Chapter 166 - Love from the Male Protagonist’s Harem

She felt somewhat dizzy, her soul being tainted by the divine, but this was her own choice. She chose this so she would soon no longer bear the shackles of the god of fortune, so she could transform into a true god of misfortune. God of misfortune. One who can do no wrong. The person seemed to smile, though without any hint of mockery. "I found in the heavenly archives that there's a god of misfortune locked here... After the twilight of the gods, you are the only remaining deity." The sole remaining deity... So what? "So, you shouldn't stay here any longer. You should go out and see the world." The person spoke lightly, patting her on the head. A warm hand. It left her momentarily bewildered. "Do you still have any followers?" The person quickly withdrew her hand and asked, pausing a moment as if she found her question odd. She reconsidered and rephrased, "Or rather... is there something out there that you care about or are attached to?" —None. Things she cared about or were attached to, not a single one. For a god imprisoned for hundreds of years, there was an instant feeling of having nothing to show. And a sense of confusion about where to go next. No, not completely without anything. She wanted to tell this person that she once had countless followers—she wasn’t completely alone. ...Not true. Like a child desperately claiming her own greatness, as if only by doing so could she feel a bit of pride. Even though she couldn't speak human languages. Even though she knew she no longer had followers. After all, she'd been locked here for so many years; those who once worshipped her had long turned into stories from a century ago. Gradually, she tightened the corner of her deep red garment. When she was the goddess of fortune and misfortune, she favored white clothing. In the legends from a century ago, there was a white-clad god of fortune who bestowed blessings upon the land, and a white-clad god of misfortune who brought chaos. Eventually, her white clothes became prison garb, and through countless punishments, her garments soaked up centuries of resentment and tears, turning a deep red. Every scarlet inch of those clothes reflected her hatred for the mortal realm. Those who abandon the gods shall be abandoned by them. She thought venomously that one day she would make those who forgot her pay the price! The person didn’t see the gloom in her eyes but understood the anxiety indicated by her tightened grip on her clothes. She said, "If you don’t have anyone, I can be your follower." —If you have no one, I will be your follower. As if speaking to a child angered over a lost candy, clutching her clothes in silent fury, "If you don’t have any, I can be your piece of candy." She froze. In that moment, all her malicious thoughts vanished, replaced by an indescribable feeling. A feeling warm and cozy, making her both uneasy and inexplicably hopeful. She listened to many of the words she said, concentrating on each one, but her mind, her heart, and even her blood only seemed to echo that one phrase— Let me be your follower. She felt nervous but didn’t want the person to notice. How could a powerful god get anxious over something like gaining a single follower? It was absurd—so she tried to focus, listening to whatever this person was saying. She heard her say, "I had no idea you were so small, yet such a formidable god of misfortune." "..." Six hundred years of captivity had left her spirit chaotic and her body shrunken, now resembling a frail child. No longer bearing any threatening appearance. "The archives say you brought plagues six hundred years ago and cursed children..." The person recounted many things she’d done as the god of misfortune. But not a word about the good deeds she’d done, the springs that irrigated parched fields, the lands she’d protected, the sick she’d healed, the lands she’d blessed. Not a word. —God of misfortune? She pondered. Yes, she was the god of misfortune. This person, aware of her wrongdoings and her identity as a god of misfortune, still wanted to be her follower? She wasn’t a... villain. Only villains would worship a god of misfortune. Was it just to comfort her? How could that be? How could such a person exist? Even if it were just comfort, she didn’t want this person to believe in her. "But I don’t quite believe it." She said suddenly, her voice soft, "I’m your