Volume One Hidden in the Azure Abyss Chapter Twenty-Five

When he returned to the Hall of No Boats, Jiang Ji had also come back.

“My lord, it is said that the Lady has left Lotus River and her whereabouts are unknown.”

The young man’s voice was low. “Keep searching.”

“Yes, my lord.”

By the banks of the Weak Water River.

Jinli approached in light attire, gazing into the dark depths of the river. The spirits nearby dared not draw close. With her hands behind her back, she calculated her fortune, then a smile of enlightenment played upon her lips. Her eyes paused briefly before she swept out her hand and descended toward the riverbed. Countless vengeful and demonic souls dwelled in the waters, swarming toward Jinli like ravenous beasts at the sight of fresh flesh.

“What a pure soul—from the divine realm.”

“How fragrant, how enticing…”

Greedy, naked voices filled Jinli’s ears like a demonic cacophony—screams, cries, wails of anguish. For a moment, she felt as though fluid was seeping from her ears; she wiped at it and found her fingertips stained with fresh blood.

The resentment here was overwhelming. The foul aura pressed heavily upon her primordial spirit. Due to her wounds, the miasma broke through her protective barrier, clawing at her limbs, waist, and abdomen.

Enduring the agony, Jinli brought her hands together, fingers poised in a mudra, and formed an orchid seal. Golden runes appeared in her palms, temporarily warding off the invasive miasma, but the foulness seeped into her wounds. Blood trickled from the corner of her lips—the deeper she went, the weaker her spirit became.

She searched everywhere for Bai Wanting’s soul.

Then, amidst the oppressive darkness, she glimpsed a faint silver radiance—that was Bai Wanting’s final wisp of soul.

Faced with the dense miasma, Jinli considered for a moment, shifted her hand, and summoned a blade of immortal light at her fingertips. The blade split into countless others, as if animated by will, slicing through the darkness.

While the miasma scattered, she swiftly retrieved the fragile remnant of soul.

As the darkness surged back, she tore off her Falling Ring. In a burst of blinding light, she vanished into the depths.

When Jinli awoke, pain wracked her entire body as if not a piece of flesh remained unscathed.

She looked up at the clear blue sky, feeling utterly alone in the world.

It took a long while before she managed to sit up, glancing at her hands—bloodied and mangled, her clothes in tatters. She surveyed her surroundings.

The sky was a brilliant blue, the courtyard ancient and simple. Beneath her, the ground was carpeted with white snow, close beside a pear tree. She reached out and, at her touch, the ground rippled like water.

She stood, recalling records from the divine realm: the Emperor once feigned death to remain with his mortal empress, then secluded himself with her in the Mortal Realm of Ephemeral Life.

Judging by the décor, this must be the domain the Emperor built.

But wasn’t this place destroyed after the empress’s death?

She wandered into the courtyard, curiosity overcoming her caution, unaware that the path she had taken was dissolving behind her.

As she pushed open a door, a sudden burst of light blinded her. Shielding her eyes, she vaguely saw a figure who spoke: “Heaven and earth bear witness; love and sorrow may not abide together.”

Suddenly, she was thrust away by the figure.

When she regained consciousness, everything had changed. Her wounds were healed.

Reflecting on the vision, she surmised it must have been the legendary empress.

She opened her palm—Bai Wanting’s soul was perilously weak.

A moment later and Bai Wanting would have vanished from the world.

“It seems you must undergo tribulation,” Jinli murmured, smiling. She pressed her fingers to her brow, sending a sliver of her own soul to Bai Wanting, so her spirit would remain whole through her trials.

She descended to the mortal realm. Her gaze fell on a gentle-looking, pregnant woman by the roadside. Jinli’s eyes flashed gold, then returned to normal. She smiled, “It appears you and she are bound by fate.”

With that, she turned and left.

That night, at a snow-covered street corner, a wealthy young lady sat in a speeding carriage, drunken and anxious, urging the driver on.

Suddenly, the neighing of horses, shouts of alarm.

In the snow, a vivid red flower bloomed.

The heiress, terror sobering her instantly, glanced at the motionless figure on the ground and, pale with fear, hurried the carriage driver to flee.

As the carriage departed in panic, Jinli sat high upon the eaves, white snow settling on her shoulders. She tossed aside her wine bottle and approached the fallen woman.

Despair filled the pregnant woman’s eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Looking at Jinli, trembling, she stretched out one hand to shield her unborn child, the other to Jinli.

“Save…save…the child…”

Her voice faded away.

Jinli sighed. Looking up, she saw the envoys of the Underworld.

“Greetings, Lady.”

“No need for formalities.”

“Why have you come so late, Lady? Is there an order?”

Jinli glanced at the lifeless woman at her feet. “Return to your realm.”

The envoys exchanged glances, bowed, and withdrew into the night.

Jinli extended her hand. Pale blue immortal light flowed from her fingertips, enshrouding the woman in a mist. Suddenly, spring returned to the earth, the air warmed, snow melted away—and the woman gasped for breath.

Standing at the door of the clinic, Jinli watched as passersby marveled at the springtime scene—the flowers blooming, the snow disappearing in what should have been the depth of winter.

