Nanshan Temple, back mountain.
It wasnât until a full half an hour after Song Yan and Ju Luyi had left that a figure slowly emerged from the woods.
...
His body swayed, his limbs were stiff, and he stumbled as he walked.
He was out of breath after only a few steps.
His face was pale and bloodless, and there was a fatal wound on his chest, where the blood had already congealed.
He practically crawled on all fours to the front of where Song Yan had buried the Nanshan Temple Disciples.
It was not a young face; his once distinct features were now painfully contorted.
His expression was one of unbearable grief, yet not a single tear could fall.
He wanted to roar in sorrow, but no sound escaped him.
His hands slammed heavily onto the ground, gripping the dirt fiercely, so hard that his knuckles cracked.
After a long while, he despairingly raised his head, gazed at the sky, and stared blankly.
...
If Song Yan were here, he would undoubtedly be incredibly surprised.
Because this person was none other than Lu Yuan, the Abbot of Nanshan Temple, who had already âdied and had his Dao extinguishedâ.
However, his current appearance had not a trace of a living personâs aura.
His limbs were stiff, his gaze was unfocused, his internal organs had already failed, and naturally, he had no pulse.
Instead, he resembled a Corpse Puppet.
How did he die?
He forgot.
How did he survive?
He forgot that too.
Only vaguely, he heard someoneâs murmuring in his ear, but he couldnât hear it clearly.
But he still remembered the Disciples of his temple, those vibrant faces, waiting for him to return.
Yet, when he returned to the temple, all that remained were corpses scattered across the ground.
A-Hao, Xiao Lian, A-Ming... his beloved juniors, the hope of Nanshan Temple, not a single one survived.
How could this be?
How could it be like this!?
He wanted to fight those three to the death, but there was always a strange power preventing him.
Like a wooden Puppet on strings.
It wasnât until Song Yan appeared... He sat silently before the cenotaph the young man had erected for him.
Song Yan was right; he couldnât remember who this young man was at all.
After thinking for a long time, with his current wooden brain, he couldnât find any impression.
...
After an unknown amount of time, he struggled to his feet.
He bowed in Song Yanâs direction.
Then, he stumbled down the mountain, eventually disappearing towards the northwest... Wen Dao Gorge, Danqing Courtyard.
Due to the trend of the Dao Childâs former residence, the Danqing Courtyard was now crowded with people.
A young girl with a childish face was sprawled on a messy ink painting, sound asleep.
Her Daoist robe was too loose for her; she folded her two sleeves together to use as a pillow.
Beside her stood another female Disciple; if Song Yan were here, he would recognize her as Xiang Zhaoling.
Xiang Zhaoling held a brush, drawing and writing on the girlâs face, occasionally covering her mouth to snicker.
"Mmm..."
The sleeping girl twitched her nose, feeling a little ticklish, "Ah... Achoo!"
"Stinky Lingâer, what are you doing?"
She raised her fair little hand and smeared her face wildly, getting ink from the painting all over her Daoist robe sleeves, which made Xiang Zhaoling burst into laughter.
"I finally got some sleep... I just had an interesting dream, and you interrupted it again, itâs all your fault."
She quickly lay back down, taking advantage of the lingering sleepiness.
She tried to continue her sweet dream from earlier.
"Senior Sister Zhou, why are you always sleeping and sleeping without stopping? Itâs so boring." Xiang Zhaoling sat down beside the girl, propping her face in her hand, watching her hazy sleeping face.
"Donât call me Senior Sister anymore; Master said I might be kicked to the outer sect in a few months."
The girl mumbled sleepily.
"Ah?"
Xiang Zhaoling looked surprised and a little annoyed; she grabbed the girlâs shoulders and shook her for a long time.
"Donât sleep anymore!"
"Youâve been in the sect for three years and youâre only at Qi Cultivation seventh layer. Itâs all because you sleep all day!"
The girl made a bitter face, rubbing her eyes: "I donât want to either, but not getting enough sleep is too uncomfortable."
"And dreaming is also very interesting. Compared to them, Cultivating is really... really..."
"Ha... too boring!"
"I was born to love sleeping, you say... if there was a method of Cultivating in dreams, how wonderful would that be!"
The girlâs name was Zhou Mengdie, and like Xiang Zhaoling, she was a Disciple of Lianyou Peak.
"How could that be possible..."
Xiang Zhaoling rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Donât bother me anymore, let me sleep a little longer... Arenât you here in the Central Plains to find a man? Go on, go find a husband quickly, donât disturb my sweet dreams."
"Hehe, donât you mention it, I met a cute and interesting Senior Brother before."
"Is... is that so... how is he cute and interesting..."
Zhou Mengdie was almost asleep again, her words slurred.
"Heâs clearly very good at finding the right moment to kill people and silence them, but he doesnât dare to face me directly, so he must be quite shy..."
"Ah?!"
The girl suddenly sat up from the table, her big, watery eyes wide with disbelief as she looked at Xiang Zhaoling, all sleepiness gone.
"Kill, kill, kill... killed someone?"
Xiang Zhaoling smiled sweetly and nodded at her.
"Where... where is that cute? Killing and fighting, where is that cute? Itâs too terrifying... Letâs report him to the authorities and have him arrested..."
"Hahaha..."
Xiang Zhaoling was amused again by Zhou Mengdieâs flustered expression.
"Senior Sister Zhou, why are you so timid? No matter what Dao you Cultivate, all paths lead to the same destination."
"If someone wants to kill you, how can you not kill them? Thatâs just how the world is."
Xiang Zhaolingâs sweet smile formed a strong contrast with the words coming out of her mouth.
"Wuwah, the world really is sinister..."
Zhou Mengdie clutched her head, trembling with fear: "No more Cultivating Immortals, no more Cultivating Immortals! Once Master demotes me to the outer sect, Iâll find an excuse to go down the mountain and never come back."
Xiang Zhaoling pouted: "Master dotes on you the most; demoting you to the outer sect, I think heâs just saying it."
"Really...?"
Zhou Mengdie paused, then vaguely scratched her cheek and asked, "But Cultivating Immortals is so dangerous."
Xiang Zhaoling chuckled: "Oh, itâs fine, no big deal, you can come back to Southern Xinjiang with me, Iâll protect you."
"In another half a year, the Sword Wiping Assembly will begin. After it ends, the Disciples of the sect can go down the mountain to travel. Iâll take you to Southern Xinjiang to play!"
"Okay... okay." Zhou Mengdie was still a little hazy: "Then do you have a flying Spiritual Artifact?"
"Uh... no."
"Then do you have confidence to win first place in the next Sword Wiping Assembly?"
"What are the benefits of getting first place?"
"I heard there are very powerful Medicinal Pill rewards, and you can choose many things. There should be flying Spiritual Artifacts among them, so we wonât have to walk."
"Very powerful Medicinal Pill, what kind of Medicinal Pill is that?"
Xiang Zhaoling didnât care about the flying Spiritual Artifact, but seemed a little interested in the Medicinal Pill.
"I donât know." Zhou Mengdie shook her head.
"No, then where did you learn all these things?"
"I..." Zhou Mengdieâs scratching finger paused on her cheek; she thought for a long time.
"I forgot."
"It seems I dreamed it."