Thirteenth month of death

Chapter 260 Vanishing into the Dust
The gates of the Yama Sect are hidden deep within a dark canyon, where the sun never rises.

When Li Daosheng and Su Moshi flew over the pitch-black sea of ​​clouds on the bronze mirror, the wails of countless wronged souls came from below, sending chills down one's spine.

"The Yama Sect is famous for its ghost-controlling techniques," Su Moshi said, gazing at the rolling black clouds. "That Wusheng Seal is said to be able to communicate between the Yin and Yang realms."

Li Daosheng reached out and lightly touched the dark cloud, his fingertips immediately frosting over: "Let's go."

The bronze mirror pierced through the dark clouds, and the two landed on a long staircase paved with white bones.

On both sides of the steps stand ghost statues of various shapes and sizes, each one lifelike, as if it might come to life at any moment.

"Who goes there?" a hoarse voice came from the darkness.

Just as Li Daosheng was about to answer, a sudden gust of cold wind swept in.

He instinctively dodged to the side, but saw a dark shadow sweep past him and rush straight towards Su Moshi.

The bronze mirror flashed with a bluish light, and the dark figure let out a shrill scream before turning into bluish smoke and dissipating.

"The Yama Sect's way of treating guests is quite unique," Li Daosheng sneered.

A hunched old man emerged from the darkness, wearing half a bronze demon mask on his face: "Anyone who trespasses into the Yama Sect shall die."

Li Daosheng said no more, and the red light of the blood jade bead appeared in his palm.

Upon seeing this, the old man looked more closely at Li Daosheng's face, and the single eye beneath the demon mask suddenly contracted: "It's you!"

The sensation of the No-Birth Seal came faster than I had imagined.

The entire Yama Sect suddenly trembled, and countless cracks appeared in the ground, from which pale arms emerged.

In the deepest part of the main hall, a beam of black light shot into the sky.

"Stop them!" the old man shouted, and dozens of black-robed disciples surged in from all directions.

Su Moshi used the bronze mirror, and a waterfall of blue light purified all the approaching ghostly figures.

Li Daosheng walked straight towards the main hall, and the disciples who tried to stop him were repelled by an invisible force before they could even get close.

In the center of the main hall, a jet-black jade seal floated in the air, its knob carved with a ferocious ghost head.

When Li Daosheng reached out to touch it, the ghost head suddenly opened its eyes and revealed a strange smile.

A burst of black light erupted, enveloping the entire hall.

When the light faded, Li Daosheng and Su Moshi had vanished, leaving the members of the Yama Sect looking at each other in bewilderment.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The morning mist enveloped Qingxi. Li Daosheng squatted by the stream, scooping up a handful of water to wash his face.

Water droplets slid down his sharply defined jawline, and the long line between his eyebrows was faintly visible in the morning light.

"Here you go." Su Moshi handed over an oil paper package containing steaming hot buns. "They were just steamed."

Li Daosheng took it and took a bite; the delicious broth immediately filled his mouth.

Since leaving the Yama Sect, the two have lived in seclusion in the mortal realm, traveling through the world of mountains and seas like ordinary people.

The power of the four magical treasures reached a delicate balance within Li Daosheng's body, and the influence of Wudao seemed to be temporarily suppressed.

"Where are we going today?" Su Moshi sat on the blue stone by the stream, the bronze mirror swaying gently at his waist.

Li Daosheng pointed to the distant, faintly visible mountain shadows: "I heard there's an ancient city over there, a relic from ancient times."

The nearest point of light was also very far away, and the two would need to use a teleportation array to reach it, so there was no rush at the moment.

At noon, the two stood on the dilapidated city wall of the ancient city.

The weathered stone bricks are covered with ancient characters that no one can decipher, and weeds grow tenaciously from the cracks.

As Li Daosheng stroked the words, he suddenly felt dizzy—the memories of Wudao resurfaced.

He saw a white-clad figure, identical to himself, standing atop this city wall countless years ago, with the burning city and fleeing crowds behind him.

"What's wrong?" Su Moshi's voice pulled him back to reality.

Li Daosheng shook his head: "It's nothing, I just remembered something."

They strolled through the ancient city, occasionally encountering cultivators searching for treasure or mortals gathering herbs.

As evening fell, the two rested in a well-preserved stone pavilion in the city.

The setting sun bathed the stone pillars in gold, and the sound of a shepherd's flute drifted from afar.

“Look,” Su Moshi suddenly pointed to the sky.

