Chapter 896: Life and Death

Chapter 896: Life and Death

Zhao Changhe frowned as he gazed at the shifting flesh and blood of the corpse puppet before him, lost in thought.

If exploring the starry cosmos was the key point of his later cultivation, then life and flesh had always been the foundation of his earlier path.

That was not to say that combining the Ye sisters constituted his cultivation—such a broad generalization could not encapsulate a divine power like creation, which involved myriad laws encompassed by the Heavenly Book, corresponding to any cultivator’s path. But just as Instructor Sun had once laid his groundwork, no matter how many changes were added, the foundation remained.

With that foundation, it was naturally easier to find the key.

Nor did it mean that Zhao Changhe himself had to walk the path of creation or the like... This was merely a reference given by Ye Jiuyou, a glimpse of what the Other Shore should truly manifest. He had never seen it before; now the door had opened, and clarity began to dawn.

As for his own path, he still needed to seek it.

Perhaps he truly needed to consult Ye Wuming again, to synthesize references... But that would be a blow to his pride. Now that he had laid his cards on the table, declaring his intent to possess her, how could he shamelessly ask her to teach him?

A headache.

Seeing him deep in thought, Ye Jiuyou smiled and pinched his cheek: “Little man, you’ve already done remarkably well. Haste makes waste—don’t rush.”

Zhao Changhe snapped back to reality and laughed: “What’s this? Now you’re the one doting on me?”

Ye Jiuyou said, “Do you realize how ridiculous you looked back then? You were just a child yourself, yet you put on a mature front, saying you’d cherish me and take care of me.”

Zhao Changhe snorted: “Where am I small? Want to feel for yourself?”

Ye Jiuyou chuckled: “Don’t you feel that after this sleep, you’ve ‘aged’ a lot? Even if it was just a nap to you.”

Zhao Changhe paused, then nodded silently.

The passage of time and the vicissitudes of the world moved him far more than before... Especially after witnessing the birth of descendants and the death of loved ones, one becomes “old.”

Ye Jiuyou had endured countless such cycles... Thinking back now, perhaps his attempts to win her over had often seemed childish in her eyes.

“But that’s exactly what I fell for.” Ye Jiuyou lifted her head and gently pecked his cheek: “Nothing else matters... The fact that you, still just a child, tried so hard to say you cared, that you wanted to take care of me, to keep me from being alone—that’s what matters most.”

Zhao Changhe scratched his head, a little ashamed: “It seems... I didn’t really manage it, since I slept for thirty years.”

Ye Jiuyou laughed: “They all resent those thirty years, but I never felt it. To me, thirty years is but a snap of the fingers. Besides, I kept you hidden—I could see you whenever I wanted, not like those starving women.”

Zhao Changhe tilted his head: “Why do you feel so gentle now?”

“Gentle?” Ye Jiuyou tilted her head in thought as well: “It’s just that I’ve stepped out of labels and out of my cage. My mind is much calmer... After all, someone cherishes me now, doesn’t he? Even when facing Ye Wuming, I no longer carry the same old bitterness, let alone when I’m alone with you.”

Zhao Changhe smiled and embraced her without speaking.

But Ye Jiuyou’s face turned stern: “Don’t tell me you prefer the old me—fierce and cold—because conquering that was more thrilling? Like the current Ye Wuming.”

“Where did that come from...” Zhao Changhe said, half laughing, half crying: “Don’t you know that turning a fierce, cold woman into a gentle older sister is the greatest sense of achievement? Just like you now.”

“Then doesn’t Ye Wuming still owe us that transformation?”

“...Why does everyone keep bringing up Ye Wuming?”

“Everyone? Isn’t it only natural for me to bring her up?” Ye Jiuyou said calmly: “Actually, there’s an optimal solution to this problem now, but no one wants to mention it. They’d rather take the long way around, isn’t that right?”

Zhao Changhe was silent for a moment, then said quietly: “There’s no optimal solution. If I’m unwilling, then it’s the worst solution.”

Ye Jiuyou smiled: “Alright, alright, my husband.”

Zhao Changhe asked: “Have Wanzhuang and Sisi started their tracing yet?”

“Not yet. The shamanic rituals prepared in Miaojiang are a bit cumbersome.”

Zhao Changhe nodded: “Then, my lady, will you accompany me to visit an old friend? You must know where he is buried.”

Ye Jiuyou was startled, then understood his meaning, and reached out to take his hand.

In an instant, they shifted and appeared atop Cangshan.

Back then, the Spirit Clan’s secret realm had “stood up,” and all its mountains and rivers had vanished. The secret realm itself was gone, and the holy temple had disappeared. Now, the Spirit Clan’s holy temple stood anew on Dali’s Cangshan.

