The No. 1 Hunfen King in the Entire Server [Interstellar] Chapter 87

In Yingluo Hall, day after day, Lin Jing folded paper cranes, yet he still hadn’t managed to fill the vast palace.

Whenever he got tired, he would nap. Then, he’d return to Chu Feihuan’s side to idly observe the world’s joys and sorrows.

Within Jiuyang Sword Sect, Gu Xiangsi was the universally adored disciple, while Shangguan Wan, the sect’s other supposed “peerless beauty,” was disliked and scorned.

The insults thrown at him? Lin Jing could recite them by heart—”Useless,” “Empty-headed beauty,” “Sickly weakling,” “Not even worthy of a strand of Senior Sister Gu’s hair.”

And honestly? They weren’t wrong.

In his current body, the only talent Lin Jing possessed was folding paper cranes—and he had quite the variety.

As Chu Feihuan grew older, his personality also underwent a transformation.

The once quiet and reserved boy matured into someone refined and elegant.

After all, Chu Feihuan had encountered plenty of villains, but he had also met his fair share of kind-hearted people.

The chatty little apprentice chef from the sect, the Sword Concealment Peak Master who was always calculating yet never truly malicious, and even Gu Xiangsi, who often approached him with a smiling face for a chat—

Even the sect’s frail and noble young master treated him with a degree of respect. During one life-and-death trial, the two had even forged a bond as kindred spirits.

As his talent became increasingly sharp and his cultivation advanced rapidly, Chu Feihuan soared to fame as a prodigious young genius, leaving those petty bullies unable to insult him to his face any longer.

The once quiet and reserved youth, now passing through the peach blossom forest with his sword in hand, had developed an effortless charm.

Lin Jing even had the rare opportunity to witness a scene—Chu Feihuan, after being reluctantly gifted a love token in the form of a hairpin by a female cultivator, merely smiled at the gesture, then turned around and casually tossed the hairpin into the dirt.

Lin Jing was practically heartbroken.

You stinky brat, do you realize you’ve grown into a complete scoundrel?

Still, looking on the bright side, at this rate, Chu Feihuan had a good chance of becoming a god.

The only time Lin Jing left Yingluo Hall was for the sect tournament.

Every few years, the four major sects would hold a grand event where their young disciples could spar against one another. This time, the tournament was hosted by the Jiuyang Sword Sect.

When the Lingxiao Sect’s sect master asked if he wanted to attend, Lin Jing played with the red string around his pinky, hesitated for a moment, then looked up and said, “Father, I’d like to go out with everyone and take a look, but… can I not go to Jiuyang Sword Sect?”

He had no interest in subjecting himself to the unpleasantness there.

Shangguan Wuya, who doted on his daughter endlessly, smiled indulgently. “Of course. Ah Qing, you can do whatever you want.”

When Lin Jing appeared among the Lingxiao Sect disciples, he could clearly see the amazement and admiration in their eyes.

As the sect master’s child, he received nothing but care and affection along the way—water when he was thirsty, food when he was hungry, storybooks when they feared he might be bored, and a slower travel pace to accommodate his supposedly fragile constitution.

They treated him like a delicate glass doll, a rare and precious flower.

The journey was quite enjoyable for Lin Jing. He admired the mountains and rivers, though he had long since lost count of how many times he had seen such landscapes before.

“We’ll be passing through Nightcry City ahead. It’s full of strange people. Luqi, make sure to protect Miss.”

“Yes, Senior Sister.”

Luqi was a disciple assigned to care for Lin Jing.

Lin Jing wasn’t used to being looked after, especially by a delicate young woman.

But it was hard to refuse her kindness, so he could only accept it with some resignation.

To reach Jiuyang Sword Sect from Lingxiao Sect, one had to pass through Nightcry City.

The name alone sounded eerie. A great river, Wangchuan, wound around the city.

This place was home to one of the most enigmatic forces in the cultivation world—the Astrological Tower. Even further south of Wangchuan River laid Youhe Underworld Palace, a notorious stronghold of demonic cultivators.

