Please, Don’t Die - Chapter 37

The art of illusionary realms has a low floor but a high ceiling.

The crudest illusions are riddled with flaws, unable to even trap a three-year-old child. Mid-tier illusions can deceive the senses, yet still bear cracks that serve as exits. The most profound illusions, however, weave together the memories of those who enter, seamlessly integrating them into a flawless, perilous construct, one from which most cultivators can only perish, trapped within.

Rather than mere illusions, they resemble entirely new worlds.

Those capable of crafting such realms must master talismans, spells, and the ability to commune with heaven and earth, a combination so rare that they can be counted on one hand within the cultivation world.

Among the Twelve Realms, the Zhenyuan Sect secures its place among the Five Great Sects through its mastery of talismanic illusions, yet even they boast only two grandmasters of the art.

However, the foremost genius of talismanic techniques does not belong to the Zhenyuan Sect and shares a personal connection with He Qingsheng.

Low-tier illusions are broken by finding flaws; high-tier ones are overcome through mental fortitude.

Thanks to her unshakable composure, He Qingsheng once served as a touchstone for her old friend’s illusions for several years.

Even after a century, stepping back into an illusionary realm still filled her with a strange sense of familiarity.

Crossing a familiar little bridge and following the main road, she entered the bustling heart of the town.

Pedestrians came and went, some greeting Yan Xingyi, others pressing food into Ying Qujie’s hands, while a few inquired about the Prince Liang’s well-being.

As they walked, the traces of their past lives in Jimo Town gradually filled in around them.

When contradictions arose, the illusion even adjusted itself, smoothing over inconsistencies.

By the time they reached the end of the street, He Qingsheng had pieced together a rough understanding of the lives of Ying Qujie, Yan Xingyi, and the Prince Liang within the illusion.

Ying Qujie was now the son of a scholar from the east street, handsome, bright, and studious from a young age. While other children were at the age of causing mischief, “Physician Ying” had already established himself as the epitome of grace and learning.

In the modest yet lively town of Jimo, he was well-liked by the neighbors, in short, the legendary “child every parent praises.”

In contrast, the Prince Liang suffered a rather damaged reputation. Here, he was the youngest son of a butcher, spoiled by his family’s wealth, spending his days catching birds in the mountains, fishing in the rivers, and indulging in every frivolous pleasure, a far cry from his frail, dignified image in the outside world.

Yan Xingyi’s expression was indescribable as he listened to He Qingsheng’s analysis.

“You think he’s some paragon of restraint out there?”

He Qingsheng eyed him skeptically. In Jimo Town, Yan Xingyi played the role of a revered schoolmaster, under whose tutelage half the town’s children had studied poetry.

“If your understanding of the Prince Liang is accurate, then this illusion likely tailored each character’s background and life story based on your real personalities,” He Qingsheng teased with exaggerated surprise. “Who would’ve thought Imperial Preceptor Yan was such an upright man?”

Yan Xingyi twitched his lips. “Don’t underestimate me. Back in the day, I was the top scholar in the Su Province’s liberal arts exams, doesn’t that count as erudition?”

“Su Province?” Now He Qingsheng was genuinely startled. In her past life, though she hadn’t studied there, she’d heard plenty about the notorious difficulty of its exams, famed for their emphasis on humanistic ideals.

In that light, Yan Xingyi’s role as a schoolmaster made a certain sense.

Just as they settled into their roles, the butcher and his wife came rushing after them.

“Master Yan, wait!”

Yan Xingyi turned, and the word “Your Majesty” slipped out.

Though spoken softly, He Qingsheng heard it clearly. She turned with Ying Qujie and got a good look at the approaching couple.

The butcher-dressed man exuded natural authority, while the woman in simple attire couldn’t conceal her noble bearing.

This illusion was indeed the ultimate version woven from memories.

He Qingsheng suddenly felt the hand supporting her stiffen. She immediately turned to look at Ying Qujie, but his expression remained calm, showing no signs of abnormality.

