Chapter 61

Starting from a hesitant, light peck and ending with a lingering, deeply entangled kiss, they maintained this strange posture.

In the desert, the wind howled and lightning flashed among the dark clouds. The entire realm shook and quivered, yet it failed to affect the two intimately embracing figures.

Hair intertwined, eyelashes brushing, teeth grazing lips, the tip of the tongue sweeping across gums before pushing deeper into the throat to swallow each other's breath.

A sandstorm roared in, isolated outside by protective spiritual energy, plunging the surroundings into pitch-darkness.

Yet they continued to kiss one another, never diverting their attention to the outside world.

Su Zhen could feel the myriad of emotions transmitted through it—ranging from love and cherished devotion to deep anxiety, as if dreading that there might never be a next time—

She knew he must still be worrying about something else. Those words he had previously been unable to voice due to the rules, she remembered every single one of them.

Even with her guesses, she could not be certain, and therefore could not offer any promises.

For a moment, she felt as though he feared her dismal end even more than she did herself.

This sensation was truly wondrous.

The two slowly parted.

Xiao Yu still maintained the posture of snuggling in her arms, though he could barely manage to lean against her shoulder, with the greater part of his body still outside.

He reached out to wipe the trace of moisture from the corner of her lips, then, with his other hand still cupping the back of her neck, he raised his head and pressed a kiss to the center of her brow.

"I haven't had the chance to ask... was the situation inside perilous?"

"Not really."

Su Zhen silently set him down. "Perhaps the first trial is indeed simpler? By the way, do you know of the Huishan Sect?"

Xiao Yu paused in surprise. "How is the first character written? I know several sects with the same pronunciation."

Recalling the memories that had sunk into her mind, Su Zhen roughly traced the character in the air with her hand.

Xiao Yu pondered for a moment and shook his head slightly. "I have never heard of it."

Su Zhen nodded. "Then it must have been destroyed long ago. I'll ask someone else."

With that, she took out the jade slip, flipped through the roster on it, and found that one person's name was still shining brightly.

...Zhou Ziheng.

Su Zhen thought to herself that this item was most likely in Yao Wan's possession, probably picked up conveniently when he exterminated the Zhou family.

She tapped the screen and, while pondering how to write an opening line, her finger accidentally dragged out several messy strokes, so she simply drew a turtle by default.

Without writing any other words, she sent the turtle pattern over.

The other party replied very quickly.

The jade slip displayed a familiar flurry of wild, cursive handwriting.

"Your self-portrait?"

Su Zhen: "..."

As expected, she still wanted to kill this fellow Yao Wan.

Since Zhou Ziheng's jade slip could contact many righteous cultivators, it was hardly surprising that it had been kept.

However, for Yao Wan to hold it personally and reply so quickly?

She had originally assumed he would have handed it down to some disciple or subordinate, and had only been testing the waters.

"He replied so fast."

Watching from the side, Xiao Yu's expression turned subtle as well. "You two are still as..."

Su Zhen stared at him expressionlessly.

Xiao Yu wore a solemn expression. "As deep-seated as enemies of a blood feud, as irreconcilable as fire and water, as incompatible as day and night."

Su Zhen was amused, lowering her head to examine the handwriting on the jade slip.

Yao Wan's father had been a down-and-out young master banished from his aristocratic family, and his mother was an orphan. Growing up in impoverished circumstances, he had barely managed to read a few books, resulting in a messy scrawl for handwriting.

According to him, it was only after joining the cult that he found time to practice, barely managing to build a basic framework.

At the very beginning, he would occasionally write official documents when his rank in the cult was low, writing each stroke properly. Later, as his realm advanced and he became a revered priest, he simply scribbled a few random strokes to get by.

She had written the three characters for the Huishan Sect and asked Yao Wan if any of his colleagues originated from this sect.

Yao Wan did not waste words, replying simply: "Destroyed five thousand years ago."

Su Zhen was not surprised.

For Soul-Devouring Cult demonic cultivators to turn around and slaughter their own sect—though the instances were not numerous, it was certainly not an isolated case. Given that it was so ancient, it made sense that Xiao Yu did not know.

