novelraw Chapter 87 : In the Mist
Chapter 87 : In the Mist
Chapter 87: In the Mist
The familiar street, the familiar scenery.
Everything seemed no different from one thousand and seven hundred years ago.
The illusory spirits brushed past Lu Changyuan, as though he were the only living being in the entire Nether Kingdom moving against the flow.
Before long, a cluster of red other-shore flowers suddenly appeared ahead.
It seemed yet another unfortunate soul had failed to find shelter and perished in this night.
Lu Changyuan circled around the other-shore flowers and continued forward. Not far ahead stood a building resembling a tavern. According to that spirit’s account, Mei Zhao Zhao was likely living in the small house just behind it.
“Hmm?”
Before Lu Changyuan even drew near, he heard fierce commotion from within.
Taking two more steps, the door of the house suddenly flew past his ear and shot off into the distance.
What happened?
From the darkness, a humanoid creature drenched in blood crawled out.
It moved on all fours, posture twisted like a lizard’s, its nails having grown into long, sharp claws that gleamed faintly in the dark.
Most horrifying of all, the sharp tip of one claw was skewering a woman’s severed head—her long hair hanging down, still dripping blood.
“Xiao Hai?”
Lu Changyuan frowned.
“Be careful!”
A black-robed Mei Zhao Zhao leaned against the doorway, clutching her wounded right shoulder with her left hand.
She herself did not quite understand what had happened.
Just moments ago, Xiao Hai’s blood and qi had surged chaotically before he suddenly erupted in violence. Caught unprepared, Wang Lian was killed instantly by Xiao Hai, and then Xiao Hai’s own body had exploded—blood bursting through his skin, dyeing him into the blood-soaked creature he now was.
Lu Changyuan said coldly, “What happened?”
The pain in Mei Zhao Zhao’s shoulder was severe. She gritted her teeth and shook her head. “This humble woman does not know. He seemed to have gone mad—his strength now boundless, truly terrifying.”
Lu Changyuan raised Severed Thought; he had not forgotten his purpose in coming. “Miss Mei, where is Xiao Qingfeng’s memorial tablet?”
“Just now, while this humble woman was fighting Xiao Hai—Xiao Hai ate it!”
Xiao Hai suddenly lunged forward. Lu Changyuan met him head-on, yet the collision forced him back half a step.
A cultivator who had once been only at the First Realm now possessed inhuman strength—so much that even Lu Changyuan gained no advantage.
Just as Lu Changyuan prepared to raise his sword and strike again, countless black spirits emerged from the surrounding shadows. They were clad in armor, twisting grotesquely as they closed in.
Su Youwan had not yet finished saying “Be careful,” when Lu Changyuan had already vanished. She could only sigh softly, then obediently closed the door and returned to the bed.
She merely needed to wait here for Lu Changyuan to return.
Silver needles formed in her hand. Then, raising her hand slightly, Su Youwan threaded the needle through the invisible threads of fate only she could see.
After a long while, the silver-haired girl pinched her own face, her red pupils devoid of emotion. “Left Guardian of the Sun-Moon Palace, Su Wu Xiang. Right Guardian, Lu Changyuan.”
She murmured softly, repeating it again: “Right Guardian Lu Changyuan—never thought he would have the appearance of a young man.”
By Su Youwan’s standards, Lu Changyuan was indeed rather handsome.
Appearance was not of great importance among cultivators—most were beautiful or handsome, yet one this striking was rare.
The last time she had seen someone so pleasing to the eye was likely her own master.
Su Youwan could not help but think—cultivation, in the end, reduced all beings to lifeless skeletons. Beautiful shells without spirit—unlike Lu Changyuan, who was interesting.
Then she suddenly realized something: what she found interesting about Lu Changyuan was precisely his mortal-like nature.
Mortals needed food and sleep; in summer, they shed clothes when hot; in winter, they added layers when cold.
Lu Changyuan seemed the same—especially his excellent quality of sleep.
Could that, too, be a form of cultivation?
Thinking of Lu Changyuan, Su Youwan felt an inexplicable calm, as if watching butterflies flutter in the spring air, or soft feathers drifting through clouds and finally taking on color.
It was like tasting sesame candy she had loved as a child—memories rising within her heart, spreading like clouds, melting into sweetness.
It was a feeling difficult to describe.
Perhaps it was called—
Red Dust?
Su Youwan suddenly thought of her master.
Since entering Cihang Palace at the age of seven, she had cultivated under her master’s patient, hand-on-hand guidance. When she finally chose her destined Heavenly Dao, her master stopped interfering—telling her instead to see the Red Dust for herself.
She had seen many people, witnessed all the forms of life within the Glazed Dynasty—yet none of it had moved her deeply.
In Su Youwan’s eyes, the world could be divided simply into: black, white, those she should manage, and those she should not.
Essentially, it was merely ensuring that cultivators did not oppress mortals.
Many called her the “Bodhisattva of Supreme Forgetfulness.”
But that was not true.
Su Youwan never thought herself such a Bodhisattva; she was merely someone who had given her all to seek the Dao.
After fifteen years of cultivation, she had grown weary of her Daoist robe. Wherever she went, people would respectfully call her, “Little Ancestor of Cihang Palace.”
The lotus crown, the blindfold, the birdcage—all had become her symbols. She was unaccustomed to such things, nor to those reverent voices. If possible, she wished to retreat into the deep mountains and forests to cultivate, free from worldly affairs.
Her master had once said, “Heaven’s Dao is not the Dao of humankind—but you may become humankind’s destined Heavenly Dao.”
Su Youwan did not understand this.
Her master had also said, “The Red Dust lies before your eyes. If you can see it, it is the Red Dust. If you cannot, it is the Supreme.”
That, too, she had not understood.
No—
Lately, she understood a little.
Perhaps the Red Dust was not limited to the mortal realm.
Think about it—
The Red Dust is whatever makes you feel alive. That is the Red Dust.
After giving up her search for the Red Dust, the silver-haired girl had found something that might become it.
And only recently had Su Youwan realized—
A man’s cheek was warmer than a woman’s, his hand larger—just enough to cover her small head.
Moreover, when a man slept, he could warm the bed; unlike her, who found the blankets cold even after a night’s sleep.
Once married, she would have a man to warm her bed.
Su Youwan could not help but think this.
Clang, clang.
The cage not far away suddenly trembled violently, almost falling to the floor. Su Youwan glanced over, her painted brows faintly furrowing.
“No.”
The silver-haired girl spoke softly.
She stepped down from the bed and drew aside the black cloth.
What Lu Changyuan had seen before was different—inside the cage was a lovely bird, pure white feathers sleek and smooth, but with red eyes.
The bird in the cage—this was also her.
So when Lu Changyuan had asked what was inside the cage, she had answered, “Inside is Youwan.”
The bird, seeing her, seemed delighted, hopping about and chirping cheerfully.
All was well.
“Be good. You still cannot come out—perhaps in a few more years.”
Unless she attained the Seventh Realm, Jade Radiance, the emotions within the cage could never be released.
Bang, bang, bang.
Someone was knocking at the door.
Who? Had Young Master Lu returned?
Su Youwan quickly covered the cage once more.
Darkness swallowed her emotions again. Naturally, she did not see that on the bird’s pure white feathers, a faint trace of red had begun to spread.