ATAVID CH99

Because Jiang Qunyu’s inherent “lack of direction” was at play, the pair went around in circles, taking countless wrong turns.

In the end, Wen Xingyao’s patience was completely ground away, and he decided to just give up.

“Forget it, forget it. I’m not walking anymore.” He squatted by the side of the road, hugging his sword to his chest, looking hopeless. “Let’s just sit here and wait for Wei Xun to come find us. That’s better than wandering around blindly following you.”

Jiang Qunyu squatted down beside him, and the two sighed, looking up at the sky and then down at the ground.

Jiang Qunyu: “I think we shouldn’t give up so easily. How about we walk a little further?”

Wen Xingyao laughed in frustration: “If I let you lead the way again, when on earth will we ever reach the Nine Nethers?”

Jiang Qunyu laughed heartily.

Watching him, Wen Xingyao was left speechless, too lazy to argue further.

Fortunately, after traveling for several more days, they finally caught sight of other cultivators amidst the vast wind and snow.

In this boundary zone between the Nine Nethers and the Demon Realm, the wind and snow were raging and the spiritual energy of space was chaotic. Communication artifacts were completely useless, and the two were too lazy to waste their effort trying.

Seeing the two of them continuing to push forward into the snow, a demonic cultivator leaning against the lee of a rock kindly reminded them: “Two fellow Daoists, why not stop here to rest and wait? It wouldn’t be too late to set off once the wind and snow die down. There’s no need to force your way through.”

Wen Xingyao: “It’s just ordinary wind and snow. It’s fine.”

Jiang Qunyu, however, shivered from the biting cold wind, adding his persuasion: “The wind and snow are indeed too heavy, and the path ahead is unclear. Why not listen to this fellow Daoist and rest for a few days?”

Wen Xingyao gritted his teeth, wishing he could beat Jiang Qunyu: “If we delay for a few days, by the time Wei Xun finds us, I’ll truly be dead without a place to be buried!”

Jiang Qunyu muttered quietly: “Is Wei Xun really that terrifying?”

Wen Xingyao rolled his eyes and sneered: “Heh.”

Jiang Qunyu felt a chill from that laugh, so he had to bite the bullet and turn to the kindly demonic cultivator, asking: “Fellow Daoist, is there some kind of danger ahead?”

The demonic cultivator gave them a strange look: “Since you two came from this direction, I assumed you knew the dangers of this place.”

Jiang Qunyu felt embarrassed—he couldn’t very well admit they were lost—so he said half-truthfully: “We were accidentally teleported here by a secret realm.”

The cultivator begrudgingly accepted this absurd reason and kindly explained: “Further ahead lies the boundary of Tiandu City from the Demon Realm, destroyed over two thousand years ago.”

“But ever since Tiandu fell, that city has become a completely dead city where no grass grows. Moreover, outside Tiandu City, there is a domain known as the ‘Mirror of Heart-Questioning.’ This mirror is the most bizarre; it can question the heart and reflect shadows. Anyone who wants to enter Tiandu or pass through must tread across this territory.”

“But among all living beings, who doesn’t hide a few secrets they don’t want others to know? Once you step into the Mirror of Heart-Questioning, the memories you least want to expose will all be reflected out without the slightest concealment. In such a terrifying place, who would dare to travel together?”

The cultivator paused: “However, if you can ask yourself and find no guilt or lack, you can walk through that domain. Once you cross it, you are in the Demon Realm. Just don’t enter Tiandu. To the left is the Nine Nethers, and to the right is the Demon Realm.”

Jiang Qunyu listened carefully and asked: “And if we wait for the snow to pass, what will the situation be like then?”

“The Mirror of Heart-Questioning only opens and manifests during wind and snow. Once the weather clears, the mirror domain automatically shuts down. At that time, you can pass through safely without your past being reflected,” the cultivator replied honestly.

“Thank you, fellow Daoist, for your patient explanation.” Jiang Qunyu bowed in gratitude, then turned to look at Wen Xingyao beside him: “Should we wait for the wind and snow to pass before we move on?”