“Apologies for troubling you, Master. Our little monkey has been mischievous today, how improper for him to be carried on your back,” the butcher’s wife said apologetically.

The butcher also smiled sheepishly at Yan Xingyi and reached out to take the Prince Liang.

“Ah, no need for such courtesy,” Yan Xingyi deftly sidestepped the butcher, winking at He Qingsheng while casually smoothing things over. “It’s no trouble. He’s just running a fever today. Let me fetch some medicine from home and send him back to you afterward.”

“How did he suddenly catch a fever?” the woman asked anxiously, her face full of concern.

“Children are like this, sweating from heat makes them prone to chills. No need to worry, madam. Once he sweats it out, he’ll be fine,” Yan Xingyi said, again avoiding the woman’s attempt to take the child.

The butcher continued reaching out, almost snatching the child. “This boy is weak but still mischievous. We shouldn’t trouble you further, Master.”

The butcher and his wife were unyielding, determined to take the Prince Liang away.

After several rounds of tugging, Yan Xingyi was sweating with anxiety.

This stalemate couldn’t continue.

He Qingsheng said to Yan Xingyi, “Let them take the Prince Liang.”

“But…”

The Prince Liang was unconscious, completely passive in the illusion, and He Qingsheng understood Yan Xingyi’s concern.

However, this illusion wasn’t flawless, it was mid-to-high tier. Even if there was danger, it wouldn’t be impossible to break free.

Beyond escaping, He Qingsheng faintly sensed there might be a more valuable clue hidden here.

“I’ll keep an eye on the Prince Liang,” He Qingsheng said, patting Ying Qujie to signal his cooperation in the act.

Ying Qujie pressed his lips together.

“I’ll sense any danger,” He Qingsheng said, assuming Ying Qujie was worried about his own safety. She flicked the red bracelet on his wrist and secretly infused more baleful energy into it. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Uncle, Auntie, can I go with him today?” Ying Qujie asked timidly, causing the butcher and his wife to pause briefly.

Yan Xingyi wasn’t sure what they were planning and stayed silent.

“Xiao Ying, your family will worry if you don’t go home,” the woman said kindly to Ying Qujie, squatting down to meet his eyes with a smile. “Be good. You can come play with this rascal tomorrow once he’s better.”

“Okay,” Ying Qujie said, his large eyes glistening with disappointment. The woman’s maternal instincts surged, and she nearly reached out to pinch his cheeks.

Ying Qujie suddenly gasped and earnestly held up a small wooden puppet. “Then, Auntie, can I let this keep him company?”

No one could repeatedly refuse a child’s innocent request.

The woman chuckled and readily agreed.

Smooth.

He Qingsheng approved of Ying Qujie’s move while silently criticizing Yan Xingyi for his lack of finesse.

Yan Xingyi watched, dumbfounded, as the butcher and his wife placed the puppet in the Prince Liang ‘s arms.

So that’s how it’s done.

He Qingsheng and the others turned to leave.

The moment they were gone, Ying Qujie’s smile vanished. His entire demeanor, unlike the gentleness of his older self, now seemed sharp and unyielding.

Yan Xingyi didn’t know how to engage with him, most of his interactions with Ying Qujie had required He Qingsheng’s presence.

Fortunately, they hadn’t gone far when Yan Xingyi’s academy servant hurriedly appeared and called him back.

Yan Xingyi gave a few words of caution, urging him to be careful, then followed the servant away from the end of the street.

The sky was painted with warm orange hues.

The street was sparsely populated, with only a few people heading home. The scent of food occasionally drifted from windows and doorways, accompanied by bursts of laughter.

Ying Qujie’s shadow stretched infinitely long under the setting sun.

Walking alone on the street, the small figure unexpectedly felt a pang of loneliness.

A strong gust of wind tugged at the long hair by his side. Ying Qujie instinctively reached toward his shoulder, only to grasp empty air.

