Chapter 21
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This chapter is edited by Farouq Omileye. Thank you for your contribution!
Chapter 21: She Chases Hope, She Goes to Death
The Queen must have a problem.
Recalling the task triggered not long ago and the Queen’s peculiar behavior, Bai Lian became more certain of her suspicion.
What she saw wasn’t a true queen, but a girl trying her best to play the role of one. That youthful, unpolished demeanor… it was just like the involuntary hum of a girl lost in comfort.
Bai Lian sat atop the palace roof, letting the moonlight wash over her.
This time, she chose not to rush.
She decided to observe the Queen and uncover the root of her weaknesses.
“It’s a headache.”
Sometimes, Bai Lian wished she could be the kind of villain who disregarded all moral boundaries.
Then she wouldn’t have to hesitate.
She could grab the Queen, pin her down, and demand, “Tell me everything, or I’ll make your life worse than death!”
Or take a harsher approach—delve straight into her soul and uncover every secret.
No words? Then Soul Searching it is!
Bai Lian lay flat on the glazed tiles.
The Queen proved to be more patient than expected.
When Bai Lian sat, the Queen sat.
When Bai Lian lay down, the Queen soon retired to bed.
“…”
This wasn’t working.
Bai Lian realized she was wasting time. She needed to take action.
Spreading her Divine Sense, she blanketed all of Nanwang City in her awareness.
Amid the vast darkness, only two soul fires caught her attention: one was Zhao Haiya, the other her Third Younger Martial Sister.
The rest were dim and insignificant, even the Queen. The strongest among them barely reached the early stages of Foundation Establishment.
Out of options, Bai Lian left a swarm of Phantom Butterflies in the royal city for monitoring.
As she prepared to meet her Third Younger Martial Sister, a figure emerging from the far end of the street made her pause.
“Friend,” Bai Lian called out calmly.
It was Wen Su.
The fat cultivator had not been within her Divine Sense ten seconds ago.
A Golden Core Stage cultivator evading her senses? Possible, but unusual.
Wen Su sensed her wariness and stopped a few feet away.
The cool evening breeze swept through the empty street, lifting sand from Wen Su’s shoes.
“Fairy Bai Lian, you must be wondering about my identity,” he said.
Indeed.
Bai Lian nodded. “Who are you?”
Wen Su gave a bitter smile. “I am Ling Yue’s father.”
“Ling Yue?”
“She is now the Queen of Nanwang Country.”
“You’re still alive…” Bai Lian stopped herself. That sounded like a curse.
If Wen Su wasn’t lying, this story might rival a palace drama.
But Wen Su shattered her narrative in one sentence.
“I’m dead.”
Bai Lian frowned. The man standing before her didn’t appear remotely dead. Was he deceiving her?
Her hand moved instinctively toward her sword, but Wen Su explained, “This ties to the secrets of the Nanwang royal family. Thousands of years ago, Nanwang was a country ruled by cultivators. This city was built around a Spirit Tool. I exist because of that Spirit Tool.”
“What do you want from me?” Bai Lian asked.
Wen Su sighed. “Time is running out.”
“?”
“Tomorrow morning, during the royal ancestor worship ceremony, Ling Yue will die.”
“Is this because of the Demon Sect?” Bai Lian’s eyes narrowed.
“No, this has nothing to do with the Demon Sect.”
Wen Su’s gaze turned distant.
“To resurrect our ancestor, Ling Yue has chosen to become his vessel.”
His eyes flicked toward the highest palace tower, his voice tinged with regret.
—
Ling Yue’s Dream
Ling Yue had a dream.
In it, she was seven years old again.
She lived in a border oasis of Nanwang Country. Life wasn’t luxurious, but it was happy.
Until the black desert storm arrived.
The oasis was destroyed. Without water, survival became impossible.
The survivors decided to migrate in search of hope.
But all they found was death.
The short journey of one mile became an uncrossable chasm.
At seven, Ling Yue learned what death meant.
Death was falling behind on the dunes, with no one stopping to look back.
One day, Ling Yue herself fell into a sand pit. Weak and helpless, she cried without tears.
Then, water poured into her mouth.
“You shouldn’t have come into this world,” a voice murmured.
“But since you’re here, see it through.”
“You are different from us. When you arrive, they’ll all look up to you.”
“Ling Yue, live! I’ll watch you walk out of this desert.”
—
She awoke in a lavish palace. A woman in white stood by her side.
“You are the king’s daughter now,” the woman said.
Ling Yue learned her parents had died. Not from desert wolves, as claimed, but to feed her, to let her live.
Drip.
Drip.
The sound of their blood haunted her dreams.
She became the ruler of Nanwang, but power changed nothing.
The desert remained. Trees withered. The famine persisted.
Hope arrived in the form of her ancestor. He offered salvation, but at a price: her life.
—
“I died in that desert when I was seven,” Ling Yue thought. “The past twelve years have been a gift.”
—
A Father’s Plea
Bai Lian considered Wen Su’s words.
“Why don’t you tell Ling Yue yourself?” she asked.
“I can’t approach the city. My existence is bound to the Spirit Tool.”
Bai Lian was surprised. The Spirit Tool’s range must be immense.
“Even if I could speak to her,” Wen Su added, “she wouldn’t listen. Her mind is made up.”
Bai Lian nodded. “So, why ask me?”
“You’re different from other cultivators,” Wen Su replied. “I’ve watched you closely. This is my gamble—a father’s desperate plea.”
His voice cracked as he bowed deeply.
Bai Lian felt the weight of his words.
Saving one life to doom countless others was no easy decision. But Bai Lian knew the truth.
Ling Yue pursued hope, but Nanwang would still fall.
“Alright,” she said. “I’ll try.”
Wen Su wept.
Bai Lian, sword in hand, chose a direct path forward.
This time, she would confront the truth head-on.