Chương 103: 1.101 In which there are revelations and suffering~

"You know, I've been meaning to ask, but why is there music?" Ning asked. That was somehow the first thing his mind chose to focus on, which probably said something deeply concerning about his priorities.

The deepest chamber of the Heavenly Origin Tower was still trembling from the aftermath of the attack; Ning had barely enough spiritual energy left to keep himself conscious, and at the center of the chamber, both Xiao Fan and Lei Shen lay motionless with their hearts pierced through by the arrow Ning had spent nearly everything he had to create. And yet, there was music. More importantly, it wasn't bad.

The melody had begun solemnly, but somewhere during the battle it had swelled into something almost heroic, with deep drums, distant bells, and some string instrument Ning couldn't identify weaving together into a surprisingly powerful rhythm. Maybe this really is boss-battle music, Ning thought as his legs finally gave out beneath him. He dropped onto the stone floor with a tired groan. The day had not been kind to him.

Beside him, the Tower Spirit's tiny translucent form flickered, still maintaining the last remnants of the guiding seal it had placed upon Ning's arrow. For several seconds, it simply stared at him as though uncertain it had heard correctly.

"What?"

"The music," Ning repeated. He coughed, tasted blood, and swallowed it rather than waste the effort of spitting.

"Why is there music playing in the background?"

"Ning, is now truly the time to discuss music?" the spirit sputtered, its tiny hands flailing in disbelief.

"You just killed your friend!" Ning blinked before turning toward the center of the chamber. Xiao Fan lay completely motionless, the wound through his chest leaving very little room for ambiguity.

"Oh. Right." The Tower Spirit's expression softened slightly.

"I should double-tap him and make sure he stays dead."

"... What?" Ning forced himself back onto his feet and trudged toward the two bodies. He grabbed Xiao Fan by the shoulder and slowly dragged him away from Lei Shen before crouching beside him. Just as he was considering how to dispose of the corpse, his eyes caught sight of something tucked inside Xiao Fan's robes. Ning pulled it free. It was a single Fire Ignite Talisman His fire ignite talisman. He stared at it for several seconds before looking down at Xiao Fan.

"You really don't know how to fight using a pay-to-win method, do you?" Before the fight, Ning had given Xiao Fan several talismans and other miscellaneous items precisely because there was no point hoarding resources when they were about to fight for their lives. Yet from the memories the guiding seal had shared with him, Ning had seen exactly what happened when Xiao Fan tried to use them. The guy had fumbled terribly.

There had been one particularly painful moment where Xiao Fan tried to activate a talisman while dodging Lei Shen, nearly dropped it, sent qi through the wrong section, corrected himself, and then apparently decided that relying on the dozens of seals the Tower Spirit had slapped onto his body was considerably easier. Ning had watched the whole thing through the seal. It had hurt him on a spiritual level.

"External objects are part of your strength too, you know," Ning muttered as he stood and activated the talisman Xiao Fan had so thoughtfully preserved for him. Flames erupted over Lei Shen's corpse. The corpse burned in the background as Ning sat down, exhausted.

"Well, at least there's warmth now."

"I'd say it's good to be cautious, but I feel like you shouldn't drag your friend's corpse around like that," the Tower Spirit said, clearly out of patience.

"You should be mourning your friend's heroic sacrifice." Ning considered that with all the gravity his exhausted mind could manage.

"Then maybe we should change it to sad music."

"No!"

"Too soon?" Ning asked.

"You're the one who started playing background music in the first place." The Tower Spirit opened its mouth, closed it again, and finally sighed. Clearly, Ning wasn't going to let this go until he received an answer.

"This isn't background music," it said irritably.

"It's spiritual resonance produced by the Seal of Ten Thousand Melodies. I used it to strengthen Xiao Fan's morale and help stabilize his mind while he held Lei Shen in place." Seal of Ten Thousand Melodies? There really was a seal for everything. The more Ning learned about the Art of Seals, the more ridiculous it seemed. A seal could perform functions comparable to formations, yet could be prepared and activated with the convenience of a talisman.

Some could even be placed directly upon a cultivator's body, granting effects almost like pills or techniques. It was the whole damn package.

"Was this another seal the Founder used regularly?" Ning asked. If so, Ning had to admit the man had excellent taste. Whatever else could be said about Li Changsou, the Founder apparently knew how to choose a soundtrack.

"Naturally." The Tower Spirit immediately straightened, its tiny chest puffing out with pride.

"The glorious Founder frequently accompanied his battles with music. His grace was transcendent, his rhythm unmatched! During the Battle of Black Wind Ridge, it is recorded that he composed an entire battle hymn while suppressing three demonic elders with one hand. With every note, a mountain cracked, and with every beat, a skull-""Senior, you're spiraling again." The Tower Spirit stopped.

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Almost apologetically, the music softened along with it. Ning's eyes narrowed. Wait. Was the seal actually adjusting the music to match the mood? That was ridiculously unnecessary. He wanted one so bad. Ning committed that particular thought to memory before his gaze finally returned to Xiao Fan's motionless body. The humor slowly faded from his expression, and after a moment, he let out a long breath.

"Wake up, will you, Xiao Fan?" Ning said suddenly.

"What are you talking about? You're the one who shot him dead." The Tower Spirit blinked. Did this kid really forget what happened after a traumatic event? The Founder had said that was a kind of inner demon like that. Xiao Fan didn't move.

"Ning..." The Tower Spirit hesitated before speaking with unusual gentleness.

"People die when they are killed."

"Nuh-uh." The Tower Spirit stared at him. Ning stared back with absolute conviction. Xianxia protagonists didn't die when they were killed. You could kill them, burn the corpse, scatter the ashes, seal the ashes inside an ancient artifact, throw that artifact into the endless void, and then use some heaven-defying technique to erase every remaining trace of their existence from the river of time.

Ning would still give it fifty-fifty odds that three hundred chapters later, the bastard would crawl out of a spatial crack with white hair, a new bloodline, and amnesia. Compared to that, Xiao Fan merely having a hole through his heart was practically a minor inconvenience. For him, it was just a flesh wound at best. Feeling no response from Xiao Fan, Ning continued anyway.

"As expected of Xiao Fan."

"What?" The Tower Spirit was beginning to seriously worry about the mental state of the only other Qi Condensation disciple it had dragged into this entire ordeal. Perhaps it really should repent later.

