General You already held his bow and arrow in hand. Leaping toward the peak of its ascent, the zhen beast seemed to pause for a brief instant, suspended in midair. At that very moment, its master drew the bowstring to a full curve and loosed an arrow!
The arrowhead shimmered with purple light, brimming with condensed origin power. This shot was like a meteor chasing the moon, and with the scarlet bird's massive size, how could it miss?
Yet in the nick of time, the bird surged violently upward, dragging the bronze mirrors with it, and the arrow aimed at its heart struck the base of its wing instead.
As though wracked by agonizing pain, the scarlet bird let out a mournful wail and plunged from the sky.
Meanwhile, the zhen beast descended from its apex. Looking down from above, General You shifted his gaze, locking directly onto He Lingchuan with a ruthless gleam.
Now this was major trouble. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, the youth spun around and bolted.
Even if he stayed and won, what would be the point? Why waste his breath matching wits and brawn against paper cutouts?
With the scarlet bird's fate as a warning, he ducked low and leapt straight into the canopy of a large tree to keep General You from greeting him with another arrow.
General You pointed toward He Lingchuan's escape route. "Capture the enemy general! Dead or alive!"
The guards behind him roared their assent, spurred their mounts, and gave chase.
Damn it, how on earth was he an "enemy general"? He Lingchuan was ninety percent certain this was the Spirit Medium stirring up mischief from the shadows.
As he fled, he heard General You call out, "Many thanks for your assistance, Senior Brother Qingxu!"
"Merely doing what I could!" the sorcerer in midair snorted. "These demon immortals are far too brazen. If we don't teach them a lesson, they will continue to invade!"
Senior Brother Qingxu? Demon immortal?
He Lingchuan made a mental note of both terms.
Were General You and Qingxu fellow sect brothers?
What was more, the tongue they spoke differed from the language of today. Had He Lingchuan not put in bitter effort to study it, reinforced by regular sparring and quizzes with Sun Fuling, he probably would not have understood a word.
Yes, what they spoke was the ancient immortal language!
To this day, hardly any living person could use it.
These evil spirits played their roles with eerie conviction. If a lie was performed a thousand times, would it eventually turn real?
The cavalrymen behind him were remarkably swift; several times, by a hair's breadth, he was nearly overtaken.
Had the streets and alleys here not formed an intricate maze, He Lingchuan truly might not have shaken them off. In the end, he simply vaulted into a burning mansion. Unable to follow him inside, the cavalry could only rein in their mounts and circle the perimeter; finding no trace of him, they finally rode back to report.
Only after they departed did He Lingchuan emerge from the fire.
Wearing the divine bone necklace, he had no fear of scorching flames, not even the scarlet bird's true fire.
Even so, having his face blackened with soot was unavoidable.
The building was completely gutted and collapsed in the blink of an eye. With no one daring to stand nearby, he hurried away from the scene as well.
After that breathless, desperate pursuit, He Lingchuan finally had the leisure to contemplate his predicament.
Earlier, he had clearly been on the verge of reaching the Gan manor to seize Third Master Gan. Why had a single wave of the Spirit Medium's hand caused him to materialize on this battlefield out of nowhere?
Evidently, even in this bizarre realm, the Spirit Medium could not kill him with a snap of her fingers—otherwise, why bother with all these roundabout antics?
The last image he had received through the eyeball spider was Third Master Gan sealing a covenant with the Spirit Medium, after which she crumbled into ash on the spot.
Truly, good words could not dissuade a ghost hell-bent on dying.
Third Master Gan knew full well the Spirit Medium had sinister origins, yet in the end, he had done it anyway.
Ultimately, he had succumbed to his own fear.
He Lingchuan reflected on the battle in the city just now. The scarlet bird possessed terrifying destructive might, effortlessly summoning a host of fire whirlwinds as if it could single-handedly take down an entire city. He wondered whether even the great demons of the northern demon kingdom possessed such methods.
