Chapter 44: Disappearance

For three months, Ye Minwei’s investigation had made little progress, but overnight, everything suddenly accelerated, and she found herself confronting the truth. It was both expected and utterly unforeseen.

In the bright morning light, Ye Minwei and Cang Shu sat inside a tent within the refugee camp. Outside, the displaced people bustled in and out, chattering about the porridge to be distributed at noon, chopping wood, and lighting fires. The noisy commotion sounded unreal to her ears. Faintly, the wails she had heard the previous night echoed in her mind—sometimes near, sometimes distant.

Cang Shu sat cross-legged on a bench, solemnly stating that the missing refugees from Chongdan Mountain likely perished in the human-refining pit he had witnessed the night before. He added that the identity of the Prince of Laiyang was of high rank, and this matter ran deep, involving not only spirit bandits but also the imperial court. Given Ye Minwei’s sensitive position and her lack of a spiritual artifact at the moment, making a rash appearance would only complicate matters. It would be better to write a letter and let the Immortal Sect handle it.

Ye Minwei watched Cang Shu’s lips move without speaking, silent for a long while before finally asking, “Aren’t you surprised?”

Cang Shu paused, his eyes widening slightly as he pondered, then said, “Surprised? You mean about them refining azure crystals from humans?”

Ye Minwei nodded.

“It’s possible that’s how I’ve been refining azure crystals too,” he said with a sudden look of realization, though without any heaviness. “So you suspect you might be a murderer. You’re afraid of scaring me!”

After a moment, he smiled faintly, speaking as if this were nothing unusual. “It may sound strange, but throughout my life, I’ve dealt with greed the most. Murderers are the ones I’ve seen the most. Human hearts are the darkest. Once greed rises, even millions may die without stopping it. But in my view, the Master of Myriad Phenomena is not that kind of person.”

“Why?”

Cang Shu raised his hand and gestured in front of his face. “I am quite skilled at physiognomy. Your forehead is full, your jaw rounded, your eyes like the sun and moon, and your nose is prominent—these are signs of kindness and wisdom, with no hint of cruelty.”

Though the words sounded somewhat insincere, his tone was resolute.

Ye Minwei looked puzzled. Her eyes reddened, black hair cascading down her sides. She no longer resembled the wise person who had once seen the abyssal fish and aged prematurely. Now, with her youthful black hair, she seemed to have returned to her adolescent days, recklessly crashing through the world, unsteady and stumbling.

Cang Shu sighed, “So this is why you left Miss Xie and the Dreamscape Master.”

“For what reason?”

“Because of guilt.”

“Guilt?”

Cang Shu tapped his chest meaningfully. “Guilt born of love—that is human nature.”

“You will understand in time.”

The refugee camp was at its most peaceful after the midday meal. Everyone was grateful to the Prince of Laiyang’s mansion, praising their benefactor without knowing that the very noble they extolled was the one responsible for their displacement. It is human nature to take from the needy and give to the favored; often the greatest criminals disguise themselves as benefactors.

Of course, there was another culprit hidden within this camp—the true origin of all chaos. And that culprit knelt quietly on the ground, writing and drawing. Judging by her demeanor, she neither wished to remain uninvolved nor to hand everything over entirely to the Immortal Sect.

Two little heads peeked outside her tent. A Yan and A Xi silently pressed against the tent flap, watching Yun Chuan scribble all over the ground with strange marks that looked like meaningless scrawls.

A Yan had come early because he had seen Yun Chuan crying bitterly at dawn, so much so that he thought he must still be dreaming.

Lowering his head anxiously, A Yan asked A Xi, “Why was Sister Yun Chuan crying so badly this morning?”

Though he had known Yun Chuan only briefly, he understood she was a strangely carefree person who seemed to believe nothing was impossible. She would casually say she’d find a way, as if it were nothing. What kind of trouble could make her cry with tears streaming down her face?

The little wildling A Xi, of course, did not answer. She just blinked innocently and giggled. Since recovering from her illness and putting on new cotton clothes, her face had grown rounder, flushed red like a little red apple.

A Yan looked at her and felt proud that his little sister had grown plump. He pinched her cheek.

“What are you two looking at?”

The sudden voice startled A Yan. He looked up to see Cang Shu, chewing on a freshly baked flatbread and peering inside the tent like them.

A Yan had argued with Cang Shu and Yun Chuan just yesterday and now felt awkward seeing him again. He stammered, “I… I just…”

But worry overcame awkwardness, and A Yan whispered to Cang Shu, “Why was Sister Yun Chuan crying this morning? Is it because you… are seriously ill and going to die?”

“…”

Cang Shu smiled warmly. “Don’t curse me. I’m a bit fragile, but not to the point of dying now.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Cang Shu tapped his chest and said, “She’s grown something here.”

A Yan panicked. “Grown… a tumor?”

“No, she’s grown a heart.”

