AUOF - 100

In just an instant, Ji Hengyu deciphered the playful undertone in her smile. ‘If you’re trying to test my sincerity, True Lord of Wushan, there’s no need for such elaborate effort.’

The True Lord of Wushan countered: ‘And if it’s not just a test?’

Ji Hengyu lowered his gaze, exuding humility: ‘Whether it is or isn’t, my answer remains the same—I am willing.’

The surroundings fell into sudden silence.

The True Lord of Wushan’s piercing gaze seemed intent on finding a crack in his otherwise calm demeanor, but he remained composed, never once flinching or evading.

After a moment, the True Lord’s gaze returned to Sang Li.

The little fox wrapped in the pool’s water was curled up tightly. In the brief passage of time, only eight tails remained; her soul fire was unstable, flickering as though it might extinguish at any moment.

Yet, an unknown presence continued to envelop her spirit platform, preventing her soul from scattering entirely.

‘Within her body…’

Realizing what the True Lord of Wushan intended to ask, Ji Hengyu answered truthfully: ‘The Fan Sha Flower.’

The True Lord of Wushan suddenly understood. No wonder.

If she were an ordinary spirit fox, even with nine tails, she wouldn’t have survived this long.

‘There’s no need for you to offer your soul. Simply extract two strands of your soul and fuse them with her life fire as you did before. Afterward, I will take her back to Yunsheng Sea. With the Fan Sha Flower as a medium, the Shadow Lantern will protect her spiritual body, and using your three strands of soul, we will allow her to regenerate her destined soul fire.’

Yunsheng Sea was a realm of utmost emptiness, a place even true gods couldn’t enter recklessly.

Ji Hengyu had heard rumors of a life-binding divine lantern there. Regardless of whether one was human or immortal, as long as their soul threads remained intact, the lantern could reignite their life fire.

Ji Hengyu’s eyes flickered, silently glancing toward Sang Li.

After a prolonged silence, he asked: ‘How long will it take?’

The True Lord of Wushan didn’t hesitate: ‘Seven years.’

Seven years.

For a god, seven years was merely the blink of an eye, the passing of seasons. But for Ji Hengyu, burdened with karma and surrounded by peril, seven years felt unbearably long.

He sighed inwardly, hesitating not a moment before extracting two strands of his soul and sending them into her body.

The golden soul threads intertwined with the clear, translucent waters of the spirit pool, wrapping around her completely. Then they transformed into golden light, vanishing into her forehead without a trace.

The True Lord of Wushan flicked her whisk, and a shimmering orb of pool water lifted Sang Li, delivering her into the True Lord’s arms.

The small, pure white fox lay cradled in her embrace, a crimson mark glowing faintly on her brow. Her eyes were closed, her breathing calm and serene, making her look like a meticulously nurtured guardian spirit fox beneath a lotus pedestal—no longer unconscious but rather sleeping peacefully.

Ji Hengyu’s gaze lingered on her, filled with deep meaning and reluctance.

As the True Lord held Sang Li for a fleeting moment, she sensed the connection between them. Clapping her hands, a red glow emerged from her chest.

‘The Silkworm Curse?’

‘Yes.’

The True Lord of Wushan was somewhat surprised. When she probed Ji Hengyu again, she detected no trace of the secondary curse.

This was peculiar. However, considering Ji Hengyu’s origins and abilities, concealing the curse’s presence wasn’t impossible. This curse differed from the love curses of the Nine Realms—it was easy to form but difficult to break, and severing it came at a cost.

‘I’ll find a way to resolve the curse after this child’s soul stabilizes.’

‘Thank you.’

Knowing that the True Lord of Wushan genuinely intended to help, Ji Hengyu bowed respectfully.

She gave a slight nod, exchanged a few words with Qu You, and then departed with Sang Li to Yunsheng Sea.

Ji Hengyu quietly followed for a stretch of the journey. Knowing he couldn’t hide from the True Lord of Wushan, he made no effort to conceal his presence. When they reached Yunsheng Sea, he reluctantly stopped, watching the divine figure vanish into the distance.

This was another god’s domain—a place where outsiders like him couldn’t tread.

Ji Hengyu stood outside for a very long time, until the sun set and the moon rose, before letting out a deep sigh. It was impossible to describe the emotions swirling within him. His entire body felt numb, yet his heart was weighed down heavily. Even Ji Hengyu, in this moment, felt overwhelmed with sorrow.

