Chapter Seventy: The Mural in the Secret Passage — Profound Implications

A deathly silence enveloped them, so profound that even the sound of their own breathing was lost. The once-clear babble of the water had become dull and heavy, no longer pleasant to their ears, instead adding to the disquiet simmering in their hearts. The small wooden boat drifted on as always, as if it had no destination at all. Perhaps it was merely an illusion brought on by their mood, or there was some other reason—no one could say.

As they floated forward, a sense of gloom deepened around them. Even the air grew thin, making their hearts sink and their bodies feel cold. The silence seemed infectious, passing from one person to the next, until none dared to speak. Perhaps even they did not understand why, in that moment, it was as though they had all fallen under a spell—paralyzed by helplessness and uncertainty, unable to break the hush.

They sat as motionless as statues, letting the boat carry them onward. The scenery along the rocky cliffs on both banks, once so vibrant and gentle, now brimmed with a darkness that chilled the soul. Suddenly, a long mural caught Yu Shang’s eye, ensnaring his gaze so that he could not look away. It felt as if his very spirit was being drawn into it.

The mural depicted a long-haired man. Though his true features were indistinct, his silhouette alone revealed him to be an imposing and gallant cultivator. Yet for reasons unknown, he stood there aimlessly, as if lost in thought. The feeling he gave Yu Shang was one of bewilderment and helplessness—like a child who, wandering too far in play, finds himself in unfamiliar surroundings once his excitement fades. He searches desperately for the way home but cannot find it, and in the end, stands frozen, not knowing what to do. If fortune favors him, someone will come to lead him back to warmth; if not, he is left to his fate.

But unlike the child, who stands on a carpet of green grass, the man in the mural stands amidst a field of corpses. Severed arms still bleeding, wide-eyed heads forever unseeing, hands stretched as if grasping for something lost—all these bloodstained remnants lay strewn across the ground, not a single body left intact. What hatred must there have been between this man and the restless dead, that even their deaths did not suffice, but their bodies had to be further tormented to vent his rage?

Still the boat drifted forward, and the mural continued. The protagonist remained the same, but now another figure appeared—one whose outline was identical to his own. Though their faces were obscured, the air between them was thick with murderous intent. It was a fury that seeped into their bones, a hatred coursing through their hearts, a bond twisted into enmity. Each wished for the other's death—perhaps it was intolerable for either to accept the existence of another so like himself. If one must vanish from the world, it could only be the other.

Two sharp blades pierced both their hearts, but neither would yield to pain or fall. Even at the very edge of death, these stubborn men seemed doomed to fight on, never resting until one emerged the victor. Yet Yu Shang could not understand—before death, did victory or defeat still matter? Why were these two men so intent on the contest? Did it mean more to them than life itself? What kind of struggle could drive men to lay down their lives for the sake of a result? Yu Shang knew that, for him, survival would always come first.

Next appeared a woman. Her silhouette alone was enough to make many a man swoon—not merely for her willow-like waist, but for the aura of spirit she exuded, outshining all those whose beauty was only skin-deep. Even the way she sat was graceful as a dance. She gazed mournfully at the two fresh graves before her, lips parted as if speaking to the dead. Then she lifted a cup from the ground and drained it. Whether it was wine or tears that slid from the corner of her mouth to spill upon the white blossoms, it lent the scene a profound sorrow.

Had the two men truly vanished? Who was this woman, and why did she drink and weep before their graves? These questions circled endlessly in Yu Shang’s mind, eluding all answer. The only thing that felt familiar was the aura emanating from these three—it was as though he had sensed it somewhere before, but now could not place it. Perhaps, like Xiao Yin’s carvings, this mural held a meaning that could only be understood at the right time.

Yu Shang was still lost in thought when a loud voice shattered the silence. Lan Wu cried out, “I can’t take it anymore! Can’t you all say something? This silence is driving me mad—if I don’t speak soon, I’ll really turn mute!” Clearly, Lan Wu was on the verge of hysteria. For someone so lively and talkative, such prolonged quiet was a torment worse than death itself.

“To be honest, I can’t stand it either,” Yan Xue Su said, pressing a hand to her chest with a troubled expression. “Even though you were all near, it felt as though you were a world away. It was as if I was utterly alone—the loneliness, the panic, it all rushed into my heart until I thought it would stop beating.” She despised the sensation of being suddenly abandoned, left all alone on this little boat, not knowing where it would drift.

