Plot or romance? That was the question.
“…………”
With a flick of his hand, Jiang Xuesheng hurled Wu Yao more than thirty meters away. He did not so much as raise his head, merely lowered his gaze in quiet, single-minded focus upon Shu Fu. His eyes were dark and profound, and his thoughts ran as deep as a lake beneath the night.
On the day Shu Fu first arrived at Yaoguang Peak, he had told her, “If you ever come to feel something for me, you may come find me at any time. I will certainly give you an answer.”
At the time, he had thought that if the day ever came when she truly did seek him out, he would probably accept her.
There was no particular reason for it. He simply genuinely liked Shu Fu—whether it was affection, indulgence, or favoritism, whatever one chose to call it. In short, as a great figure who had witnessed all the myriad faces of humanity, lived through the rise and fall of generations, and styled himself “the world’s greatest flirt who has seen through worldly attachments,” he was simply fond of this tiny little girl, so small a puff of breath could blow her away. She was clearly absurdly weak, yet excessively fierce; her bones and temperament were as unusual as his own.
Now, three years had flown by.
That spirited, openhearted little girl from back then—brimming with gallantry and righteous courage—had made him feel, at first sight, as though they had met across countless lifetimes. He had plucked her out from the vast sea of people and brought her home.
Yet she had never come looking for him.
Jiang Xuesheng thought: If she had not come, then she must never have entertained such feelings.
But what about him?
What did he think?
Jiang Xuesheng had been clever all his life, and self-obsessed all his life. Now he once again experienced the loneliness of an undefeated master: the only person even I cannot see through is myself.
...No, that was not quite right. There was also Shu Fu.
For instance, during the entrance trial years ago, Jiang Xuesheng had claimed he was “not worried,” yet he had still felt uneasy. He secretly peeled back a corner of the illusion to check on her, only to witness Shu Fu marrying an NPC who bore his exact appearance—and even having the NPC’s child.
—Then immediately getting divorced.
Jiang Xuesheng: That was really not something I saw coming.
And this time, Shu Fu had insisted that something was wrong with the Flower Children Temple and stubbornly insisted on keeping watch for a night. Even he could not fathom the reason why.
After all, in his eyes, the legend that “Flower Children descend from heaven and enter the earth, yielding ten thousand jin per mu” was certainly bizarre. But a thousand years ago, when the Dragon God vanished and turmoil swept through the hearts of the people, terrified commoners had grasped at whatever they could. No matter how outlandish a tale they invented, no matter how absurd a deity they turned to, it was hardly surprising.
In the end, it was all because the Dragon God had disappeared.
If the dragon clan could reemerge—or if, among the flood dragons, one such as Wu Yao or Lingbo of the Xuanyu Palace could cultivate into a true dragon and descend once more upon the Five Provinces, sweeping away the world’s miasma and stabilizing its rivers and mountains...
“...Enough. The hope is slim, in the end. I need only do what must be done, so that when the world teeters on the brink and calamity rises again, I may at least not fail those old friends.”
As for those vague, unnameable feelings, he would set them aside for now.
The world was not yet settled, nor were the rivers and seas at peace. Besides, while the prince might dream, the goddess had no heart for him. Letting her know would only add to her troubles.
Just then—
From behind Jiang Xuesheng, where the statue of the Flower Child stood, a sudden wave of cold swept over him.
“...Hm?”
Jiang Xuesheng keenly sensed that some elusive presence within the main hall had changed.
It felt as though the entire resplendent temple had, in an instant, sunk beneath a freezing, bone-piercing sea, surrounded on every side by darkness and cold.
“Fu guessed right after all. This time, I truly misjudged her.”
Jiang Xuesheng chuckled softly. There was no trace of chagrin in his voice; instead, it carried an unconcealed note of admiration—and pride. “It seems that there are things I ought to learn from her already, rather than waiting another two years.”
With his hands clasped behind his back, he rose slowly to his feet and paced unhurriedly around half the statue before stopping firmly in front of it. He lifted his head and looked straight at the solemn, majestic golden figure upon its pedestal.
—No.
—More precisely, it had once been solemn and majestic.
For at this very moment, two streams of crimson tears were slowly falling from the bright black eyes set in the handsome, beautiful face of the “Flower Children.” They ran down the surface of the statue, leaving behind two shocking streaks of blood.
A sorrowful, mournful sobbing sounded directly within his spiritual consciousness, faint yet unceasing.
“Save...”
“Please... save... him...”
“Save him... Yao...”
...
“...”
At the same time, Shu Fu, immersed in sleep, suddenly furrowed her brow. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, as though she were suffering terrible torment and shock within her dream.
From the very beginning, her decision to keep watch had not been without purpose.
After all, not every ghost in this world was like Tian Xin—blessed with the right time, place, and circumstances, able to take human form once more and speak to the living of its grievances.
