In the past, if Jiang Yiguang were cut by a blade, she’d immediately rush to the hospital for a tetanus shot. But now, having stepped into the supernatural world, she just wiped the blood away with her hand and waited for it to dry. She didn’t take the handkerchief Fu Juan offered, instead lowering her gaze to look at Fu Juan’s right hand for a moment and letting out a soft sigh. She didn’t bandage Fu Juan’s wound, but pulled a candy from her pocket and pressed it into Fu Juan’s left hand with a carefree grin.
“Thank you,” Fu Juan responded reflexively. Jiang Yiguang hummed lightly in reply, then promptly urged Zhao Sujie to keep moving forward. After Jiang Yiguang left, Fu Juan used her bloodied hand to peel off the candy wrapper and popped the sweet, tinged with the metallic taste of blood, into her mouth. The sweetness spreading across her tongue held a hint of bitterness, like a tragic fate hidden beneath a beautiful facade. Even a sliver of hope couldn’t mask its essential bitterness. The gentleness on her face gradually faded. Her black hair, draped over her shoulders, stirred slightly, and her expression returned to its usual detachment, leaving no warmth in her eyes. She glanced back at the pit where all the negative-energy souls were now liberated and said, “Let’s continue forward.”
Leaving the secret chamber led to another long corridor, but having been rammed through by the headless golden man, it was riddled with cracks, seeming ready to collapse at any moment. Jiang Yiguang was exceptionally quiet now, her smile gone, not saying a word. Zhao Sujie, uncomfortable with the silence, rolled her eyes conspiratorially and leaned closer with a grin. “Hey, got any more candy?”
Jiang Yiguang glanced at her sideways and answered without hesitation, “No.” Zhao Sujie let out a soft ‘tsk’. “Before, I heard your relationship with Fu Juan was terrible, that she detested you. But looking at it now, it’s not like that at all.”
“Figured that out too, did you?” Jiang Yiguang chuckled lightly. Zhao Sujie said, “Intuition! You could keep trying, you know? What if it works out?”
Jiang Yiguang retorted, “Try what? Become a laughingstock all over again?” She was calm and rational now, having absolutely nothing to do with being a desperate simp. At most, she needed to find an appropriate distance. Of course, if she couldn’t find it, it didn’t matter—she could just keep extending the distance indefinitely. With time, memories would be buried deep, and those feelings, driven by mere inertia, would also fade. Zhao Sujie was speechless. Jiang Yiguang’s pursuit of Fu Juan had never been hidden. This fact had circulated widely as a joke among the Mystic Sect and noble clan disciples. One was a naturally dull, talentless waste, shut off from the Dao; the other was a Mystic Sect genius who flashed brilliantly like a meteor only to fall into the dust. Even saying the word “compatible” was always filled with mockery and derision.
Zhao Sujie used to think Jiang Yiguang, with her relentless pestering of Fu Juan, was utterly shameless, abandoning her dignity for a woman. But after actually meeting Jiang Yiguang, she realized she’d been wrong. Truth and falsehood were intermingled. This person, Jiang Yiguang, wasn’t a waste—she was exceptionally deep and scheming!
Jiang Yiguang had no idea what strange things Zhao Sujie was thinking. Sword in hand, she quickly navigated the corridor and finally stopped before a palace with tightly shut doors. That feeling of unease grew heavier, reaching its peak when she saw the shattered terracotta soldiers on the ground! “Hiss, who did this? Wang Xuanming? No, not likely,” Zhao Sujie gasped. The terracotta soldiers’ spirituality was completely shattered on the ground. The air around them no longer swirled with eerie ghostly Qi; instead, it was filled with an immensely soothing spiritual energy, as if they were immersed in a spirit spring. She could barely suppress the urge to circulate her energy cycles and absorb the Qi for cultivation. But upon hearing the sound of a sword scraping against flagstone, she forcibly held back the impulse and turned to look at Jiang Yiguang, who was hacking her sword at the palace door. The impression of a profound strategist instantly warped into that of a brute.
