AUOF - 27

Next was the time for everyone to choose their secret realm. After making their selections, participants would stand in separate groups, and a designated official would tally the numbers.

On the surface, there was no visible difference between the realms.

Wu Wo (Selflessness), Wu Ying (Shadows), Wu Huan (Illusions), and Wu Sha (No Killing)—even their names gave no insight into their true nature.

The only certainty was this: if these realms were indeed personally designed by Ji Hengyu, then given his personality, none of them would be simple. Thus, Sang Li immediately ruled out Wu Wo Zhi Jing and Wu Sha Zhi Jing .

The names themselves sounded ominous—despite the presence of protectors, one might still end up dead.

After careful consideration, Sang Li chose Wu Huan Zhi Jing (Realm of Illusions).

The crowd split into four groups, each with roughly equal numbers.

When the Examination Division saw that everything was settled, they announced: “The following four Immortal Lords will accompany you into the secret realms to supervise this assessment and ensure the disciples’ safety.”

The recording crystal projected several names—

Li Ningxi, Yuezhu Qing, Qi, and… Shen Zheyou.

Aside from Qi, the other three were well-known figures.

Sang Li sharply sucked in a breath at the sight of Shen Zheyou’s name. What was going on? Why was Shen Zheyou, a disciple of the Celestial Pavilion, assigned to oversee Gui Xu’s assessment? Could it be a butterfly effect caused by his survival last time?

Sang Li had a poor impression of him.

In the original story, after being killed by Yan Jinglou in Xishui Town, he reincarnated as a tragic young swordsman. At the age of seventeen, he entered Gui Xu and became Yuezhu Qing’s sole direct disciple.

Yuezhu Qing, seeing him as an orphan and recognizing his exceptional talent, protected and saved him repeatedly. Over time, their relationship developed into a passionate master-disciple romance.

However, this was merely a trial of emotions for Shen Zheyou. He soon regained his past memories and his identity as the Celestial Pavilion’s Guardian of Heaven. Due to differing allegiances, he ruthlessly killed Yuezhu Qing to prove his loyalty to the path, completing the final trial on his journey to godhood.

Sang Li’s evaluation of him could be summed up in two words—scumbag!

The three immortals appeared on stage.

The last figure to step forward wore fitted blue-green attire, his long hair tied high, exuding an imposing aura. Despite his handsome face, what caught people’s attention first wasn’t his unparalleled beauty but the noble air that emanated from him.

Yes, noble.

Like a piece of dark ice suspended atop a lofty peak, unmelted and unchanging for ten thousand years.

Such was Shen Zheyou.

Standing beside Yuezhu Qing, they truly resembled a pair of icy frost flowers.

Sang Li began to feel her heart ache.

Damn it, don’t tell me the plot is forcing a tragic twist again?!

Since Shen Zheyou hadn’t died last time, was the plot now forcing him and Yuezhu Qing together?

Before Sang Li could dwell further on the matter between Yuezhu Qing and Shen Zheyou, the assessment had already begun.

Sang Li steeled her resolve—this time, she absolutely had to pass the test!

She wanted to join the Demon Subjugation Guard, work alongside Yuezhu Qing, and shatter this cursed love affair!

One by one, the participants jumped into their respective secret realms. To prevent cheating, the four celestial mirrors above monitored the situation inside the realms.

Thinking about saving Yuezhu Qing from danger, Sang Li mustered her courage and leapt into the Realm of Illusions without hesitation.

“Are there even maids from Huansha Garden in this year’s selection?”

One of the elders glanced at Sang Li’s disappearing figure at the entrance of the secret realm, then looked down at the scroll in his hand, his expression showing surprise.

Yuezhu Qing calmly explained: “There are no rules prohibiting maids from participating in the selection. If she can pass, it’ll be proof of her ability.”

The elder awkwardly held the scroll and said nothing.

After speaking, Yuezhu Qing turned to Shen Zheyou: “Which realm will you oversee, Senior?”

The four of them could choose which secret realm to monitor. Though Yuezhu Qing harbored prejudice against Shen Zheyou because of what Sang Li had told her, she still asked politely out of courtesy.