Ji Wu: [You’re really letting the little fox go with her?]

[Yes.]

[Seven years?]

[Yes.]

Those two affirmations carried a multitude of emotions.

Ji Hengyu turned away, heading in the opposite direction of Yunsheng Sea.

By now, Ji Xun had awakened in his secluded consciousness.

He had overheard all the conversations, terrified that his master would discover his presence. Carefully concealing his aura, his thoughts wavered slightly.

**

Upon returning to Gui Xu, Ji Hengyu devoted himself entirely to his duties.

He confined Shen Zheyou to the Moon Forest dungeon, entrusting Big Eyes with guarding him to restrain his actions. He also used Shen Zheyou to obtain secret messages from the Divine Realm. For half a year, his actions were flawless.

Messages from the Divine Realm were sparse, mostly brief reminders for him to proceed cautiously. Ji Hengyu found this unsurprising, as the elders of the Divine Realm were notoriously cautious. With Shen Zheyou remaining in Gui Xu day and night, even if there were plots, they wouldn’t be communicated through letters.

However, one thing made Ji Hengyu suspicious.

Previously, the Divine Realm had kept a close watch on Gui Xu, but recently, they had grown unusually quiet. He didn’t believe killing a few disciples of the Heavenly Gate had instilled fear in the Divine Realm. Unless… they were secretly plotting something bigger behind the scenes…

After some thought, Ji Hengyu mimicked Shen Zheyou’s tone and handwriting to forge a letter. To ensure it went undetected, he infused a strand of Shen Zheyou’s hair into the letter as its aura. Then, summoning Ji Xun, he handed over the letter: [Hold onto it. Deliver it at the hour of Mao.]

Ji Xun sneered at these trivial matters, taking the envelope with dissatisfaction: […Again, it’s me.]

Ji Hengyu said nothing, rising to prepare for a trip to Yun Chuan Sea.

Ji Xun quickly followed, unable to resist adding: [Ji Xun spends all day loitering in Phoenix Pavilion, practically becoming the nanny of those Spirit Clan members. Are you really not going to do anything about it, Master?]

Ever since Sang Li’s incident, Ji Xun had secretly slipped into the mortal realm, bringing stolen spirit stones, jade treasures, or rare trinkets to Phoenix Pavilion. He believed he had done so flawlessly, but Ji Hengyu had seen everything. Ji Wu had expected Ji Hengyu to intervene, but instead, the two seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement, tacitly approving Ji Xun’s behavior.

Still, Ji Wu felt it was too risky.

Leaving aside the precarious situation of the Spirit Clan, Ji Xun wandering around under Ji Hengyu’s guise committing misdeeds was bound to raise suspicions from the Divine Realm sooner or later.

But Ji Hengyu remained indifferent: [Let him be.]

Even if Ji Xun hadn’t acted this way, Ji Hengyu would have diverted his attention to care for the Spirit Clan. Since Ji Xun was willing to share the burden, why not let him?

**

The days and months passed, and the seven-year agreement blinked by. In the blink of an eye, the appointed day arrived.

Yunsheng Sea.

This was a realm of ultimate emptiness and stillness, where time left no traces. The vast expanse of clouds stretched endlessly across the heavens and earth.

At the center of Yun Chuan lay the Shadow Lantern.

The soul lantern grew at the heart of heaven and earth, its massive form resembling a lotus flower. On its four sides burned ten dazzling lamp flames, their wicks gathered together, revealing a faintly glowing silhouette within.

The True Lord of Wushan used her magic to sustain the flames.

At first, only one weak flame flickered. Before the seven years had passed, all ten blossomed fully.

These ten flames represented the formation of her three souls and seven spirits. The brighter the flames burned, the stronger her life fire became.

Yet, Sang Li showed no signs of waking.

It was as if she had forgotten everything about the Nine Realms, falling into a dreamlike trance. She became an ordinary high school student living in the 21st century once more.

In her dreams, she smoothly completed high school, entered her dream university, and worked tirelessly in her desired field.

But somehow, none of this felt like what she truly wanted. Whenever she was alone, a faint voice would call to her softly, urging her to wake up. Yet, every time she tried, another voice in reality would tell her this was what she desired.

Gradually, Sang Li began to experience hallucinations on her way home.

