Chapter 29

Tanyin had been doing her utmost to release the divine power sealed by the divine crystal. Although the divine crystal was only the size of a sesame seed, she had swallowed it without any defenses, which was even more serious than being encased in a divine crystal.

The person who could come up with such a clever killing move was certainly not a war ghost or a member of the Fox Clan. In fact, she knew very well who had done this. She had to once again admit that she did not understand the complexity of human hearts.

In her memories, Han Nu was always a gentle, sister-like figure. When Taihe fell into a deep sleep, it was she who wept every day. And now, it was also she who released the divine power to incite the war ghost and the Fox Clan to hunt down Yuan Zhong. Moreover, it was she who thought of putting the tiny divine crystal in tea for her to drink.

Perhaps the sisterly Han Nu was never her true self. Tan Yin had no idea what kind of person the real Han Nu was.

This was not the time or place to dwell on such thoughts. The barrier around the small building was broken, and the death gate was nearly summoned completely. It seemed like there was no time left.

Tanyin said nothing as she curled up in little Yuan Zhong’s arms, focusing on gathering divine power. She could hear the sound of whips striking Yuan Zhong, and the fragrant blood splattered on her face—feeling like a burn.

He would die.

She dared not move; she had to concentrate on gathering divine power, or he would really die. But how could she focus? Little Yuan Zhong had been mistakenly identified and had had his left arm chopped off. She knew Yuan Zhong would be next.

Don’t panic; don’t rush; gather the divine power.

The blade flashed.

Tanyin, with a surge of brute strength from somewhere, took out the last piece of golden nanmu wood from her Qiankun bag and carved out a wooden puppet. She lunged forward, tightly embracing Yuan Zhong, whose body was engulfed in the fire of the curse.

Her divine power had not yet recovered, and she couldn’t release her divine consciousness. She could only hold him tightly, using her body to shield him from the war ghosts. The fire on him burned her painfully. She looked down at him. He had fainted, with a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth, and his breathing was weak.

She had never had such a persistent thought in her life: she must not let him die.

It wasn’t for Taihe or the left hand.

Ji Tanyin wouldn’t let Yuan Zhong die. She couldn’t say why, nor did she think about why. This sudden but long-hidden obsession was more intense than her restless wandering in the mortal world. She even felt that because of this obsession, her divine consciousness was burning with pain—it might also be the pain from the curse fire on him; she couldn’t distinguish anymore.

The wooden puppet was incomplete. Without her divine power, it couldn’t do anything and was quickly dismantled by the war ghosts. Several whips mercilessly struck her. She clearly heard the sound of her bones breaking again. She held him tightly with her unbroken hands, not letting go.

Blood spread all over the ground. Little Yuan Zhong’s terrified voice grew faint, so faint that she could no longer hear it. Only her own breathing echoed in her ears, long and deep.

A hand, burning with fierce fire, touched her cheek. Tanyin opened her eyes and met Yuan Zhong’s beautiful eyes. He had woken up and seemed very angry. His dark, round eyes reflected her blood-streaked face, turning her into a bloodied figure.

He seemed to be speaking. His lips moved, and his body moved, trying to push her away.

No, he couldn’t go out.

She stubbornly held on, refusing to let go. If he went out, he would die. She wouldn’t let him die. No one could take him away.

Suddenly, her body felt heavy. She felt that this body could no longer merge with her divine consciousness, which was gradually collapsing. The divine crystal she had swallowed was also losing its restraining effect.

Now!

Tanyin’s eyes shone brightly. Her divine consciousness struggled to break free from the crumbling body, leaping out from the top of her head.

No one could see her. The divine consciousness of a god was out of place in the mortal world, like that of a ghost. To make the immortals and spirits of the mortal world see her true form, she would either have to descend in her true body or release her divine nature. Of course, the worst method was to take over the body of a mortal—the method Han Nu must have used to communicate with Tang Hua and the war ghosts.

She turned around and saw the human body—blood and flesh blurred—collapse. Little Yuan Zhong was screaming annoyingly loudly and was immediately dismantled by the war ghosts’ whips. The whips then mercilessly struck Yuan Zhong again. Clearly, the war ghosts were determined to kill him today.

Tanyin felt a slight anger. With a sudden wave of her long sleeve, a ball of clear light surged from her palm. She gently scattered it, and it transformed into dozens of tiny, flame-like light clusters, each entering the foreheads of the war ghosts, Wan Qiu and Lan Xuan. They were immediately pushed out of the cave, disappearing in an instant, leaving only a bloody mess.

Suddenly, she remembered something and floated out of the small building. Across the lake, she saw a purple figure—Tang Hua. In front of him was a green wood table with a fire cauldron and a water cauldron. He held a lock of black hair tied with black thread, placing it in the fire cauldron. It must have been the medium for the curse.

Tanyin sent a clear light into Tang Hua’s forehead, pushing him out of the cave. She then gently blew a breath, turning the lock of black hair and everything on the green wood table into ashes.

All of this shouldn’t have happened. It was her negligence that allowed Han Nu to do such terrible things.

Tanyin looked back at the small building, and a faint sadness welled up in her heart. Given Yuan Zhong’s intelligence, he would soon figure out the reason behind today’s events. He would finally understand that her closeness, following, and protection were all for the sake of that left hand.

The war ghost’s repeated provocations and even the involvement of the Fox Clan were likely related to her following him.

Although Tanyin was not well-versed in human relationships, she was no fool. She had once believed that Han Nu’s deep affection for Taihe made her desperate to retrieve his left hand. But today’s events made her doubt Han Nu’s motives.