He paused abruptly, then slowly lowered his hand.

As Prince Liang and Yan Xingyi each began their own paths in the unfolding story, Ying Qujie grew curious about who he would encounter next.

He ambled along slowly.

It was as if his temperament had regressed along with his body, reverting to that of a seven- or eight-year-old, sinking into a mood of hopeful anticipation.

Ying Qujie had expected his grandmother, his master, or at the very least his father to appear. But standing before him now was a woman of extraordinary beauty.

The dangling begonia ornaments by her temples paled in comparison to her natural grace.

Ying Qujie had no memory of this face, yet a name surfaced in his mind unbidden,

Ling Yu.

As her name suggested, she was as flawless as jade.

Her aura was utterly out of place in this small town. Standing at the narrow end of the alley, she seemed more like a celestial maiden who had strayed into the mortal realm.

For a moment, Ying Qujie was at a loss for how to react, allowing her to gently cup his cheek. She gave it a light pinch, her voice laced with amusement. “Did you have fun today?”

“Mm.” He had.

“Then it’s time to go home now.” The woman took his hand, her palm slightly cool and led him away.

She walked at a leisurely pace, and Ying Qujie followed half a step behind, trailing her as they turned into a nearby alley.

Ling Yu wasn’t talkative, nor was Ying Qujie. The two walked side by side in tranquil silence.

To any onlooker, it would have been a breathtakingly beautiful scene, white walls, black-tiled roofs, and a cobblestone alley, where a fairy-like woman held the hand of a child who bore a striking resemblance to her, every smile and glance worthy of a painting.

The alley was neither long nor short, but Ying Qujie trod each step with deliberate care.

Ling Yu stopped before a courtyard gate, knocked, and led Ying Qujie inside.

“Don’t spend all your time cooped up at home reading,” she chided affectionately, lightly bopping his nose.

“Ying-ge should go out and play more from now on.”

The faint smile on Ying Qujie’s lips froze, then slowly faded until it disappeared entirely.

…

He Qingsheng followed Prince Liang back to the butcher’s house.

The furnishings inside were extravagantly lavish, so much so that He Qingsheng could hardly bear to look.

The dynasty was still standing, what respectable household would dare use teacups adorned with dragon motifs?

The caster of this illusion had gone to great lengths, yet the flaws were glaring.

After settling the Prince Liang, the butcher and his wife withdrew to boil water and prepare dinner, behaving no differently from any ordinary family.

Though Prince Liang had shrunk in size, his frail constitution remained unchanged. He lay on the sickbed, coughing intermittently.

He Qingsheng didn’t dare recklessly leave the puppet, afraid that even a wisp of her baleful energy might hasten his demise.

This meant she couldn’t easily leave in spirit form to explore the illusion.

If she left and Prince Liang encountered danger in her absence, the trail would go cold.

Estimating the duration of Ying Qujie’s potion, she waited idly by his side.

She wondered how Ying Qujie was faring.

With a thought, He Qingsheng tugged at the bracelet using the power of water nurturing wood.

Ying Qujie exchanged a few words with Ling Yu before returning to his room.

The bracelet on his wrist was pulled three times, then fell still for a while before moving again in a completely erratic manner.

It was pure mischief on a whim.

Ying Qujie let his arm sway with the bracelet’s tugs, inexplicably feeling as if a lively little dog were curiously playing with his arm.

In this unfamiliar environment, the gentle pull on his wrist felt like a soothing presence, lulling Ying Qujie into a deep slumber.

As the night deepened, the bracelet finally seemed to tire of its game and stopped moving. In his sleep, Ying Qujie instinctively tightened his grip on the red bracelet around his wrist.

Water nurturing wood was connected by a slender red-black thread, and a trickle of vitality and fortune flowed along it into He Qingsheng’s hand.

The verdant greenery of plants and trees carried a familiar sensation.