“Silly girl, remember—you’re never alone, no matter where or when. I’ll always be by your side. Even if one day I’m no longer in this world, I’ll become a spirit that lingers near you, never leaving you,” Yu Xiaoran said, drawing Yan Xue Su into his arms to comfort her. Then he turned to the others and asked, “Did any of you feel the same just now? You try as hard as you can to gather your thoughts, but it’s as if they’ve drifted a thousand miles away, impossible to recall. It felt like some invisible force was pulling me farther and farther, and only after passing that strange mural did I come to my senses.” He frowned, looking around, as if trying to pierce the gloom.

“So Brother Yu, you felt it too,” Lan Bingxian replied slowly. “For a moment I truly felt like the walking dead—mindless, soulless, indifferent to whatever happened around me. My body was here, but my heart had flown far away.” He had felt utterly lifeless, and feared his thoughts might never return.

“It was strange for me as well,” Yin Boxuan said with a laugh. “It was as if I traveled to the heavens and wandered there, but now I can’t remember what it looked like. It was all just a fleeting, beautiful dream. For a moment, I almost didn’t want to come back. There was no noise, no turmoil, only peace. Even the air was tranquil, but not uncomfortably so. It felt like a pure land—a piece of paradise.”

“I didn’t feel quite the same,” Leng Huaiyi remarked blandly. “I just became more and more drowsy until I couldn’t resist and fell asleep. I only woke when you all started making noise.” Even now, he felt a bit dizzy, as if he hadn’t fully awoken. This was strange for him—he was never one to sleep so deeply, nor to be so unaware during slumber. Why was he so unusual today?

“I just sat there the whole time, my mind completely blank. Only now am I beginning to recover,” Meng Youyuan said softly. Clearly, she was still unsettled, and the others could guess that her thoughts were in turmoil, preoccupied with what had just happened.

“Could it be that we fell into some kind of illusionary trap?” Xun Mishuang exclaimed, as if struck by a sudden realization. “That’s why some of us were lost in thought, some asleep, some dazed. But what was the point? And why, after leaving that place, are we all fine again? Maybe there was something there that someone didn’t want us to see.” She glanced back, but saw nothing.

“Why so quiet, Xiao Yin? Have you not come to your senses yet?” Lan Wu teased, giving him a friendly slap. It was the first time she’d seen him so silent.

“Heh, yes, I’m still a bit muddle-headed. Looks like I’ll need a good sleep after we get out of this haunted place!” Xiao Yin replied half-heartedly. The others noticed nothing unusual, but Yu Shang, who knew him so well, saw through the little details at once.

“What are you thinking so deeply about, Brother Yu? Be careful, or you’ll end up falling into the river!” Yan Xue Su joked, seeing Yu Shang so lost in thought.

“I was just wondering why this secret passage is so long, as if it has no end,” Yu Shang replied, glossing over his true thoughts. Since someone had gone to such trouble to distract them all, just so he would see that mural, he wouldn’t be so tactless as to expose it.

“Though this road is long, perhaps that’s for the best,” Meng Youyuan said. “Not only can we enjoy the scenery, but we can take this chance to relax. Why not make the most of it?” It seemed she was not eager to reach the next stage, as if she were avoiding something and wished the journey would never end.

“Hey, did you see the mural too?” Xiao Yin whispered to Yu Shang while the others chatted.

“Heh, are you still dreaming? What mural? I didn’t see anything,” Yu Shang quickly denied. It wasn’t that he feared Xiao Yin discovering the truth—after all, Xiao Yin understood him too well—but he didn’t want to involve others, especially with someone among them who could hear more than he let on.

“Alright, enough pretending. Don’t worry, Leng Huaiyi’s abilities are suppressed here—he can only sense direct messages. No one else can eavesdrop,” Xiao Yin said dismissively. He had already tested the waters, so there was nothing to fear.

“You are clever. Yes, I saw it, but I couldn’t understand it. What connection is there between the mural and your sculpture?” Yu Shang asked, confused.

Just as Xiao Yin was about to reply, a piercing cry interrupted them. Yan Xue Su exclaimed excitedly, “Look, there’s a light ahead! Are we finally at the end?”