When Sheng Rufei left, he shaved off many of his demon bones. It was not that he took nothing at all; he took the red bean cakes Lin Shijin had made.
The note had also been left by Sheng Rufei. Having decided to leave him, he had no intention of letting himself be found.
Lin Shijin searched for an entire month. He found no trace of him, nor did he hear any news of Sheng Rufei anywhere.
“There is no need to deliberately search for him,” Lin Fuheng said from the side. “Several cities of the Three Thousand Worlds have already been destroyed, and the mortal realm is in ruins. You ought to go where you are meant to go.”
Lin Shijin packed his belongings in the courtyard. The jade lock hung at his neck, and at this moment he understood that Shouque had already chosen a path for him.
It was guiding him there.
He gathered all of Sheng Rufei’s belongings. A month had passed, and he had grown thinner, his frame even more slight, though he had grown a little taller. The red thread around his wrist remained.
That meant Sheng Rufei was still alive, only that he could not find him.
Lin Shijin gripped the Yinbing Sword. The sword was with him, yet when he questioned it, it gave no reply.
It had only left him with one sentence: its master was still alive. Nothing more. That single sentence was enough.
Lin Shijin’s fingers tightened slightly as he put the Yinbing Sword away. The city was already at the end of its strength. Black mist covered half the sky outside. In merely one month, it had turned into a purgatory.
The trees in the courtyard were withered. Lin Shijin left with his sword on his back. As he stepped out of the courtyard, a flash of crimson entered his peripheral vision.
It was Feng Qing.
Feng Qing had come several times before, each time asking him to visit Feng Rugao. Feng Rugao was now gravely ill, his soul dissipating.
Lin Shijin paused slightly. He had not spoken for a month, and when he did, his voice was hoarse. His eyelids slowly lifted, his gaze falling into the empty space before Feng Qing, hollow and distant.
“I will not go.”
“This time, I am not here to take you to see the Sword Master,” Feng Qing said. A thin slip of paper rested in his palm. After a long silence, he continued, “The Sword Master knows you are leaving. He asked me to deliver this.”
“It is Sheng Sixteen’s fate.”
Lin Shijin was somewhat surprised, but he accepted it.
“The Sword Master… he…” Feng Qing hesitated, seeing the blankness in Lin Shijin’s eyes, finding it difficult to continue. The person who had once been so lively now seemed entirely changed.
“I hope you can return safely.”
His voice was soft. In the end, he said only this. Now that the evil curse had eroded the Three Thousand Worlds, if anyone could stop Shouque, it would likely be the person before him.
“Thank you,” Lin Shijin replied politely, carefully placing the fate paper into his robes.
“And…” Feng Qing spoke again, watching his figure recede into the distance, “the Sword Master has never regretted bringing you back.”
Lin Shijin’s steps faltered slightly, but he did not turn around. His fingers tightened faintly as his figure gradually disappeared from sight.
As for the hidden land of the demon race, Lin Shijin did not know its location. Yet Shouque was guiding him there, so he scarcely needed to search. Along the way, black mist continuously surrounded him.
The true destination lay beyond the fifty cities of the Three Thousand Worlds, at the boundary of the mortal realm, a place that a thousand years ago had been torn open by an endless abyss.
Clouds and moonlight at the horizon were obscured by black mist. The boundary was divided by statues of demon immortals, splitting the land entirely. One side resembled a furnace of blazing fire, demonic energy surging into the sky, the horizon stained a deep crimson.
A scorching wave of heat struck him. Lin Shijin stepped forward. Qiushui Sword was slung across his back. Though he could not see, he could sense every fluctuation of spiritual energy.
The air was thick with the stench of blood. It felt as though he had stepped into molten fire, surrounded by the wails of countless vengeful spirits.
At the far end of the flames stood a vague figure.
Shouque stood tall, crimson earrings faintly visible, watching as the youth stepped alone into the infernal sea of fire.
“Xiao Jin, do you still not remember me?”
A gentle voice reached Lin Shijin’s ears. He stood still and did not reply. Those he could forget were, by nature, unimportant.
He only remembered the young prince. He only remembered Sheng Rufei.
The Qiushui Sword was drawn. Its blade swept out a chilling wind, extinguishing part of the surrounding flames.
“I do not remember,” Lin Shijin said. Hearing the familiar voice, he understood something.
“The person in the illusion array that day, was it you?”
Shouque’s gaze fell upon him, a ripple stirring within his calm eyes.
“That was my clone’s longing for you, not me.”
“If it had been me, I would never have shown you such mercy.”
That clone referred to Jun Yewu.
Lin Shijin did not care much for this answer. He drew his sword. Sword light condensed, and countless vengeful spirits fell prostrate at his feet. The blade pointed directly at Shouque’s heart.
“You are right. Your clones are merely clones. They are not you.”
In Lin Shijin’s eyes, they were entirely different. At least in Xue Ning and Cui Haoxue, he had seen traces of humanity.
With a resounding crash, he struck. Two terrifying forces collided, shaking the ground. Sword light illuminated half the sky, and the screams of countless vengeful spirits ceased beneath it. The light faded, and Shouque’s form was split in two, scattering like dust into the air.
