Chapter 39: Deceased Spouses, Kindred Spirits

Chapter 39: Deceased Spouses, Kindred Spirits

She had no interest in a dream confrontation...

Fu Yu gave a light chuckle, averting her eyes and leaving only Jun Bu Du in her peripheral vision.

The Evil Spirits had a slightly larger build than humans. Jun Bu Du, already taller than average, now as an Evil Spirit, cast a shadow of immense pressure.

His shadow enveloped her, blocking the light.

Fu Yu's breath hitched. An indefinable shiver ran down her spine. A tingling numbness spread instantly from her heart to her fingertips, her body's reactions nearly spiraling out of control.

"Combat urge," Fu Yu calmly told herself. "He's an Evil Spirit now. I feel a primal combat urge towards him."

Perfectly normal—

She suppressed her frantic heartbeat, forcing herself to calm down.

She had no interest in going all out against him in a dream.

"Hey," she said casually, "you, a Sword Cultivator, wearing a shaman mask... that's just evil!"

Speaking of the mask, Fu Yu naturally tilted her head and looked up at him.

Jun Bu Du was handsome—that was undeniable.

But even without seeing his face, she could always pick him out in a crowd at a glance.

This guy stood head and shoulders above the rest wherever he was.

Fu Yu blinked.

Even wearing that cold, imposing mask, he was still him, his demeanor unchanged.

She continued in a lazy drawl, "Though it suits you too... but there can only be one who ascends as the Emperor Witch Fate Master, and that's me. Don't wear my mask for no reason; go play with your sword."

Of course, she wasn't saying all this because she hoped he'd take the initiative to remove the mask.

"Are you listening to me?!"

Acting purely out of habit, she reached out to grab his sleeve.

"Swish—"

He chose that moment to raise his hand, his black robe's wide sleeve brushing past her fingers.

Fu Yu was stunned. "...Dodging me?"

Then she saw a slender, bamboo-like hand emerge from beneath the Imperial Sorcerer Robe, its knuckles hard, its skin pale and cold.

This hand swept across his face, pushing the Imperial Sorcerer Mask up onto the top of his head.

Fu Yu curled her fingers imperceptibly and raised an eyebrow. "Ahem."

After battles, she used to do this often herself—lazily pushing the mask up, letting it catch in her hair—sometimes forgetting it was there and later searching everywhere for it.

This dream version of Jun Bu Du was really full of echoes of herself.

She let her gaze fall nonchalantly onto his face.

An Evil Spirit's bones and skin were harder than a human's. His face, once serene and transcendent, now appeared colder.

His eyelids were thin and cool-looking, lightly veiling a pair of blood-red pupils, revealing no emotion.

"A bit thinner," she remarked offhandedly, nitpicking. "If you were a little plumper, you might actually take my breath away."

Even as she said this, her eyes never left him—since his death, she truly hadn't found another so pleasing to the eye.

She couldn't just keep looking in the mirror, could she?

Jun Bu Du moved.

He stepped down from the dragon bone high platform.

Fu Yu trailed in his shadow, following him, watching where he went.

The surrounding Evil Spirits weren't afraid of him. Their gazes towards him were fervent and reverent. Wherever he passed, the Evil Spirits neatly cleared a path.

Walking further away, Fu Yu looked back and saw the Evil Spirits excitedly huddling their heads together, babbling and gossiping about him.

Things like, who knows when the Great Shaman will come next time.

Or, it's the first time they've seen the Great Shaman remove his mask.

Or, the Emperor looks like some kind of legendary food. (Humans: ???)

Then the Evil Spirit who dared to compare the Imperial Shaman to food was promptly ganged up on and beaten.

Fu Yu was speechless.

This dream even had details.

Watching that Evil Spirit get beaten until it fled with its head in its hands, Fu Yu was delighted.

"Hey, look at it—"

She turned back, smiling, only to freeze. "...Where'd he go? Where'd he disappear to!"

Just a moment of distraction, and Jun Bu Du was gone.

Fu Yu laughed in exasperation.

"Ong—ong—ong—"

From the far distance, a deep, muffled, rumbling horn sound suddenly came.

The leisurely, idle Evil Spirits nearby shuddered, their entire demeanor changing drastically.

Old Evil Spirits began running in large strides, vigorously waving their arms to drive the smaller Evil Spirits from the market, commanding them: "Go home! Go home! Quickly, go home!"

The little Evil Spirits scurried home, closed their doors, and peeked out through the cracks.

Suddenly, the entire city was shrouded in a heavy, tense gloom.

This atmosphere was all too familiar to Fu Yu.

When she was four years old, the Old Charlatan had carried her on her back, fleeing a dead city, becoming one of ten survivors.

After that, nearby towns fell one after another. Every time Evil Spirits ran rampant, the people in the cities were gripped with this same terror.

The Old Charlatan possessed an animal instinct, always able to keenly detect the scent of safety or danger in the air, choosing to flee the city or hide nearby at the first sign of trouble.

