Chapter 827: Karma Cannot Be Severed Carelessly

Chapter 827: Karmic Ties Cannot Be Carelessly Severed

The following morning broke clear and quiet.

The three souls remained in a deep slumber.

Had an outsider witnessed the scene upon the bed within the sea of consciousness, they likely would have found it thoroughly scandalous.

Bound back-to-back by chains, the two women were completely stripped of any conjured raiment, stark naked; the manner in which the iron links pressed against their skin accentuated their curves in a fashion anyone could grasp, rendering the sight profoundly illicit at a glance.

Zhao Changhe lay fast asleep, his head resting comfortably upon Piaomiao’s thigh, spared at least the greater indignity of pressing upon both women simultaneously. Yet even this simple reliance upon her lap suffused the air with an overwhelming sense of decadence.

Piaomiao was the first to rouse.

Instinctively attempting to move, she found herself constrained by the bonds, unable to break free, and a wave of speechless exasperation washed over her mind. For reasons unknown, she repeatedly found herself trapped in these compromising positions, each instance borne of absolute necessity, until she had nearly grown accustomed to it.

Beneath the exasperation, however, lay a faint trace of delight, for she could feel the unmistakable friction of her divine soul rubbing against Cui Yuanyang’s.

Previously, such a sensation did not exist; their beings had been intertwined too deeply, one within the other, and any movement yielded the same seamless blend. Now, with a casual turn, she could feel that what lay before her belonged entirely to another soul, distinct and clear.

By all analysis, there was a high probability they would share a twin-like resonance or telepathic bond hereafter—whether other peculiarities would manifest remained to be tested, but they were now, beyond any doubt, two entirely independent souls.

Piaomiao sensed the unfamiliar weight upon her leg, where Zhao Changhe slept soundly. The mark of sheer exhaustion was evident upon him; his soul-form was considerably fainter than usual, only now slowly restoring itself through this deep slumber.

He was fulfilling the promises he had uttered one by one, and the most arduous task among them—the severing of the divine soul—had been achieved. Before this, Piaomiao herself had deemed it impossible, yet he had seized the very opportunity of her demonic corruption to accomplish it in a single, unyielding effort.

In the past era, Piaomiao had been solitary, a spirit of heaven and earth devoid of hatred, love, or emotion, possessing no social ties worth mentioning. If she had any friend at all, perhaps only Ye Wuming barely qualified. For all others, she had always been the one rendering aid, the one bestowing gifts, never once knowing what it felt like to have someone to lean on.

Yet within these mere few days, that feeling had crashed over her so intensely, as if any matter under heaven could be resolved simply because he was there.

Recalling the ordeal of the previous night, her black soul-form nearly blushed crimson. What in the world had transpired... toward the end, her own voice had likely drowned out Yuanyang’s, rising in a sort of duet. It was simply incomprehensible how Zhao Changhe had maintained his lucidity and reason to perform the severing amidst such an atmosphere.

As her mind churned between black and crimson, Zhao Changhe showed signs of waking. Detecting it instantly, Piaomiao swiftly closed her eyes.

Zhao Changhe let out a soft laugh. "Hey, we are currently within the spiritual sea of consciousness as soul-forms. We don't perceive things with eyes at all. What are you doing?"

Piaomiao kept her eyes tightly shut. "None of your business. I simply like them closed."

Closed though they were, she could still clearly "see" Zhao Changhe roll over and push himself up, leaning in so close his face was mere inches from hers. "Do you have any idea how alluring it is to keep your eyes shut while bound like this? Are you trying to seduce me?"

Piaomiao snapped her eyes open in indignation. "Zhao Changhe, your wife is right beside us. What do you think you are doing?"

"Are you implying that if Yuanyang weren't here, I could do this?"

"You..." Piaomiao said angrily. "Last night was solely for the severing, nothing else occurred. Do not go imagining—"

"I haven't imagined anything. So, what is it that you think I am imagining?"

"...Undo my chains, and then get out!"

Zhao Changhe swept his gaze over her bound form, and without another word, recalled the chains and withdrew from the sea of consciousness.

