Chapter 1001: Falling into a Trap

Having explained the significance of the Ground Ranking, Lu Yang wasted no time. Before Tang Qiaoqiao and Cui Que'er could arrive, he dragged Old Meng along to accumulate merit, racing against the clock to squeeze out every possible moment for leisure.

Yet, he dared not leave that cabal of debauched monks and insect cultivators to their own devices; he could not be certain if this loop would be their last.

Should luck fail them and this prove to be the final cycle, allowing even a single soul to slip through the cracks would unleash utter chaos upon the City of the Founding Emperor.

Lu Yang had tasted the bitterness of such a mistake before.

During a previous entrapment in the cycle, he had endured the exact same conversation with Tao Yaoye fifteen times. Eventually, suffocated by the sheer monotony of the words, he had brushed her off with a careless reply.

As fate would have it, that very instance marked the end of the loop. His dismissiveness left Tao Yaoye on the verge of tears, convinced she had committed some grave offense to displease her senior brother. Lu Yang had been forced to spend an age whispering gentle explanations to soothe her spirit and undo the misunderstanding.

"The crisis of the Founding Emperor City..."

"My beauty, just submit to me..."

"My days are numbered..."

"From this moment forth, your sensitivity..."

"Master, these people are all gathered here, you need only search their souls."

Lu Yang led Meng Jingzhou through the sequence in one fluid, breathless motion, finally bringing their progress abreast of where they had stood before the loops began.

"Why does it feel as though you are in such a frantic rush?" Meng Jingzhou asked, utterly unable to match Lu Yang’s frantic tempo. It was as if his companion possessed prior knowledge of every unfolding event.

"Do not ask; my heart is weary beyond measure," Lu Yang sighed, offering a silent prayer that a sixth cycle would not be forced upon them.

Stepping into uncharted time at last, Lu Yang felt a wave of relief wash over him. He approached a sugar-painting stall and purchased two confections, one fashioned in his own likeness and the other in Meng Jingzhou’s.

He handed the sugary likeness over to his companion. "Here, my treat."

Meng Jingzhou accepted the sweet sculpture with a conflicted expression, turning it over and over in his hands, not quite daring to take a bite.

There was nothing inherently wrong with the sugar painting, save for the fact that the resemblance was starkly, uncomfortably accurate.

Lu Yang himself hesitated to bite into his own image, yet he had felt it a pity to pass up a rare portrait of himself.

Deep within his spiritual consciousness—whether stirred by their arrival at an unknown hour or by the sight of Lu Yang purchasing his own likeness—the Immortal Fairy suddenly sat up from her lotus throne, her interest piqued.

"Little Yang, come, let this Immortal borrow your vessel for a moment."

Before Lu Yang could voice a protest, his body was seized by the ancient matriarch of demons.

Possessing Lu Yang’s form, she took a single lick of the sugar painting and let out a long, melodious hum of deep satisfaction.

"Exquisite sweetness."

With that, she restored his consciousness to his own flesh.

Witnessing this, Lu Yang suspiciously took a lick of his own candy. It tasted no different from ordinary sugar; he wondered why the Fairy had praised it so profoundly.

Once the first bite was taken, the psychological barrier shattered, and Lu Yang continued to enjoy his treat.

Seeing that Lu Yang dared to eat it, Meng Jingzhou saw no reason to remain timid and began to consume his own.

The two of them strolled down the bustling thoroughfare, the overlapping voices of the passing crowd drifting naturally into their ears.

"Lu Cheng, let us divorce. You are already forty, yet you have accomplished absolutely nothing. Had I known, I would never have wed you."

"Son, you are six years old now. Cease spending my wealth; it is time you stood on your own. Our bond as father and son ends today."

"You wretched old creature, look how much silver I have squandered on you since you fell ill. From this day forth, I wash my hands of your life and death. Begone from this house."

Lu Yang came to a sudden halt. In rapid succession, a myriad of similar dialogues reached his ears: husbands divorcing wives, fathers abandoning sons, children casting away their mothers. The frequency of it was terrifying.

