Chapter 55

The Twenty-Seventh City of the Northern Nether is situated on the western side. The cultivators who pass through mostly hail from the open-minded and fierce Langfeng City, alongside others entering the Northern Nether from various regions. Compared to the other outer cities, the Twenty-Seventh City possesses considerable strength.

Before Zhao Duan was born, the Twenty-Seventh City simultaneously boasted two cultivators at the Tribulation stage. One was the previous city lord Qiao Gou, whom Zhao Duan slaughtered after falling into demonic corruption, as Qiao Yin had previously mentioned. The other was the woman in lavish attire who was turned into a puppet by Zhao Duan—Zhao Qiuran.

Qiao Gou and Zhao Qiuran belonged to the two great immortal clans of the Twenty-Seventh City, both having been formidable candidates for the next city lord in their youth. During the succession, relying on his mid-Tribulation cultivation and a superior comprehension of the sword dao, Qiao Gou effortlessly defeated Zhao Qiuran, who had only recently stepped into the Tribulation stage.

Accustomed to rivalry, the two clans were naturally like fire and water. Yet, following their duel, Zhao Qiuran grew deeply admiring of Qiao Gou's temperament and cultivation, unexpectedly developing romantic affections for him and wishing to become his dao companion. When the Qiao and Zhao clans learned of this, after some deliberation, they were rather happy to see it happen—if the match succeeded, the two clans would become one, equivalent to a sect harboring two Tribulation-stage experts, leaving no further need for contention.

Yet at the very beginning, Qiao Gou was simply unwilling. Not only was he unwilling, but the object of his affection turned out to be an ordinary mortal woman from a common merchant family in the Twenty-Seventh City.

In her nineteenth year, that mortal woman was walking along the main street when she happened to encounter Qiao Gou, who had taken on a mortal guise and was wandering the road in a daze. At the time, Qiao Gou had encountered a bottleneck in his enlightenment. He could not fathom why the myriad living beings of the mortal world—grass, trees, ephemeral mayflies, impoverished vagrants, or those holding positions of high power—all lived lives spanning no more than a hundred years. Time rushed past, falling short even of a cultivator's brief moment in secluded meditation. Such a life, what interest could it possibly hold? Was one simply born to wait for death?

Unable to untangle this knot, he fell into a mental miasma. Wandering in a daze through the center of the bustling street, he bumped into pedestrians from time to time, enduring who knows how many curses, yet remaining completely unresponsive and lost in thought.

Someone passed by carried in a sedan chair. The young woman lifted the sedan curtain and happened to hear a bearer scolding him: "How are you walking without watching the road? You just rushed right up against such a large sedan of ours! Don't try to extort our young miss if you end up crashing into us!"

Preoccupied, Qiao Gou replied offhandedly, "Unintentional collision, my apologies." With that, he prepared to detour around them.

The woman's willow-like brows twitched slightly. Frowning, she called out to him, "This young master!"

Qiao Gou turned back in a listless daze. "Did I infringe upon the lady's carriage?" He lowered his head, reaching into a spirit pouch—disguised in the mortal world as a fragrant sachet—to retrieve gold, silver, and valuables. "This humble person can offer compensation..." His movements were practiced, showing how many times he had bumped into others previously and how much money he had paid out.

Unable to hold back, the woman let out a soft laugh. A slender, delicate hand reached out from the sedan curtain, actually extending a bunch of flowers. "I merely saw that the young master looked utterly disheartened and weighed down by worries. I picked these flowers while strolling in the outskirts. If the young master does not disdain them, I present them to you."

"Flowers and plants possess spirit. By observing them, the young master might perhaps alleviate some of your sorrows."

Qiao Gou raised his eyes. The bouquet was held before him, consisting of nothing more than ubiquitous wild grasses and blossoms. The Northern Nether was on the verge of early winter, precisely the season when vegetation withered. Those wild flowers were already decaying, their petals drooping, turning yellow and black. Had they not been plucked, they would surely have withered at the first breath of wind.

Surprised, Qiao Gou said, "They are about to fade."

The woman smiled. "Flowers bloom, and naturally they wither. I merely plucked them so they might bloom for a few more days. It is enough if someone looks upon them."

