Please, Don’t Die - Chapter 57

The soul transference technique was unstable. The remnants of He Qingsheng’s soul and her primary spirit flickered back and forth across thousands of miles of mountains and rivers.

Her power waxed and waned. Seizing the moment when her primary soul took over, she gathered her strength in full.

Mian Rihui, his eyes bloodshot with killing intent, was held at bay by Li Fu’an, who stood before him with sword in hand, desperately buying time.

Scarlet magma erupted from the towering pillars, mingling with Mian Rihui’s golden petals, coiling through the air like serpents.

The heavens and earth darkened.

Hundreds of talismans converged and activated, forcefully suppressing the apocalyptic force of the magma pillars.

A sword array unfurled behind Li Fu’an, countless blades poised to strike.

The flames of extreme yang surged, and He Qingsheng could almost feel the scorching heat bearing down on her.

Where the crimson dragon passed, the earth was scorched for miles, turning to dust and ashes.

For a ghostly form, suffering such a blow would be no less agonizing than enduring the torments of hell.

He Qingsheng’s primary soul and remnants switched rapidly, yet her position remained unmoved.

Though the enemy advanced with overwhelming force, she stood unshaken.

The crimson light reflected in Mian Rihui’s eyes, revealing his expression of absolute confidence.

The crimson dragon’s assault was relentless.

Li Fu’an’s sword array still did not divert a single blade for defense, all were launched forward in a preemptive strike, sealing Mian Rihui’s retreat.

It was an exceedingly bold tactic. Had the one making the decision not been utterly certain, the only outcome awaiting them would be death.

Before He Qingsheng’s eyes, one moment there was an endless hell of withered ancient trees and decaying flowers, the next a serene scene of falling snow in the mortal world.

In her ears, there was the piercing shriek of the crimson dragon tearing through the air, the soft rustle of snow in a small courtyard, Mian Rihui’s cautious taunts, careful not to reveal any hint of his sinister schemes, the resonant hum of Li Fu’an’s sword, clear and deadly, the laughter and chatter of a crowd, mingled with vows of eternal love…

Amidst the chaos of the world, she saw a single figure. He asked her, “Will you play in the snow with me?”

Play in the snow? Simple. Right away.

The primary soul was set.

He Qingsheng’s eyes snapped open, her bloodstained skirts billowing as she shot forth like an arrow from a bow, unstoppable as a general charging through ten thousand soldiers to claim the enemy commander’s head, heading straight for the crimson dragon’s back.

Li Fu’an followed close behind, his target firmly locked on Mian Rihui.

Under the combined assault of their two formidable attacks, Mian Rihui dodged and weaved, but from the very beginning, they had laid an inescapable net.

“Godslayer, annihilate!”

The black-and-crimson net of light tightened, closing in for the kill.

Faced with the overwhelming onslaught of blades, Mian Rihui’s wary expression vanished, replaced by wild laughter. “You think to slay me with the Godslayer?”

“None of the techniques created by Siming could touch me! For mere whelps to think they can kill me with this, wishful thinking!”

He Qingsheng raised an eyebrow. So, the rumors of Mian Rihui’s grudge against the Immortal Lord Siming were not unfounded after all.

Yet, she smiled faintly. “Who told you this was the Godslayer?”

The black-and-crimson baleful energy surged endlessly. Mian Rihui dispersed it, only for it to gather again. Unable to break free from the net of light, his safe space dwindled rapidly, his expression growing increasingly grim.

“I just got used to it and couldn’t be bothered to come up with another name.” He Qingsheng’s eyes gleamed red as countless threads of baleful energy coiled around her fingertips, converging upon Mian Rihui.

The foremost thread slipped into the space between his brows.

No! Soul theft! Mian Rihui raised a hand, sending a beam of light into his own mind, racing against time to erase all memories.

But He Qingsheng still managed to seize a fragment.

Her pupils trembled. Though she fought to suppress her emotions, a trace of shock leaked through.

In Mian Rihui’s memory fragment, she saw her master, the True Lord Ling Xuan!

Her master and Mian Rihui were not enemies, nor had they ever fought. Instead, many years ago, they had both encountered, Ling Yu.

The Foundation Establishment Pill that Ling Yu possessed was a gift from her master, Ling Xuan.

To her, these were two people who belonged to completely different worlds, yet their paths had crossed years ago.

Fragments of memory flashed back, freezing on the moment when Ling Xuan had taught Mian Rihui the life-exchange technique.

A profound sense of absurdity suddenly welled up in He Qingsheng’s heart. Her techniques had been taught to her by her master, and much of her understanding of the Twelve Walls also came from Ling Xuan.

Yet now, the things her master had taught her stood in complete contradiction to his own actions.

Mian Rihui, bereft of his memories, relied on instinct to evade danger. As He Qingsheng absorbed these memories, she kept a close watch on his movements.

A split second before he could flee, a surge of baleful energy swallowed up most of Mian Rihui’s form.

As for the remaining half, a tightly wrapped figure in black tore through the air, paying no heed to He Qingsheng. Grabbing Mian Rihui by the back of his collar, the figure yanked him into a spatial rift.

“Master!” He Qingsheng shouted, lunging forward to stop them. The figure merely glanced at her in puzzlement, plucked a petal from Mian Rihui’s form, and flicked it casually in her direction, as if shooing away a small animal.

Confident to the point of arrogance, the figure didn’t spare another glance at the outside world. The rift closed, and Mian Rihui vanished from sight.

That soft petal, just as the black-clad figure had intended, pierced effortlessly through He Qingsheng’s soul, embedding itself deep into her organs.

A single petal, yet she couldn’t even block a single petal.