At that time, his master might not even have been born yet.

Wait.

Five thousand years?

The Demon Gods had not existed since the very creation of the universe; their ages, or rather the duration of their manifestation in the world, varied. Although different from true living beings, Demon Gods indeed experienced birth and death.

From its founding until now, the Soul-Devouring Cult had not yet existed for five thousand years.

The appearance of the Blood-Sacrifice Demon God dated back barely five thousand years.

The jade slip suddenly grew scorching hot once more.

A new message arrived.

Yao Wan asked her: "Where did you see this sect?"

Su Zhen retorted: "What about you?"

Yao Wan replied very bluntly: "I used to organize the cult's archives when I was young."

In her past life, when Su Zhen heard this, her first reaction was to snap back at him, because the demeanor of the Soul-Devouring Cult made it hard to imagine they preserved records rather than slaughtering everything and offering complete sacrifices.

Su Zhen: "So did the records mention who wiped out the Huishan Sect? And what was the purpose of the extermination?"

Yao Wan replied swiftly: "Strange, I thought the Immortal Lord would mock me a bit, or disbelieve that my cult even possesses historical texts."

Su Zhen: "..."

Su Zhen answered righteously: "Blood God believers love to use stereotypes to judge others."

Yao Wan asked what this term meant, and upon receiving an explanation, countered: "Isn't your statement, Immortal Lord, a stereotype in itself?"

Too lazy to debate with her, Su Zhen said, "I obtained the relic of a Huishan Sect cultivator."

Her memories counted as one, presumably.

True to form, Yao Wan did not ask what the object was. "What realm are you at now?"

Unwilling to answer such a direct question, Su Zhen replied, "Thanks to the revered priest for clearing my doubts; you'll find out about other matters the next time we meet."

With that, she quickly tucked away the jade slip and turned to glare at Xiao Yu. "You are not allowed to say we are... do not say anything about Yao Wan."

The latter silently made a zipping motion across his lips.

Su Zhen fell into deep contemplation.

Liu Yunyao had suffered torment in her memories for a much longer time, lasting across several chapters.

Because those experiences took place in the Demon Realm, her process of being beaten was far bloodier; apart from broken bones and shattered limbs, portions of her body had been torn apart.

In the end, she regained lucidity because she lost a fight and was killed in combat.

The exact opposite of herself.

Su Zhen pondered: she had awakened to her identity within the memory, erupted with her own power, and defeated those people.

Therefore, could one deduce that as long as the trial-taker made choices contrary to the memory, altering the tragic fate due to befall the memory's owner, could they wake up? Could they clear the stage?

Regardless of the nature of the change.

Of course, to achieve this, one must first distinguish oneself from the owner of the memory; otherwise, one could not influence the unfolding events within it.

Thinking carefully about the description in the book—

The reason Liu Yunyao lost was also because her "self" had awakened.

She failed to assimilate completely with the memory; she felt pain and despair during the fierce battle, and believed she would lose.

Perhaps the owner of the memory had not thought that way—the memory's owner was far more resilient to these torments, treating injuries and pain as nothing, and fearing no threat of death.

Liu Yunyao was the exact opposite.

This divergence caused the two to tear apart.

Su Zhen blinked. "I'm going back in. I have some ideas to verify further. Can Senior wait, or will I come out later to find you weeping bitterly outside?"

Xiao Yu spread his hands. "Then, for my sake, hurry up and clear the stage so I don't cry my eyes blind."

Su Zhen: "..."

This person was truly impossible!

Retrieving her long bow, Su Zhen entered once more.

Standing beside the pool again, she felt no ominous premonition, nor could she imagine what Liu Yunyao had sensed to make her flee outright.

Su Zhen was genuinely curious about what other memories were buried within the pool.

The last one belonged to someone from five thousand years ago; who would the next be?

And that previous person—

Suppressing her inner speculation, her divine sense plunged deep into the pool.

When the darkness faded, she woke up with a sore back and aching limbs, a splitting headache, a stiff neck, and a body as though it had been crushed by a boulder.