Qiao Gou stood frozen in silence. After a long moment, seeing that he neither accepted the flowers nor replied, the woman assumed he was unwilling and prepared to retract her hand.

Suddenly, Qiao Gou reached out, took the bouquet, and smiled faintly. "Thank you, Lady. I understand."

"Huh? What does the young master understand?" Amidst the woman's perplexity, Qiao Gou's figure vanished completely.

The sedan bearer rubbed his eyes. "Where did he go?"

Qiao Gou had gone off to break through his bottleneck. The following year, with his mid-Tribulation cultivation, he defeated Zhao Qiuran, succeeded to the position of city lord, and—disregarding the wishes of both clans—went to the mortal woman's family to propose marriage.

The woman stepped out of her chambers to receive her guest in the main hall, only to realize that the visitor was none other than the young master who had abruptly vanished on the main street that day. Her parents asked him, "Honored sir, if you intend to seek her hand in marriage, what shall the betrothal gifts be?"

The young master extended his hand, palm upward. A bouquet of wild flowers, hovering precariously between blooming and withering, was enveloped in spiritual energy, preserved precisely as they had been when they first met. The surrounding mortals, witnessing an immortal master display his divine abilities, dropped to their knees in succession.

Yet he withdrew his spiritual energy. Exposed to the elements, the bouquet met the wind, and the petals drifted away. The flowers withered.

He said, "This is my betrothal gift."

Dazed, the woman asked, "Since they were preserved for a year, why let them wither now?"

"Having bloomed once is enough."

The woman smiled, nodded of her own accord, and consented to the match.

When this past event transpired, Zhao Duan had not yet been born, and everything he knew came from the accounts of his elders. Consequently, within the visions of memory, whether it was Qiao Gou, the woman, or everything in the Twenty-Seventh City, all appeared hazy and blurred, rendered merely as shadow-like outlines.

An Wuxue and Xie Zhefeng stood together amidst these clinging, indistinct forms, watching quietly. Fearing he might miss any clues concerning puppet arts or the turmoil in the Northern Nether, he attentively observed these past events linked to Zhao Duan.

Yet as he watched, he suddenly felt something was amiss. Turning his head slightly, he intercepted Xie Zhefeng's gaze, only to realize that Xie Zhefeng was not looking at the scene before them, but was staring directly at him.

Slightly displeased, he frowned and asked, "Why is the Immortal Venerable looking at me?" Had he not just claimed he would not "mistake" him?

Xie Zhefeng hastily looked away, his tone carrying a fleeting trace of flurry. "No, I..." His voice paused, before he regained his composure and spoke in a suppressed tone. "I was merely reflecting on how Qiao Gou and his wife met by chance as mere strangers in the mortal world, crossing paths just once. Yet her unintentional breaking of his mental barrier caused him to fall so deeply in love—it struck me as rather rare."

His Junior Brother instantly resumed his cold demeanor. "I merely wished to voice this puzzle to you just now, a sheer coincidence."

"Oh."

An Wuxue did not find it rare at all. He remarked, "Some people's romance stems from the passage of time, while others' begins in a single fleeting moment. Or perhaps the two combine, born of that single moment found within the passage of time."

As for his Junior Brother, at that moment in their youth when he severed his inner demon—was that not also a single fleeting moment found within the passage of time?

He offered a bitter laugh. "Yet, everything is relative. Disappointment can likewise stem from the passage of time, or begin in a single fleeting moment." The stirring of his heart began with the severing of his inner demon, while his heart died the moment a sword's glare pierced his core.

Once he finished speaking, Xie Zhefeng fell silent. Watching the shifting, flowing scenes before him without looking at Xie Zhefeng, An Wuxue had no idea what the man was thinking, nor did he wish to know.

In the tales heard by Zhao Duan, Qiao Gou employed mortal rites—the three letters and six etiquettes, a crimson carpet stretching for miles—to marry that mortal woman. As the most powerful cultivator in the Twenty-Seventh City and its lord, no one could interfere in whom he chose to love.

Yet no matter how deeply Qiao Gou loved her, it could not alter the fact that she was a mortal. The woman was naturally devoid of immortal bones and incapable of entering the dao; even with the aid of miraculous elixirs and immortal pills, she could live at most for a little over a hundred years.

