Chapter 101: Spirit Soul Enters the Body, Losing Oneself

In the treasure vault, two figures sat cross-legged with their eyes half-closed. One man, whose body emanated a red glow, rested his palm upon the chest of the other, a man with purple hair. Both wore expressions of grave solemnity, their clothes already damp with sweat. The light that enveloped them flickered with an unstable frequency, as if warning that they too were on the brink of peril, life as fleeting and uncertain as that radiance itself.

From their posture, it appeared they were channeling something to each other, though the process was far from smooth. Any lapse could send them both treading the yellow spring path and falling into the Bridge of Hell. As the eye wandered to the vault’s corners, several figures stood there, all tense and anxious, their gazes fixed on the center as if desperate to rush forward and aid the pair. Yet they possessed no such power and could only wrinkle their brows, watching uneasily from the shadows.

Suddenly, the two men in the vault’s heart opened their eyes simultaneously. Two razor-sharp gazes swept outward, sending a chill through the onlookers and leaving them feeling profoundly ill at ease. But at that instant, a powerful surge erupted from the purple-haired man’s body, slamming the red-glowing figure hard into the wall before he crashed to the ground, groaning in agony.

The purple-haired man rose unsteadily and began to thrash wildly with the blade in his hand, as though utterly controlled by an unseen force. He seemed desperate to break free yet was powerless against it, compelled to dance and strike with no will of his own. In a short span the entire vault descended into chaos, yet he showed no sign of halting, still swinging the blade in blind frenzy. The crowd realized they could not continue like this and tried to close in and restrain him. Before they reached him, however, the waves of force struck them down. All collapsed where they stood, battered and bruised, unwilling to advance again. The purple-haired man cast them a cold glance and turned away.

The survivors were both pained and astonished. Was this the spirit soul’s doing? It possessed such terrifying might that even stray aftershocks could wound them. If they had faced the man directly, their fates would have been grim indeed. Why had Yushang suddenly lost control, as though a stranger had taken his place? His eyes burned with murderous intent and chilling detachment, as if he harbored hatred for the entire world or wished to see it destroyed.

While the others stood frozen in shock, the purple-haired man suddenly lifted the blade and struck at them. They recovered their wits and scattered, unwilling to meet him head-on. Even evasion was difficult, for his cultivation had soared far beyond theirs. Unhappily, Meng You Yuan found herself in his grasp; the blade hovered inches from her throat.

At that moment, the old dean who had been quietly observing the turmoil finally spoke, his voice steady and sorrowful: “Yushang, do you truly wish only to be a puppet and lose yourself? Child, there is much you must still do. You cannot live like a walking corpse, drifting through existence without purpose!” He watched the purple-haired man intently, curious about his reaction.

The man heard the words and stopped the descending blade just above Meng You Yuan’s head. He turned, gazing at the old dean with a complex expression, as though some fragment of sanity remained. Just as hope kindled in the crowd, however, Yushang’s gaze grew colder still. He raised the blade once more and struck toward the unarmed Meng You Yuan.

Lan Bing Xuan could endure no longer. Drawing his treasure sword, he lunged at the unfamiliar, once-beloved Yushang. The others followed, drawing their divine artifacts and charging forward. Even the frail Xiao Yin unsheathed his weapon. Yet before they took a second step, the old dean struck them back with a palm of true energy, then sent another palm flashing with blinding light straight toward Yushang.

The collision of light and force erupted with overwhelming power, shaking the entire vault. Both Yushang and the old dean staggered back, spitting blood and clutching their wounds. The crimson drops stained the ground like fallen snow lotuses—beautiful yet heartbreaking. Fortunately, Meng You Yuan survived.

As the crazed Yushang raised his blade for another assault, the old dean struck again without mercy. Yushang stood motionless, offering no defense, and met the blow with his own body. No more strength remained in him; blood poured from his mouth and splattered across the blade. Soaked in crimson, the weapon seemed desolate yet suddenly glowed with renewed splendor, as though reborn.