follower, but I don’t believe you’re a god of misfortune like in the books." She was stunned again. After a while, she muttered to herself, "You... don’t believe?" She seemed to forget her hoarse voice and the incomprehensible language she spoke, merely murmuring, "How can you not believe?" It had been hundreds of years. Everyone said she was wrong. So she cursed them; she triggered the twilight of the gods, leading all deities to an untimely end; she enthroned a tyrant to wreak havoc upon the world. She truly was a genuine god of misfortune. Thus, it had been countless ages since anyone believed in her other identity. Slowly, she raised her head to look at her. She wanted to clearly see this person’s appearance, and finally, after being steeped in darkness for so long, her eyes began to focus. In her view was a young girl wearing wooden sandals that revealed her round toes, casually tied black hair, looking at her with eyes bright as stars. Her lips curved into a smile, a smile that seemed to encompass all the world's warmth and tenderness. ...A particularly beautiful smile. "I heard you were once a god of fortune," the girl said. "Gods of misfortune do bad things, but gods of fortune do good things too. Historians often take things out of context—I've gotten used to it." She claimed she was a god of fortune. But no one believed her anymore. Even she was starting to doubt it. "If no one believes you're a god of fortune, then be my god of fortune," the girl saw her expression and said, "I will believe in you." "I'll teach you how to speak human languages so you can tell me all about what you did before." "If no one remembers, I'll remember for you." "I will always remember." She couldn't quite hear her words clearly, yet felt the smile was dazzling and radiant, like a ray of light piercing deep into the muddled, lonely soul. Whether remembered or not, it didn't really matter. She... just suddenly wanted to stay by this person's side. She had never met someone so warm. She wanted to hold onto her. —She also wanted to smile beautifully and charmingly, just like this person. If becoming a god of fortune could allow that. "...I... haven't been a god of fortune in a long time." She spoke, flustered, as the corruption of the divine by the mortal soul continued. Suddenly, she panicked, afraid that she might never change back. If her divine soul was tainted, could she still be this person's god of fortune? She spoke in divine tongue, giving excuses the person couldn't understand, "I can't do it, I... " Odd, odd. Clearly, this person couldn't understand her words, but when she looked into her eyes, it was as if she could see into her heart. She couldn't continue, for the first time stammering, meekly, "I..." "No confidence?" Xia Wushuang sat down, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at her and blinked, "What are you afraid of? I won’t blame you even if you mess up." "You're my god of fortune now," she said, "Consider it a trial. Tell me your story, and I’ll craft a little book for others to see. After graduation, you'll definitely become a god of fortune for many, many people, just like the ones on the door." System: "Those on the door are door gods." "...They're gods of fortune. They will be in the future," Xia Wushuang ignored the system and told the shrunken god of misfortune, "You need to work hard to stick yourself on doors, understand?" She nodded, quietly gripping her clothing corner. The darkness brought on by the mortal soul vanished instantly. Her divine soul was pure again, returning her to her original self without her realizing. ... Su Chan thought. She was her own god of fortune, always had been. If she weren't there, she would be a god of misfortune. Naturally, she should be committing all manners of evil. But just because this one person said, "I will believe in you." Thus, only she could receive her protection and... love. Su Chan slowly touched the bone flute, her agitated spirit calming. She put away the map, lowering her lashes, and gazed lightly at Gu Peijiu and others below, letting out a soft chuckle. "...Gu Peijiu." She spoke the name softly, word by word, a blend of allure and chill. "After so long apart, naturally, I owe you a grand gift." == As if to validate her thoughts, in the next moment when Zhèn Hún transformed into its garment demon form, the earth quaked! The entire mountain range shook as if something wanted