"He really can solve anything with a heart-to-heart, even with an enemy." The Tower Spirit stared at him for a moment before realizing what he meant. Its expression immediately twisted.

"That's cruel, even for you!" Genuine offense entered its voice.

"Your friend just sacrificed himself to hold down a possessed Purple Mansion elder so you could land that shot, and now you decide to make jokes about the hole in his heart?" Ning's expression turned solemn. He nodded slowly, as though truly taking the criticism to heart, then turned toward Xiao Fan's body, lowered his voice to something suitably dramatic, and said, "Xiao Fan. Your sacrifice will not be in vain." The spirit froze.

Ning tried to place a hand over his own heart and immediately regretted it, since his ribs still had strong opinions about movement. He settled for looking mournfully at the ceiling instead.

"Though your body has fallen, your spirit shall live on in our hearts. In the annals of heroic idiots who grabbed possessed enemies mid-battle for the greater good, your name shall sit somewhere very near the top. I will remember your bravery, your righteousness-""Shut up, both of you," a hoarse voice snapped from the center of the chamber. Ning stopped. The Tower Spirit stopped. Even the music seemed to falter.

"Ah, a zombie!" the Tower Spirit blurted. Zombies were corpses reanimated by corpse refiners. While they retained some of the abilities they had in life, they possessed neither a true will nor a true mind. Xiao Fan pushed himself upright from the ground, a clean hole torn through his robe and blood soaking his chest where his heart most definitely should have stopped beating. Yet it hadn't. Ning merely shot the Tower Spirit a smug glance.

"See?" he said.

"Didn't I tell you this guy was alive?" If nothing else, Ling Xin had taught Ning how to be insufferably smug. The Tower Spirit shot forward, circling Xiao Fan in open disbelief.

"How? How are you still breathing? I felt your heart give out! The arrow went straight through it." Xiao Fan's expression stiffened.

"Ah." Ning narrowed his eyes. It was clear the protagonist hadn't thought this far ahead. Xiao Fan looked pointedly away.

"I may have eaten a revival herb. Or something equivalent to that. Yes, that's right, it was dark when I ate it, so I can't describe what it looked like." The chamber went quiet. Xiao Fan nodded firmly to himself, as though repeating the lie with enough confidence might retroactively make it true.

"Yup, that's it." Ning studied him for a moment longer. The guilt was painfully obvious, but in this particular world, coming back to life after eating some miraculous herb wasn't even close to the strangest thing Ning had ever read about. The spirit's eyes narrowed with suspicion anyway.

"What herb? Can you describe it?"

"... I ate it quickly, since I was dying at the time. So I don't know the name."

"You consumed a priceless revival herb and didn't bother learning its name?" the Tower Spirit balked.

"I was a little busy dying," Xiao Fan retorted.

"That does sound like something you'd do," Ning agreed. Xiao Fan pointed weakly at him.

"You don't get to judge me. You're the one who shot me through the chest."

"Well, you did tell me to," Ning said.

"You didn't even hesitate, you bastard."

"I trusted you." Well, more like he trusted the plot armor and the cockroach durability, but potato, po-tah-to, same thing. Xiao Fan sighed. Why were all his friends so weird?

"Anyway. At least everything ended-" Behind them, Lei Dong's body moved. The sentence died in Xiao Fan's throat. The body Lei Shen had been possessing should have been finished. And yet it was rising now, not the way a normal person would stand, but like a puppet dragged upright by a string. Its head hung forward before the spine straightened with a series of ugly cracks, and blue light flooded the eyes, bright enough to drown out whatever remained of Lei Dong's own face underneath.

It looked especially horrifying because the flames had already charred the body, so the whole thing resembled something out of a horror movie. Ning's expression went blank. After this, Ning decided he was definitely going to teach Xiao Fan about Murphy. He'd just say there was once a Daoist named Mur Fi, cursed by the heavens, and teach him the principle about it because this was getting ridiculous.

"How dare you." The corpse's voice echoed through the chamber despite it lacking a mouth.

"How dare mere ants attempt to kill me?"

"Wha-" Before anyone could react, a crushing pressure descended upon them without warning. Ning felt it hit his knees first. His fingers barely managed to keep hold of his bow. Whatever spiritual energy he had left, and it wasn't much to begin with, folded flat. Xiao Fan wasn't faring any better. His golden qi flickered once and dimmed. Whatever had brought him back had restored his body, not his reserves, and his breathing had gone heavy and uneven.

"He's burning the last fragment of his Purple Mansion power," the Tower Spirit said, its translucent face tightening.

"Don't panic. His remnant soul is already collapsing, so he can't release it properly. He's using almost everything just to suppress you." Lei Shen's ruined jaw slowly opened. Blue-purple light gathered within. At first it was barely more than a spark, but the surrounding spiritual energy immediately began drifting toward it, feeding the glow little by little. The Tower Spirit's expression changed.

"... And he's charging something." Ning stared at the growing light.

"How long?"

"I don't know. In his current state, probably a while."

"That's reassuring." Ning snarked.

"I f I am going to die," Lei Shen growled, the light between his teeth growing steadily brighter,"then I will take you ants with me." Ning tried to move and discovered that his body barely listened. Even broken, burned, and clinging to the last remnants of his existence, Lei Shen still carried the pressure of something from an entirely different realm. They had managed to hurt him, but that didn't mean the gap between them had somehow disappeared. Ning glanced sideways.

"C-can you dodge that?" Xiao Fan's jaw was clenched so tightly the veins in his neck stood out.

"No. I'm completely spent."

"What about defensive treasures?" Xiao Fan let out a bitter laugh.

"I've got nothing left." Ning closed his eyes. Even with all his paranoia, he still hadn't brought enough trump cards.

"Do you have a storage bag?" he finally asked. Xiao Fan blinked at him.

"What?"

"Storage bag," Ning repeated.

"Do you have one?"

"I don't carry one nowadays." Ning's eyes narrowed.

"You don't carry one nowadays? The one thing essential to every cultivator?"

"I don't really need it. Anyway, I think we should worry more about how to survive." Ning wanted to have some words with Xiao Fan about that, but there was, unfortunately, a death beam charging six feet away.

"I have a way to avoid this," Ning said. Xiao Fan's expression sharpened immediately.

