From a loser to an immortal sage

Chapter 531 Echoes of Old Dreams

The moment my fingertips touched the talisman, my skin felt like it was being pricked by thousands of tiny needles.

The azure incantation suddenly became incredibly hot, drilling into my veins along my fingertips. I instinctively tried to pull my hand away, but Wen Chen's palm, which was supporting my waist, suddenly tightened—his heat penetrated through two layers of clothing, like a stabilizing force.

"Yao Yao!" Zi Ling's silver bell rang frantically, but the sound was suddenly pulled into threads, buzzing and vibrating on the eardrums.

Stardust from the surface of the rune stone pelted down on me, and everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, the mountain wind, carrying the sound of pine trees, filled my ears.

I stood in front of the bluestone steps.

The vermilion gate was half-closed, and the three large gold-lacquered characters "Wuxiang Palace" on the lintel were worn old by the years. A half-faded red silk was still wrapped around the door knocker, which was being blown up and falling down by the wind.

"Yao'er, you're finally back."

That call was like a pebble thrown into a lake of the heart.

I spun around abruptly, my lower back slamming into a rough doorpost.

An old man in a moon-white Taoist robe stood at the foot of the steps, his silver beard hanging down to his waist, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes filled with the image of a pool of spring water—those were clearly the features of my father in my memory, but my father should have been crushed in the rainy night by the sound of an ambulance siren in the car accident before I transmigrated.

"You..." My throat tightened, and my fingertips unconsciously gripped the hem of my clothes. "Who are you?"

The old man raised his hand, and a wisp of green mist floated out from his sleeve, condensing into a water mirror between us.

The mirror showed a little girl with her hair in two buns, tiptoeing to reach the fruit on the peach tree. The velvet flowers in her hair were blown off by the wind and fell at the feet of the boy in the black Taoist robe.

The boy bent down to pick it up, his ears turning red: "Junior Sister, you're climbing trees again?"

Your master should punish you by making you copy scriptures.

“This is…” I stared at the image in the mirror, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst my ribs—the little girl’s features were exactly like mine when I was twelve and working as a handyman in the Valley of a Thousand Flowers.

But I have never seen that boy in my memory.

"This is the thirteenth spring of your past life in the Wuxiang Palace." The old man's voice was like pine resin, carrying the warm, deep tone of aged wood. "I am your master from your past life, Qingxuanzi, and also the last guardian of this Wuxiang Palace."

I took a half step back, my back pressed against the door.

The sound of a tinkling spring came from inside, mingled with the faint strains of a zither. "A past life?" I repeated hoarsely, "But I clearly came from..."

"You came from another world." The old man interrupted me, a hint of sadness rising in his eyes. "You think the Chaos Spiritual Root is a gift from heaven and earth?"

That was the crack in the Bridge of Rebirth that I exchanged for half the fortune of the Wuxiang Palace. He raised his hand to his chest, and a jade tablet with the character "Xuan" was faintly visible under his Taoist robe. "Five hundred years ago, when the Void Realm invaded, I used my life as a catalyst to seal the entrance of the turbid energy, but I left a crack."

You were my most prized disciple, my last disciple, who should have inherited my mantle and guarded this seal, but you were only sixteen years old then…

The image in the mirror suddenly distorted.

The little girl transformed into a white-clad maiden, kneeling before the ruined palace gate, clutching a blood-stained black Taoist robe in her arms.

She looked up, tears streaming down her face, leaving two white streaks: "Master said he would teach me the art of flying!"

He said he'd take me to see the coral forests of the East China Sea once I learned how to do it!

“I broke my promise.” The old man’s voice trembled. The girl in the water mirror suddenly turned to look at me, the pain in her eyes like a sharp thorn. “So five hundred years later, I guided a wisp of your remnant soul across the Bridge of Rebirth, allowing you to be reborn with your memories.”

The Chaos Spiritual Root can contain all laws so that you can simultaneously control sealing techniques and the power of nothingness—this is the last thing I can do for you, for this world.

The mountain wind suddenly picked up, causing the red silk to slap against the door knocker with a "smack".

I stared at the girl's trembling shoulders in the water mirror, and felt as if my throat was stuffed with a wad of water-soaked cotton.

It turns out that the ruins I always dreamed of on full moon nights were not confused memories brought about by time travel, but wounds etched into my soul from a past life.

"About Zi Ling..." I thought of her bandaged hand, and the writhing grasshopper within the talisman, "...is the turbid air of the Void Realm related to the seal of the Formless Palace?"

“Back then, I sealed the Northern Abyss Rift, but five hundred years have passed, and the seal should have loosened long ago.” The old man raised his hand and pointed inside the mountain gate, where the sound of spring water suddenly became clear. “What you are in now is the memory illusion within the talisman stone.”