to break free and wreak havoc! Strange birds shrieked, unidentified beasts roared. Xia Ge lightly tapped the ground, activating her ghostly steps, shooting like an arrow from the bow! For the first time, Xia Ge experienced the sensation of walking on air. But the pleasant feeling didn't last. At first, Xia Ge felt as light as a swallow, reveling in it. With a flick, she could leap from one mountain peak to another two kilometers away, phantoms trailing behind her. But just as she intended to move outward— Suddenly, she couldn't move. Xia Ge: "???" In the next instant, twisting around, Xia Ge found out firsthand what they meant by joy turning into sorrow. She was being run off with by Zhèn Hún! Unknown direction, unknown destination, but fast as a gale, leagues passed beneath their feet! "Hey, hey, hey... you can't play like this—aren't you my clothes?!" The biting cold made her face ache. Stunned, Xia Ge began frantically yanking at her sleeves, trying to take off the clothes, the mismatched cooperation between person and clothes resulting in a stumbling journey. Xia Ge slipped and took a tumble. "Where are you taking me?! How do I take off these clothes?! System, help me—!" The system stood aloof, speaking gravely, "Power that does not belong to oneself is often difficult to control." Xia Ge, hurtling along helplessly, gasped, "So you damn well tell me how to take it off?!" System: "If the garment spirit doesn't consent, you can't take it off." Pausing, it added, piercingly, "After all, it's stronger than you." "You're joking, right?! This is a mission item! How can it not listen! This is coercion! I want to file a complaint!!" The system chimed in with little sympathy, simply stirring the pot: "Oh yes, absolutely outrageous, so terribly unfair. But sorry, the complaint channel closed three years ago. I thought I mentioned it." Xia Ge: "..." No, it never existed. Stumbling and staggering, Xia Ge was whisked by Zhèn Hún right to the foot of a mountain. Upon arrival, control of her body was abruptly returned to her. Having taken more than a few tumbles along the way, Xia Ge was left baffled and clueless. Where was she? And why had Zhèn Hún brought her here? She glanced around. They were still within the basin but quite unlike the rocky desolation where she'd first emerged from the River of Time. Here, the ground sprouted fine, tender grasses. From afar, it was a scene of clear blue skies and lush green fields. Her gaze fell on a smooth cliff face standing proud not far away, which looked as though it had been sliced cleanly from the heavens by a divine blade. The scenery was quite pleasant. For some reason, Xia Ge found the cliff familiar, scrutinizing it closely and pondering for a moment. This is... This area looked a bit like the place depicted in the ceiling mural of the ancestor's tomb...? Xia Ge struggled to remember; three years had passed, and the mural details were somewhat hazy. But she vaguely recalled a mountain and a woman resembling the Lingshi Ancestor kneeling before it, weeping in repentance. The second mural showed her standing atop the mountain, playing a flute. Though it was a bit unclear, the mountain head depicted seemed to match this one. Suddenly, Xia Ge recalled how Zhèn Hún had first described itself to her: as a "guide." Could it be... the so-called guide was meant to lead her to this mountain, where the ancestor once knelt? But what was the point? Surely it wasn't just a sightseeing trip? Or did it expect the disciple to kneel at the same mountain again? That'd be absurd! After mulling it over, Xia Ge began surveying her surroundings, noting that among the many prominent peaks of the Mountain of Malice, this was the only place with a smooth cliff face. She couldn't help but wonder about the connection. Zhèn Hún had claimed to be a guide and mentioned someone attempting to release the million evil spirits imprisoned in the Mountain of Malice, then subsequently led her to this mountain. Could there be a link? As she pondered, Xia Ge started approaching the cliff, but after a few steps, she noticed something was off. Underfoot, the soft and delicate grass had patches lying flat, as if someone had tread upon them. Xia Ge halted her steps, staring at the grass that bore semblance to footprints. Some experts in light-footed techniques could still occasionally touch the ground to gain momentum, unless they wore flight-capable