Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Illusory Realm of Fading Essence

With a thunderous crash, the stone door toppled straight down, sending up a cloud of dust and shattered rocks. A chilly wind swept in immediately afterwards.

Everyone behind watched in stunned silence.

“How did you know there was a mechanism here?” It was Mie Ying who spoke first.

“No, I didn’t press anything. It didn’t seem like a trap.”

“Then what did you use—some kind of immortal art?” Mie Ying asked.

“I didn’t recite any incantations.”

“Then what happened?” Hua Sheng, too, looked bewildered as he slowly stepped outside the stone door. The night sky, scattered with countless stars, unfolded before him, and the gentle rustling of leaves swayed by the night breeze drifted from all around.

Before him stretched a broad road paved with pebbles—one he remembered all too well. On either side stood towering ancient trees, and between the trees, four grand pavilions rose on each side, eight in total. At the end of the avenue loomed a majestic mountain, soaring into the clouds, its peak wreathed in mist.

The first time he’d walked this path, he’d followed Hei Yun.

“The Academy of Mystical Arts?” The Young Lord Tai Shang followed him out.

“We’re back?” It was the rotund disciple, Rong Ping, who spoke, his voice brimming with relief. “Thank heavens!”

Only after they had all exited did they realize they had been inside an enormous rectangular stone box. The stone walls were at least ten feet thick.

Xuan Wen pointed to his own mouth and made muffled sounds: “Mmm...mmm...”

Seeing this, the Young Lord Tai Shang dispelled Tian Jizi’s binding spell. “What did you want to say?”

After gulping several breaths of fresh air, Xuan Wen said, “Even thick stone walls can be smashed to pieces. This box must have been enchanted.”

“Without magic, how could it possibly confine the disciples of the Academy?” another remarked.

“It truly is a formation laid by an immortal master,” Xuan Wen replied.

Tian Jizi also stepped out of the stone box, glancing back as he spoke, “But now that the second trial has ended and the third is yet to begin, why were we imprisoned inside?”

No one could answer. Judging by the sky, it was the middle of the night. The grounds of the Academy were utterly deserted.

“Perhaps the last two trials dragged on too long—everyone’s retired to their rooms,” Qi Guang suggested. “We may as well go rest and seek out the masters in the morning.”

“Excellent idea. I must get some sleep at once. Good night, everyone. Rest well, for we’ll need our strength for the next round.” With that, Xuan Wen departed.

Tian Jizi and Mie Ying said nothing, turning to ride their clouds away.

Reminded thus, Hua Sheng suddenly felt a wave of drowsiness crash over him and prepared to return to his quarters. Seeing Rong Ping still circling the massive stone box, he asked, “Why don’t you head back?”

Rong Ping wiped his brow—his forehead wound no longer bleeding, though both sleeves and his chest were stained with blood. “I’m just wondering why this box was placed right here on the Sacred Way. You go on ahead; I’ll follow soon.”

Hua Sheng, realizing Rong Ping wished to linger, and feeling as if his own eyelids were weighed down with lead, asked no more and walked off with the Young Lord Tai Shang.

The Academy grounds were eerily silent—not a sound to be heard. Soon enough, Hua Sheng and the Young Lord stepped into their courtyard, entered the main hall, and collapsed into chairs. His legs were numb, his back sore—after two consecutive rounds of the Celestial Eye trial, exhaustion overwhelmed him.

The Young Lord followed but lingered outside in the courtyard, not coming in.

“What are you doing out there? Why not come inside?” Hua Sheng curled up in the chair, resting his head on the armrest, his mind heavy with fatigue.

“Nothing. I’ll come in right away.”

Hua Sheng heard this, thought to urge him again, but found himself too tired to speak. The moment he sat down, sleep descended like a flood, his thoughts becoming muddled.

And then, Hua Sheng dreamed a strange dream. He was walking atop the Black Tortoise Mountain of the Academy, where he saw Wei Yu sitting on the stone steps before the Lingyan Tower. Wei Yu’s delicate profile, bathed in moonlight, was flawless—otherworldly. Yet her gaze was distant, as if lost in thought.

He crept closer, intent on surprising her. But as he approached, he saw tears streaming down her cheeks. Wei Yu made no sound, merely wept in silence.

“Time. Time.” He heard her murmur the word softly, over and over.

Hua Sheng stopped in his tracks.

“What should I do... what should I do? Great Monk, why did you give me this time...” Wei Yu’s eyes were vacant, her whispering words incomprehensible.

What kind of girl was Wei Yu, truly? Hua Sheng found himself pondering. He recalled how she had shown sudden, inexplicable fear before, and now, such sorrow. The girl before him was nothing like the one he’d heard described.

Or perhaps, he realized, he had never truly understood her. He wasn’t even sure if all girls were like this; he’d never been so close to one before. Although many girls at her age were prone to moodiness, Hua Sheng was certain that wasn’t the reason for Wei Yu’s behavior.

In front of others, Wei Yu always seemed unusually mature and aloof, but with Hua Sheng, she was warm and enthusiastic. Sometimes, though, she was like a helpless child. When she trembled, she seemed less a child lost in the woods, more a child abandoned deep within it.

And beyond that, Wei Yu seemed to bear some unspoken, crushing burden.

It was all a mystery.

Wei Yu’s muttering left Hua Sheng utterly bewildered. As he tried to approach, he heard her alert voice: “Who’s there?”

