Chapter 38

Cen Qianshan cleaved the demon god before him in two, planting his boot on the creature’s head and raising his frost-silver blade high.
“If you could spare my face, maybe keep my head attached?” The demon god, pinned beneath his foot, spoke with eerie calm.
His face was strikingly pale and handsome, but two enormous black horns curled from his brow, and coal-dark scales covered everything below his neck.
Cen Qianshan paused, blade hovering inches from the demon’s forehead.
They had run into plenty of bizarre demon gods like this one on their way here.
Every time they passed through the sacred corridor, these wandering demon gods would charge at them, brimming with rage.
Yet once defeated, they ceased their fury and submitted peacefully to being dismembered, most without so much as a word.
“So they can talk. Huh. I was starting to think these things couldn’t even speak.” Miao Hong’er bent down, eyeing the horned man with frank curiosity.
“Give me a reason,” Cen Qianshan replied coldly.
These strange demon gods seemed immortal. Hack them into pieces, they simply reassembled over time, undeterred by lopped-off limbs.
But destroying their heads bought crucial time, slowing their regeneration long enough for everyone to escape safely.
“Losing my head makes me forget everything for a long while. Feels like I'm dying. It scares me,” the half-bodied demon said matter-of-factly, expressionless.
But all the same, he named an emotion, fear.
His cleaved torso leaked no blood; beneath the wound gleamed a seamless surface of obsidian crystal. He barely looked alive, more sculpture than flesh.
“Why do you stay here?” Mu Xue asked from behind Cen Qianshan.
“I don’t know. From the moment I became aware, I’ve always existed in this world. There’s a voice, one that tells me I must guard this temple, that I can’t let anyone pass. That’s my purpose, I suppose.”
“How long have you been here?”
“The sun has never set in this place. I’ve lost track of time,” the horned man said, staring blankly at the ochre sky above.
It had been thousands of years since the ancient gods ascended, leaving the mortal realm behind.
Mu Xue tugged at Cen Qianshan’s sleeve, a silent plea.
Cen Qianshan sheathed his blade without hesitation.
As they walked on, Mu Xue glanced back. Amid the rubble, the half-bodied demon groped forward, clawing toward the legs that still waited for him a few paces away.
“What is it, Xiao Xue?” Miao Hong’er, still holding Mu Xue’s hand, turned to her.
“They really do seem like a higher form of puppet, divine creations, not ordinary constructs,” Mu Xue mused aloud. Though their design differed, her expertise in puppet arts let her sense an uncanny familiarity in these demon gods. Maybe this was the ultimate goal for human puppet masters.
“No puppet’s that smart,” Miao Hong’er objected. “Even the best ones can only follow simple orders, unless you count the Wuchang on the Road of the Dead, but it took all of us to take him down.”
Mu Xue remembered the white-robed Wuchang before the Ninefold Tower. She’d clearly seen, at the last moment, how he’d lowered his hand and recalled his specters, a sign of mercy, perhaps.
Could a heartless creation of the gods truly possess thoughts and feelings?
“Long years give birth to thought,” Cen Qianshan said quietly, glancing back at them from the front.
“If they can think and feel, doesn’t that make them alive? Less cold automaton, more... living being?” Mu Xue pressed further, catching his eye.
Mu Xue looked up at Cen Qianshan; he met her gaze. A silent conversation, a wordless agreement passing between them in an instant.
Xiao Shan and her, still perfectly in tune.
Sometimes, words weren’t necessary; one look, and they knew they were always on the same page.
Cen Qianshan turned away first, fists clenching and unclenching, thumb rubbing restlessly along his fingers at his side.
Mu Xue couldn’t help the odd sensation that, maybe, he wished it was her holding his hand instead of Senior Sister Miao.
The garden of Paradise, after so much searching, was nothing like a fairytale, no celestial music, no glimmering palaces. Just a vast, silent, overgrown ruin.
