Zhu Xian: They've all been reborn

Ghost King Sect, Council Hall.

The candlelight flickered, casting long and short shadows on the wall. A faint fragrance filled the air—sandalwood mixed with the stench of blood.

Ghost King Wanren sat in the main seat, tapping his fingers on the armrest slowly, one tap at a time.

He looked at Biyao standing in the hall. Biyao was nine years old, wearing a light green dress, with her hair combed into two buns, and her eyes shining like stars.

But those eyes lacked the innocence a child of that age should have. They were only deep and profound, like two wells, their bottoms unfathomable.

Xiao Chi sat beside her, clutching a handkerchief tightly in her hand. She looked at Bi Yao, her eyes filled with worry, doubt, and a... indescribable emotion. When did her daughter become like this?

"Yao'er," the Ghost King spoke, his voice as deep as stone, "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Biyao said, her voice crisp, but each word like a nail driven into the ground.

"I've memorized the first volume of the Heavenly Book. The stone wall is inside the mountain; I've marked it so I can retrieve it anytime."

The Ghost King fell silent.

He stared at Biyao for a long time. This daughter had been clever since childhood, but to this extent?

To be able to go to Mount Kongsang alone (although Youji was with him), find the Dripping Blood Cave, obtain the Hehuan Bell, and memorize the first volume of the Heavenly Book—that's not intelligence, that's prodigious talent.

"How did you know the Blood-Dripping Cave was there?" Xiao Chi couldn't help but ask, her voice trembling slightly. "How did you know there was a secret book inside?"

Biyao turned her head to look at her mother. Xiaochi's face was a little pale in the candlelight, and her eyes were glistening with tears. Biyao felt a pang of sadness, but her face remained expressionless.

"I dreamt about it," she said calmly. "I had the same dream many times, and then I passed away."

"In a dream?" Xiao Chi's voice trembled even more. "Yao'er, you..."

"Mother," Biyao interrupted her, took two steps forward, stood in front of Xiaochi, looked up at her, and asked, "Do you believe me?"

Xiao Chi looked at her, at those eyes. So deep, so profound, as if they held so much. She reached out and touched Bi Yao's face, her fingers trembling slightly.

"I believe you," she said softly. "Of course I believe you."

Biyao smiled. It was a faint smile, but her eyes shone with light. She turned to the Ghost King: "Father, there's one more thing."

"Speak," said the Ghost King.

"Next year," Biyao said, enunciating each word clearly, "we will gather the elite of the entire sect and head to Caomiao Village, fifty li northwest of Heyang City, at the foot of Qingyun Mountain."

The Ghost King's finger stopped. He stared at Biyao, his eyes narrowing: "Grass Temple Village? What for?"

"The Bloodthirsty Bead," Biyao said. "The Bloodthirsty Bead is located there."

The council chamber fell silent. A candle crackled and sparked.

Qinglong stood behind the Ghost King, dressed in black with a black face, his expression unreadable. Youji stood beside Biyao, her hands on her waist, ready to strike at any moment.

"Bloodthirsty Beads?" The Ghost King repeated the three words, his voice devoid of emotion. "Are you sure?"

"It's confirmed," Biyao said. "Monk Puzhi will take the Bloodthirsty Bead to Grass Temple Village, and Cangsong... will go too."

The Ghost King's pupils contracted slightly. Puzhi, one of the four great monks of Tianyin Temple. Cangsong, the head monk of Longshou Peak of Qingyun Sect.

These two people, a righteous high monk and a righteous leader, would both appear in a small village at the same time? And they even carry the Bloodthirsty Bead?

"Where did the news come from?" the Ghost King asked, lowering his voice.

"In my dreams." Biyao repeated those two words.

The Ghost King fell silent.

He looked at Biyao for a very long time. The candlelight flickered on his face, its light shifting uncertainly.

He recalled the changes in Biyao over the past six months, her sudden improvement in cultivation, the Hehuan Bell she had taken out, and the first volume of the Heavenly Book she had recited.

This is not a dream. This is absolutely not a dream.

But he didn't ask. Some things, you can't get the answer from asking. And some things, knowing the answer, can make things worse.

"Okay." He finally spoke, tapping his fingers on the armrest again. "Next year, let's go to Caomiao Village."

Biyao breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't sure her father would believe her, but he did. That was enough.

"Father," she said again, "I want to go with you."

The Ghost King looked at her but didn't say anything.

"I want to go," Biyao repeated, her voice firm. "I want to see it with my own eyes."

The Ghost King was silent for a moment, then nodded: "Okay. But you have to stay by my side and you're not allowed to run around."

"Yes." Biyao nodded and turned to leave.

"Yao'er," Xiao Chi called out to her.

Biyao turned around.

Xiao Chi stood up, walked to her, squatted down, and looked at her. Her eyes were red, as if she was about to cry.

