Love Travels through Time (My father who traveled through time and space to cultivate immortality came back to pick me up) - Chapter 63
Chapter 63: Bian City
Han Qi thought that if this were truly the case, then the Emperor must have already taken action.
In keeping with his past style, the Emperor preferred playing mind games with lions and using brute force against foxes.
Han Qi pictured that girl with the stubborn glint in her eyes yet a somewhat lonely silhouette.
For a moment, he could not distinguish whether she was a person blessed with immense fortune or cursed with endless disaster.
“Master,” Star Slave came forward to greet him.
“Word just arrived that the third young master of the Meng family has returned as well.”
“Mm,” Han Qi nodded.
“Apart from Meng the Third, whom the Emperor takes a liking to, the rest of the Meng family is in for trouble. Everything they did in the lower realm was caught red-handed by the Emperor.”
Star Slave’s eyes widened.
“The Emperor went to the lower realm? But surely it won’t go that far; after all, the Meng family…”
“Originally it wouldn’t have gone that far, but unfortunately, the Meng family crossed the wrong person this time.”
Han Qi did not return to his palace, turning around to head out once more.
“Master, where are you going?”
“The Meng family.”
—
Meanwhile, at the Meng family estate.
Meng Nanting knelt in the main hall.
Having been separated from his body for so many years, his soul was severely damaged and trembled uncontrollably.
While stabilizing his soul, the family head Meng Yingzhou found it completely incomprehensible.
“You planned for so many years, why did you stop when you were just one step away…”
“Father, I had no choice but to stop—it was the Emperor’s order.”
Meng Nanting had appeared calm on the surface at the time, but he had been scared to death.
“The Emperor commanded me to give up fusing with the Lesser Jianmu fruit body, and warned our Meng family to stay in line and stop stirring up trouble.”
“The Emperor?”
Meng Yingzhou froze for a moment, shocked.
“Are you certain?”
Meng Nanting nodded with absolute certainty.
“Without a shadow of a doubt, it was the Emperor.”
In appearance, the Celestial Clan was identical to the Human Clan; the difference lay in their long lifespans and inherently powerful “Inspiration.”
The power that humans had to cultivate endlessly to acquire was born into the Celestial Clan, relying entirely on this Inspiration.
This “Inspiration” was like the “Lineage” of the Shanhai Clan, categorized into higher and lower ranks, passed down through bloodline and soul force.
The “Inspiration” of the Emperor’s line was the highest grade among the Celestial Clan, exerting absolute suppression over all Celestial people.
Back in the Lu family courtyard, two of Meng Nanting’s trusted confidants had been lying in wait.
One of them was suddenly struck by a surge of powerful Inspiration, unable to endure it and passing out on the spot.
When the other person saw this state of affairs, he knew it was a message delivered via Inspiration.
Receiving the message using a specially crafted jade talisman, he didn’t even dare to examine it, taking it straight to Meng Nanting instead.
The moment Meng Nanting opened it, even with his Meng family’s upper-third-tier Inspiration, he was struck so hard he grew dizzy and faint.
“If not the Emperor, who else could it be?”
—
Emerging from the tunnel constructed of spider lily flowers, Xiang Haikui stepped into a mountain valley.
It felt as if a filter had been applied to the entire world—hazy, dim, and a murky crimson.
The world was choked with heavy turbid energy, making it impossible for ordinary mortals to breathe.
But during the teleportation, her boss had fed her a spirit pill, and now, relying on the pill for “oxygen,” she felt no discomfort whatsoever.
However…
Where was the boss?
Xiang Haikui watched the tunnel close in surprise, looking around everywhere.
“Senior?”
Calling out for a long time without seeing any sign of Yin Changli, she was reminded of her past experiences being set up by him during training—vanishing out of nowhere just like this, leaving her stranded in an unfamiliar environment.
Xiang Haikui cursed inwardly, then turned to Jing Ran beside her with an apologetic look.
“I offended him earlier, and he’s just the kind of person who…”
“Let’s go.”
Jing Ran didn’t take up her point, walking northward along the valley path.
“This is outside the front gate of the Bian City. He should be at the side gate or back gate. As long as we enter the city, we’ll run into him eventually.”
Xiang Haikui stepped forward to follow.