garments or possessed other flying artifacts. These weren't beast tracks but rather the remnants of someone who had used their lightfoot abilities. —Someone was attempting to release the million evil spirits of the Mountain of Malice. —I am your guide. Alright, she'd discovered a suspect's trail. Xia Ge surveyed the cliff face before her. Light flickered from her hand, a scythe returning to her grasp, poised for cautious investigation. Yet, in the very moment she took hold of the scythe, the cloud patterns on Zhèn Hún's sleeve shone brightly. In an instant, intricate clouds spread across the scythe's surface! Xia Ge's pupils contracted slightly as an indescribable power surged from the scythe into her soul. The black scythe, now etched with snowy cloud designs, exuded a sharp and majestic presence. Like a lurking death god standing at the pinnacle of life, holding dominion over the souls and staring disdainfully at all... God. It felt as though a mere sweep could harness divine power to cleave through icy mountains, stirring huge waves, shifting the stars, and overturning clouds and rain. The system mechanically began its guidance: [Zhèn Hún · Alignment: Transform the host's weapon into part of the garment spirit, granting the host powerful physical and magical attacks, capable of slicing intangible specters.] [This power is entirely at the host's disposal.] Xia Ge finally understood; this was the force of Zhèn Hún. "Thanks." She understood very well that she hadn't truly earned Zhèn Hún's endorsement. Zhèn Hún originally spoke only of "assisting," a stark contrast to the relationship between her senior sister and Tianzhu Ling. Whatever that relationship was, Xia Ge wasn't sure. But she had an inkling it was a close partnership, an unspoken understanding. The relationship between a garment spirit and a person is usually one where the stronger dominates, the weaker submits. Commonly speaking, she couldn't oppose Zhèn Hún, so naturally, she'd be controlled by it. However, because of the initially agreed-upon "assistance," they managed to coexist peacefully. In summary, Zhèn Hún's attitude toward her was likely that while it "wouldn't" control her, it wouldn't be controlled either. It might offer some help when necessary and insure her safety, but whether it would fight wholeheartedly on her behalf depended on its mood. A cold, emotionless partnership. "How utterly lacking in human touch," Xia Ge silently grumbled to herself, still peeved that Zhèn Hún had violated their unspoken agreement by bringing her here against her will. But first things first, she needed to figure out what was amiss here. And besides... why hadn't Zhèn Hún stopped whoever else had entered already? Xia Ge couldn't help but comment inwardly once again. It sure was quick to bully her, but when it came to stopping intruders, why did it suddenly lose its edge? As soon as the thought emerged, the scythe in Xia Ge’s hand flickered, its cloud patterns disappearing completely, along with that powerful force. Xia Ge: "..." Xia Ge: "???" The system explained sympathetically: "To maintain intuitive connection, once you wear the garment spirit, it can sense your thoughts." Xia Ge: "..." What kind of pointless feature is this so-called intuitive connection? In a relationship as fragile as that of plastic sisters, does one honestly need deep understanding? Couldn't they just maintain a clear client-contractor relationship?! Xia Ge struggled to maintain a composed smile: "So why can't I know its thoughts?" The system replied tactfully, "Weren't its thoughts just expressed?" Xia Ge glanced blankly at her now unadorned, bald black scythe. Oh, understood. So what it was probably implying— Anyway, I'll only bully you—clean up your act and go solo, good luck. Did it really have to create trouble for her at such a crucial moment?! Recalling the tumble she'd taken earlier at Zhèn Hún's behest—an experience akin to falling thirteen stories face-first—the jolt had been utterly unforgettable. Zhèn Hún was just as exasperating as the system, now confirmed. Whatever, adding some engravings to the scythe didn't matter. Back then, Xia Ge was perfectly fine living without anything fancy. Who needed it? Xia Ge pouted, hugging her scythe, as she continued to cautiously follow the footprints towards the cliff. Initially, the stone wall showed nothing, smooth as could be. Xia Ge found it peculiar, tapping the wall