But I'm a proper river god, you know! - Chapter 63

Qi Yan let out a muffled groan, vomiting a mouthful of blood. As the sword energy in his chest slowly dissipated, his soul also began to fracture, teetering on the brink of total annihilation.

“He’s dealt himself a fatal blow,” Yuan Ji stated with certainty. Though puzzled as to why a strand of Qi Yan’s sword energy had been concealed within her own heart, she quickly grasped the urgency of the situation. Any further delay, and he would truly fulfill that prophecy.

“Let’s get out of here first.”

“Are we going back to the River God Temple, Yuan Ji?” A Tong had already managed to relocate the temple’s coordinates. They could leave soon.

“No.” Yuan Ji paused briefly to consider. “We need to find a quiet, secluded place.”

The River God Temple was currently too unsettled; it wasn’t suitable for stabilizing Qi Yan’s soul.

“Then I’ll search for one right away.” A Tong quickly scanned their surroundings and soon pinpointed a valley. “Found one. It’s completely deserted and rich in spiritual energy, perfect for soul restoration. A river happens to run through it, which the system detected. Let’s go there.”

Yuan Ji gave a slight nod, and in an instant, the two of them, along with A Tong, vanished from the spot. Before Wu Du could even process what was happening, a powerful force yanked him along.

“Aaaaaah!” Wu Du screamed uncontrollably, clutching the stone close to his chest, refusing to let go. His heart was filled with utter despair.

It’s over. They’re taking me to some unknown place to silence me for good.

How unfortunate my fate is—not only did I fail to protect my master’s belongings, but now I can’t even find someone to entrust with his relics.

Instantly, tears of regret streamed down Wu Du’s face.

In the blink of an eye, the Blood-Drinking Treasure Glaze—or rather, what was left of it after the loss of the crimson stone and Wu Du’s suppression—was now little more than an empty namesake of a minor array. The tens of thousands of trapped vengeful spirits within could break free at any moment.

“Yuan Ji, what if those vengeful spirits escape?” A Tong clung fearfully to Yuan Ji’s shoulder, glancing back apprehensively. “They won’t hurt the people outside, will they?”

“That can’t happen. I sense many villagers have already gathered outside the River God Temple. If those spirits get out, all hell will break loose. Yuan Ji, say something!”

A Tong rambled on anxiously, his tone dripping with panic and despair, as if the sky were about to fall.

Yuan Ji shot him a suspicious glance, wondering how A Tong could be so clever one moment and so clueless the next.

“Little Lei is still there.” With it around, what was there to fear?

A Tong was taken aback by her response. “Little Lei? Oh, right! How could I have forgotten about it!”

“Hahaha, Yuan Ji, you think of everything!” A Tong laughed. “The Thunder Serpent was born from heavenly tribulation—it’s the natural bane of vengeful spirits. Those spirits wouldn’t dare make a move under a sky full of thunder serpents.”

The mere thought of that scene made A Tong break into a grin.

In the blink of an eye, Yuan Ji and the others arrived at an unfamiliar place.

The location was indeed as desolate as A Tong had described. Nestled in a valley, it was shrouded in dense mist and damp air, thick with miasma and an eerie, ghostly aura. The path ahead was completely obscured from view.

Yuan Ji steadied Qi Yan, supporting him as he stood. She couldn’t tell if it was her imagination, but the demonic energy around them seemed to have grown stronger.

She turned to look at Qi Yan, her lips parting slightly, but before she could speak, she met a pair of profound, depthless eyes.

Yuan Ji froze for a moment. Those eyes held too many emotions she couldn’t decipher. A moment later, she retrieved a Soul-Restoring Pill and pressed it against Qi Yan’s lips. “Take this. It will help you recover.”

Contrary to her expectations, Qi Yan did not swallow the pill. Instead, he pinched it between his fingers, then gently grasped Yuan Ji’s hand and pushed the pill back into her palm.

A startling chill spread from Qi Yan’s fingertips to Yuan Ji’s hand.

So cold.

Colder than river water.

“Sorry.” Qi Yan released her hand after that brief contact. Before he could finish his sentence, he coughed up several mouthfuls of fresh blood. The blood seeped into the damp, cold soil, quickly staining it dark.