"Be careful," she said, her voice soft and hoarse. "You must be careful."

Biyao felt a pang of sadness and nodded, "I know."

She turned and walked out of the council chamber. You Ji followed behind her like a shadow.

Only the Ghost King and Xiao Chi remained in the hall. The candlelight flickered, casting their shadows intertwined on the wall.

"Wanrenwang," Xiao Chi said, her voice trembling slightly, "Yao'er, she..."

"I know," the Ghost King interrupted her, his voice deep. "She's hiding something from us."

"and you……"

"But she is still our daughter," the Ghost King said, standing up, walking to the window, looking at the dark sky outside. "That's enough."

Xiao Chi fell silent. She walked to the Ghost King's side and took his hand. His hand was cold, like stone.

"She'll be alright, right?" Xiao Chi asked, her voice trembling with tears.

The Ghost King didn't answer. He looked at the sky for a long time, then said, "I will protect her."

Outside the window, the wind blew, carrying the chill of late autumn. In the distance came the cawing of crows, a harsh and unpleasant cawing.

A year is neither a long nor a short time.

Jiang Xiaochuan is twelve years old now. He's grown a bit taller, his face is thinner, and his features have matured.

The Jade Purity Realm has three levels, and it's still three levels. It's like I'm stuck; I just can't get up there.

He still chopped bamboo and practiced his martial arts every day, but his mind wasn't on it. He was always thinking about Grass Temple Village, about those who were going to die, and about Zhang Xiaofan and Lin Jingyu.

Xiao Bai agreed to help him, but he was still worried. Xiao Bai was a powerful nine-tailed celestial fox, but Pu Zhi and Cang Song were no pushovers either. What if… he didn't dare to think about it.

Tian Ling'er has become even more clingy to him these past few months.

Like a shadow, wherever he went, she went. He chopped bamboo, and she watched from the side. He practiced his martial arts, and she accompanied him. He ate, and she served him food. He went to the outhouse… and she waited outside.

Jiang Xiaochuan knew what she was afraid of: he was afraid she would secretly go down the mountain.

He didn't say anything, and she pretended not to know. The two of them just kept at it, one on guard, the other enduring.

Lu Xueqi didn't come. She didn't show up for several days. Jiang Xiaochuan went to the back mountain to wait for her, one day, two days, three days. She didn't come. He asked the disciples of Xiaozhu Peak, who said that Senior Sister Lu was in seclusion.

Jiang Xiaochuan felt a void in his heart. He was used to Lu Xueqi coming, used to watching her land on her sword, used to listening to her talk about cultivation, and used to eating the snacks she brought. Now that she wasn't coming, he always felt that something was missing.

But he didn't have time to think about it. The matter of Caomiao Village weighed heavily on his heart, growing heavier each day.

That night, he lay in bed, unable to sleep. Xiao Bai lay beside his pillow, eyes closed, but ears perked up, as if listening to something.

"Xiao Bai," Jiang Xiaochuan said softly, "tomorrow, I feel like it's tomorrow."

Xiao Bai opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Be careful," Jiang Xiaochuan said. "If you can't beat them, run away. Don't try to fight them head-on."

Xiao Bai didn't say anything, but rested her head on his hand and rubbed against it.

As Jiang Xiaochuan stroked its fur, the panic and confusion in his heart gradually subsided.

He thought, "Little White is a nine-tailed celestial fox, she's lived for countless years, she must be a formidable fighter. Shouldn't... be alright?"

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to sleep. But he couldn't. His mind was filled with images of Grass Temple Village, blood, and fire. He tossed and turned until dawn before finally drifting off to sleep.

At the foot of the mountain lies Caomiao Village.

The sky was terribly overcast, with dark clouds hanging low as if they were about to collapse. The wind was strong, swirling with sand and dust, making it hard to open one's eyes. In the distance, thunder rumbled, like the beating of drums.

Under the old locust tree at the village entrance stood a man. He was dressed in black, his face masked, only his eyes visible. His eyes were cold, like ice. He looked up at the sky, at the dark clouds, at the lightning, a smile playing on his lips.

The monk Puzhi arrived. He walked steadily from the west end of the village, his hands twirling prayer beads. He stopped in front of the thatched temple, looking at the door. The door was old, the paint peeling off, revealing the wood underneath. He pushed the door open, went inside, sat cross-legged, and closed his eyes.

The wind blew in, making the incense ash on the offering table fly up like snowflakes.

The man in black moved. Like a ghost, he silently drifted to the outside of the thatched temple and hid behind the wall. He made hand gestures and chanted incantations. Black mist emanated from his body, gathering and thickening like ink, like the night.

The thunder grew closer. A bolt of lightning struck, illuminating half the sky. It also illuminated the thatched temple, Puzhi's face, and the exposed eyes of the man in black.

