Please, Don’t Die - Chapter 52

The light barrier sealed tightly, ensuring that neither the people of the Twelve Walls nor the demonic beasts and spirits would suddenly emerge from the Ying Mansion anytime soon.

He Qingsheng felt slightly relieved.

“But now that we’re back to this topic,” she stared at Li Fu’an, struggling to phrase her words before finally voicing her concern, “Nephew, it’s true you stabbed your master, but now you’re so desperate to summon her soul, are you planning to destroy even her spirit?”

He Qingsheng’s blunt question dredged up the past, and Li Fu’an’s expression darkened instantly.

His tone was resolute. “No.”

“Proof?” Despite being at a disadvantage in the negotiation, He Qingsheng pressed on.

Her time with Ming Zhi hadn’t been long, but they had shared a friendship as clear and tranquil as water.

A hundred years had passed since Ming Zhi’s death. What if she had already reincarnated? Summoning her soul now could damage her spirit, and He Qingsheng would bear the guilt.

The standoff stretched, the scene falling into silence.

“The circumstances are complicated,” Li Fu’an said. “My master never reincarnated, and there’s no trace of her in the underworld. I’ve heard the Fuliu Sect’s secret arts are deeply tied to the dead. If you possess a method to gather souls, I implore you to let me see my master first.”

It seemed as though Li Fu’an hadn’t spoken this much in a long time, his voice grew hoarse several times. Finishing, he took a step back and bowed respectfully. “As for proof…”

He slit his index finger, murmuring an incantation, and swiftly drew a blood sigil in the air before him.

He Qingsheng recognized it as a technique created by Ming Zhi, using heaven and earth as parchment to commune with the chaos of yin and yang, borrowing the power of all things.

Only a prodigy could master it.

Aside from Ming Zhi, Li Fu’an was the second person she had ever seen wield it with such ease.

The final stroke bled with sorrowful sharpness, and in an instant, the world trembled with an unnatural phenomenon.

Li Fu’an spoke slowly, his voice firm: “By heaven and earth as witness, I, Li Fu’an, swear upon my soul that I harbor no intent to harm my master, Ming Zhi. Should I break this oath, may my spirit be obliterated.”

His words rang with conviction. The moment the oath concluded, the celestial contract formed, and the strange phenomena summoned by the most solemn vow of a cultivator dissipated entirely.

Blood still dripped from Li Fu’an’s finger, yet he seemed oblivious, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on He Qingsheng. “Is this enough?”

Suppressing her shock, He Qingsheng’s expression turned complex. She no longer resisted. “I’ll need to borrow your spiritual energy.”

Without hesitation, a surge of immense spiritual power flowed into the aquatic wood in He Qingsheng’s hand.

“That’s enough, no need for so much.” Since her death, He Qingsheng had never fought with such abundance.

She could see it now, this kid was treating this as a last-ditch effort.

He hadn’t verified whether He Qingsheng was truly Ming Zhi’s old friend, nor did he question why she claimed to know soul-gathering techniques yet couldn’t even wield spiritual energy.

All he cared about was whether the soul could be summoned.

Or rather, all he cared about was whether he could see Ming Zhi again.

His actions spoke of nothing but desperation to see her. He Qingsheng couldn’t find any other explanation.

Muttering inwardly, she activated the Fuliu Sect’s secret art once more.

The familiar technique brought with it a long-lost sense of spiritual energy.

The last time she had used it was over two months ago, to slaughter those damned elders of the Zhenyuan Sect.

Looking back now, it felt like a lifetime ago.

Unfortunately, this fleeting sense of “home” didn’t last.

The grand blue radiance persisted for only a few breaths before He Qingsheng hissed in pain, withdrawing her palm, scorched by the backlash of the spell.

As usual, there was nothing before them, no trace of a soul, not even a wisp of lingering energy.

He Qingsheng didn’t hide the process from Li Fu’an, allowing him to witness the entire ritual firsthand. There was no room for deception.

The only possibility now was that in this world, there existed no wandering soul named Ming Zhi.

To be precise, not even a living spirit.

He Qingsheng helplessly spread her hands. “As you can see.”