Marble columns reared up, now nearly swallowed by tangled green. The fountains were long dry, moss running wild over the once-smiling faces of stone sprites frozen mid-dance.
Their colors faded beyond recognition, cracked glass lanterns drifted weightlessly through the air; every squeak and grind of rusty pivots rang shrill in the hushed, deserted courtyard.
They followed a path paved with stones in every color, winding further into the empty heart of the garden.
It was deserted. No signs of animal life, no bird calls, not even a hint of insects. Even the wandering demon gods seemed to have vanished.
Amid the deathly stillness, only the occasional stone statue broke the monotony.
The statues were life-sized, incredibly detailed, most faced the way the group had come, expressions of heartbreak or despair so vivid it was easy to forget they were stone. Every fold of clothing, every strand of hair and ripple of skin was rendered perfectly.
“Something’s off,” Fu Yun said tightly, brow furrowed. “Look at their clothes. They aren’t ancient at all. They’re wearing styles that only became popular recently.”
He halted abruptly before a certain statue, studying it for a long moment. “I know this face. One of the star disciples of Tianyan Sect’s third generation.”
Cen Qianshan studied a statue of a young woman. "She's from the Yan family of Fuwang City, their family crest is on her robes."
So all these stone statues were once living explorers who came searching for the temple.
Cen Qianshan and the others exchanged glances, their faces darkening with dread.
At first, the statues were scattered here and there. But soon, they grew in number. Then, as if a veil lifted, a grand and imposing temple suddenly towered before them.
Outside its gates, statues stood or sat frozen in all directions, each one fixed in an expression of terror. Their clothes marked every era: some wore what's trendy now, others were clearly ancient, centuries out of fashion.
Over thousands of years, the temple had appeared more than once in the world. The finest explorers, drawn here by its allure, ended up cursed, turned to everlasting stone, left for eternity at this dreadful place.
The raw despair and horror of their final moments was etched in stone and time, a chilling warning to every newcomer to think twice before rushing ahead.
The temple doors were barred with crisscrossed iron grilles, locked tight. Iron chains, as thick as a man’s arm, clamped across the entrance.
Through the gaps between the bars, they glimpsed a shadowy grand plaza beyond. In its very center hung a huge, jade tablet. Its smooth face shimmered faintly and played out silent, indistinct images.
Benches crowded the plaza before the glowing jade, countless ghostly figures sat motionless, backs straight, eyes fixed in eerie silence on the shining screen.
"Those are all restless spirits, bound here for reasons unknown. Maybe they’re remnants of the souls from the statues outside." Fu Yun stretched out an arm to stop them. "Wait here. I’ll take a look up close."
The moment his foot touched the temple steps, a calm male voice echoed from within,
"Go back. This isn't a place for mortals.
The Ancient God Dongyue has long since vanished into emptiness. There's no paradise left in this world. Nor are there any heavenly treasures inside as you imagine, so leave, now."
Everyone unleashed their spiritual senses, but found no sign of the speaker.
Fu Yun tried anyway: "One of our companions is gravely poisoned. We seek just a single stalk of immortal herb by the Deathless Pool. Forgive us, but we must enter, please allow us through."
The voice sighed. "It’s not for me to grant permission. This chain on the gate is called the Binding Heart Chain. To open it, a living person must unfasten it with their own hand. But as for what happens when you touch the chain... well, you've seen the evidence outside."
To push open those doors, you had to break that chain with your own hand, and whoever did it would have their very soul pulled into the temple, their body instantly turned to stone, trapped forever. A cruel, impossible dilemma.
"Is there any way to undo this?" Fu Yun asked.
"There is, though it's rare. If, within twelve hours of turning to stone, your companions can draw water from the Deathless Pool inside and pour it over your body, your soul will return and you’ll be made whole again." The voice answered. "But through countless years, I’ve watched humans come and go, either their friends can’t get the water in time, or they find a treasure inside, get greedy, and abandon the rescue. That’s why so many statues lie outside my gates."