Lie had torn the Spirit Clan’s land from the Miao frontier, bringing life and death together. The land was taken by Ye Jiuyou as research material; Lie’s soul had scattered, and his body was gone. But the Blood God Blade and the shattered formation disk remained. The Spirit Clan could not let them fall into the hands of demon cultists again. Under Sisi’s management, they were properly buried as a cenotaph, enshrined in the holy temple.

The revival of the Spirit Clan’s land, the backlash of the gu worms, the collapse of flesh and blood—the first to suffer from these calamities were the Spirit Clan themselves. If not for Zhao Changhe and the others’ schemes to stop it, the Spirit Clan would have been annihilated.

Among them, Lie had been utterly destroyed, body and soul.

If the Spirit Clan no longer recognized the land that had nearly destroyed them as their ancestral god, then the ancestor they should worship was Lie.

Because Lie was a human born from the Spirit Clan’s land—a pure-blooded Spirit Clan member. Though in his youth, he had been nothing but a slave.

“Back then, the battle was so rushed, I never had a chance to pay proper respects to the elder.” Zhao Changhe sat cross-legged in the holy temple, facing the spirit tablet, and poured wine onto the ground: “After waking this time, I’ve faced the passing of many old friends. I haven’t deliberately gone to pay my respects—deep down, I didn’t want to face it. But I had to come here for the elder.”

“The person who influenced me most was not Ye Wuming, but the elder. Whether it was the elder’s spirit, or the techniques and blade skills, they helped me cut through the storms of the jianghu and reach where I am today.”

“Sometimes I wonder... Did the elder think that battle was the final act, and resolutely chose mutual destruction? If the elder knew I disrupted that battle, that it wasn’t over—would the elder blame me for meddling, making the elder’s sacrifice seem somewhat pointless?”

“But later I thought, the elder probably wouldn’t blame me... Because this is the Spirit Clan, and behind the elder were his people. That mutual destruction wasn’t just to coordinate with Ye Wuming’s battle—it was for the Spirit Clan. Just like back then, when the elder carved the formation disk amid thunder and flames, with his people hunting him, yet he didn’t leave—he sat outside the Spirit Clan’s borders.”

“I only understood that detail much later.”

“The elder’s techniques were violent, and he was a demonic slaughterer, but the will within—that was what allowed the elder, a mortal body, to reach the third level of the Imperial Realm.”

“Perhaps I might have become a second you... But I was luckier than the elder—I met them... Starting from Hongling, all the way to Jiuyou. So I didn’t have to struggle painfully between demonic intent and killing aura; I could walk my own path, striding forward.”

“Different in form, but the same in spirit. Elder, rest assured—your torch will continue to be passed on in this world. Gods and Buddhas may scatter, but the human heart endures.”

With that, the wine was spent.

The Blood God Blade enshrined before the spirit tablet hummed, as if in response.

Zhao Changhe also felt his mudra palace pulse—the thoughts on life and death he had been pondering now brought a new understanding.

In the words known to all in Zhao Village: Some people are dead, yet they still live.

What is life and death? In this world of gods, it is hard to distinguish.

Zhao Changhe took out the blood-drinking stone he had obtained from another world and placed it before the spirit tablet: “Since the Blood God Blade is here, and Lord Xue didn’t take it back, let this material stay here too. I’ve infused some trials into it. In the future, whether from the Blood God Sect or the Spirit Clan, if anyone passes the trials, they will be heirs of the Blood God lineage.”

From behind, the voices of the temple guardian elders responded: “Yes.”

Zhao Changhe turned and saw two middle-aged women with lingering charm: “You recognize me?”

One of the elders sighed: “We were once the saintess’s personal guards. We even gave you worm cakes. Otherwise, do you think we’d let just anyone ramble in the holy temple for so long?”

“So you were those turncoats.”

“...”

Zhao Changhe asked: “Where is Sisi now?”

“Right here.” As the words fell, Sisi stepped into the hall from outside.

And so, between the two turncoat elders stood the petite, ever-youthful little queen—a visual shock as strong as that day in Gusu.

With a composed air, Sisi walked to the center of the hall, solemnly performed a great bow before the spirit tablet, and said calmly: “The trials mentioned by the holy envoy just now—spread the word to the entire clan.”

The elders bowed again: “Yes.”

Sisi straightened up, gazing at the spirit tablet above, and said softly: “In the past, we worshipped the ancestral god for so many years, yet we never knew who we were worshipping. It seemed like a vague image. Now we have a concrete entity, and we know what we are worshipping.”

Zhao Changhe hummed in acknowledgment.

Beside him, Ye Jiuyou muttered: “Actually, worshipping me would work too. I’d protect you.”

The people of the Great Han worshipped the ethereal; the state religion worshipped Ye Wuming. Ye Jiuyou couldn’t help feeling a little jealous.

Sisi glanced at her and smiled: “Sisi isn’t familiar with sister... Maybe next time we can worship in bed, and then perhaps we will be.”

Night Jiuyou’s eyes bulged.

