In the midst of a chaotic and perilous world, those who narrowly escaped with their lives, after a brief respite, either remained silent or left behind words of comfort, before one by one departing from this gruesome and terrifying place. In such turbulent times, whose life is not precious, and who can truly control the fate of another? Every day and night, in every desolate and isolated spot, are not similar scenes of parting and death enacted?
Zhou Yixian and Xiaohuan also left that wretched place. The lair of the beast demons was so putrid and revolting; it was no place for living beings.
They managed to carry out the body of the Daoist Ye Gou, placing it on the clearing where they had first entered the forest.
The Daoist’s body was still faintly warm, but it slowly cooled as time passed.
Zhou Yixian, with a furrowed brow, sat to the side, shaking his head and sighing. Xiaohuan, meanwhile, knelt beside the body, weeping bitterly.
The night wind howled, causing the treetops to sway. From the shadows, a mysterious black-cloaked figure observed the scene. Though removing the two beast demons would have been a mere trifle for him, he remained cold and impassive, silently watching from the darkness. Now, his gaze lingered on Xiaohuan, then shifted to Zhou Yixian.
After a while, Zhou Yixian murmured, “Enough, Xiaohuan. He… he is already dead. We should find a place to bury him, to let him rest in peace.”
Xiaohuan shivered, her sobs growing louder. She suddenly looked up at Zhou Yixian and cried, “Grandpa, you know everything, don’t you? Can’t you think of a way to save him?”
Zhou Yixian laughed bitterly, “I am no lord of the netherworld, nor a celestial deity. How could I know such resurrection spells?”
Xiaohuan sobbed, “But he died saving us.”
Zhou Yixian sighed, his gaze moving to the face of the Daoist Ye Gou, and nodded, “To be honest, I misjudged him. I never thought someone like him would have such genuine feelings. Alas, it is too late now. Xiaohuan, listen to your grandfather. Let’s give him a proper burial.”
Xiaohuan remained silent, tears streaming down her face, each drop wetting the hand of the deceased Daoist.
From the shadows, the black-cloaked figure’s eyes flickered, but there was no trace of sorrow or pity. To him, human emotions were but a play, and he watched with cold detachment.
Zhou Yixian stood up, looking around, but in this desolate wilderness, where could he find suitable tools? After searching for a while, he only managed to pick up a wooden stick, using it to scrape the ground. Only a little dirt was moved, and digging a grave seemed an impossible task.
Could they not even provide a decent burial?
Zhou Yixian discarded the stick and sighed, a rare look of weariness on his face. As he turned back, he noticed Xiaohuan had stopped crying. She had found a stick and was cleaning around the body, sweeping away leaves and branches.
At first, Zhou Yixian thought Xiaohuan was merely trying to tidy the area, but as he watched, something seemed off. She cleared a circle about five feet in radius around the body, then walked back, her face less pained but more determined.
Zhou Yixian, noticing the change, stepped forward, “Xiaohuan, what are you doing?”
Xiaohuan whispered, “I want to save him!”
This statement startled Zhou Yixian, and even the black-cloaked figure in the shadows jolted, his eyes fixing on Xiaohuan. Zhou Yixian exclaimed, “What did you say?”
Xiaohuan’s voice was low but clear, “I want to save him!”
Zhou Yixian shook his head urgently, “Xiaohuan, I understand your intentions, but… No, what I mean is, how do you plan to save him?”
Xiaohuan straightened the body and made a peculiar gesture, one hand raised towards the sky and the other balled into a fist. She said, “He died saving us. I cannot just do nothing.”
Zhou Yixian’s frown deepened as he watched Xiaohuan straighten the Daoist’s legs, placing the right foot over the left. His face darkened, and he shouted, “Have you lost your mind, Xiaohuan? Do you intend to use the ‘Soul Retrieval Spell’?”
Xiaohuan paused, whispering, “Grandpa, this is all I know. Maybe, maybe it can save him?”
“Nonsense!” Zhou Yixian roared, “What are you talking about? The ‘Soul Retrieval Spell’ can gather souls, but it’s a forbidden, dangerous art. It’s risky and can disturb the spirits, violating the rules of the underworld. You risk your life! Besides, this spell is used on the living, not the dead. Once the breath is gone, the soul dissipates. Where will you find his soul, in the endless sea of ghosts in the netherworld?”
