Chapter 76: The Realm of the Past

The Divine String Melody was originally an ancient Yuefu topic, part of the Qingshang tune lyrics. During the Mid-Tang era, when the worship of shamans was growing ever more rampant, Li Changji composed three Divine String Melodies to mock the shamans for their phony communions with gods and spirits. Yet from the perspective of the Base, the events depicted in the Divine String Melody were probably not fabrications at all.

“A century-old owl transforms into a wood spirit, its laughter rising from the green fire in the nest.” Amid the azure flames conjured by ghosts and gods, the long, wicked cackle of malevolent spirits echoed faintly. Wisps of green smoke subtly hooked into the souls of passersby, drawing them into a world that felt like a dream.

And so Ye Jingqiu felt cold water drench her from head to toe. An icy chill blanketed everything, plunging heaven and earth into the desolate silence of creation’s dawn in an instant. Her vision swam, and she was yanked into an illusory realm caught between dream and reality.

Once again, the Polar Ice Sea. Once again, the Exotic Beast Dream.

The bone-piercing cold burrowed into her through every pore in her skin, the searing heat of her spine powerless against this rampant frost. She might as well have been submerged in the Ice Sea. With just a flicker of her eyes, the familiar grayish-blue sky loomed overhead.

Dark red clouds hung low, dense sheets of rain splattering down. Ye Jingqiu looked down on instinct—and there, sharp as day on the iceberg, was her own body.

Her corpse, more like.

“Ye Jingqiu” lay with eyes squeezed shut, brilliant scarlet blood pouring ceaselessly from beneath her, turning the iceberg into the canvas for a vivid, heavy-stroked oil painting. This time the Ice Sea held more than just the Candle Dragon; everywhere she looked, it teemed with all manner of monsters packed tight.

The Candle Dragon, vast as a mountain; Wangliang, eerie as a shadow; the Mountain Beast, ferocious as hammered iron…

The Candle Dragon rent her legs, while Wangliang bit madly at her shoulder. Four freakishly powerful giant beasts were carving up her corpse on the iceberg, and down in the depths of the Ice Sea, a pack of shrieking lesser monsters lapped greedily at the blood spilling from her.

Some consolation that her remains rated such attention—this scene captured the phrase “divide and devour” to perfection.

It was her third time stranded in the Ice Sea now. Staring at that face—her face—on the glacier, Ye Jingqiu felt an eerie disconnect from reality.

Her blood surged hot within her veins, and an impossible thought took shape. What if these were real events from her past?

If Zhong Qing was right, and her powers back then rivaled the Thirteen Laws, then as humanity’s frontline bulwark against exotic beasts, getting swarmed and torn apart by a horde wasn’t out of the question.

These exotic beasts showed an almost fanatical obsession with her flesh and blood. So far, both S-rank Exotic Beasts she’d crossed paths with had started out in mindless, indiscriminate berserk states. Was that tied to her blood and flesh… or to orders she’d issued before death?

The so-called laws and legends of resurrection came to mind, and Ye Jingqiu sighed at the sight of her savaged self.

She was in deep this time. Never mind whether she was really 180 years old—the roster of enemies alone was enough to drown her. Candle Dragon and Wangliang were S-rank; the other two couldn’t lag far behind.

They were snatching food from the Candle Dragon’s jaws, after all.

Ye Jingqiu let out a resigned wail. But just then, her “corpse” beneath the sky shifted to a faint golden sheen. Gilded flickers pulsed like breath, and “Ye Jingqiu” snapped her eyes open!

A roar like thunder rumbled faintly into being. The glacier—and the entire Ice Sea—shuddered. The ground heaved as if some vast frame had been upended, quaking violently. Icebergs split in massive avalanches, blood-sprayed floes exploding outward to stain the sky.

The Candle Dragon let go and bellowed downward, fresh blood dripping from its hideous, pallid fangs. Ice-blue floes turned a near-blood-red hue, and on closer inspection, the blood traced out eerie patterns.

No mere illusion—Ye Jingqiu rubbed her eyes. Radiating from her body at the center, a ring of bizarre golden light erupted across the glacier in a flash. Pinpricks of radiance converged, weaving together into a colossal Soul Array!

The elemental flows in that array felt achingly familiar—the same aura she’d sensed in both the Golden Hall and the Silver Hall.

The Candle Dragon’s roar became a signal to flee; Wangliang staggered back a few steps before plummeting into the Ice Sea.