with her scythe until she'd unwittingly chipped a few notches into the flawless stone. System: "...Maybe you should carve 'I was here'?" Xia Ge feigned seriousness: "Smart idea, brilliant suggestion." System: "..." Naturally, Xia Ge had no intention of scrawling such graffiti. She was convinced the stone wall held secrets. The footprints led up to it, yet with no signs of departure, the person couldn't simply vanish. Unless— Unless there was a mechanism on the cliff face she hadn't noticed. As though acknowledging her clever deduction. "Thud." The scythe struck something different, the sound muffled, the sensation somewhat distinct. Xia Ge paused, an ominous feeling suddenly washing over her. It turned out her premonition was correct. "Boom—" A colossal explosion erupted with a deafening roar, casting extreme heat in waves. Without a doubt, Xia Ge was sent flying, her body tumbling awkwardly through the air before landing solidly about a kilometer away. Apart from initially feeling a second of the explosion's heat, there was no sensation. Xia Ge touched her face, only to find it covered in ash. Lifting her gaze, she saw intricate cloud patterns swirling around her. They floated and twisted like a protective circle, the dark hem of her garment fluttering as the complex cloud-patterned symbols absorbed all explosive threats. Thus, she emerged completely unharmed by the intense explosion. Xia Ge: "...Thanks." Of course, Zhèn Hún wouldn't respond. But Xia Ge could perceive that it seemed a bit pleased with itself. It was an indescribable feeling, quite subtle—a strange bond linking two distinct souls. Unable to communicate via words, yet capable of exchanging sentiments. Matching the once aloof, disdainful guide with the slightly smug garment spirit now left Xia Ge feeling off-kilter, no matter how she contrasted them. To confirm the efficacy of this supposed "intuitive connection," Xia Ge decided to perform an experiment. Brushing nonexistent dust from herself, she casually transferred the ash from her face onto Zhèn Hún. Indeed, everything about her remained impeccably spotless, bar her face. Absolutely intentional. A petty garment spirit, leaving her face ashen as a form of petty revenge. Wasn't it simply adorable? "Much appreciated," Xia Ge said insincerely, "Truly grateful." She sensed that the "pleased" emotion dwindled swiftly, replaced by something far gloomier. Wiping the ash onto Zhèn Hún, the petty spirit was indeed upset. Realizing this, Xia Ge silently mused that this intuitive connection was real. Then abruptly feigned ignorance: "Ah, I forgot I had ash on my hand!" System: "..." With such intuitive connections, were you acting for the blind…? Anyway, how Xia Ge managed to trip three times on level ground on her way back isn’t worth mentioning. Returning to the original spot, the previously smooth cliff had been blown apart by the explosion, leaving a large gaping hole amid the dust, revealing a pitch-black corridor within. Clearly, the breach exposed a corridor bend, not the main entrance. Xia Ge had struck the explosive mechanism with the scythe, not the door mechanism. The blast's power was significant; being flung a kilometer wasn't gentle. Had it not been for Zhèn Hún's protection, whether she'd survive, or survive missing limbs, was truly uncertain. Fortunately, being launched hadn't obliterated the mountain, only opening a hole. This mountain sure was sturdy. And as sturdy as Xia Ge, who tripped on level ground. Xia Ge focused on the breached passageway. She vaguely sensed Zhèn Hún's excitement. …Seems she found the right place. Xia Ge tightened her grip on the scythe and entered the corridor. She hadn't crouched and walked a few steps when the entire mountain began to shake violently! The tremors were intense, making it impossible for Xia Ge to stand without bracing against the stone wall. Simultaneously, she felt a sharp shift in Zhèn Hún's mood from excitement to palpable anxiety! Her pupils constricted slightly. What was happening?! She quickly found out. Wails. Agonizing wails. Xia Ge's hand gripped the scythe, her knuckles turning white. —These wails were all too familiar, a haunting sound from long ago that had made her wish for death over life. Those were the howls of malevolent spirits! From outside! == After Xia Ge triggered the wrong mechanism and was sent flying. Within the corridor inside the cliff, a puppet clad in