Shen Zheyou stood with his arms crossed, coldly glancing at the bamboo token in her hand without blinking. “Realm of Illusions,” he replied curtly.

He was worried that Yuezhu Qing might give Sang Li preferential treatment.

Yuezhu Qing smiled indifferently and turned to ask Li Ningxi: “What about you, A Ning?” Her tone softened significantly compared to when she spoke to Shen Zheyou.

Li Ningxi, born with a carefree and oblivious personality, failed to notice the tension between the two. Scratching his head and looking around, he noticed Qi’s absence. “Where did Senior Brother go?”

Yuezhu Qing: “He entered the Realm of No Killing from the start.”

The Realm of No Killing was the most perilous of the four realms, classified as level A in terms of danger. It required someone to clear out threats beforehand to ensure the disciples’ survival and prevent them from being instantly annihilated upon entry.

Hearing this, Li Ningxi felt a bit disappointed. “Tsk, I wanted to check out the Realm of No Killing.”

Yuezhu Qing teasingly tugged at the strands of hair hanging by his chest, smiling affectionately. “There’ll be plenty of opportunities. Hurry up and choose, or we’ll miss the timing.”

“In that case, I’ll take the Realm of Shadows. I’ll head out first, Senior Sister. See you later.”

Li Ningxi mounted his sword and shot off, disappearing into the secret realm with a whoosh.

Yuezhu Qing went to the final realm—the Realm of Selflessness.

**

The trial officially began.

Sang Li stared blankly at her surroundings. She found herself in a vast void, completely alone.

What was going on??

Where were the other disciples?

Just as she was about to look around, an eerily hollow voice echoed from nowhere—

“No desire, no thought; no thought, no imagination. Abandon your thoughts, discard your fruits, and thus there will be no worry, no fear.”

Sang Li searched everywhere but couldn’t locate the source of the voice.

Feeling lost, she took two hesitant steps forward. Suddenly, a blinding white light flooded over her, swallowing her figure whole and plunging her into unconsciousness.

Sang Li sank into darkness.

The phone on her bedside table vibrated incessantly. Her eyelashes fluttered, and with great effort, she forced her eyes open.

What greeted her was the familiar sight of her childhood bedroom—the home she had grown up in.

Sang Li was an orphan. After her parents passed away, no one wanted to take her in except for her young aunt, who took on the responsibility of raising her from the age of two. After her aunt passed away, this house was the only memento she left behind. Even when the family of her ex-boyfriend came to cause trouble every now and then, Sang Li never considered selling it.

How was she back in this house?

She lay there, motionless, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Youyou, Xiaoshan is waiting for you downstairs. She says you didn’t answer her calls.” A puzzled voice called out from outside the door. “Why are you still lying in bed? Hurry up, or you’ll be late for school!”

Suddenly, the door opened.

Sang Li stared dumbfounded at the elegant, beautiful woman in her early thirties standing before her. The woman was talking while putting on a pair of pearl earrings.

“Aunt?” Sang Li called out hesitantly, her tone tinged with disbelief.

The aunt glanced hurriedly at the time, her expression growing more urgent: “Have breakfast outside. I’m going to be late for work. See you tonight, Youyou. Bye!”

With that, the woman left in a hurry.

Sang Li opened her mouth but didn’t have time to ask—

“Didn’t you die?”

What was going on? She clearly remembered...

Sang Li sat frozen on the bed, feeling an overwhelming sense of unease.

She turned her head to look at the wall, which was covered with certificates of merit and awards from math competitions—all bearing the same name: Sang Li.

Her gaze then shifted to the desk.

It was her final year of high school, the busiest period of preparation. The desk, not particularly narrow, was piled high with textbooks, review materials, and test papers, looking as if it might collapse under the weight at any moment.

Sang Li stood up, unable to resist reaching out to touch the desk. She leaned closer and sniffed.

—Wood, mixed with the faint scent of ink.

But something still felt off.

She turned her head and caught sight of her reflection in the full-length mirror.