Most people, after death, either descended directly to the underworld as wandering souls, or left behind only the faintest lingering echo: a thread of unwillingness to fade away, a longing with nowhere to rest, drifting helplessly through the world.
Ling Fengqing had repeatedly gone alone to worship at the Flower Children Temple. There had to be a reason for it.
Shu Fu had boldly surmised that even if the Flower Children Temple was not the murderer’s hiding place, it must still be connected in some way to the culprit who had abducted the children.
If that was the case, then perhaps, if she slept here and deliberately let down every guard—opening her spiritual consciousness completely, without any defenses—
—might the lingering “thoughts” left behind by the dead be able to slip into her dreams?
It was no different from inviting a spirit to possess her. Though simple and effective, it was far from without danger.
Being the sort of person who acted the moment she made up her mind, Shu Fu trusted her companions and decisively used herself as a test subject, lying down in the Flower Children Temple in the dead of night to have a dream.
Things went even more smoothly than she had imagined.
After Shu Fu fell asleep, she saw nothing at first but darkness all around her—boundless, senseless, and unknowable. She had no idea how much time passed there.
Just as boredom began to set in, a sudden flash of light appeared before her eyes. Like a firefly gliding across her vision, a tiny glimmer lit up in one corner of the endless darkness.
At the time, Shu Fu’s consciousness was hazy, and she did not realize she was dreaming. Driven only by the curiosity engraved deep within her soul, she began to walk toward the light. After stumbling and groping through the darkness for some time, she finally found the faint source of illumination.
It was a young boy.
He looked about fourteen or fifteen years old, refined and delicate in appearance, with fair skin and the air of a finely dressed young nobleman. He was adorned in gold and jade, extravagantly attired, with a fully bloomed deep-purple flower pinned to his chest and a vivid red cinnabar mark between his brows, bright as blood.
Shu Fu could tell from the boy’s extravagantly noble attire that he bore a striking resemblance to the “Flower Children” statue enshrined in the main hall—as though the statue had been fashioned in his likeness.
…Could the legend of “eighteen thousand jin per mu” actually be true?
Could there truly be a divine child in this world, appearing before them and, without holding past grievances against anyone, repaying evil with kindness by becoming sweet rain to nourish the earth?
Shu Fu eyed the boy suspiciously from head to toe. His features seemed vaguely familiar, carrying an inexplicable sense of closeness, yet she could not recall where she had seen him before.
“Um… hello?”
She was more than a head taller than him. Bending down cautiously, she tried to speak to him. “Excuse me, are you Lord Flower Child?”
“...”
The boy’s eyes remained tightly shut. He stood motionless like a statue carved from jade and stone, naturally offering no reply.
Shu Fu was about to ask again when his whole body suddenly convulsed. An expression of unbearable agony appeared on his delicate face, and he unconsciously bit down hard on his lip.
From beneath his trembling eyelids, from his tightly closed eyes, two streams of crimson tears slowly trickled down.
“Save… Yao City…”
“Please…”
“…Still alive… save him…”
The boy clenched his teeth. His pale face, streaked with blood, resembled red plum blossoms against snow, giving off an eerily beautiful, almost grotesque sense of horror.
“Hey! Are you all right—”
Shu Fu hurriedly reached out to shake him, but the instant her fingertips touched his shoulder, she felt a powerful force of suction. Before she could resist, she was pulled straight toward him!
“Wh—wait?!”
Shu Fu toppled stiffly toward the boy. Afraid that she would crash into him, she instinctively raised her hands to shield her face.
But, to her surprise, she did not collide with him at all. Instead, as if passing through a translucent projection, she fell straight through his body without the slightest obstruction.
More precisely, it seemed that she had… been sucked into the boy’s body?
Once again, Shu Fu plunged into a darkness so complete that she could not see her hand before her face. This time, however, she was not free to move as she had been before.
The space around her felt incredibly cramped. Her body was paralyzed, as though pinned down by a nightmare; she could not call out, could not even turn over without immense difficulty.
In contrast, she could hear sounds.
Footsteps. Voices. Happy, joyous laughter.
And… all kinds of prayers and wishes offered to the gods—some devout, some frivolous, some greedy, some simple and sincere.
At that moment, Shu Fu was alone in a narrow, enclosed space, yet she was surrounded by the uproarious merriment of the world outside.
Chaotic footsteps, loud laughter, bustling voices—even without being able to see, she could imagine what a lively and prosperous scene it must be.
Only a thin barrier separated them, yet it was as vast as a chasm between heaven and earth.
If the world outside was an ocean of joy, then Shu Fu was like someone sealed inside an airtight capsule, sunk deep into the silent, deserted seabed.
Worse still, that capsule… seemed to have no oxygen supply.
In only a few moments, she was overcome by a powerful, very real dizziness. Then came tightness in her chest, shortness of breath, and increasing difficulty breathing—unmistakable signs of suffocation.
(…What? What’s happening?)