red reached its destination. At the corridor's end, there was a circular stone chamber. The floor was engraved with a massive ancient spirit-gathering array, and a small stone round table stood in the chamber's center. Upon the round table, there was a glowing golden array, and a scarlet talisman spun quietly above it, as if stained with fresh blood. The ancient spirit-gathering array absorbed vast amounts of spiritual energy from the mountains, channeling it into the golden array on the table. The array's golden light flickered, emanating a calming aura. The red talisman spun, everything seeming stable. The puppet in red traversed the ancient array, arriving in front of the stone table and reaching towards the red talisman. The resplendent golden light illuminated the puppet's face. The smooth face, resembling graffiti drawn by its owner, held an enormous, vibrant smile, yet tears flowed from its eyes. It seemed both joyful and sorrowful, leaving one to wonder whether it cried with joy or laughed with sorrow. The puppet extended a wooden, jointed hand. As it touched the red talisman, it paused. The wooden fingertips felt no warmth at all. Far outside the Mountain of Malice's basin, seated on a high peak, Su Chan was playing the flute. But she stopped abruptly with an electric shock when her fingers touched it. The flute's music cut off, and the puppet, devoid of command, stopped moving, like a wind-up toy run down, standing still. "..." The sky was a clear blue. Whatever the puppet's fingertips touched, it was that person's... heart's blood. The once fervent, pulsating heart of that person. A heart she, Su Chan, had cherished endlessly, keeping hidden within her own. Su Chan's lips curved in a slight arc, then slowly fell back to neutrality. But... where was the person? She gazed at the bone flute in her hands. White Bone Lament. White bone... lament. A few blazing phoenixes circled the sky, coming near her but quickly withdrawing upon sensing trouble, seeking new targets elsewhere. Look, even beasts are so clever, knowing she's not to be trifled with. Why... why provoke her? After provoking, why not... see it through? Leaving like this, what was the point? A joke? The next moment, one of the departing phoenixes screeched sharply, then exploded, shredding apart the sky’s azure with scarlet mist, black feathers drifting down—a radiant bloody firework to light up the day. Clad in a blood-red robe, Su Chan lowered her eyes, hiding the last traces of tenderness and hesitation. The flute music resumed, and the puppet's tear-filled eyes changed, suddenly tearing apart the red talisman! "Roar—" "Sob sob sob..." "Caw caw caw—" The once-clear sky darkened, and the freed malevolent spirits, like prisoners seeing the light for the first time, were elated! They roared, wept, and bellowed, charging from their mountainous prison, reaching towards the heavens, embracing freedom. Below, chaos ensued among the people. "Did you hear something?" "Someone... someone is crying!" "Who's crying?!" "..." Su Chan put away the White Bone Lament, and Spring and Autumn of Blood transformed, her robes turning black. The contours of her face shifted slightly, now mirroring Xia Ge’s features! "Xia Ge" picked up the red 'Yearning' ribbon, letting it flutter in the breeze, a glint of cold amusement in her cat-like eyes. She slowly tied the 'Yearning' into her dark hair, murmuring amidst the roaring spirits, "The show is about to start." Are you ready? In the forest's shadows, Gu Peijiu felt her heart skip, sensing a familiar presence spreading out, halting her steps with a hint of unease crossing her otherwise stoic features. "What’s the matter, Senior Sister?" Lu Qie noticed Gu Peijiu pause and asked curiously, "Why'd you stop? Is there danger up ahead?" The cries grew louder, and Gu Peijiu knew the malevolent spirits of the Mountain of Malice were starting their assault. The danger ahead was not just a possibility. Gu Peijiu stopped; many disciples following also halted, looking to her—the backbone of their group—with unease over the potentially emerging threat. Pausing for a moment before she shook her head, continuing forward, "It's nothing." Perhaps it was just an illusion. For just a moment, she felt... the aura of 'Yearning.' But that child had no reason to be here. There was... no reason. Her hand gripped slightly tighter. Don’t come. Absolutely— After all, so afraid of