A girl around sixteen or seventeen years old stood there, wearing a little bear-patterned pajama set. Her hair reached her shoulders, and her face was bright and pretty, with the youthful innocence and clarity unique to girls her age.

Sang Li tilted her head, and her reflection did the same. She pinched her cheek hard—it hurt. Not a dream.

Something wasn’t right.

There was a problem.

Sang Li tugged at her hair, racking her brain to recall everything that had happened today but couldn’t pinpoint anything unusual. Just then, a loud knock on the door jolted her out of her thoughts.

“Three-You-Mu!! Hurry up! You’re going to be late! What are you doing?!!”

It was Pei Xiaoshan.

Her best friend since childhood.

Sang Li glanced at the clock—6:30 AM. They really were running late.

Fortunately, it was Saturday, and their school started later for senior year students. In the past, they would’ve definitely been too late.

Pushing aside her tangled thoughts, Sang Li quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth, tied her hair into a loose ponytail, and grabbed the wallet her aunt had left her on the desk. With that, she bolted out the door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

The security door opened, and Pei Xiaoshan, who had been waiting impatiently, pointed angrily at her watch and scolded: “Look at the time! Look at it! I’ve been calling you for ten minutes, and you didn’t answer my calls or texts. Did you secretly stay up all night solving problems?”

Sang Li weakly replied: “...I didn’t.”

Pei Xiaoshan glared at her, refusing to let it go.

Sang Li raised her hands in surrender: “Okay, I solved two problems.” She paused. “But it wasn’t behind your back—I studied openly.”

Pei Xiaoshan burst out laughing: “Don’t get too cocky.”

Pei Xiaoshan wasn’t truly angry. She affectionately linked arms with Sang Li as they walked downstairs together. “By the way, which university are you planning to apply to? I know I won’t score as well as you, but I can try to get into the same city. If we can’t be classmates, at least we can be meal buddies, right?”

Sang Li had always been a top student. Her difficult family circumstances made her exceptionally diligent, and combined with her intelligence, she consistently ranked in the top ten of her grade in every exam.

Pei Xiaoshan knew she couldn’t compete, so she worked hard to aim for the same city. If she couldn’t be her classmate, at least she could be her lunch companion, right?

After some thought, Sang Li said: “Maybe Tsinghua University.”

Pei Xiaoshan: “Information Engineering?”

Sang Li nodded. “I’m really interested in pursuing drone technology, so I want to give it a try.”

Drone technology was still a relatively new field, and for Pei Xiaoshan, it was a bit too advanced. She looked at Sang Li with admiration, nudged her shoulder playfully, and teased: “If you succeed, don’t forget about me, okay?”

Sang Li smiled: “Of course not.” Then, without thinking, she blurted out, “Besides, you’ll soon be going abroad with your parents.”

Pei Xiaoshan’s expression froze in surprise: “What are you talking about? My parents returned to China ten years ago. Why would I go abroad? Did studying mess up your brain?”

Sang Li’s smile instantly stiffened as she stared at her friend’s bewildered expression, a chill creeping over her limbs.

That’s right—in her memory, her best friend had gone abroad in middle school. So why was she here now? And her aunt… she clearly remembered… her aunt was dead.

For this city, six o’clock in the morning was bustling with activity. Pedestrians heading to work and students going to school filled the streets, and the aroma of breakfast stalls wafted through the air, creating a lively atmosphere.

Yet Sang Li felt strangely alienated.

It was as if… this world she once knew no longer belonged to her.

But if she didn’t belong here, where did she belong?

Pei Xiaoshan clung to her arm, chatting animatedly from one topic to another until they reached the school gate.

It was just an ordinary morning.

No different from before.

But it shouldn’t have been like this.

Deep down, a voice whispered to her: This isn’t real.

Sang Li couldn’t explain why.

After arriving at the classroom, the two separated.

Sang Li had been placed in the “Rocket Class” for her senior year of high school, a class with only about twenty students.

She sat in the front row and had just put down her bag when the boy sitting next to her approached with his workbook. “Sang Li, can you teach me how to solve this problem?”

