Chapter Sixty: Revealing Oneself

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In the prison corridor, Qu Hanchen kept his eyes tightly shut, his expression twisted with pain. His complexion had turned a deep, unnatural blue, as though he had been stricken by a deadly poison.

“Don’t tell me you blamed our lord because of this?” Duan Lingqi muttered.

“No,” Xi Chunxue replied calmly, shaking her head.

After Su Yuanbai had uttered that line—“To fight against the heavens, what endless joy!”—Xi Chunxue was once again keenly aware of the chasm between herself and this handsome man. It was a gap that could not be bridged.

She could not see through him.

And he, for his part, did not bother looking.

So, Xi Chunxue released the dispersal spell, let Duan Lingqi out, and chose to trust that Su Yuanbai was not the sort of fiend who would torment the world’s living beings.

“No? You really don’t strike me as an alchemist who takes the fate of the world as her own responsibility,” Duan Lingqi said, his dragon eyes flicking over to her calm profile.

“Keep talking and I’ll show you whether my other spells have dulled.” Xi Chunxue turned her head to regard the very curious dragon’s face of Duan Lingqi, raised her left hand, and, with a swift gesture, pointed mercilessly at his feet.

A crackle.

A bolt of white lightning shot from her fingertip and struck the floor at Duan Lingqi’s feet, scorching the black tiles until they smoked and sizzled.

“How is your spiritual energy still so abundant?!” Duan Lingqi jumped back, startled.

“The prison’s spirit-sealing array has been broken. Spiritual energy flows here at will. I have the ‘Jade Scripture of Langhuan’ to absorb this energy, channel it through my dantian, and refine it into the peerless Qi of Westflower, which pours through my bones and meridians. This Westflower Qi is even superior to the ordinary immortal essence,” Xi Chunxue explained calmly.

“I envy you,” Duan Lingqi sighed.

He did not know what grade the ‘Jade Scripture of Langhuan’ belonged to, but to absorb spiritual energy and refine it into something rivaling immortal essence—such a technique was of the highest class.

To this day, he could only absorb spiritual energy by instinct, and of every ten parts coursing through his body, only six could be retained and put to use. Of those six, three were still tainted and impure.

Duan Lingqi had searched for a scripture that would suit his own needs for cultivating energy, but most such methods were intended for humans, not for monsters.

Even though he had refined the twelve-tiered transverse bone and achieved a human form, his bones, organs, and meridians remained fundamentally different.

“The Biyou Palace of Penglai Island might have what you seek,” Xi Chunxue said after a pause, looking at Duan Lingqi’s expressive dragon face.

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“Really?” Duan Lingqi’s eyes lit up.

“But Penglai Island lies to the north shore, east of the Eastern Sea. The island is vast, five thousand li in circumference, but it is surrounded by the Nether Sea. That sea, though windless, is lashed by waves a hundred feet high—it is not something easily crossed. Unless you have transformed from a dragon-serpent into a true dragon, able to ride the clouds, you have no way to fly across,” Xi Chunxue said, shaking her head.

“Then why say so at all? Forget the Nether Sea east of the Eastern Sea—even crossing the Eastern Sea itself would be perilous for me. And transforming from a dragon-serpent into a true dragon—is that so easily done?” Duan Lingqi’s eyes dimmed.

“Difficult for you, perhaps, but not for your lord,” Xi Chunxue replied, glancing at Su Yuanbai, who stood beside Qu Hanchen.

Duan Lingqi shot Su Yuanbai a look, mumbled a few incomprehensible words, and did not pursue the subject further.

“Are you finished talking?” Su Yuanbai asked quietly, turning his head to Xi Chunxue and Duan Lingqi as they conversed.

“What is wrong with him? His soul has already returned to his body, but this change…” Xi Chunxue asked, gazing down at Qu Hanchen’s pained face.

“His mortal flesh cannot adapt, that is all. His soul has already undergone transformation, and naturally his body must change with it. He is still himself, yet no longer himself,” Su Yuanbai answered calmly.

“That contract of fate you mentioned in the Underworld—what is it?” Xi Chunxue asked.

“You still don’t believe I am a good man,” Su Yuanbai said, looking at her.

Xi Chunxue was silent.

“I don’t consider myself a good man, either,” Su Yuanbai replied with a faint smile.

“The contract of fate, according to the fragments of memory I possess, means I have bestowed upon him a Mandate of Heaven, the ultimate destiny. Even if he has now returned from the Underworld, one day he must return there again. To slay the Yama King—or be slain by him. Such is the contract of fate; so it is decreed,” Su Yuanbai said evenly.

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“There must be some confusion in your memory. The Mandate of Heaven is not something that can be given so lightly.” Xi Chunxue was stunned when she heard those words, then laughed incredulously. If this handsome man claimed to be some ancient immortal or a celestial general sent down to face tribulations, she might—reluctantly—believe it.

But to claim he could bestow the Mandate of Heaven?

“He is destined to become Yama,” Su Yuanbai replied in a flat tone.

“Even if, by some one-in-a-billion chance, he actually kills Yama, he cannot become Yama himself. Yama is a true deity of the Underworld, appointed by the Heavenly Emperor, worshipped by the masses of the mortal world!” Xi Chunxue looked at Su Yuanbai, who spoke with firm conviction, and sighed heavily in resignation.

At first, in the Underworld, Xi Chunxue had been startled by Su Yuanbai’s talk of “killing Yama,” but as time passed and she mulled it over, she realized the whole notion was absurdly impossible.

In ancient times the Heavenly Emperor, and now the Divine Sovereign—neither would ever alter the appointments of the celestial deities.

Su Yuanbai offered no further explanation. After confirming that Qu Hanchen’s life was not in danger, he walked alone to the end of the corridor, stopping before the bronze doors adorned with the relief of a bixie beast.

“I suspect your lord has been practicing some technique and suffered a backlash, resulting in amnesia,” Xi Chunxue said to Duan Lingqi, shaking her head helplessly. She did not deny the man’s strength, but his claims were too fantastic to believe.

“Don’t you feel a chill?” Duan Lingqi did not answer her, instead rubbing his scales. He sensed a piercing, icy wind swirling around them.

“A little,” Xi Chunxue replied, frowning.

“He doesn’t look so pained anymore,” Duan Lingqi said, glancing down at Qu Hanchen on the ground. The man’s agony had faded, and now he looked as peaceful as an old man in a deep sleep.

“Reveal!” Xi Chunxue, seeing this, suddenly realized something. She quickly closed her eyes, ran two fingers across her eyelids, and when she opened them again, she shouted a command.

At once, a white glow flickered in her pupils, spilling from the corners of her eyes. And then she saw an incredible scene.

Standing in the corridor were two figures.

One was tall and thin, his face pale as death, a broad grin revealing a long, lolling tongue. The words “Fortune Upon First Sight” were written on his official cap. The other was burly and fierce-faced, short and dark, his cap inscribed with “Peace Under Heaven.”

Both held chains and shackles in their hands.

They were none other than the Black and White Impermanence!