Luqi’s expression was serious as she solemnly warned, “Miss, please don’t wander off. Just stay in your room after dinner.”

Lin Jing knew this place like the back of his hand but, keeping up his weak persona, he gave a gentle smile. “Alright.”

Outside, the sound of gongs and drums filled the streets, mixed with the sharp notes of suonas and the crackling of firecrackers.

Lin Jing was curious. “What’s going on?”

A shopkeeper replied, “Miss, there’s a wedding today! The Wang family from the west side of the city is marrying off a bride.”

Lin Jing clicked his tongue internally.

Luqi, following strict orders to limit her lady’s interaction with outsiders, sternly repeated, “Miss, the city has been unstable lately. You should go upstairs and rest.”

Lin Jing was resigned. “Fine, fine.”

Shangguan Wan’s body was frail, and naturally, her appetite was small.

After slowly picking at his meal, Lin Jing went upstairs. The wedding procession was long, and from his vantage point at the pavilion window, he could see everything clearly.

From one end of the street to the other, there was a lively parade with drums and gongs, flower petals scattered in the air, and joyous celebrations. The crowd was a mix of mortals and cultivators, all whispering and chattering excitedly.

Then, in an instant, everything changed.

A strange green mist surged from the end of the long street, rolling over the ground with a howling wind.

“What is that?”

“Demonic cultivators?! Are they demonic cultivators? Ahhh—”

A blood-curdling scream rang out, followed by the splash of blood. Panic spread like wildfire.

People screamed, shoved, and trampled over one another in their desperate attempts to escape.

Even though Lin Jing was on the upper floor, he wasn’t spared. The pungent green mist stung his nose, and after coughing a few times, he felt dizzy.

As a SS-ranked mental power, there was no way he could actually be knocked out by something like this.

“What the h*ll is this?” he muttered, pinching his nose.

The mysterious system suddenly spoke up in his mind, issuing a command: “Pass out.”

Lin Jing: “Huh?”

The system was urgent: “Faint! Faint now! This is an important plot point.”

Lin Jing: “……”

Fine.

Following the system’s instructions, Lin Jing allowed himself to lose consciousness.

When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the inn at Nightcry City.

He was in the middle of a vast, desolate field, with the slow, heavy sound of water in the distance.

Looking up, he found himself at the banks of the Yellow Springs, at Night-Wangchuan. A murky full moon hung low in the sky, while clusters of burning-red ghost flowers stretched into the horizon like a blood-dyed ribbon. The reeds by the riverbank stood as tall as a man, lush and sharp as blades.

Lin Jing crouched by the water’s edge, dazed. “Wangchuan River? This is the border of Nightcry City? How did I get here? System, explain this right now.”

The system, unusually patient with him, finally spoke: “The wedding procession in the city was actually a front. The ‘Wang family’ from the west side was merely a cover—this was the young master of Youhe Underworld Palace taking a wife. The Yunyin Sect and Changsheng Sect had planned to raid the demonic stronghold today, which led to the chaos you witnessed.”

“The green mist was released by righteous sect disciples. Their plan was to knock out the crowd, rescue the bride, and swap in one of their own people to infiltrate the demonic palace. However, the demonic cultivators weren’t fools. The moment they noticed something was wrong, they began slaughtering everyone, throwing the city into utter turmoil.”

“You got caught in the chaos. During the battle, a demonic cultivator tried to use you as a hostage while escaping. He intended to kill you to silence any witnesses, but you had too many protective charms on you. In the end, your father’s divine sense obliterated him, sending his corpse plunging into the Wangchuan River.”

Lin Jing: “……Can I go back now?”

System: “No.”

Lin Jing: “Then what do you need me to do?”

System: “Nothing. Just sit tight and wait for someone to come rescue you.”

Lin Jing rolled his eyes and squatted by the riverbank.

His white, cloud-like dress trailed on the ground, and various bejeweled ornaments dangled from the apricot-yellow sash around his waist. Two red strings threaded through paper cranes rested on the grass beside him.

He reached out his hand and noticed a fresh cut from the sharp riverbank grass. Shangguan Wan’s body was far too delicate—even the slightest wound left an alarming mark.

