Chapter 323: Snow Melts and Spring Comes, Past Life and Present Life

The corpse of True Lord Baihe lay on the ground, blood gushing from his severed neck, emitting a rich, fresh, metallic scent that dyed the young man's eyes crimson.

Ning Changjiu hung his head low, like a deflated ball. His knee pressed weakly against the severed neck, his tattered, blood-stained clothes trembling in the cold wind that swept through the gorge. The sword he leaned on had easily pierced the rock, its tip buried halfway in.

Ning Changjiu held that posture, resembling a bloody statue of slaughter.

The golden light in his pupils had extinguished, but his injuries showed no sign of improvement. Instead, the previously suppressed chaotic spiritual energy erupted, tearing through his muscles and skin, continuously gushing out and instantly drenching him in blood.

The two walls of the mountain peak were covered in sword marks, completely devoid of snow, as the cold wind incessantly poured in, seemingly intent on chilling his blood.

In the Three Thousand Worlds, Zhao Xiang'er sat before a water mirror, her white gown spotless. The scene in the mirror was like a colossal blade piercing her eyes. She gazed fixedly, showing no sorrow or joy, her expression devoid of vitality. Yet, the blood flowing from the young man's sword-grooved body in the gorge seemed to travel through winding ley lines, pouring into her own eyes.

Shi Yu stood by her side, watching her nervously.

"Sister, perhaps I should go and check on him for you?" Shi Yu asked.

Zhao Xiang'er softly replied, "There's no need."

Shi Yu looked at the person in the water mirror and felt that the Prince Consort was truly in grave danger.

"Don't worry, Sister," Shi Yu said earnestly, "I'll disguise myself so the Prince Consort won't see my family background or true appearance."

Zhao Xiang'er's chin lifted slightly, her gaze falling upon the golden-haired girl. She let out a small laugh. "In your eyes, is he really that kind of person?"

*Isn't it obvious?* Shi Yu thought to herself. *He already has a family, yet he's still out there flirting. If I were him, I'd stay home every day, holding Sister Xiang'er, and never go anywhere.*

"I..." Shi Yu struggled for words, then whispered, "Anyway, Sister, don't be impulsive."

Zhao Xiang'er softly said, "I won't."

Shi Yu nodded. "Hmm, someone like him deserves a lesson. Otherwise, what kind of situation will you return to, Sister, if you find him surrounded by wives and concubines?"

Zhao Xiang'er didn't speak, merely shaking her head gently. "Every time he gains another confidante, the bond between us weakens by a fraction. Isn't that precisely what Mother wishes to see?"

"What?" Shi Yu was slightly startled by this statement. "If Mother intended that, what was the purpose of that marriage contract in the first place?"

Zhao Xiang'er quietly watched the scene in the water mirror, gazing at the dying young man, and softly said, "I don't know."

With that, the girl closed her eyes, waved her sleeve, and dispersed the image in the water mirror.

"Shi Yu," she called.

"Sister," Shi Yu replied, snapping back to attention.

Zhao Xiang'er gently covered her right eye. As her hand lowered, a single tear suspended between her fingers. She handed it to Shi Yu and said, "Bring forth a rain."

Shi Yu's expression subtly changed. "How can this be? Sister, sacrificing your cultivation for this isn't worth it. The trial in the World of All Dharmas is just ten days away, and the opportunity for the Five Paths cannot be lost. You must remain in peak spiritual and physical condition."

Zhao Xiang'er didn't reply, simply stating, "Are you the elder sister, or am I?"

Shi Yu bit her lip and fell silent. A moment later, she reluctantly took the tear.

"Understood."

The Hidden World, unseen.

In the temple where countless gods and Buddhas sat atop golden lanterns, behind shimmering golden curtains, the Temple Lord sat quietly as always, her exquisite figure undulating amidst the layers of drapery.

Before her, a mirror shimmered, enveloped in misty vapor.

The mirror also showed that snow-covered gorge, where the once seventh disciple of the Daoist temple knelt on the ground, heavily wounded, both he and his sword stained red.

She, too, simply watched, her eyes, which seemed capable of seeing through all worldly dust, remained utterly expressionless.

Outside the temple, the Second Senior Brother, with a heavy ancient saber at his waist, walked along the divine path, passing a thousand steles.

The Eldest Senior Sister, dressed in a green skirt, stood at the entrance, her hand reversed on her sword, pushing it out to block the temple door.

The Second Senior Brother looked at the Eldest Senior Sister and said earnestly, "Our junior brother is about to die."