As he asked, the boy couldn’t help but steal curious glances at her face. However, boys of this age were shy, and even when facing the girl they liked, they dared only sneak a quick glance, not allowing themselves any further thoughts.

“Let me see.” Sang Li skimmed through the outline of the question and frowned. “Didn’t you already learn how to solve this problem a long time ago?”

“Huh?” The boy’s eyes widened. “But... this was the homework our teacher assigned last night—an advanced math problem. It’s really difficult.”

How could that be?!

Sang Li’s eyes also widened. She clearly remembered that their homeroom teacher had already explained this exact problem earlier, with no difference in the question format whatsoever.

Just then, the bell rang to signal the start of class.

What happened next made Sang Li even more alarmed—she realized she already knew all the problems the teacher was explaining!

It was as if she had already studied them before, deeply etched into her mind.

Something wasn’t right—it was highly unusual.

She was smart, yes, but her intelligence was built on hard work. How could she suddenly understand everything without effort?

At 7 PM, after bidding farewell to Pei Xiaoshan, Sang Li returned home alone.

When she pushed open the door, the familiar scent of home enveloped her.

Her aunt had already returned from work and was busy in the kitchen wearing an apron. On the table were two dishes—her favorite Mapo Tofu and Sweet and Sour Spare Ribs.

Her aunt peeked out from the kitchen: “Youyou, are you back?”

“Mm,” Sang Li replied listlessly, still distracted by the day’s anomalies.

“Go wash your hands and get ready to eat.”

“Okay.”

Sang Li put down her bag and went to the bathroom to wash her hands and face.

When she came out, she noticed something strange again.

Why did the bathroom door look so brand new?

She clearly remembered that after her aunt’s abusive husband was arrested, his relatives refused to let it go. They even bullied her, knowing there was only a child left at home, and used a flimsy excuse to claim ownership of the house. They had come to the house and wreaked havoc, smashing things. At the time, Sang Li had been so scared that she hid in the bathroom, too frightened to come out.

She recalled hearing two burly men shouting in an incomprehensible dialect, kicking and pounding on the door. One of them even brought an axe, hacking several deep gashes into it. If the police hadn’t arrived shortly after, the damage would have gone beyond just the door.

Later, as Sang Li was busy handling her aunt’s funeral arrangements and struggling financially, she never got around to replacing the damaged door.

It shouldn’t be intact.

No…

This wasn’t right.

Her head throbbed painfully. Something inside her seemed to be breaking free, and she panicked, her breathing becoming rapid and labored.

Without washing her hands, Sang Li rushed back to her room and grabbed a random test paper she had never completed from her desk. She began solving it as if possessed, finishing the entire advanced math exam in less than half an hour.

147 points.

Her mind automatically calculated the score.

Sang Li checked her answers against the solutions at the back of the test paper—the result was 147.

Her body went limp, unable to find support as she slumped back into her chair.

The familiar room, furniture, scents, and everything else formed an unfamiliar illusion.

More fragmented memories surfaced in her mind—

“San Youmu, I’m going abroad, and maybe… I won’t come back. But we’ll still be best friends, right? Even if we can’t see each other, you’ll always be my best friend forever, right?”

She vividly heard Pei Xiaoshan’s tearful voice echoing in her mind. She even saw the small figure of herself squatting in the airport hall, watching her best friend leave, unable to stop her, crying uncontrollably with trembling shoulders and tears streaming down her face.

“May I speak to Ms. Sang Li? Are you a family member of Sang Qing?”

And then there was the cold, detached voice of the police officer over the phone.

She still remembered that voice—the one that delivered the icy news of her aunt’s death.

Sang Li’s entire body trembled. Her head ached, she felt nauseous, and wanted to cry.

Her soul seemed to detach from her body. Feeling like she was on the verge of collapse, she clutched her head tightly, her gaze suddenly falling on the phone on her desk.

As if finding a breakthrough, Sang Li picked up the phone for the first time that day and opened their WeChat chat.

The interface was empty—nothing there.

WeChat, Weibo, video platforms—all of them were just blank icons.