Following the immortal calamity, Xie Zhefeng remained the sole eternal immortal in the world, with Tribulation-stage experts standing immediately beneath him. Cultivators at the Tribulation stage were treated as honored guests even on Falling Moon Peak.

How could Zhao Qiuran endure being outshone by a mortal woman? Filled with resentment, she was advised by the immortals of her clan: "The City Lord's wife has a limited lifespan. To you, a hundred years will pass in the blink of an eye. Just wait it out. A mortal's beauty fades in a few decades, at which point the City Lord will still be a dashing young man. Perhaps you won't even need to wait for her to pass away before he turns his gaze to you."

Zhao Qiuran also felt there was reason in their words. A few decades, after all, was merely a blink in secluded meditation. She temporarily let the matter rest. A year after Qiao Gou's wedding, Qiao Yin was born.

Several more years passed, and when the child reached the age of five, she displayed a hint of innate talent. Her mother was a mortal devoid of immortal bones, yet unexpectedly, the child possessed superior natural talent and bone structure. People within the City Lord's estate whispered that, aside from Zhao Qiuran, the younger generation of the Zhao clan produced no one of distinction; given this young girl's exceptional spiritual roots, she might directly become the young city lord in the future.

Hearing this, Zhao Qiuran grew even more unreconciled. Why? Why should she not only lose to a mortal woman, but have that woman bear a genius child?

Unable to hold her tongue, she spat out, "So what if she's a genius? In a few decades, she might well be calling someone else mother. This child is born with immortal bones; decades mean nothing to her—whether she will even remember this mortal mother in the future remains to be seen!"

Propagated intentionally or otherwise by others, these words inevitably reached Qiao Gou's ears.

City Lord Qiao declared with absolute firmness: "Should she live a century, I shall take no other dao companion."

Zhao Qiuran was driven to fury. What made her even more uncalmed was that, a mere few days later, the City Lord's wife was pregnant once more.

Zhao Qiuran could not comprehend it. Why? To cultivators, mortals were minuscule and fleeting. Exactly where was that mortal woman superior, that she could outshine an immortal cultivator at the Tribulation stage?

Mortals... Were mortals truly different in any way?

Masking her identity, she too entered the mortal quarters of wine and song, drank deeply until intoxicated, and partook in a fleeting, transient romance. She thought—there was nothing special about them. Qiao Gou must have been out of his mind.

Unexpectedly, less than a month after returning, she discovered she was pregnant as well—the child of her and that fleeting mortal encounter.

The entire Twenty-Seventh City of the Northern Nether knew that she, Zhao Qiuran, had been outshone by a mortal woman. What did it matter whether this child was born or not?

Initially, she intended to abort the fetus directly. However, upon learning that the wife of Qiao Gou and the child in her own womb were both boys, her thoughts shifted, and she changed her mind, deciding to keep the child.

Were Qiao Gou and that mortal woman not so happy? Was their child not blessed with supreme talent? Was Qiao Gou not certain his child would never call another woman mother?

She refused to let them have their way. She formed a plan.

The more An Wuxue watched, the tighter his brow furrowed. What Zhao Qiuran had done was no longer entirely for the sake of Qiao Gou. Perhaps in the beginning, she had merely felt a touch of resentment from suffering a setback in matters of affection. But afterward, that resentment went unsoothed, piling higher and higher until it transformed into an obsession and a mental miasma of the Tribulation stage.

The Tribulation stage carried trials of the body and trials of the heart; the road blocks along its path were far more numerous than in any other realm, making practitioners much more prone to going astray than those of lower stages. Much like Qiao Gou back then, who had fallen into a mental miasma and fortuitously received his wife's guidance to ascend to a higher realm.

Yet Zhao Qiuran failed to break free, sinking ever deeper until her actions were driven solely by blind obsession. By that point, she was perhaps no longer deeply enamored with Qiao Gou; she was simply consumed by unwillingness.

Xie Zhefeng also remarked, "She harbored obsession, refused to repent, and bred an inner demon without realizing it."

An Wuxue raised an eyebrow. "The Immortal Venerable judges others quite accurately; how is it that regarding oneself—"