Li Fu’an’s expression remained unchanged, his lips still pressed into a straight line, revealing neither sorrow nor joy.

Yet, He Qingsheng had the eerie feeling that he was about to shatter.

Disturbed by her own thoughts, He Qingsheng offered some consolation: “My dear grand-nephew, don’t lose heart. Maybe Ming Zhi isn’t dead, just playing a prank, hiding from you.”

Li Fu’an stared at her coldly.

He Qingsheng: “…” Seems like I said the wrong thing.

“Ah, look at me, Ming Zhi must surely be…” He Qingsheng stumbled over her words, unable to find a plausible explanation, and finally blurted out, “Maybe if you do some good deeds, accumulate virtue, and make a wish to the heavens, Ming Zhi will just pop back into existence?”

“Young people shouldn’t be so pessimistic, and definitely shouldn’t go around plotting world-ending nonsense…”

He Qingsheng rambled on earnestly, trying to counsel him. Someone like Li Fu’an, dressed in black and mourning his master, was practically a textbook candidate for a novel’s villain.

The only question was whether any of it actually got through to him.

…

“So, you just sweet-talked a hidden master into helping you like that?” Qi Wan bit the end of her brush, eyes shining with admiration.

“Yep.” He Qingsheng crossed her legs, directing Yan Xingyi to mark up the map with strokes and circles.

Yan Xingyi scoffed at Qi Wan while sketching. “You actually believe her? Who knows how many versions of this story she’s chopped, edited, and embellished.”

“Then stop drawing.”

“Ancestor, better safe than sorry,” Yan Xingyi muttered under his breath, scribbling furiously. “After all, this concerns the lives of the entire city’s people.”

He Qingsheng rolled her eyes elegantly.

If Emperor Zhao’s infusion of baleful energy into the capital was meant to open breaches to the spirit realm in multiple locations, then the capital, and even the mortal world, couldn’t possibly have anomalies only at the Ying residence.

Through twists and turns, Li Fu’an searched all twelve celestial sectors but found not a single trace of Ming Zhi’s soul.

While passing through the northeastern Guanguang Sector, slaying a monstrous Qi Que for a minor sect, he stumbled upon this passage by chance.

A glimmer of hope in the darkest hour.

And so, he stepped into the mortal world to continue his search for Ming Zhi, where he encountered He Qingsheng.

He Qingsheng struck a deal with Li Fu’an: he would seal the breaches to the spirit realm appearing in the capital.

Li Fu’an agreed readily, though “readily” might be debatable.

He Qingsheng shrugged. “The outcome’s the same either way.”

Yan Xingyi frowned deeply as the red circles on the map grew denser. “The act of exchanging fates has already dragged in so many innocent lives.”

He Qingsheng glanced at the map, dozens of red circles formed a ring around the imperial palace.

Each circle represented a child, and as Yan Xingyi had said, it meant dozens of families torn apart.

He Qingsheng sighed silently and folded the map away.

The light barrier in the Ying residence reacted intensely to the vengeful ghosts of the commoners but showed no response to her, even though she was also a ghost.

When she and Li Fu’an tested it, they ruled out other variables. The only remaining explanation was that only the vengeful ghosts of mortals tainted by the fate-exchange ritual could disrupt the breaches to the spirit realm.

This dossier, compiled over years by Shang Lehe, Dai Xianyun, Prince Liang, and others, had been transformed into a map. With it, Li Fu’an could seal the breaches as swiftly and effectively as possible.

To prevent any ferocious beasts, monsters, or malevolent cultivators from the Twelve Walls from unpredictably emerging through the rifts.

He Qingsheng turned to leave.

Yan Xingyi called out to her, “Xiao He, why not have the grandmaster rest at the Imperial Preceptor’s residence? It would make communication much quicker.”

“No need. Cultivators should avoid unnecessary contact with ordinary people to prevent inadvertently entangling in karmic ties that could harm their cultivation,” He Qingsheng replied naturally.

“There’s such a saying?” Qi Wan exclaimed in surprise, looking to her master for confirmation, only to see Yan Xingyi wearing an equally enlightened expression.

Yan Xingyi was stunned, “Then what about you, Xiao He?”