Fine cracks split open across her abdomen, and the agony of her soul being torn apart amplified billions of times in an instant. He Qingsheng gasped sharply, biting down hard on her lip as her trembling hands pressed baleful energy into the wound.

Li Fu’an darted closer, slapping a Soul-Gathering Talisman onto He Qingsheng without hesitation.

The restorative effects of the talisman were nearly negligible for her.

Li Fu’an asked, “Was that the Venerable Ling Xuan?” To strike so ruthlessly?

“No, I was bluffing,” He Qingsheng replied, sitting cross-legged on the ground, struggling to steady her voice. “Li Fu’an of the Immortal Path’s Oversight, the fate of the world is inverted, and all living beings face calamity. Your master’s lifeforce lies within this disaster.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Ming Zhi… she and I… come from the same place.”

Amid the soul-rending pain, another possibility suddenly struck her, another reason why Ming Zhi’s spirit was absent here: she, too, might have been one of those from another world who had crossed over in that vehicle.

Half of Mian Rihui’s soul scattered and withered away.

He Qingsheng could barely string her words together now. Ignoring the gathering thunderbolts in the sky, she summoned every last trace of baleful energy she could muster.

With it, she clung to the last shreds of her consciousness. After relaying her message to Li Fu’an, her vision darkened, and her awareness plunged into chaos.

…

On the day Li Fu’an returned to the capital, the winter sun blazed warmly. The accumulated snow melted away, turning into a steady drip of icy water that fell from the eaves, landing squarely on Ying Qujie’s forehead.

Like a localized rain shower.

“That’s the situation,” Li Fu’an recounted flatly, summarizing the harrowing battle in just a few words. “With this matter concluded, the Venerable He returned to her sect on her way back. Since I’m still searching for someone in the mortal realm, she entrusted me to deliver her farewell to the physician.”

She had returned to her sect on the way, so she hadn’t even bothered to bid him goodbye in person…

Ying Qujie’s hands, hidden in his sleeves, clenched around the small wooden puppet, the pressure leaving red marks on his palm, yet he remained oblivious.

The corner of his mouth twitched. He wanted to ask if there had been any other message, but what came out was merely a quiet, “Thank you.”

Having lost too much blood earlier, his complexion still appeared somewhat pale, like a delicate piece of carved jade amidst the icy wilderness.

Li Fu’an shook his head and turned to leave.

Inside the little wooden puppet’s abdomen lay a white jade pendant, beneath which blood-red veins coiled. Ying Qujie picked it up, accidentally brushing against the red bracelet on his wrist, producing a crisp ding sound.

He startled, terrified that the jade might have damaged the bracelet, or the bracelet the jade.

His grip on the pendant tightened until his fingertips split open, fresh blood seeping in, deepening the hue of the patterns beneath.

The mark grew clearer.

Suddenly struck by a thought, Ying Qujie hurried after Li Fu’an, intercepting him with a bow. “I beg the immortal to reveal the truth.”

“There’s no need for the immortal to hesitate.” Ying Qujie presented the white jade pendant. “This jade is proof that He Qingsheng and I were of one heart. Though I am but a mortal, I am capable of bearing the truth. I refuse to believe she would vanish without even a farewell.”

Li Fu’an narrowed his eyes. The stubbornness in the young man’s gaze mirrored his own.

In a way, their current predicaments were strikingly similar.

Realizing this, a mischievous impulse rose in Li Fu’an. He had already helped He Qingsheng so much, what harm could one more omission do?

“Physician Ying is astute. The Venerable He…”

Li Fu’an’s words left Ying Qujie stunned for a long time.

Her soul had inexplicably fallen into slumber, perhaps for a day, perhaps a century.

A day, a year, even a decade, he could wait. But a hundred years, a thousand? He did not have that much time to spare.

And besides injury, what else could cause a soul to slumber?

“Physician, do not trouble yourself. Fate governs all encounters. If destiny wills it, you will meet again.” With a cryptic smile, Li Fu’an vanished on the spot.

He had spoken only a word, offering nothing more.

From snow-laden capital to spring’s return, the city remained peaceful, untouched by further anomalies.

Yet Ying Qujie’s heart knew no rest from that moment on.

The words fate governs all encounters haunted him.

The first month, he dripped blood into the white jade pendant. The second, he grew accustomed to carrying the little wooden puppet with him everywhere. The third, he took it along to treat patients, hoping to accumulate even the faintest blessings to offer that wandering soul…

But the pendant, the puppet, the red bracelet, none showed any sign of life.

One night, Ying Qujie mounted a swift horse and rode south, reaching the depths of Jimo’s mountains in just three days.

The golden flower fields that once cascaded from the slopes to the valley were gone. After scouring the ruins and withered trees, he found only a weathered wooden plaque.

Cradling it in his arms, he searched for the burial site, only to despair, the land’s seal was now unbreakable.

He could not move even a speck of earth.

On the plaque, the characters for He Qingsheng’s Grave were broken and illegible, but Erected by Friend Ying Qujie remained as clear as the day they were carved.

His fingers traced his own name, the sting a cruel reminder, from their very first meeting, he had buried his beloved with his own hands.

Yes, he understood now, this relentless longing, the reason his heart raced at the flutter of a curtain, the love that had taken root in his soul.

But with this clarity came agony. The dull ache of the past sharpened into a blade, rending him apart until he was unrecognizable, drenched in blood.

The sensation He Qingsheng left him was cold and chilling, yet when they first met, the person in his arms had been warm.

Once, he had the chance to save her, but he failed…

In the cool spring breeze, Ying Qujie sat all night, embracing the wooden grave marker.

Beneath this earth lay his beloved. He sat atop his lover’s grave, letting his love grow wild and unrestrained.

Love breeds sorrow and fear.

From Ying Qujie’s love, endless resentment was born.