“It’s me.” Seeing nowhere to hide, Hua Sheng stepped forward.

Wei Yu looked at him, surprised and puzzled. She quickly wiped away her tears.

“Hua Sheng? Why are you here?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb—”

“No, wait.” She raised a hand to stop him. “Where did you come from? How are you here?”

Hua Sheng thought back but couldn’t recall how he’d arrived atop the mountain. “I was taking part in the Celestial Eye trial—somehow, I ended up here.”

“You participated in the Celestial Eye trial?”

“Yes.”

“And you wound up here during it?”

“I can’t explain it. Perhaps the trial is over for now.”

“Why did you participate in that trial? Only top disciples dare attempt it.”

Hua Sheng hesitated, then decided not to hide the truth from her.

“Because Tian Jizi always wins the trial. I thought, if I could beat him, then he would promise me something.”

“Promise you what?”

“To not stand in the way between you and me.”

Wei Yu fell silent for a moment. “All because of what he said that night? Why take it to heart?”

Hua Sheng said nothing.

“Tian Jizi won’t always win,” Wei Yu said suddenly.

Hua Sheng’s spirits lifted. “Really? You believe I can do it?”

Wei Yu said, “Though Tian Jizi possesses supreme fortune, if he relies too much on it, he will eventually be defeated.”

Hua Sheng wanted to tell her his plan. “I’ve thought of a way—though I’m not sure it’ll work. I plan to—”

She stopped him with a gesture. “No, you don’t need to tell me your plan. Just remember: fortune is not insurmountable—only one thing is truly unbeatable.”

“What’s that?”

“Logic.”

Hua Sheng was stunned, thinking he’d misheard. He had expected her to mention some secret art.

“Logic? Is that an immortal technique?”

“Logic is logic. Hua Sheng, you came from the mortal world—you should know what I mean.”

“But how can logic defeat supreme fortune? Fortune transcends even magic itself.”

Wei Yu spoke slowly. “This has nothing to do with magic. Remember—only logic is invincible in this world. Just as there cannot be black swans that are white. The simpler the logic, the stronger it is. The only thing that can defeat logic—is logic itself.”

“Logic...” Hua Sheng savored the word.

“You should go back.”

“But why are you still out here so late? Let’s go together.”

“No.” Wei Yu shook her head. “I want to sit here a while longer.”

“Here by the Lingyan Tower? It’s too cold on the mountaintop—you’ll get sick sitting on the steps.”

“I’ll be fine. Go on.”

“Wei Yu, is something weighing on your mind? Last time, and now again—what are you so worried about? And just now, I saw you crying.” Hua Sheng couldn’t help but worry.

“This is just how I am—sometimes I seem lost, or a little mad, perhaps even slipping into confusion.” Wei Yu’s lips curled into a tired, faint smile.

Yet despite her words, she was clearly quite lucid—perhaps even more rational than most.

“Nonsense! If you’re mad, then I must be far worse!” Hua Sheng retorted, trying to approach her—when suddenly, his foot slipped and he crashed to the ground. The bricks were especially hard, and pain shot through him.

“Hey! Are you alright?” Out of nowhere, came the voice of the Young Lord Tai Shang.

Hua Sheng scrambled up and realized he had fallen from his chair. It had all been a dream. Rubbing his shoulder, he asked, “I must have dozed off and had a strange dream. How long was I asleep?”

“You fell asleep?”

“I must have. What happened just now?”

“You asked why I hadn’t come in—so I did.”

“What? But it felt like I slept for ages.” Hua Sheng pressed his temples. “Let’s rest. I’m so tired I can barely think straight.”

With that, he headed toward the bedroom. After two steps, he noticed the Young Lord hadn’t followed. “Why are you still standing there? Aren’t you tired? I’ll go in first, then.”

“This isn’t the time for sleep.”

“Why?” Hua Sheng asked, a hint of irritation in his voice—people are never patient when exhausted.

“Remember the flower in our courtyard?”

“What? Which flower?”

“The day you were casting a spell on it—I happened to walk in.”

“I remember. I accidentally withered it, but you restored it. So what?”

The Young Lord pulled Hua Sheng outside and pointed at a fresh flower on the ground. “There’s something wrong with this flower.”

Annoyance crept into Hua Sheng’s tone. “Isn’t that the same flower? It’s too dark to see clearly, but it looks fine.”

“Do you remember what color it was?”

“How long ago was that? I can’t remember. Yellowish, I think?”

“It was pale yellow,” the Young Lord said.

Hua Sheng crouched to examine the flower. It was indeed pale yellow, petals fully opened, as if it had just bloomed.

“What’s the problem? I’m too tired to care about flowers.” He started to rise.

“It shouldn’t be pale yellow.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I restored the petals, I made them blue.”

The Young Lord’s words scattered Hua Sheng’s sleepiness. “Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”

“I don’t make mistakes,” the Young Lord replied, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

“So what? Maybe your blue flower wilted and a yellow one grew in its place. These flowers are often the same variety—similar colors blooming in the same spot isn’t strange.”

The Young Lord crouched down, plucked a petal, and pressed it in his palm. Instantly, it turned to powder.

Hua Sheng recoiled. “What spell did you cast? Why did it turn to dust?”

“I didn’t use any spell.”

“Then how—?”

“That’s the spell.”

“What do you mean?”

Suddenly, the Young Lord’s expression grew grave. “We’ve been deceived! This place could be anywhere—but it’s certainly not the Academy of Mystical Arts!”