The wilderness was silent, like an underworld realm, vast and empty with only him present.

Lin Jing conversed with the system. “Who am I waiting for to rescue me?”

The system: “Your fiancé.”

Lin Jing: “Oh wow, you’ve grown up—you can tease me now?”

The one-year-old system was so furious it refused to respond.

Lin Jing chuckled.

He dipped his fingers into the Wangchuan River. The water, highly toxic and exuding a black mist, failed to reach him. The red string on his pinky swayed in the water, emitting a soft, tranquil white glow.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his calf. Lin Jing frowned. “Something bit me.”

The system: “Cry?”

Lin Jing: “……” What? Did you even hear what I just said, you little brat?

The system: “Cry now, hurry! Just shed a few tears.”

Lin Jing: “Cry for what?”

The system was anxious. “Focus on the pain. Shangguan Wan cries easily.”

Lin Jing: “……”

Lowering his gaze, he followed the system’s advice and focused on Shangguan Wan’s body. Sure enough, the burning pain from his wounds was magnified.

This body was not only frail but also overly sensitive to pain. In no time, tears welled up in Lin Jing’s eyes.

Scorching tears clung to his lashes. Gazing at his reflection in the water, he truly looked like a sickly beauty—long black hair cascading down, utterly pitiful.

The endless Youhe River stretched before him, starlight cold and distant.

Just then, a youthful voice, casual and clear as the breeze and moonlight, rang in his ears.

“If you keep crying, they’re going to catch up.”

Lin Jing froze and turned toward the voice.

With a crisp “plop,” a long bamboo pole struck the water, shattering the night’s stillness and startling crimson butterflies from the grass. A young man stood on a bamboo raft, parting the tall reeds at the riverbank as he drifted toward Lin Jing.

The night sky hung low, and luminescent insects flitted between the grass—red butterflies, ghostly blue flames—swirling around the young man.

The wind lifted the hem of his black robes, embroidered with delicate silver cranes, exuding an air of elegance beyond compare.

Lin Jing, eyes still misty from crying, quietly observed him.

The young man, despite his refined and noble attire, carried himself with effortless ease. Pushing the bamboo raft forward, he lifted the pole from the water, its tip still dripping.

He stopped a meter away, separated from Lin Jing by a thicket of thorny brambles, and chuckled. “Madam, would you like to come aboard?”

For ten years, Lin Jing had watched Chu Feihuan grow up from a god’s-eye view. This was the first time he stood before him in person.

For a moment, he felt dazed.

The young man curled his lips into a smirk. “You went through all that trouble to escape—do you really want to be caught again?”

Lin Jing remained silent.

Before he could think further, Chu Feihuan extended one end of his bamboo pole toward him. The part that had just been submerged in the river was covered in moss and algae, emitting a damp, cold scent.

Lin Jing sighed and reached out to grab it.

The surface of the pole was so cold that he shivered.

He tried to pull himself up, but after squatting for too long, his legs were completely numb. The wounds on his legs, still untreated, stung with every movement.

His body’s overactive tear ducts responded immediately—before he could react, a fresh stream of tears spilled from his eyes.

Chu Feihuan watched him cry with interest, then chuckled thoughtfully. “Madam is rather delicate.”

Lin Jing hadn’t meant to cry… That idiot system…

Unbothered, he simply rubbed his stiff ankle.

Chu Feihuan withdrew the bamboo pole, stepped lightly over the brambles, and extended a hand toward Lin Jing. “Let me help you.”

Lin Jing pressed his lips together and placed his hand in Chu Feihuan’s. The moment he did, he was pulled up in a swift motion, nearly lifted off the ground.

His eyes widened, but instead of falling into the thorn bushes and getting bloodied, he found himself caught in someone’s arms.

The young man’s cool hands encircled his waist, his raven-black hair brushing against Lin Jing’s face, carrying a crisp, wintry scent.

The movement disturbed the surrounding vegetation, sending glowing insects scattering into the night sky—a hauntingly beautiful sight.