(Suffocating… suffocating…)
(That’s right! Those abducted children all ultimately died of suffocation!)
Shu Fu shuddered violently. It was as though a bucket of snow had been poured over her head; her previously hazy mind cleared at once.
That was it.
—What she was experiencing now was precisely what those children had seen in their final moments!!!
But the children’s bodies had all been found outside the city. When they were buried alive, how could there have been such a noisy, bustling crowd around them?
Unless... unless...
—The place where they had been murdered was not outside the city at all.
Not outside the city, but...
With every passing second, the oxygen grew thinner. Shu Fu knew she had little time left. She could only force her weakened senses to their utmost, desperately trying to draw even the slightest scrap of information from her surroundings.
Then, amid the clamor of voices, she heard a particularly crisp and bright young girl’s voice.
“Father, Lord Flower Child is so pretty!”
Immediately afterward came two dull thumps from directly above Shu Fu’s head, as if someone were patting the sealed compartment.
A deep male voice scolded, “Second girl, get down here! Do not be disrespectful to Lord Flower Child!”
“All right, I’m coming.”
The girl giggled, her voice like tinkling bells as it gradually receded. “Father, Lord Flower Child is so strange. His body seems to be hollow. When I pat it like this, there’s actually an echo inside!”
(...Hollow?)
(If “Flower Child is hollow,” then that means...)
“...!!”
At that instant, Shu Fu felt a wrenching pain in her chest, and her consciousness in the dream abruptly cut off.
—Inviting a spirit to possess her had reached its limit.
At the same time, Shu Fu in the real world snapped her eyes open and sprang up from the blanket in a swift, fish-like leap.
“Sir! I understand now!”
—I know where the missing children went, how they suffocated to death, and why there was no trace of them in Lord Flower Child’s temple.
—Because in the entire temple, there was only one place the cultivators of Wei City, who worshipped Lord Flower Child, would never think to inspect carefully.
Without waiting for Jiang Xuesheng to respond, Shu Fu leapt onto the altar. The Lone Light Sword flashed from its sheath, and without the slightest hesitation, she brought it down upon the statue of Lord Flower Child.
A protective barrier surrounded the idol, but it could not withstand the peerless sharpness of her strike. It shattered into fragments in an instant, and the entire statue was cleaved cleanly in two by the razor-sharp sword qi. Like the Bone Pagoda, it collapsed with a thunderous crash, sending dust billowing across the floor.
“What... what is going on?!”
The Wei family disciples standing guard outside rushed in at the commotion. Their faces changed drastically, and without another word, they drew their swords and attacked Shu Fu together. “Insolence! How dare you desecrate Lord Flower Child’s sacred form?!”
Shu Fu felt a fierce gust of force rush toward her and hurriedly raised her sword to defend herself. “Everyone, please listen to my explanation...”
“Junior Sister!”
Si Fei had only just awakened as well. Before he could make sense of what had happened, he raised his hand and summoned several arrows of water, protecting Shu Fu without hesitation. “Stand down! You are not to harm her!”
“—Enough. All of you, stop.”
Before either side’s weapons could meet, Jiang Xuesheng rose to his feet. With one arm, he drew Shu Fu close by the shoulder; with the other, he made an apparently casual sweep behind him. His black robes snapped in the wind, and in an instant, all the sword qi and spells unleashed by the crowd vanished without a trace.
Maintaining his protective stance before Shu Fu, he turned lightly halfway around. With a lift of his hand and a sweep of his sleeve, the smoke and dust filling the hall vanished in an instant, revealing the scene within in full.
Outside the windows, the moon shone bright and clear, illuminating the miserable sight of the statue, broken cleanly in two at the waist.
“Th-this...”
“What happened here?!”
“The Flower Children... How could they be like this...?”
The moment the cultivators of Wei City took in the scene before them, they all drew sharp breaths, no longer sparing any thought for questioning Shu Fu.
For within the hollow interior of that severed statue, on the stone surface that should have been completely bare—
there were dense, overlapping, blood-red handprints, shocking to behold.
“Th-this is...”
“...A child’s hand?”
The prints were tiny, less than a third the size of an adult’s hand. They had clearly been left by a young child.
It was as though a child had once been trapped inside, struggling desperately in utter despair...
“Do not panic. These are not the handprints of an actual child.”
Jiang Xuesheng explained calmly. “This is a ‘manifestation,’ an exceedingly rare phenomenon. There is a spirit entity here that wishes to convey a message to us. Having exhausted all its strength, it has revealed within this statue the scene it witnessed.”
“‘Before the missing children died, they were hidden inside the Flower Children statues.’ That is the information it wishes to tell us.”
“Not in Wei City, but in Yao City—in the Flower Children temple where Ling Fengqing went to offer worship. The statues in the two places resonate with one another, which is why this phenomenon occurred.”
“Go to Yao City at once. We may still be in time to save the last one.”
