Chapter 1951

At the dock, a narrow, elongated small boat three zhang in length was moored; the boat was entirely made of metal, floating on the silver-colored river. Hu Xiaotian inferred from the texture of the river's liquid that the riverbed must be flowing entirely with mercury. The vapor emitted by mercury is toxic; although they possessed high martial arts, they still held their breath as Hong Beimo boarded the small boat.

The small boat had no oars; after everyone boarded, Hong Beimo activated it, and the boat drifted downstream with the current. Along the riverbanks stood watchtowers and pagodas built right by the water, each structure crystal clear and multicolored; on closer inspection, they were entirely piled from various gemstones, decorated with uniformly sized Night Pearls. Hu Xiaotian secretly sighed, the treasury of Da Kang Guo was empty, and most of the wealth amassed over the past few decades had been sent here. Hong Beimo had spent his entire life constructing an underground kingdom of unparalleled wealth within the imperial mausoleum, but his aim was not limited to that.

Moving forward, one could see a nine-story tower rising from the center of the river; its shape differed from traditional towers, resembling a modern signal tower. A sphere hovered above its summit, slowly rotating counterclockwise.

Ji Feihua said, "Is that the Reincarnation Tower?"

Hong Beimo nodded; the iron boat passed the Reincarnation Tower and merged with another channel, where another iron boat came speeding toward them. Hong Beimo reduced speed, otherwise they would surely collide with that iron boat.

Hu Xiaotian looked ahead and saw the person at the boat's prow with white hair flowing, a crane-haired youthful visage—it was Madame Xu. Beside her stood Xu Lingkong, and Hu Xiaotian's heart jolted, though he did not know why the two had come together; the one steering the iron boat was the mute. What surprised Hu Xiaotian even more was that Madame Xu clearly saw him, yet seemed not to recognize him at all.

Xu Lingkong stared at Madame Xu from beginning to end, paying no attention to anything else; they all wore vacant expressions, unlike their usual selves. It must be that their minds were controlled, every move dictated by another.

Ji Feihua whispered, "Could those on that boat be your maternal grandparents?"

A bitter smile touched Hu Xiaotian's lips; although he had proven he had no direct blood relation to them, the appropriate form of address would still be that. Recalling that Madame Xu was merely a clone, he said, "They must have long been under the phantom's control." His gaze involuntarily turned toward Hong Beimo ahead, and he mused silently, could Hong Beimo also be controlled by the phantom? He called out, "Mr. Hong, have you repaired the flying ship yet?"

Hong Beimo did not answer his question; in fact, Hu Xiaotian had no need to ask further. The river widened ahead, and about a hundred zhang forward, a massive elliptical metal object hovered silently above the river surface. Upon closer look, the underside of the elliptical metal did not touch the water, leaving a gap of about three zhang—meaning the whole ellipse levitated in midair. When the iron boat had traveled roughly ten zhang, it stopped. Hong Beimo stepped off the boat and set foot on the floating, elliptical, bright silver-colored blades atop the river; Hu Xiaotian and the others likewise climbed onto the silver blades beside the iron boat. Then the blades drifted gently, carrying their bodies beneath the elliptical hull.

A beam of light shot down from beneath the hull; Hu Xiaotian looked up and saw a circular opening about two zhang in diameter appear on the boat's bottom. An invisible suction lifted their bodies slowly upward, and they entered the flying ship's interior one after another.

The surrounding strong light gradually dimmed, finally giving way to total darkness. They heard the rustle of wind-blown leaves, the rhythmic patter of rain on banana leaves, the moon rabbit rising in the east, stars twinkling, and the celestial bodies overhead racing across the sky at a speed visible to the naked eye—moon setting, sun rising. In an instant another red sun rose slowly from the horizon, and just as they braced for the blazing noon, they saw dark clouds rolling overhead, thunder and lightning flashing, a violent storm imminent.

Before they could even sigh, they found themselves inside a small pavilion, ancient and fragrant, tranquil and elegant. Curtains hung low; behind a half‑transparent gauze screen, a graceful figure sat quietly at a zither stand, her delicate fingers plucking the strings—like a spring breeze sweeping over each person's heart, sending ripples across their inner lakes, leaving them refreshed and delighted.

Kongjian the Buddhist monk pressed his palms together: "Amitabha! All is illusion!" The chant rang out like a lion's roar, shaking the deaf and awakening the dull, and the surrounding images rippled in response.

In an instant a gale rose, curtains flew up, the gauze split, and the figure behind it revealed itself—a stark white skeleton, its hands stroking a sword forged of bone, its hollow eye sockets staring emptily at the crowd, yet within those sockets light flickered like stars.

The wind stilled, the curtains fell again, the gauze fluttering open and shut—just then the terrifying skeleton vanished, and in everyone's view appeared a breathtakingly beautiful maiden, her eyebrows like painted arcs, eyes like spring water, skin fairer than snow, cherry lips like fire; every frown and smile was peerless. Her ten fingers, as lovely as spring scallions, left the strings, yet a lingering echo remained; her beautiful gaze fixed on Hu Xiaotian as she softly asked, "Why have you come again?"

Hu Xiaotian gazed at Huo Xiaoru before him; his heart felt as if pricked by a needle—deep pain, yet piercingly clear—yet his whole being was uncharacteristically calm. He whispered, "If I hadn't come, how could I have seen your true self?"