Qi Yan’s face grew deathly pale. The sword energy was too powerful—not only had it shattered his soul, but it had also made it difficult for him to maintain his physical form. With great effort, he reached out to hand a storage ring to Yuan Ji.

“It’s useless… to me. Don’t… waste it.”

“I owed you… This is my… repayment.”

“In the future… just forget about me.”

As his words faded, the unique storage ring adorned with scroll-like patterns fell to the ground, stained with blood and filth.

Qi Yan had fulfilled the prophecy.

His body and soul had scattered.

The small valley fell into complete silence, as if even the mist had frozen in that moment.

A Tong stared blankly at Yuan Ji, who stood with her head bowed in silence. He opened his mouth, unsure how to comfort her. “Yuan Ji…”

“Yuan Ji, this isn’t your fault. You…”

The coldness on her fingertips had already faded, yet Yuan Ji still felt an icy chill deep within.

How讨厌.

Yuan Ji looked up, cutting A Tong off. “A Tong, I’ve seen him before.”

“Huh? Yuan Ji, are you too grief-stricken? Why would you say something like that?” A Tong pressed against Yuan Ji’s forehead. She didn’t seem feverish. “I know you’re sad that Qi Yan is gone, but you need to pull yourself together.”

“A Tong, in my memory, he killed me.” Yuan Ji paid no attention to A Tong’s words. A strange, numb sensation in her chest left her feeling unsettled. Unlike the sharp pain of a blade piercing her heart in her memory, this felt more like ants gnawing at her, leaving her uneasy.

“Who am I, really? A Tong, how can I quickly collect the fragments of my memory?”

A Tong hesitated, remaining silent for a long time before slowly answering, “We can only obtain fragments by completing missions.”

“Fine.” Yuan Ji picked up the scroll-patterned ring from the ground and slipped it onto her finger, nodding indifferently. “Let’s go.”

This place was too cold.

It was despicable.

But just as she took a step forward, a faint rustling sound came from within the thick fog behind her, like the friction of fabric against fabric. Realizing the sound had been noticed, Wu Du, hidden in the fog, pressed himself even closer to the ground, as though he could avoid detection that way.

“Crap, didn’t see me, didn’t see me,” Wu Du chanted frantically in his mind.

Yet this act of self-deception was quickly discovered.

Yuan Ji stared at him for a moment, as if struck by a sudden realization. “My memory is related to him.”

“What?” A Tong was stunned.

“But he left without giving me the answers.”

“I’m a little angry now.”

For the first time, Yuan Ji behaved like a petulant child. She found what she was looking for in the storage ring Qi Yan had left behind.

“Yuan Ji, what is this?” A Tong asked, eyeing the three plump worms wriggling in a small jar with disgust.

Yuan Ji didn’t like them either, but to get the answers she sought, she had to endure the revulsion and manipulate them. “Tracking Gu.”

She hooked her finger, and a wisp of residual aura in the air was captured by a white light and fed to the Tracking Gu.

As soon as the aura attached itself to the Gu, it sizzled and burned, emitting tendrils of black smoke. In less than a moment, the Gu turned to ash.

Yuan Ji pressed her lips together tightly, capturing another wisp of aura and trying again.

Similarly, the second Tracking Gu failed.

Watching the third Tracking Gu trembling and cowering in a corner, Yuan Ji’s eyes darkened. The pressure around her dropped so low it felt suffocating.

Third attempt.

This time, the aura obediently attached itself to the white light and carefully merged with the Tracking Gu. In an instant, faint specks of light began to shimmer.

Success.

“So, he lied to me after all,” Yuan Ji snorted coldly. But she didn’t notice that the curve of her lips had softened slightly.

Thousands of miles away, the extinguishing of Qi Yan’s soul lamp at the Tianji Sect symbolized the fall of their head disciple, Qi Yan. Elder Hanshi, overwhelmed with grief, led countless cultivators from the sect to search for the truth.

At the same time, in a certain secret realm, a pair of sharp phoenix eyes snapped open. An overwhelming aura surged outward, and a crowd of people clad in black robes prostrated themselves on the ground.

“Welcome back, Honored Master.”