Chapter 118: Bonus – An Unending Dream p2
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As Meng Zhen had expected, Wang Ershao’s death couldn’t be hidden for long. The Wang family soon discovered it.
The Wang family’s patriarch used a special technique to recreate the scene of Wang Ershao’s death and learned that Meng Zhen was the killer.
They sent several Unity Realm experts to hunt her down. Even though Meng Zhen and Qiao Shuang had hidden in the Northern Sea, those experts didn’t back down.
In the dangerous environment of the Northern Sea, their cultivation progressed rapidly. They both reached the peak of the Deity Transformation stage and were just a step away from breaking through.
The Wang family’s experts couldn’t use their full strength in the Northern Sea. They not only had to track Meng Zhen, but they also had to be wary of the demons lurking in the shadows.
The Wang family must have used some special method, because they almost killed Meng Zhen several times. Thankfully, Meng Zhen was always on high alert and managed to escape.
But this made the Wang family’s experts impatient. They launched a full-scale attack, determined to kill Meng Zhen. As for the person who was always with her, they would kill her too. Anyone who was with Meng Zhen was guilty by association and deserved to die.
Meng Zhen and Qiao Shuang were in the midst of a breakthrough, and this attack almost killed them. They fled into the sea.
The so-called Northern Sea actually included a vast misty forest and the adjacent sea. The forest was dangerous, but as long as you were careful, you could survive. However, entering the sea was practically a death sentence.
Meng Zhen and Qiao Shuang were weaker than the Wang family’s experts, and they were outnumbered. Now they were severely injured, facing them directly would be suicide. The only chance of survival was to enter the depths of the Northern Sea.
Meng Zhen wouldn’t give up as long as there was a sliver of hope.
Qiao Shuang wasn’t as badly injured as Meng Zhen. If she left now, her chances of survival would be higher, but as she had said, she would always stay by Meng Zhen’s side.
Under pressure from the Wang family’s relentless pursuit, they plunged into the sea.
The sea was much more dangerous than the misty forest. There were demons whose strength rivaled Unity Realm cultivators. The water was their domain. Even if you were slightly stronger than them, you would still be at a disadvantage, let alone Meng Zhen and Qiao Shuang, who were severely injured.
They found refuge in a place where an ancient beast was slumbering. It was dangerous, but ordinary demons wouldn’t dare to approach it.
The Wang family’s experts didn’t pursue them. They either didn’t dare to enter the sea or had died trying.
This near-death experience allowed them to break through, reaching the Unity Realm.
Even at the Unity Realm, they couldn’t move freely in the Northern Sea. They still had to be cautious.
The greater the pressure, the faster their cultivation progressed. In the outside world, it would have taken them at least a hundred years to reach the peak of the Unity Realm with their talent. But here, in just thirty years, they were almost there.
Thirty years had passed, and the Wang family had long assumed they were dead.
In the current cultivation world, ascenders were rare, and Unity Realm cultivators were considered invincible. Plus, Meng Zhen and Qiao Shuang’s strength had been honed in countless life-or-death battles, far surpassing those who cultivated in a peaceful environment.
Even if the Wang family discovered they were still alive, Meng Zhen wouldn’t be afraid.
They had made a pact to find a secluded paradise and live there together after ascending, but ascension was incredibly difficult. After reaching the peak of the Unity Realm, they stayed in the Northern Sea for another ten years, but their cultivation showed no signs of breaking through.
Ascension seemed like a distant dream, and no sect would accept them now. They decided to find a place to live in seclusion. Meng Zhen found a place that was like a fairyland.
There were mountains, trees, flowers, and water. In spring, the gentle breeze carried the fragrance of crabapple blossoms, filling the air with a sweet scent.
“A’Zhen, this place is beautiful.” Qiao Shuang leaped gracefully, plucking a crabapple blossom from a branch.
It was April, and the crabapple blossoms were in full bloom.
She lowered her head, inhaling the flower’s fragrance, then looked up at Meng Zhen, smiling. “People say that crabapple blossoms have color but no fragrance, but if you smell them closely, they do have a fragrance, it’s just faint.”
Meng Zhen, seemingly mesmerized by either the flowers or the person before her, didn’t respond until Qiao Shuang called her name twice.
“They do have a fragrance.”
Qiao Shuang walked to the stone table and placed the flower in a white porcelain vase. “We can admire the crabapple blossoms in late spring, the lotus flowers in summer, the chrysanthemums in autumn, and the plum blossoms in winter. It’s a poetic life, but it might be a bit lonely.”
“Then I’ll find a way to make it more lively,” Meng Zhen said.