The Eldest Senior Sister replied, "Master hasn't given any instructions yet."

The Second Senior Brother frowned. "Although Junior Brother is severely injured, saving him would be effortless if we were to go. What exactly is Master wary of?"

The Eldest Senior Sister explained, "The Unseen Realm is not a truly hidden world. The more traces we leave in the mortal realm, the sooner these clues will pinpoint our location."

The Second Senior Brother remained silent for a long time. He suppressed his usual smile, gripping his saber, and asked seriously, "Is Master's condition worse than we imagined?"

The Eldest Senior Sister nodded gently.

The Second Senior Brother then asked, "Compared to seven hundred years ago?"

The Eldest Senior Sister replied, "Much worse."

The Second Senior Brother's expression showed disbelief. "How can this be?"

The Eldest Senior Sister sighed softly.

She hadn't believed it before either, not until the day Master told her that time had been rewound once.

Though the tumultuous waves in her heart had subsided, every time she recalled it, lingering ripples remained.

She even dared not confirm where she was at that very moment.

"Master herself is finding ways to resolve the current difficulties. I believe Master can break through this predicament," the Eldest Senior Sister said. "However, now... many beings we once regarded as ants might need to be re-evaluated before Master's condition fully recovers."

"Are you saying..." The Second Senior Brother's eyes narrowed, his thumb pressing tightly against the rough hilt of his saber.

The Eldest Senior Sister nodded.

The Second Senior Brother glanced at the temple and sighed softly. "It's all my fault for being so unobservant back then in the Zhao Kingdom, failing to recognize Junior Brother. Otherwise, I would have brought him back then, saving him from all these women draining his vital energy and eroding his fighting spirit now."

The Eldest Senior Sister bothered not to entertain his nonsense, simply stating, "Junior Brother has his own destiny."

"Destiny?" The Second Senior Brother chuckled helplessly. "Isn't Junior Brother's destiny simply women? Who is it this time?"

He had merely been joking, but to his surprise, the Eldest Senior Sister genuinely replied, "The one from the Three Thousand Worlds."

The Second Senior Brother's brow furrowed again. "Is the Vermillion Bird God truly not afraid of angering Bai Zang? Though the Three Thousand Worlds are vast, there's no true deity presiding over them. During the Bai Zang Year, they are merely a boat floating on the sea. If Bai Zang were to truly make an enemy, destroying the Three Thousand Worlds wouldn't be difficult, just a bit energy-consuming."

"Bai Zang won't do that," the Eldest Senior Sister stated.

"Why?" the Second Senior Brother asked.

The Eldest Senior Sister replied, "Because Bai Zang doesn't care what the Vermillion Bird does. She has already obtained the heart of the Celestial God of Hiddenness, making her utterly fearless. Her goal at this moment is likely only one."

The Second Senior Brother asked, "Us?"

"Yes," the Eldest Senior Sister confirmed.

Both fell silent.

The temple itself was equally silent.

The Temple Lord could clearly hear the discussion outside the temple doors, but she paid it no mind.

She quietly watched the figure in the misty vapor.

Ning Changjiu remained kneeling in the snow-covered gorge, gradually growing cold in the torrent-like wind.

Above his head, however, a cloud suddenly drifted into view.

Ning Changjiu wasn't sure if he would die.

The power of his authority had protected his heart, but his earlier forceful block of True Lord Baihe's full-power attack with the Asura Divine Record had shredded countless meridians and acupoints within his body. These injuries were worsening, showing no signs of improvement whatsoever.

The injuries were far more severe than he had anticipated.

This was the "mountain of daggers and sea of flames" separating the Purple Court and the Five Paths.

Ning Changjiu could hear his own heartbeat and feel the throbbing pulse at his temples. The teeth-gnashing wind continually brushed past his ears, and the tearing sensation of pain warned him of impending death.

In Ning Changjiu's hazy consciousness, many fantastical memories began to take shape.

In these memories, he rode a horse, galloping across grasslands, drawing his bow and notching an arrow. Behind him, the sounds of hooves trampled the green grass, and beside him, there seemed to be a blurred face.

The sound of horse hooves faded into the distance. A dragon's roar, ancient and primal, echoed from a bygone era, like being besieged on all sides in a poem. The sun, high above, seemed like a suspended drum, thumping loudly, and then his body, too, seemed to become a drum, being beaten, resonating with the symphony of heaven and earth.

Something inside him felt as if it were boiling, threatening to burst through the lid of a pot.

Ning Changjiu pressed his lips together, his eyelids trembling uncontrollably. He didn't know where these memories came from, but as his consciousness weakened, they surged forth, vying for attention, like descendants coveting the wealth of a dying father.

