from him, her expression softened slightly. “Bo Qi, we have questions for you,” she said gently.
Bo Qi was on high alert. “No need to ask! I don’t know anything about eight years ago!”
Standing beside Fu Juan, Jiang Yiguang’s eyelid twitched. She instinctively turned to Fu Juan, catching a flicker of darkness in her eyes. She knew the main quest couldn’t be that simple! They’d just wanted to ask about Lin Baicao, yet Bo Qi himself had blurted out “eight years ago.” That was a critical time node—the start of Fu Juan’s declining fortune in the story. The eight-year-old incident was recorded in the Dao Court’s archives. What could be so significant that Bo Qi was this guarded?
What was he afraid Fu Juan would ask?
A stifling depression, like a heavy, fierce pressure, radiated from her. Though it vanished quickly, it left traces of a Qi wave on the moldering wall. Suppressing the three words deep within, Fu Juan spoke calmly. “You recently devoured the dream of a woman named Lin Baicao, didn’t you?”
Bo Qi frowned. It took him a moment to recall the name. His face darkened. “Yes,” he admitted sullenly. He grumbled inwardly—if not for that woman, his aura wouldn’t have leaked. Understanding Fu Juan and Jiang Yiguang’s purpose, he secretly sighed in relief and explained, “Her mother requested it.” After sneaking back to Shen City, he’d had no intention of devouring dreams. But the ghost of the haggard old woman was so pitiful. Plagued by years of guilt, he couldn’t refuse a mother’s plea.
Lin Baicao’s mother… wasn’t she dead?
Jiang Yiguang felt a chill, but then reconsidered. The ghostly aura on Lin Baicao—her mother’s lingering obsession must have been near her. That made sense.
Bo Qi shrugged. “She didn’t want her daughter having nightmares anymore.” After the old woman died, her obsession didn’t disperse. She became a ghost, wanting only to see her only daughter one last time. But her proximity, more or less, influenced her daughter, making the dreams clearer and more frequent. “The hearts of parents are truly pitiable.” Bo Qi sighed, glancing at Jiang Yiguang. He used to frequent the Fu residence and naturally recognized the little tagalong. A mortal whose spiritual apertures were shut… and now she bore traces of Qi. How much effort must it have taken to grow this little sprout to its current state?
He added, “You must understand, nightmares harm the soul. I devour nightmares for others’ benefit.”
Fu Juan gazed steadily at Bo Qi and spoke calmly: “Is it only nightmares you devour?”
Bo Qi stiffened, then forced a laugh. “What else could I devour besides nightmares?” Realizing his smile was strained, he dropped it. His dead-fish eyes drooped. “Is there anything else? You just wanted to ask about the nightmare, right?”
Fu Juan turned to Jiang Yiguang. “What do you think?” This was Jiang Yiguang’s commission; she wouldn’t overstep.
Lin Baicao hadn’t been looking for a nightmare. She’d only wanted to see her mother. Too much regret and guilt entangled her. If her heart’s knot wasn’t untied, she’d likely find no peace for the rest of her life. Among the Seventy-Two Earthly Fiend Techniques lay the Nightmare Prayer, but illusions were ultimately false. If Lin Baicao’s obsession ran deep, she’d see through the dream. “You met Lin Baicao’s mother. Do you know where she is now—”
Before “where” could leave her lips, the sound of ripping air cut her off. Jiang Yiguang’s brow furrowed sharply. Her Ritual Sword sang as it left its sheath. A sweep of sword wind sent an iron dart clattering to the ground. Under Tushan Yi’s training, Jiang Yiguang’s swordsmanship had progressed immensely. Holding the sword, her entire being radiated a frosty sharpness, as if she could sever a dragon in the northern sea. From the direction of the projectile, the figure that emerged was no Daoist, but a… Shikigami!
“Onmyodo? A Shikigami?” Jiang Yiguang hadn’t expected such an assassin. She turned to Bo Qi, who showed no surprise. “Don’t tell me you offended an Onmyoji while fleeing abroad?”
Bo Qi’s face flushed crimson. His lifeless eyes bulged. “What do you know?! Th-this is—” He gnashed his teeth, but the final words wouldn’t come. He was nothing like those ferocious, battle-hardened Great Demons. In the dream world, he was invincible, but in terms of real combat power, he might not even beat a goose.
“Deal with it! Or we’re all finished!” Regret surged to a peak in Bo Qi’s heart. Yes, those people were never going to let him go. Why had he clung to hope? These young successors could find him—so could that gang! His eyes darted around, and he found a noble-sounding excuse. “How can our Divine Land Continent tolerate foreign monsters running amok?”
