Song Qianji had ventured into Blood River Valley seven times in his previous life, accumulating rich experience, along with the information provided by his workaholic spirit in this life for extra credit. Even if the incident was sudden and he didn’t know where Miaoyan had taken him, a bit of exploration would quickly help him find his way.
Song Qianji headed toward the deepest part of the secret realm, searching for someone.
According to Hua Wei Zhenren’s personal experience, he was once pursued by enemies, severely injured, and fell off a cliff, only to suddenly see a lake.
The Three Lives Stone lay at the bottom of the lake. On the night of the full moon, the lake could reflect the "past" and "future."
Today was still three days away from the true full moon.
"Is this your doppelganger? How many more are there? Why not bring them all out to meet me?"
The spirit pearl in Song Qianji’s sleeve glowed red. He walked to the edge of the perilous cliff and summoned the Shadowless Sword.
Thick fog enveloped the cliff. The morning sun’s rays could not pierce the clouds, casting only blurred shadows.
A figure hidden in the fog on the opposite side spoke:
"How did you know I was here?"
It was a clear, youthful voice.
Along with the voice came a crisp "pattering" sound from the mist, like pearls falling onto a jade plate.
"Just a guess." Song Qianji stepped closer, his posture relaxed. "Blood River Valley is vast, but there aren’t many truly important places. If you want to control the situation and stir up trouble, you’d likely use the power of the 'Three Lives Stone' to spy on the future."
Wuxiang first appeared by the Red River, where a great serpent slept beneath the waters.
The second time, he appeared in the Ice Cave, where Chaos was sealed below.
If there was any other place in Blood River Valley that was particularly special or could cause massive destruction if damaged, it would be the deepest part of the secret realm—after all, the "Three Lives Stone" lay at the bottom of the lake beneath this cliff.
Song Qianji weighed the Shadowless Sword in his hand, swinging it casually as if it were a hiking stick.
"Aren’t you afraid?" Wuxiang asked.
"What should I be afraid of?" Song Qianji replied.
"Aren’t you afraid that I deliberately lured you here?"
"Patter, patter."
The sound suddenly quickened, like urgent drumbeats on a stage or the clash of weapons in close combat.
Song Qianji laughed. "At this moment, I’m alone. What is there to fear?"
For most people, being in a crowd brings a sense of security. Even if one isn’t worried about ambushes or danger, they might still fear loneliness.
But for Song Qianji, the opposite was true.
"This time, what choices will you force me to make?" Song Qianji asked.
Whether at the Red River or the Ice Cave’s Underground Palace, the other party excelled at using others’ lives to create dilemmas, trying to compel him to make decisions.
Wuxiang sighed. "You’ve killed me twice, and I’ve lost twice. That means my previous methods are useless against you. Why should I waste my efforts? If this body dies, I’ll only have one doppelganger left. Don’t overthink it—I’ve suffered heavy injuries this time. Without over a decade of recovery, I won’t be able to cultivate any more."
After switching to a youthful voice, his tone and word choice changed accordingly, sounding like a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old.
As his words faded, a mountain breeze rose, slightly dispersing the thick fog. Sunlight pierced through the clouds, illuminating the cliff.
Song Qianji saw a young man in white robes sitting cross-legged under a bodhi tree.
Before him was an ebony chessboard, with only a dozen or so black and white pieces placed—the game had just begun, not yet taking shape.
So, the intermittent, crisp sounds earlier were not the clash of blades but the tapping of chess pieces on the board.
The chessboard was plain and crudely made, unvarnished, with clear wood grain. But from the moment Song Qianji saw it, he couldn’t take his eyes off it, no longer even looking at Wuxiang.
"Care for a game?" Wuxiang asked.Song Qianji raised an eyebrow: "Last time I said that no matter where you flee, I will hunt you down and slay you with my sword. Do you remember?"
"Of course. I also remember how you left behind the 'Three Trials of Star-Picking' at the Star-Picking Platform, and never truly played a game of chess with anyone since." Wuxiang lightly tapped the chessboard with his finger. "Don't you want to take a closer look at it?"
Song Qianji stepped forward and sat opposite the youth.
The other was right—playing chess with Ji Chen was merely teaching, not a true game.
Just as before entering the secret realm, he had never encountered a true enemy that required him to pursue relentlessly with all his might.
Song Qianji rested one hand on his sword, placing the Shadowless Sword across his knees, while with the other he picked up a cold chess piece and gazed down at the board.
"The white pieces have an unfavorable opening. Why choose white?" Wuxiang asked.
"I excel at turning desperate situations around," Song Qianji replied. "Thousand Canals was once a dead land too."