Unsealing requires a life-giving soul as a catalyst, but your life-giving soul is entangled with memories of two lifetimes, thus awakening the karmic consequences of your past life.

His fingertips brushed across the water mirror, shattering the image in it into tiny specks that landed on the back of my hand, burning like tears. "Yao'er," he suddenly smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes forming chrysanthemum petals, "do you know why Wen Chen always says you carry a familiar scent?"

I looked up abruptly.

The light outside the mountain gate suddenly dimmed, as if a cloud had obscured the sun.

The old man's figure began to become transparent, and a blurry shadow appeared on the stone steps behind him, like a painting soaked in water.

"Some answers you must find for yourself." His voice grew softer, his Daoist robe billowing into a cloud of white mist in the wind. "Remember, the price of a Chaos Spiritual Root is never lifespan..."

"Wait!" I lunged forward to grab his sleeve, but my fingertips passed through nothingness.

The mountain wind whipped pine needles against my face, and only then did I realize that I had unknowingly entered the mountain gate.

Ahead lies a valley filled with peach blossoms, with streams flowing over bluestone slabs, reflecting the pink and white shadows of the flowers.

Under the peach tree on the opposite bank of the stream sat a woman dressed in white.

She had her back to me, a white jade hairpin tucked into her hair, the ends of which dangled into the stream, creating ripples.

I took a step, and the stream suddenly washed over my feet.

As a chill crept up from my feet, I heard a familiar voice calling from behind me—it was Wen Chen's voice, hoarse with a hint of anxiety: "Yao Yao, wake up."

The figure of the woman in white swayed in the stream. Just as I was about to speak, the peach blossoms in front of me suddenly began to wither.

The petals swirled and fell onto the water's surface, obscuring the woman's reflection.

By the time I could see her clearly again, she had already turned her head away...

The reflection in the stream made my eyes dazzled.

I held my breath and watched as the woman in white slowly turned her head—the moment she came into view, my heart felt like it had been struck by a heavy hammer.

it's me.

It wasn't me after time travel, nor was it me doing odd jobs in the Valley of Ten Thousand Flowers. It was this face in its most authentic form: the corners of the eyes were slightly upturned, the eyebrows were like distant mountains shrouded in mist, and the luster of the white jade hairpin in the hair suddenly overlapped with the red tips of the ears of the boy in the black Taoist robe in my memory.

When she spoke, her voice wasn't mine; it was clear and crisp, like a spring stream shattering ice: "Senior brother, the sealing technique for this rift... shouldn't we change it to a third layer of the Soul-Locking Array?"

Before the words were finished, a pitch-black crack suddenly appeared in the sky.

The black tide surged and poured down, scorching the peach blossoms and freezing the streams in its wake. Even the jade pendant at her waist emitted a dazzling light—it was the "Xuan" jade pendant that Master Qingxuanzi had mentioned.

I staggered forward, but my ankles were bound by invisible chains. I could only watch as she rushed into the crevice, her clothes fluttering like a butterfly's wings.

"Watch out!" I shouted, but she couldn't hear me.

Several streaks of purple lightning shot out from the black tide and struck her in the back.

She staggered and knelt down, her fingertips carving deep marks on the stone surface, blood dripping from between her fingers into the incantation at the edge of the crack.

Only then did I realize that the incantations shimmering with blue light were exactly the same as the chaotic spiritual root patterns on my palm.

"So... this is the origin of spiritual roots." My throat felt bitter.

The "me" of her past life looked up at the sky, blood seeping from the corner of her lips, yet she smiled: "Master said that the disciples of the Wuxiang Palace are born to guard the boundary, and die to become walls." Suddenly, she raised her hand, her fingertips piercing her heart.

The azure light of the spirit core burst forth from the wound, like a small sun exploding inside her body—that was the light of the spirit crystals I had seen in the secret realm. It turns out that each spirit crystal is transformed from the life core of a guardian.

"No!" I lunged forward to grab her hand, but passed through her body and touched the cold stone at the edge of the crack.

The black tide suddenly surged, engulfing her body in the crevice.

I saw her spirit core fragments being shredded by the black tide, and a wisp of dark resentment wrapped in a drop of blood fell into the depths of the mountain stream—that was a shadow crystal, the evil object that I had seen at Zi Ling's wound, which corroded the spiritual veins.

"This is the source of the Shadow Crystal..." My knees buckled and I knelt in the stream, the water icy cold.

Memories of my past life flooded back like a tidal wave: the ruins I always dreamed of on full moon nights were the appearance of the Wuxiang Palace after it was eroded by the black tide; Wen Chen said that I had a "familiar aura" because he had seen me in my past life sealing the turbid energy with my life core in front of the rift; and the injury on Zi Ling's hand was not an accident at all, but the Shadow Crystal was looking for a host, looking for... me.