Ning Changjiu struggled to open his eyes.

He thought he had opened his eyes.

He lifted his head, and in the sky, he heard the whistling sound of warhorses carrying clouds as they galloped past.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

For a moment, Ning Changjiu thought he had gone blind. Only after steadying himself did he clearly see nine suns hanging high above him.

The suns cast down a blazing light.

Golden radiance flowed across the earth.

Heaven and Earth became a furnace, all creation its fuel.

He felt no heat. Vaguely, he sensed that within this seemingly dazzling sunlight lurked an an obscure, dim, ash-like, unseen blackness.

He wanted to dispel this darkness cloaked in light.

So he stared at the suns, instinctively reaching for his waist.

He found nothing there.

The suns began to fall, accompanied by the raucous cries of golden crows.

He couldn't distinguish between illusion and reality; he only knew he was dying. Suddenly, something light and hazy, like a woman's sleeve, covered his eyes. He couldn't see clearly, nor did he know who the woman was, but he felt it must be a very beautiful scene.

In the snow-covered gorge, the pitter-patter of rain began to sound.

It was a cloud that had flown from beyond the heavens, crossing high mountains and vast seas, arriving above his head and pouring down celestial dew like agar and jade.

The cloud was only as large as his clothes, so this rain fell solely for him.

Dusk arrived, followed by night.

The rain fell all night.

Dawn light surged from the horizon, engulfing the snow gorge like a tide.

Ning Changjiu opened his eyes.

He wasn't dead... he pulled himself back from the prolonged dream.

True Lord Baihe's corpse was already severely decomposed.

He gripped his sword, pulled it from the crevice in the ground, and ignited it with sword-fire, incinerating True Lord Baihe's corpse until nothing remained.

He wasn't sure how he had survived.

He touched his bare shoulders; the injuries were still there, covered in scars. Yet, his shoulders and back were clean, the grime and blood washed away by the rain, as if someone had clung to him and wept.

Ning Changjiu stood rooted to the spot, silent for a long time.

He spent some time orienting himself, then walked towards one end of the snow gorge.

He walked for a long time, from dawn until dusk. Finally, he left the wilderness, and faint sounds of horse hooves reached his ears.

On the mountain road, a brightly lit carriage approached him.

"Are you taking passengers?" Ning Changjiu asked, his voice a little hoarse.

The coachman, seeing his bare torso covered in horrifying scars, was so frightened his teeth chattered, unable to speak.

Ning Changjiu pulled a silver ingot from somewhere, handed it to him, then calmly stepped into the carriage.

The coachman felt the silver ingot, bit it, and after a long moment, quietly asked, "Where is the guest headed?"

Ning Changjiu replied, "Anywhere. I just want to sit for a while."

The coachman respectfully said, "I'm on my way to pick up some relatives... they're a small opera troupe, and I need to take them to the capital. I can't really afford delays."

Ning Changjiu hummed in acknowledgment and said, "Go ahead."

The coachman hesitated, as if wanting to say something more.

Ning Changjiu said, "Don't worry, I'm a good person."

*You don't look like a good person at all,* the coachman thought to himself, but he didn't dare to question it. He whipped the horse, driving forward with his strange passenger.

Ning Changjiu leaned back in the bumpy carriage, closing his eyes to rest.

The coachman drove uneasily. After a while, the man's dry voice sounded again from inside the carriage: "Do you have any clothes?"

Ning Changjiu put on a light blue garment. It didn't fit well, but at least it covered his many injuries.

He rested the back of his head against the wooden wall of the carriage, quietly pondering something, seemingly dozing.

After a long time, he murmured, opening his eyes, "Master, who exactly are you?"

When he opened his eyes, he discovered that three more people had joined the carriage: an old man and two children, all seemingly ordinary. They were so unassuming that his spiritual sense hadn't even alerted him to their arrival.

The old man was pulling a box. The boy and girl, who looked about eleven or twelve, huddled to his left and right, their gazes filled with apprehension as they looked at Ning Changjiu.

Ning Changjiu took the initiative to speak, making small talk like an ordinary person. "Are you going to perform in a play?"

The old man, hearing his gentle tone, relaxed some of his wariness. He nodded and said, "The opera troupe in the city is short-handed, and I'm an old acquaintance of theirs, so I'm taking my two apprentices to lend a hand and give them some practice."

Ning Changjiu nodded, smiling. "Your two apprentices are both very promising, old sir."