A wave of heat surged across his body. The sword light forced the flames back. Lin Shijin concentrated, sensing Shouque’s presence. The Qiushui Sword emitted dense, oppressive demonic energy.
“For a thousand years, you have not changed.”
Shouque stood at the edge of the fire, his voice carrying an indistinct meaning. His gaze stretched into the distance, where ruined cities stood in desolation.
“You ought to remember everything.”
A faint murmur reached Lin Shijin’s ears. Before his sword could fall, white light surged before him. A blade nearly pierced him from behind. He narrowly avoided it, retreating into the white light.
“You wish to kill me. You are no match for me. You do not even remember me. The sacred artefact can send you back a thousand years. You will relive everything.”
“But do you truly believe that returning will allow you to change anything?”
Shouque’s voice echoed softly. Lin Shijin was drawn into the white light, a powerful force pulling him as though he were falling from a great height. In that instant, it felt as though his sight returned.
He met a vaguely familiar face. Shouque looked down at him, his eyes cold.
Silence fell. In that moment, Lin Shijin understood something.
“Fuheng… why does he want me to go back?”
“You think this is a good thing? It is the worst possible outcome,” Lin Fuheng said. “The sacred artefact is now in his hands. The chance of escaping the past was already nearly zero. Now that you have fallen into his grasp, you will be completely controlled.”
“Remember, his true form is also inside. Find him. You must kill him.”
The rest faded from his hearing. Before he lost consciousness, Lin Shijin thought it impossible.
Sheng Rufei was waiting for him. He would certainly find a way to break the curse and return.
…
Beyond the Three Thousand Worlds lay Gusu City.
At present, the Immortal Path had not yet reached its height. Very few had broken through the Nine Heavens Realm. The only genius in the mortal world to do so was General Lin Fuheng of Gusu City.
Gusu lay beyond the Three Thousand Worlds and had not yet adopted the system of divided cities. It still followed the structure of an ancient kingdom, ruled by the imperial family.
Since Lin Fuheng’s ascension, his reputation had spread widely. Spiritual stones, treasures, rare swords, and exotic beasts were sent as tribute. All factions sought to befriend him.
Aside from gifts, the most frequently sent offerings were people.
At that moment, in the General’s residence:
Lin Shijin knelt in the main hall, somewhat dazed. The surroundings were entirely unfamiliar. The hall was austere, and one could tell from it that its owner had a cold and forceful temperament.
He did not know why he was here. Guards stood beside him. He looked down at his fingertips, unable to remember anything.
He felt as though he had forgotten something extremely important. He touched the jade lock at his chest. It gave him a sense of reassurance.
The guards wore black robes embroidered with long swords. The atmosphere in the hall was heavy. Kneeling felt uncomfortable, and his clothing seemed different from theirs.
“Um…”
Just as Lin Shijin was about to speak, footsteps approached. A slightly sombre young man’s voice followed.
“Did I not say there is no need to send people to the General’s residence again? Which family sent this one?”
A guard replied, “General, this one was not sent. It is said he fell from the sky. He was discovered by His Highness’s attendant.”
“What does it have to do with us if someone falls from the sky? Why would His Highness send him here?”
Lin Shijin thought the voice sounded pleasant, though somewhat familiar. The voice stopped abruptly as their gazes met.
The young man’s features were striking, refined like a painting. Though his appearance leaned towards delicate beauty, years of martial training lent him a fierce edge, suppressing any softness. He wore a black brocade robe, his posture tall and imposing. Judging by his face alone, disregarding his aura, he was almost identical to Lin Shijin.
Lin Shijin froze, as though looking into a mirror. Yet the other was clearly different, taller, more intimidating, with a far stronger presence.
“What new trick is this?” Lin Fuheng laughed, though the smile did not reach his eyes. He stepped forward and pinched Lin Shijin’s cheek.
“This general once said he favoured his own type. So they send something like this?”
Lin Shijin felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity at the sight of him and forgot to struggle for a moment. His cheek hurt slightly as the other examined his face, as though searching for something.
“Not a human skin mask?” Lin Fuheng drawled. “It seems they have put in quite some effort. Even arranging for His Highness to deliver him personally.”
“What are you doing?” Lin Shijin winced. He had no idea what was happening. The man who looked exactly like him spoke at length, yet he could not follow.
He grasped the other’s wrist. “Let go. It hurts.”
Though they looked the same, their voices were entirely different. Lin Shijin’s voice was soft and gentle, his gaze clear, like a feather brushing against the heart.
Lin Fuheng’s expression turned slightly odd. He pinched the youth’s cheek again, leaving half of it red. The youth glared at him, displeased.
“Who sent you?”
Lin Shijin was bewildered. He wanted to know the same. He had heard that he had fallen from the sky.
Lost in thought, he did not answer. The jade lock at his chest was suddenly tugged, revealing two small carved characters: “Ru Fei”.
The moment it was touched, his heart tightened. He instinctively reached to take it back.
“Give it back.”
“Ru Fei?” Lin Fuheng easily avoided him, raising an eyebrow. “This is the first time I have seen such a foolish spy.”
“Take him to Murong Fei. Tell the young prince that the General’s residence has no need for such an idiot.”
