Good, Good, Wonderful!

"The Dafang Pot can absorb the resentful souls across the Panlong Wasteland, and Zhong Shengguang, who slit his throat after defeat, was among them," He Lingchuan recalled. "You might not know this, but when I first entered the secret realm, Panlong City was peaceful and affluent—far more prosperous than Blackwater City. Back then, Zhong Shengguang had just assumed his post in Panlong City. I suppose that was the finest time in his memory, which is why the illusory realm recreated Panlong City during peacetime down to every detail." Life in this world was too bitter, leaving one with no choice but to offset it with illusory beauty; the living and the dead were no different in this regard. "Later on, Nian Songyu climbed the city gate, set up ballistas, fired cannons, and set fire to the city. Worst of all, he blasted the Zhong residence to smithereens, tearing that illusory dream apart. That was what stirred the black flood dragon." He Lingchuan shrugged. "Nothing could be done about that. Everyone wakes up on the wrong side of the bed when disturbed like that." "The Dafang Pot stayed in Panlong City for over twenty years, so Zhong Shengguang must have long forged a close connection with it. It makes sense that his soul was drawn into the Dafang Pot after death, turning him into its artifact spirit." He Chunhua was applying ointment to his eldest son's cheek, where the edges of the wound curled outward; the specialized salve promoted healing. "If we cannot take the Dafang Pot with us, Red Cliff Road will likely still suffer the wild sand season in the future." He paused in thought, then asked after all, "By the way, I heard the heavenly god possessed you first. Why did it run off later?" "I don't know either." He Lingchuan looked bewildered. "When that white light enveloped my face, my mind went completely blank. By the time I regained my senses, it had already run off to find Nian Songyu." "How long did that take?" He Chunhua turned to ask the other witnesses. "Only about three to five breaths," Situ Han recalled. "Did you have a headache or dizziness?" "Yes, yes! Dad, how did you know?" He Lingchuan asked in surprise. "My temples have been throbbing non-stop. It still hurts like hell." He Chunhua pondered for a moment. "Once we're back, let's have the Great Shaman examine you again to see if your divine soul was harmed." "Oh." What did he mean by "again"? A twinge of vigilance rose in He Lingchuan. When had the Great Shaman ever examined him before? The conversation soon looped back to the Dafang Pot. "Is this divine artifact truly fused as one with Panlong City?" "Could it really be true?" He Lingchuan reasoned from the opposite angle. "Otherwise, if the Dafang Pot used Three Corpse Worms to make enemies defect and the Gale Army swept through everything in its path, why didn't Zhong Shengguang seize the chance to fight his way back to his homeland? It shows there must be restrictions on how the artifact can be used." "The things of a heavenly god are not so easily handled." He Chunhua nodded. "A pity, though. There's no way to use it to quell the rebellion now. By the way, the black dragon said in the end that its mission was fulfilled. What do you suppose that meant..." Seeing the four men staring at him with bright, expectant eyes, He Chunhua gave a faint smile and swallowed the rest of his words. What could he possibly get out of asking these four blunt, straightforward fellows? It would be far better to discuss it with He Yue once they returned. He Chunhua was deeply unwilling to accept returning without the treasure. This was also the first time He Lingchuan had seen his father so passionate about something—sighing repeatedly and wringing his hands in bitter regret. An impulse rose in his chest, urging him to fulfill it for his father no matter the cost. Of course, that was the original host's subjective emotion, not his own. Fortunately, He Chunhua understood that the expedition had to end. Merely opening the passage through the pool-well had exhausted all their resources; the likelihood of finding a second way to obtain the Dafang Pot was virtually nonexistent. Furthermore, the Gale Army's heroic spirits were patrolling the entire city. While it seemed like protection, in truth it was surveillance. If the living tried to carry out large-scale excavations in Panlong Wasteland City, those heroic spirits might not permit it. They had no choice but to head back obediently; they lacked the luxury to act willfully. By this time, the food in the pot was ready. Boiling the roasted rice cakes in water turned them into rice porridge. Its texture was somewhat grainy, not as smooth and pleasant to swallow as properly simmered congee, but its virtue lay in being filling, especially when paired with nang flatbread and cured meat. Everyone slurped their porridge down. Sitting in an isolated city amidst the wilderness, listening to the rain patter against the eaves while watching the heroic spirits of the Gale Army wander by, they all felt as if a lifetime had passed. He Lingchuan even brought out fine wine and shared it among them. Fed and watered, drowsiness crept up. After more than twenty hours of heart-pounding tension, exhaustion washed over them. Zeng Feixiong summoned personal guards to take watch, and the rest dropped down and fell fast asleep. He Yue had gone to bed very early, tossing and turning until the second watch before finally managing to drift off. The past few days had been the hardest period for the He family. During the day, he had to handle the heavy affairs of the commandery, and in the evening, he returned home to comfort his grieving mother. Neither was an easy task. When he finally managed to lie back in bed, sleep eluded him completely. His mind was consumed with thoughts of what he must do to uphold a future for his mother and himself. His father's death was a fatal blow to this household. After several days of this, the spirited young man had been worn down to a ragged edge. Yet at cockcrow this day, a commotion seemed to break out outside. Right after, He Yue heard frantic pounding on his door: "Second Young Master, get up quickly! The Master and the Eldest Young Master are back!" The old steward, usually so dignified, now had a voice shaking with wild excitement. He Yue scrambled out of bed, froze in place for a few breaths, then grabbed his robe from beside the bed and rushed out. The front courtyard was bustling with people, every face beaming as though they had stumbled upon an ingot of gold. The gloom and despair that had hovered over the He residence for the past few days vanished in an instant. Surrounded in the very center of the crowd, who else could it be but the father-and-son pair, He Chunhua and He Lingchuan? Though covered in dust and visibly haggard, they were unmistakably alive. The usually composed second young master of the He family threw all decorum to the wind, letting out a loud cry as he threw his arms around his father and brother. He Chunhua stroked his head. "All right, all right. You've had a hard time these days." He Lingchuan gave a chuckle. "You ought to wag your tail if you really want to welcome us home." He Yue rubbed his eyes, overjoyed yet unable to believe it. "The wild sand season isn't over yet. How did you come back? Did you not cross the desert?" "It's a long story!" He Lingchuan rubbed his face. "Let's get us washed and settled first. If we scrub the grime off me, it'll weigh a good two jin." "I have urgent news to report as well!" Knowing what mattered most, He Yue grasped his father's arm and said word by word, "Intelligence from the east has finally arrived! The rebel forces at Woling Pass have been suppressed, and Grand Marshal Dong Haoming has raised his banner in rebellion!" This bombshell left the He father and son dumbfounded. He Chunhua suddenly threw his head back and laughed loudly, as if all his worries and gloom had been swept away in one clean stroke. "Good, good, wonderful!" Just then, Madam Ying rushed over as well, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked at her husband. "You're finally back!" ... Not until the eastern sky was fully bright did He Lingchuan climb out of the bathtub, stretching luxuriously, feeling as though reborn. Where in the desert could one find such indulgence? He had soaked through two large tubs of hot water, and only with the bath attendant the He family had hastily hired with extra pay did he finally scrub away all the caked-on dirt and layers of grime. He felt like a man brought back to life. The wild sand season was far from over; that their party could walk out of the Panlong Desert safely was entirely thanks to the escort of the Gale Army's heroic spirits. Wherever these heroic spirits went, the resentful souls and Three Corpse Worms automatically scattered, and even the howling sands quieted down enough for mortals to pass.