The ornaments on Lin Jing’s dress jingled softly, his long hair spilling over his shoulders. The paper cranes at his waist drifted down onto the water’s surface.

Cr*p!

Lin Jing’s startled gaze locked onto the young man’s.

Chu Feihuan paused, then lowered his eyes and murmured, “This is the first time I’ve carried a bride.”

Lin Jing: “……” You’ve changed, Chu Feihuan.

The young man carried him onto the bamboo raft.

Once seated, Lin Jing’s first instinct was to roll up his sleeves, exposing the numerous cuts on his pale arms to the cold air for relief.

Chu Feihuan mused, “Madam is quite unguarded around me.”

Lin Jing, who had nitpicked everything about him while in Beggar Old Three’s body, never imagined he’d be the one getting teased now. It was almost funny. He said, “I’m not a madam, nor am I a bride.”

The bamboo raft floated along the Youhe River, scattered with ghostly fireflies.

Chu Feihuan sat down leisurely, letting the raft drift at will. He smiled. “Do you know where you are?”

Lin Jing shook his head.

Chu Feihuan replied, “This is the Youhe Underworld Palace—the heart of the demonic clan. A powerless woman appearing here… If you’re not today’s bride, I can’t imagine who else you could be.”

Lin Jing: …Alright, fine, if you say so.

He rolled his eyes internally but accepted it outwardly. Instead, he asked, “You saved me—aren’t you afraid of the Underworld Palace seeking revenge?”

Chu Feihuan chuckled softly. “No need. You, my lady, are hardly worth alarming the entire palace.”

In other words, don’t flatter yourself.

Lin Jing sneered. “Oh.”

The bamboo raft drifted aimlessly.

Lin Jing asked, “What’s your name?”

Chu Feihuan glanced at him and slowly replied, “A fleeting encounter, no need to exchange names. I’ll just call you ‘Madam.’” He chuckled lightly. “After all, in the territory of the Underworld Palace, it’s best to show some respect to the fiancée of the Young Palace Master.”

Lin Jing: “……”

I don’t see any respect from you at all. And do you even realize who you’re talking to, you brat? You’re talking to your own fiancée!

The raft drifted toward the moon, and the shore grew farther away.

Lin Jing finally got a clear view of the opposite bank.

Wild grass and thorns ran rampant along the river, but to the east, they gave way to clusters of bright red Manjusaka flowers. Like a river of blood, they paved a path leading to a bridge built from white bones. Beyond the bridge, in a dense black mist, stood a palace, cold and imposing. A massive black serpent coiled above, its golden slit pupils exuding a bone-chilling aura.

Lin Jing murmured, “That’s the Underworld Palace?”

Chu Feihuan nodded. “Mm.”

Lin Jing muttered, “Looks just like the underworld itself.”

Chu Feihuan chuckled. “It’s quite beautiful inside.”

Lin Jing: “You’ve been there?”

Chu Feihuan: “Had the fortune to catch a glimpse.”

Lin Jing: “What’s it like?”

Chu Feihuan thought for a moment before speaking slowly. “There’s a lotus pond. When I went, the flowers were in bloom. Beneath the pool, thousands of venomous snakes slithered, yet the lotuses were an icy blue—pure blossoms blooming in a place of extreme evil. Quite interesting.”

Lin Jing: “……”

He had seen that place with his own eyes, and it had given him goosebumps. You think that’s interesting?

Chu Feihuan added, “A bit like Madam’s eyes.”

Lin Jing: “Hm?”

Chu Feihuan smiled but said no more.

By now, the bamboo raft had reached the opposite shore. Chu Feihuan pointed toward the Underworld Palace and said, “Right now, the two great righteous sects are in a fierce battle with the Demon Palace. No one should be pursuing you for now.”

Lin Jing looked up. The palace was even more terrifying up close. The giant serpent above laid in slumber, and the city gates looked like a gaping maw of the abyss. Piles of rotting flesh and scattered bones laid beneath it.

The faint glimmers of light in front of the gate were butterflies—emerged from the husks of corpse maggots.

The still sea had no waves. The only things stirred by the wind were their robes and hair.

