Chapter 43: The Sea of Flowers of Reincarnation Unveils the Truth

Just as Luo Gan was about to step out, he suddenly remembered the matter of the Chixiao Sword vanishing in illusion earlier, and decided to ask the shaman woman about it.

The shaman replied, “Your cultivation is not yet sufficient to command this sword. It cannot freely manifest in the world at your will; it will only appear when certain conditions are met.”

Luo Gan asked, “Since the Chixiao Sword chose me, is it because… I was Liu Bang in a previous life, possessing the temperament of a king?”

She shook her head. “More likely because you’re rather sly and crafty, with a contradictory personality. That’s why you have this unpredictable Chixiao Sword, which oscillates between good and evil.”

What? Sly and crafty? Being so bluntly cut down, Luo Gan felt any protagonist’s aura he might have had was completely gone. Other contenders probably wielded sacred artifacts or treasures, while he was stuck with this unstable thing.

But so be it—complaints aside, for now, he could only rely on this sword to survive the trials ahead.

Carrying a mind crowded with worries, he stepped out of the bamboo grove’s secret realm, only to realize he’d forgotten to ask where Erhu was. Behind him, the clearing reverted to that giant bamboo, and when Luo Gan tried to go back, he only managed to bump his head to dizziness.

The Chixiao Sword emitted a red glow, and his hand, as if not his own, trembled and pointed the sword in a particular direction. Luo Gan felt bewildered, then on a sudden impulse, slapped himself across the face.

A message flashed before his eyes: “Follow your instinct.”

Luo Gan was quite frustrated. What kind of half-hearted hint was this? No explanation, no details—utterly muddled. Worse yet, there wasn’t a soul beside him; he was like a lone hero venturing into unknown territory. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Given the circumstances, he had no choice but to proceed cautiously in the direction indicated. The red glow on the sword’s blade grew weaker, and he caught faint glimpses of odd totems, but as soon as he tried to look closer, they vanished.

A sudden “whoosh”—Luo Gan froze, muttering, “Here comes that ominous feeling again,” as he abruptly plunged into an underground tunnel.

Beneath him was a slide fashioned from bamboo, and he shot downward at high speed. Clutching the sword tightly to his chest with one hand, he tried to press against the slide with the other, the searing pain scraping away a layer of skin. His screams echoed all the way down, and a few spirits tumbled alongside him, drifting through the air.

Luo Gan complained, “Why do I always fall down while you all float? Why am I the only one suffering?”

A spirit wearing an official’s hat turned its head. “Because you’re still alive. Want to fly with us?”

Luo Gan was left speechless.

He shouted, “So where are we going?!”

“To reincarnation, of course! Are you lost or something? Don’t you know why you’re here?”

Landing in a pile of fallen leaves heaped two meters high, Luo Gan crashed right into the center, leaving a gaping hole.

The spirit watched Luo Gan and stifled a laugh. “Look at you, all nervous on your first time here. Never seen the world before, have you?”

Luo Gan scrambled up awkwardly, the Chixiao Sword still lodged in the pile. He pawed through the leaves like a dog searching for it.

The spirit’s official hat sat askew on its head, nearly falling off, but with a toss, it straightened it once more.

“Hmph. Everyone who ends up here has no life left, yet you’re still hung up on worldly possessions. You can’t take them with you when you go.”

“Did anyone ask for your opinion? Since when are spirits so nosy?” Luo Gan retorted.

“Hmph. Can’t you keep yourself tidy? Covered in leaves—no sense of decency at all,” the spirit sniffed.

Luo Gan paused. That phrase, “no sense of decency,” sounded oddly familiar. Such an irritating manner—who else could it be?

“Though you don’t look like him, you really do talk like Magistrate Wang I met before,” Luo Gan remarked.

“Magistrate Wang? I can’t remember what I was like when alive,” the spirit replied with a hollow laugh.

Luo Gan realized communication was futile—after all, these were just spirits. Looking ahead, he saw an expanse of red blossoms, flowers of all sizes in full bloom. Many spirits descended from the sky, entering the buds, which then closed tightly. The sky was set aflame with crimson, and beside it, a curtain of pitch-black night slowly devoured the red as time passed.

“What… is this place?” he asked.

“The origin of reincarnation. Lost souls from the world all come to the sea of flowers,” the spirit answered.

A thought struck him—how had he come from the bamboo grove to such a ghostly realm? Did the Chixiao Sword have some hidden purpose in leading him here?

As a flower was about to close, the spirit glanced at it, then floated over, not even pausing to say goodbye. Settling into the blossom like a swaddled infant, the spirit seemed utterly at peace, falling into a serene slumber. The petals then sealed, as if the flower had never bloomed at all—except now, it bore the official hat atop it, distinguishing it from the others.

Luo Gan walked toward the sea of flowers. From afar, the blossoms seemed unremarkable, but up close, each was as tall as a person, large enough to cradle an adult in its embrace. He approached the flower where the spirit with the official hat had vanished; though the flower was silent, the Chixiao Sword resonated fiercely, flashing with red light.

As Luo Gan reached out to touch the blossom, a vision overwhelmed him.

The clangor of gold and iron, the thunder of warhorses—Little Minion A appeared, joining him in robbing villagers, committing all manner of evil deeds. Then Little Minion B emerged, earning merit after merit, the scene shifting to sleepless nights, eyes fixed greedily on the dragon throne, heart pounding with ambition. Suddenly, Little Minion A produced a letter—it was a modern medical report! The two read it together, terror-stricken, and fled into the night, fearing their secrets exposed…

Pursued relentlessly by Tang soldiers, only Minion A and B remained to cover the escape, the three barely making it out alive.

Disheveled and desperate, they reached the relay station near Anping County, sensed something wrong with the patrols, and Minion B pulled a station horse over for himself. Minion A, without hesitation, killed the station clerk… but the horse, frightened by its master’s death, bolted wildly…

The vision ended.

Luo Gan’s awareness returned to the sea of flowers, and he collapsed to the ground.

So, the spirit before him was indeed Magistrate Wang. Their origins were far from simple—they had been a general, ambitious and driven, whose life was upended by a single letter.

If these spirits were the state after death, then Magistrate Wang and the minions had surely already entered the cycle of reincarnation. But who had set them up?

What was even more tragic was that they would never know, in life, that this letter posed no real threat to them—it was merely a medical report concerning a rival. The whims of fate are cruel. For Luo Gan, the only solace was that the letter’s source was someone close to Magistrate Wang; while still a general, his adversary had already embedded himself deeply in officialdom!

How chilling. A thought struck him—could Erhu have ended up here as well?

Luo Gan started running, searching through the sea of flowers for a blossom that might belong to Erhu. If Magistrate Wang’s was marked by an official’s hat, what about Erhu? A hoe? A tiger? Luo Gan touched several oddly shaped flowers, but the Chixiao Sword gave no response, and no new visions appeared.

The sky’s red hue continued to fade, and Luo Gan, growing frantic, tried to recall what set Erhu apart—his likes, his quirks.

Suddenly, he remembered their first meeting—how Erhu had yanked him up and scolded him. He remembered all the times Erhu had accompanied him into town, and how, when the Dragonfolk plotted against him, Erhu had stood up for him. Luo Gan’s heart ached. In this illusory world, Erhu was perhaps his dearest companion. He couldn’t let him die.

At that moment, Luo Gan was struck by a flash of insight and dashed toward a distant, unusually shaped flower.

This blossom was curled into a ball with fangs, and its leaves were unmistakably bear paws.

“Erhu, oh Erhu, it has to be you, you bear-mouthed rascal!” Luo Gan exclaimed.