It was just the two of them here, outsiders would only disrupt their peace. Qiao Shuang dismissed her words as a joke.
One day, Qiao Shuang woke up on the couch. She glanced at the open window, the morning sunlight streaming in. She put on a robe and got out of bed. Standing by the window, she saw that the peonies she had planted were in full bloom.
She loved gardening. Seeing the peonies blooming, she immediately went outside to admire them.
With her cultivation level, she could easily use spiritual energy to accelerate the growth of plants, making them bloom and bear fruit within half a day. But she hadn’t done so.
Because that would defeat the purpose of gardening.
She and Meng Zhen had plenty of time, there was no rush. Everything could be done slowly.
“Ribbit, you’re so pretty, ribbit.”
Qiao Shuang, who was admiring the peonies, suddenly felt something soft bumping against her leg. She looked down and saw a small, round frog staring at her with its black eyes.
“Little one, where did you come from?” She picked up the frog.
Little Frog stretched out its tiny arms and patted her palm. “I’m your baby, ribbit.”
“Baby?” Qiao Shuang didn’t remember having a child.
And even if she did, it wouldn’t be a frog.
A voice came from behind her. “Didn’t you say it was too lonely here? I brought it to keep you company.”
Little Frog nodded vigorously, croaking that it was hungry.
Qiao Shuang looked at Meng Zhen, then at the little frog, its mouth open, waiting to be fed. She couldn’t help but smile.
“It does feel more lively now.”
Outsiders weren’t welcome here, but a cute little spirit pet like Little Frog was perfect.
Meng Zhen and Qiao Shuang had already reached a stage where they didn’t need to eat. There was barely any edible food in the valley. However, seeing Little Frog squirming pitifully and saying it was hungry, Qiao Shuang couldn’t bear to let it starve.
She asked Meng Zhen to roast a small bird. After it was cooked, Meng Zhen carefully tore off small pieces of meat and fed them to Little Frog.
Little Frog ate messily, its belly round and its body swaying.
Qiao Shuang wiped its mouth with a handkerchief, wrinkling her nose. “You’re so messy.”
Little Frog pouted. “Mommy, don’t you like me, ribbit?”
Seeing that it was about to cry, Qiao Shuang quickly said, “I like you, I like you.”
“Mommy, I like you too, ribbit!” Little Frog hugged Qiao Shuang’s finger and gave it two kisses.
Qiao Shuang turned to Meng Zhen. “A’Zhen, thank you.”
Meng Zhen poked Little Frog’s round belly. “There’s no need for thanks between us. And I like it too.”
Little Frog, forced to roll over, croaked, “I like Zhen Zhen Mommy too, ribbit.”
With the addition of Little Frog, their lives became more lively. It was like their child, always cheerful and playful, but also surprisingly well-behaved at times.
Another spring arrived. Qiao Shuang was playing the guqin under a tree, while Meng Zhen sipped plum wine.
A small frog was soaking in a wine cup, its face flushed, occasionally blowing bubbles with a hint of alcohol.
It seemed like these peaceful days could last forever, but it was just an illusion.
Without immortality, there was no eternity.
Countless people embarked on the path of cultivation, seeking longevity, but immortality was elusive.
To mortals, cultivators’ lifespans seemed long, and they would be content with living for a few hundred or a thousand years. But once you became a cultivator, you would realize that even a cultivator’s life was fleeting.
One closed-door cultivation session, and decades would pass in the blink of an eye. Spending hundreds of years without making any progress was common.
Having witnessed the cycle of life and death in the mortal world, how could they bear to die of old age?
The difference between a cultivator and an immortal was like the difference between a mortal and a cultivator. Meng Zhen wanted to live forever, she was unwilling to die.
She could clearly sense that her cultivation had reached its limit. She couldn’t go any further.
Ascending to immortality seemed like an insurmountable obstacle, no matter how hard she tried.
But there was one way for her to reach for immortality: abandon her current path of swordsmanship and cultivate the Path of Heartlessness.
To gain something, you had to pay a price. Meng Zhen didn’t know what the price would be yet, or rather, she had a vague feeling, but she chose to ignore it.
The Path of Heartlessness. The name itself spoke volumes.
Meng Zhen had always been ambitious. Once she decided to do something, she wouldn’t turn back. Just like when she had entered the Northern Sea, knowing it was a dangerous gamble. And she had won that gamble.
She would gamble again, and she believed she would win again.
If she succeeded, she would become immortal, living forever. If she failed, she would die under the Heavenly Tribulation.
