In the end, Ming Zhu could not win against Na Lian. Under the weight of Na Lian’s repeated guarantees—which nearly escalated into swearing a blood oath—Ming Zhu pinched his nose and reluctantly stepped onto the Flying Kite.
Na Lian was brimming with self-confidence. He sauntered over to the control formation at the front of the vessel, examined it with a practiced air, and then extended his spiritual energy into the array.
The Flying Kite rose slowly.
Na Lian looked proud.
A moment later, they nearly slammed headfirst into a towering ancient tree.
Ming Zhu, clutching Xi Chu, trembled violently. He was practically roaring at him, "Do you even know how to fly this thing?!"
Na Lian sat as steady as an old dog within the control formation. Amidst the swaying and wobbling, he funneled another sliver of spiritual energy into it...
The Flying Kite moved half-dead, sluggishly drifting forward a tiny bit.
Ming Zhu bellowed, "Too slow! We’re going to fall!"
Na Lian clicked his tongue. "Tsk."
He suddenly surged a massive wave of spiritual energy into the array. The Flying Kite instantly shot into the sky, whistling as it shuttled through the clouds, leaving behind a long, wavering scream from Ming Zhu.
"Motherf—! Too! Fast! Ah—!"
Na Lian piloted the Flying Kite at breakneck speed, nearly setting the two wings on fire from the friction. Only then did they narrowly arrive at a land of yellow sand—Guifang.
Feeling quite good about himself, Na Lian hummed a tune as he landed the vessel. He gave himself a self-evaluation: "I think that went rather well."
He turned around and asked Ming Zhu, "Buhui, what do you think?"
Ming Zhu: "BLEARGH—! HORK! UGH—!"
Na Lian: "..."
Ming Zhu stumbled off the Flying Kite on shaky legs. He leaned against a tree and vomited until he was utterly spent. His face was deathly pale, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps.
This terrifying palpitations made Ming Zhu vaguely recall the feelings of his youth—back then, because he was afraid of heights, he would vomit himself half to death whenever he rode a Flying Kite. It wasn't much different from his current state.
Na Lian couldn't understand why this fragile human was so much trouble. He said, "Are you alright? You're too weak. How can you get this sick just from riding a Flying Kite?"
Ming Zhu’s voice was as thin as a thread. "It’s... it’s because you drove too fast... I told you to slow down, are you deaf?"
Na Lian made an excuse: "I was in a hurry."
Ming Zhu cursed, "Hurry... my... ass."
He turned around and retched again.
Na Lian rubbed his nose. Seeing him in such distress, he felt a rare pang of guilt.
Because Ming Zhu was truly suffering, the three of them rested on the spot for half an hour before finally setting off.
The city of Guifang had completely sunk into the yellow sands. As far as the eye could see, there was only a massive stone standing between heaven and earth. As Ming Zhu and the others approached, they saw a stone tablet turned grey by the wind and sand.
Three words were carved into the tablet: Sunken City.
Na Lian’s expression changed instantly. Without a word, he stepped forward and pressed his hand against the carved characters. With a violent surge of strength, he ground the three words away inch by inch.
Because he used too much force, his palm was scraped by the stone fragments, drawing blood. But he didn't care. Only after he had forcibly erased those three words did he speak in a hoarse voice.
"This place is not some 'Sunken City,'" Na Lian said. "It is called... Guifang..."
For thousands of years, the name Guifang had been associated with powerful demon cultivators. After they had forced Na Lian to jump off Biri Cliff, those Great Powers likely felt a twinge of guilt whenever they mentioned the name Guifang, so they took it upon themselves to change it.
Because Guifang had lost its leyline and was sinking further into the earth every day, they had given it the half-hearted name of "Sunken City."
"...It is my home."
Xi Chu, who had been sleeping in Ming Zhu’s arms, seemed to sense a familiar aura. He opened his eyes and sniffed the air gently. Suddenly, he leaped down from Ming Zhu’s arms and ran in a certain direction like the wind.
Ming Zhu hurriedly chased after him. "Xi Chu!"
For the first time, Xi Chu did not listen to Ming Zhu. His four short legs moved incredibly fast, and he soon vanished from sight.
In the vast expanse of yellow sand, a snowy-white fluffball should have been very conspicuous, yet Xi Chu had disappeared without a trace. Ming Zhu worried that he might have fallen underground and couldn't help but panic.
He followed the paw prints to the spot where Xi Chu had vanished and circled around, but he couldn't find any clues.
Na Lian caught up at this moment and asked, "Where did he run off to?"
Ming Zhu shook his head. Just as he was about to look further, his foot suddenly stepped onto a soft patch of ground. Then, his entire body lost its center of gravity. He sank downward as if swallowed by the quicksand, vanishing in an instant.
Seeing a grown man suddenly disappear before his eyes gave even Na Lian a fright.
He crouched down and reached out to press gently on the spot where Ming Zhu had vanished. The shifting sand seemed to possess a life of its own, coiling directly around his hand and dragging him in as well.