Chu Feihuan said, “Once we go ashore, I will head to Jiuyang Sword Sect. Where will Madam go?”

Lin Jing took a deep breath. “Home.”

Chu Feihuan: “Shall I escort you?”

Lin Jing coldly replied, “No need.”

From start to finish, he didn’t even say a word of thanks.

Chu Feihuan didn’t seem to mind. He had gained fame in his youth and had seen plenty of romance and heartbreak, yet his heart had remained steady. He had only intervened this time because he happened to pass by Nightcry City and learned of the demon-slaying events.

The mortal girl on the raft clearly came from a prestigious human clan, likely abducted by demonic cultivators. A bad temper would be expected.

Lin Jing remained silent.

In front of Chu Feihuan, every identity he had taken on was an odd and unlikeable one.

Whether it was as Beggar Old Three or now as the mistaken identity of Shangguan Wan.

Lin Jing had already said everything that needed to be said back in the cave. Now, he didn’t want to add any more love or hate into Chu Feihuan’s life.

The raft reached the shore.

“Madam, farewell.” Chu Feihuan smiled at him, gripped his sword, and turned away. His black robes, embroidered with white crane feathers, billowed elegantly as he left without hesitation.

The raft landed at a small fishing village.

Lin Jing waited for Chu Feihuan to leave before sitting down on a rock by the river. He untied a paper crane from his skirt, dipped his pinky into the Forgotten River’s water, and wrote his location on the paper. Then, he folded it back up and sent it flying toward Luqi.

While waiting for Luqi’s rescue, Lin Jing spoke with the system.

“Why was Chu Feihuan passing through here?”

The system answered, “He was traveling, received news from his sect, and happened to pass by Nightcry City on his way back.”

Lin Jing asked, “Did he recognize me?”

The system: “Almost no one in the cultivation world has seen Shangguan Wan’s face. And besides, Chu Feihuan doesn’t even know about his engagement to her yet.”

Lin Jing: “Oh.”

Soon, Luqi arrived with a group of Lingxiao Sect disciples, their eyes red with worry. The moment they saw him, they all knelt in unison.

Lin Jing let them rise. After all this, he had no interest in going to Jiuyang Sword Sect anymore.

He spoke to the lead disciple, and the next day, someone was sent to escort him back to the Lingxiao Sect.

The cultivation world was in chaos, but Lin Jing’s world remained quiet.

Because of that brief encounter on the raft, Lin Jing found himself uninterested in Chu Feihuan’s affairs for the next few days.

Chu Feihuan was a heaven-chosen genius. Even villains who wanted to harm him had to do so secretly. What was there to watch?

Sometimes, Lin Jing chatted with the system.

“Gu Xiangsi should be a top-tier player too, right?”

The system stubbornly denied it. “She’s not a player.”

Lin Jing folded another paper crane and sneered. “Not a player?” His gaze was cold and piercing. “Who are you fooling? I’d bet she’s a player—and one from the villain faction.”

This was a conclusion he had become increasingly certain of over the past ten years.

The system: “……Don’t make wild guesses. She treats the protagonist so well.”

Lin Jing sat in the Yingluo Hall, watching his paper crane take flight. He smirked and hummed a tune lazily,

“The lotus falls, the lotus falls, Look at the father and mother, they are not kin…”

Lin Jing knew that Chu Feihuan’s life was destined to be full of ups and downs, but he hadn’t expected the first major incident to come so soon.

A storm shattered the blooming oleanders, petals scattering like crimson rain.

He drifted into the Disciplinary Hall of Jiuyang Sword Sect. It was packed with people.

In the center knelt Chu Feihuan, while beside him, Gu Xiangsi looked anxious, and his closest friend, Xue Wenqing—the nominal Young Master of the sect—stood by his side.

Technically, Xue Wenqing was the son of the sect leader’s deceased sister. His cultivation was weak, and with the sect leader being in seclusion for years, his status within the sect was awkward at best. People showed him respect on the surface, but no one really took him seriously.