A Yan swallowed his fear.

Cang Shu waved his white-wrapped hand solemnly. “Growing a heart is like when you lose your baby teeth and new ones grow in—it’s painful to grow something new from flesh and blood.”

He spoke seriously but said nonsense.

“I’m not a three-year-old child. Don’t try to fool me. Who would not have a heart and need to grow one? Besides, growing teeth isn’t painful—only rotten teeth hurt,” A Yan scoffed.

“Yes, yes. This heart will cause more pain once it grows. Flesh this soft is easily wounded by touch. The so-called mortal world is like being pierced by countless blades, heart-wrenching and blood-soaked,” Cang Shu began to pick his words carefully.

A Yan didn’t understand and just thought Cang Shu was rambling nonsense, never saying anything serious.

Cang Shu smiled and looked at A Yan for a moment, then at A Xi beside him, casually saying, “So, are you still angry? If you’re done being mad, we can make up, can’t we?”

His words struck A Yan’s heart. Though small, he had a proud spirit that was tender inside. Since losing his parents, he had no one. Apart from A Xi, Cang Shu and Yun Chuan were the closest people to him in the camp.

When angry, he wanted to sever ties with them, but after sleeping on it, regret always followed.

Clearing his throat, A Yan said, “Okay, then about what you said earlier about A Xi’s voice…”

He stopped mid-sentence as the azure crystal clutched in Yun Chuan’s palm suddenly flashed a streak of lightning-blue light, then quickly faded. She stared thoughtfully at the glow before bending down to write and draw again.

A Yan forgot what he was about to say. His face turned pale and his body stiffened.

Suddenly, countless chaotic images flashed before his eyes—nightmarish and relentless. The fire blazing in his home at night; the deafening wails and cries amid the flames; his parents struggling desperately; shadowy figures of the unknown murderer; a strange, piercing blue light cutting through the darkness in the killer’s hand.

After the cold blue light flowed a pool of blood and bodies collapsed within it.

Limbs limp, eyes wide and lifeless.

His father, his mother.

And his sister.

The blue light opened its gaping maw, devouring everything he loved, leaving him alone in the world.

“Wh-why does this stone emit blue light? Yun Chuan… who is Yun Chuan?”

A Yan’s voice trembled. He pointed at Ye Minwei and looked at Cang Shu in disbelief. His fingers turned red from the cold, his eyes first shocked and then burning with overwhelming betrayal and rage.

Suddenly, he lunged forward, grabbing Cang Shu’s sleeve, shaking him fiercely, and demanding in a harsh voice, “Tell me! Who exactly are you?”

A Xi made confused, happy babbling sounds, laughing joyfully.

Cang Shu raised his arms and rolled his eyes. “Well… that’s a long story…”

Before he could spin any lies, a cold, stern voice rang out at the tent entrance: “Meng Jiu, come here.”

Cang Shu and A Yan turned to see a man in black robes holding the hand of a small boy, flanked by two or three dozen palace guards from the Prince’s mansion, standing before their tent like a dark cloud pressing down.

This man in black was the Nightmare Master Wei Jing.

Wei Jing’s arrival caused a stir in the refugee camp. People rushed to surround the small tent tightly, making it impossible to pass through. Cang Shu glanced at the piece of cloth Wei Jing held—it was a fragment torn from his own sleeve during a struggle with Ye Minwei the previous night, probably dropped on the stone path.

The trouble was that this clothing had just been issued in the refugee camp, so palace guards in the underground palace likely recognized it.

Wei Jing did not look at Cang Shu but fixed his gaze on A Xi. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth drooped downward, his tone cold and threatening. “Meng Jiu, don’t make me take action.”

A Xi quickly hid behind A Yan, clutching his clothes like a wary cat. The usually cheerful little girl was now serious-faced.

A Yan instinctively shielded A Xi. “Mr. Wei, this is… this is my little sister!”

“Little sister?” Wei Jing looked A Yan up and down, as if recalling who he was. “Your entire family except you was killed. Where did this little sister come from?”

A Yan turned pale, standing frozen like a statue.

“This girl is my adopted daughter,” Wei Jing said coldly, waving his sleeve.

The gathered refugees murmured in surprise and confusion, whispering about who A Xi really was and what this meant.

“I… I…” Amid the murmurs, A Yan was at a loss, weakly repeating, “A Xi… A Xi is my little sister!”

His voice was odd with nervousness, as if he knew no words but to insist on this one truth.

A Yan thought: A Xi is his sister, the sister he found. Though not of his blood, she is still his sister.

Before A Xi, he had another sister.

His sister who ran out of their hiding closet was also killed by the spirit bandits.

He had failed to hold her, failed to protect her.

He had failed to hold anyone. He was the one fate overlooked, yet burdened with its cruelest blows. Everyone he loved and cared for had vanished: his father, mother, sister, uncle, aunt, and all his village friends.