Just then, the cry of a newborn rang out. Jinli smiled and departed.

Ten years later, at the Hall of No Boats in the Southern Sea—

“Recently, the tribes of the Four Seas have all been restrained. You may rest easy, my lord,” Geng Yuan reported, scroll in hand. He nodded, and just then, Jiang Ji announced, “Master, Fairy Susu has come to see you.”

“I will not see her.”

Jiang Ji hesitated. Geng Yuan looked up. “I told you to find the Lady’s whereabouts. Any progress?”

Jiang Ji, realizing he should say no more, took his leave.

Geng Yuan resumed reading the scroll.

As he reached for his tea, someone offered the cup before he could. He frowned in displeasure.

“My lord.”

At the sound, his expression changed; the gloom in his eyes deepened.

It was not her.

“My lord.” At the voice, his face turned cold. He looked away, ignoring both her and the tea in her hand. “Why are you here?”

Susu was taken aback but set down the cup. “I heard you were injured suppressing the rebellion. I came to see how you are, my lord.”

“It’s nothing. You may go.”

Geng Yuan’s tone was devoid of emotion, his gaze fixed on the scroll.

Susu began to grind ink for him, speaking as she worked. “The Heavenly Lord is concerned for your health and sent me with these healing elixirs. He trusts the Four Seas to your care, but hopes you will not forget loyalty.”

Geng Yuan set down the bamboo slip and stared at her. Susu’s hand trembled, the inkstone slipping.

He caught it nimbly, blackening his palm.

“Fairy Susu, I have heard your message. If there is nothing else, you may leave.”

Susu, understanding she could not stay, read the warning in his cold eyes. She smiled, bowed, and withdrew, passing Jiang Ji at the door.

Geng Yuan concealed the scroll. “What is it?”

Jiang Ji’s face was bright with joy. “My lord, the Lady has been found. A tree spirit saw a remarkable woman save the people of Dawn in the Northern Lands.”

Geng Yuan’s heart trembled, his hand shook. He rose, a smile flickering across his face, but then he remembered something and sat back down.

He gazed at the image of the divine maiden on the brocade, and his eyes dimmed once more.

Jiang Ji asked, “My lord…will you not see her?”

Geng Yuan shook his head. “No, I will not.”

Why should he go? At just a hint of her trail, he lost himself for a moment. Fortunately, he recovered—her enchantment was broken, their story ended. Ten years had passed. He was only unwilling to let go.

Moreover, he had done things to her in the past—he did not know how much she knew, but she must have guessed most of it.

If she wished to travel the Six Realms, let her be.

Why should he care?

There was no connection between them anymore.

At that moment, Jinli was in the Northern Lands, watching the tribes dance around the bonfire. She smiled.

“Immortal Lady?”

Jinli turned to see the tribal chief approaching, carrying a local delicacy.

So young to be a chief—he must possess both ability and respect.

“Chief.”

“No need for titles, just call me Amo.”

Amo’s sun-kissed face glowed with warmth, his lively demeanor brightening those around him.

Jinli nodded. “Amo.”

He grinned—a simple, honest, endearing youth.

He thanked her. “Thank you, Immortal Lady. If not for your timely arrival, I don’t know how much longer we could have held on.”

The demon clan had attacked his tribe. Though the territory belonged to the Northern Lands, it was close to the Valley of Ten Thousand Demons, and the demons often harassed them.

This time, it was worse—a full assault, a midnight raid. The tribe was unprepared, suffering heavy losses. Jinli’s arrival seemed heaven-sent, saving them all.

“No need to thank me; I was just passing by.”

Amo continued, “You don’t know how amazing you were—defeating the demons so completely. They won’t return soon.”

Jinli nodded, but out of concern added, “Still, you should leave this place soon. There is a city called Great Jun in the Northern Lands—you’d fare better there.”

Amo looked at his wounded people and nodded. “We will go.”

“There is aurora there too. You’ll love it.”

Amo nodded. “Are you heading north, Immortal Lady?”

Jinli gazed northward, neither confirming nor denying. “Perhaps.”

He saw the sorrow in her eyes and said no more. Instead, he took her hand, surprising her, and led her to the bonfire to dance with the others.

The cheers, songs, and drums held no trace of grief for the recent battle.

Jinli noticed several wounded, hands still bandaged, dancing with broad smiles that washed away the heaviness in her heart.

Her lips curved into an unconscious smile.

As the gathering ended, everyone sat around the fire, talking, listening to Amo play the xun. The haunting melody seemed to mourn the lost, to tell of longing.

When the song ended, tears were wiped away, and all returned to their homes in silence.

Jinli watched the flames, her heart calmer than ever before.

“Immortal Lady, look—the aurora.”

At Amo’s words, Jinli turned to see, and sure enough, in the northern sky, the aurora danced like a celestial river, winding and shimmering.

The young chief’s face bore the purest smile; whenever she fell into sorrow, he dispelled it.

Indeed, youth is always passionate and pure.

At dawn, Jinli bid Amo farewell, traveling alone across the snowy landscape. Unconsciously, she seemed to hear the distant notes of the xun.

This time, the melody carried a sense of parting, yet also spoke of a promise to meet again.