The Deacon Elder was furious. “The corpse is right at his feet, with both physical and testimonial evidence. What more is there to argue?”

Gu Xiangsi anxiously dropped to her knees. “No, Elder, there must be something suspicious about this! Feihuan isn’t that kind of person!”

The Deacon Elder replied coldly, “I only believe in evidence.”

Lin Jing stood quietly in the center of the crowd, listening to their noisy arguments, quickly grasping the situation.

The sect’s grand competition had not yet concluded when suddenly, a gruesome murder took place.

The victim was Sang Tianyu, the chief disciple of Changhong Hall, one of the Four Great Sects. His body had exploded outside Chu Feihuan’s door, his dantian shattered—a terrifying way to die. As a Golden Core cultivator armed with sect treasures, Sang Tianyu was an elite among his peers. The only one capable of killing him was Chu Feihuan.

Chu Feihuan had no shortage of enemies in the Jiuyang Sword Sect. Now, all the long-held resentment erupted at once.

“It’s him! Senior Sister Gu, stay out of this. I knew he would be trouble the moment you brought him in!”

“Just look at him—he doesn’t have the face of a decent person.”

The elder of Changhong Hall, grief-stricken over his disciple’s death, roared with bloodshot eyes, “If Jiuyang Sword Sect doesn’t give me an explanation today, don’t blame me for turning against you! I demand blood for blood!”

Yet when faced with such a crisis, Chu Feihuan’s master, Xuan Yin Zunren, couldn’t even be bothered to show up.

Now, Chu Feihuan stood alone before countless powerful figures, gripping his sword in silent defiance.

Xue Wenqing coughed weakly and spoke, “Elder, I believe it would be wise to conduct a thorough investigation before reaching a conclusion.”

The Deacon Elder’s voice was sharp. “Isn’t the situation clear enough? Who else besides Chu Feihuan could have brutally murdered a Golden Core disciple? The major sects are all present in our Sword Sect today—if word spreads that we’re shielding a disciple who committed murder, how will we maintain our standing in the cultivation world?”

His words were resolute. “Chu Feihuan, for your lawless disregard and wanton slaughter, according to sect rules, you must be executed!”

“Elder!” Gu Xiangsi lifted her head abruptly, her eyes red with urgency.

“Hahaha! Well said!”

“Serves him right!”

Some in the crowd clapped and laughed, while others shouted anxiously.

“Elder, you mustn’t!”

“Please reconsider!”

Lin Jing watched Chu Feihuan without blinking. The commotion outside did not affect him, just as his actions did not influence the outside world.

Kneeling on one knee, Chu Feihuan plunged his Springwater Sword into the ground, his back straight like a pine tree.

Executed.

But how could the protagonist die?

As torrential rain poured down, a figure stepped forward, gripping a sword. Their voice was calm yet carried enough weight to silence the entire hall.

“Chu Feihuan should not die.”

A green robe, a jade token from the Immortal Alliance at their waist.

Fu Qingfeng.

“Fu Qingfeng?”

The crowd was stunned.

In the current world, there were only five Nascent Soul-stage cultivators. The sect leaders of the Four Great Sects, reclusive and mysterious, and the former leader of the Immortal Alliance, Feng Wuchen.

Fu Qingfeng was Feng Wuchen’s close friend and a member of the Immortal Alliance.

His appearance immediately silenced the room.

Conflicts among juniors usually wouldn’t alarm such a high-ranking figure, yet now, he was the highest-ranked person present.

The elder of Changhong Hall, completely losing his composure, roared in fury, “Fu Qingfeng, even if you’re from the Immortal Alliance, you can’t disregard life so carelessly!”

Fu Qingfeng simply stated, “He is not the murderer.”

The Changhong Hall elder’s voice was seething. “Then who is? Go ahead, point them out!”

Fu Qingfeng remained silent.

Just then, a light chuckle broke the tension.

“This child… how interesting.”

Through the storm and wind, a young man slowly emerged, seated in a wheelchair with black silk covering his eyes.

Black hair, black robes, skin pale as snow, lips red like blood.

The already silent hall of discipline became so still that no one dared to breathe.

