Unseen Immortal of Three Hundred Years - Chap 61
Chapter 61
In many legends of the future, the origin of the celestial immortal Xiao Fuxuan has always been very mysterious. He seemed to appear out of nowhere in this world, without father or mother, without sect or lineage, without emotion or desire.
These rumors are actually true.
His spirit is attached to too many bodies.
Everyone is him, yet no one is him.
He watches the vicissitudes of life and the joys and sorrows of different bodies at the same time, being both a participant and a bystander. All the intense emotions of ordinary people always seem indifferent to him, like the boundless ocean without end. Even if a storm appears in one place, the entire surface remains calm.
Indeed, he is without emotion or desire.
Until one day, different bodies encountered the same person, and the fragmented emotions came together in that moment.
It was like a dormant spirit suddenly opening its eyes.
With each broken thread of the Jingguan’s chaotic lines, with each destruction of those bodies, shattered spirits would depart.
After the chaotic lines were severed, Xiao Fuxuan came into existence in the world.
When the last fragment detached from the body, he mingled among the countless souls of Jingguan, glanced back at the person, and asked, “Who are you?” But there were too many ghostly voices, and he was submerged within them, and the other party did not hear.
Until later, when he was summoned to become an immortal, and after three years in the Immortal Capital, he finally heard from others that there was a person in the Immortal Capital who, whenever receiving a celestial decree to go to the mortal world, would always wear a silver-threaded mask.
He had originally been about to leave with his sword, but upon hearing this, he stopped in his tracks, surprising the few celestial envoys who thought they had misspoken.
He remembered the other’s name, Spirit King, and received the celestial title “Zhao.”
People in the Immortal Capital often wondered what the Spirit King did each time he received a celestial decree to descend to the mortal realm. And he, who had not yet met the Spirit King, became the only one who knew, simply because he had seen him once before.
The Spirit King always returned to the past to sever threads, so it was quite miraculous that the former Xiao Fuxuan had encountered the later Wuxing Xue.
Later on, he would always hear that name, Spirit King, Spirit King, Spirit King. Mentioned by the Spiritual Platform, the Celestial Envoys, and the Rites Chamber, occasionally even mentioned by passing immortals.
As he passed by with his sword, his expression indifferent and his steps unceasing, yet he would always let those words enter his ears.
They said the Spirit King wasn’t always in the Immortal Capital, that he often descended to the mortal realm.
He suddenly realized that the masked person who had come to Jingguan was a profound entanglement for him. But to the other, he was merely a part of countless severed threads, no different from anyone else, not even leaving an impression.
In that moment of realization, a subtle emotion flickered in his heart.
He often experienced this subtle emotion later on, always because of the same person. Most of the time, it wouldn’t show, hidden quite well. Sometimes the person would see it, and then they would smile, a lively smirk tinged with mischief, as if teasing him, “Is Lord Tian Su unhappy?”
That mischievous smile rarely appeared in front of others, so his mood would improve. But to let the other revel in it a bit longer, he would let that hint of “unhappiness” linger a bit longer.
For a long time, he hoped that someone would suddenly realize they had overlooked some initial entanglements, realizing they had actually met much earlier.
In his imagination, that scene always happened under the spring breeze or by the southern window, on the eaves or by the window, with wine and falling flowers, in peace or contentment.
The person’s expression would mostly be astonishment, then bewilderment, with a hint of regret, followed by some sort of “apology.”
But he had never thought it would be in a scene like this.
He glanced at Wuxing Xue’s pale, tightly clenched fingers, looking into those eyes, recalling the image of the Spirit King standing silently with his sword at Jingguan, suddenly not wanting the other to know.
He brushed his thumb against the other’s tightly pressed lips, using his breath to transmit, “Who do you remember?”
He was relieved that he could sense what Wuxing Xue was thinking at this moment, while the other could only hear what he intentionally transmitted.
He heard Wuxing Xue say, “I remember many people I’ve killed, watching them die, I remember them all.”
So, they remembered.
He thought to himself, then heard himself say, “But none of them are me.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes, it is true.”
Tiansu never spoke falsehoods, yet he always made exceptions with the same person.
Wuxing Xue kept his eyes fixed on Xiao Fuxuan’s, slowly feeling the joints of his fingers becoming sore. It was only now that he realized how tightly he had been gripping.
Thank goodness.
Thank goodness Xiao Fuxuan wasn’t one of them.
Some color returned to the blood on Wuxing Xue’s fingers, and he let out a very light sigh of relief. Yet he still felt somewhat uneasy and asked, “Where were you then?”
He carefully recalled, then said, “I remember there were no other living people at Jingguan at the time.”
Xiao Fuxuan replied, “Not living people.”
Wuxing Xue paused, “Then what were they?”
Xiao Fuxuan said, “Whatever exists in Jingguan, I am that.”
Wuxing Xue instinctively thought of those deceased, indeed buried in the battlefield, but before he could dwell on it further, Xiao Fuxuan continued, “I don’t know why my spirit ended up there, but what you did at the time allowed some souls to find release.”
Wuxing Xue was momentarily stunned, “Release?”
“Yes.”
