Chapter Eighty-Eight: Return of the Soul

To help Yu Lang suppress the restless energies within his body, Guo Lusheng was compelled to transfer the Seal of Life and Death into him, letting the yin-yang fish formed by the seal merge with his essence. The yin-yang fish operated as its own system, guiding the wild forces inside Yu Lang to flow in harmony—life begetting death, death begetting life—ultimately achieving a delicate balance.

Only then did Yu Lang break free from tremendous agony, though the price was the sealing of all his cultivation. Seeing the pain gradually fade from Yu Lang’s face, Red Silk finally felt relieved. Following Old Guo’s instructions, she gently laid Yu Lang flat in the carriage and carefully wiped away the blood from his body.

After discovering that Old Guo was none other than the renowned Guo Lusheng, Xue Wenyang and Xie Zhiqian dared not act presumptuously. They quietly restrained their horses, guarding both sides of the carriage, attentively observing Old Guo’s every move in hopes of absorbing some wisdom. The journey out of Yangzhou had deeply affected the two; though they were considered above average at Moon-Washing Academy, what they saw and heard along the way left them disheartened. They resolved that upon reaching Chang’an, they would strive to improve their own abilities, so they wouldn’t have to hide behind Yu Lang every time danger struck.

Leaving Gourd Pass, they entered a broad, straight official road, and after another three days, finally arrived at Xiaohe Village outside Tangzhou City, the meeting place designated in Yang Yuhuan’s letter.

Perhaps the news of the failed highwaymen had spread, for the entire journey was peaceful. Except for his sealed cultivation, Yu Lang’s body had recovered completely. Guo Lusheng asked Yu Lang about the origin of his Singular Point Dao Seal, whether he had inherited it from a master. Yu Lang regretfully confessed that he had comprehended the seal himself, not inherited it from anyone else.

Guo Lusheng was somewhat disappointed; he had hoped to trace Yu Lang’s line back to the benefactor who once saved his life. Yu Lang himself was puzzled—how could someone else in this world have grasped the same Dao Seal as he? Few in the Tang Dynasty understood the concept of the singularity. He came from the modern era and had gained insights in the Moon-Washing Academy’s library, making it almost impossible for anyone else to have encountered similar experiences and thus comprehended the Singular Point Seal.

Xiaohe Village lay ten miles west of Tangzhou City. If not for winter’s bleakness, it would have been a picturesque hamlet. Guo Lusheng had no acquaintances here, but the hospitable village chief arranged for them to stay among a few families. Though not wealthy, these families were exceedingly pure-hearted and warmly welcomed their guests, slaughtering chickens and cattle to entertain them. Yu Lang, worried they would have no cattle left to farm next year, gave the chief some copper coins to distribute among them.

Yu Lang and his companions spent a pleasant period here, basking in the sun, strolling, or fishing for frozen fish—an idyllic life. Yet half a month passed in a blink, and Yang Yuhuan had still not arrived, leaving Yu Lang anxious.

Fishing beside Yu Lang, Guo Lusheng comforted him, “Don’t fret too much. If Yang Yuhuan doesn’t appear within three days, she likely won’t come at all. When that happens, don’t seek death in Chang’an at the Emperor’s hands. Come wander the world with me, Old Guo. I’d like to see who could possibly take you from my grasp.”

Few in the world have the spirit to utter such words; Yu Lang was fortunate to have met one.

Yet Yu Lang’s heavy heart remained, his expression obstinate. “No matter what, I must go to Chang’an. There are people I must meet, matters I must face.”

By now, the calendar had reached the third year of Tianbao. The An Lushan Rebellion was still a decade away, and Yu Lang was far from the center of Tang power. If he wished to avert the coming catastrophe, he first needed to gain enough political influence. In his original plan, Yang Yuhuan was his ladder to ascend—her presence in the palace would give him ten years to climb to that height. If Yang Yuhuan vanished, he would have to overturn the chessboard and start anew.

Three days passed in a flash, and Yang Yuhuan arrived as promised. But she was no longer the radiant figure from before; cradled in her arms was a blood-soaked hawk, and she herself was at death’s door.

This outcome was beyond Yu Lang’s expectations. His mind reeled—if Yang Yuhuan died now, everything would spiral beyond his control.

Yang Yuhuan looked at Yu Lang with pity and regret. “Young Master Yu, I sensed your plan long ago. I feel for you—a small person bearing such weight. If I had the chance, I’d gladly help you accomplish those tasks. Alas, fate has other plans.”

“Yuhuan, you need not say more. Just tell me, who wounded you so badly? I’ll avenge you!” Deeply moved by her sincerity, Yu Lang recalled their moments together, feeling only sympathy for her.

Yang Yuhuan smiled silently, tears glimmering in her eyes.

Yu Lang then turned to the hawk. “Tell me, who hurt you both?”

The hawk’s gaze was empty. “Telling you is meaningless. She won’t let you seek vengeance, not only because you are no match for that person…”

Yang Yuhuan proudly raised her pale neck. “But also because I love him deeply. Even if he kills me, I still love him.”

Love—an inexplicable, reasonless thing. Yu Lang’s heart was in turmoil, utterly lost, unable to see a path forward. Was it always the case that man proposes, heaven disposes?

Guo Lusheng examined Yang Yuhuan’s wounds and said calmly, “I can prolong your life for half a month. During that time, you will be no different from a normal person, free from pain. But on the day you die, you will suffer immensely. Do you wish to accept my treatment? The choice is yours.”

Guo Lusheng had endured seven lives and deaths, wielding the Seal of Life and Death to dominate the Realm of Enlightenment. Such means of prolonging life were hardly surprising.

Yet for Yang Yuhuan, fifteen days was little more than a drop in the ocean—too brief to change anything. Better to depart freely than endure such agony at the end.

Surprisingly, Yang Yuhuan chose the latter. “Only after dying once do you realize how wonderful it is to be alive. To live another fifteen days is a gift to me. As for pain—ha! If I fear not death, why should I fear pain?”

Guo Lusheng’s expression grew grave. “Forgive my bluntness, but that pain truly is worse than death.”

Yang Yuhuan smiled with tragic beauty, her gaze unyielding. “I’m not afraid.”

Guo Lusheng chose a deserted thatched hut and performed his miraculous life-extending art on Yang Yuhuan. When he emerged, sweat covered his brow and his hair, already gray, seemed even whiter, showing how much energy he had spent.

Yang Yuhuan spun into the sunlight, her long skirt stained with blood like blossoming roses. She looked nothing like a dying woman—more like a young maiden freshly awakened, about to attend a wondrous rendezvous.

“Where is Red Silk? These fifteen days, I will train her to become the new Yang Yuhuan.” Her smile shone with the radiance of spring.

It was her final gift to Yu Lang.