Fu Yu's favorite was hiding nearby, because the Old Charlatan would take her into courtyards whose original owners had already fled in panic. The mother and daughter made themselves right at home, acting as if they owned the place, treating themselves to a feast, and lying down in warm, thick quilts at night.

The Old Charlatan was never wrong. She would often stuff her face while pointing with greasy fingers, telling Little Fuyu to watch and learn—learn even half of what I know, and you'll live to be ninety-nine.

So Fu Yu could never figure out later—why did someone so sharp, cunning, and careful with her own skin die in such a... dumb way?

If only the Old Charlatan had made it.

Fu Yu would have made her open her eyes wide and see just how capable she was, so she wouldn’t confuse the big fish with the small fry.

“Tsk.”

Fu Yu shook her head and continued walking forward.

The streets had been cleared of civilians. The grown Evil Spirits grabbed weapons from open-air arsenals, found their squad leaders in small groups, and marched out of the city in hurried but orderly teams.

Fu Yu froze.

In the blink of an eye, the street's blacksmiths, grocers, pushy fish-sellers, and schoolteachers had taken on the look of battle-ready warriors.

Fu Yu stood rooted to the spot, her gaze flickering slightly.

Jun Bu Du had gone through life almost undefeated, save for one endeavor that proved exceptionally difficult.

That was actually Fu Yu's idea.

She'd brought it up casually in conversation, saying that ordinary people were neither helpless infants nor resigned lambs. Everyone struggled to survive—it was just that the disparity in strength was too great to resist the Evil Spirits.

If they could cultivate, the people would protect themselves, their loved ones, and their homes.

Jun Bu Du took it to heart.

He sat and thought on it for a full night and decided to spread the Dao to the world.

At first, Fu Yu didn’t understand why he treated such a simple matter with such solemnity and seriousness.

“Did you really need to think about it all night?”

Soon, she saw just how serious it was.

She and Jun Bu Du faced a true life-and-death crisis.

The immortal sects and noble families joined forces, meticulously arranging a deadly trap for the two of them.

Fu Yu couldn’t understand how these factions, who usually schemed against each other and fought like dogs, could set aside their grudges, unite, and pour all their efforts into targeting them.

They fought until the rivers ran red, both ending up gravely wounded.

After narrowly escaping death, he remained as calm and composed as ever.

In a tone as casual as discussing dinner, he told her that for millennia, the immortal sects and noble families had tightly controlled the world’s cultivation channels and resources. The more ignorant and weak the common people were, the more stable the foundations of the immortal families would be—what she was doing was essentially digging up their ancestral graves.

Fu Yu was furious at the time.

“You only thought about something this big for one night?!”

He didn’t argue, just lowered his eyes and smiled until she lost her temper.

Anyway, that chapter of the past was too painful to look back on. All she remembered now was blood and chaos.

They'd won, but just barely, and they never got to see the golden age where everyone could cultivate.

A shame time wouldn't wait.

The Heavenly Dao collapsed too quickly. Before cultivators could shine like stars across the world, Jun Bu Du went to mend the heavens.

And never returned.

Thinking of the past, Fu Yu suddenly laughed aloud.

Aren't these Evil Spirits just like ordinary people? They set aside their goods, pick up weapons, and can go to battle.

“In this dream, you actually made it happen!”

She laughed heartily, strolling casually through the main road of the Witch City, following the direction of the battle cries to the head of the Dragon Bone City.

Climbing to a high point and looking out, she saw Evil Spirits surging like a tide outside the city, densely swarming and writhing. The ground rumbled and trembled like a drum being beaten.

The Witch City side was already prepared. As soon as a long horn sounded, countless warriors leaped out from between the dragon bones, quickly forming battle lines and using their bodies to create a massive shield, blocking the enemy outside their home.

“Boom—!”

The vanguards of both sides collided heavily.

In an instant, great sprays of blood splashed into the air, drenching the second row from head to toe with steaming warmth!

Fu Yu looked closely and saw that the attacking Evil Spirits were exactly as she remembered—frantic, bloodthirsty, mindlessly killing, with no discipline in their advance or retreat.

Though they were all Evil Spirits, the two sides’ temperaments were clearly distinct.

Jun Bu Du was nowhere to be seen on the battlefield.

Fu Yu didn’t deliberately search for him—truly, she didn’t.

Unless it was necessary to behead a powerful enemy commander, he generally wouldn’t take action himself. He preferred to let his soldiers and officers hone their skills, as no one could protect anyone forever.

“Get up!”

The shield defending the Witch City swayed under the impact of the raging waves. As one Evil Spirit fell, another immediately took its place.

They held the line firmly, with not a single one retreating in fear.

“Get up! Get up! Get up!”

The battle cries were unified, shaking the heavens.

Fu Yu: “...”

Clearly her own “dark history,” yet in the dream, it had become a morale-boosting slogan.

Two trembling little Evil Spirits quietly approached behind her.

One with small tiger-like fangs puffed out its chest and told the other, “See, even without the Great Shaman, we’re still the kind of monsters that eat people.”

The other little round-faced one nodded vigorously, "Uh-huh!"