She truly was not familiar with Sisi; she never expected Zhao Changhe’s harem to include such a type. Weren’t you just now solemnly offering sacrifices and giving orders with such gravitas? How did you turn around and become like this?

Zhao Changhe, however, was quite accustomed to Sisi’s antics: “Let’s go. Don’t spout nonsense in front of Senior Lie. Shall we go check out the shamanic formation setup this time?”

“Alright.” Sisi compliantly took Zhao Changhe’s arm and strolled out of the hall.

Night Jiuyou followed alongside, sizing up Sisi from head to toe, as if she had spotted a treasure.

What is this debauchery opposed to order… You shouldn’t be Lie’s successor; you should clearly be mine.

Leaving the holy temple and descending the mountain, Sisi sat in a pavilion at the foot. Attendants on either side set out wine.

Long-missed flower cakes, long-missed roasted insects, long-missed flower brew.

The mountain blossoms intoxicated, the stream babbling, echoing the trickle of Sisi pouring wine—suddenly it all seemed profoundly serene.

Sisi finished pouring, looked up, and smiled radiantly: “Why aren’t you talking? Do you feel you’ve wronged me most, with a thousand words you don’t know how to say?”

Zhao Changhe lowered his head and hummed in acknowledgment.

Originally, limited by mountains and rivers, he saw Sisi the least; their last meeting was on the battlefield, and after the fight came slumber.

Thinking back to that battlefield, it was the little enchantress who cleverly triggered “shared thoughts” to break the Heartlink Gu… Zhao Changhe sometimes wondered, if she hadn’t schemed and they truly tried shared thoughts, perhaps it would have been impossible.

“You don’t really owe me anything… You saved my spirit tribe from fire and water time and again, and lifted me to be the king of Miaojiang. I can’t give you much…” Sisi blinked. “I can only repay you with longing—does that count?”

Zhao Changhe could only say, “It counts.”

“So my name wasn’t well chosen,” Sisi said with a laugh. “But now, for you, distance is no longer an issue, and from now on, time is no longer an issue either. All the obstacles of lovesick mortals no longer exist for us—doesn’t that count as sweetness after bitterness?”

Zhao Changhe’s somewhat gloomy mood gradually dissipated: “It counts.”

“Then don’t put on that silent face.” Sisi gracefully rose from her seat and settled onto Zhao Changhe’s lap, raising the cup to his lips: “Feed me.”

Night Jiuyou: “?”

Isn’t this you feeding him? How is it called “feed me”?

But then Zhao Changhe took a sip of wine, lowered his head, and kissed Sisi on the lips, passing the wine into her mouth.

Night Jiuyou: “…”

So that’s “feed me”—got it.

Wait, are you two just doing this in front of me? You’re still a king, after all.

When the sip of wine was passed, Sisi’s cheeks flushed slightly, bright as peach blossoms: “I should have taken you back to the city to rest, but since Wan Zhuang and Hong Ling are all there now, I’ll be selfish and keep you a little longer—okay?”

Night Jiuyou tapped her head. This was practically a blatant dismissal.

Oh well, it really didn’t sound easy. So Night Jiuyou decided not to be a third wheel, stood up, and said, “I’ll go find them.”

With that, she slipped away directly, afraid that if she watched any longer, Sisi’s resentment would overflow into a river.

Sisi nestled into the hollow of his shoulder, stealing a glance at the direction Night Jiuyou had gone, and whispered, “This Sister Jiuyou is more understanding than I imagined. Is she really the demon god Jiuyou?”

“Maybe not anymore… She is already human.”

“So humans want to cultivate into demon gods, while demon gods wish to be human?”

“Different desires.”

Sisi nodded. “Anyway, whether I become a demon god or not, I want the power of one. Just so there will be no more mountains and rivers apart, no more years like three autumns.”

Zhao Changhe gently kissed her slightly burning cheek and said nothing.

Sisi said softly, “Actually, besides Senior Lie’s cenotaph in the holy temple, there’s another cenotaph over at Jade Dragon Snow Mountain. Guess whose?”

Zhao Changhe’s heart stirred: “The Sword Emperor.”

Sisi beamed. “I knew you’d guess. I set up his cenotaph without telling anyone, afraid they’d be upset. But for us, that is our fate.”

Zhao Changhe thought that when the Sword Emperor set up the decoy tomb, besides hiding his tracks, he also meant to trap people—anyone rashly intruding into the Sword Emperor’s tomb would likely die horribly. But those who encountered it were him, Sisi, and Tang Wanzhuang—each with a clear head—so the great thunderbolt never detonated, becoming a dud.

No matter how the Sword Emperor designed it, one had to admit it was the fate most tangled between him and Sisi.

For the Heavenly Dao’s hidden agent, whom everyone hated, only Sisi would set up a cenotaph, just to enshrine her unique longing.

Thinking of this, Zhao Changhe directly scooped Sisi into his arms: “Then let’s go pay our respects too—not for anything else, but because he made you and me entwined.”