Chapter 72: Pouring Oil on the Flames Part 2

Wang Ya stared in shock at Zhang Qingshui, who buried her head and sobbed in grief. She was completely baffled! When had she killed the Zhang Family? She wanted to wipe them out, but she had kicked Zhang Min into the abyss only for Zhang Qingshui to save him. The Bronze Cauldron was strange; she jumped in, got struck by that inexplicable force, and passed out. Could someone asleep and dreaming kill people? Bullshit! Wang Ya recalled the massive Yellow Springs Other Shore Flower emerging from the cauldron’s mouth before she jumped—like the one she released upon first entering the Yellow Springs and unrolling the Yin Spirit Scroll. She figured that flower had done the killing, and Zhang Qingshui was pinning it on her.

Wang Ya coldly watched Zhang Qingshui cry; the harder she cried, the more satisfying it felt. Even if she hadn’t killed the Zhang Family—and even if she had—did their deaths mean Zhang Qingshui got to cry while ignoring the Feng Family’s losses? If these people led by the Zhang Family hadn’t hounded her relentlessly, would they have died here? Crying now! Hmph!

Wang Ya ignored Zhang Qingshui! With a light scoff, she averted her gaze. Seeing the surroundings sealed tight turned her face ashen. But pausing, she realized if the cave was truly airtight, she and Zhang Qingshui would have suffocated by now.

Refusing to give up, Wang Ya searched again, feeling the rocks three or four times back and forth. She found no cracks, but plenty of decayed human bones and fragments. She truly couldn’t figure it out: sealed so tight, how hadn’t she and Zhang Qingshui suffocated?

Zhang Qingshui cried a while, then stopped sobbing, hugging her knees and huddling motionless in the tent.

Wang Ya crossed her arms and glared at her: “Zhang Qingshui, done crying? Get up and find a way out. You want to die trapped here?”

Zhang Qingshui turned her head to look at Wang Ya but didn’t move.

Wang Ya saw her eyes red like a rabbit’s, bloodshot, her usual shrewdness and calm gone—utterly lost. She thought: During my coma, did Zhang Qingshui already search for an exit and fail, leading to despair? Though she loathed dealing with Zhang Qingshui, in this lightless tomb and with the psychological shadow of that corpse-blood-undead nightmare still fresh, seeing a living person—as long as she was alive—brought some comfort. She could open the Yellow Springs to leave, but where would it take her? Entering Yellow Springs without a guiding lantern in the Yang Realm meant no return—she’d end up in the Underworld Courts. Who knew what ghostly horrors lurked there; maybe her “dream” was one such scene. She had reached the Illusory Sea Labyrinth, one step from the Bardo Realm entrance. Opening Yellow Springs again might send her who-knows-where. Zhang Qingshui thought she killed her family and wouldn’t help; she and Old Tang were separated; she couldn’t read the Yin Spirit Scroll’s map anyway, nor hope to find another Bardo Realm entrance. Besides, why abandon the nearby one for some distant unknown?

Wang Ya walked to Zhang Qingshui and said: “No oxygen depletion means air’s getting in. If air passes, we’re not buried dead. We can find an exit.”

Zhang Qingshui remained still, staring intently at the nonchalant Wang Ya. She said: “Wang Ya, so many died by your hand—don’t you feel anything?”

Wang Ya looked at her bafflingly for a long time: “What reaction should I have? They wanted me dead; they died—should I cry like you? Ridiculous!”

Zhang Qingshui’s teeth chattered, her heart aching in waves. She asked: “Wang Ya, you killed them one by one with your own hands—living people turning to blood mist and dry bones in your grasp. Don’t you feel anything? Wang Ya, are you human or demon? Tell me: after slaughtering them, what were you lost about in the labyrinth? Who were you grieving? Why grieve?”

Wang Ya: “…” What the hell?

From Wang Ya’s expression, Zhang Qingshui sensed something off: “You… don’t remember anything?”

Wang Ya snapped: “Remember what? I wanted to kill them one by one myself, but did I have the power? That damn Taoist Priest’s palm made me spit blood; sword lights everywhere aimed at vitals. If I hadn’t jumped into the cauldron, I’d be dead! And that cauldron had no bottom! Before I splattered, I tried opening Yellow Springs to escape, but some weird force flung me away. I only heard you yell ‘Magic Array,’ felt a rope around my waist and arms hugging me from behind—then blackout! Zhang Qingshui, was the woman holding me you?”

Zhang Qingshui cried: “When I jumped in, you were already out of sight below. How could I save you?”

Wang Ya’s eyes bulged in shock: Then it was Ye Zi who fished us out from under the cauldron? She asked: “Was it Ye Zi who pulled us out from below the cauldron?”

Zhang Qingshui stared at Wang Ya like a monster, eyes wide as bells. Recalling Wang Ya’s earlier words, her already pale face drained of color. She cried: “I get it! I get it! It was that flower! The demonic flower at the cauldron’s mouth. No wonder it vanished when you tossed me and Old Tang out, while red light enveloped you and the space. Before, even Laoshan Wuchenzi couldn’t beat Ghost Granny, yet you suddenly erupted with such power; you know nothing of arrays yet precisely found the Array Eyes hidden in the Bronze Pillars amid so many experts’ siege, drove the labyrinth’s beasts to blood sacrifice, opened the Youming abyss, and summoned horrors.” Trembling all over, she wailed: “I was wrong! We were wrong—we misjudged!”

Wang Ya stared, stunned, at the terrified, near-collapsed Zhang Qingshui. She completely failed to grasp what frightened her or what she meant. She asked: “Zhang Qingshui, what did you misjudge?” Suddenly it clicked: Zhang Qingshui had schemed against her but miscalculated, leading to total annihilation here—hence her breakdown! Tsk tsk! Serves her right! Trapped in the cave, Wang Ya’s mood brightened. She laughed gloatingly: “Zhang Qingshui, no worries—misjudge once, judge again. We’ll keep cooperating. Hey, don’t collapse; stay calm. Future Zhang Family head needs steel nerves. Crumbling over this trifle? Hand the seat to me; I’ll lead the Zhang Family straight down Yellow Springs Road.”

Hearing this, Zhang Qingshui recalled how saving Wang Ya at death’s door cost her the last escape chance, trapping them in this dead end. Heart-wrenching pain surged; blood roiled in her chest. With a “puff,” she spewed a mouthful of blood and toppled over, fainting dead away.

Wang Ya: “…” Her lips pursed; she thought: Tsk, such poor tolerance! Zhang Qingshui, at least hold on! Seeing the blood, she figured Zhang Qingshui had internal injuries. It wasn’t acting—normal people didn’t spit blood from anger. She didn’t want her dying here. Who knew when they’d escape; a rotting corpse would torment her. If truly trapped, guarding a stinking body—she’d crack in days and open Yellow Springs, with slim survival odds.