In the darkness, the gleam in the black-cloaked figure’s eyes intensified, as if he had seen something unbelievable.
Xiaohuan, her eyes red, cried, “Grandpa, he just died. His soul might still be nearby. If we wait, it’ll be too late.”
Zhou Yixian’s face paled, and he strode to Xiaohuan, pulling her up. He said, “Xiaohuan, stop this foolishness. I know what you’re thinking. You once saved Jinying’er’s nearly dissipated soul, but this is different. That spell is for the living and drains one’s life force. You already lost a year of your life helping Jinying’er. If you proceed, you might lose twenty years or more. Are you prepared for that?”
Zhou Yixian’s final words were almost shouted, and Xiaohuan was stunned. At her age, she feared death, but the thought of the Daoist Ye Gou lying there, and the consequences, made her feel suffocated.
The atmosphere grew tense. After a moment, Zhou Yixian softened his tone, “Xiaohuan, fate is determined by the heavens. It seems the heavens decreed his death today. Let’s give him a proper burial and honor him. Isn’t that enough?”
Xiaohuan’s expression fluctuated, a struggle visible on her face. Finally, she said, “Grandpa, his fate wasn’t determined by the heavens.”
Zhou Yixian’s heart sank, and he laughed dryly, “What do you mean?”
Xiaohuan took a deep breath, “His fate was his own. He chose to risk everything to save us. If he had turned away, he could have lived anywhere. He died for us, and without him, we would be dead. What is there to discuss about our life spans?”
She looked at Zhou Yixian, who averted his gaze. “Grandpa, I must save him. This spell, no matter how dangerous, can’t compare to the danger he faced to save us.”
Zhou Yixian saw her resolve and sighed. The black-cloaked figure, his eyes glowing, watched Xiaohuan intently.
In the dense woods, under the thick night, the air was heavy with gloom.
In the dim light, Xiaohuan began the eerie ritual.
The first drop of blood fell from a cut on Xiaohuan’s arm, dripping onto the ground beside the Daoist. Slowly, she moved, letting her blood form strange patterns on the ground.
In the thick forest, ghostly cries began to rise. Zhou Yixian, standing to the side, felt his muscles twitch. The black-cloaked figure, who had been watching, also frowned, as if he had seen this before.
The blood array Xiaohuan formed was reminiscent of the one the great shaman used to save Bìyáo in Húqí Mountain, but it was smaller and simpler. Despite this, Xiaohuan, weakened by the ritual, was barely able to complete it.
Zhou Yixian, wordlessly, supported Xiaohuan. She smiled weakly, then sat down at the top of the array, three feet from the Daoist’s head.
A ghostly howl echoed through the forest, and the entire woods filled with eerie sounds. The trees swayed, and countless cold, spectral eyes seemed to watch from the shadows.
Xiaohuan, her face solemn, closed her eyes, hands clasped to her chest, chanting a mystical incantation. Her hands opened, and she placed them in the blood pattern.
The blood around the Daoist’s body glowed, flowing with a newfound life. Xiaohuan’s pale face darkened, and a strange aura surrounded her.
The wind grew stronger, and the forest darkened, except for the glow from the array.
The blood, now vibrant, seemed to attract countless spirits.
Zhou Yixian, increasingly worried, knew the dangers of the Soul Retrieval Spell. Normal people shouldn’t try to steal souls from the netherworld. However, Xiaohuan’s limited range of influence meant it wouldn’t likely draw the attention of powerful guardians, which was fortunate.
But Xiaohuan, visibly struggling, showed signs of distress. The effort of this spell, unlike her previous attempt to save Jinying’er, was much more difficult. Without a strong soul to anchor, the challenge was immense.
The array drew many spirits, and Xiaohuan, her face almost entirely black, trembled. The souls, eager to reclaim their lives, crowded around her.
As Xiaohuan, her face contorted in pain, reached for the Daoist’s hand, the spirits erupted in fury. The black-cloaked figure, however, intervened, his presence causing the spirits to retreat. A red light enveloped Xiaohuan, and she finally managed to grip the Daoist’s hand.
As she touched him, a dark red light spread from his hand, lighting up his body. Moments later, the Daoist exhaled, a sign of life returning.
Overwhelmed, Xiaohuan fainted, her efforts finally complete.
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