"Herself" was situated in a dilapidated bedroom. Looking around, there was not a single decent piece of furniture; tables and cabinets were cobbled together from broken wooden strips. On the table sat various odd tools—bamboo shuttles, wood shavings, rattan grass, and a tangled ball of hemp rope. A half-open lattice window let in the salty, humid sea breeze.

She managed to sit up with difficulty, pulled back the blanket, and looked down at her complete yet slender left leg, alongside her right leg, which was shriveled in flesh and skin, grayish-black in hue, and as thin as a withered branch, barely able to bear any weight.

Limping, Su Zhen walked over to the window and looked out at the bustling pier in the distance.

"Herself" lived along the shore in a dwelling converted from a broken boat, spending every day either weaving fishing nets or going out to sea to fish, occasionally heading to the bay to forage for various shrimps, crabs, and shellfish among the beaches and reefs.

Though the harvest was meager, it sustained her livelihood, and gradually she managed to save a tiny bit of silver.

Su Zhen felt an inexplicable irritation, sensing that things ought not to be this way.

...What on earth was wrong?

She remembered that her legs were not like this either.

Cleaning the room while grabbing her fishing net and trident, Su Zhen prepared to go out for fishing.

A battered little boat was moored outside. Using her trident as a crutch, she hauled herself onto the vessel, and by the time she hoisted the sail, she was already panting for breath.

Yet "herself" had been physically weak since childhood, and so it was only natural.

Perhaps it was because both parents had been frail and sickly, and her older siblings had not survived past the age of three, making her fortunate by comparison.

Now that both parents had passed away, relatives had long since seized their savings, leaving behind only the remodeled wrecks of a house and a small fishing boat.

Yet "herself" had never held any resentment about this, remaining cheerful every single day.

Sitting on the boat and leaning forward, Su Zhen saw a pale face reflected on the sea surface.

His facial features were delicate, his skin rough, his cheeks sunken and thin, and his lips pale and bloodless. However, a pair of black-and-white distinct eyes shone like stars, radiating vitality and hope.

After struggling for two hours and catching only a few thin, small mullet, Su Zhen was thoroughly exhausted. She felt as though her arms were crippled and her entire body ached, eventually breaking into a fit of coughing.

Coughed up blood followed.

Su Zhen let out a long sigh.

With her weak constitution and chronic ailments, it would have been fine had she been born into a wealthy family. But wealth aside, if she went two days without working, she might well starve to death.

She had a vague premonition that she might not live for many more years.

Yet "herself" harbored no grievances, living each day happily, drinking wild vegetable and fish soup, mooring the boat in the bay during leisure moments to gaze at the twilight, admire the rising sun, or look out at storms. Though people in the town sometimes bullied him for being born disabled, he endured it in silence. Whenever neighbors had troubles, he tried his utmost to help them, which was why he could rarely save any money.

...No.

Is this me?

Su Zhen thought with a sense of bewilderment. She always felt she wasn't the type of person to endure grievances so meekly; she never let herself be bullied and only occasionally helped others based entirely on her mood, never saying yes to every request.

However, even when those people bullied her, it amounted to verbal sarcasm, a few shoves, or ruining her back basket; they didn't act like those Huishan Sect cultivators, who would routinely pin people to the ground and beat them.

...Wait, what was the Huishan Sect? Why was she making such comparisons?

Days passed one by one.

Until a stormy, windy night, when a heavy thud echoed from outside her door.

Opening the door, she found someone lying on the shallows.

The person wore embroidered brocade robes stained with blood, and a pair of battered gold-and-green wings lay across their back.

Su Zhen ran over, attempting to rouse the person. To her surprise, the person snapped their eyes open, grabbed her hand tightly, and flashed a sharp gleam in their gaze. "...Good, you're a good person."

With those words, she pulled a stack of silver notes and a handful of broken silver and gold ingots from her bosom.

"Take this money, and help me raise them. As long as—as long as two or three years, they will be able to fly. By then, send them to the boundary gate so they can return to the Demon Realm; whether they live or die will be up to their own fortune. That boundary gate is at the southern side of Milu Mountain, a hundred miles east from here. You just need to tell them, and they will find it themselves."