As for the fact that all six sorcerers, including Layman Qingxu, could fly through the air, that was clearly beyond the reach of contemporary practitioners. In this present world starved of spiritual energy, where could one find a sorcerer capable of flight?
Furthermore, they referred to the scarlet bird as a "demon immortal." Could it be...?
A bold hypothesis took shape in He Lingchuan's mind. Right—the paper figurine he had slain back at Purple Bamboo Court claimed to be a centurion under General You.
In other words, did the evil spirits on both sides share the same origin?
Mm, he needed to leave as soon as possible.
Just then, he noticed another disturbance up ahead: several horsemen fleeing in the lead, with Xiaolin Army soldiers pursuing from behind.
Wait, familiar faces in this bizarre setting?
He Lingchuan recognized at a glance that the fleeing riders were Wu Jinsong and his men.
Only, where there had originally been seven or eight of them, now only three remained.
"Over here!" he hailed Wu Jinsong.
Hearing his shout, the three spurred their horses toward him, their pursuers hot on their heels.
Relying on the divine bone necklace to shield him from the flames, He Lingchuan bounded twice into a blaze-engulfed building, concentrated true power into both feet, and stomped down viciously on two round timber beams.
Wu Jinsong had just ridden past beneath He Lingchuan when a resounding crash rang out. Turning his head, he saw a massive, blazing timber drop from above, smashing squarely onto the lead pursuer's head!
The soldiers behind frantically hauled back their reins, not daring to advance another step.
The giant log detonated twice more in bursts of flame, spraying sparks in every direction.
Yet through the fire strode a solitary figure, unhurried as though taking a stroll through a courtyard garden, wholly indifferent to the raging inferno behind him.
Wu Jinsong and his companions were struck dumb.
Even with their senses dulled at this moment, they could not help marveling: *This kid looks astonishingly cool.*
Yet He Lingchuan's cool lasted less than three seconds, because the second massive beam burned through and came crashing down.
In a single stride, he vaulted onto the mount behind Wu Jinsong. "Go, ride!" What were these fools gawking at? They were squandering the time he had fought so hard to buy!
The four rode in frantic flight.
Twisting and turning for more than a li, the battle cries around them grew fainter, and seeing no pursuers behind them, Wu Jinsong and his men finally slowed their horses.
He Lingchuan asked him, "How did you get in here?" These men had barely escaped with their lives, yet here they were—turning their backs on a clear path to safety.
"We searched several circuits around the lake and found no clues. Feeling worn out and exhausted, we wanted to head into the county seat to rest." They had been trapped for days without food or water; it would have been strange if they weren't parched and drained. "Right after coming down the mountain, we ended up here, and we lost four brothers."
There had been seven of them in total; hopelessly outnumbered, four had fallen.
"You didn't enter Wuze County first?"
"No."
He Lingchuan roughly understood. What he had entered earlier probably was not the real Wuze County either, but an anomalous space akin to this battlefield.
The problem was, how were they to get out?
"Whether it's an illusion, a formation, or a labyrinthine space, there will always be flaws, and a sliver of a gate of life will always remain." This was not out of benevolence on the caster's part, but a fundamental law; without leaving a gate of life, the space itself could not even be constructed. He asked the riders, "Fleeing all this way, did you notice anything discordant that differed drastically from the outside world?"
Wu Jinsong gave a bitter smile. "Everything here differs drastically from the outside world; everything here is discordant."
Could the outside world ever resemble this raging inferno of war?
"Yet I entered Wuze County first, and was only banished here when I attempted to stop Third Master Gan from sealing the covenant with the Spirit Medium," He Lingchuan pondered aloud. "Why didn't it cast me into this place from the very beginning?"
Wu Jinsong asked, "Was it easier to kill you in Wuze County?"