“Yaoyao!”

Wen Chen's voice was like a fine needle, piercing through the mist of illusion.

I looked up abruptly and saw his figure swaying at the edge of the illusion, his fingertips turning blue, clearly trying to forcefully break through the barrier with his spiritual power.

His brows were furrowed into a deep frown, and there was a panic in his eyes that I had never seen before. Even his hair ornament was crooked, and a few strands of dark hair hung down in front of his forehead: "Don't touch those resentful spirits!"

I'll pull you back—"

"it's useless."

The ethereal immortal's voice came from behind Wen Chen.

He stood beside the stone table, his fingertips forming hand seals, the star patterns on his dark Taoist robe flickering with the flow of spiritual energy: "Her soul is entangled with memories of two lifetimes. If the karmic consequences of her past lives aren't cleared up, the illusion will trap her in those memories." He looked up at me, his pupils reflecting the black tide of the cracks, "If she can't accept that she is both the sealer and the source of the Shadow Crystal... she will be consumed by resentment."

I stared at my palm.

The patterns on the Chaos Spiritual Root were now tinged with a dark red, as if echoing the wisp of resentment in the mountain stream.

In her past life, "I" took one last look at the rift, her lips clearly saying "I'm sorry"—she was probably apologizing to her senior brother, to her master, and to the Wuxiang Palace that she failed to protect.

But what about me?

I was reborn with memories of two lifetimes, yet I don't even understand who I am.

"Why me?" I cried out to the air, my voice trembling with sobs. "My past self is dead, why must these burdens be placed upon my present self?"

The stream suddenly rose up to my waist.

The shadow of the Kuroshio Current shifted on the water's surface, and I saw the face of my past life rise up, overlapping with my present self.

There was no resentment in her eyes, only a calm determination: "Because you are the only one who can simultaneously control sealing techniques and the power of nothingness."

Because you are luckier than me, you have a chance to start over.

Wen Chen's call grew closer.

I could hear the crackling sound of his palm energy bursting forth, and I could see the blood seeping from his fingertips—he was forcibly breaking the barrier of the illusion, completely disregarding his own injuries.

Zi Ling's voice also mingled in, with a nasal tone: "Senior sister, you promised to teach me how to make grasshoppers!"

You said that after this battle, we'd go to the back mountain to pick wild berries—"

wild berries.

Ziling would always sneak a couple of wild berries from the back of Wanhua Valley and stuff them into my arms.

The spiritual energy that Wen Chen transferred to me when I was poisoned carried the scent of pine; when Elder Qingfeng patted my shoulder and said, "Don't panic, little girl," the calluses on his palms hurt me; when Senior Brother Lin taught me how to control my sword, he always said, "Only when your mind is calm can your sword be calm."

These vivid, burning memories, belonging to this lifetime, suddenly exploded in my heart like sparks.

“I am not her from my past life.” I wiped my face, tears mingling with the stream water and dripping into the patterns on my spiritual root. “But I am Xiao Yao.”

Memories of two lifetimes are not a burden, but a weapon.

The shadow of the Kuroshio Current has receded.

The stream became clear again, and the "me" from my past life smiled at me before turning into particles of light and dissipating in the wind.

I stood up and looked in the direction of the crack. Suddenly I understood what Master Qingxuanzi meant when he said, "The price of the Chaotic Spiritual Root is not lifespan"—the price is to always remember that I bear the responsibility of two lifetimes, to protect this world for my past self and for all those who suffer because of the Void Realm.

“I’m ready.” I smiled at Wen Chen at the edge of the illusion, tears still clinging to my face, but my lips were upturned. “Wen Chen, pull me back.”

His pupils suddenly contracted, as if he had finally seen my eyes clearly.

The next moment, I felt a pair of burning hot hands gripping my wrists—not the illusory touch of a dream, but real, calloused hands belonging to Wen Chen.

Spiritual energy flowed into his body like a warm current, and the mist of the illusion began to dissipate.

I took one last look at the wisp of resentment rising from the mountain stream, and said to myself, "Wait for me, I will deal with you myself."

The burning pain of the rune returned to my fingertips.

I slowly withdrew my palm, and I could feel it burning hot in my palm, like an egg about to hatch.

Wen Chen's forehead pressed against mine, her breathing rapid: "You scared me to death..."

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, watching the stardust begin to swirl on the surface of the runestone.

They started as scattered dots, then connected into a line, and finally rotated around the center of the rune, like the Milky Way falling into a small space.

Golden ripples spread from the runestone, brushing across Wen Chen's hair, across the ethereal immortal's slightly raised eyebrows, and across Zi Ling's hand clutching my clothes—

In those ripples, there is the wind of the past life, the light of this life, and the unfinished promise between me and this world.