Ming Zhu was incredibly unlucky. When he was dragged down by the quicksand, he fell straight onto a rock and knocked himself unconscious. When he finally came to, Xi Chu was patting his face with a paw, chirping and squeaking urgently.
Ming Zhu rubbed his throbbing head, his eyes welling with tears. "It hurts..."
Xi Chu: "Ji-ji!"
Ming Zhu hugged his knees and hissed through his teeth for a long while before he managed to blink back the tears. Xi Chu leaped into his arms and pointed a paw forward, chirping twice more.
Ming Zhu brushed the dirt off his clothes, conjured a flicker of ghostly flame on his fingertip, and followed the direction Xi Chu indicated.
They hadn't walked far when a sudden burst of cyan light erupted in the distance, growing brighter by the second. In his arms, Xi Chu’s cries grew more excited.
Ming Zhu had no choice but to circulate his spiritual power and fly forward. In an instant, he reached the source of the light. When he saw what was happening, he froze in surprise.
Before him lay the sprawling, once-withered leylines of Gui Fang. Na Lian stood before them, the Spirit-Suppressing Lamp suspended in the air in front of him. The light from before was emanating from it.
Not far from Na Lian, dozens of spirits stood respectfully, their hollow eyes gazing silently at the glowing lamp.
Ming Zhu hesitated for a moment before calling out, "Na Lian?"
Na Lian turned his head. "It will be over soon."
Seeing the exhausted yet relieved expression on his face, Ming Zhu nodded and didn't interrupt further.
The Spirit-Suppressing Lamp was originally an artifact of Gui Fang. Once Na Lian’s demonic energy was funneled into it, the cultivation of the hundreds of masters it had consumed surged forth in a violent torrent. Following the spiritual threads of the lamp’s wick, the energy raced toward the withered leylines.
The cyan light from the lamp merged into a river, rushing into the earth. Within moments, the parched leylines were like withered wood meeting spring or ice beginning to thaw; countless vines and clusters of flowers bloomed from the ground.
Vibrant life returned.
The spirits standing nearby were visibly moved as they watched the restoration of life spreading through the surroundings. Had spirits been capable of shedding tears, they would likely have been weeping.
Once all the spiritual power within the Spirit-Suppressing Lamp had been poured out, the entire leyline system was fully restored to its state from centuries ago, before its destruction.
Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, the Spirit-Suppressing Lamp drifted forward and transformed into a streak of light, merging into the leyline itself. With the lamp standing guard, Gui Fang could rely on the leylines to rise again.
Na Lian closed his eyes and let out a soft breath. He turned to Ming Zhu with a faint smile. "It’s over."
It was the first time Ming Zhu had seen such a gentle smile on Na Lian’s face. He nodded blankly. Xi Chu suddenly jumped down from his arms, transformed into his human form upon landing, and threw himself at Na Lian.
Na Lian leaned down to catch him, whispering softly, "We’re home."
Xi Chu nodded fervently. "Mm-hmm!"
After the Spirit-Suppressing Lamp merged with the leylines, the city of Gui Fang, which had been buried in the yellow sands, began to see the light of day once more.
Within a month, the ancient city that had been entombed for centuries reappeared before the world. Demonic cultivators were naturally gifted with immense spiritual power; it took them only three days to clear the layers of sand and restore the city to its original glory.
Na Lian stood at the gates of the newly unearthed Gui Fang. Looking at a nearby withered locust tree, he waved his hand, and a massive boulder rose from the sand.
Na Lian pointed his fingers like a sword and made two swift strokes across the stone, writing two characters in one fluid motion.
—Gui Fang.
From that day forward, Gui Fang returned to the Five Continents.
Ming Zhu looked up at the elegant, sweeping calligraphy on the stone tablet and sighed softly. He reached out and infused a strand of spiritual energy into the dead locust tree. The branches, which had long since lost all vitality, suddenly sprouted new buds as if touched by spring.
Ming Zhu tilted his head slightly, plucked a leaf, and pressed it to his lips to try a few notes. Locust leaves were thin and soft; it was difficult to produce a melody with them. Yet, Ming Zhu possessed an inexplicable talent, coaxing a mournful, elegiac tune from the leaf. It felt strangely fitting against the backdrop of the swirling desert sands.
Na Lian listened with a heavy gaze until the song ended. "I’ve troubled you this past month," he said quietly.
For the last month, Ming Zhu had worked alongside the remaining demonic cultivators of Gui Fang to set up a formation beneath the earth. The spirits who had sacrificed themselves to protect the leylines could not endure sunlight; if exposed, they would dissipate within moments. Ming Zhu happened to be a demonic cultivator who carried death energy, so he had led the effort to draw a massive array beneath the city using death energy mixed with blood.
Once the formation was complete, it would take effect as the city rose to the surface, allowing the spirits to live under the open sky without their souls scattering. However, they would never be able to leave the city of Gui Fang again.
The spirits were very open-minded about it. Upon hearing the condition, they had said repeatedly, "We never intended to leave anyway. It doesn't matter."
Only then did Ming Zhu feel less of a psychological burden. He began drawing the array day after day, working without rest for an entire month, finally finishing just before the city emerged.
Due to the constant exhaustion and blood loss, the little bit of weight Ming Zhu had managed to gain vanished completely. He had become so thin it was heartbreaking to look at.
Ming Zhu himself didn't think it was a hardship. There were faint dark circles under his eyes as he said calmly, "It’s no trouble. You’ve looked after me all these years; I wanted to do something for you in return."
Na Lian was silent for a moment before asking, "Are you... leaving?"
Ming Zhu pursed his lips, knowing Na Lian had caught the implication in his words. "Yes."