Hearing this, the old man's mood brightened considerably, and his impression of this unexpected passenger improved.

"Are you a scholar?" the old man asked.

Ning Changjiu gently shook his head. "I haven't read any proper classical texts."

The old man looked at the wound on his neck and frowned.

Ning Changjiu chuckled. "I encountered a tiger in the mountains and fought it. I almost died."

"A tiger?" The little boy's eyes lit up. "How big was it, big brother? Are you a knight-errant?"

Ning Changjiu said, "Being able to kill a tiger doesn't necessarily make one a knight-errant. Hunters can also kill tigers."

The little boy earnestly retorted, "Then hunters are also knight-errants."

Ning Changjiu smiled, saying nothing.

The little girl's cough suddenly broke the silence. She had been quiet earlier, seemingly afraid of disturbing the young man, enduring the itch in her throat. Now, she let out a burst of coughs, bending over, her small face contorted in pain.

The old man looked at her and sighed.

The little boy quickly comforted her, "Don't worry, when we get to the city, Grandpa will take you to a good doctor, little sister. A cough isn't a serious illness; you'll definitely get better."

The little girl hummed forcefully, then coughed for a while longer.

Ning Changjiu glanced at the little girl and asked, "What will you be performing in the capital?"

The old man replied, "Plays aren't easy to stage these days. We perform whatever people like to watch. Recently, there's a new play, telling the story of the most popular young knight-errant."

"A young knight-errant?" Ning Changjiu asked.

The old man smiled. "Yes, it's about Zhang Jiu. His deeds and origins are widely circulated now. Many troupes have already started performing it. Our script was written slowly, so we need to hurry and rehearse, otherwise, once this wave of popularity passes, it'll be hard to earn money."

"Zhang Jiu..." Ning Changjiu mused for a moment, then shook his head. "I haven't heard much about him. What are his deeds?"

"Ah, how would old folks like us know about disciples from such immortal families and prestigious sects?" the old man said. "We just write about things like the emperor's golden carrying pole or the imperial concubine's white steamed bun, relying on these tales to amuse our patrons and earn a living."

Ning Changjiu said, "May I see the script?"

The old man didn't refuse, handing over the script. Ning Changjiu took it and flipped through, seeing that the stories written were all very cliché, appearing to be a template where only the protagonist's name had been erased and a new one substituted.

In this story, Zhang Jiu was born into a humble family, orphaned at a young age. He had a childhood sweetheart whom he later discovered was actually a dragon maiden who had descended to the mortal realm for training. She was eventually taken away by an evil dragon and returned to her own castle. Heartbroken, Zhang Jiu, to rescue her, pulled a peerless divine sword from before a Buddha statue in a temple, then traversed mountains and rivers to search for his childhood sweetheart.

In the story, he was extremely devoted.

Ning Changjiu pressed his lips together and smiled quietly for a moment.

"What's wrong?" the old man asked, watching his smile.

"It's well written," Ning Changjiu said. "But Zhang Jiu is perhaps a bit too devoted. On his journey to find her, he should really encounter a few more female confidantes to make the story more engaging and delightful."

The old man frowned. "Immortal couples are meant to fly together and stay by each other's side forever. What kind of talk is it to have three wives and four concubines? They're not like those filthy rich merchants and nobles of the mortal world."

Ning Changjiu was taken aback, then chuckled awkwardly. "You're right, old sir, you teach a good lesson."

As he spoke, the little girl started coughing again.

The old man comforted the little girl for a while, then put away the script. The carriage gradually entered the city, and the distant sounds of gongs and drums drifted into earshot. The old man, feeling the spirit of the opera, hummed a few lines.

Ning Changjiu asked, "What are you singing, sir?"

The old man said, "Just some worn-out mythological stories. Nothing particularly good."

Ning Changjiu smiled, then suddenly said, "I've arrived."

With that, he rolled up the curtain and stepped out. Before leaving, he reached out and gently patted the little girl's head.

When the little girl came to her senses, bewildered, the figure of the young man was already far away.

In the desolate wilderness, a white rainbow hung high. Ning Changjiu, stepping on the Sword Pavilion's sword, flew through the air at a speed much faster than when he arrived.

He looked at the sky.

Faintly, he seemed to see the clouds in his patch of sky being pulled aside, revealing a shimmering, glazed radiance behind them.

Ning Changjiu knew that was the Five Paths.

He had truly reached the pinnacle of the Purple Court, touching the threshold of that mysterious realm.

This was the place he had reached at sixteen years old in his previous life.

But Ning Changjiu believed he could go even further now.