“How do you know that? Are there books about the Netherworld inside Han Qi’s treasury space?”
Xiang Haikui had seen it at the time—that treasury space was practically a massive library.
Having spent ten years inside, her senior brother had essentially emerged like a post-doctoral graduate coming down from the mountain.
She didn’t expect Jing Ran to answer anyway.
Upon arriving at a strange place, one always ought to observe the environment first.
The valley seemed to have a layer of skin beneath which flowing, bright red blood could be seen—likely lava or something similar.
Yet treading upon it didn’t feel scorching hot to her feet.
Walking further ahead, a river appeared, twisting through nine bends and eighteen turns. Because it was long enough, the curvature didn’t look particularly obvious.
In the valley lands along both banks of the river, clusters of flowers bloomed in full force; those on the left were white, while those on the right were black.
Following Jing Ran along the left side, Xiang Haikui took a closer look and realized that those were not flowers at all, but insects resembling dragonflies.
Floating along the river were numerous lotus lanterns, reminiscent of the river lanterns floating during traditional festivals in ancient China.
The lotus lanterns emitted a gentle glow, wrapping a cluster of mist inside their light.
Jing Ran: “Those are withered souls.”
The lotus lanterns drifted with the current, sitting at varying depths in the water, with some visibly riding much heavier.
Xiang Haikui was curious: “The weight of souls varies?”
She stopped by the riverbank, sizing up the lotus lanterns.
Jing Ran stopped as well, standing shoulder to shoulder with her by the river: “With different species, they are naturally different.”
“What about those dragonflies?” Xiang Haikui saw the dragonflies on both banks leave their branches, flying out over the water to perch on the lotus lanterns.
Jing Ran looked in the direction of her finger.
“Those are not dragonflies; they are White Immortal Spirits and Black Immortal Spirits.”
Xiang Haikui listened attentively like a student in a top scholar’s lecture.
Jing Ran said, “Immortal Spirits can perceive the aura within a soul. If a soul was plagued by deep resentment in life, it emits an aura similar to decaying flesh, which is the favored food of the Black Immortal Spirits, attracting them to gnaw upon it.”
Haikui took a sharp breath: “Does the soul feel pain then?”
Jing Ran nodded: “It is excruciatingly painful.”
Xiang Haikui said, “This river, if placed in the myths and legends of our world, would be the Forgotten River, wouldn’t it?”
Jing Ran gave a soft “Mm”: “Pretty much.”
Xiang Haikui thought to herself that coming from the same world made communication so much easier.
“If the resentment within the soul has been completely devoured by the time it reaches the Bian City, it will gain an opportunity for reincarnation.”
“Then what about the White Immortal Spirits?”
“The opposite of the Black Immortal Spirits. They prefer the power of karmic merit and devotion. After feeding, the White Immortal Spirits return their own blessings as a reward. Upon entering the Bian City, the soul enters the Bliss Palace, enjoying no small amount of good fortune in its next life.”
As Jing Ran spoke up to this point, Xiang Haikui watched in surprise as a White Immortal Spirit actually assumed a human form, slowly leaning down to kiss the lotus lantern it had perched upon.
“What’s going on here?”
Jing Ran looked over: “In the phrasing of our hometown, this is a lucky person kissed by an angel.”
Glancing at Xiang Haikui’s expression, he asked, “Is Student Xiang envious?”
Xiang Haikui sighed with emotion: “Looks like I must not have been a good person in my past life—I probably poked a Black Immortal Spirit’s nest!”
Jing Ran cast a side glance at the Tian Kuang Sword inside the box on her back: “In just ten short years, Student Xiang has already reached the Eighth grade, and the people around you are at the absolute pinnacle of this era. Regardless of how things were before, after Yin Changli altered your fate, you are definitively a person of immense fortune.”
“Is the strength of fortune measured solely by cultivation rank?”
Xiang Haikui shook her head miserably without explaining further.
In any case, only she knew her own struggles; if she told others, they would only think she was being overly dramatic.
Just as she was feeling down, the man beside her suddenly handed her a… lollipop?
A handcrafted candy, wrapped in colorful cartoon wrapper paper.
Xiang Haikui was slightly taken aback: “Could this be brought from home?”