Having said this, she breathed her last on the spot.

Su Zhen looked blankly at her, before she could even speak, several tiny heads emerged from the monster's sleeves.

They were three fluffy, grayish-green fledglings with bright red beaks and claws. Having hatched not long ago, they could barely walk steadily, wobbling left and right and tumbling over after a few steps on the sand, their feathers soaked by the rain.

They snuggled against their mother, seemingly trying to wake the dead, but their efforts were in vain.

The little birds let out helpless, plaintive chirps.

Su Zhen carried them into the house, dragged the corpse away, and buried it. By the time she finished, she was half-dead with exhaustion, leaning against the grave mound while coughing incessantly.

"...Rest assured, Great Immortal, cough, cough, I will certainly raise them. I'll keep all your money, and when the time comes for them to leave, I'll let them take it."

She muttered a low vow before the grave, bowed deeply, and limping through the wind and rain, returned home.

Su Zhen built a crude nest for the three fledglings, placed it by the head of her bed, and tried feeding them loaches meant for fishing bait. Yet, perhaps missing their mother, the three little birds were listless, moping every day and lacking the appetite to eat. She went out to buy two ounces of lard and fried various earthworms and grasshoppers for them, which finally revived their spirits a little. They began to chirp, occasionally flapping their wings and preening each other's feathers with their vibrant red beaks.

They were exceptionally clever, understanding almost every word. Within days, they learned to nod and shake their heads, growing rapidly. Their feathers gradually became full and glossy, resembling three round, furry balls.

Every day when she pushed open the door upon returning home, the furry balls would huddle together and chirp. Handing them food, she watched them happily devour the bugs and emit tender chirps. Soon, the fledglings began eagerly snatching bugs from each other's beaks, occasionally getting into a chaotic brawl with feathers flying everywhere, only to affectionately cuddle up together again afterwards and revert to being well-behaved little fluff-balls.

A year passed, and the furry balls were already able to speak human words, though they could only manage a few syllables and call her name.

...That was not my name.

Su Zhen thought vaguely.

Yet she did not struggle much against it.

Her body grew increasingly frail, racked with pain. She often fell asleep during the day and had tumbled into the sea several times, nearly drowning.

She knew her days were numbered, but her heart held no trace of fear or sorrow.

Her happiest moments each day were teaching the little birds to speak, listening to their voices shift from cries to tender human speech, and watching their plumage grow more brilliant while their beaks and claws sharpened.

Dizzily lowering her head, Su Zhen caught her reflection on the surface of the sea.

The youth's face was deathly pale, his body gaunt to the point of skin and bones, yet those eyes remained bright, brimming with hope.

Another year slipped by. The little birds began trying to fly, standing on her shoulders, flapping their wings toward the sky, only to tumble back down onto the sand.

Sitting before the house to watch them, she suddenly realized they had grown immensely. Initially, all three could fit into the span of both her hands; now, just a single one filled her entire embrace.

"You are just like our father," the eldest of the three little birds said, her voice gentle and clear. "He was also a human, though he was a cultivator."

When Su Zhen asked where their father was, they replied that he had already passed away because someone wanted to murder their mother. Their father had protected her with his life, giving her a chance to escape, though he ultimately perished under a vicious curse.

"...Why kill her? Just because she is a demon?"

"Because she is a descendant of the Phoenix God; her feathers, bones, and blood are all worth a fortune."

The second of the three little birds spoke, his voice deep and hoarse. "These matters are carved into our memories; we have always known."

The teenage fisherman from the coastal village did not know what demonic god bloodlines implied, nor that there were numerous bird demons with this lineage in the Demon Realm, yet countless cultivators still coveted every single part of them.

Hearing this, he merely smiled weakly, reaching out to stroke the bird's head. "You will certainly be well."

The youngest disliked speaking; he simply fluttered his wings, flew over, and buried himself in his "father's" embrace.