Fu Yun glanced back at Miao Hong’er and Mu Xue.
He took a deep breath, stretched out his hand toward the chain,
"Wait a second," Miao Hong’er called out, stopping him. "I’ve still got questions!"
"So let me get this straight," she went on, strolling lazily up behind Fu Yun and clapping him on the shoulder with a sly grin. "Whoever’s soul gets bound is supposed to just sit tight and pray someone comes to save them? Has no one ever broken free on their own?"
The voice in the temple replied, "You're young, but gutsy. In all my years guarding this place, there have indeed been a very few who broke the chain themselves. It all depends if you've got the heart for it."
Miao Hong’er beamed. "Well then, let me give it a shot."
She barely finished speaking before she moved, spinning Fu Yun’s arm behind his back, tripping him and pinning him to the ground in a flash. With her free hand, she seized that iron chain on the door, the one that turned people to stone, and gave it a mighty tug. The chain rang sharply, and with almost no effort, snapped apart.
The whole group was stunned, no one could’ve guessed the cheerful girl joking seconds ago would act so suddenly.
Miao Hong’er let go of Fu Yun, stood up, and watched as the heavy chain in her hand dissolved, sparkling blue fragments fading into her body until nothing was left.
Fu Yun scrambled to his feet, face ashen, teeth clenched. "Miao Hong’er, you, !"
She winked, all smiles. "Yeah, you’re stronger than me at cultivation. But in hand-to-hand? Still not your department. Don’t forget, I’m senior sister of Xiaoyao Peak, we go by seniority round here. That means me first!"
As she spoke, the first shadows of gray crept onto her features, the telltale sign of petrification beginning.
Mu Xue dashed up the steps and grabbed her arm, heart tight with worry.
Miao Hong’er, her hands already starting to stiffen, ruffled Mu Xue’s hair. "Don’t be scared, Xiao Xue. Cultivators like us have to follow our hearts, even if it means facing our own tribulation, there’s no point dodging it. Go in with your senior brother, okay? Your senior sister’s tough, I’ll break out of this soon enough and catch up."
The rock-gray now swallowed her feet, creeping like water over skin that had just moments ago been full of life.
Fu Yun watched her, fists clenched, lips pressed tight in frustration.
Miao Hong’er looked up at her junior brother, forcing one last wry smile. "Don’t be mad. You’re Guiyuan Sect’s strongest disciple. You going in is just the right call, don’t argue with me."
The lifeless gray climbed up her neck, ready to freeze her smile into stone.
"You know, there’s something I’ve always wanted to say, and since we’re here, why not now?"
"I used to pick on you all the time when we were kids."
"But really, it wasn’t that I didn’t like you, it was just... I wanted to play, but you know I was too proud to say it."
"Sorry, alright? Your senior sister owes you that much."
That beautiful smile froze across her lips at last. The hand that had just warmed Mu Xue’s hair lost all life and warmth, petrified midair, immortalized in stone.
Mu Xue lifted her head and peered through those gray fingers, her gaze lingering on that all-too-familiar face now turned to stone.
She rose onto her toes, squeezed that hand frozen in midair, then spun on her heel and strode toward the now-open iron gate.
Cen Qianshan reached out from behind to grab her wrist. “I was just about to head to the Deathless Pool. I swear, I’ll bring you the water myself. This place is crawling with danger, and you… you’re still so young. Just wait outside and look after your senior sister, alright?”
Mu Xue glanced back at him. “At first, I thought I’d come here for my senior brother and sister, but just now, I realized… This place, this journey, was fated for me all along. It’s here to temper my heart, to let me face my own tribulation.”
She looked at the open iron door. “Given how I feel right now, I’m not supposed to avoid this temple. I probably can’t, anyway. Let’s… Let’s go in together.”
Fu Yun was the first to step through the doorway, white light swirling around him.
Mu Xue turned to Cen Qianshan for a last look, squeezed his hand tight, and the two of them followed, stepping into that blazing field of white light.