It seemed Han Nu only wanted to make her unhappy and cause her pain. She had incited the war ghosts and Tang Hua, turning this place into a bloodbath, not for Taihe’s sake at all.

Tanyin suddenly felt a bit afraid, unwilling to go back and afraid to see Yuan Zhong’s expression. She couldn’t understand why she felt guilty and anxious towards him. She recalled him secretly making mechanical mans in the room and pretending to ask if she liked him, as well as those short, silent moments they spent together.

Had she made another mistake?

Perhaps taking a mortal body to approach him openly was a mistake in itself. If she had only descended in her divine consciousness and silently protected him from the shadows, he would have avoided all the physical and emotional pain he endured.

The small room was a mess, with blood splattered everywhere. Little Yuan Zhong had been dismembered by the war ghost’s  whips, his eyes blinking comically, though he could no longer speak.

The earlier chaos had settled, leaving silence. Yuan Zhong didn’t move. He gently wiped the blood from her face with his sleeve, meticulously cleaning it as if he hadn’t noticed the sudden change in the cave.

After wiping the blood from her face, he slowly parted her blood-stained hair, revealing her pale but peaceful face.

He then cautiously placed his hand under her nose, realizing there was no breath. He didn’t give up, and he pressed his head against her shattered chest, finding no heartbeat.

He stayed like that for a long time, finally raising his head in confusion, looking around like a lost child, and murmuring, “Tanyin?”

Her body was there in front of him, but her soul had vanished.

Yuan Zhong’s eyes gradually cleared. He looked around in shock. The war ghosts were gone; Wan Qiu and Lan Xuan, who had fainted, were gone; and Tang Hua across the lake was also gone. The crack in the gate of life among the distant green mountains remained, and the old turtle poked its white head out of the lake, sighing as if it had escaped from danger.

Everything in the cave was as it had been before, except for the mess. Those who shouldn’t be there were gone, but so was Tanyin, leaving behind only a bloody corpse, just like last time at the imperial mausoleum. She had left him only a corpse, nothing more, no message or explanation.

Yuan Zhong suddenly stood up, hurriedly ran out, and shouted her name loudly, “Ji Tanyin?!”

There was no answer. He realized something and rushed back to the small building, gently lifting the bloody corpse and calling softly, “Tanyin?”

Still, there was no answer.

He fell silent.

Suddenly, a gentle breeze swept through, scattering the incense ashes from the censer, which landed on his chest. Yuan Zhong looked down in a daze at his bloodstained and ash-covered chest. Soon, more ashes were mischievously blown onto his back by the wind.

Is she here? Not here? Was it her?

Yuan Zhong opened his mouth, as if wanting to laugh, but his face suddenly turned pale. A stream of fresh blood gushed from the corner of his mouth, and he fell to the ground, unconscious and motionless.

Yuan Zhong seemed to be back on the Guixuan Platform, three cycles of sixty years ago, during his naive youth. He harbored a devout faith in the gods, waiting for their arrival.

On the high platform, everyone else was prostrate on the ground, while he alone stood, staring in a trance at the goddess who appeared on the stage.

He felt a wave of confusion, followed by clarity. The goddess, dressed in white with black hair, stood cold and serene under the moonlight. Gradually, however, her ethereal and beautiful face morphed into that of another person, with a pale complexion and bright red lips, often displaying a foolish expression, sometimes refined and sometimes dazed.

He watched in a daze as the goddess transformed into an ordinary mortal woman, with a Qiankun bag at her waist, walking towards him step by step, reaching out her hand.

Yuan Zhong instinctively reached out his hand. His slender, delicate hand was still that of a child, finally grasping hers. She smiled at him gently, holding his thin hand tightly in her palm.

“Do you… blame me?” she asked softly.

His heart suddenly felt drenched in boiling water. In an instant, countless images flashed before his eyes. The Guixuan Platform shattered like a glass painting, and his hand moved, gripping her soft yet slightly rough hand tightly in his palm.

“Blame you for what?” Yuan Zhong smiled.

“For coming for my left hand?”

Silly girl, do you like me? Had he ever asked such a foolish question? How many times had she secretly laughed at his nervousness and unease? How many times had she scorned his cautious and self-assured probing?

He looked up, his young eyes fixed on her cold eyes, and spoke softly, “If you want my left hand, I will cut it off for you immediately.”

She shook her head.

“Don’t do that.”

The boy’s eyes became fervent.

“Then say you like me.”

Let her mock him; let him remain foolish. His life’s hourglass had stopped because of her and started flowing again because of her. He was willing to give her everything.

She remained silent.

The boy’s eyes grew increasingly passionate.

“I know you like me, even if you won’t say it.”

He would never forget her body, reduced to a bloody mess with her bones turned to powder, still holding him tightly with unbroken hands. If this wasn’t love, then what did his three cycles of sixty years mean?

“Stay with me. Don’t go. You promised to be with me for a lifetime.”

He held her hand tightly, wishing he could merge it into his own palm.

“Don’t go.”

She seemed to smile and say something he couldn’t hear.

The blurry dreamscape receded like a whirlpool.

Yuan Zhong abruptly opened his eyes. He was still lying in the chaotic small room, the door slightly ajar, with rain and snow drifting in. It was already deep into the night.

He slowly sat up, bewildered to find that all his previous injuries had healed, and he felt better than ever.

Little Yuan Zhong’s shattered body still lay in the small room, with bloodstains all over, but her bloody, mutilated corpse was nowhere to be seen.

“Tanyin?” he called softly.

There was no answer, only the cold wind carrying tiny snowflakes into the small room.