On the sickbed, Prince Liang slept restlessly. He Qingsheng moved farther away, crouching by the window to toy with the moonlight.

She wrapped the energy transformed by water nurturing wood around her divine sense, then boldly refined half of the mausoleum.

The malevolent energy from the ghosts she had previously devoured was far from enough to handle a mid-level illusion, especially now that she also needed to protect two mortals from dying. Thus, the half of Mountain God Wu Qilu’s mausoleum naturally became her top choice.

He Qingsheng had always been accustomed to recklessness, acting unafraid didn’t mean she truly wasn’t.

To avoid complications, she devoured the energy at an extreme speed, but with it came immense pain and mental torment.

He Qingsheng’s delicate brows furrowed tightly as water nurturing wood spun wildly at her fingertips.

The wisp of green vitality she had taken shielded her divine sense, but during the refinement process, it vanished rapidly, like clay oxen sinking into the sea.

Suddenly, a clear, youthful voice rang in her ears.

“What did A-Qing and I do wrong? Why has fate tormented us like this?”

Ming Shu, arm in arm with Yun Shuiqing, tilted her head coquettishly, her gaze innocent and puzzled, as if genuinely waiting for He Qingsheng to provide an answer.

Just as Ming Shu was about to speak again, He Qingsheng severed the black-red baleful energy connected to water nurturing wood, halting its operation.

The wooden bead embedded with water essence fell heavily into her palm.

At the same time, Mountain God Wu Qilu waved her hand, shattering the illusions of the two girls, and hunched over as she approached He Qingsheng.

A breeze from afar lifted fallen leaves from the treetops and placed them in her palm.

He Qingsheng heard her aged, hoarse voice.

“I sheltered the people, my husband defended our homeland, why must my child suffer such a fate?”

He Qingsheng held her breath and focused her mind, completely ignoring Wu Qilu’s words.

Malevolent energy disturbed the spirit, often luring with words and infusing emotions until it shook one’s resolve and led to backlash.

He Qingsheng had entered the illusion with her soul, so the illusion hadn’t generated a life story for her as its target.

She existed outside the illusion’s narrative.

This was her greatest advantage here, she absolutely couldn’t let the malevolent energy shake her resolve and allow the illusion to exploit her weakness.

The remaining green vitality was about to disappear, and only a corner of the mausoleum had been refined.

“Fate is unjust, burdening all living beings with endless suffering and torment,” Wu Qilu’s brainwashing continued.

“Haven’t you experienced the capriciousness of fate yourself? Haven’t you ever wondered?”

“Aren’t you resentful too?”

Wu Qilu’s voice gradually blurred into the tone her junior sister often used. He Qingsheng’s eyes snapped open.

“Enough!”

Once again, He Qingsheng decisively severed her connection with the half-mausoleum. Seizing the moment the vitality vanished, she fiercely tore off a chunk of the malevolent energy and made it her own.

The timing was neither early nor late, just perfect for maximizing her gains.

A hint of fish-belly white appeared on the horizon. After the first crow of the rooster, the silent night was torn open, and all things quietly awakened.

Outside the alley, wooden wheels rolled over the bluestone pavement, leaving behind a drawn-out creaking sound.

In the butcher’s house next door, candlelight flickered to life, and hushed whispers carried the lazy weariness of those just awakened. Soon after, the sounds of movement could be heard.

The butcher’s wife tiptoed into the room, checked Prince Liang’s forehead temperature, and upon finding him well, pressed a string of copper coins onto the wooden table before quietly retreating. She then left with the butcher to set up their stall.

He Qingsheng jumped down from the windowsill and met Prince Liang’s clear, alert eyes.

“Venerable He!” Prince Liang sat bolt upright, looking at He Qingsheng as if she were his own elder sister, his eyes brimming with tears of excitement. “With you here, I feel at ease.”

“That fake mother just now touched my forehead, it scared me so much I broke into a cold sweat. I almost couldn’t stop myself from jerking upright.”