One stone rippled a thousand waves. The lesser beasts, so eager for her blood moments ago, bolted in blind panic, as if something worse than the Candle Dragon loomed at their heels, draining every ounce of their strength.

But whatever force had summoned this Soul Array granted no mercy or time. Heaven rent, earth cracked, glaciers shattered—and with a deafening boom, a palace forged entirely from Deep Sea Pure Ice burst free of the ice.

Vaster even than the Candle Dragon Golden Hall, its pure azure blue gleamed unyieldingly solid as iron. Every ice block looked like a relic from a thousand meters beneath the Polar depths. The cold radiating from it hit like a physical force from afar alone. Perhaps these floes had endured in solid form since the Extreme Point itself.

The feasting beasts scattered like monkeys fleeing a felled tree, distant glaciers echoing with frantic footfalls. But Ye Jingqiu spared them not a glance. Her risen double had lurched to her feet, dragging her mangled body toward the ice gates. A groove marred the portal—like a keyhole.

“Ye Jingqiu” pawed blindly at her blood-drenched clothes. Ye Jingqiu had her suspicions and peered closer. Sure enough—”Ye Jingqiu” thrust aloft a Pixiu Round Jade Pendant!

It slotted into the groove without a hair’s breadth to spare. The Pixiu carved into the azure jade twisted its head as if coming alive. The gates cracked open, a torrent of golden light blazing forth, suffused with that familiar aura sweeping over everything.

Ye Jingqiu’s mind reeled. She strained forward for a better look—and in that instant, a thunderous crash swallowed the world in blinding golden radiance.

“Turns out you’re still in university, huh? Guess I’ll tip you extra then.”

The young Xie Pingzhi lounged against the ship’s railing, her thick, gently curling golden hair dancing in the sea breeze. She turned with a lazy smile, her azure eyes brimming with easy delight.

Ye Jingqiu blinked in confusion. She glanced down at her hands, dead certain this was her body—but what was with the outfit? It looked straight out of a traditional costume cosplay.

Wait—no! How had she ended up on a ship in the blink of an eye?

She gazed around in a daze. It was sunset, and the boat was gliding along a wide, serene river toward the open sea. The banks were lined with vast expanses of osmanthus trees and water irises—towering, sturdy giants and low-lying twin-leaved aquatic plants alike, their vibrant green leaves pulsing with life.

“Hey, why’d you suddenly go quiet?” Ye Jingqiu hadn’t spoken for a while, so Xie Pingzhi leaned in curiously. “Keep going! Did you end up getting that girl’s number?”

Ye Jingqiu: “…”

How did Xie Pingzhi manage to run into kindred spirits everywhere she went? Had her pickup skills really reached such absurd heights?

Fine then. Time to spin a tale.

“I got it, and she even agreed to date me,” Ye Jingqiu said, tears welling up in an instant, her face etched with fragile heartbreak. “But after just a few days of sweet bliss, she started flirting with someone else right in front of me. When I confronted her, she said she was disgusted by me.”

Xie Pingzhi let out a regretful “Ah.” “Why was she disgusted by you?”

Ye Jingqiu sniffled. “She hated that I already had a wife on the side.”

Xie Pingzhi: “?”

A bewildered, lost expression crossed her face. “W-Wife?”

Ye Jingqiu nodded sadly.

“Hold on a second,” Xie Pingzhi said. She’d never encountered anything like this in her life; her brain felt like it had short-circuited. “What do you mean your girlfriend dumped you for having a wife?”

Ye Jingqiu: “Exactly what it sounds like—I already had a wife, and then I started dating a girlfriend on top of that.”

Not far away, Zhong Qing: “…”

She was spouting the same nonsense as always.

Tired of all the chatter, Zhong Qing glided over to Xie Pingzhi’s side. She gently grasped her wrist, leaned in slightly, and whispered a few words into her ear.

In the blink of an eye, Ye Jingqiu watched as the spirited Xie Pingzhi suddenly stepped back, her ears turning bright red in a flash. She nodded shyly, stammering, “O-Okay, okay… then I’ll head inside and wait for you?”

Zhong Qing remained poised and unmoved, smiling as she bid farewell. “Mm. See you in a bit.”

Ye Jingqiu: “…A-Xie, so you have two faces after all!”

Xie Pingzhi vanished from their sight in a hurry. Zhong Qing turned back. “Ye Jingqiu?”