Wuxiang nodded, actually smiling sincerely: "'When one bird dies, a hundred cry out. When one beast flees, a hundred are startled.' You alone are enough to stir up the world. How could the Huawel Sect have imagined today when they gave you Thousand-Ditch Prefecture back then?"
As the white piece landed, Song Qianji's fingertip touched the chessboard and paused slightly.
Though clearly inanimate, within it pulsed a mysterious vitality.
This life force emanated from the decaying wooden chessboard, like a dying man in the desert bursting with a powerful will to survive.
Affected by this unique aura, the Fountain of Immortality trembled within his Purple Palace, as if wanting to nourish the withered wood.
"What is this?!" Song Qianji's voice carried a sharp edge.
Wuxiang murmured mysteriously: "It's a withered root from beneath the Sky-Supporting Tree. That tree is beautiful—since you cherish flowers and plants so deeply, had you seen it, you would have loved it dearly."
Song Qianji produced a dark red bead from his sleeve: "Xian Jianchen told me this is a magical artifact you created yourself, containing sap from the heartwood of the Sky-Supporting Tree."
"Correct. In this world, only I can refine artifacts using the Sky-Supporting Tree." Wuxiang placed a piece.
Song Qianji's heart stirred, suddenly recalling what Xian Jianchen had told him before entering the secret realm—the calamity had arrived early.
He had already destroyed two avatars—where was this person's true body? Could it be inside the Sky-Supporting Tree? Why hadn't he acted like this in the previous life?
"Sap from the heartwood, withered roots—what else do you have?" Song Qianji asked.
"I still have a seed."
"A seed of the Sky-Supporting Tree? Can it grow a new tree?"
"Indeed." Wuxiang smiled. "You've already shown me all your cards—the Dragon Slaying Formation, the Seven Wonders Zither, Painted Spring Mountain... Since we're going to cooperate, I can show you that seed as a gesture of sincerity."
Song Qianji found it absurd: "When did I ever say I would cooperate with you?"
Wuxiang countered with a question: "You've been in the secret realm so long—don't you want to know what's happening outside? Don't you want to see your vegetable garden?"
Song Qianji: "When I get out—"
Before he could finish, a crisp tap sounded as Wuxiang lightly declared:
"Look!"
A black piece landed in the exact center of the board.
The straight grid lines on the withered wooden chessboard instantly dissolved, transforming into a crystalline mirror reflecting blue skies, sunrise over seas of clouds, bodhi leaves falling, and the two youths playing chess.
The reflections in the board rapidly shifted—their faces vanished, replaced by a butterfly fluttering past eaves to settle on waterfall-like wisteria.
"My flower trellis," Song Qianji murmured.
It was precisely when blossoms danced in profusion—vivid purples and brilliant reds competing in glorious display.The vegetables in the garden flourished, vibrant and lush.
"You care less for people than you do for your garden and fields, don't you?" Wuxiang murmured softly. "Song Qianji, we are kindred spirits."
The scene shifted to a dimly lit mine shaft, where a crowd of cultivators, faces twisted with fervor, wielded daggers as they hacked at a root. They collected its crimson sap in jade vessels.
"The roots of the Sky-Supporting Tree span the continent. Whenever cultivators unearth one, they drain it to the marrow to enhance their own cultivation," Wuxiang declared. "Once one treads the path of cultivation, plunder and encroachment begin."
A jade vial tumbled to the ground, spilling its contents. Arguments erupted, escalating into clashes as magical artifacts were summoned. The mine shaft trembled, soon awash in blood.
"In their pursuit of cultivation, mortals transform into cultivators, bolstering their luck through offerings and worship. Yet, with great power comes insatiable greed. The avarice, fear, and hatred in human hearts are enough to destroy everything."
Wuxiang's voice grew ethereal. Countless images surged forth, flooding Song Qianji's vision.
Spirit Qi withered, the earth cracked. Vultures circled above fields of corpses.
Heavenly fire rained down, engulfing villages and towns in flames as mortals screamed in agony.
"This world was never meant to have cultivators or the Calligraphy Way. Such power should be returned to heaven and earth."
"This world is doomed to ruin. Even if you delay its fate, it is but a fleeting respite! Only by breaking the old can we establish the new—let everything begin anew!"
"When the old Domain perishes and the new one rises, you shall be its sole deity!"
"Me?" Song Qianji asked.
His expression was dazed, as if overwhelmed by the rapidly shifting scenes and the persuasive, mesmerizing words.
"This time, I choose you," Wuxiang said.
"Wrong!" Song Qianji's eyes snapped open, clarity and resolve shining within them.
Tap!
A white stone landed on the board!
The vision shattered, and the chessboard reappeared.
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