"What way?" Ning looked at him steadily, then suddenly dropped a bomb.

"I know you can take bloodline talents from beasts." Xiao Fan froze. The Tower Spirit froze right along with him. For a moment, even Lei Shen's charging beam seemed to matter slightly less.

"What do you mean? That's not possible. Do you know how outrageous that sounds?" Xiao Fan began to sweat.

"I heard what the Tower Spirit said during the fifth trial," Ning said. Xiao Fan turned slowly toward the spirit, who suddenly found something extremely interesting to look at on the far wall.

"You heard that?" Xiao Fan asked.

"But you were so far away, looking at something else entirely."

"You do know we cultivators have enhanced senses, right?" Ning said slowly, straining under the pressure.

"Plus, you admitting you don't use a storage bag was another clue." Xiao Fan went quiet. His deepest secret, and he'd let it slip so easily, or maybe it was simply that Ning was damn perceptive, noticing things no one else ever did. It took a special kind of mind to even consider that someone could steal the bloodline talent of another creature. Ning continued.

"I know that's one of the real reasons for your strength. That's fine. Everyone has a secret or two." His voice dropped, steadier now.

"But this is life and death. I don't think you can revive immediately. Can you?" Xiao Fan went quiet, and the silence answered the question better than words could have. [Nine Lives: A bloodline ability of the undying cat. It lets the cat return from death in perfect physical health nine times, but using it requires expending all the energy in one's body.] This was the bloodline ability that had saved him just now.

It had also, once, quietly repaired the defect in his own spiritual root that should have crippled his cultivation from the start. But it wasn't limitless. Each revival demanded three years to recharge before the next could be used, and right now he had nothing left in the tank. Ning read all of that on his face without needing to hear it out loud.

"You took the spatial ability off that rabbit we killed, didn't you?" Xiao Fan's expression shifted again.

"No need to deny it," Ning said.

"You always were a little too interested in beasts with bloodline abilities." Even amid the pressure, he lifted one trembling hand.

"I swear to heaven I won't reveal this to others unless it's a dire situation, and only with your permission, like now." Xiao Fan studied him for a breath. If anyone else had said those words to him, he would have been terrified; a talent like his wasn't just valuable, it was the kind of thing that got a person hunted and fought over depending entirely on who found out first. But this was Ning.

Sharp-tongued, suspicious, unreasonably cautious, annoying enough to argue with a dying man, and one of the very few people Xiao Fan genuinely believed wouldn't sell him out for it. Xiao Fan exhaled and nodded once.

"Yes." Ning immediately threw his own storage bag at him.

"Take everything inside. All of it." Xiao Fan caught it on reflex.

"What?"

"Pills, clothes, spirit stones, broken tools, notebooks, dried meat. Everything. Now." Xiao Fan didn't argue. He reached in, and one by one the contents vanished into the separate space he carried within his own body. Ning watched, his eyes flickering blue. So, this was the fabled cheat of Xiao Fan. He'd already gathered plenty of clues from the guy's obsession with demon cores, but now he understood the cheat was far greater than he'd imagined.

Ning made a quiet mental note that if he survived this, he was absolutely going to crash out about how sub-optimally this guy was using a cheat with this much potential. It was at that moment that Lei Shen's body convulsed. The blue-purple light behind his teeth compressed down into a single blinding point.

"Um, you two should probably focus on this attack," the Tower Spirit said tepidly.

"Lei Shen is burning everything he has left to hold this pressure on you. It's taking the surrounding spiritual energy to fire at you both. The energy is honestly pathetic given how long he's charged it, but it could still land like a blow from a late-stage Qi Condensation cultivator. In your current condition, that might be enough to kill you both."

"You can't do anything, can you? You really are useless." Xiao Fan couldn't help but say it. The Tower Spirit, despite technically being the spirit of a nascent soul artifact, had been fairly useless all this time.

"I'm sorry, okay, but I'm not designed for situations like this." The Tower Spirit could not escape the accusation.

"Are you sure whatever you're planning can stop that beam?" Xiao Fan asked. Ning nodded.

"Okay then." In truth, Xiao Fan wasn't all that worried about himself. With his body restored, he could probably survive the attack. The ones he was worried about were Ning and the Tower Spirit, both of whom were in far worse shape than he was. Lei Shen hissed,"DIE." The beam fired, narrow and merciless, a concentrated line of purple-blue destruction that fractured the air around it as it tore forward.

"Ning!" Xiao Fan's voice cracked with alarm. Ning forced his body to move. Only one hand cooperated. It was enough. He held up his now-empty storage bag.

"Xiao Fan," he said, eyes glowing blue and flickering, "today I'm going to teach you a different use for storage bags."

"What?"

"Besides swapping weapons mid-fight, they have another function." The beam closed the distance. Ning's spatial awareness sharpened past anything comfortable, that same absurd sensitivity that always made the world feel one layer too detailed, stretching now to its absolute limit. The beam disturbed everything around its path, dragging loose spiritual energy along in its wake, and his sense of time began counting down the interval to contact with a precision far sharper than seconds or breaths.

Too early, and the bag would reject the force or tear apart before swallowing enough of it to matter. Too late, and that was just game over. Ning smiled faintly despite everything.

"A storage bag," he said, "can also function as a one-time save technique."

"What?" Xiao Fan shouted, shocked. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. The beam arrived. Ning opened the bag at the exact instant it did, and for one heartbeat the world folded in on itself. The purple-blue light poured into the bag's mouth, and the whole thing bulged violently, storage runes screaming with light along its seams as the inner storage space began collapsing from the inside out. It swallowed the front of the beam anyway.

That was all Ning needed. He held onto the bag as if his life depended on it, which, in truth, it did.

"Xiao Fan!" Ning shouted over the tearing sound of the storage bag.

"What?!"

"I'll tell you my secret too!" The bag began to split apart at the seams." My talent is Know Thyself!" Ning threw away the storage bag just as it exploded. Ning and Xiao Fan were both thrown backward. The crushing pressure holding them in place vanished the instant the bag detonated. Ning hit the ground, rolled once, and simply didn't have the strength left to roll a second time. Xiao Fan crashed down beside him, groaned, and lay flat on his back staring at the ceiling.