Piaomiao was just wondering why he had suddenly ceased his teasing when she realized that, due to the binding, she had never conjured any clothes; her soul-form remained utterly naked.

Zhao Changhe's swift retreat was mostly likely born of this, fearing that if he looked any longer, he would lose his restraint and act in earnest.

In truth, a soul-form could perform no earnest physical acts. Spiritual communion was entirely different from bodily union; understood in common terms, it could even be considered a form of illusion, devoid of material substance. Piaomiao occasionally wondered if Zhao Changhe’s desire to fashion a physical vessel for her was precisely for the purpose of carrying out such deeds...

Forget it, now was not the time to ponder such things.

Piaomiao tested her current state and found she could still control Cui Yuanyang’s body. However, the nature of it had shifted, resembling a form of possession or taking over a vessel, not much different from invading any other body, save for the fact that this one was the most compatible. In theory, if Zhao Changhe were willing, she could even slip into his body...

She wondered if she could bestow all her strength upon him; if so, would he be able to contend with Ye Wuming?

As she fell into contemplation, Cui Yuanyang awoke.

With a soft swoosh, Piaomiao slipped out of the sea of consciousness and transformed into a plume of black mist, signifying her yielding of the vessel. Before Cui Yuanyang could even call out, she had already vanished.

***

Zhao Changhe and Cui Yuanyang sat cross-legged on the bed facing each other, their eyes fixed upon a small mass of black mist hovering between them.

The little black mist blinked its eyes, a faint crimson hue shimmering beneath the dark.

Cui Yuanyang extended a finger and poked it twice, finding it was not intangible but could actually be touched, which delighted her immensely. "Is this Sister’s divine soul, separated after a whole night of hard work? How adorable."

Zhao Changhe tucked his hands into his sleeves. "Perhaps it is."

She had clearly maintained a human shape within the sea of consciousness just moments ago, so why had she turned herself into something resembling Bo Xun now... and equally pitch-black to boot, symbolizing that she was still in a demonized state. Yet while Bo Xun was hideous and contorted, this form of Piaomiao lacked any features save for two large, blinking eyes. Paired with that shy tint of crimson, it looked almost criminally cute.

"Tell me about your current self-perception?" Zhao Changhe, failing to comprehend what Piaomiao was doing, turned to ask Cui Yuanyang first. "Is there anything amiss within your body, Yuanyang?"

Cui Yuanyang examined her state and rotated her arms, brimming with vitality. "No problems at all. My strength has actually increased by a lot, all cultivated by Sister over these past two months."

"What realm of cultivation?"

"I don't know what this cultivation is called. Could it be the Breakthrough Realm..."

Zhao Changhe was left speechless.

As expected, what was not practiced by oneself remained unlearned; there were actually people in this world who could not even comprehend their own level of power.

By all rights, she should have reached the Breakthrough Realm, given that the quality of her surrogate cultivator was simply too high. Furthermore, it was not just her body; her divine soul had been entangled with Piaomiao’s for so long that her soul power had been influenced and strengthened significantly. Had her previous self been assaulted by Piaomiao’s leaking demonic qi so many times, it would have resulted in far more than a mere fainting spell.

If it could be said that Cui Yuanyang had gained no benefits from this reincarnation previously, this time she had truly leaped straight into the heavens.

The little black mist spoke up. "I imparted a portion of my soul power to Yuanyang... though she might not care much for it, consider it my compensation."

The husband and wife turned their gazes upon her once more, both wearing expressions as if looking at a cute little creature.

Piaomiao said with strained composure, "Why are you looking at me like that? Speak of Yuanyang. She is indeed in the Breakthrough Realm now. In theory, she inherits the Qinghe Sword and commands the Noble Qi, but this girl doesn't even understand what she commands herself, so it can only be considered a pseudo-realm. She still needs to comprehend it on her own before it truly counts."

Throughout this lengthy explanation, the shameless couple before her treated her words entirely as wind past their ears. Cui Yuanyang asked, "Can you really exist outside the body now? Will there be any trouble..."