In the misty rain, beneath stone bridges, a young girl dressed in flowing green robes appeared, her blurry figure resembling spilled ink.

The scene shifted, and she returned to a quiet, desolate palace, holding hands with a man.

‘Child, it’s time to wake up.’

Who was calling her?

Before her eyes was a lingering, indistinct shadow.

She felt like an infant wrapped in a placental membrane—as if breaking free from this confinement would grant her rebirth.

‘Sang Li, wake up.’

Following the sound, Sang Li walked through thorny brambles, hearing the voice grow closer. She saw a faint point of light drifting from afar, and overjoyed, she stumbled toward it eagerly.

The point of light expanded into a glowing orb, and she ran toward it, diving headfirst inside.

With a sudden jolt—

It was as if she had fallen from the clouds. The sensation of falling pulled her mind and body awake.

Sang Li’s eyes snapped open, and she saw herself lying in the giant wick, unclothed, surrounded by the four-sided flames that enveloped her like a placental membrane.

She lay there, unresponsive.

‘She’s awake! Master, Sang Li has awakened!’

The voice was both familiar and unfamiliar, leaving the long-sleeping Sang Li feeling somewhat dazed.

Finally, she sat up in confusion, seeing two figures floating toward her. One was about six or seven years old, wearing a bamboo-green dress, delicate and lively; the other wore a Taoist robe, holding a whisk, with a compassionate gaze.

Sang Li froze momentarily, memories slowly surfacing in her mind.

She was still caught in the long dream, staring blankly at the smiling girl, uncertainly calling her name: ‘Qu You?’

‘It’s me, it’s me!’ Qu You excitedly attempted to rush into the wick but was held back by the True Lord of Wushan with her whisk.

Qu You chuckled sheepishly, scratching the back of her head adorably: ‘Sang Li was trapped in a nightmare and couldn’t wake up. Master forbade me from forcefully waking you. Now that you’ve awakened and retained all your memories, I can’t help but feel excited.’

Sang Li was still somewhat confused: ‘Retained all my memories?’

Qu You nodded, and with her master’s permission, conjured a simple white gown for Sang Li. She then led her out of the wick.

When they returned to the ground, Sang Li realized how enormous the lampstand behind her was.

It resembled a divine shrine standing between heaven and earth, its ten directions of lamp flowers blooming serenely. As she departed, the lamp shadows dimmed, slowly converging and shrinking into a small golden-brown lamp that floated into the palm of the True Lord of Wushan.

Sang Li marveled silently at the sight.

Qu You knew she had many questions, so she kindly took her hand and explained: ‘Seven years ago, your soul fragmented, and Ji Hengyu brought you to Phoenix Pavilion to seek my master’s help in saving your life.’

Seven years?!

Sang Li’s brow twitched sharply, astonished as she looked around.

This place was vastly different from anywhere she had ever seen.

It felt like an empty void, with nothing but endless clouds stretching as far as the eye could see.

‘The Shadow Lantern helped you reforge your soul fire. However, your soul was severely damaged. Master said that if you couldn’t break free from the nightmare, even if you woke up, you might forget everything like a newborn child.’ Here, Qu You took a deep breath, her smile turning light-hearted. ‘Fortunately, you didn’t.’

Sang Li had no recollection of what Qu You described.

She only remembered being in immense pain, unbearable pain, and then nothing else. Judging by this… it was the True Lord of Wushan who had saved her life.

Sang Li immediately straightened her expression, solemnly kneeling before the True Lord of Wushan and bowing deeply: ‘Thank you, True Lord, for saving my life. This kindness is beyond repayment. Please accept my gratitude.’ She kowtowed three times earnestly and respectfully, finally rising with the True Lord’s assistance.

‘No need for formalities. If not for the Heavenly Balance Lord, even I wouldn’t have been able to save you.’

Ji Hengyu?

She looked at him in confusion.

Qu You giggled secretly behind her, and the True Lord of Wushan affectionately tapped her head with her whisk before explaining: ‘The Fan Sha Flower sustained your life fire, and his three strands of soul allowed your soul and flesh to regenerate. Both were indispensable. If you must thank anyone, it’s not me.’

The True Lord glanced behind her and smiled: ‘They’re here.’ Flicking her whisk, the layers of Yunsheng Sea shifted, the clouds dispersed, and a winding path emerged, leading to its end.

Instinctively, Sang Li’s gaze followed it.