For a long time, whenever he thought of Jingguan, he would fall into a prolonged silence. It was an unchangeable response, despite the bustling and chatter of the city of Luohua Mountain. But finally, at this moment, there was a change.
He felt enveloped by Xiao Fuxuan’s aura, his entire heart wrapped in it, as he heard the other’s voice saying warmly, “You saved many people.”
He blinked lightly.
I saved many people.
“You granted many people release, and I was one of them,” Xiao Fuxuan said. “I also said something to you.”
Wuxing Xue replied in a daze, “What did you say?”
Xiao Fuxuan continued, “You probably don’t remember, but before I left, I asked you, ‘Who are you?'”
Wuxing Xue was momentarily stunned, then softly said, “I remember.”
He truly remembered, even though the voice was too faint, drowned out by the wails and cries of too many desperate souls. But he indeed remembered someone asking him, “Who are you?”
This once vague phrase, amid this moment, suddenly became the most vivid confirmation.
Upon hearing those words, Wuxing Xue felt a sense of calm settle over him.
The silent, quiet moments when he used to think of Jingguan, hundreds of years later, were no longer as unbearable, all because of a few words from one person.
“Xiao Fuxuan.”
He suddenly felt the urge to call out the other’s name, and indeed he shouted.
But before he could continue speaking, the entire Feng Family Tower suddenly shook violently, the movement so intense that it almost knocked people off their feet.
Ning Huaishan was caught off guard, staggering back a few steps, on the verge of crashing into his own lord.
“Shit!” He jumped in fright, unable to stop himself, resigned to his fate. Then he felt a gust of wind hit him head-on, like a wall, slamming right in front of his nose.
He plastered against the wind barrier with a “smack,” opening one eye to see that he was less than half a step away from the lord, yet unable to move forward.
And Tiansu glanced at him expressionlessly.
Ning Huaishan hesitated.
Tiansu’s hand was still near the lord’s face.
Ning Huaishan hesitated again.
The words “What’s happening to this tower?” got stuck in his throat, and after a while, he swallowed them back down. Then, bracing against the wind barrier, he silently stepped back two paces.
But the tower shook violently again, and Ning Huaishan smacked back against it with a “thud.”
“I…”
He swallowed his curses, but eventually couldn’t help shouting amidst the gusts, “Is this tower going to collapse completely? It’s shaking so violently!”
At first, Wuxing Xue also thought the tower was going to collapse, that the Feng Family’s secret ground was about to be revealed.
However, when the scene before his eyes momentarily became chaotic, he suddenly realized that it wasn’t about the tower or the secret ground at all.
“It pertains to the entirety of the past,” Xiao Fuxuan remarked, his brow creased in thought.
Upon hearing these words, Wuxing Xue also grasped that the unraveling of this tangled thread caused by the Feng Family’s patriarch was leading to the current disarray.
He questioned whether his demonic persona still possessed the capability, akin to the former Spirit King, to restore order. Yet, even if such power existed, it felt inappropriate, considering he hadn’t initiated any action yet.
Could this chaotic thread collapse autonomously?
Wuxing Xue pondered, finding it improbable. Otherwise, what purpose would the Spirit King have?
There appeared to be only one plausible explanation.
The thread itself wasn’t disintegrating; rather, the current disturbance stemmed from scenes across different time frames becoming entangled. This thread seemed to “desire” their expulsion, aiming to send them away before its severance.
However, threads don’t possess desires; only individuals do.
Someone evidently didn’t wish for the thread’s destruction, thus leaving behind various arrangements and traps. When activated, these would expel intruders and conceal themselves once more.
Wuxing Xue had previously pondered why his counterpart from centuries past, who had evidently arrived on this thread, manifested in Luohua Mountain City and the Feng Family without severing it outright.
Now, at this moment, understanding dawned upon him.
Perhaps his past self had encountered a similar situation.
As if confirming his thoughts,
Just as the interrogation ceased, the word “pardon” from Xiao Fuxuan’s sword still echoed, and the spirit of the Feng Family’s patriarch continued to tremble. The light in Feng Huiming’s eyes was slowly dimming, the myriad souls long confined underground were struggling to break free amidst their piercing cries, and the two black coffins were creaking.
Everything was ongoing, yet Wuxing Xue suddenly felt a blur before his eyes.
In that moment, an unbearable agony struck him violently, as if two forces had grabbed hold of him, each pulling in opposite directions, and then tore him apart.
At the onset of this intense pain, he strangely felt a sense of familiarity. Then he realized that it was the pain that occurred when shifting between the past and the present.
When he was still the Spirit King, he often experienced this sensation, but back then, he effortlessly traversed between the chaotic thread and the present world. Even if there was discomfort, it was momentary, not worth worrying about.
But this time was different, this time it was prolonged and repetitive, truly unbearable.
He chuckled self-deprecatingly, thinking it would be better to continue with the decline of his senses. It was like cutting flesh with a blunt knife—painful, yet it kept him somewhat lucid. But now, it seemed like he couldn’t tolerate pain as well.
After all, he was just a lowly demon.
Amidst the overwhelming onslaught of pain, he abruptly lost consciousness, and in the moment of descending into darkness, fell into the warmth of an embrace.