"Which means this battlefield was not its first choice. Could it be... because it's difficult to control?" He Lingchuan gazed toward the city engulfed in flames. "The evil spirits here are deeply immersed in their roles, each playing their own part. Perhaps they don't really obey its commands?"
Wu Jinsong grew even more bewildered. "What evil spirits?" His soul had been partially depleted, but his intellect had not deteriorated—why could he not understand a word?
Seeing their expressions, He Lingchuan confirmed his suspicion: only he could perceive the evil spirits and paper cutouts scurrying throughout the grounds; everyone else was completely deceived.
He was just about to speak when he suddenly let out an exclamation:
The eyeball spider had abruptly moved far away!
Earlier, preoccupied with surviving this battlefield, he had not switched viewpoints again, but he had continually maintained a faint sense of the eyeball spider's bearing and distance.
Needless to say, its bearing had been extraordinarily erratic—sometimes east, sometimes west. He Lingchuan had found it impossible to follow its trail, as though he stood within a circle while Third Master Gan walked along an outer ring.
Yet at this very moment, he sensed the distance between himself and the eyeball spider widen drastically, to the point where the connection between them became tenuous and faint.
A bad signal? Where had it gone?
He Lingchuan instantly switched viewpoints.
The eyeball spider was still perched on Third Master Gan. Looking out from its vantage point, the scenery was no longer the Gan estate.
There was a bamboo grove, overgrown wild grass, a half-ruined little pavilion, and a pool of clear green water behind it—
From the looks of it, Third Master Gan had actually returned to the shores of Mochou Lake!
He even walked languidly back into the small pavilion, righted a chair, sat down at the table, and placed the mirror upon it.
A mirror?
By now, the eyeball spider had quietly crept onto Third Master Gan's shoulder. Looking downward from that angle, it had a crystal-clear view of the bronze mirror:
The mirror's surface was no longer a glossy golden yellow; instead, it showed flames and black smoke swirling together, a scene of demonic beasts battling an army.
Rather than a mirror, it resembled a viewing screen.
The scene was so familiar—wasn't it the very battlefield where he stood right now? Only, Third Master Gan was watching from an overarching, bird's-eye perspective. A sudden realization struck He Lingchuan:
*So I am inside the mirror?*
He suddenly recalled two details:
Earlier, when he charged into the courtyard of the Gan estate, the massive white marble spirit screen had depicted a scene of flowers beneath the moon, but beside it was a patch of blank space.
That made no sense.
Beyond obscuring the scene behind it and creating the ambiance of a winding, secluded path, a spirit screen usually bore an inscribed poem or dedication to elevate the mood. During the He family's two relocations, Madam Ying had placed immense importance on spirit screens.
That spirit screen had a painting, but where were the accompanying words?
Painting without inscribing words was like a beauty stepping out without powder or rouge—who would recognize you?
Earlier, when leaping over the spirit screen, he had lacked the time to inspect it closely. But while clinging to the moon gate, he had glanced downward in passing and caught sight of a line of crooked little characters:
"Mo the Second was here."
It was right at the base of the wall near the foot of the gate, concealed by greenery, seemingly scrawled in charcoal, left who knew how long ago. Had He Lingchuan not looked down from above, he would have missed it entirely.
Most importantly, that line of writing was reversed.
Just as if one wrote a few words on one's hand and looked into a mirror—the characters reflected in the glass would be inverted.
Carrying that thought further, ever since returning to Wuze County, he truly did not seem to have seen a single inscribed tablet, shop sign, or couplet; even the sign for Purple Bamboo Court had been completely hidden by swaying bamboo stalks.
Thinking back now, it was because the mirror's master did not want him to discover the secret within.
Yet even the most meticulous scheme had an oversight; the master had failed to notice the small scrawl on the moon gate, and so naturally had not erased it.
But that was back in Wuze County.
"Head over there!" He Lingchuan scanned the surroundings, then signaled Wu Jinsong to gallop toward a five-story pagoda.
Chapter 356