Wen Xingyao looked at him strangely, his tone playful: “Jiang Qunyu, you ask that—don’t tell me you’ve done something shameful?”

Jiang Qunyu said: “Back at Mirror Lake City, I spoke badly of you behind your back. Does that count?”

“…” Wen Xingyao was instantly enraged, glaring at him: “Jiang Qunyu! I knew you were secretly bad-mouthing me behind my back!”

“It’s nothing,” Jiang Qunyu said, his eyes curving into a smile to comfort him, “Actually, I did it to your face plenty of times, too.”

Wen Xingyao pouted: “It’s one thing for Wei Xun to call me stupid, but you call me that too!”

“Whenever he scolded you, I stood up for you every single time,” Jiang Qunyu said.

The two made their plans. To avoid wasting time, they decided to walk through the Mirror of Heart-Questioning. Fortunately, chatting occasionally along the way helped dilute the boredom and cold.

Jiang Qunyu picked a topic: “So, that means Shen Peiqiu has been busy dealing with vengeful spirits all these years?”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Wen Xingyao was shivering from the cold, cursing the ghost weather before answering: “In the past few years, more and more vengeful spirits have appeared in the world, and their origins are very suspicious. My Shizun is often spread too thin; most of the time it’s me and other cultivators going down the mountain to clean up the mess. After washing away the obsessions and malice of the spirits, we guide them to the River of Oblivion to enter reincarnation.”

Jiang Qunyu was very curious: “What exactly are these vengeful spirits?”

Wen Xingyao pulled his collar tight and explained slowly: “Logically, within seven days of a person’s death, they must shed the memories of their past life and let go of the obsessions in their heart—this step is called ‘Cleansing the Dust.’ Only when obsessions are scattered can they step into the Yellow Springs and reincarnate.”

“Vengeful spirits shouldn’t exist in this world.” He paused, his tone deepening: “They only spawn when there is chaos, catastrophe, or large-scale loss of life. For instance, endless war or plague where countless people die, causing resentment to pile up in heaven and earth.”

“Those souls that should have reincarnated on time are entangled and swept away by boundless malice. They can no longer distinguish between their own obsessions and the hatred of others. Once the seven-day cleansing period passes, their obsessions remain, and they are riddled with malice, turning into vengeful spirits. They can neither cross the River of Oblivion nor enter reincarnation; they can only drift and wander in the world.”

Jiang Qunyu froze, staying silent for a long while before saying: “I think I’ve heard this explanation somewhere before.”

Wen Xingyao smiled: “I imagine it was in some cultivation manual you flipped through in the past.”

“It was a record of legends,” Jiang Qunyu said noncommittally. He thought seriously, his tone calm: “I remember that record mentioned, besides cleansing souls, a forbidden art: if one collects a sufficiently large number of vengeful spirits, one can set up an array to borrow their power to forcibly bring the dead back to life.”

Wen Xingyao was shocked: “Vengeful spirits have such a use?”

“Yes,” Jiang Qunyu nodded. He suddenly remembered something and asked: “Could these spirits have been born from that Great War between righteousness and evil over a hundred years ago?”

A war that happened just as written in the original plot.

The only difference was Wei Xun.

In the original plot, Wei Xun died in that war, his swordsmanship stopped at the fifth level, and the situation ended early because of his fall; it wouldn’t have caused such tragic casualties.

But now, Wei Xun lived, and his swordsmanship reached perfection.

It was precisely because of this variable that the war between the righteous and evil paths escalated, far exceeding the original trajectory, with countless demonic and righteous cultivators buried there. Were those souls who died in vain carrying endless resentment, turning into the vengeful spirits now ravaging the world?

“So that’s it,” Wen Xingyao realized. “When I return to the Immortal Alliance, I will report this to my Shizun.”

Fortunately, the two did not take any more wrong turns. Not long after, an invisible barrier stretched out before them.