For several long breaths, neither of them said a word. Smoke drifted lazily through the chamber. At the center of it, Lei Dong's corpse stood frozen, trembling violently, the blue light in its eyes flickering and beginning to fade. It looked at Ning, not with rage this time, but disbelief at the sheer absurdity of what it had just witnessed." You-"Its voice broke apart mid-word." You... you..." As it kept trying to force the word out, its body finally gave out and crumbled into ash. It was dead.

For several breaths, the deepest chamber was quiet. The Tower Spirit was the first to move. It flew toward the ritual seal at the center of the chamber and hurriedly examined the blood-red runes still pulsing across its surface. With Lei Shen finally gone, the formation's rhythm had become ragged and unstable, but for the first time that night, there was nothing actively fighting for control of it. Xiao Fan turned his head slightly.

"Ning."

"Hm?" Ning was still lying flat on the ground.

"What did you shout at the end?" Ning didn't move.

"My supernatural talent is Know Thyself."

"Why did you say that?"

"You told me your secret. So I told you mine. So you don't need to worry," Ning said.

"Wasn't going to, actually," Xiao Fan sighed. Ning simply hummed. Truthfully, he had thought it through. In his current situation, revealing Know Thyself carried very little risk. The sect had already seen him excel. People would inevitably start asking questions. Rather than letting wild theories spread, it was far better to hand them a believable explanation. A supernatural talent. One that let him understand himself perfectly. It was hardly enough to explain everything, but it could explain enough.

Xiao Fan had just entrusted him with the greatest secret. If Ning accepted that trust while refusing to reveal anything of his own, no matter how justified the reason, a seed of imbalance would inevitably be planted between them. Ning had no intention of revealing his true secret of being an otherworlder. But Know Thyself was one he could safely part with. It cost him little, answered many future questions, and, more importantly, reassured Xiao Fan that trust between them flowed both ways.

In Ning's eyes, that was a worthwhile trade.

"I can finally do the thing I was sent here to do," the Tower Spirit said aloud, thoroughly sick of the useless accusations. At the center of the chamber, the Tower Spirit gritted its teeth and pressed harder against the seal. Golden light spread from its tiny palms, and the blood-red glow fought back, the whole formation trembling as though two invisible hands were wrestling over the same thread. Bit by bit, the red lines faded through dull orange into pale gold.

"The ritual is finally back under my control!" the Tower Spirit cheered. Ning and Xiao Fan both visibly relaxed. For the next few minutes, they simply remained where they were, recovering what little strength they could. It was then that Ning's ear caught something. Music. Low at first, then rising, the same spiritual battle score from before, except it hadn't actually stopped. It was building again. Ning's face went blank.

He turned slowly toward the Tower Spirit, who was still absorbed in the ritual and hadn't noticed yet, and whispered, " Why? Why is the boss music still playing?"

"The what?" Then Xiao Fan's body convulsed. Purple light erupted beneath his skin, arching his body off the ground as veins of purple-black lightning crawled across his neck. His golden qi flared instinctively in resistance, only to be swallowed almost immediately by the sinister glow spreading from somewhere deep within him. Ning's eyes widened. He forced himself onto one elbow and hurriedly rolled a short distance away. The Tower Spirit spun around.

"No!" A laugh suddenly escaped Xiao Fan's mouth. It was weak and broken, barely more than a rasp, yet the hatred within it was unmistakable.

"Hahaha... You didn't truly think I would die simply because you killed me, did you?" Xiao Fan's fingers clawed against the stone. His features twisted as gold and purple flickered through his eyes, his own voice forcing its way through clenched teeth.

"Get... off me!"

"What I refined through all these years was never merely a ritual." Lei Shen's voice emerged again, stronger this time.

"My bloodline, my hatred, my soul... all of it was condensed into a Blood Infant, a final seed of myself. Even if the ritual failed and my vessel perished, so long as that seed remained, I would not truly disappear." Purple-black veins spread farther across Xiao Fan's body.

"And fortunately for me..." Lei Shen's laughter returned.

"This dumbass spent the final moments of the battle wrapped around my body. Planting the last fragment of my Soul Embryo onto him couldn't have been easier." Xiao Fan's eye twitched despite the possession.

"Oi! Who are you calling a dumbass?"

"You, obviously."

"You damned old bastard!" Lei Shen ignored him.

"My consciousness may be little more than a remnant now, but it is enough. Once I grind your soul away, this body will become mine, and everything you ants have done to me today will be repaid a hundredfold." Xiao Fan convulsed again. His eyes rapidly alternated between brilliant gold and sinister purple as two wills fought for control of the same body. The Tower Spirit rushed toward him, only to stop helplessly in midair.

"What do we do? The Blood Infant must have been concealed within the ritual itself. I didn't expect Lei Shen to leave something like this behind!" Ning bent forward, resting one hand on his knee while the other covered his face. His head hurt. So did the rest of him.

"First," he said, "turn off the damn music."

"What?" The Tower Spirit was aghast.

"Please..." Ning, at this point, was spent beyond anything words could express.

"Alright." The boss battle music finally cut off, and Ning took a deep breath. Ning closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

"Thank you."

"We need to do something quickly," the Tower Spirit said, turning anxiously toward Xiao Fan.

"Lei Shen is trying to seize his body. We can't simply attack him this time; whatever remains of Lei Shen is tangled directly with Xiao Fan's soul. If we aren't careful, we'll only end up hurting Xiao Fan along with him."

"How much time do we have?" Ning asked, hoping that with the formation being repaired, help might arrive soon.

"I'm not sure." Purple light surged again, and Xiao Fan slammed a fist into the ground, cracking stone, clearly fighting to hold his own body still. The Tower Spirit talked faster.

"Taking over someone's body reliably shouldn't be easy. From what I know, true possession is usually Nascent Soul territory. Lei Shen was only Purple Mansion. Whatever this blood infant method is, it's unorthodox; there has to be instability in it somewhere."

"But Lei Shen was still a Purple Mansion cultivator," Ning said.

"Yes. If Lei Shen fails to take over Xiao Fan's body, he may tear Xiao Fan's soul apart along with him." The Tower Spirit's face was grim. Ning took another deep breath.

"Fuck." Why did boss fights always need three fucking stages? The first stage had been Xiao Fan fighting Lei Shen head-on, showing growth, expanding his combat style into grappling instead of just hitting harder. The second stage had been Ning's own intervention, the combined arrow, the storage bag counter, the moment the supporting cast stepped forward and burned every trick they owned. And now came the third: a soul battle, which, annoyingly, made perfect narrative sense.

