Chapter Seven: The Relief

“Were you trying to break out of prison just now?”

Even though Su Yuanbai sensed the shifting emotions of the woman in prison garb before him, he felt not the slightest urge to offer her comfort, and instead calmly voiced his own doubts.

“No. Escape? Ha. How would I ever get out? Even if I could truly flee this dungeon, without the great ship inscribed with the Sea-Crossing Script, who could safely leave Sangyu Island? Even a cultivator at the Spirit Roaming level, without that script, would only be swallowed up by the sudden tempests and monstrous waves if they dared to cross the vast sea.”

The woman in prison clothes laughed at herself as she spoke.

“Then what were you just trying to do?” Su Yuanbai was puzzled. If she had no intention of escaping, there was no sense in leaving her cell at all.

“This prison is called Bi Zhen Prison. It’s rumored that at the very bottom of the dungeon dwells a living Bihuan beast. If one can earn the recognition of the Bihuan, their crimes may be cleansed. I do not wish to bear the accusation of murdering my mentor and allowing my spirit beast to devour someone for the rest of my life, nor do I want to be imprisoned here forever.”

She turned to look at Su Yuanbai, her voice soft.

“Then why did you suddenly attack me?” Su Yuanbai pressed further.

“You know very well why! If you hadn’t barged in and disrupted my search for the Bihuan’s lair—and besides, you’re not even wearing clothes! Have you no sense of shame before me?”

The woman’s cheeks flushed, her words sharp and scornful.

“What does this Bihuan look like?” Su Yuanbai seemed unfazed by her tone, calmly drawing out the keywords he wished to hear from what she considered her vexing tirade.

“The Bihuan—it’s a child of the dragon: with a qilin’s head, a zhì’s tail, fish-like whiskers, its form resembles a tiger, and it loves to judge disputes. Even ordinary folk know this much. The beast-head rings on most prison gates are shaped in its likeness…”

She looked at Su Yuanbai, puzzled by his question.

“Is it like that?” Su Yuanbai pointed toward the massive bronze doors at the end of the corridor to the right.

“It’s too dark. I can’t see clearly.”

Though her eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom, she still could not make out anything in the distant darkness, which made her slightly uneasy.

This naked man could see in the night, and even at great distances.

She glanced at Su Yuanbai’s wrist, and any trace of surprise faded from her heart. Without the binding power of a spirit-suppressing chain, she too was confident she could channel spiritual energy through her eyes and see in the darkness as if it were daylight.

“What mountain spirit or wild demon are you, shapeshifted into human form? Though you speak our tongue well enough—sounds like the official dialect from the Zhonghe Prefecture—didn’t the Demon-Taming Institute there teach you that even in human form you must wear clothing? If a demon breaks the rules of the mortal world, the punishment is often harsher than for any human.”

Now, she felt she had a clearer sense of the naked man’s true nature, and her tone, though still mocking, softened with a hint of admonition. Wild spirits, after all, know little of the world’s customs, and if the Demon-Taming officials were lax in their teaching, it was only natural that some naive, ill-mannered shapeshifters would appear.

“I’m a mountain spirit in disguise?” Su Yuanbai frowned slightly. Rather than deny it outright, he thought the prisoner’s words were not entirely without merit. That old man had dragon’s claws; perhaps he himself had a tail as well.

He glanced over his shoulder to check, but his bare coccyx showed no sign of a furry tail.

“If you don’t wish to reveal your true self, so be it. But don’t trouble me further. Next time you see someone, put on some clothes first.”

Her voice was cold, and the flush had faded from her cheeks. She still felt some shame before her own kind, but with a stranger—especially one of another race—such scruples no longer bound her.

Su Yuanbai did not continue to pester her, his head lowered as he pondered whether he was truly born human or a spirit in human form. This question seemed no less difficult than the age-old “Who am I?”

The woman didn’t linger on Su Yuanbai’s intentions. When he pointed out the direction at the corridor’s end, she strode quickly toward it. Her steps were no longer light, but heavy, her iron shackles clanking with each stride.

Soon, she reached the great bronze door.

The lifelike Bihuan relief upon it made her legs tremble and her heart pound. Under those golden, glowing eyes, she felt as if she stood trial, a criminal awaiting judgment.

I am not guilty.

She clenched her fist, drew a deep breath, and placed both hands on the bronze door, pushing with all her strength.

The bronze door did not budge.

Clearly, brute force alone could not open it. Nor did she find any beast ring, iron lock, or keyhole—nothing that might serve as a mechanism for entry. The only thing on the door was the exquisitely carved Bihuan relief.

“Damn it!”

Frustrated, she pounded her bloody fist against the bronze. Blue light flickered from the shackles at her wrist. Her knuckles split and blood smeared across the door, dripping to the floor.

Yet the bronze door remained unmoved, as immovable as a mountain barring her path.

There must be a way. There has to be a way!

The pain in her fist brought clarity to her frantic mind. She leaned against the door, breath coming fast, her thoughts racing.

She had not felt such panic, even when she was transferred from the Shanquing Prefecture prison to the Yunhai Prefecture prison. But since being moved from Yunhai to this remote Sangyu Island and the Bi Zhen Prison, fear had truly begun to take hold.

She had never heard of a prisoner being released from Bi Zhen Prison. Even when the empire declared amnesty, the inmates of Bi Zhen were excluded.

It was only then that she began to believe the words of the convict she’d met in Yunhai Prison—that deep within Bi Zhen, there dwelled a Bihuan who judged with impartial justice, and if one could win its recognition, one could regain freedom.

Even though she’d never heard of anyone who’d actually seen the Bihuan, she had no choice but to put her faith in this legend.

Because she had no other choice.

If one must choose, then one must believe.

With that, she unclenched her fist, running her palm over every detail of the Bihuan’s relief, feeling the cold bronze and the tang of rust and blood mingling in the air. She could not tell if the scent was from her own blood or the bronze itself.

“I just asked someone, and he said I am human. Are you human?” Su Yuanbai’s voice rang out suddenly behind her, startling her so much that she stumbled backward—only to bump into the heavy bronze door behind her, forcing her to face this man, confused and questioning, at close quarters.