Chapter 375
Chapter 375: Heart Probe
Behind a semi-transparent, hazy barrier, Yuan Hao and Yuan He watched the black-robed cultivator sitting blankly on the prison bed. After a long pause, Immortal Yuan He hesitated and said, “He looks pretty well-fed.”
“They only pumped him up these past two days,” Yu Sheng said from the side, casual as ever. “I heard they feed him more than a dozen different elixirs a day. That stuff’s nutritious and absorbs fast, and there’s even someone helping with refining…”
Immortal Yuan Hao thought it over, then turned to Yuan Ling. “Junior Brother, have you considered this? Next time you make these elixirs for heretical prisoners, concentrate them a bit. Make them hit harder and save yourself some trouble.”
“Hey, you can’t just concentrate an elixir however you like. If it’s too strong, it’s bad for the body. You need balancing and soothing ingredients mixed in.” Immortal Yuan Ling sounded dead serious. “Besides, even if he’s a heretical prisoner, I’m still a healer. A healer must have a kind heart. I even prescribe him half a jin of qi-calming powder every day.”
No sooner had he finished than the veiled female guard lowered her head. “Master, the last two times he took his medicine, his instinctive resistance has gotten worse. Even under hallucination, he still struggles now and then.”
Immortal Yuan Ling raised an eyebrow. “Then add another half a jin of qi-calming powder, and have him take it with two jin of replenishing soup.”
He stroked his beard and sighed. “Such is the benevolent heart of a healer.”
Yuan Hao and Yuan He both shuddered. Yuan He muttered to his senior brother, “I think Second Senior Brother is doing it on purpose.”
“No kidding,” Immortal Yuan Hao said.
As they spoke, Immortal Yuan Ling was already making an incantation gesture at the cell entrance. The misty light curtain covering the room flickered, and an opening appeared where the door should have been.
“Xuan Che, you and Lin Lang stay at the entrance,” Immortal Yuan Ling said. “We’re going in to question him.”
Xuan Che and the guard woman bowed at once. “Yes.”
Carrying Irene on his shoulder, Yu Sheng followed the three of them into the bare cell—empty except for a single bed—that looked completely ordinary.
The instant he crossed the misty curtain, the world lurched. A strange lag crawled across his senses. The cell stretched and expanded; the walls and ceiling silently fell away, and reality slid into an illusion.
In the next blink, he stood in a desolate mountain forest. A winding path cut through the trees. The sky hung dark and drizzling, turning the road into a muddy mess. By the roadside sat a tiny tea stall, barely bigger than a hut, with a patched awning over it. A thin layer of spiritual energy shimmered around the stall, holding back the endless mountain rain. From the eaves hung a small jade token, and in front of it a sign projected a single word: “Tea.”
Up ahead, Yuan Ling, Yuan Hao, and Yuan He had somehow become travelers in straw raincoats and bamboo hats, walking naturally along the muddy trail. Yu Sheng blinked and realized he was dressed the same—and Irene was tucked inside his raincoat, pressed against his chest.
“This is fun,” Little Doll muttered from inside. “Way more delicate than a normal dream!”
By the time Yu Sheng looked up, the three of them were already stepping under the tea stall’s awning, like passersby taking shelter from the rain. There were only a few tables and a handful of guests. At one table sat the black-robed cultivator, dressed and posed exactly as he had been in the cell, sitting lifelessly with unfocused eyes, as if he had been here for years.
Yu Sheng followed them under the awning. A few travelers glanced up at him and then went back to their own conversations. Immortal Yuan Ling went straight to the black-robed cultivator and sat across from him. Yuan Hao and Yuan He quietly took seats in two different corners, as if anchoring the illusion in place.
“Come, sit,” Immortal Yuan Ling said, waving Yu Sheng over.
Yu Sheng took the empty seat beside the black-robed cultivator.
Fine rain hissed against the awning in a steady patter, a sound that made the mind go heavy and the heart sink for no clear reason.
The black-robed cultivator slowly lifted his head to stare at the unexpected visitors. After a long time, he mumbled as if half-asleep, “Has the mountain road opened?”
“Not yet.” Immortal Yuan Ling took off his bamboo hat and set it beside the table. His voice was unhurried. “The rain is heavier over there.”
“This rain has been falling for a long time. I can’t even remember when it started.” The cultivator’s tone stayed dull. “I remember sitting here the whole time. The sky never gets dark, and it never gets bright. People come, people go, but I just keep sitting here… You’re from outside, aren’t you? What does it look like out there now?”
“Outside is rain, a small road, and travelers hiding from the downpour.”
“And outside is a tea awning too?”
“A tea awning too.”