Ning had borrowed some of the spotlight during the second trial, but the core of this fight had always belonged to Xiao Fan. Xiao Fan convulsed again, purple light crawling toward his left eye, and gritted out, "Ning..." The Tower Spirit's tiny hands clenched.

"There must be something. The seal is still unstable, his soul is exposed, if we can weaken him, guide him out, sever the connection, anything-" Ning froze. [Soul Ferrying Scripture] So in the end, his true purpose here had finally arrived. Ning laughed hollowly. Then his eyes went clear. So be it. He stared at Xiao Fan for a moment, then turned slowly to the Tower Spirit.

"Does Lei Shen count as a ghost?"

"What?"

"Ghost. Spirit. Lingering soul. Resentful remnant. Dead cultivator with boundary issues. Pick whichever term you like." The spirit opened its mouth, closed it, and looked thoughtful despite everything.

"Strictly speaking, he could be called a ghost. He's remaining in the mortal world in soul form through obsession and an artificial blood infant method. Functionally, he resembles a resentful soul attempting possession."

"So, yes?"

"Probably."

"Good enough." Ning exhaled.

"I learned the Soul Ferrying Scripture." The spirit's eyes lit up.

"Great! Can you use it?"

"I've never successfully used it before." The light in its eyes dimmed slightly.

"That's less great."

"Still better than nothing." Ning took a deep breath. Xiao Fan's body shook again, purple light crawling further across his face, and Lei Shen's laugh echoed faintly beneath his skin. Ning closed his eyes. Maybe this really was it, the moment the side character helped the son of luck through the sheer power of friendship.

"Soul Ferrying Scripture," Ning murmured. The problem had never been memorizing the scripture. Ning had committed the words to memory within a day. Even the spiritual circulation wasn't particularly difficult; with Know Thyself, he could clearly feel the intended route, how qi gathered around the palms, passed through the heart, and finally converged near the forehead. Mechanically, he could almost perform it. Almost.

Every attempt failed at the final step because the scripture demanded something that couldn't be achieved through circulation alone: the Ferrying Mind. Compassionate without becoming attached to the outcome of that compassion, present without being consumed by another's suffering, and self-aware enough to touch another soul without losing sight of one's own. Ning drew a slow breath and returned to the question he had been considering ever since receiving the inheritance. What did it actually mean to ferry a soul?

It wasn't about destroying one. If that were the purpose, it might as well have been called the Soul Slaying Scripture. Yet neither was it simply about saving one. Ferrying implied something different. You didn't destroy what entered your boat, nor could you decide whether it deserved to reach the opposite shore. You simply carried it from one place to another. Until now, Ning had approached the Soul Ferrying Scripture like every other technique he had learned.

Understand the qi route, identify the trigger, study the mechanism, visualize the intended result, then repeat until comprehension followed. That worked for spells and martial arts, but a soul wasn't something so easily reduced to structure. A soul had weight. Regret made it sink, obsession made it cling, fear made it scatter, and desire made it sink its teeth into the world and refuse to let go. To touch another soul meant allowing yourself to feel some part of that weight.

If Ning tried to drag it along by force, he would merely become another chain holding it down. If he rejected its emotions entirely, he would never truly touch it. Yet if he allowed himself to drown in them, he would lose the very stability needed to guide it. That was the Ferrying Mind. It wasn't cold detachment, blind compassion, or some grand desire to save every suffering soul beneath heaven.

It was simply the ability to come close enough to bear another's weight while remaining steady enough not to be buried beneath it; to let another person's fear, hatred, regret, and pain enter his awareness without ever mistaking those feelings for his own. A clear heart could stand unmoved upon the riverbank. But a ferryman had to enter the river. He had to feel its current, carry another through it, and still remember which way led back to shore.

Ning's breathing gradually settled as the final piece clicked into place.

"So that's what I was missing." Xiao Fan's struggle pressed against his awareness. Lei Shen's hatred followed after it, vast, bitter, rotten with decades of unwillingness. His own fear rose alongside them. This time, Ning did not retreat. Instead, he tried to understand them, to feel them, and let himself become the anchor. The moment Ning understood that, the Soul Ferrying Scripture finally responded.

The qi that had always faltered at the final step flowed onward naturally, and Ning immediately understood why every previous attempt had failed. He had learned the words, memorized the circulation, and analyzed the technique from every angle, but he had always approached the Ferrying Mind as another problem to solve. He had never actually tried to ferry a soul. Now, with Xiao Fan's soul being invaded before his eyes, the distinction was no longer theoretical.

Ning wasn't trying to destroy Lei Shen, nor was he trying to forcibly drag Xiao Fan to safety. He simply wanted to reach Xiao Fan, understand the struggle taking place within his soul, and give him the guidance needed to find his own way back, all while ensuring he himself wasn't dragged into it. For the first time, his state of mind matched the scripture. I may have discovered another use for the protagonist halo. Ning thought.

Learning a technique in the middle of a crisis, precisely when that technique was needed most, with comprehension suddenly becoming clear enough to break through a bottleneck that had troubled him for days? Ning had certainly never experienced anything so conveniently timed before. Yet the first time it happened was when the Son of Luck was in mortal danger. Suspicious. Still, Ning wasn't about to complain about convenient enlightenment when it was finally happening in his favor. He had work to do.

Ning looked down at his hands and immediately noticed the first problem.

"Senior, how much spiritual energy does Soul Ferrying normally consume?" The Tower Spirit hesitated.

"For the soul of an ordinary Qi Condensation cultivator, not much. Lei Shen is different. He was once at the Purple Mansion Realm, and his remnant soul has been refined through the Blood Infant for years. Even in this state, ferrying him would require considerably more spiritual energy than you currently possess."

"Right." Ning nodded.

"Because I have basically none." The Tower Spirit opened its mouth, only to fall awkwardly silent.

"Do you have a seal for that?"

"There are seals capable of gathering and refining spiritual energy, but normally the cultivator still needs to process the gathered qi themselves. I can't simply pour someone else's spiritual energy directly into your meridians." Ning stared at it for a moment before his gaze drifted toward the enormous ritual formation beneath them. The Tower Spirit followed his eyes, and its expression slowly changed. Although the ritual had been destroyed, blood-red light still pulsed weakly through its channels.