A flock of white cranes flew by in a V-formation, their feathers shimmering golden in the setting sun, like a flowing painting.

Looking at the scene, Li Daosheng suddenly smiled: "It's beautiful."

This was the first time he had shown such a pure smile since leaving the Xuanbing Palace.

Three days later, the two arrived at a vast lake.

The lake water is crystal clear, reflecting the blue sky and white clouds, like a giant sapphire.

“This is Mirror Lake,” an old man fishing on the shore told them. “Legend has it that a dragon sleeps at the bottom of the lake.”

Li Daosheng and Su Moshi rented a small boat and rowed towards the center of the lake. The water was as calm as a mirror, and the small boat seemed to float in the air.

Su Moshi bent down and touched the lake water, creating ripples at his fingertips.

"Look!" she suddenly pointed underwater.

A huge black shadow swam through the depths, its scales shimmering with an eerie light.

The creature seemed to sense their presence and suddenly accelerated, creating waves that nearly capsized the small boat.

When the shadowy figure reappeared, it was only a few feet away from the small boat.

It was indeed a dragon—its slender body was covered with bluish-green scales, and its whiskers flowed like silk.

It scrutinized the two with its golden, vertical pupils, its eyes gleaming with wisdom.

Li Daosheng and Long locked eyes, and Wudao's memories resurfaced.

Many years ago, Wudao stood by the lake, holding a scale in his hand, and he had seen this dragon before.

The dragon seemed to recognize something, let out a low roar, and slowly sank into the water.

A moment later, it surfaced again, holding a pearl in its mouth, and gently placed it on the bow of the boat.

"This is..." Su Moshi looked at the bead that emitted a soft light in surprise.

“Dragon Ball,” Li Daosheng said softly, “It recognized my aura.”

The dragon glanced at them one last time, then turned and swam into the depths, quickly disappearing into the azure waters of the lake.

That evening, the two rested by the lake.

The Dragon Ball floated beside the campfire, illuminating a small area.

Li Daosheng gazed at the flickering flames and suddenly spoke: "Coming here was a sudden whim of mine; I never imagined that Wudao's traces would be here as well."

"Fairy Su, if one day I completely become ruthless, what will you do?"

Su Moshi poked at the fire, sparks rising up: "I will find a way to turn you back."

This wasn't the first time Li Daosheng had asked such a question.

His mind was in turmoil.

"What if it doesn't work?"

"Then I'll kill you." Her voice was soft, but firm. "And then I'll go settle accounts with Wudao."

Li Daosheng smiled and said, "Okay."

A month later, the two arrived at a fishing village on the coast of the East China Sea.

The village is very small, with only a few dozen households, but the villagers are warm and hospitable.

Hearing that the two were traveling monks, the village chief specially set aside a house by the sea for them to stay in temporarily.

Li Daosheng was awakened by the sound of the waves at dawn.

He stepped out of the house and saw Su Moshi already standing on the reef, the sea breeze blowing her robes, and the rising sun gilding her with a layer of gold.

“Today the fishermen are going out to sea to worship the sea god,” she said, turning to Li Daosheng, “and they’ve invited us to come along.”

The festival was lively, with villagers dressed in colorful clothes, singing and dancing. The fishing boats were decorated beautifully, their prows laden with offerings. As the sun reached its zenith, the fleet set off in a grand procession.

Li Daosheng and Su Moshi stood on the deck of the main ship, watching the azure sea being cleaved open by the bow, forming white waves. Seagulls circled overhead, emitting clear cries.

"Look over there!" a young fisherman suddenly shouted.

On the distant sea, schools of fish leap out of the water, drawing graceful arcs in the air.

They seemed very interested in the fleet and quickly swam closer to play beside the ships.

"A good omen!" The old captain smiled, his face crinkling with wrinkles. "The sea god likes our offerings."

The festival lasted until evening.

As the setting sun painted the sea golden, the fleet returned to port.

Li Daosheng leaned against the ship's railing, watching the land gradually approach.

At that moment, he felt a peace he had never known before.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

One day, two days, ten days, one month...

The two traveled to many corners of the Mountain and Sea Realm.

They have witnessed the most magnificent sunrises atop snow-capped mountains and heard the most enchanting streams in deep valleys; they have helped villagers drive away harmful monsters and fought powerful cultivators in the wilderness.

On this day, the two arrived at a bamboo forest.

It was the dead of winter, and while trees elsewhere had long since withered, the bamboo here remained lush and green, its leaves rustling softly in the breeze.

This is the teleportation array leading to the next and final magical artifact.

(End of this chapter)