Na Lian only felt his vision blur as his body lost its balance. After a bout of dizzying spinning, he slowly opened his eyes.
The surroundings were pitch black; he couldn't see a thing. He frowned and flicked his finger. A small flame ignited on his sharp claws, illuminating the scene.
With one look, Na Lian realized in a daze that this appeared to be the location of Guifang’s leyline.
Thick pillars stood tall, supporting the ceiling. These stone pillars should have been radiant and translucent, but now they were riddled with holes the size of a bowl’s mouth, making the once-grand pillars look like honeycombed briquettes.
Not far away, something resembling a mountain range wound around, stretching into the darkness.
Na Lian’s tears nearly fell.
This was the leyline of Guifang that had lost its spiritual energy—the very foundation of their survival.
If the leyline hadn't been destroyed by those human Great Powers back then, Na Lian wouldn't have suffered such a tragic defeat.
Na Lian walked slowly toward the mountain-like leyline. In the past, at this time, he would have heard the resonance of ten thousand mountains in his ears. Now, there was only a dead silence, like a graveyard.
Na Lian reached out to gently stroke a stone pillar, murmuring softly, "I... am back."
After several hundred years, I have finally returned. Yet the scenes of the past feel like yesterday, while everything has changed and the people are gone.
He continued to walk forward slowly. As he neared the leyline, a spectral call suddenly echoed in his ears.
"My Lord..."
Na Lian froze in his tracks.
The voice drifted from far to near, sounding as if it came from the depths of the underworld. Then, a green light emitted from the leyline, floating eerily toward him.
"Lord Na Lian..."
Na Lian seemed to recognize the voice. Trembling, he reached out his hand toward the orb of light.
The green light floated to Na Lian’s side and transformed into a slender figure—the figure seemed to be formed of shattered light, drifting apart when the wind blew, only to reconsolidate quickly.
When Na Lian saw the person’s face clearly, his tears fell instantly.
The person had an exquisite face with a vermilion mark between her brows. She smiled at him gently.
"Lord Na Lian," she called again.
Na Lian’s eyes burned. He reached out to her, but his hand passed through her fragmented form, touching nothing.
"Cong... Cong Zhu..."
Na Lian murmured the name, his tears falling in torrents.
In the hundreds of years since Na Lian fell from Biri Cliff, he had only cried once—when he saw Xi Chu’s rebirth. This was the second time, because he was completely unable to control himself.
Cong Zhu looked at him warmly and said softly, "My Lord has finally returned. We have been waiting for your return."
One after another, green lights flew out from the leyline. One by one, they took human form behind Cong Zhu. After a moment, dozens of people appeared, bowing respectfully to Na Lian.
"My Lord."
Na Lian’s lips trembled. He looked at each of their faces, his tears falling even harder.
He recognized them. Every single one of these lingering spirits was a demon cultivator he had ordered to sacrifice themselves to the leyline back then.
The memories of that year were still vivid after centuries. Na Lian could even recall exactly how cruelly he had sent these people to their deaths.
*"Lord Na Lian, the gates of Guifang have been breached. Someone has damaged our leyline..."*
*"Have Cong Zhu take her people to block the leyline. If the leyline is lost, have them be buried with it. The rest of you, follow me to the city gates."*
Cong Zhu had led her people to block the leyline with their bodies, but they still couldn't stop its collapse. Their souls were permanently trapped within the withered vein, unable to move on to reincarnation.
However, if it hadn't been for Cong Zhu’s decisive action back then—using their bodies to sustain the leyline—it would have been impossible for Na Lian to lead so many people out of the Buhui Woods.
Back then, it took only a single sentence from Na Lian to turn dozens of bodies into withered bones and trap their souls. Yet after all these years, when these people finally saw Na Lian again, not a single face held resentment or hatred.
Cong Zhu looked at him tenderly. She slowly extended both hands, holding a cluster of brilliant light that flickered like a flame before Na Lian’s eyes.
The light was like a candle in the wind, looking as if a single breath could extinguish it.
Na Lian unconsciously held his breath.
Cong Zhu carefully cradled that sliver of shimmering light and said softly, "My Lord, we..."
Na Lian was stunned.
Cong Zhu’s eyes curved slightly. "...We have protected the final spark of the leyline’s spiritual energy."
Once a leyline in Guifang was damaged, it would usually dissipate entirely within seven days, leaving not even a trace of light. Moreover, several hundred years had passed; it should have been impossible.
Na Lian stared blankly at the dancing flame in Cong Zhu’s hands. His lips trembled, but he couldn't say a single word.
Na Lian had always thought he was indestructible. It was only at this moment that he realized all his previous talk about "we Great Demons are never sentimental or prone to tears" was utter nonsense.
When emotion reaches its peak, how can tears be controlled by mere skin and bone?
Na Lian slowly crouched down. Suddenly, he began to sob silently in front of all the spirits.
Including Cong Zhu, all the spirits pressed their fingers to the space between their brows and bowed slightly, their voices soft:
"We have not failed our mission."
***