Lei Shen had spent years preparing it to steal power from the entire sect, and much of the spiritual energy it had gathered had yet to completely disperse.

"Well..." The Tower Spirit floated toward the center of the formation and rolled up its tiny sleeves.

"I suppose I can't remain useless until the very end."

"Your words, not mine."

"Shut up." The Tower Spirit pressed both palms against the ritual. Golden runes immediately spread from its hands, crawling through the blood-red formation and forcibly reversing what remained of its circulation.

"This ritual was built upon seals in the first place, so I can redirect some of its remaining spiritual energy toward you. The problem is that your body won't survive taking it directly." Ning's face immediately scrunched up. Don't tell me that, after everything I've done, I'm still somehow going to end up sacrificed for the protagonist.

"Which is why I'll use myself as the final seal. I'll filter the spiritual energy before sending it into you and limit the flow to the absolute maximum your meridians can withstand." The Tower Spirit continued after the pause. At this point, Ning didn't have spare strength to complain about this sacrifice play bait.

"Fair enough. Do it." The first surge struck him before he could properly brace himself. Ning's entire body seized as spiritual energy flooded through his meridians, and a strangled curse escaped his throat. It felt as though someone had poured a raging river through channels that had already been cracked, repaired, and then cracked again for good measure. His meridians burned, his muscles spasmed, and every recently healed injury seemed to remember at once that it had been injured.

The Tower Spirit grimaced as its translucent body flickered under the strain.

"I'm giving you as much as your body can bear!"

"Then my body and I have very different definitions of bear!" Pain or not, Ning forced the Soul Ferrying Scripture into circulation. Warmth gathered within his palms. A faint golden mark appeared at the center of his forehead, shaped like a small diamond crossed by a single thin line, while pale ripples spread around it like moonlight reflected upon dark water. Ning pressed his hands against Xiao Fan and began the scripture. [Heaven bears the breath; earth receives the bone.] Golden threads passed through Xiao Fan's flesh and sank into his spiritual sea. For an instant, Ning saw only darkness, but then that darkness opened before him and revealed the struggle raging within. Xiao Fan stood at the center of his spiritual consciousness, his body formed from golden soul-light. Opposite him was Lei Shen, no longer wearing Lei Dong's ruined flesh but appearing as a tall man with long purple hair and thunder robes, his eyes burning with centuries of accumulated resentment.

The two were already fighting.

"You think this body belongs to you merely because you were born in it?" Lei Shen snarled as purple thunder erupted from his fist.

"Once your soul is erased, everything you possess will become mine!" Xiao Fan crossed his arms and took the blow, golden light exploding around him as he slid backward.

"My body, my soul, my fate. You seem awfully fond of claiming things that don't belong to you." Outside, Ning continued the circulation despite the spiritual energy burning through his damaged meridians. [Lost souls, see the river; bound souls, loosen the chain.] As the golden threads sank deeper, Ning finally came into contact with Lei Shen's soul. The hatred almost overwhelmed him. It was far more than simple anger.

Ning felt centuries of confinement, humiliation, ambition, vengeance, and memories replayed so many times that grievance had become indistinguishable from identity. Lei Shen had fed that hatred for so long that even he might no longer have remembered what he had originally wanted before revenge consumed everything else. Ning nearly recoiled, but he caught himself. This was what it meant to ferry a soul. He couldn't remain safely outside and pull Lei Shen away like an object.

He had to touch enough of that burden to understand what held the soul here, while keeping his own mind clear enough that Lei Shen's hatred never became his. Ning steadied his breathing and continued. [The living return to self; the dead return to dust.] Golden light appeared within Xiao Fan's spiritual sea, causing Lei Shen to look upward in alarm.

"What is this?" The Tower Spirit understood immediately. Even while filtering the ritual's remaining energy through its own body, it extended a strand of golden light toward Xiao Fan's forehead.

"Xiao Fan! Ning is trying to ferry Lei Shen from outside! Keep weakening his hold on your soul. The less stable his connection becomes, the easier it will be for Ning to separate him!" Understanding flashed through Xiao Fan's golden eyes.

"So that's what he's doing." Lei Shen's face twisted.

"You dare-" Xiao Fan's fist smashed into his face before he could finish. Outside, Ning gritted his teeth and continued. The Tower Spirit was supplying spiritual energy as quickly as his body could endure it, but even purified qi felt like fire passing through his exhausted meridians. Blood slowly began leaking from the corner of his mouth, while the Tower Spirit itself had grown so faint that Ning could almost see through it. Neither stopped. [Clear heart becomes the bank; ferrying mind becomes the lamp.] The golden threads within Xiao Fan's spiritual sea thickened into luminous chains. Wherever they touched Lei Shen, purple thunder peeled from his soul in ragged strands, revealing the battered remnant hidden beneath. For the first time, genuine fear entered Lei Shen's eyes.

"No! I have not taken my revenge! I have not reclaimed what was stolen from me! I endured all those years for this! I will not disappear here!" His spiritual sea erupted. Lei Shen abandoned his fight with Xiao Fan and seized the golden chains with both hands. Purple-black lightning exploded outward as his remaining consciousness compressed upon itself, every scrap of hatred and unwillingness becoming fuel for one final struggle. Outside, Ning's body jerked violently, and the golden mark on his forehead flickered.

"He's resisting!" the Tower Spirit shouted.

"I noticed!" Ning forced more qi into the scripture. The ritual beneath them was already growing dark as the Tower Spirit drained the last remnants of usable spiritual energy from it, and the little spirit's body flickered dangerously with every breath. There would be no second attempt. If Ning lost his connection now, he didn't have enough strength to establish another. The final circulation was close.

He could feel the scripture approaching completion, with Lei Shen's soul already beginning to loosen from Xiao Fan's. Then Lei Shen roared. Purple-black light erupted from his soul with enough force to shake the entire spiritual sea. One golden chain cracked beneath his hands, followed by another, and the phantom river beneath him began to churn violently as Lei Shen forced himself back toward Xiao Fan. I WILL NOT GO! The roar shook Ning's consciousness. Blood spilled from his nose as the backlash struck him.

He tried desperately to maintain the scripture, but the connection was collapsing faster than he could stabilize it. Lei Shen had spent years refining the Blood Infant specifically to seize another body; now, with annihilation before him, every remaining fragment of his soul was clinging to Xiao Fan with terrifying desperation. The Tower Spirit's face went pale.