Piaomiao was driven to exasperation. "Are you even listening to me? This concerns your future path of cultivation!"

"Oh. If I continue cultivating, can I also turn into such a cute ball?"

"...You can."

"Ahem." Zhao Changhe coughed dryly. "At least half the reason for Yuanyang's cultivation is to become cute, so what she commands isn't all that vital."

Piaomiao went silent.

She understood. To manifest rabbit ears during a soul-transformation—there was no second person in the world so frivolous.

Zhao Changhe spoke up. "So let us speak of your matters instead. What Yuanyang asked just now is also what I wish to know."

Piaomiao replied, "As for existing outside the body, it is possible for a short duration. I can roughly remain apart for seven or eight days; if I am separated for too long, issues may arise."

"How far can you go?"

"As long as there is enough time to return, any distance is fine. I am a divine soul, not some ordinary yin spirit."

"Since you are a divine soul, by all rights you shouldn't be confined to this state of black mist... you weren't like this just moments ago..."

Piaomiao fell silent. Of course she could assume human form, but it would be wreathed in demonic qi, an utterly hideous sight. It was far better to remain like this; at least it possessed some semblance of charm.

Piaomiao herself did not know why she had suddenly come to care for beauty and ugliness, even though he had been willing to kiss her even in that unsightly state...

Seeing her drift into thought again, Zhao Changhe could only press on. "If any distance is fine, does that mean crossing realms is also possible? What about crossing time and space?"

Piaomiao asked in surprise, "Why do you ask this?"

Zhao Changhe fell into contemplation. "When you and I studied the Book of Causality previously, you attempted to alter cause and effect against the flow of time, and I stopped you... I wish to try once more with you..."

Piaomiao had not expected that upon waking, he would still be considering the resolution of her predicament; an indescribably peculiar feeling rose in her heart. "Did you not believe that cause and effect should not be recklessly altered? Moreover, if you intend to sever the karmic ties between myself and Ye Wuming, I refuse."

"Your actions that time were truly too grand, attempting to substitute yourself at the very dawn of creation; that would have caused causality to break its reins," Zhao Changhe said. "This time, I am only targeting the issue of your demonic corruption. Even if this interferes with causality, it will merely involve Bo Xun. As for you and Ye Wuming, you overthink things—where would I find the strength to interfere with your karmic ties at my current level..."

Piaomiao suddenly realized that Zhao Changhe sought to sever the demonic possession, not settle grudges; what must be cut was the cause of the possession, not the root of hatred. So the point they needed to trace back to was that moment two days ago before the Soul-Capturing Mirror—simple enough when you thought about it that way.

“Was it from studying Buddhist scriptures yesterday?”

“Mm… now that I’m separated from Yangyang, it’s more convenient; before, I was worried it might affect her. Plus, your help raised my cultivation a notch, giving me more confidence.”

“If you’ve recovered…” Piaomiao hesitated a moment. “Then… shall we try?”

Cui Yuanyang wanted to speak but held back; severing karma sounded perilous. She felt that although Piaomiao now seemed thick with demonic energy, a dark aura swirling around her, her behavior was already quite normal—why risk it?

Yet she also knew that Piaomiao could only hold herself together in front of Zhao Changhe; facing others, she might not control that ferocity. It had to be resolved. Otherwise, she’d throw tantrums daily, and the household would never be at peace.

So she obediently sat on the chair by the bed: “You two work on your cultivation; I’ll guard.”

Zhao Changhe ruffled her hair: “My Yangyang has really grown up now.”

Piaomiao pouted inwardly—you treat her like a child, but her game is sometimes higher than yours. Falling into this state now, she figured at least half the credit went to this little green tea.

But of course, she wouldn’t betray her only current sister aloud; she just asked, “How do we do it?”

Zhao Changhe spread open the Page of Karma: “Come here.”

The little black mist jumped onto it with a “thump.”

Zhao Changhe gently stroked the black mist, as if petting a cat: “When you see the Buddha light in my hand, start your cultivation.”

Before Piaomiao could say don’t touch me like that, golden light already flared from Zhao Changhe’s hand.