“Mm, I made it myself. I had two in my jacket pocket at the time and brought them over together. I sealed them with spiritual energy as souvenirs.”
Jing Ran unsealed it.
“So it’s still within its shelf life—feel free to eat it.”
Xiang Haikui’s eyes lit up. She quickly took it, peeled off the wrapper, and popped it into her mouth.
Turning her head, she saw him slowly peeling one for himself as well.
With long hair fluttering, draped in wide-sleeved black robes, standing by the Forgotten River eating a lollipop…
Xiang Haikui felt the scene was surreal—utterly surreal.
Yet this long-absent lollipop was truly sweet, soaking straight into the bone and sweetening her heart.
All the pressure from this recent period seemed to melt away along with the lollipop.
Xiang Haikui let out an “Ah!” of high spirits and continued walking forward along the river.
She had initially worried whether monsters or Underworld guards might suddenly pop up around them, but none appeared.
“And when you said ‘pinnacle figures,’ Senior Brother, were you referring to Yin Changli and Han Qi? You’re overestimating them way too much.”
Once her mood brightened, her mouth started running non-stop.
“Those two argue so fiercely, spouting all kinds of grand philosophy. But really, they’re nothing more than debating whether a primitive society, a slave society, or a feudal society is better.”
“And they even asked for my critique? We’re successors of socialism—who would want to critique their backward systems?”
“If you ask me, whether it’s Yin Changli or Han Qi, they’re both absolute dumbasses.”
She failed to notice Jing Ran’s lips curving slightly behind her.
“Oh right, and that Celestial Emperor,” Xiang Haikui suddenly recalled.
“Almost forgot about him. He’s a dumbass too—the top fighter jet among dumbasses.”
Jing Ran’s smile froze slightly.
Xiang Haikui vented all the rage she had built up over the past few days using plain, easy-to-understand slang from home.
Suddenly, Jing Ran’s hand reached over from behind, placing itself horizontally right in front of her forehead.
Xiang Haikui froze, only then noticing a wall ahead.
It resembled a curtain of water, emitting no detectable aura; without looking closely, one truly couldn’t make it out.
Stepping around her, Jing Ran passed through the wall.
“Come.”
Xiang Haikui quickly passed through the spot where he had walked, feeling somewhat puzzled as to why he seemed so familiar with the Underworld.
Could one wander the Underworld in a dream through Han Qi’s books?
However, upon crossing the wall, Xiang Haikui’s thoughts were completely captured by the sight before her.
Just as rivers eventually merge into the ocean, countless Forgotten Rivers reached their end, converging into a vast, boundless sea.
Much like the oceans in the mortal realm, waves surged up and down in grand, magnificent sweeps.
Above, there was neither star nor moon; the surface of the sea was covered with glowing little insects, as if draped with a layer of starlight.
After floating in, the lotus lanterns began bobbing up and down in the sea.
“Is the Bian city across the sea?” Xiang Haikui gazed out into the distance; the water stretched as far as the eye could see.
“It’s over there.”
The lollipop was finished, and Jing Ran wiped his hands, pointing toward the middle of the sea.
“Where?”
Xiang Haikui looked closely.
In the distant waters, a massive spider lily suddenly rose up.
Countless octopus-tentacle-like petals swayed and unfurled, holding up clusters of splendid, towering palaces, brightly illuminated with lights.
Before Xiang Haikui could finish being amazed, another giant spider lily rose from beneath the sea.
One after another, in just a short moment, swaying petals filled her entire field of vision.
In this world of eternal night, they converged into a… city that never sleeps!
Was this the workplace where her boss had stayed for thousands of years in the past?
This was way too gorgeous!
She really hadn’t arrived at a good time, having only ever stayed inside the Little Black Orb with him.
While she was sighing with emotion, she heard Jing Ran say calmly.
“Student Xiang, do you know? Back in our hometown, no matter what I studied, I picked it up very quickly. Back in elementary school, I had already finished the entire middle and high school curriculum.”
“I then went to learn Sanda, combat fighting, Taekwondo, and the like. After a week of training, I could knock the instructor flat on his back. A life like that was truly… bland and utterly boring.”
Xiang Haikui: …
This was a critical hit from a top scholar.