"Ning, he's breaking free!" The Tower Spirit had almost nothing left to give him; Ning's meridians were already at their limit, and the golden threads connecting him to Xiao Fan were snapping one after another. He tried to force the final circulation through, only for Lei Shen's resistance to drag it apart before it could close. For the first time since beginning the scripture, Ning knew with absolute certainty that he didn't have enough. It's going to fail.

Through the collapsing connection, however, Xiao Fan's voice reached him.

"Who said we're finished?" Ning couldn't help but let out a weak smile; he knew the protagonist was going to work his magic yet again. Inside the spiritual sea, Xiao Fan had been driven to one knee. His golden soul-light had dimmed, Lei Shen's purple thunder had spread throughout the surrounding darkness, and by every reasonable measure, he should have been just as spent as Ning. Then the seal on Xiao Fan's right hand began to shine.

The mark that had remained dormant throughout the battle suddenly blazed with golden light, and ancient lines spread from Xiao Fan's palm as he deliberately poured the last of his strength into the Original Seal. Lei Shen's expression changed for the first time from rage to disbelief.

"What is that?" Xiao Fan raised his right hand, the Original Seal blazing across his palm.

"You've been trying to take everything from me since the moment you entered my body." His fingers slowly closed into a fist.

"Now let me show you what this seal does." Golden light flooded the spiritual sea." Original Seal: True Soul Lock." The seal erupted. Golden chains burst from Xiao Fan's palm and wrapped around Lei Shen from within, catching his remnant soul just as Ning's ferrying chains were beginning to collapse. Lei Shen roared and struggled, but Xiao Fan tightened his fist, and the chains pulled taut.

"You wanted my body?" Xiao Fan's golden eyes burned through the storm.

"Then you should've made sure I was finished first." The Original Seal pulled. Lei Shen's soul tore free. Outside, Ning suddenly felt all resistance disappear, and the Soul Ferrying Scripture that had been on the verge of collapse surged forward as though a blocked river had finally broken through its dam. Ning didn't waste the opportunity; he continued the chant. [By scripture and crossing, beneath heaven's witness and above earth's embrace, the wandering soul is ferried beyond the river of life and death.] Golden light flooded the chamber as Lei Shen's soul separated from Xiao Fan. The instant the connection broke, Ning's scripture caught the wandering remnant, and the phantom river manifested beneath him. Lei Shen struggled desperately against the current.

"No! I am Lei Shen! I have endured centuries! I will not-" The river carried him away. His voice disappeared into the distance, and the purple thunder surrounding his soul scattered into countless motes of fading light. The chamber went still. Ning's hands dropped, the mark on his forehead losing its glow. The Tower Spirit collapsed out of the air like a dropped doll, catching itself only inches above the floor, as the ritual seal beneath it finally turned fully gold and settled into a quiet, stable glow.

Xiao Fan's body stopped convulsing and lay still. Ning swayed. Then both of them collapsed at the same time. For a while there was only breathing. Ning lay on his side with one cheek against cold stone and decided, with total sincerity, that he had never appreciated cold stone more in his life. Xiao Fan coughed.

"It's finally-" Ning's hand shot out and clamped weakly over his mouth, weak in strength, but backed by an enormous amount of hell-the-fuck-not energy. Xiao Fan blinked. Ning opened one bloodshot eye.

"Don't speak another word." Xiao Fan could only nod at the sheer pain Ning promised if he did otherwise. Only then did Ning remove his hand. The Tower Spirit floated between them, looking as though it had aged several centuries, despite being, in essence, a tower.

"It's over," the Tower Spirit said quietly.

"The ritual has been broken. Lei Shen's remnant soul has been ferried away, and the formation has returned to my control." It looked at the two of them.

"You two saved the sect. Stand proud." Ning slowly closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

"Good." Silence settled over the chamber. Then Xiao Fan cleared his throat.

"Ning... I think I may have awakened my spiritual sense after all this." Ning let his own senses stretch out. Xiao Fan was still only at the sixth stage of Qi Condensation, but he'd already unlocked a spiritual sense befitting the seventh. At this point, why the fuck not? Ning said, letting his eyes fall shut again, "I don't care anymore." Xiao Fan wisely fell silent once again, not getting the reaction he wanted. Then they heard a series of footsteps.

Ning's expression immediately worsened as a woman emerged into the chamber, her robes still remarkably neat despite the chaos outside and her dark hair pinned with the same deliberate care as before. He recognized her at once: Mo Lian, the prisoner who had been calmly playing Go against herself while the entire prison collapsed around her.

She took in the ruined chamber with obvious interest, her gaze passing over the shattered ritual, the damaged battlefield, and finally the two disciples who looked as though surviving another strong breeze might prove challenging.

"My," she murmured.

"It seems quite a few interesting things happened while I was locked away." Her gaze passed over the two battered disciples lying on the ground, and her lips curved into a faint smile." Stand." Ning's body moved before his mind could even register the command. His palms struck the floor, his legs forced themselves beneath him, and despite every exhausted muscle screaming in protest, he rose unsteadily to his feet. Beside him, Xiao Fan did the same, his body trembling as it obeyed a will that wasn't his own.

Pain immediately tore through Ning's body. His legs had already been trembling beneath him, his meridians were a mess, and every instinct was screaming at him to lie down and preferably remain there for the next several days. Instead, Mo Lian's command forced his battered body to remain perfectly upright, muscles straining against injuries that should have dropped him to the floor. Ning tried to move a finger and received nothing in response.

Know Thyself, meanwhile, was more than happy to inform him exactly how badly his muscles were straining and how the strange influence carried by Mo Lian's voice had settled over his body and consciousness. You know, for something called Know Thyself, helping me actually control myself once in a while would be appreciated. Mo Lian approached at an unhurried pace.

"You're the little disciple who passed my cell earlier." Her gaze lingered on Ning, and she smiled as she came closer.

"I wondered what became of you. To think you were involved in all of this... and such a cute little thing too." Ning decided that being called cute by the centuries-old mind-controlling prison lady was probably somewhere near the bottom of today's experiences, which was impressive considering the competition. At this point, Ning was legit about to cry at the non-stop escalation. Before Mo Lian could say anything more, however, the scrape of a boot against stone caught her attention. Xiao Fan had moved.

