Chapter 61: Past events, a fleeting dream of life

Past events, a fleeting dream of life.

Fu Guang only felt herself sinking into a sweet dreamland.

Her consciousness was clear, yet she was intoxicated in the dark, deep dream, unable to wake, not knowing how much time had passed.

Before her eyes appeared only a tiny speck of light.

Everything before her eyes was familiar yet strange, as if seen just yesterday, yet long ago it had become past events.

Several bolts of purple-gold lightning came down head-on, filling the pupils of the woman standing in midair.

Her long sleeves fluttered backward with the airflow, the thunder's roar mingling with the sound of the sleeves whipped by the wind.

Not far away were streaks of Flowing Light Formation, light clusters wrapping numerous refined medicinal ingredients; Fu Guang remained unmoved, calmly and orderly combining the ingredients.

The grand formation and defensive magical devices around her shattered one after another under the thunder's bombardment.

Here there was no alchemist's cauldron, only the woman's bare hands; she combined the medicinal ingredients and extracted them.

With the woman's movements, a refreshing medicinal fragrance arose, making anyone who smelled it shudder throughout their body.

The thick clouds above rolled, and purple-gold mixed with pure-black tribulation lightning appeared within, accumulating the tribulation; it seemed the next strike would take Fu Guang's life.

Eighty-one God-Exterminating Thunder Tribulations are required to take the life of one who defies the world.

She understood that when this pill came into the world, it would be her time of death.

Using heaven and earth as the furnace, taking the spiritual qi of the world as the fire, with the fate of all beings supporting it—who could refine this furnace of pills?

Only she could; as an alchemist capable of refining this furnace of Heaven-Earth Pill, what obstacle could there be? Even death would be no problem.

As the pill's shape formed, the woman's surrounding formations were utterly shattered, ceasing to function; thunderbolts struck her directly, the lightning seeming to annihilate her.

The woman's eyes shone bright, a mad smile rose on her face; spiritual qi mixed with blood poured from her seven orifices, merging into the pill.

Her vital energy waned at extreme speed, as if it would scatter with the wind in the next moment.

Jumping arcs of electricity flowed through her body, each spot feeling a tearing pain; sensing the dissipation of spiritual qi, after all her cultivation, everything drifted away with the wind.

Her laughter shook her chest, the pill before her dripped and swirled; all spiritual qi across the Nine Provinces and Eight Wastelands was drawn to it.

Heaven and earth trembled; everyone, whether cultivator or ordinary person, simultaneously looked toward the peak of Absolute Mountain.

The woman, heedless of her frail body, had eyes only for the pill about to condense.

In the instant the pill condensed, the woman's entire form turned into spiritual qi and dissipated.

Hahaha, no regrets in this life! Only the woman's exuberant laughter filled heaven and earth, fully venting the qi in her chest.

All cultivators who have achieved success, upon death, return their entire bodily spiritual qi to heaven and earth.

Even if she were a top-tier alchemist, Fu Guang could not escape the mundane.

In the past, Fu Guang thought death was both near and far; there were always many who wanted her life, yet she could always carve a bloody path out relying on herself.

Until, under the thunder, her corporeal form vanished and her spiritual awareness was worn away, she couldn't help but think that originally, everything returning to oblivion felt like this.

Before her eyes lay chaos; the floating soul, after an unknown span of time, opened its eyes once more.

A white canopy came into clear view before her; she blinked and sat up.

The room was simple, containing only a bed; the four walls gleamed with a metallic sheen, faintly reflecting 'her' silhouette.

'She' lowered her head; in her peripheral vision, a small silver ring on her little finger reflected a glint of light.

Where is this?

She tried to raise her hand, but her body would not obey her command; she tried to close her eyes, yet noticed 'her' probing information on the circular bracelet on her wrist.

Bracelet, what is a bracelet?

She did not know.

She remained silent, wondering if this was her soul leaving the body and possessing someone else.

Her mind was a blank chaos, as if it had not been used for a long time.

She did not know who she was, nor whether she was possessing this body or being squeezed out of it.

She could not move, could not speak, could not free herself from this body, only able to observe through the eyes of the woman she possessed.

The woman rose; her field of view was lower than before, suggesting she was a bit shorter than Fu Guang.

She thought.

A light screen displayed on the bracelet showed many images, none of which she recognized.

The weak spiritual form idly pondered.

Almost every second, the font on the screen changed; though the characters looked familiar—still horizontal, vertical, left-falling, right-falling strokes—she could not understand them.

As a desperate illiterate, unable to read the text, she could not determine the time or place she was in.

Moreover, she did not know who she was, or where she was.

The woman tapped the screen, and suddenly a man's voice sounded, startling the weak spiritual form.

How did this screen just produce sound?

It was a male voice, babbling unintelligibly, still incomprehensible.

'I understand, I'll be there soon.' A gentle yet weak female voice rang out softly.

It seemed that because she possessed this body, she could effortlessly understand the woman's words.

From somewhere came a clear flute sound, like a stream's ding-dong accompanied by a few 'chirp-chirp' bird calls, attracting Fu Guang's confused consciousness lost in sleep.

She left that body, floating in the air to look down upon the woman inside the room and the newly awakened, memory-lost her.

The flute melody was pleasant, gradually becoming clearer, still lingering by her ears.

Fu Guang opened her eyes; before her stood a man with his head slightly tilted, his dark hair bound by a hairpin, the rest flowing loose behind him, his profile visible.

Long eyelashes veiled his eyes; a jade flute sounded from beneath his pink lips.

Fu Guang sat up; the thin blanket slipped from her, and a greenish little bird, seeing her awake, flew into her embrace.

"Chirp-chirp-chirp" it called, as if saying, "You're awake."

The flute sound gradually faded; Qing Feng sat at the head of Fu Guang's bed, eyes fixed on the girl, his voice two degrees lower than usual: "Awake?"

"Mm." Fu Guang's voice hoarse, she took the warm water Qing Feng handed over, "How many days have I slept?"

"Three days." Qing Feng lowered his gaze, placing the hand holding the emerald jade flute on the bed, "That protective barrier heals the mind and bodily injuries."

"What a fine ability." Fu Guang held the water cup, her eyes slightly curved, returning the words with a beaming smile.

Upon noticing Qing Feng's worried eyes, Fu Guang startled, wondering if her prolonged sleep had made Qing Feng think she was mentally wounded.

"I had a dream." Fu Guang looked at the lively green bird and said, "Now I also can't quite tell whether I'm dreaming now or just was."

Past events, a genuine death, she thought she would not open her eyes as Fu Guang.

Perhaps after countless eons of reincarnation, she will return to this world again, but with a different identity and name, remembering nothing of being Fu Guang.

Heaven pitied her, changed her time and space, letting her awaken again.

Although she now knows nothing of what happened in the dream, she has actually pondered how she survived under the Nine Hundred Eleven God-Slaying Tribulations.

Although everything has been reset, she is still alive.

How did she arrive in this world? When did she awaken? Is this body hers?

As if lost in a mist, she cannot see clearly, cannot discern.

Now that she is alive, whether she knows these problems or not, they are actually unimportant and will not affect her current life.

Origins and destinations—for her now, it is not yet the time to explore.

The little green bird struggled to squeeze into the crook of her arm, its warm feathers pressed against her bare arm, warm and cozy.

The blonde-haired maiden set down the water cup, stroked the green bird's wings, her red lips slightly parting, "Indeed, life is but a dream."