Yet Xiang Haikui could testify that he was telling the truth—he rarely studied in class, and his desk was filled with manga books.
Facing the ocean and feeling the sea breeze, Jing Ran’s voice acquired a touch of gentleness.
“My family background was pretty good, and my parents were beyond reproach. Yet for some reason, I always felt a lack of reality, as if… I was living in a dream.”
“I remember after watching The Truman Show, I once fell into deep self-doubt.”
Xiang Haikui rubbed the lollipop stick, thinking to herself: Is this the affliction of a genius?
Xiang Haikui turned her head to observe his sharply contoured profile.
Her senior brother had thick eyebrows, phoenix eyes, and deep-set facial features. Cold and hard, he wasn’t actually her type.
Draped in black all year round, his cool face was practically stamped with: I’m not to be messed with, I’m annoyed, don’t bother me.
Back in high school, there were far too many girls across various classes harboring secret crushes on him, but Xiang Haikui had paid him no mind.
She had no time to kiss up to someone like that.
Yet on that rainy night when he stepped in to save her and pulled her up with the tip of his umbrella, Xiang Haikui realized he wasn’t arrogant—he just had a naturally cold face.
When they arrived in this world ten years ago, her father’s evaluation of Jing Ran had not been good.
He believed Jing Ran was overly cold-blooded, seemingly devoid of affection for his parents. Yet Xiang Haikui had made countless excuses for him in her heart.
In short, in Xiang Haikui’s heart, her senior brother might be aloof, but he possessed a sense of justice at his core and held a gentle side deep within.
A person like that could not be unfeeling or ungrateful.
She asked, “So did you ever find the reason?”
“I did.”
Jing Ran looked toward the brightly lit Bian city ahead.
“After your father brought me to this world, I found some sense of reality.”
Xiang Heng believed that any mortal brought to a cultivation world would desire to cultivate in pursuit of longevity.
Yet Jing Ran knew he was not like that. He held no interest in longevity—he simply had no desire to return.
“I was locked in the treasury space by Han Qi and stayed there for ten years, until you took a soul-sealing dagger and stabbed me in the spine.”
Jing Ran pointed behind his back.
Xiang Haikui explained, “I did that to control Han Qi…”
Jing Ran: “I know, but that single stab of yours sealed Han Qi’s soul and unlocked mine.”
Xiang Haikui didn’t understand: “Huh?”
Jing Ran: “You made me remember that I originally belonged to this world, having reincarnated to Earth to undergo a mortal tribulation. Student Xiang, your coming here is leaving home behind, whereas I am returning to my native land. I… have come home.”
Xiang Haikui’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
Yet it didn’t seem all that hard to accept after all—her senior brother had always been far too brilliant to be an ordinary person.
Xiang Haikui asked tentatively, “Since it was a mortal tribulation, Senior Brother must have been a figure of great renown in the past?”
“I was,” Jing Ran nodded without a trace of modesty. “You haven’t met me before, but you’ve heard my name.”
Xiang Haikui guessed, “Could you be one of the other two Sword Venerable?”
Jing Ran shook his head.
Just as Xiang Haikui was about to guess again, she suddenly saw countless lotus lanterns rising from the surface of the sea before them.
These were not the lotus lanterns carrying souls from earlier—they were golden lotuses.
The golden lotuses paved a path leading straight to the Bian City up ahead.
Xiang Haikui then caught sight of people stepping out from the various towering structures in the distance, among whom was Luo Yunxiu, whom she recognized.
Luo Yunxiu was clearly taken aback upon seeing her.
Xiang Haikui had long since noticed something amiss, yet she didn’t take a single step to run away.
After the golden lotuses appeared, her Tian Kuang Sword suddenly began throbbing wildly, its mad intent surging continuously.
She couldn’t bear to run, nor could she escape anyway.
She watched as the crowd flew over to greet them, bowing low to offer their respects: “We, your humble servants, pay our respects to the Emperor.”
Xiang Haikui looked at Jing Ran: “Senior Brother, are you the current Underworld Lord?”
“She is,” Jing Ran pointed at the valiant woman walking toward them across the golden lotuses, then tilted his head back to gaze up at the sky.
“As for me, I am one of the three dumbasses you mentioned.”