Puzhi opened his eyes. He sensed it—the black aura, the evil energy. He stood up, walked to the temple entrance, and looked west. In the village to the west, black energy soared into the sky.

His expression changed. He knew what it was—the Blood Poison Banner. An evil artifact forged from the lives of three hundred people.

He rushed out, heading straight for the black mist. His robe fluttered in the wind like a flag.

The man in black laughed. It was a cold, sinister laugh. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

The black mist swirled up and swirled towards Puzhi. Puzhi raised his hand, and his prayer beads lit up, radiating a brilliant golden light.

The black mist and golden light collided, emitting a piercing shriek. The wind grew stronger, the thunder louder, and the rain began to fall, large raindrops pounding the ground and creating craters.

Inside the thatched temple, Zhang Xiaofan woke up. He rubbed his eyes and sat up.

There was thunder outside, very loud. He was a little scared, so he got up, wanting to go find his parents.

As he reached the temple gate, he saw black mist and golden light clashing in the sky. He froze, mouth agape, forgetting to run.

Lin Jingyu also woke up. He was brave and ran to the door to see what was happening. He saw the monk Puzhi fighting with a cloud of black energy. He was terrified and turned to run towards the village.

Puzhi saw it. He saw the black mist swirling towards Lin Jingyu, and he rushed over, tucking Lin Jingyu under his arm.

The black mist caught up and tore off a piece of his robe. He landed, looked up at the sky, and his face was very pale.

"The Blood Poison Banner," he said, his voice deep. "You wretched creature, how dare you cultivate such a heinous and wicked thing that brings ruin to the world."

A hoarse laugh echoed from within the black mist: "You old bald monk, prepare to die!"

A brilliant crimson light shone forth, and a two-zhang-long (approximately 6.6 meters) red banner rose from the black mist. A mournful, piercing wail arose.

A grotesque face emerged from the red banner, triangular with four eyes, sharp teeth and fangs, and lunged at Puzhi.

Puzhi formed a hand seal, conjuring a golden Dharma wheel. The golden light collided with the ghost face, resulting in a stalemate.

Just then, he felt a sharp pain in his wrist. Looking down, he saw a colorful centipede had bitten him. A seven-tailed centipede, known for its extraordinary venom.

His vision went black, and the Falun swayed precariously. Taking advantage of the moment, the ghostly face pounced and struck him in the chest. He was sent flying, crashing through the wall of the thatched temple, and fell to the ground, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"Hahahaha..." the man in black laughed wildly, "Bald monk Puzhi, hand over the Bloodthirsty Pearl!"

Puzhi stood up, trembling, black blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He looked at the man in black, and at the seven-tailed centipede crawling back into the black mist. He gave a bitter laugh: "I have the character 'Zhi' in my name, yet I didn't know you came for this thing."

He snapped the prayer beads in two, and a dozen or so beads floated in the air, shimmering with a bluish light. Only one deep purple bead fell down, which he caught and held in his hand. That was the Bloodthirsty Bead.

"Om Mani Padme Hum!"

The Six-Syllable Mantra of Great Compassion. The jade prayer beads shone brightly, and one syllable after another flew out, striking the ghost's face. The ghost howled and retreated, its final long howl turning it into blood.

Puzhi coughed up another mouthful of blood, this time black. The seven-tailed centipede's venom had already reached his heart.

The man in black descended from the black mist, his body shrouded in black robes, obscuring his face. He drew his sword, its blade clear as autumn water, bright yet not dazzling.

"A fine sword," Puzhi said.

The man in black sneered, stepping on the Seven Stars and pointing his sword at the heavens.

"The Nine Heavens Mysterious Temple transforms into divine thunder. Its majestic heavenly power is drawn forth by the sword!"

Dark clouds churned, thunder rumbled. Lightning flashed along the edges of the black clouds, the atmosphere was grim, and a fierce wind howled.

Puzhi's face turned deathly pale: "Divine Sword Thunder Control Technique! You're actually a disciple of the Qingyun Sect!"

In the distance, behind an old tree, Lu Xueqi held her breath.

She's been here for three days. Hiding outside Caomiao Village, waiting. Waiting for Puzhi, waiting for Cangsong.

With her Jade Purity Eighth Level cultivation and her memories from her past life, she was confident she could stop the heavily injured Puzhi. But she didn't expect Cangsong to use the Divine Sword Lightning Control Technique.

That's a secret technique of the Qingyun Sect. If Cangsong uses it, it's tantamount to revealing his identity.

She gripped the Tianya sword tightly, her knuckles turning white. She was waiting, waiting for the moment when Cangsong was injured by Puzhi. At that moment, she would strike, capture Cangsong, and force him to reveal the truth.

But she was also worried. Worried that she couldn't stop him. Worried that Puzhi would die from the poison. Worried... whether Jiang Xiaochuan would come.

Unbeknownst to her, not far behind her, on another tree, Master Shuiyue was also holding his breath.