Chapter Seventy: Traces

Inside the coral cave on the mountain cliff.

Xi Chunxue and the others were still unaware of what was happening outside. They had ceased their discussion about the Twelve Provinces and now sat cross-legged, eyes closed, quietly meditating as they waited for Duan Lingqi to return.

Qu Hancheng, however, was curiously studying the water-repelling array inscribed on the cave floor.

This array was truly remarkable. With every pulse of the fish-patterned shell at its unassuming center, waves rippled outward, just like a lake’s surface disturbed by falling pebbles. The array’s fluctuations spread into the crystals jutting from the cave walls, whose watery veins pulsed in rhythm with the array, extending its breath throughout the cavern.

Thus, though there was no flowing water in this deep cave, a fine mist hung in the air, making it as breathable and comfortable as dry land.

Marvelous indeed.

Su Yuanbai remained the solitary figure among them. He neither sat cross-legged in meditation nor, like Qu Hancheng, gazed about with curiosity. Instead, he leaned quietly against the cave wall, standing in a dim corner beyond the reach of the crystal’s luster.

His breath was shallow, his presence fading, like an ancient stone statue unchanged by the ages. If one didn’t look closely, even with eyes wide open, it would be difficult to spot him. And should one search by aura alone, it would be as if he were nowhere at all.

Suddenly, Xie Miu’an and Xi Chunxue opened their eyes at the same moment.

Xie Miu’an’s clouded gaze turned toward the cave’s entrance. He sensed someone parting the tangled seaweed that veiled the coral crevice and stepping inside.

Xi Chunxue, meanwhile, watched the central fish-patterned shell of the water-repelling array. The rhythm of the fish pattern wavered, causing the array to falter briefly—an unmistakable sign that someone had entered.

“A guest has arrived,” Xie Miu’an said, coughing softly as he lightly shook the soul-summoning banner in his hand.

But the banner, usually able to shake souls and freeze hearts, only made the blurry figure at the cave’s entrance waver slightly, without felling them to the ground as it once might have.

Seeing this, Xi Chunxue stepped forth, following the constellations and the steps of the Eight Trigrams. Her form darted forward like a meteor chasing the moon, reaching the indistinct figure just as he was about to leave, and seized his arm.

She immediately sensed something amiss. A searing, burning pain shot through her palm, as if fire had scorched her very heart. Startled by the sudden agony, she released her grip.

Just as she circulated her Daoist energy to protect her palm and prepared to seize him again, she realized the figure had already vanished from the cave entrance.

Xi Chunxue moved to give chase, but at that moment touched the transparent, gossamer barrier of the array. Upon closer inspection, she saw it was this delicate, wing-like screen that kept the sea at bay beyond the coral-fringed mouth of the cave.

“Don’t chase,” Xie Miu’an said, watching her hesitate at the entrance. “Even if you can use the Water-Repelling Technique and walk unharmed through the waves, your Daoist energy won’t sustain you long beneath the weight of the ocean. Even true masters must bow their heads to the Dragon King here, let alone a young girl with but a few decades of cultivation.”

Xi Chunxue possessed a breadth of Daoist knowledge and experience rare among disciples, but with the legendary Mountain Granary Book Pavilion in her possession, Xie Miu’an found nothing surprising in this.

Still, for all her talents, she was a young disciple of just over twenty years’ training—not one of those cultivators who survived by plundering fate, murder, and arson, strengthening themselves by preying on all living things.

“But if that person reports us to the Dragon Palace, and they send sea monsters and demons to capture us, wouldn’t our escape be even more difficult? Let me try,” Xi Chunxue said, frowning in thought, still intent on giving chase.

“I’ve spoken to you about him as well,” Xie Miu’an replied, glancing at Su Yuanbai, who stood partly hidden behind a cluster of luminous water-veined crystals. His murky eyes met Su Yuanbai’s calm, dark gaze.

“You trust me so much? Aren’t you afraid I’ll abandon you all?” Su Yuanbai asked, looking down with a faint smile.

“If you were truly that heartless, I wouldn’t be alive, and they would long ago have been cast aside by you in the underworld. That’s why I dared risk having the Judge of Fate add a stroke to my Book of Life and Death to seek you out,” Xie Miu’an replied with a gentle cough.

“You know I’ve been to the underworld?” Su Yuanbai asked levelly.

“I know all about the ghostly happenings on Sangyu Island,” Xie Miu’an answered, lowering his head.

“The ghostly artifact lost in Yinbei City—you stole it, didn’t you?” Su Yuanbai said calmly.

“Yes. I meant to use it to absorb your soul, to annihilate you completely. But to say I stole it isn’t quite accurate; the Judge of the Dead placed it in Yinbei City on purpose. Otherwise, how could a city without even a temple or a trace of incense possess such a treasure of the Hall of Yama?” Xie Miu’an looked at Su Yuanbai, hiding nothing of his past attempt to kill him.

“What did this ghostly artifact look like?” Su Yuanbai asked.

“A dagger, a foot and two inches long, able to kill and destroy souls—an exceedingly ruthless weapon with no restrictions. Whether an immortal master or a commoner, anyone could wield it. Its only flaw was it could not be claimed by any one master,” Xie Miu’an explained.

“Was its blade snow-white, its hilt shaped like a crescent moon, and did holding it give a pricking pain, as if by needles?” Qu Hancheng suddenly interjected in alarm.

“A pricking pain? If the wielder harbors a strong sense of possession, such a sensation can occur. It’s not much of a hindrance; one can forcibly claim the dagger as their own. Just beware—never let its tip pierce your flesh. Unless you are a master who has cultivated for over a hundred years, reaching the Wandering Spirit Realm, you’ll die and your soul will be lost,” Xie Miu’an replied, frowning at Qu Hancheng.

“The Hall of Yama’s treasures must be more than just this, surely?” Su Yuanbai asked softly.

“The Soul-Harvesting Dagger is considered a treasure because it can grow in power. With every cultivator it slays, it becomes more lethal. When I acquired it, it was already deadly to any below the Wandering Spirit level,” Xie Miu’an explained.

“Besides not being able to recognize a master, it has another flaw—it can corrupt the weak-willed, filling them with greed and bloodlust to strengthen itself.”

“So you gave it to Tang Changhong?!” Qu Hancheng’s voice rose sharply, staring at Xie Miu’an in shock.

“Tang Changhong? The prison guard who worked with you? I’d never entrust something that dangerous to him. Though he once slew a demon disguised as a wealthy squire, he struck me as nothing more than a timid ordinary man,” Xie Miu’an replied, recalling the name after a moment’s thought.

“Then how did he end up with the Soul-Harvesting Dagger you speak of?” Qu Hancheng demanded incredulously.

“It seems the cultivators used him as a pawn. At first, the dagger was meant to deal with this one here, but it proved useless against him,” Xie Miu’an said, glancing sidelong at Su Yuanbai, then back at the agitated Qu Hancheng.

“Later, I used it as a bargaining chip to obtain a Nine-Grade Immortal Pill—one that takes five hundred years to refine, has a ninety percent chance of failure, and produces but a single pill per cauldron. After all, it’s far more convincing to lure these cultivators by letting them see a real treasure on Sangyu Island, than by mere rumor,” Xie Miu’an said calmly.