Chapter 79
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Chapter 79: Title
The formation drawn by the Glazed Purification Brush transported them to a courtyard housing five stone statues. Each statue stood three people tall, most featureless except the central one, which bore a benevolent expression, clutched a white jade bottle, and gazed downward with lowered eyelids.
An elderly woman with snow-white hair sat nestled beside the statues, meticulously wiping them with cloth. Suiyin cradled the unconscious Xia Shi while scanning their surroundings warily, the oppressive heat around them making her extremely uneasy.
Neither Lu Ciyou nor Yan Li fared better—leaning on each other, their mouths and throats felt parched, like river fish scorched on sun-baked shores.
"Where is this?" Lu Ciyou asked, her eyes fixed on the old woman nearby.
The elderly woman appeared oblivious to the newcomers, swapping clean cloths repeatedly despite the statues’ spotless condition.
"Madam," Suiyin ventured forward.
A pitch-black cat abruptly lunged out, hissing menacingly to bar her path. Suiyin halted.
"There’s no spiritual energy here," Yan Li exclaimed, rubbing her fingers in disbelief. Multiple attempts confirmed it—not only was spiritual energy absent, but their own spiritual power also lay sealed beyond reach.
Lu Ciyou raised her hand to summon energy, then grimaced at her empty palm.
Truly, this was the case.
How could such a spiritually barren place exist in the Nine Realms? Even devoid of spiritual energy, their innate power shouldn’t be inaccessible. Without spiritual power, even a low-level Qi Practicing cultivator could destroy them—let alone pursuers from the Thirteen Ghost Domains. The strangeness of this place unsettled them deeply.
A flicker of panic crossed the young lady’s gaze. Facing formidable foes meant fighting tooth and nail, but here, sheer helplessness gripped her.
"A Li—"
"Meow—!" The black cat hissed another warning from its post by the old woman’s feet, slit-pupiled eyes coldly observing them.
When the old woman’s hand touched its head, the formerly aggressive cat instantly softened, nudging her palm with a quiet purr.
After finishing her task, the elderly woman shuffled toward the group without inquiries. "Follow me," she rasped.
"Madam…" Suiyin glanced at the freshly cleaned statue, struck by its vague familiarity.
Bent-backed, the old woman trudged toward the hall, the black cat trailing her heels. It turned and snarled at the motionless group, prodding them onward.
Lu Ciyou and Yan Li exchanged glances before looking to Suiyin.
"Let’s go," Suiyin murmured, lowering her eyes.
Inside the hall, tea awaited them. Noticing Suiyin still holding Xia Shi, the old woman guided her to a side chamber.
"You’ve carried her long enough. Fresh bedding’s laid—she’ll rest easier there, and you can finally ease your arms."
Suiyin’s grip tightened. She studied the frail old woman, distrust lingering. Gambling Xia Shi’s safety on a stranger’s kindness felt too risky.
The old woman’s murky eyes shifted, slowly revealing a smile filled with nostalgia and sorrow.
“People from that place are always like this, trembling at every shadow.”
Suiyin asked, “That place?”
The old woman sighed, “Let me think… it’s been too long to recall clearly…”
“Was it called… the Nine Realms?”
Suiyin’s brows knitted. What did she mean?
Wasn’t this place part of the Nine Realms?
“You want to know where we are?” the old woman chuckled.
Suiyin nodded earnestly.
“Lingyang City,” the old woman explained. “Formerly Qingyun City, sheltered by Fairy Lord Lingyang. Later… it was renamed.”
Suiyin abruptly remembered the courtyard’s stone statue clutching a white jade vase – no wonder it seemed familiar. That was Lingyang Jun’s likeness.
A realm guarded by an immortal lord… could this be the Mortal World?
No wonder the spiritual energy felt drained, leaving spiritual power unusable.
Suiyin exhaled softly. If this were truly the Mortal World, they needn’t fear pursuit.
She settled Xia Shi onto the bed, tenderly wiping sweat from the unconscious woman’s brow.
Noticing this, the old woman discreetly withdrew.
When Suiyin returned to the main hall moments later,
only Lu Ciyou and Yan Li remained – the old woman and her ink-dark cat had vanished.
Lu Ciyou sprang up immediately. “You actually trust her?”
The young lady peered anxiously toward the side chamber. “Leaving her alone like that… what if–”
“Bah!” Lu Ciyou spat thrice. “No ill omens! Nothing will happen!”
Despite her words, worry creased her forehead.
Suiyin smirked. “You weren’t so concerned when she was conscious.”
Lu Ciyou’s face flushed. “Don’t twist my words! I’m not worried!” she retorted, chin lifted.
Suiyin snorted.
The young lady’s sharp tongue could prop up the collapsing heavens themselves.
“This is the Mortal World,” Suiyin declared abruptly.
“What?” Lu Ciyou blinked. “The Mortal World?”
Suiyin gestured toward the courtyard statue. “That’s Lingyang Jun. We’re in what was once Qingyun City – his sanctuary a millennium past, now called Lingyang City.”
Yan Li joined them, frowning. “Teleportation formations number in hundreds, yet none bridge Nine Realms and Mortal World.”
“Unless…” Her eyes widened. “The Glazed Purification Brush?”
They recalled Xia Shi’s frantic brushstrokes – how she’d sketched their escape route as disaster loomed.
Besides this, she could think of no other possibility.
As they spoke, the Old Woman approached, the pitch-black cat trailing behind her.
She smiled at the handsome young cultivators before slowly settling into her seat.