ghosts. Might even cry. == The entire world seemed engulfed in the sound of weeping women, giggling men, and wailing infants, disorienting and looming like thunderous echoes right beside one's ears. Instinctively, Xia Ge clapped her hands over her ears!! It was as if, in a single instant, the rules containing the unknown shattered, and everything unknown surged forth! "Roar—" Xia Ge looked up sharply, seeing a flash of golden light deep within the corridor! Without even thinking, she rushed forward, hands clamped over her ears! In that instant, it seemed as though she fused with Zhèn Hún. Intuitively, she knew that the golden light at the end of the corridor was the key to everything! "Roar—" Like fungi sprouting from rotted wood, a grotesque head suddenly emerged from the stone wall. Its face was covered in blood, eyes bulging, a maw full of sharp fangs; slowly, it pulled its neck, shoulders, pale arms, one by one, out from the stone wall! "Ah!" Xia Ge gaped in horror at first sight, fear instinctively ripping through her, as memories of past torments and sufferings loomed to replay—cruel echoes of her dark experiences brewing anew— The malevolent spirit’s daunting visage had dredged Xia Ge's deepest shadowy memories! Endless tortures, excruciating pains etched into one’s very essence, all those incurred from the malice and despair this spirit underwent in life, cycling once more— Xia Ge’s body seized, gripping the scythe, instinctively taking a small step backward. Yet, the surge of soothing energy from Zhèn Hún enveloped her, its gentle presence calming her terror. Xia Ge’s trembling eased, taking a breath, realizing that this spirit was distinct from those she’d encountered before. The ghosts previously faced were intangible, imparting agony upon passing through her, whereas this one— It could materialize! The spirit, still extracting itself from the corridor, eyed Xia Ge retreating, its protruding eyes rotating as it opened its mouth in a grin, exposing serrated teeth against its frightful features—a visage both grisly and mirthful. With Zhèn Hún stabilizing her emotions, Xia Ge’s eyes hardened as she swung her scythe! Her strike sliced empty air! It was fast! At the last moment, the spirit had wholly emerged from the wall, dodging aside, its sinister laughter accompanying claws slicing toward her. Xia Ge sidestepped swiftly! A gale of movement, her silhouette quick as a flash! The duel began as one human, one ghost danced, Xia Ge stunned to find that even with Zhèn Hún's aid, she couldn’t quite outpace the spirit! Her eyes abruptly turned to emerald beast eyes, yet even her enhanced vision couldn’t track the spirit’s movements! And in less than a second of her daze— The spirit’s face loomed, intimately close. It had matched her speed and rhythm, cat-like in its anticipation, goading her with twisted delight, bared black teeth sharply awaiting. Instinctively, Xia Ge slashed at it with the scythe! The black blade, utterly ineffective. The spirit laughed mockingly, intercepting the scythe with its left hand while its right hand darted like lightning for Xia Ge's throat! "Shii—" "Roar—" Xia Ge jerked her head back as the claw grazed her neck with three thin lines of blood. Just as the claws threatened to pierce deeply, the dark "mortal blade" was suddenly enveloped in mysterious cloud patterns, a terrifying power surging upon contact with the spirit. The blade transformed into a divine weapon capable of obliterating all with one cut! Before the spirit could revel in its anticipated bloodshed, its body was unexpectedly cleaved apart by the "mortal blade," riven through seamlessly! Even as pain coursed through it, the spirit still arrogantly believed its fragmented form could reassemble. It bellowed provocatively, its lower half stumbling before collapse. Yet, it wouldn't last much longer. It didn’t stay triumphant for long before realizing in panic that its lower half was disintegrating. Like dust upon the wind or a spirit purified, its strength diminished, converting to points of light absorbed by the scythe’s cloud patterns. It was an awe-inspiring sensation—the scythe’s forging vibrated with a warm glow, Xia Ge feeling the patterns throbbing, quivering, savoring their fulfillment. As the spirit’s power waned, the scythe’s strength surged. The spirit panicked, its defiant roaring futilely met with inevitable demise. Its power ultimately devoured