Chapter 89: Ye Zi’s Inner Voice Part 1

Ye Zi didn’t even need to open the Yellow Springs to take Wang Ya along the Yin Road, nor did she need to enter the cemetery. She stood on the highway outside the cemetery and gathered the Yin Qi from the cemetery and even several li around into a one-square-meter area under her feet. Massive amounts of Yin Qi surged along with the energy Ye Zi released, forming a pitch-black vortex beneath her feet. Roots of the Yellow Springs Other Shore Flower extended from that pitch-black vortex, spreading out to cover the ground under Wang Ya, Wang Cheng’an, and Ye Zi, wrapping them into a giant cocoon that burrowed into the pitch-black vortex.

Once the giant cocoon woven from the roots of the Yellow Springs Other Shore Flower sank into the vortex, the vortex disappeared, and the highway returned to being flat and smooth as if nothing had ever happened.

Wang Ya was geographically illiterate, but she was still better off than Ye Zi, who had come to the human world for the first time with no concept of the Yang Realm’s terrain. When Ye Zi asked her which way to go, she told Ye Zi to head due south until they reached the sea.

Ye Zi calculated the direction, then used her Yin power to break through the spatial barrier between the Yang and Yin realms, spiriting Wang Ya and Wang Cheng’an away into the territory of the Underworld…

Wang Ya stayed in the giant cocoon wrapped by the roots of the Yellow Springs Other Shore Flower for about five or six minutes before the roots that had enveloped her and Wang Cheng’an suddenly vanished, revealing a graveyard before her eyes.

The Yin Qi in the nighttime graveyard was very heavy, and the cold wind blowing head-on carried the salty tang of the ocean, telling her that she had arrived in the Southern Province.

Nearly a month of underground life had long accustomed Wang Ya to the darkness; she could see clearly even without any light source, let alone on a night with some star and moonlight?

Wang Ya didn’t linger in the graveyard at all. She led Wang Cheng’an and Ye Zi out of the graveyard toward the direction of bright lights. They walked for nearly an hour and a half before reaching the city district. Wang Ya found a guesthouse and booked three rooms—one each for her, Wang Cheng’an, and Ye Zi.

Wang Cheng’an said he was hungry, and it was just the prime time for late-night street food stalls. Wang Ya took Wang Cheng’an and Ye Zi to a seafood stall for some midnight snacks before returning to rest.

Wang Ya returned to her room, locked the door, and collapsed exhausted onto the bed. Slowly, bit by bit, she curled up into a ball, hugging her head tightly with both arms, burying it in her chest, bending her legs, and shrinking into a shrimp-like shape to ease the stabbing pain in her heart. She told herself to be strong, but she couldn’t control her tears. She told herself that the dead could not be brought back, and the living should live well, but she missed her grandma. She felt like she had become an orphan—a true orphan through and through. She told herself to Refining the Heart, not to let others’ malice breed hatred in her, but how could she not hate after her family was destroyed?

In front of others, she could still control her emotions and put on a strong front. Underground, she could still tell herself to return to the human world and live upright, using that stubborn belief to support her and force herself not to break down. She desperately told herself to live well, to be rational, to be strong—but damn it, she had grown a human heart, not scales; her heart was made of flesh, not forged from iron!

She didn’t hate? Her family was destroyed, and she didn’t hate? She had almost been raped to death, and she didn’t hate? Even if she was a demon who wrought havoc on the world for a millennium, that was her past life, a thousand years ago—the dynasties had changed several times over. Why should she bear the burden? On what grounds did they judge her? Drag out those from the Orthodox Xuanmen Path and look back a few generations—could they swear they had never done evil or committed sins? Even if she had wrongs in her past life, that Flower Demon from her previous life had died miserably and paid a painful price, even forfeiting her life—wasn’t that enough? She had the Yin Spirit Scroll in her hands; did it belong to them? Because of one Yin Spirit Scroll, on what grounds did they force her grandma to death, demolish her house, chase her until she was homeless, fleeing into the Yellow Springs and the Underground Palace to escape? On what grounds?

Wang Ya didn’t want to hate, didn’t want to rage, but she couldn’t suppress the grief in her heart. The one who died was her grandma!

The sins of her past life—that life had already ended so miserably—did they still demand she pay in this life? Exorcise demons and protect the dao? Ghost Granny had killed so many people and harmed the innocent; her crimes were right there in front of them—why didn’t they exorcise demons and protect the dao against her, instead allying with her?

Wang Ya somewhat understood why the Flower Demon of old had joined forces with the Nine Great Vassal Lords to commit such atrocities. Because her heart held too much grief and resentment, because she had endured too much harm, pain, and injustice, because her heart was bleeding. They pointed knives at her, flayed her skin, shaved her bones, sliced her flesh—should she respond with a benevolent heart, a Dao heart? That would make her a fool. The Flower Demon was a demon, not human—why should she harbor goodwill toward the humans persecuting her? Had humans ever shown her “goodwill”? Yes, the Feng Family! But the Feng Family had been exterminated.

The common people were innocent, demons wrought evil—but which demon had not once been innocent!

Wang Ya desperately hugged her head, forcing herself not to think further. If hatred and rage filled her heart, she would destroy herself and unwittingly follow in the footsteps of the Flower Demon. But she couldn’t suppress her emotions, couldn’t control the ache in her heart—she missed her grandma.

She bit her lip hard; the stabbing pain in her heart made her body spasm involuntarily, tears streaming down in rows.

Suddenly, Wang Ya sensed movement at the window. She jerked her head up, her tear-filled eyes looking over. Her vision blurred by tears, she could only make out a vague silhouette, but that familiar aura told her it was Ye Zi. She quickly sat up, wiped the tears from her face, suppressed her sobs with effort, clenched her fists tightly, and tried to make herself look like she hadn’t lost control of her emotions.

Ye Zi floated lightly in through the window. Fortunately, she moved extremely fast and it was the dead of night; otherwise, if anyone accidentally saw her, they would think they had seen a ghost.