Within Liu Meng’s soul banner, one wisp of a soul that had long drifted in numb silence suddenly flickered with clarity.
Liu Meng, who had always kept a sliver of her divine sense locked upon the banner, noticed the change at once.
Her thought stirred, and a cold yet gentle voice rang directly within the soul banner:
“Senior Sister, you are awake?”
That voice—icy and distant as it was—struck Qin Shuang like a thunderclap. Her delicate body trembled as if jolted from death.
Slowly, she “opened” her eyes, confusion swirling in her gaze. She looked around at the grand residence, a phantom hall conjured from the soul banner itself. At first, bewilderment clouded her eyes… and then, something deeper—an emotion beyond words.
She remembered.
She remembered that venomous shadow striking her, the terrifying poison coursing through her soul, her spirit about to shatter beyond salvation.
She remembered, too, that final desperate moment—when she willingly cultivated Liu Meng’s “True Resolve of Severing the Three Corpses and Condensing the Dao”, surrendering her very essence to transform into a flawless soul and merge with Liu Meng’s banner.
She should have vanished into oblivion.
And yet—she was awake once more.
Could it be…
A shocking thought surged into her mind, leaving her lips trembling:
“Junior Sister… I truly did not misjudge you.”
Her words spilled forth, sincere and brimming with awe.
“I had believed there was no path left for me, that revival was forever beyond reach. But you… you have stepped onto the road of reversing life and death itself. You even restored my shattered spirit. Tell me, Junior Sister—how far have you gone? Nascent Soul? Or have you already touched the Realm of Spirit Transformation?”
Liu Meng: “...?”
She blinked, inwardly baffled. Was her Senior Sister… misunderstanding something?
Quickly, she spoke to clarify, her tone earnest:
“Senior Sister, no—it was not I who revived you. Rather, it was the secret art you once taught me. That technique is far deeper than even you imagined.”
Without concealment, Liu Meng recounted everything—the connections between the True Resolve of Severing the Three Corpses and the Luo Shan Formula, and the true nature of the art.
When she finished, Qin Shuang fell silent.
For a long time, she said nothing. At last, a faint, almost bitter smile touched her lips.
How ironic. The very secret technique she had once used as bait to test Liu Meng—one that she had even planned to turn against her—had become the thread that saved her life.
Half a life, at least.
Her cultivation had been sealed, locked forever at the middle stage of Qi Refining, never again to progress.
But to keep her consciousness intact—to remain more than a drifting ghost—was already a fortune beyond imagining for one who should have died.
And perhaps… perhaps not all was lost.
If Liu Meng truly one day ascended to the loftiest heights, might there not be a chance for her revival?
Breathing deeply, Qin Shuang steadied her heart and gave a faint smile.
“Junior Sister, it seems now we are bound together in truth. If I am to regain life, it rests upon you alone. Whatever doubts you carry, speak them without reserve—I will hold nothing back.”
Joy sparked in Liu Meng’s heart. She hurried to ask the question weighing most heavily on her mind:
“Senior Sister, do you know of something called the ‘Decaying Realm of Dharma’?”
“The Decaying Realm of Dharma?” Qin Shuang’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Where did you hear that term?”
“While outside the sect some days ago, I overheard disciples from another mountain discussing it,” Liu Meng replied smoothly.
Qin Shuang accepted this explanation without suspicion. After all, Liu Meng was now a formal disciple; such whispers were within her reach.
She pondered a moment, then spoke with calm authority:
“As the name suggests, a Decaying Realm of Dharma is a secret realm whose spiritual qi has been exhausted.”
“You must know—every secret realm is, in essence, a small world apart from the mortal plane. But the spiritual qi within is not infinite. Over time, it dwindles. Eventually, it runs dry.”
“When that day comes, the realm enters its end. Without qi, no cultivator may cultivate within. Even spirit treasures will slowly lose their essence, until they become nothing but ordinary trinkets.”
Her voice softened, yet carried a warning weight:
“But do not underestimate such relics. Even the faintest remnant of spiritual power can display miraculous effects. Never dismiss them as worthless.”
Hearing this, Liu Meng’s heart tightened. So—Zhou Hairui had indeed withheld part of the truth. Had she not learned it here, she might have walked into calamity blind.
Qin Shuang did not notice her thoughts and continued:
“When you step into a Decaying Realm, the spiritual power within your body will be your last safeguard. Spend it carelessly, and when it runs dry, you will be no different from a mortal—defenseless, fragile, doomed.”
“Thus, you must not squander your strength.”
“But beware—whether or not you wield it, your spiritual power will steadily leak away within such a realm.”
“The true challenge lies not in preservation alone, but in choosing when and where you dare to spend it.”
Liu Meng nodded gravely, engraving each word upon her heart.
Then she pressed again:
“Senior Sister, do you know of any techniques suited for such realms? Perhaps… something that can be mastered within two days—something of great help in the Decaying Realm?”
Qin Shuang fell silent, deep in thought. Finally, she shook her head with quiet regret.
“Such arts do exist—but each requires years, decades of cultivation before they bear fruit. To master one in mere days? I have never heard of such a thing.”
Liu Meng exhaled softly. Of course. Miracles do not come so cheaply.
Besides, Qin Yi—the avatar who would tread that realm—was meant for long-term growth. Risky, self-devouring techniques were no path for him.
Still, the monthly exchange of techniques could not be wasted. Even a lesser art was better than nothing.
If Qin Yi perished in the Decaying Realm, then the chance would be lost forever. To return empty-handed would be a bitter loss indeed.
Having decided thus, Qin Yi—far away in the depths of Bloodfeast Valley—rose from his stone bed.
After confirming no eyes watched him, he left his quarters, transforming into a streak of light racing northwest.
That direction led to the Three Talents Market.
But his destination was not the market itself. Rather, it was a withered thousand-year tree not far from its borders.
There, beneath gnarled roots, he dug quickly into damp soil. Soon he unearthed a bundle swathed tightly in oilcloth.
Opening it with care, his eyes lit upon a stack of talismans, each shimmering with faint spiritual light.
These were the fifth-rank talismans that Liu Jiu had tirelessly forged without rest—
The Sharp Gold Talismans, capable of striking with the force of a late-stage Qi Refiner.The Swiftstride Talismans, which lent speed like the rushing wind.The Concealment Talismans, to shroud body and aura alike.
Every kind was there, glittering faintly with power.
As Qin Shuang had said, such talismans would still retain some efficacy within a Decaying Realm.
With these in hand, Qin Yi’s odds of survival rose sharply.
Breathing easier, he tucked them away into his storage pouch. He had just finished when faint footsteps stirred from the nearby forest.
His heart tensed. Quickly, he hid the talismans and lowered his head, feigning calm, ready to slip away unnoticed.
But then—
A familiar voice called from behind.
“Oh? A disciple of Bloodfeast Valley? What brings you here alone?”
“Why not come to my cave mansion and cultivate together? My cave is quite spacious. And when you grow weary of training… my maids can attend to you. No problem at all.”