The cat leaped onto the table, curling beside the Old Woman while staring unblinkingly at the group with icy eyes.
"You hail from the Nine Realms."
Tears shimmered in the Old Woman’s eyes as she choked out, "Fairy Lord Lingyang… how fares she?"
The three young women exchanged uneasy glances. They’d witnessed how tenderly the Old Woman cared for Lingyang Jun’s stone statue, clearly revering him deeply.
But Lingyang Jun had perished millennia ago. How could they tell this devotee her worshipped deity had long departed?
Suiyin’s throat tightened. Neither Lu Ciyou nor Yan Li could speak the truth either.
"She…" Suiyin’s lips trembled, "…thrives."
The final word faded to a whisper. Before them, the Old Woman’s intermittent laughter echoed through the hall.
"Spare me falsehoods." Tears streaked the aged face as the Old Woman fixed her gaze on Yan Li’s sword. "Broken Stream in your grasp means Lingyang has abandoned me."
The cultivators stiffened. Though Broken Stream was indeed Lingyang Jun’s legendary sword, known throughout the Nine Realms, how could this Mortal World dweller recognize it?
Mortal lives rarely exceeded a century. Even if Lingyang Jun had protected this land a thousand years past, none should remember his blade so keenly. Unless…
Suiyin studied the Old Woman anew, finding no extraordinary traits.
"I am Qingxue," the elder rose, performing a cultivator’s bow, "Lingyang’s wife."
The trio returned the gesture automatically, minds reeling. Yan Li straightened, voice tight: "Fairy Lord Lingyang charged us to investigate his wife’s demise. Yet you…"
If this woman truly was Lingyang’s spouse, she’d walked the earth for millennia – impossible without spiritual energy in the Mortal World.
Qingxue’s tears fell freely. "Dead I am, yet death eludes me." Her cracked voice held centuries of weariness. "I lingered, hoping my Fairy Lord might return."
Her eyes clouded like extinguished embers. "No more waiting."
As the last shred of vitality left her, the pitch-black cat yowled desperately, tugging her sleeve. Qingxue stroked its head, murmuring to the empty air, "Gone… she’s truly gone."
Tears rolled down her cheeks. In her daze, she seemed to see again the woman who had smiled softly at her during that Lantern Festival long ago.
So she still remembered everything so vividly.
So she had forgotten nothing.
As days turned into years, the people and events of her youth had faded from memory. She couldn’t recall the faces of the other Fairy Lords who’d accompanied Lingyang, yet Lingyang herself remained clear in her mind.
Their first meeting at the Lantern Festival – lanterns exchanged, hearts given, love blossoming in an instant.
All lovers in this world wish to grow old together.
But they could never share such white-haired twilight. Her beloved was a cultivator of the Nine Realms, needing only one final step to achieve ascension to immortality.
Buried memories surged forward –
Another Lantern Festival arrived. That day, Qingxue resolved to convince Lingyang to return to the Nine Realms. She understood the importance of immortal ascension for cultivators, determined not to become Lingyang’s chain.
But when she reached their meeting place, Lingyang herself raised the matter first, promising their eternal bond.
Qingxue waited six months in Qingyun City. At last she welcomed Lingyang, now transformed into a Fairy Lord.
True to her word, Lingyang stayed for twenty years. Under her protection, Qingyun City prospered. The people built temples and statues, maintaining constant incense offerings.
Qingxue believed this their perfect ending.
Until catastrophe struck.
When floods ravaged Qingyun City, several Fairy Lords forcibly returned Lingyang to the Nine Realms. Overnight, Qingxue aged into a centenarian crone.
She knew not Lingyang’s fate. Rumors claimed the immortals had vanished, their statues removed, worship abandoned.
Qingxue refused to believe. She couldn’t let Lingyang’s incense offerings cease – Lingyang had said offerings sustained immortals like food nourishes mortals. Her little Fairy Lord mustn’t go hungry.
Qingxue spent her entire fortune to rescue Qingyun City from floods, claiming Fairy Lord Lingyang’s intervention.
Grateful citizens renamed their home Lingyang City. The Fairy Lord’s statue remained standing, some households keeping smaller icons. For a thousand years, the incense never faded.
A tear splashed onto her fingertip, jolting Qingxue back to the present.
Studying the young men before her, she suddenly saw echoes of that long-ago Fairy Lord.
"May I… see the sword?" Her eyes fixed on Broken Stream in Yan Li’s grasp, unwilling to believe the divine weapon had chosen a new master.
Though no cultivator herself, she understood a sword’s importance to sword cultivators.
Lingyang had explained – weapons like Broken Stream wouldn’t accept new masters unless their original wielders perished.
Yan Li stepped forward, presenting the sword respectfully with both hands.
Qingxue’s trembling fingers traced the blade. Tears fell unchecked.
She gripped the hilt, but the ancient sword refused to budge – her aged arms lacked strength.
"Let me help." Yan Li gently drew the blade, offering it to Qingxue.
"Thank you."
The choked gratitude escaped as steel mirrored her wrinkled visage and crumbling heart.
The sentient weapon trembled – after a thousand years, recognizing its ancient companion.
In that vibration, Qingxue felt Lingyang gazing back across the centuries.
Qingxue returned the sword, finally unable to suppress her weeping before the others. She buried her face in trembling hands, consumed by overwhelming sorrow. The pitch-black cat kept crying urgently by her side, its eyes now inexplicably moist as if about to shed tears.