by the spectral patterns on Zhèn Hún. Xia Ge’s beast eyes reverted, coming to understand why this ghost was so formidable. This was a 600-year-old spirit, having consumed untold numbers of lives until it could materialize physically—it truly met its just end. Touching the faint lines on her neck, Xia Ge felt a subtle sting. She bought three band-aids from the system’s store, carefully patching herself up. As she did so, the scythe’s cloud patterns faded into invisibility. Xia Ge resolved to treat Zhèn Hún a bit better. After all, without it, she’d have been done for at the last moment. She couldn't help recalling something it once said. —The weak have no right to speak. Though slightly discomforting, the truth... Gently tracing her neck again, she found the words quite grounded. No wonder Zhèn Hún looked down on her. Against malevolent spirits with centuries of cultivation, her limited abilities scarcely sufficed. However, not yet fully recuperated, Xia Ge was once more beset by more spirits emerging from the stone wall! Xia Ge sighed, hefting her scythe anew. She fought her way to the end. At the end, there was nothing particularly remarkable: a stone circular hall with a curved dome overhead holding three luminous pearls. In the center, the circular floor bore lines of an array, and a small table held another intricate golden array with a bright red talisman sitting in the middle— No, not just a single talisman, but half of one. Except for half a red talisman and a red-clad puppet collapsed beneath the small round table, everything else seemed normal. Upon seeing the torn talisman, now only half of what it was supposed to be, Xia Ge immediately sensed the numb, bereft emotions emanating from Zhèn Hún. Choosing her words carefully, Xia Ge spoke, "...So, the one who sought to release the malevolent spirits has succeeded?" Zhèn Hún couldn't speak. Even if it could, its sullen mood likely wouldn't have deigned to answer Xia Ge's rather obvious question. Cautiously tiptoeing across the floor arrays, Xia Ge approached. The red puppet was clearly a tool, controlled in some unseen fashion—Zhèn Hún could effortlessly sense souls and the scent of humans, but this soulless puppet, driven by an external force, easily eluded its detection. Xia Ge knew who the mastermind was. Knowing it just made the whole scenario even more incredulous. Su Chan. Su Chan, endlessly echoing in Xia Ge’s mind, was the first time a single name had become so intricately intoned, a phrase laden with resentment and abhorrence. And so, Su Chan went through with it—just as Xia Ge had seen in the River of Time when she burned down the library, unleashing the mountain's multitude of spirits. Su Chan really did it. The entanglements of past lives were beyond Xia Ge's interest or control, yet she simply couldn't understand what kind of twisted emotion it took to drag everyone into such chaos. Moments earlier she had faced hundred-year-old spirits—without Zhèn Hún, Xia Ge knew she wouldn't have survived even a single clash. If that was the state of cultivators, what about defenseless commoners? Xia Ge picked up the red-clad puppet, gripping its garment tightly until her knuckles whitened. Its red robe, akin to a bridal gown, twirled as she raised it, meeting its painted-on visage. Xia Ge froze. The puppet’s creator seemed to have drawn randomly; its mouth stretched into an enormous smile while its eyes wept. A visage of utter sorrow. As if shocked, Xia Ge dropped it at once. A sudden, inexplicable panic clawed at her. System: "...That face is bizarre, both crying and laughing. Perhaps tears of joy?" —No, not tears of joy, but tears of sorrow. For no reason, Xia Ge felt deep down, it was sorrow. Eyes brimming with tears yet still yearning to smile, to smile brilliantly. Xia Ge parted her lips, but in the end, didn’t contradict the system's assessment. Because she couldn't fathom why Su Chan, after succeeding in unleashing a million malevolent spirits, would create such a sorrowful puppet. The red puppet tumbled onto the floor, its clothes falling open, revealing the other half of the talisman it clutched. Only now did Xia Ge notice. The puppet's right hand was pressed over its heart. In its right hand, it clutched the other half of that red talisman as if the gesture held immense significance. A struggle. Or perhaps an unwavering love that had grown lost and directionless. She stood abruptly.