The little one with tiger fangs said, "They're all controlled by the Evil Demon God. We have to defeat them and save them."

The round-faced one sort of understood, "Oh..."

The little tiger-fanged one told it, "Remember what the Great Shaman said: that buzzing sound in your head, don't pay any attention to it, or you'll turn into an old savage like them!"

It pointed a finger with a sharp nail toward the bloody battlefield.

The round-faced one quickly nodded, "I remember, I remember it really well!"

Fu Yu couldn't help but reach out and pat the little Evil Spirit's head.

"Huh...?"

It slowly lifted its head, its confused gaze looking right through Fu Yu, not knowing where it was looking.

It said, "I think the Great Shaman patted my head."

The little tiger-fanged one made a face, "You're dreaming!"

The round-faced one scratched its head and chuckled, "Heh heh..."

Fu Yu laughed, "That's right, I am the Emperor Witch Fate Master, also the god who rules this dream—little one, you've got a future ahead of you!"

The battle outside the city ended quickly.

Although the attacking Evil Spirits were fierce and brutal, they were nothing more than a disorganized mob. The other side, however, had strict military discipline, effective leadership, proper tactics, and a tenacious will to defend.

The outcome was never in doubt.

Outside the city, the sounds of clean-up began.

Fu Yu listened as the little tiger-fanged one explained things to its companion, and she herself learned quite a few weird and wonderful bits of knowledge.

For example, dead bodies should all be buried in the ground, so the land can eat the corpses and become very fertile.

For example, the spines of beasts can be kept and made into chew toys.

And for example, no matter how hungry you are, don't you dare eat the corpses of your own kind, or you'll become an idiot.

Fu Yu was speechless...

She was certain that these were definitely not Jun Bu Du's original words; they must have gotten garbled as they were passed down.

The warriors gradually came back victorious, carrying weapons and leading prisoners.

Fu Yu lightly drifted down from the dragon bone and stepped forward.

"He caught this many? How's he supposed to teach them all?"

She followed the group of howling prisoners to a huge open-air dragon bone lecture platform.

The Evil Spirit warriors escorted the prisoners, securing them one by one to "seats," letting them struggle and flail in place.

Fu Yu watched, her eye twitching.

She stepped onto the high platform, and before long, she saw a figure in a scholar's robe slowly making his way over.

She narrowed her eyes and calmly looked over.

...It wasn't Jun Bu Du.

Fu Yu grumbled, "Where did he run off to now?!"

She saw the old Evil Spirit scholar slowly stand on the platform of the lecture stage, holding a ruler shaped like a spiked club, and begin teaching the prisoners.

"At the beginning of life, human nature is good..."

"Ow ow wah wah!"

It was simply unbearable to watch.

The little tiger-fanged one and the round-faced one were about to head home when they turned around and noticed someone sitting on a framework of bones not far behind them.

A black robe gently fluttered behind him, and an Imperial Sorcerer Mask sat askew on his head.

The little tiger-fanged one blinked, "Wow... the Great Shaman!"

The round-faced one murmured, "He looks so lonely."

The two little Evil Spirits exchanged a glance, then cautiously edged closer, sitting obediently on either side of him.

Although the Great Shaman was holding a huge, fierce and terrifying "savage" head, the two little ones weren't afraid of him.

The little tiger-fanged one gave the head a poke.

"Clang clang clang!"

It was harder than the toughest weapon in the city.

"Wow!" It bared its teeth, "The Great Shaman killed the strongest one, otherwise our uncles and aunties would've been in danger!"

The round-faced one smiled with its eyes, "Thank you, Great Shaman!"

His gaze fell on its head, tilting his pale chin slightly, as if deep in thought.

The round-faced one happily asked, "Great Shaman, Great Shaman, why did you come here today? Are you looking for someone?"

If the Great Shaman weren't here, it would've been dangerous!

He blinked slowly, his voice carrying a metallic hoarseness, calm and gentle in tone, "My late wife."

The two little Evil Spirits looked at each other, not knowing what a "late wife" was.

He raised a hand and pointed toward the distant dragon bone high platform.

"Her voice is there."

"Oh—" The little tiger-fanged one put on a grown-up expression of sudden understanding, "I get it! That 'late wife' ran too fast, and by the time the Great Shaman arrived, she had already gone home!"

The round-faced one comforted him, "Great Shaman, don't be sad. Next time, you run faster too, and you'll definitely catch up with her!"

He smiled faintly without speaking.

He had personally witnessed her passing into nirvana.

After mending the Heavenly Dao, a final wisp of his will remained briefly.

He was the wind, coming to her, gently swirling around and nudging her back inside to rest—she didn’t realize how frighteningly pale her face had become.

He was a branch, dangling her "missing" green dress, which she passed by time and again without ever noticing.

He was the joss paper, brushing against her palm before fluttering into the fire pit, silently signaling she’d erred in the ritual.

He was the Green Bodhi Tree at the village entrance, seeing her grow tired from walking, staying there, resting with the sunrise and sunset.

He was the rattan chair, in its embrace she died, free of all worldly cares.

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