Ye Jingqiu nodded, but when she saw Zhong Qing leaning closer, she jerked back a step, her face brimming with righteous indignation. “Wait! Miss Zhong, just stay right there!”

“…What’s the difference?”

“I’m a college student whose heart’s been shattered by a woman right now. Once bitten, twice shy—I should be on guard against everyone!”

“…”

Zhong Qing stifled the urge to roll her eyes. “Then I’ll make this quick. You and I are both in A-Xie’s dream right now. You’re standing in for the tour guide we had back then. The only way out is to shatter A-Xie’s dream, and then we can truly confront Wangliang.”

“A dream? What exactly is this Divine String Melody instinct?” Ye Jingqiu frowned.

“It’s an Aether-type instinct. Our kind doesn’t survive the same way as the Candle Dragon, and our combat prowess is far inferior to other S-Rank Exotic Beasts,” Zhong Qing explained. “We excel at illusions instead. Divine String Melody reboots the deepest fears buried in a person’s heart, replaying the scene from that day. If the dreamer falls into the same trap and fails to break free, they’ll be trapped in the illusion forever, and their real body in the waking world will perish.”

Ye Jingqiu scanned the riverbanks, which looked just like those along the Chao Phraya River. Cautiously, she asked, “So A-Xie’s deepest fear is…”

“Five years ago, at the Bangkok Estuary, the moment I faked my death.” Zhong Qing spoke calmly, as if recounting something utterly unrelated to herself.

Ye Jingqiu paused for a beat before pressing on curiously. “So why are you and I here?”

“Divine String Melody has no effect on you—it can only hold you for a few minutes at most. But Wangliang wouldn’t let you go that easily, so she shunted you into the dream of the nearest person: Xie Pingzhi. That’s the extent of her power, though.” Zhong Qing deftly glossed over her own presence and fell silent.

“How do we break it?”

“Help A-Xie kill me,” Zhong Qing said, handing Ye Jingqiu the Quick Knife. “And make it quick. Right now, the entire city of Bangkok is ensnared in Divine String Melody’s illusion. Every second you delay increases the odds of those humans dying. Once the illusion shatters, you’ll face Wangliang head-on. Kill her, and it’s all over.”

Just as Zhong Qing finished speaking, a faint ticking echoed from the distant mountains, like some kind of signal. Then came the sound of familiar footsteps from the far end of the deck.

Ye Jingqiu looked up and froze slightly.

It was the Captain.

Shi Zui, clad in a black shirt, wore a stern expression. Her right hand was making final adjustments to her glove’s clasp. Her deep black eyes were as still as the Chao Phraya River, her face impassive as she descended the gangway. The dying sunlight gilded her somewhat gaunt silhouette.

She looked terrifying—more so than their first encounter on Chongming Island.

Trailing behind the Captain was Zhou Xianhui, whose face seemed a touch younger. She still carried that gentle smile, murmuring something softly to Shi Zui, who remained utterly silent, merely nodding occasionally.

“Are the Captain and Sister Zhouzhou illusions too?” Ye Jingqiu asked in disbelief. “They look way too real.”

“They were both on that boat back then, but Zhou Xianhui is an illusion. As for Shi Zui… her situation is unique. I’m not sure.” Zhong Qing hesitated, which was rare for her.

As they spoke, Zhou Xianhui halted, but Shi Zui kept walking forward. For some reason, Ye Jingqiu had a premonition: Was the Captain here for her—the stand-in?

Sure enough, seconds later, Shi Zui stopped right in front of her!

“I know you’re the famous local tour guide around here. Care to do a bit more business?” Shi Zui’s voice was flat, devoid of any pleasantries. “Triple the price. Travel with us after we disembark.”

Ye Jingqiu looked up. The Captain’s cool gaze felt like a thousand-mile wall.

Hmph. At this point in time, the Captain was already stargazing and moon-gazing with Little Cat and Aether! Why was she still so cold to me?

Even if Divine String Melody had clouded her eyes, Captain, you’re breaking my heart!

Evil intent flared in Ye Jingqiu. She agreed readily. “Sure, but the payment I want might be a little… unique.”

“Just say it straight.”

Ye Jingqiu pretended to mull it over for a moment before looking up with a solemn gaze. “Tell you what—you flash me a smile, and I’ll lead the way.”

Shi Zui: “?”

Zhong Qing: “……You’re really asking for it.”