Chapter 38: Failure

Amidst the bitter, howling wind, Ye Minwei’s gaze flickered, though she seemed only more lost than before.

The Phoenix Command flew with blistering speed, darting like lightning over mountains, forests, and continents until the landscape beneath them transformed into a vast, boundless ocean. The sea was exceptionally calm, its surface rippling with tiny waves that shimmered under the moonlight.

Ye Minwei and Wen Ci hovered above the deep sea, surrounded by an endless, inky darkness. The volcanic ash and embers that had enveloped Ye Minwei poured downward. Amidst the chaotic jingling of bells, Wen Ci released the scorching magma and ash he had drawn into his nightmares, merging them with the molten lava brought by the Phoenix Command and flooding them into the sea.

Instantly, massive plumes of steam erupted from the ocean, rising to the heavens as if the entire sea were being boiled. Lava and ash, carrying a pungent, stinging odor, poured into the water, shrouding the world in a vast expanse of white vapor.

The Swallowing Fish Ring continued to draw magma incessantly from Mount Chongdan, and thus, a constant stream of new lava and ash flowed from Ye Minwei, pouring into the ocean without pause. Wen Ci soon withdrew his hand, having emptied the contents of over thirty nightmares. After returning the borrowed nightmares one by one, a hint of exhaustion finally appeared on his face. He closed his eyes halfway, leaning lazily against Ye Minwei’s shoulder.

Ye Minwei merely stared intently at the sea. Her massive, flaming wings illuminated the world, making her eyes glow with an intense, burning light. The steam brushed against her face, vanishing quickly under the heat of her scorching wings.

Time passed in a blur. As the horizon began to show the first faint traces of dawn, the torrent of lava and ash finally ceased, and no more emerged.

Ye Minwei asked softly, “Has the volcano stopped?”

The sea was blanketed in white vapor, and the sound of turbulent churning could still be heard. As the mist dispersed slightly, a new island appeared in the sea.

It was charred black and devoid of life, perhaps still searingly hot. But in a few decades, it would likely be covered in lush flowers, trees, and greenery, just like the other islands in the vicinity.

In the dim morning light, Ye Minwei looked down at Wen Ci and asked, “Did I succeed? Did I save them?”

Her eyes shimmered with a light that Wen Ci rarely saw—stubborn, joyful, yet filled with bewilderment.

Wen Ci nodded, laughing lazily. “What? Are you waiting for me to praise you?”

Ye Minwei pursed her lips, watching him in silence.

Under her steady gaze, Wen Ci grew somewhat unnatural. Finally, he turned his head, cleared his throat, and said, “Didn’t I already say it? Well done. That’s our Ye Minwei for you.”

At that, the corners of Ye Minwei’s mouth curled up slightly. Joy eclipsed her confusion, surfacing in her eyes.

On the brightening sea, her massive, burning wings let out a deafening screech as they flapped, turning and departing like the wind. In the sea, where the waves were gradually calming, the charred, newborn island stood quietly, surrounded by lingering mist.

Her radiant wings turned away from the rising sun, scattering sparks as they flew deep into the darkness.

The wind was frigid. Ye Minwei finally let go of her tightly coiled heartstrings, and a strange sensation filled her chest. She had not saved these people because she had promised Song Jiao; she had promised Song Jiao because she wanted to save them.

She had always been at peace with death, but this was the first time in her life she had felt the desire to struggle against it. Even though death was nothing to fear, she did not want to surrender this town and these people to it—much like the obsession of Grandmother Sun, who was always dozing in her recliner, held for her daughter.

She did not want to be on this side of the world while unable to see them. She did not want high walls erected between them, keeping them apart.

She did not understand the meaning of this hope, but strangely, it made her happy. Her breathing, which had been constricted ever since she heard Zhen Yuanqi’s words, began to ease.

Yet, at this moment, the joyful Ye Minwei did not understand that most first attempts in life end in tragic failure.

Even the Sect of All Phenomena could not be spared.

An hour later, having passed through layers of white clouds, they caught sight of Mount Chongdan.

What met their eyes was a vast expanse of scorched earth.

The air was filled with suffocating dust, like dark clouds fallen to earth. Ningyu had been completely buried. Magma and ash had destroyed every tree, house, street, and pavilion. Everywhere one looked, there was only gray-black soot and solidified lava, baking in the heat like a hell on earth.

The burning wings of the Phoenix Command drooped, as if they, too, were as shocked and helpless as their master, shielding Ye Minwei and Wen Ci only from the searing heat and ash.

Above the silent ruins, Ye Minwei and Wen Ci were the only living things left.

Wen Ci was stunned into silence. He opened his eyes wide, looking at the devastation. After a moment of dazed shock, he immediately reached out to summon the death-dreams.

In the final moments before the sky grew fully bright, the lingering dreams of all those buried beneath the scorched earth rose suddenly, converging toward Wen Ci.

Those death-dreams were like wisps of white smoke, or white feathers in a black storm, swirling around Wen Ci and Ye Minwei amidst the gray-black dust—there were over a hundred of them.

Wen Ci flicked his index finger, and a wisp of a death-dream flew out, winding around his finger adorned with a gold ring, casting a blurry image into the air.

In this hazy scene, they saw someone they recognized.

It was Song Jiao.