This was… someone from the Astrologer Pavilion?

Only the elder of Changhong Hall, driven to madness, was still shouting. “Good! So you’re all planning to protect this wretch!”

The crowd was abuzz—an intense spectacle.

The young master of Astrologer Pavilion smiled and said, “Who said I was protecting him? I simply believe that until the truth is clear, it is unwise to rashly take a life. If Elder Poxia insists on justice, you may imprison him in the Abyssal Prison beneath Jiuyang Sword Sect’s Sword Pool. What do you all think?”

The Abyssal Prison beneath the Sword Pool.

Everyone was stunned.

The Abyssal Prison… that was no different from a death sentence.

Gu Xiangsi’s eyes were filled with anguish. “No! Elder, the Abyssal Prison is reserved for the most heinous and unforgivable criminals. Junior Brother Chu does not deserve this!”

“Silence!”

With both the Immortal Alliance and the Astrologer Pavilion involved, the elder of Changhong Hall could no longer act as he wished. He could only suppress his fury and reluctantly agree.

Outside, the torrential rain continued. Now, perhaps only Lin Jing had the mind to listen to its sound.

He observed the various reactions of the crowd.

Gu Xiangsi pleading desperately.

Xue Wenqing, even volunteering to accompany Chu Feihuan.

Such touching camaraderie among the young.

A hundred people, a hundred different expressions.

Meanwhile, Chu Feihuan’s Springwater Sword remained stabbed into the ground. The young man, who had learned long ago that explanations were useless, lowered his gaze, watching the sword tassel sway in the wind. Beneath it, a tiny, hidden paper crane.

In the end, Chu Feihuan was imprisoned in the Abyssal Prison.

To appease the Changhong Hall elder’s wrath, his cultivation was abolished, and his sword was confiscated.

The Abyssal Prison was a forbidden ground of the sect, completely isolated from the outside world. No sound, no spell, no message could pass through—not even for a Nascent Soul cultivator.

Lin Jing followed him down effortlessly.

The Abyssal Prison was merely a stone chamber, walls closing in on all sides.

No light could enter, no spiritual energy existed.

Black, icy water submerged countless white bones.

Alone in the darkness, Chu Feihuan traced the cold stone wall with his fingers.

The once carefree young man who had stood proudly upon a bamboo raft now found himself in utter ruin.

Yet his eyes held no resentment.

This place was silent enough to drive anyone insane.

Lin Jing lasted only two days before he couldn’t take it anymore. He ran off to play around, but after tiring himself out, he still returned to Chu Feihuan’s side.

He watched as Chu Feihuan, in the darkness, counted the stone blocks one by one. From south to north, from top to bottom, his fingers traced them again and again—there were a total of three hundred and four.

He sat there, motionless, as if he intended to sit until he withered and died.

Lin Jing broke down.

“Three hundred and two, three hundred and three, three hundred and four… Stop counting already, aren’t you bored out of your mind?”

In the Abyssal Prison, there was no light, not even a sound. As a virtual soul outside the five elements, Lin Jing naturally couldn’t talk to Chu Feihuan.

It was too lonely—so lonely that it felt like his mind would be driven insane. How could anyone stay in a stone chamber alone for so long? He suspected that with the passing of seasons, Chu Feihuan had memorized every pattern on the walls. Day after day, he traced them. Day after day, he remained silent.

Lin Jing returned to Yingluo Hall, finally unable to endure it any longer. He grabbed one of the paper cranes on the table and tore it open.

He wrote: “Can you count a different wall for once?”

But he immediately ripped it up and laughed at himself.

Abyssal Prison was built by an ascended powerhouse and could block all transmission of messages. But his paper cranes… they ignored all restrictions too.

Lin Jing sighed, suppressing the ache in his heart.

He took a cinnabar brush and wrote a line in the playful tone of a young girl:

“To Chu Feihuan, reading this letter is like seeing me in person.”

“Can you guess who I am?”

He carefully folded the paper crane, watching as it took flight, weaving through the incense smoke, crossing mountains and rivers, and finally reaching that isolated stone chamber.