He Qingsheng waved her hand, “It’s fine. I’m already dead anyway.”

Only after she had walked away did Qi Wan let out a soft gasp.

“Oh right, Master, Senior He is… deceased.”

Yan Xingyi didn’t respond to Qi Wan.

Qi Wan glanced at him and was startled by the cold, solemn emotion in his eyes. She had never seen her master with such a peculiar expression before and swallowed the question on the tip of her tongue, “Then what about Physician Ying?”

“What were you about to say?” Yan Xingyi turned to look at Qi Wan.

“Nothing.”

“Then focus on practicing your basics. The outside world is unstable, don’t keep thinking about running around.”

Listening to Yan Xingyi’s nagging, the strange unease Qi Wan had felt moments ago instantly dissipated, and she immediately relaxed.

“Understood, Master. Got it, Master. You’re absolutely right, Master.”

…

Outside the Imperial Preceptor’s residence.

He Qingsheng didn’t immediately seek out Li Fu’an. Instead, she randomly selected marked locations from Yan Xingyi’s map and visited each one.

Surprisingly, none had been overlooked or showed any anomalies.

Ordinary vengeful spirits and the vengeful spirits of children who had died due to fate-exchange intertwined. The places where ordinary vengeful spirits had been captured before were heavy with yin energy, but it didn’t affect the health of ordinary people.

However, anywhere even remotely connected to fate-exchange had caused the surrounding people to fall ill one after another.

The illnesses varied in severity, but no one was spared.

Clinics and pharmacies in the capital were suddenly overcrowded.

Watching the bustling figures inside Xinglin Residence, she paused briefly before heading to Li Fu’an’s lodgings.

At a street corner, He Qingsheng encountered Yu Fu.

“Ah, little senior sister, we meet again,” he said. A blue-green venomous snake slithered out from his sleeve, transforming into a beautiful woman upon hitting the ground. She stretched lazily, exuding a charming air.

She poked Yu Fu’s chest, “How rude, why aren’t you greeting your senior sister properly?”

“After today, you might not even get to see her soul again.”

Yu Fu’s expression darkened.

He Qingsheng glanced discreetly at the dense crowd below and smiled in response, “Little venomous snake, such a beauty like you, it’s fine if your diet is questionable, but you shouldn’t have such foul breath.”

“You! Hmph, how insolent!” Lan Shanqing’s pupils narrowed into vertical slits, her words laced with the hissing tone characteristic of serpentine demons. She shoved Yu Fu, “Why aren’t you attacking yet!”

He Qingsheng deliberately sought to shift the battlefield, subtly increasing the distance between them while the other two were preoccupied with their verbal sparring.

Seeing Lan Shanqing give chase, He Qingsheng secretly sighed in relief, at least her recent interactions with Physician Ying had been minimal.

Yu Fu and Lan Shanqing’s objective was unmistakable; every move they made radiated blatant killing intent.

While dodging, He Qingsheng thoughtfully shielded the capital’s structures from collateral damage.

After several exchanges, Lan Shanqing noticed this pattern and redirected her attacks mid-strike, aiming instead for the mortals below.

A surge of baleful energy sliced through the venomous miasma.

He Qingsheng sneered at Yu Fu, “Your little lover can slaughter cultivators in the Twelve Walls without fearing heavenly retribution, but if she harms mortals here, she might not remain unscathed for long.”

“Won’t you intervene?”

Lan Shanqing had slaughtered the entire Yu family of Chuancheng Wall. Within the Twelve Walls, such acts could still be explained as the law of the jungle, beyond the constraints of heavenly principles.

But in the mortal realm, a place protected by the laws of heaven, killing mortals might not be so easily resolved.

Yu Fu’s face turned pale, then flushed red, then pale again. It was unclear whether he was angered by He Qingsheng’s remark about “your little lover” or genuinely worried for Lan Shanqing.

All he did was snap, “Fool, don’t stir up unnecessary trouble.”

Lan Shanqing gritted her teeth and glared at Yu Fu. “Fine, I’ll take that as concern.”

In an instant, the two seemed to reach an unspoken agreement. Their powers merged as they launched a joint attack against He Qingsheng.