It was just that True Lord Baihe had not been able to help him break through to the next realm.

He still lacked a crucial opportunity.

Half a month passed in the blink of an eye.

Ancient Spirit Sect.

Ning Xiaoling sat on the throne, wagging her nine fluffy, large tails, her form appearing both beautiful and majestic.

Her left paw clutched a small bamboo scroll, while her right paw held a book left by her senior brother, meticulously cross-referencing something.

Siming slowly walked in from outside the hall. Ning Xiaoling immediately tucked in her tails and sat up straight.

The weather was warming, and spring was in full bloom outside the window. Siming's attire also reflected the spring mood; she wore a thin, form-fitting robe, high-slit to reveal her long, slender jade legs. The entire gown was fastened by only two buckles at her right waist, with nothing else underneath, giving the impression it might burst open at any moment.

This was Siming's usual nightgown, which she often wore while moving between Lu Jiajia's and Ning Xiaoling's chambers.

Ning Xiaoling's ears turned red and her heart pounded; she didn't dare to look at her too much.

Siming asked, "How's the cross-referencing coming along?"

Ning Xiaoling said, "Almost done! I've checked everything against the list Senior Brother compiled. Hmm... there are still four of the furthest sects that haven't delivered yet, but they should arrive within a month."

Siming walked to her side, sat down gently, crossing her bare legs. She took the list, scanned it, and smiled. "These sects are surprisingly obedient. That's good; it will save us a lot of trouble."

Ning Xiaoling nodded vigorously. "With Sister Siming's renowned title as the Fourth Under Heaven, combined with Senior Brother's formidable reputation, I imagine they wouldn't dare to defy us... Sister and Senior Brother complement each other perfectly, neither can do without the other!"

Siming chuckled, rubbing her ear. "In these past two months, Xiaoling has certainly learned to be very obedient."

Ning Xiaoling blinked her bright, watery eyes and said, "I truly like you, Sister."

Siming stroked her soft fur and said, "Soon, Xiaoling will change back, and won't be a little fox for me to pet every day."

Ning Xiaoling secretly rejoiced, eagerly anticipating that day. Yet, she sincerely said aloud, "Though winter has passed, I will always be your warm little scarf around your neck, Sister."

Siming's eyes curved like a new moon. She looked at Ning Xiaoling and said, "Xiaoling is much more sensible than your master."

"Master..." Ning Xiaoling was too aggrieved to speak.

Master had truly been pitiful for the past half month.

If Senior Brother doesn't return soon...

As she pondered, Siming gently lifted Ning Xiaoling by the scruff of her neck and placed the fox-girl onto her own shoulder. Ning Xiaoling skillfully wrapped her arms around Siming's graceful neck, rubbing her fluffy face against Siming's peerless, immortal beauty. Then, she extended a paw and rested it on Sister Siming's tender, fragrant shoulder, kneading it with just the right amount of pressure.

Siming thoroughly enjoyed this feeling.

They strolled leisurely into the courtyard.

In the courtyard, Lu Jiajia was practicing her sword amidst the flourishing pear blossoms. She still wore clothes as white as snow, and her face was exquisitely beautiful.

Without stirring any spiritual energy, her sword light shimmered. On the pink wall, adorned with blooming pear blossoms, Lu Jiajia's graceful, slender silhouette shifted and transformed, dancing elegantly as if ready to ride the wind and ascend, imbued with an otherworldly aura.

Siming watched, her expression somewhat entranced.

Lu Jiajia stopped her sword dance, paused, and looked towards Siming, saying a little awkwardly, "Good morning, Sister Xueci."

Siming nodded gently. "Jiajia, your sword skills are becoming more beautiful by the day. I imagine your entry into the Five Paths is just around the corner."

Lu Jiajia replied, "Sister, you flatter me. I still have a lot of practice ahead."

Siming smiled faintly. "There's no need to be modest, younger sister."

Lu Jiajia looked at the little fox on Siming's shoulder, bit her lip, her gaze flickering, and whispered, "I woke up a bit late recently, and my room isn't tidy yet. I've already practiced my sword, so I'll go straighten up my room first."

Siming asked, "Why clean the room? Is it because you think your 'villain of a husband' is returning, so you're preparing the bed for him?"

Lu Jiajia's cheeks flushed slightly. She shot Siming a glare and said, "What nonsense are you talking about, Sister?"

With that, she turned and left, as if in a huff.

"Don't go."

Siming quickly caught her.

She didn't grab her hand; instead, she reached through the lower part of her skirt and grasped something—a tail, hidden beneath the snow-white gown.