“It’s the dragon vein’s aura,” Jiang Yiguang said abruptly. She’d drunk tea made with Dragon Vein Quintessence, eaten medicinal cuisine infused with it—her identification of the dragon vein’s aura couldn’t be wrong. Besides, this very Ghost King Mausoleum was situated atop a dragon vein, though the rampant ghostly Qi and evil energy had previously suppressed it. Now, however, the situation seemed reversed. The surging sword Qi instantly broke through the not-so-sturdy palace doors. With a thunderous crash, they collapsed, revealing the scene within. A headless emperor in black ceremonial robes knelt on the ground, his hands raised high, holding up a letter.
Zhao Sujie was once again stunned speechless by the sight. After a long moment, she squeezed out a trembling sentence: “…If I remember correctly, the Ghost King in the footage from back then looked exactly like this.” That fierce and powerful Ghost King, who had once caused a great calamity, had now been beheaded, not a single trace of spiritual energy remaining on him.
Jiang Yiguang remained silent. She’d thought this dungeon would create a new “human horror,” but compared to the previous two, this one—sounding so terrifying and evil—was more like a vacation. She’d reached the “finish line” without doing anything. Casually checking her character panel, she saw the main quest was somehow already complete. The system seemed to have utterly crashed, leaving only a persistent “zzt-zzt-zzt” crackle of static.
“That letter… what is it? Could it be a trap?” Zhao Sujie hesitated, then turned to Jiang Yiguang. “How about I use Bag Retrieval Spell to get it, and you cover me?”
Jiang Yiguang was silent for a moment, then finally nodded slowly. “Alright.” Sword raised, her nerves taut, a sense of imminent violence swirling around her like a wind ready to burst forth at any moment. But until Zhao Sujie successfully retrieved the letter, no anomaly occurred in the palace. Just as Zhao Sujie was about to open the letter, she noticed a line of forcefully elegant small characters out of the corner of her eye and frowned, reading aloud: “For Jiang Yiguang and Fu Juan?” She spun sharply towards Jiang Yiguang!
With her eyesight enhanced, Jiang Yiguang also spotted the extremely familiar handwriting. Her expression shifted dramatically. She snatched the envelope and tore it open. Two sheets of letter paper slipped out. Jiang Yiguang held them with trembling hands, her eyes instantly reddening. The first sheet held only one line: Yiguang, from now on, walk forward bravely and freely. You can do whatever you want.
The other sheet began with the two words “Fu Juan,” filled with dense writing. After just a glance, Jiang Yiguang averted her eyes. This was what her mother had left for Fu Juan. She’d been here—but where was she now?! Jiang Yiguang bit her lower lip. In a low voice, she said, “Let’s go,” and then dashed out of the palace. Startled by her action, Zhao Sujie looked perplexed but followed.
Minutes later, they encountered the Xuanzhen Dao Court group again. Jiang Yiguang’s gaze landed directly on Fu Juan. She rushed over like a gust of wind, shoving the letter paper into Fu Juan’s arms and saying hoarsely, “It’s a letter from my mother, for you.” She desperately wanted news about Jiang Li, but that was a letter for Fu Juan. What was left for her were only a few brief words. She could trace her mother’s form within those strokes—strict, detached, tinged with a hint of helplessness.
So Aunt Jiang had been to the Ghost King Mausoleum. That explained their smooth journey here, encountering no obstacles. Fu Juan was slightly dazed. Under Jiang Yiguang’s urgent gaze, she quickly scanned the letter. Her expression shifted abruptly. Her already bloodless face became even more pitifully pale. She gripped the letter paper tightly, as if wanting to crush this thin sheet that carried so much.
Aunt Jiang didn’t mention where she currently was. She only wrote about being hunted by Zhao Qiande and Zhang Suzhi’s people in Jiang City and ultimately falling into a sealing rift. She said most of the negative-energy souls in the Ghost King Mausoleum were suppressed, and the terracotta soldiers, golden men, and even the Ghost King itself with any real spirituality had been slain. The Xuanzhen Dao Court only needed to handle the aftermath; there would be no further trouble from this source. She also mentioned her father and mother, saying she sensed a strand of pure “true Qi” within her father’s body. Therefore, she simply suppressed the “ghostly evil” that her father had become. The rest, she said, was for Fu Juan to decide herself. At the very end, she mentioned the “ghost-fire baleful Qi.” If it were just the Ghost King, perhaps it wouldn’t be so severe, but with the presence of Nü Ba’s breath, the situation was entirely different.