Huo Xiaoru giggled, rose slowly, and her beautiful eyes swept the surroundings as she asked, "Do you still remember this place?"

Hu Xiaotian's gaze remained fixed, unwavering, as he said, "Of course I remember—this is the Mist‑Water Pavilion!" He silently reminded himself that everything before him was merely a phantom‑crafted illusion.

Huo Xiaoru said, "'A brief stay is best; the little pavilion in spring's warmth invites lingering stay—how to fare? As you love and pity, so you shall act!'" Until today, I have never forgotten that couplet from the beginning.

Hu Xiaotian felt another hidden pang—this was exactly the couplet he had devised when he first met Huo Xiaoru, teasing her by cleverly weaving her name into it. Even though she remembered the couplet and the scene that unfolded in the Mist‑Water Pavilion, she was certainly not Huo Xiaoru. He murmured, "It's a pity this couplet was not composed for you."

Huo Xiaoru laughed, her gaze falling on Qiqi's face, and she sighed softly, "Qiqi, do you recognize me?"

Qiqi's stare was blank; she murmured, "Mother…"

Huo Xiaoru said, "I am not your mother, nor are you my daughter; your life was given by me, so you ought to return it to me, right?"

Qiqi blankly nodded, saying, "Yes, if Mother needs it, take it!"

Kongjian stepped in front of Qiqi's path: "Amitabha! The sea of suffering is boundless; turn back and you reach shore."

Huo Xiaoru laughed, "What "turn back to shore"? If I turned back, this world would become a sea of suffering; you, though called a divine monk, are in fact a complete fool." She looked at Hu Xiaotian and asked, "Did you come today to see me off, or to stop me?"

Hu Xiaotian replied, "To stop you!"

Huo Xiaoru's brows knitted, her eyes flared wide as she snapped, "You ought to know the consequences I've left behind! Why not just go back quietly and achieve a perfect win‑win?"

Hu Xiaotian said, "No matter what, I will give it a try."

Huo Xiaoru sneered, "You few think your martial arts are superb, but in my eyes they're worth not a penny—you're not even worth an ant!"

Ji Feihua said, "Perhaps you're right, but we are confident we can destroy this ship!"

Huo Xiaoru said, "You are Chu Yuanhai's daughter; I originally left you an opening, yet I never expected you to be obstinate and actually choose to oppose me!"

Ji Feihua stepped forward in a flash, her light sword lashing out like lightning, straight for Huo Xiaoru's neck.

Hu Xiaotian could bear to watch no longer; he knew that if Ji Feihua's sword landed, Huo Xiaoru would surely be decapitated.

Yet before the light sword neared Huo Xiaoru's body, a dazzling light ball shot out from within her, struck the light sword, and then refracted at astonishing speed. Hu Xiaotian saw the light ball heading toward his position; he raised his black‑iron sword and brought it down sharply.

The light ball swerved sharply in midair, dodging Hu Xiaotian's determined "Heaven‑Splitting" strike, then instantly vanished into Qiqi's body. In the blink of an eye a chain of events unfolded, leaving even the top masters unable to react.

At the instant the light ball left her body, Huo Xiaoru went limp and collapsed to the ground. Seeing the phantom depart from her form, Ji Feihua saw no need to kill her, abandoned the attack, and rushed at once toward Qiqi.

While the others were fighting, Kongjian did not join the melee; instead he drew from his bosom a Xuanti Lei. This was his and Ji Feihua's earlier plan—even Hu Xiaotian was unaware of it. They intended to destroy the flying ship, and he meant to hurl it far away. Hong Beimo and the mute lunged at him from left and right; Kongjian gripped the Xuanti Lei in his left hand and unleashed a rapid series of thunder‑like punches with his right, sending Hong Beimo and the mute flying sideways.

After repelling the two, as he tried to launch the mysterious light thunder, a blue‑colored hand shot out from nowhere, seizing his wrist with unerring precision. Kongjian started badly—he had never encountered anyone with such speed in the world. At that moment Qiqi's entire skin was covered by a blue‑netlike substance, looking as if she were clad in a fine scale armor.

Kongjian's left hand was restrained; without hesitation his right fist drove toward Qiqi's chest. At the same moment Ji Feihua swung her light sword forward again, unhesitatingly thrusting it into Qiqi's back, hoping to repeat the earlier tactic and force the phantom to leave Qiqi's body.

Hu Xiaotian watched Qiqi caught between the two masters' pincer attack, his feelings torn to the extreme, his anguish peaking; the scene left him helpless, and even if he wished to intervene it was already too late. Kongjian's heavy punch struck Qiqi's chest; Ji Feihua's light sword slashed her back, a blue light flared, revealing a long gash that instantly healed miraculously. Qiqi wrested the mysterious light thunder from Kongjian's grasp; the blue light in her eyes shot like a sword toward Kongjian's chest, boring two large holes through it. Though Kongjian's body was pierced twice, he showed no pain, no blood welled from the wounds, and he launched another punch at Qiqi, the wind of his strike howling, his inner strength undiminished.

Yet Qiqi seized the moment to break free from the two‑master pincer and lunged toward Hu Xiaotian.