It was barely half a step, but there was no mistaking it. Mo Lian's command had forced him to stand exactly where she wanted him, and somehow, through sheer force of will, Xiao Fan had moved anyway. Mo Lian's attention immediately shifted away from Ning.

"Oh?" Xiao Fan's jaw clenched as he forced his shoulder to twitch next, golden qi flickering weakly around his body before fading almost immediately. Mo Lian walked toward him, genuine curiosity replacing the casual amusement in her eyes.

"You're actually trying to break through my command." Xiao Fan's jaw strained before he managed to force out, "T-trying? I moved." Mo Lian laughed softly. Her command restrained their bodies, not their tongues; after all, there was little amusement in breaking someone if they couldn't speak back." Kneel." The command struck with considerably more force. Xiao Fan's knees buckled, but instead of falling completely, his body stopped halfway down.

His legs shook violently as he fought against the command, and blood began seeping from the injuries his newly restored body had accumulated all over again during the battles that followed. There was barely any spiritual energy left for him to rely upon and no technique supporting him, only sheer will forcing his body against an order it desperately wanted to obey. Mo Lian watched him struggle, and something unsettling slowly entered her smile.

"Interesting. Your cultivation is mediocre, your spiritual energy is exhausted, and your body has already reached its limit, yet your will still refuses to bend." She stepped closer until she stood directly before him.

"I've met cultivators far stronger than you who broke much sooner." Xiao Fan raised his head with considerable effort.

"Should I... congratulate you?" Her eyebrow rose.

"Perhaps... give you a reward?" For a moment, Mo Lian simply stared at him before laughing genuinely.

"I like you."

"... The feelings not mutual." Xiao Fan struggled to say those words.

"Even better." She reached down and took his chin between her fingers, forcing his face upward.

"I've shattered Dao hearts that endured centuries. I've watched proud men forget their own names because I asked them to, and I've made cultivators beg me to return thoughts that were once their own." Her thumb slowly passed across his cheek.

"But you..." Her smile widened.

"I think I'll take my time. Let's see how much of that will remain when I'm finished." Xiao Fan stared back at her. He was exhausted, immobilized, and apparently moments away from having his mind torn apart, yet somehow his mouth remained committed to making the situation worse.

"You really... talk too much." Mo Lian's fingers tightened around his chin.

"Perhaps I'll begin with that mouth." Then she noticed Ning. The amusement in Mo Lian's eyes faded slightly. Ning was staring past her. For the first time since she had entered the chamber, there was unmistakable fear on his face. Mo Lian's smile returned.

"Oh? So you finally understand your situation?" Ning said nothing. His eyes remained fixed on something directly behind her. Mo Lian's smile slowly disappeared. She turned. A pale hand clamped over her mouth. Mo Lian's eyes flew wide as a torrent of water forced its way between her lips before she could utter a single sound. Her cheeks bulged, and her throat convulsed as she instinctively tried to pull away, but the hand held her with terrifying strength, denying her even the breath needed to form another command.

Dark qi erupted wildly from Mo Lian's body, but it accomplished nothing. Water continued pouring down her throat, forcing her to swallow again and again until her stomach began to distend beneath her robes. For the first time, genuine panic shattered the composure that had survived years of imprisonment. She clawed desperately at the hand covering her mouth, but before she could tear herself free, water exploded outward and enclosed her entire body within a perfectly round sphere.

Only then did Ning properly see the girl standing behind her. White hair drifted gently around a beautiful young face, and Xiao Qing was smiling. There was nothing remotely warm about that smile. Her eyes weren't even on Mo Lian's face. They were fixed upon the fingers still resting against Xiao Fan's cheek. The water sphere began to compress. Mo Lian thrashed violently inside it, dark qi lashing against the surrounding water, but every impact vanished uselessly into its depths.

She tried to open her mouth, perhaps to issue another command, only for water to immediately rush in. Whatever words she intended to speak dissolved into a stream of bubbles as the sphere denied her both voice and breath. Xiao Qing's smile never changed. She reached through the surface of the sphere, took Mo Lian's wrist, and carefully removed the woman's hand from Xiao Fan's face. One finger at a time. Only after the last finger had been peeled away did Xiao Qing finally look directly at her.

"You touched Brother Xiao Fan." The sphere contracted. Mo Lian's body folded under the sudden pressure, her eyes bulging as the water around her compressed hard enough to make the stone beneath them crack. Ning felt the command holding his body disappear and immediately sagged, barely catching himself before hitting the floor. He looked at Mo Lian struggling helplessly inside the sphere, then at the smiling white-haired girl controlling it. Xiao Fan himself stared at the girl in disbelief.

"... Xiao Qing?" The horrifying expression vanished from her face almost instantly. Xiao Qing turned toward him, and the coldness in her eyes melted so completely that Ning briefly wondered whether he'd imagined the entire thing.

"Brother!" She rushed toward Xiao Fan as though she hadn't just appeared from nowhere, force-fed a dangerous mind cultivator enough water to inflate her stomach, and then started crushing her inside a sphere for touching him.

"... Why are you here?" Xiao Fan asked, surprised. Xiao Qing threw her arms around him.

"It's because the formation has been restored. We can enter the prison now." She looked at him with teary eyes before smiling brightly.

"Brother... you did it."

"I see." Xiao Fan smiled weakly as he slowly closed his eyes. Not far away, Ning finally understood. Everything was truly over. Normally, he would've made some sarcastic remark about how a jade beauty arriving at the last possible moment to save the protagonist was the most cliché ending imaginable. He probably would've even complained about how dramatic her entrance had been. But Ning no longer had the mental energy for any of that.

So he finally let himself feel what he'd been through: a nightmare walk through a dungeon, a battle to the death, his first kill, his first soul ferrying, his first true boss fight. Ning's knees gave out beneath him. Fortunately, someone caught him before he could collapse onto the stone floor. Ling Xin. She steadied him with one arm, effortlessly holding him upright.

"You fought and saved the sect," she said lightly.

"Don't you think it'd be a little embarrassing to face-plant now, hmm?" Her tone was teasing, but the concern in her eyes was impossible to hide.

"Master..." Feeling, at long last, that he was in safe hands, Ning finally let the exhaustion claim him.... Thanks for reading~