It was invisible, but when they reached out to touch it, one could clearly see the falling snow stall briefly in mid-air.

Jiang Qunyu lowered his eyes and placed his hand on the barrier.

In an instant, where his palm touched, a pale blue fluorescence appeared, spreading like spider silk in all directions and weaving into a web of light.

A line of vermillion seal script slowly surfaced on the light web. Jiang Qunyu looked up and recited the words softly: “Flowers in the mirror, moon in the water; seen with laughing eyes, they all seem real. Do not ask Heaven, do not ask Immortals; the heart-questioning shadow is before your eyes. If there is no debt, the body is steady; those with guilt cannot move their steps.”

After reciting it, he curved his brows and scoffed lightly: “Such cheesy lines.”

“Sigh,” he sighed, “does this mean that what we see with our eyes isn’t real, just flowers in the mirror and moon in the water? That only by crossing this Mirror of Heart-Questioning, questioning the heart and reflecting the shadow, can we know if a person’s words are true or false?”

Wen Xingyao stood to the side, saying nothing.

Jiang Qunyu turned to look at him: “Let’s go quickly, otherwise Wei Xun might really think we eloped, and I reckon I’ll be tortured quite miserably then.”

Wen Xingyao lowered his eyes, staying silent for a while before saying: “Let’s wait until the wind and snow stop.”

Jiang Qunyu rolled his eyes: “Wen Xingyao, what do you have to hide?”

After much hesitation and anxiety, Wen Xingyao finally reached a breaking point, blurting out loud: “I like my Shizun!”

Jiang Qunyu was shocked. Seeing Wen Xingyao’s awkward demeanor, he had thought he had done something, but he hadn’t expected this to be the reason.

He kept a wooden expression, looking at Wen Xingyao speechlessly.

Wen Xingyao’s face burned with shame; his eyes darted around, and he couldn’t help but redden, gritting his teeth: “I knew it! Even though you see me as a friend, if you knew I liked Shizun, that I had such ‘offending-the-superior’ thoughts, you would surely think I am unprincipled and rebellious!”

When Jiang Qunyu saw he was about to burst into tears again, he had to say dryly: “I don’t mean that.”

Wen Xingyao felt very aggrieved: “You do mean that!”

Jiang Qunyu felt Wen Xingyao was truly stupid: “If you don’t tell me yourself, even if we walk into the Mirror of Heart-Questioning together, I wouldn’t guess your thoughts toward Shen Peiqiu at all. This mirror only reflects the past that the observer is intentionally seeking; it won’t expose all your secret thoughts for no reason.”

This mirror only reflected memories the other party wanted to know, not everything one was hiding.

Wen Xingyao froze, taking a long time to react, murmuring softly: “That seems to make sense.”

Jiang Qunyu: “…”

“Jiang Qunyu, you are so smart.”

Jiang Qunyu was speechless. It wasn’t that he was smart; it was that Wen Xingyao was too dumb.

But Wen Xingyao was already unhappy: “Wooooo—but you know now! If we go in, those sneaky, shameful thoughts of mine will still be seen by you.”

Jiang Qunyu: “You really need to grow a heart.”

He had to compromise: “Fine, don’t cry. At worst, we can just wait a few days.”

Wen Xingyao nodded repeatedly: “Oh!”

Saying this, he turned to leave.

But the moment he turned, Jiang Qunyu suddenly reached out and gripped his wrist tightly.

With his long, dense eyelashes drooping, looking at the white snow flying on the ground, he leaned backward without a moment’s hesitation, dragging the unsuspecting Wen Xingyao down into the Mirror of Heart-Questioning together.

The moment they fell into the domain of the mirror, boundless darkness surged over, swallowing all wind, snow, and light.

In the darkness, Jiang Qunyu’s face was expressionless.

The wind blew from below, lifting his messy hair.

In the quiet dead silence, he faintly heard a sigh from Wen Xingyao beside him—a sigh that was extremely light and filled with helplessness.