Piaomiao had to admit the Buddha essence was utterly orthodox, like a great monk. They said he’d only read the Diamond Sutra at most—how did he achieve such Buddha intent? Just from studying Buddhist classics all day yesterday?

Only Cui Yuanyang knew that the Sutra of Great Bliss and Extreme Joy was also a Buddhist scripture, and he was quite familiar with it.

A stray thought flashed by, and Piaomiao instinctively drove the time-manipulation technique she had comprehended earlier.

The next moment, Cui Yuanyang saw the little black mist vanish into the Celestial Book, while Zhao Changhe gripped the Dragon Sparrow, eyes closed in meditation.

Piaomiao was no longer before her, no longer in the present world—she was at a different point in the river of time.

A sudden fear rose in his heart: if she couldn’t return, would that mean Piaomiao was truly dead?

Indeed, if she didn’t come back, she would be dead—but failure wouldn’t come from a botched spell; rather, she might encounter some other calamity on the opposite shore of time.

Zhao Changhe had to have faith in himself; with his and Piaomiao’s strength facing the karma of the Soul-Capturing Mirror from a few days ago, no mishap was possible.

Soon, the image of himself and Piaomiao standing before the Soul-Capturing Mirror appeared… His own foolish, sheepish look, stirred into weak dependence by Yue Hongling, wasn’t worth watching; this time, the focus was on Piaomiao.

Sure enough, the Piaomiao there had been replaced by the little black mist Piaomiao. On the stone wall before her was the completed fragment he had once traced in the Qinghe Sword.

The ancient Piaomiao, robes fluttering, hovered in midair, four divine swords circling her. Her eyes were half-closed, her expression cold and distant, unreachable.

Exquisite… set against the apocalyptic backdrop of heaven and earth cracking apart, even more so.

That was the true Piaomiao… what he had seen in this life was never her original self.

As her jade hand lightly formed a sword seal, the four swords shot forth, piercing into four different dimensions, simultaneously slaying four demon gods manifesting the will of annihilation.

The positions where the swords landed seemed to form a formation. Piaomiao closed her eyes, her hands forming a strange mudra, and the crumbling earth was forcibly held together by immense power. As the heavenly realm collapsed, the human realm only suffered earthquakes and tsunamis, but never shattered.

This wasn’t something Piaomiao could achieve alone; besides the pre-forged swords, another, stronger force was helping from another corner. Zhao Changhe had heard Ye Wuming say, “Together with someone, we protected the human realm.” Clearly, one was Piaomiao, the other Ye Wuming—they were allies in that battle.

Piaomiao’s exhaustion was evident; her face grew paler, as if drained of all strength.

“Clang!” In the backyard of the Buddhist temple, Zhao Changhe, holding the Celestial Book, suddenly drew the Dragon Sparrow and slashed through the void.

Severing karma!

As his blade swung, something seemed to cut between the stone wall and Piaomiao, like a movie screen going dark—nothing could be seen.

Zhao Changhe had witnessed it before; he knew that when Piaomiao was utterly spent, a demonic hand would fall from the sky and slay her. In the Soul-Capturing Mirror, she had once again seen the fragment of her death by an ally’s betrayal, her hatred overwhelming, giving rise to a heart demon.

If he could sever what she saw before that moment, the cause of her demonic possession would be cut.

This was a blade of time and space—though he was not in the past, he struck the past from the present! That was severing karma.

Zhao Changhe watched tensely as the demonic intent on Piaomiao began to fade, turning gradually white.

Success?

No…

Suddenly, Zhao Changhe felt his consciousness blur, and he was dazedly drawn into the stone wall.

The slash that severed karma had succeeded… but the consumption was so outrageous that his spirit was too weak to resist the Soul-Capturing Mirror’s own soul-draining effect!

“Zhao Changhe, be careful!” Piaomiao, now turned from black to white, transformed into human form with a “bang,” leaped, and grabbed Zhao Changhe’s spirit: “Come back!”

With a “whoosh,” both of them entered the Soul-Capturing Mirror, vanishing without a trace.