Jiang Yiguang: “…” She mentally spat at Bo Qi, then turned to Fu Juan. “I’ll handle it,” she said in a low voice before stepping forward with her sword. Bo Qi didn’t need to say more; she knew this Shikigami had to be dealt with. Its malice was undisguised. The Shikigami’s presence meant a foreign Onmyoji had entered the Divine Land. If it was just for scholarly exchange, fine, but what if their intentions were malicious? The Divine Land was about to face the impact of the Mountains and Seas’ revival. This ancient dragon had witnessed countless vicissitudes, leaving behind innumerable vast legends over endless years. What outsider wouldn’t want to feast on its blood and bones to empower themselves?
Whether by nature or fate’s design, Jiang Yiguang always placed unidentified intruders in the “evil” category.
Though she held a Ritual Sword and used the Dark Lady Sword Art, she was no emperor. She didn’t need the magnanimity to embrace all things. She knew only that whoever was her enemy should be cut down! Her sword qi suddenly erupted, vast and surging like an ocean. Jiang Yiguang kept her focus on the sword’s sharpness, its speed. No matter the cultivation, upon reaching its pinnacle, everything returned to “One.” Law could break law, force could break law, and the sword could also break law! Wild spiritual energy shot skyward. Her sword tip traced an arc, rapidly shredding the spells clinging to the foreign Shikigami.
Fu Juan watched quietly, her right hand tightening on the armrest of her wheelchair—the starting gesture for a Heavenly Constellation Divine Power. If anything went wrong, she would join the fray immediately. Compared to her calm, Bo Qi was a mess of nerves, eyes darting, searching for a chance to slip away during the fight. He knew Fu Juan was a genius, but she hadn’t shone in the Dao Court for eight years. Perhaps the tribulation eight years ago had caused irreversible damage to her Dao Bone. If so, escaping her would be easy. Settling on this thought, Bo Qi exhaled in relief, a furtive smile curving his lips. He silently took a step back, just about to use an escape art, when two Yellow-Scarf Divine Soldiers suddenly materialized behind him, each grabbing a shoulder.
“Bo Qi, where do you think you’re going?”
Bo Qi: “…” This wasn’t fair. He hadn’t even heard an incantation—how could Fu Juan command the Divine Soldiers? He frowned, studying her cold, sharp features. It dawned on him belatedly that the current Fu Juan was even harder to deal with than the child she’d once been. Back then, a hint of youthful vivacity still lingered in her. But after such drastic upheaval—Bo Qi instinctively tried to use his divine power, attempting to devour Fu Juan’s “nightmare.” But with a single glance, he was violently repelled by the dense, gloomy, infinitely malicious negativity entwined within her. His face went white as a sheet. He couldn’t help but curse under his breath.
“What did you see?” Fu Juan’s eyes were dark and deep. Beneath the placid surface churned a terrible, raging current.
Bo Qi broke out in a cold sweat. “N-Nothing. I saw nothing.” He didn’t dare meet her gaze again. He shifted his attention to Jiang Yiguang, still entangled with the Shikigami. Unable to hold his tongue, after a brief silence, he blurted, “Who taught her? Wasn’t she born dull, her apertures sealed?” Such a person living an ordinary life was no issue, but born into a Mystical Family? A disaster. Though the Jiang family… after Jiang Li disbanded the clan and leaned toward the Dao Court, the term “heiress” had lost all meaning.
Fu Juan said blandly, “A late bloomer.”
Bo Qi internally scoffed. Jiang Yiguang didn’t look like much of a “vessel.” But as he looked up, he saw her wielding her sword. The Ritual Sword hummed and vibrated, struggling to contain the overflowing power. Twisting, striking, cleaving—everything before the sword spun into darkness. The so-called Onmyodo arts couldn’t withstand a single blow.
Fu Juan asked again, “Who did you offend?” That Shikigami’s abilities were mediocre, just slightly stronger than Bo Qi.
Bo Qi drooped, his face a mask of misery. “You wouldn’t want to know.” He paused, then tried again to struggle. “You’d best stay away from me. If I drag you down, it’ll be bad.”
Having watched the Shikigami dissolve into ash and scatter in the wind, Jiang Yiguang heard Bo Qi’s weak words. She drawled, “Isn’t it possible you’ve already implicated us?”
‘Bo Qi devours dreams.’ Lin Baicao was the hook; the focus was Bo Qi.
Raising an eyebrow, she looked at the ashen-faced Bo Qi, her tone teasing. “Just what kind of enemy did you make? Don’t tell me you owe gambling debts abroad?” A Great Demon hiding in a mahjong parlor with a severe addiction—improbable, but possible.
Bo Qi’s forehead veins bulged. “How could that be? I always win when I gamble!”
Fu Juan lifted an eyelid. “Where were you planning to hide? Back to the Dao Court to serve time?”
Bo Qi shot back, “Wouldn’t that be walking right into the trap?”
Fu Juan’s lips curved into a cold smile. “So, among those you’re avoiding, there are cultivators from the Dao Court, yes?”
Bo Qi: “…”