Not long after, the town's wealthy landowner came to the dilapidated house by the sea, swaggeringly demanding to buy the three birds. The frail homeowner was shoved to the ground, and thugs swarmed forward.

The three birds shrieked angrily, flames igniting on their wings as they threw themselves at the men, driving them back.

...This was the last scene Su Zhen saw before losing consciousness.

When she woke up again, she found herself in the middle of a desolate wilderness.

The mountain forest was dark at night. Ahead flickered a campfire, beside which sat a group of young people, all dressed in gorgeous robes with long swords hung at their waists, chatting and laughing.

Trembling, Su Zhen crawled up, her blurred view of the world gradually clearing.

In the open space ahead lay a large pile of feathers, every single one exhibiting a gradient of gold and green, reflecting a wave-like luster under the firelight.

She was exceedingly familiar with this color.

Over hundreds of nights, amidst flickering candlelight, howling winds outside the window, and the dim, shabby bedroom, the three huddled furry balls possessed bodies that shimmered with this exact hue.

When those feathers were on them, they had been even brighter and more magnificent, resembling morning glow reflected upon spring leaves, brimming with vigorous vitality.

A young man grasped several feathers, clicking his tongue in wonder: "This azure-feathered sky-skylark is truly beautiful..."

As he spoke, he turned his head to look at the young fisherman collapsed on the ground, then toward the corpses scattered beside the campfire. "...It's just a pity their tempers were a bit too unruly."

Su Zhen turned her face away to look at the three bodies, stripped of their feathers and gutted down the chest and abdomen, lying rigidly on the grass. Their claws had been severed and their eyeballs gouged out, leaving only horrifying hollows.

Beside them lay bloodied internal organs, staining a vast patch of red upon the earth.

At that instant, she felt a bone-chilling cold, as if her blood had stopped flowing.

Another person picked up one of the corpses and impaled it on a long iron skewer. "Roast and eat this, and it should taste pretty good."

Screaming, Su Zhen lunged forward.

A flash of cold light, and a sharp blade mercilessly severed her hands and feet.

"...We only left you alive to find the corpse of that great demon."

The man sneered as he watched the teenager screaming in a pool of blood. "We are not those hypocritical righteous cultivators; even if we turn you into a human stump, we can still get our answers."

Pain.

Inconceivable pain.

Even after lingering with this sickly body for so long, Su Zhen could not describe this agony.

The anguish of both physical body and spirit intertwined—

She looked toward those glittering, cold blades and found her reflection upon them.

Those eyes reflected the raging, burning fire, yet within them lay utter darkness and despair. The light that once dwelt there had completely extinguished, turning into an endless, hollow abyss.

"Stop wasting time," someone said while hoisting a corpse onto the fire. "Hurry up and find it."

Two cultivators walked over, rolling black-and-purple miasma billowing from their sleeves. Demon God covenant seals surfaced on the backs of their hands, while foul miasma spread across a radius of tens of feet, enveloping everyone within.

Trembling in agony, Su Zhen felt the foul miasma continuously pierce her nose and mouth, making her feel as though her entire body was rotting away.

—Kill them, kill them, kill them, kill them!

Her mind went blank, with only this single thought echoing endlessly. A fierce killing intent ignited within her chest, burning her entire body like a wild fire.

She forgot all the bizarre incongruencies, and she forgot the pitiful village boy and the three little birds.

She remembered only one thing.

The foul miasma suddenly shattered as clawing vines stretched forth, piercing the cultivators' bodies, tearing off their heads and limbs, and scattering internal organs across the ground.

Blood splattered through the forest, converging into streams that flowed in all directions, thoroughly staining the grass and those brilliant golden feathers crimson.

"..."

Su Zhen snapped her eyes open.

Her divine sense returned to her physical body. Sitting beside the pool, she stared blankly at the calm, unrippled surface of the water.

Covenant seals.

The covenant seals on those demonic cultivators!

In her past life, she had seen that pattern in the secret treasury; the seal belonged to the believers of the Devouring Demon God.

And that Demon God had been devoured by the Radiant Demon God four thousand years ago, causing most of its believers to perish as a result.