The blade broke free from Yushang’s grip on its own, rising slowly into the air amid its own radiant aura. From the stone beads clutched in the jaws of the nine statues, golden light shot forth, striking the blade directly. From the stone jaws themselves, something like mysterious iron drifted forth, drawn along the golden threads into the blade’s core. The moment it entered, the weapon spun rapidly of its own accord, turning the vault into a dizzying whirlpool. Everyone felt sick and disoriented, as though one careless step would send them crashing to the floor.

After a long while the spinning slowed. A brilliant light shone upon Yushang’s body. Xiao Yin, who had been watching from the side, leapt to his feet, fearing the blade would harm his master. Yet Yushang’s complexion gradually flushed with color, and the murderous light in his eyes faded. Only then did Xiao Yin relax and continue watching.

Under the blade’s radiance, Yushang’s wounds healed. His injuries were no longer severe, and his eyes returned to their former gentle warmth. As he rose to his feet, the blade drifted down and settled once more in his grasp. Yet he stared around him in bewilderment.

“What happened just now? Why do you all look like this?” he asked, gazing at the wounded faces and the ruined vault. His brows furrowed in confusion. He felt as though he had just awakened from a dream, his thoughts tangled like a ball of yarn.

“You have the audacity to ask what happened to us?” Yin Bo Xuan shouted furiously. “We should be the ones demanding answers! You nearly killed Yuan Yuan in your madness! If not for Master’s timely intervention, she would be dead now. Don’t expect me to show you any brotherly mercy if you ever do that again.”

“I almost killed Yuan Yuan?” Yushang looked at Xiao Yin for confirmation and received a helpless nod. Pain etched his face as he clutched his head and murmured, “How is that possible? How could I want to kill her? No… no…” Though he kept denying it, he knew the others were telling the truth and yet could not accept the truth.

“Brother Yu, calm yourself,” Meng You Yuan said, stepping forward to take his hand. “I am unharmed. I know it was not you. You were forced, driven by something beyond your control.” Even if he had truly struck her, she would not resent him, for she saw the man she loved beneath the mask.

“Had your mind been clear, you would never have done such a thing,” Lan Bing Xuan said calmly. “But when your thoughts were disordered and other forces intruded, anything could happen. Brother Yu, do you still remember why you lost control?”

“I do remember,” Yushang replied, forcing the words out despite the discomfort. “When Xiao Yin first implanted the spirit soul, a powerful current erupted from my dantian. Those two forces clashed violently within me, leaving my body in agony. Then a warm current appeared, easing the pain for a moment—only for it to grow hotter still until my entire body burned like fire.”

“Only discomfort?” Leng Huai Yi asked, startled. He had witnessed Yushang’s brutal side before, but never imagined he would turn his blade on Meng You Yuan. The question burned in his mind: what had caused such a sudden change?

“Those three forces grew stronger and stronger inside me,” Yushang continued. “They fought one another without mercy, tearing at my thoughts. I felt myself slipping into a deep sleep, and after that… I remember nothing.” He spoke as though he could not believe it himself. How could someone who knew nothing have harmed those closest to him?

“In other words, your memories of the moment of loss are blank,” Yu Xiao Ran said thoughtfully, examining Yushang and the blade with new curiosity. “Only when the blade manifested its power did it wake you.”

“You mean the blade’s power woke me?” Yushang stared in amazement. “No wonder I felt a clear stream flowing through every part of my body, calming those warring forces. Thanks to it I regained my will and woke up to this confusion.” He sounded both grateful and bewildered. The blade had saved him once more.

“You little rascal,” Xiao Yin said with a frown, sizing up his master. “From what you say, that blade can actually control my spirit soul and the qi in your dantian. Who would have guessed?” The snake’s eyes gleamed with mischief, already plotting new schemes.