Even if she was qualified to take the next step, there was still a risk of death. Before ascending, cultivators had to face a deadly trial.
Staying complacent meant certain death. Taking a gamble might lead to immortality.
On the eve of her tribulation, Qiao Shuang, sensing something, said to Meng Zhen, “A’Zhen, after you ascend, you’ll have a long life ahead of you. If I die, take good care of Little Frog.”
Meng Zhen felt a lump in her throat, unable to speak. Her words were stuck, and she could only manage a weak “mm-hmm.”
The sky darkened, thick black clouds gathering, forming a giant vortex.
Lightning flashed within the vortex, the rumbling growing louder. A bolt of lightning as thick as a water snake struck Meng Zhen.
Inside the small bamboo hut, protected by a barrier, Little Frog was sleeping soundly, oblivious to the storm outside. To it, this day was no different from any other day.
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The Soul-Extinguishing Dagger pierced Qiao Shuang’s chest, her blood splattering on Meng Zhen’s face. A drop landed on the corner of her eye, a crimson tear slowly sliding down her cheek.
“A’… Zhen…” Qiao Shuang called out Meng Zhen’s name one last time. Perhaps she had more to say, but she died before she could finish.
Meng Zhen gazed at Qiao Shuang’s pale face, her arms finally wrapping around her.
The lightning subsided, but the dark clouds still lingered in the sky. A raindrop fell, followed by countless others.
The rain poured down, washing away all traces.
It rained for an entire day and night. Little Frog woke up in the evening and hopped to the window, but the rain was too heavy, the mist obscuring the view.
It wondered why its mommies hadn’t returned yet. It was waiting anxiously.
After several days, Little Frog, who had been flattened into a pancake by the window, finally saw Meng Zhen.
“Zhen Zhen Mommy!” It could speak clearly now, no longer calling her “Mama.”
Meng Zhen seemed different. Little Frog didn’t understand why, but she seemed scary. It shrank back, trying to make itself invisible.
From that day forward, Little Frog started calling her “Master.” Meng Zhen had given it power. Although it wouldn’t starve and was strong, it wasn’t as happy as before.
It wanted to ask where Shuang Shuang Mommy was, but seeing Meng Zhen’s face, it didn’t dare to ask.
Meng Zhen continued to live in the valley. It was filled with memories of their time together. No matter where she went, Qiao Shuang’s image would appear in her mind.
She leaned against the crabapple tree. The wind rustled the leaves, casting flickering shadows on her face.
A bird chirped, and Meng Zhen drifted off to sleep.
She hadn’t dreamt in a long time. In her dream, she was back in the early days of their life in the valley.
Qiao Shuang was playing the guqin, she was making tea, the air filled with the fragrance of flowers and tea. The days passed peacefully, their simplicity bringing joy.
She wished the dream could last longer, forever if possible.
But she woke up. It was winter now, the crabapple blossoms long gone, even the last few withered leaves had been swept away by the wind.
The midday sun shone directly on her face. It looked bright and warm, but Meng Zhen felt cold.
How long could a dream last?
No matter how long, as long as you were alive, the dream would eventually end.
Meng Zhen knew that the only person she truly loved was herself. She loved Qiao Shuang, but Qiao Shuang would always come after everything else.
But why did she feel so sad? Her heart ached, as if a part of it was missing.
She wanted Qiao Shuang back. There was an ancient secret technique: If you gathered one hundred Pure Souls, you could summon the soul of the deceased.
Qiao Shuang was a cultivator, so these one hundred Pure Souls also needed to have a certain level of cultivation. Otherwise, the energy wouldn’t be enough to summon her soul.
This technique had been passed down for generations, but no one had ever succeeded. It was more like a false hope for the living, a delusion that the deceased could return.
Meng Zhen traveled to an incomplete world, searching for the hundredth sacrifice, Zuo Bian.
Actually, after gathering the sixty-fifth Pure Soul, she had already realized that this technique would never work. But she continued anyway.
If she didn’t, she wouldn’t even have a reason to live.
Zuo Bian had said to her, “Master, everyone wants to achieve immortality, to live forever. But what’s the point of living forever if you have no one by your side?”
Indeed, what was the point? There was no point.
In the illusion she had created, Zuo Bian had faced the same choice as her. Zuo Bian had chosen to push away her loved one, even though she knew it meant certain death.
She would never be like Zuo Bian. Her ambition was too great, her ego too inflated. She had thought she was invincible, but in the end, she had only hurt herself.
An immortal, undying and indestructible, could still be obliterated by the Heavenly Dao.
This time, she fell into an eternal slumber, a sleep from which she would—
—never wake up.
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