'Awooo~'
In an instant, rows of blood corpses charged like ravenous beasts.
"Xiao Yin! Guard me!"
Chen Jinshu lightly tapped the spirit beast pouch at her waist. In response, Xiao Yin burst forth as a streak of brilliant blue light.
The massive shadow of the blue bird darkened the ground as it spread its wings. With a sharp cry, its feathers turned into blades, shooting out toward the incoming horde of blood corpses from all directions. Each feather pierced a corpse's heart with deadly precision, sending it tumbling to the ground.
Chen Jinshu swiftly plucked her zither strings. These blood corpses had no sensory perception—defeating them would require forming shapes from sonic waves.
"Fourth Form: Spring's Echo in the Empty Valley!"
Her left hand trembled the strings in nine pulses while her right hand hovered, mimicking a sweeping motion. Waves of green soundblades surged outward like ocean spray. Where the sound swept past, vegetation and vines erupted, binding the blood corpses and slamming them to the ground.
Behind her, several Azure Luan birds carried radiant green medicinal herbs in their beaks. As they passed overhead, light raindrops fell. Flowers and grass bloomed on the previously barren land.
The blood corpses stumbled—either ensnared by vines summoned by her melody or struck down by vegetation springing from the rejuvenated earth. Within moments, the area was strewn with bound corpses and fallen enemies, courtesy of Xiao Yin's lethal precision.
"Well done, Xiao Yin!"
Chen Jinshu tossed a second-grade Rejuvenation Pill to the bird and took one herself.
This Fourth Form of the Nineteen Melodies of Falling Sound had taken her three months to master, consuming all the Enlightenment Tea gifted by her master.
Fortunately, her perseverance paid off—this technique of vitality harmonized well with her cultivation method. Its spiritual cost was also half that of the third form. In a flash, the blood corpses dissolved into red light particles and vanished into the air. The vegetation and vines faded from the ground as if they had never existed.
"Did I pass the trial?"
Chen Jinshu looked around, hoping for the Spirit of the Boundary Monument to announce her success. But after a long wait, only a tremor-like rumbling echoed from the White Bone Mountain ahead.
A flood of blue spectral phantoms descended from the mountain, rushing toward her.
Instinctively, Chen Jinshu stepped back.
"So the blood corpses were only a test. These phantoms… are the true trial."
She rested her hands on the zither strings, already formulating her strategy. These phantoms were likely the lingering spirits of cultivators slain within this secret realm, unable to reincarnate due to unresolved regrets.
Though heavy with resentment, they were still just echoes of the dead. And no spirit, alive or departed, could escape the weight of their past—especially the souls of the dead, who must yearn deeply for loved ones or former lives.
If she could help them remember who they once were… perhaps that would ease their pain.
Among her limited repertoire, only the piece Butterfly Dream of Zhuangzi carried such emotional resonance—though she'd have to play it with a more sorrowful touch.
Meanwhile, Du Yi had arrived at a vast sea. He stood upon a tiny island, barely a few dozen feet wide. His lips were pale. He feared the sea. As a child, he once strayed too close to the coast and was nearly swept away in a tsunami. The trauma rooted itself in his heart. Even after stepping into the cultivation world and witnessing countless wonders, that childhood fear remained like a shadow.
"Yi'er," his master's voice echoed in his ears, "If you do not confront what lies hidden in your heart, it will hinder your progress once you reach a bottleneck."
Only now did Du Yi truly understand those words. He stood, staring out at the sea.
—
Elsewhere, Jiang Daoyu arrived on a battlefield. Armies clashed all around him. Warhorns blared. Shouts pierced his ears like needles.
He stood frozen.
He came from a mortal kingdom and had survived countless wars—yet the grief of watching loved ones die had etched itself deep into his soul. When a celestial sect offered him a chance to escape, he seized it, determined to flee the mortal realm's chaos.
Though he had cultivated endlessly and climbed ever forward, he never truly understood what he sought—his dreams clouded by war's lingering shadow. He once believed he was simply weak at heart. Only after finding a master did he realize—he didn't hate war. He hated the powerless self who could only watch it unfold.
Now, facing this phantom battlefield, his eyes gleamed. The sword in his hand shone, casting light on the gray battleground.
—
'Woooo...'
Back at the trial grounds, Chen Jinshu played Butterfly Dream of Zhuangzi with quiet longing. Countless butterflies emerged from the illusion, fluttering before the spectral souls and drawing them into dreamlike scenes from their past lives. The weeping and sniffles told her it was working. As the final note faded, the dream ended. Reluctant to awaken, the souls clung to their illusions—but illusions could not last forever.
As her spiritual energy depleted, the dreams dissolved. The phantoms slowly returned to awareness, staring blankly at their surroundings.
"A melody of sorrow, like weeping spring water…"
"You have passed."
A pale, ethereal voice echoed around her. Chen Jinshu's eyes lit up with joy.
"Thank you, senior," she offered a respectful bow.
"Your talent in music is exceptional—and you've also achieved much in planting and alchemy. You may choose only one reward."
"I've studied many zither pieces, but all were composed by others. I wish one day to compose my own. Only then can I reach the true heart of music."
"An admirable goal. No matter the path—music, alchemy, or cultivation—imitating others will never bring true greatness. Only innovation can break your limits…"
"I also have deep interest in alchemy," she added.
"I understand your heart."
"Who would've thought the Genesis Alchemy Furnace would fall into your hands. In that case, I shall grant you the Genesis Alchemy Scripture. May you uphold its legacy well."
The elder's airy voice faded. Before Chen Jinshu, a golden book appeared, its title glowing brightly with four characters: "玄牝丹经" (Genesis Alchemy Scripture).
The Spirit of the Yin-Yang Boundary Monument had existed for countless ages, far beyond what a mere Qi Refining cultivator like her could fathom. It detecting her possession of the cauldron was expected.
But she never imagined the cauldron had a matching scripture.