A "death-dream" is a fragment of the memories of a life that flashes through the mind of the dying in their final moments. Wen Ci had received Song Jiao’s death-dream, which meant that the youth who had just been full of life, wiping away tears as he begged them for help, was now in the underworld.

Song Jiao had been stabbed in the back by a dagger, falling to his death without any defense. In the skewed image, he saw only a pair of ordinary black night-boots. The assailant grabbed the Swallowing Fish Ring and left; he did not even see the face of his killer.

By then, the roaring of the volcano had faded, and the remaining lava, having lost its entrance, flowed down the mountain in a bright, crimson stream. In the image, Song Jiao’s arms struggled incessantly, his fingers clawing into the dirt as if trying to find the strength to stand up again.

He watched helplessly as the magma flowed into Ningyu, igniting billowing smoke, the scent of burning and sulfur overwhelming everything.

His arms gradually lost their strength, and then he wept.

He did not know why he was crying; tears blurred his vision. In his consciousness, he saw the people he had met before going up the mountain who had not yet managed to leave, his elderly, helpless grandmother, Wen Ci and Ye Minwei, and a white deer as beautiful and untouchable as a misty phantom.

“Run… run away…” he whispered.

“Grandmother… Grandmother…”

“Must… return the spiritual artifact to the immortals…”

He muttered incoherently.

Before his eyes appeared the crops he had grown through all four seasons, the girl from the apothecary he had met in town, and the sweet cakes he loved to eat as a child. All the images were chaotic and disorderly, eventually fading into a void. Deep within that void appeared his parents. Their faces bore no trace of the years, looking exactly as young as he remembered when he looked up at them as a child, smiling as they reached out to him.

They said they missed him.

Song Jiao’s fingers, which had been clawing the earth, gradually loosened. Like any young boy seeing his parents after a long separation, he murmured, “Dad… Mom…”

The image dimmed.

This brief death-dream ended there.

Wen Ci’s fists tightened, his blood surging and reddening his eyes. He gritted his teeth until they creaked. In this desolate place, there was only undulating scorched earth, endless ruin, and silence; neither the dead nor the culprit could be seen.

“Who… which animal killed Song Jiao!” Wen Ci said, each word enunciated clearly.

“It’s a volcano! Are you that obsessed with spiritual artifacts!? Is the Swallowing Fish Technique some kind of medicine to save your own pathetic life? You’ve cast aside your conscience and your humanity just to let hundreds of people die!? You subhuman beast, I will tear you to pieces!”

The bells jingled chaotically, and the death-dreams filling the sky trembled, finally fading away with the coming of dawn, leaving only Wen Ci’s roar echoing over the scorched earth.

Ye Minwei looked up at the gray sky after the death-dreams had vanished. Hot steam rose from the ground. Mount Chongdan had quieted, standing silently in the dim, pre-dawn light, its silhouette twisted by the heat waves.

The ash beneath her feet was supposed to have been the stone-paved road in Ningyu, lined with shops. The Golden God Festival floats would have passed through here; at that time, the windows of the two-story buildings on both sides would have been wide open, people leaning out to wave at the floats, everyone wishing each other well, with golden blessing flowers fluttering in the sky.

She had thought all the houses and streets would remain unharmed, that when the sun rose, it would be as if nothing had happened.

She did not know she could work so hard for a single task. She could have done it.

She had been so close.

Why was the result like this?

Morning light pierced the hazy air, making the sky grow gloomily bright. A group of people began to gather on the desolate, charred land where only Ye Minwei and Wen Ci stood.

Wen Ci looked up at the cultivators from various sects approaching them, paused for a moment, and then burst into a wild laugh. He laughed until he doubled over, his passion as intense as if it were not his companion’s wings being burned, but himself.

He said, “At a time like this, you still haven’t forgotten about catching Ye Minwei? Was it you? Was it you who killed Song Jiao and stole the Swallowing Fish Ring!?”

Zhen Yuanqi looked at Wen Ci with a heavy expression. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“We used the Swallowing Fish Ring and the Phoenix Command to divert the magma and ash to the sea. Was it you who killed someone to steal the Swallowing Fish Ring, causing the magma to flood the town, destroy homes, and take lives?” Wen Ci’s eyes were bloodshot, and he asked through gritted teeth.

As soon as these words were spoken, the surrounding cultivators began to murmur amongst themselves. They seemed shocked, unaware of the matter. Someone shouted, “Don’t you dare slander us! We were busy saving people until the magma invaded! It was clearly you two who had ulterior motives, intentionally giving the wrong time to cause casualties, and even abducting the commoners!”

Amidst their angry shouts and encirclement, Ye Minwei slowly raised her head. The blood on her face had dried, her eyes were dry and bloodshot, her white hair was scorched by the fire and heat, and her massive, flaming wings hung silently behind her.

Perhaps due to the overexertion of her calculations throughout the night, or perhaps for some other reason, her mind had never been so exhausted. Her gray-black eyes were filled with confusion, as if she could not understand anything that was happening.

Ye Minwei looked around at the cultivators surrounding her and Wen Ci. “Why?”

She did not know who she was asking, nor did she know what she was asking.

Zhen Yuanqi stared at Ye Minwei and answered her question: “Are you asking why someone would steal the spiritual artifact, why this place has turned to scorched earth, and why so many people have lost their lives here? You ask because of whom? Because of what? Ye Minwei, this is all because of you! Because of the spiritual artifact you created!”