According to legend, during the Yellow Emperor’s battle with Chiyou, the Heavenly Maiden Ba descended from Kunlun to help the Yellow Emperor stop the storms. Afterward, she dwelt north of the Red River and never returned to Kunlun. After King Yu suppressed the Mountains and Seas, Nü Ba should have been cut off from the human world too. How could Nü Ba’s breath still exist in the human realm?
“Any news?” Jiang Yiguang suppressed her surging emotions, but her brief question still betrayed a pressing urgency. Fu Juan didn’t want to disappoint her, but if it meant lying, she couldn’t fabricate a single word. She opened her mouth, deliberating intensely. But Jiang Yiguang didn’t wait for her. Seeing her hesitation, Jiang Yiguang just smiled bitterly. “Didn’t say where she is, did she?” Her mother didn’t want her involved in the crisis? Or still thought she was incompetent? Fu Juan didn’t answer. After a pause, she changed the subject: “The Ghost King Mausoleum… might be connected to the Mountains and Seas Realm.” Jiang Yiguang had no enthusiasm for this, responding with a dejected “Mm.”
“The matter isn’t completely settled. My father—the ghostly evil—hasn’t been eradicated yet. According to Aunt Jiang’s letter, it carries something within it. Do you want to come see with me?” Fu Juan added. She had experienced the agony of losing both parents very early on and could empathize. But what use was it? Was her comfort even useful? Or should she let Jiang Yiguang witness an even greater pain? After all, whether someone’s situation was good or bad was often only apparent through comparison.
Jiang Yiguang looked down at Fu Juan, seeing only a heart-palpitating darkness and chaos, as if years of suppressed agony had all been awakened, pulling her into the abyss. Zhao Sujie hadn’t read the specific contents of the letter. Her thoughts spun quickly, finally scraping out a clue. Patting Jiang Yiguang’s shoulder, she deliberately lightened her tone. “The handwriting is very neat, no bloodstains. That means it was written calmly, without panic. In that case, the person writing it will definitely be fine.”
Jiang Yiguang was silent for a moment, then whispered, “Thank you.”
She hadn’t answered Fu Juan. But as a series of explosive sounds rang out, Tao Junran and Liang Maishan’s figures appeared, bringing with them “Fu Changheng,” immobilized by spells. After several rounds of combat, Tao Junran had finally bypassed the Shangqing Nine Cloud Sealing Talisman and discovered the anomaly within “Fu Changheng.” The last of the ghostly Qi in the Ghost King Mausoleum was being sealed. As a sacrifice to the Ghost King, he should have lost his power source, but he hadn’t. This long-dead body harbored something acting as a “dynamo.” After using the Partitioning Wall Penetrating Sight divine power, Tao Junran finally saw what was inside “Fu Changheng’s” body—a Taiji Fish Jade Pendant. It looked as if it had been forcibly embedded into his body.
After describing his findings to Fu Juan, Tao Junran added, “That should be something they left for you. If you want it retrieved, I can undo the Shangqing Nine Cloud Sealing Talisman.”
Fu Juan’s hands abruptly clenched into fists. The wound on her right palm split open again, fresh blood quickly staining her pants dark. Once this sealing talisman was undone, “Fu Changheng” would be freed from the chains’ restraint. The moment the item was extracted, the only outcome would be complete annihilation—neither ashes nor bones remaining. Over these eight years, she had gradually accepted that result. She’d never imagined this day would actually come, forcing her to make this choice. Thoughts tangled in her mind, but Fu Juan’s actual silence wasn’t very long. In a hoarse voice, she uttered a single word: “Take it.”
Jiang Yiguang frowned deeply. They were afflicted with similar tragedies. No, Fu Juan had suffered far more than she had. She wanted to reach out and touch Fu Juan’s head, or pat her shoulder. But the scenes from the past, intertwined with the turbulent currents of fate, tugged at her heart, leaving her emotions like a small boat adrift on a boundless, dark sea—lost and unmoored. Did she truly want to be close to Fu Juan? Or were these just residual traces of fate’s influence that hadn’t yet dissipated? She couldn’t figure it out. And regarding this uncertain emotion, something time could erode away, wasn’t the best course of action still to withdraw and leave it be?