A creaking squeal came from nearby. Yu Sheng looked up to see an old automaton in a gray cloth shirt roll out of a little house beside the awning. A paper mask with the word “Servant” painted across it covered its face. It carried a tea tray, but beneath its body were squealing wheels. The mechanical attendant rolled to the table, set down several bowls of tea, and let out a greeting that sounded more like static than speech.
The black-robed cultivator glanced at the automaton. “It’s been here with me for so many years it’s even started to rust.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Immortal Yuan Ling asked, as casually as if chatting about the weather.
The cultivator froze, then slowly shook his head. “No.”
“Where’s your hometown?” Immortal Yuan Ling asked.
The cultivator frowned. Even in his muddled state, a flicker of struggle and hesitation rose in his eyes.
Immortal Yuan Ling saw it, but his expression didn’t change. Calmly, he said, “I’ve been to a place called Shu Ji.”
The struggle in the cultivator’s eyes turned into a tremble of his pupils, as if something in him snapped into focus for a breath. He blanked for a few seconds, then spoke like a sleep-talker. “Ah, Shu Ji. It’s a beautiful planet. At night, flower boats parade through the city…”
“Does it always rain on that planet?” Immortal Yuan Ling asked softly—gentle enough to sound like a question, steady enough to feel like guidance.
The cultivator’s eyes slowly closed. “…Yes. The big cities near the equator, it’s always raining. Four hundred days a year.”
With a low hum, the world shifted.
The gloomy sky deepened into night. The forest on both sides wavered, then blinked into countless neon towers. Modern high-rises rose into the rain, yet some still bore carved beams and painted rafters, spiritual energy lifting them in an immortal style. The muddy path became a wide street lit by lampposts. Rain hammered the pavement, sending ripples skittering across puddles that reflected the border city’s lights.
Not far away, a canopy boat wrapped in talisman light drifted between buildings with scattered tourists aboard. An automaton bird, a spirit mirror clenched in its beak, perched atop a streetlamp and scanned the streets with sharp vigilance. Three or five young men came through the rain with umbrellas, laughing as they brushed past the edge of the tea awning.
Inside the awning, the old automaton in a gray shirt had become a graceful woman in a simple white dress, wearing a silver-fox mask. Soft ticking came from the machinery hidden beneath her skin.
Even the shabby mountain tea stall had turned into a brightly lit roadside teahouse. Near the counter, a spirit mirror floated in midair, its projection showing immortal mountains and auspicious clouds as it played a tourism clip promoting the Thousand Peak Spirit Mountain.
The black-robed cultivator lifted his head, staring sluggishly at the city around him. After a long while, a faint spark finally lit in his eyes.
Immortal Yuan Ling’s voice landed at just the right moment. “If home is this good, why go out at all?”
The cultivator hesitated, then muttered as if talking to himself, “Yeah. Why go out…”
A beat passed. He shook his head. “I have to find that thing, or I’ll never sleep peacefully for long…”
Immortal Yuan Ling watched his eyes. His voice stayed low. “Find what—the emperor lord’s legacy?”
“The emperor lord’s legacy… yes, the emperor lord’s legacy.” The cultivator’s gaze wavered, but he nodded. “Once I find it, everything will be steady.”
“Who told you to go look for it?” Immortal Yuan Ling asked immediately.
Hesitation surged again, but the cultivator didn’t answer.
Immortal Yuan Ling didn’t let the silence build. He switched tracks without warning. “How is Yun Qing Zi, Elder Senior?”
The cultivator went blank, as if the logic he’d just assembled was cut clean in half. Two full seconds passed before he answered, still dazed. “Benefactor… Benefactor is fine, but also not fine.
“His injuries recovered, but he said his heart demons are unresolved. He has to find the emperor lord’s legacy before he can feel at ease.”
Yu Sheng met Immortal Yuan Ling’s eyes.
Everything matched.
“So what exactly is the emperor lord’s legacy?” Immortal Yuan Ling leaned in, staring into the cultivator’s eyes. “Why does Yun Qing Zi only feel at ease if he gets it?”
“The emperor lord’s legacy… is the emperor lord’s legacy.” The cultivator’s voice stayed muddy. “Benefactor said that once we find it, we’ll naturally understand. He said it holds tremendous power—power to reshape heaven and earth. Benefactor wants that power.
“He also said his heart demons are very heavy, but we don’t understand. He’s someone who can soar through skies and seas, move mountains, fill oceans—so why does he still seem to fear something?
“He won’t tell us. He says our cultivation is too shallow, that hearing it would only add needless worry. Better to stay ignorant and be blessed.”
Yu Sheng listened without interrupting, but his chest tightened.
Yun Qing Zi was obsessed with finding the emperor lord’s legacy because he was afraid of something.
[Was it connected to the unknown enemy he had faced a thousand years ago?]