Na Lian looked at him with a complex expression but did not try to make him stay. He took a deep breath. "Are you going to Jianglou?"
Ming Zhu tilted his head. "I should go to Rizhao first... to Mount Baijian. Then I’ll go to Jianglou with Zhou Fuxue."
Na Lian said, "Alright. Remember to come back to Gui Fang and visit us when you have time."
Ming Zhu smiled. "Of course."
"Do you want me to send you there?" Na Lian thought for a moment. "There are no Kite-Flight Platforms here. If you fly on the wind, who knows how long it will take you."
Ming Zhu shook his head. "No need. Come to think of it, since I was born, I haven't really looked at the scenery of the Five Continents. I might as well take this chance to enjoy the view."
Since he put it that way, Na Lian didn't say more. After a moment's thought, he stepped forward and pulled Ming Zhu into a gentle embrace, patting his back. "Take good care of yourself," he whispered.
" I know," Ming Zhu replied. "You too."
After a few more words, Ming Zhu turned and left Gui Fang.
The setting sun was like a golden disc, hanging low over the endless desert. Na Lian watched the thin figure walk slowly into the distance, his eyes growing warm.
"Take care."
Ming Zhu walked slowly through the sea of sand. He hadn't even been walking for half an hour before he started to regret it.
*What was I thinking?* he thought. *Why didn't I let Na Lian send me? Enjoy the scenery? Enjoy my foot. If I keep 'enjoying' this, I'm going to enjoy myself to death.*
Ming Zhu had been exhausted for so many days that his body had long since reached its limit. After walking a bit further, his legs went weak, and he slumped onto the sand, looking utterly drained.
"Heavens," Ming Zhu murmured. "I'll never talk big again. Someone save me."
His body swayed slightly, and with a soft thud, he collapsed onto the sand. Feeling drowsy, he slowly closed his eyes, intending to take a nap. In the moment before his vision went dark, he thought he saw a figure walking toward him against the light.
Then, he knew nothing more.
When Ming Zhu woke up again, he felt a slight jolting sensation. It seemed someone was carrying him on their back.
His throat was parched and painful. His eyelids felt as heavy as lead and wouldn't open no matter how hard he tried, so he could only let out a soft, whimpering groan.
The person carrying him seemed to hear the sound. They paused and gently set him down.
Ming Zhu murmured, "Water..."
Soon, something warm and soft pressed against his dry lips. While Ming Zhu was still wondering what it was, a nimble tongue pried open his lips and fed him a mouthful of water.
Ming Zhu was dying of thirst. Unable to think, he simply swallowed the water as if it were nectar from a spring.
After being fed a few more mouthfuls this way, Ming Zhu finally found the strength to open his eyes. He looked dizzily at the person in front of him. After a long while, he murmured, "Thirteen?"
Zhou Fuxue was dressed in black, his lips still slightly damp with water. He was looking at Ming Zhu coldly.
Ming Zhu’s voice was hoarse. "Didn't you go back to Rizhao? Why are you here?"
Suppressing his anger, Zhou Fuxue said coldly, "I was worried about you, so I didn't go back."
Ming Zhu dazed for a moment, looking bewildered. "You've been... following me all these days?"
Zhou Fuxue pursed his lips, refusing to speak to him.
Just as Ming Zhu was about to speak, a sharp pain shot through his throat, nearly bringing him to tears. He clutched his throat and said with difficulty, "It hurts..."
The anger in Zhou Fuxue’s heart vanished instantly. He quickly tilted Ming Zhu’s chin up and, without a word, pressed his lips against Ming Zhu’s in a kiss. At the same time, he transferred a strand of spiritual energy, which flowed down Ming Zhu’s throat, slowly healing the discomfort.
Ming Zhu’s eyes widened in surprise. *You can do it like this?* he thought. *How exciting.*
Sensing that Ming Zhu was no longer in pain, Zhou Fuxue pulled away. He lowered his head, looking a bit awkward, but he still tried to maintain a stern face as he scolded, "If I hadn't been following you, you could have died here and no one would have known. Ming Zhu, how can you be... so careless?"
To fall asleep from exhaustion in such a scorched, waterless, and desolate place—did he not fear never waking up?
Ming Zhu blinked, completely lacking any sense of self-reflection. "But didn't you come anyway?"
Zhou Fuxue was suddenly speechless. No matter how many more scoldings he had prepared, he couldn't voice them now.
Seeing that Zhou Fuxue’s expression had softened slightly, Ming Zhu gave a flattering smile and changed the subject. "By the way, how were you able to use spiritual power just now? Has your cultivation recovered?"
Zhou Fuxue nodded awkwardly. "Yes. I’ve been practicing that heart mantra lately. My cultivation recovered very quickly; I’m already at the late Nascent Soul stage."
Ming Zhu’s eyes curved. "That’s good then."
Seeing that Ming Zhu had regained some of his spirit, Zhou Fuxue carried him on his back for another half-day until they finally reached a small town.
Ming Zhu was likely exhausted to the extreme; he fell asleep several times during the journey. Zhou Fuxue didn't wake him, carrying him straight to an inn to settle in.
When Zhou Fuxue slowly placed Ming Zhu onto the soft bed, Ming Zhu drifted into a state of semi-consciousness. He looked at Zhou Fuxue blearily and murmured, "Thirteen..."
Zhou Fuxue paused, then tentatively pressed a kiss to Ming Zhu’s forehead. "Sleep," he said softly.
Perhaps comforted by the kiss, Ming Zhu closed his eyes again, curled into the blankets, and soon fell into a deep sleep.
***
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