Regardless of how well Lu Nanfeng had treated her, for the sake of her own past with Ye Chuxue, she should never have raised a hand against him.
Yet Ye Chuxue had not only killed Lu Nanfeng—she had even tried to kill him as well?
A deep, unshakable gloom flickered in Bai Yang's eyes as his grip tightened until his knuckles cracked.
At last, he could see Ye Chuxue's false benevolence for what it truly was.
His Master had been right all along; it was he who had been blinded in the past.
Every time he thought about the wrongs he had committed for Ye Chuxue, remorse gnawed at him all the more. His Master was already distant from him. He had to find a way to make amends.
Bai Yang sent Song Wanníng several more message talismans in succession, then began seeking news of Ye Chuxue and Gu Qingyuan's whereabouts. He would avenge Lu Nanfeng. He would never forgive that woman, Ye Chuxue.
Two days slipped by in a blur. Song Wanníng had completed the trial of the sixth floor.
The Trial Tower's stages were linked, and by now she could merge formations with swordsmanship for more than ten breaths, her combat strength soaring.
In those ten breaths, it was as if ten Divine Transformation cultivators attacked at once—power that ordinary Divine Transformation cultivators could not withstand.
She had also learned several other tactics, though they still needed refinement.
Now that she had passed the sixth floor, a reward appeared before her once more. Song Wanníng reached out to receive it and found a strange stone, utterly unremarkable at first glance.
As she turned it over in her palm, a line of words surfaced on its own.
"Guiding Stone?"
This was…
Wasn't this the legendary stone that allowed one to cross the River of Forgetfulness in the Netherworld?
How could it appear here?
The entrance to the Netherworld had been sealed since the ancient war, and for countless millennia afterward no one had found it again. Since then, ghost cultivators had vanished from the world. Yet everyone knew the Netherworld still existed—after all, mortals could still enter the cycle of reincarnation.
The Heavenly Dao might be unjust, but it maintained a delicate balance. Ordinary people could not cultivate, but they could be reborn, perhaps awakening with spiritual roots in their next life.
Sometimes, however, if a mortal's obsession was too strong, they might refuse reincarnation and eventually cultivate into a ghost cultivator.
Cultivators, however, were different. Once dead, they vanished entirely, with no chance for reincarnation. Only by becoming an immortal or attaining divinity could they undergo tribulations and be reborn. This Guiding Stone might never have any real use.
Song Wanníng gave it only a brief glance before putting it away. At the same time, a great door glowing red appeared before her, radiating a powerful allure that seemed to pull her forward.
"Big Sister, we're almost at the last floor. Do you think the reward could be Xi Rang?"
The little golden sword bounced excitedly, full of optimism.
Ever since its master had gradually diminished Ye Chuxue's luck, things had gone more smoothly for them. Otherwise, they would never have stumbled upon this Trial Tower.
"Unlikely."
Song Wanníng's voice was cool. She was not as optimistic as the golden sword. On the contrary, she found the sudden appearance of this place suspicious. She certainly did not believe the Heavenly Dao had recognized her excellence and changed its mind.
Still, she stepped toward the door and pushed it open.
She entered a study.
Portraits were scattered everywhere, lying about in disarray.
As the breeze from the open door stirred the room, one portrait fluttered up and drifted toward her face. Her expression sharpened. She caught it in her hand, and after a single glance, her face darkened.
So it was her again.
"How is it her?"
The little golden sword caught sight of the portrait and yelped.
"Why is it Ye Chuxue again? Why does she keep haunting us?"
There should have been no connection here at all.
But the person in the portrait—who else could it be but Ye Chuxue?
Looking closer, there were many portraits: sitting, reclining, tending flowers… Ye Chuxue in countless poses and outfits.
If this were not the Trial Tower, Song Wanníng might have thought she had stepped into the study of a secret admirer.
What was going on?
She frowned, her doubts mounting, when a sudden surge of spiritual energy fell from above. A figure took shape before her eyes.
It was a man with sharp, cold features. His bearing was like that of an exiled immortal—aloof and untouchable.
Yet his eyes now held an aggressive edge, fixed not on her but on the golden sword.
"You know the person in the portraits?"
His voice was cold, tinged with accusation. Like a drop of water striking hot oil, the atmosphere erupted, spiritual energy boiling through the room.
A killing intent surged toward Song Wanníng, the hostility in it undisguised. Her gaze hardened. She released the full weight of her own aura, forcing his back.
Compare killing intent? She feared no one.
In an instant, the turbulent spiritual energy calmed. The man's expression darkened, and at last his eyes shifted to her.
Song Wanníng met his stare unflinchingly. She had been through scenes like this before and was long accustomed to them. Still, for something like this to happen even without Ye Chuxue present… that was unexpected.
"Hmph. You have some courage."
The man gave a short, cold laugh, withdrawing his aura as if realizing she would not be easy to handle.
With a casual wave, a portrait appeared in his hand.
The moment he looked at it, his eyes softened like water, filled with deep longing.
"This is my late wife. What did you just call her?"
When he lifted his gaze again, it was far more profound.
Song Wanníng said nothing.
"What, no answer?"
His aura flared once more, on the verge of exploding. In just a few breaths, his expression had shifted so wildly it was as if he had two different personalities.
She still held her tongue. From the look of him, this was likely the remnant soul of an ancient cultivator. The "late wife" he spoke of resembled Ye Chuxue greatly…
Yet on closer inspection, their eyes were different.
Ye Chuxue always showed herself as kind and steadfast, her gaze carrying a sharper edge. But the woman in the portraits looked infinitely gentle, like a pure white jasmine—delicate, fresh, and soft. Her clear eyes seemed as if they could wash away the filth from a person's soul.
This was certainly not Ye Chuxue.
"Heh. So you refuse the polite approach. Then don't blame me for not warning you."
A cruel smile curved his lips. "The seventh floor of the Trial Tower forbids outsiders. Its power will erase intruders completely. If you hadn't spoken that name when looking at her portrait, you would already be destroyed in both body and soul."
His longing for his late wife had made him appear. But seeing their unwillingness to speak further, his tone turned final. If that was the case, they could die.
The words had barely left his lips before he vanished.
He had arrived suddenly and left with the same decisiveness, without pressing them again.
A realization struck Song Wanníng, darkening her expression even more.
This must be some fortuitous opportunity tied to Ye Chuxue. The seventh floor, normally sealed to outsiders, had opened only because she resembled that man's late wife…