"Hold a moment. Does something not feel entirely amiss?"

The two companions realized that, without their noticing, the laughter that once echoed through the streets had vanished entirely. In its stead remained only the chaotic shuffling of footsteps and the cold, unfeeling murmur of detached conversations.

They had been talking and laughing merrily between themselves, which had blinded them to the sudden mutation of their surroundings.

Across the entire grand avenue, only their own laughter remained. They were the sole anomalies, utterly out of place.

"What is the meaning of this!"

"The Heart-Severing Pill!"

Lu Yang struck upon the realization in a flash. This was unmistakably the manifestation of the Heart-Severing Pill. Stripped of emotion, humanity became driven solely by cold utility. To a father, a young son was a burden; to children, an aged mother was an encumbrance—both entirely expendable.

Every soul upon this street had consumed the poison.

No, that was incorrect; it was far more than just this single street.

Privacy was a luxury seldom preserved under the sweep of a cultivator's divine sense, but Lu Yang could care less for propriety now. His consciousness rippled outward, enveloping dozens of streets and residences. Whether mortal or cultivator, every face was devoid of expression, moving through the world like the living dead.

"At this rate, I fear the entire City of the Founding Emperor has fallen into this state!" Cold sweat drenched Lu Yang's brow as an omen of great calamity gripped him.

"Is it the work of the Heartless Sect? How did they manage to ensnare everyone at once!" Meng Jingzhou’s expression turned solemn. Beneath the watchful eyes of the public, neither of them had detected the snare until now.

As if struck by a memory, Lu Yang cast his gaze downward. Upon the ground lay a puddle of stagnant water, portions of it seeping into the fissures of the bluestone street. The earth and mud were thoroughly drenched. The disparate clues suddenly bound themselves into a single, cohesive thread.

"The canal water!"

"Do you recall what Master Duanchen told us of the Heart-Severing Pill after he searched the soul of the Three-Eyed Ghost Monk?"

Prompted by Lu Yang's reminder, Meng Jingzhou instantly understood. "The Heart-Severing Pill dissolves upon contact with water! It is the water supply!"

"Precisely. Someone must have dumped a vast quantity of the pills into the canal. Today is the Buddha Bathing Festival, the anniversary of the World-Honored One’s birth. To celebrate, the populace splashes water throughout the city!"

"The canal water was sprayed across the entirety of the Founding Emperor City. As the moisture evaporated, the essence of the Heart-Severing Pill drifted into the air. Drifting with every breath, the populace inhaled it unawares!"

"It may be that demonic beasts are even more susceptible to its properties. Remember the insect cultivator we encountered during our deeds of merit? The insect king turned upon its master, nearly triggering a catastrophic plague. It must have been because the beast was affected by the pill, casting off the emotional shackles of its bond!"

"Our own cultivations are too profound. Even if we ingested a whole pill, its effects would linger for a few breaths at most. This diluted mist in the air is weakened thousands of times over; our bodies simply immunize themselves upon inhalation."

"But the other cultivators possess no such resilience!"

"We must find Master Duanchen. He is likewise in the Soul Transformation Stage; though his power falls short of ours, he should still be unaffected!"

Making a swift determination, the two discarded the city ordinance forbidding flight. They rose into the air, soaring directly toward the Temple of the Founding Emperor.

They descended at the temple gates. The incense smoke still billowed in prosperity; indeed, owing to the influence of the Heart-Severing Pill, the crowd of pilgrims seeking to offer prayers had grown even denser.

The worshippers moved with wooden expressions, stepping into the temple like puppets pulled by invisible strings. They deposited copper coins, silver, gold, and spirit stones into the merit boxes with unsettlingly precise, mechanical movements.

If there had been those before who merely followed the crowd out of shallow custom, they now lacked even the emotion required to feign devotion in their state of severed heart.

The duo burst through the doors of the Abbot’s quarters, shouting in desperate haste, "Master, disaster has struck! The entire city has been poisoned by the Heart-Severing venom!"