She then opened the phone’s contact list.

Pei Xiaoshan had clearly called her that morning, yet there was no record of the call, not even a single phone number listed.

Of course, that was because… this was all an illusion.

Ji Hengyu had no experience with modern technology. His illusion had constructed a world based on her memories, but it couldn’t replicate the finer details.

“No desire, no thought; no thought, no imagination. Abandon your thoughts, discard the results, and thus there will be no worry, no fear.”

Her deepest desires were to return—to a time when her aunt hadn’t met that abusive man, hadn’t been beaten to death; to stay forever with her beloved family and best friend, never to part.

This was her innermost, most cherished wish.

Even after coming to this world and calmly accepting the fact of her transmigration, she had never truly let go of it.

The illusion exploited this longing, weaving a beautiful dream for her.

[Abandon your thoughts, discard the results, and thus there will be no worry, no fear.]

These words… were telling her to let go.

Only by letting go could she find peace.

Sang Li wiped away her tears, took a deep breath, stood up, and walked out of the room.

The lights were bright.

Her aunt’s figure was so warm that Sang Li momentarily thought this might actually be real.

“Youyou, why aren’t you coming to eat?” Her aunt noticed her, fiddling with the utensils while glancing at her. “Did you cry?”

The illusion was so vivid.

Her hair, her features—they were exactly as Sang Li remembered, deeply ingrained in her heart.

Sang Li stared at her without blinking, her movements stiff as she stepped closer and hugged her tightly, calling out softly, “Auntie.”

Her aunt patted her cheek gently: “Oh dear, what’s wrong with Youyou today? Did something happen at school?”

After realizing this was all an illusion, Sang Li could no longer feel physical sensations—no touch, no warmth. Holding her was like holding thin air.

Sang Li didn’t know when the illusion would end, but she clung to her aunt’s body tightly, almost greedily.

“Auntie… Auntie…”

“I’m here.”

“Only you call me Youyou…” Tears spilled down Sang Li’s cheeks. “After you left, no one ever called me that again. What should I do, Auntie? I don’t have any family left.”

Her aunt didn’t understand what she was talking about. With tender affection, she stroked Sang Li’s hair. The soft glow of the lights made her face gentle and kind, though Sang Li barely noticed her fingertips gradually turning transparent. Her aunt’s gaze was filled with love for her.

Through tear-filled eyes, Sang Li traced her aunt’s features over and over again with her gaze.

Her aunt had been such a beautiful person, so gentle and kind. But when she died, her body was battered beyond recognition. She had loved beauty so much, yet in the end, her features couldn’t even be pieced back together.

The more beautiful this illusion was, the harsher the reality it masked became.

“If you haven’t reincarnated yet, you might not be able to find me in the underworld, but don’t worry—I… I’m not dead,” Sang Li choked out, her voice trembling. “I’ll live well in another world. I’ll survive. So… please don’t look for me. Go… go find a good family. Don’t let me burden you in this life. Don’t sacrifice yourself for others ever again. Don’t ruin yourself.”

Her aunt had suffered too much. She had given up so much for her.

Deep down, Sang Li had always known. If it weren’t for her, her aunt wouldn’t have rushed into that blind matchmaking and married a man she had only met a few times. And if not for that, she wouldn’t have stepped into hell, never to escape again.

Reluctantly, Sang Li loosened her grip and took two steps back, watching as her beloved aunt’s smiling face froze forever in that moment.

With one last radiant smile, Sang Li said to her—

“I’m leaving now, Auntie. Please take care of yourself.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “You know… I love you the most.”

Crack!

The illusion froze, then shattered like a broken mirror, crumbling into pieces in the blink of an eye.

Sang Li was thrust back into the secret realm.

Breaking free from the void, she found herself stranded in an endless desert. Above her, the stars and moon were dim and lifeless, while the swirling sands threatened to swallow her whole.

In this vast expanse of emptiness, she was the only living being.

She knew she had passed this trial.

She also knew that she would never be able to return to that world again.

Alone in the desolate wasteland, Sang Li wept like a lost child who could no longer find her way home.