Chapter 47

#On the Tombstone, You Must Write: “Beloved Late Wife”…

Xie Zhuo and I were exposed beneath blade and spear.

The black-armored soldier atop the tall steed, under the faint glow of the mist, looked like a statue caught between god and demon.

I still couldn’t see the face beneath his helmet. All I saw was him raising his spear high.

My eyes widened. The scene stretched out, growing slow and long in my sight, though in reality, all I heard was a sharp swish—the silver spear missed both Xie Zhuo and me, piercing straight into the ground beside us. He dismounted, but from the other side.

He didn’t kill us.

He gave us the horse.

Xie Zhuo had gambled right.

Still carrying me on his back, Xie Zhuo swiftly mounted the horse.

“Take the spear…”

I finally heard the voice of the black-armored soldier. It was deep and resonant, like the beat of a war drum.

So… he’d thrown the silver spear at us not to kill, but for us to take it?

I turned my head to look at him, but he had already turned away from us, facing the countless evil spirits chasing close behind.

If we took his spear, what would he use?

Just as I had that thought, Xie Zhuo, from horseback, reached out and pulled the silver spear from the ground. Then, without hesitation, he flung his own sword toward the black-armored soldier.

The soldier didn’t even turn around, but caught the sword effortlessly by sound alone. Without a word, he charged straight into the oncoming spirits, blade in hand, and began to fight.

Xie Zhuo didn’t delay. He cradled me tightly in his arms, gripped the silver spear, and urged the horse forward, charging straight toward the inner gates of the city.

The two of them had barely crossed paths—just long enough to exchange a horse and weapons. But their seamless understanding made me feel like they had fought side by side more than once before…

There was no time to ask, and I didn’t have the strength to ask. I jolted along on horseback, being carried forward, always forward.

More and more “people” leapt out to block our path. I couldn’t even call them evil spirits anymore—because I couldn’t tell them apart.

Riding hard, Xie Zhuo cut them down one after another with the silver spear—merciless, without hesitation.

My blurred vision could no longer tell if what sprayed from those slain figures was black mist or fresh blood.

One way or another, the big black horse had indeed sped up our escape.

The inner wall loomed ever closer. The gates became clearer. Compared to the crumbling outer walls, the inner wall looked brand new, and the gate showed no signs of damage—still as towering as a mountain. Its massive shadow pressed down on me with crushing weight.

As we drew closer to the inner gate, the pursuing spirits grew increasingly frenzied. Screams and howls rang out behind us.

Just as my ears had gotten used to the carnage, Xie Zhuo suddenly spurred the horse forward—it leapt, as if over a small bridge—and in that moment, all noise vanished.

Beneath us, only the uneasy breathing of the black horse remained.

I strained to look back and saw that we had crossed a small wooden bridge, over a long-dried-up riverbed. What was once meant to be a barrier had long since lost its purpose due to the drought.

The city’s… moat?

It struck me as odd. But even stranger was—

“Xie Zhuo…” I looked back. All the frenzied spirits had halted on the far side of the little river.

They stared, eyes wide, mouths open, but silent—and that silence was somehow even more terrifying than the earlier chaos.

“What are they afraid of?”

They had chased us all this way. Surely they weren’t afraid of me and Xie Zhuo?

Why wouldn’t they come near the inner wall?

Xie Zhuo didn’t answer. Instead, he dismounted, taking me down with him.

He held me tightly with one arm, securing me against his chest, and with the other, slid the silver spear into the old, worn saddle.

He patted the horse’s neck. “Return to its rightful master.”

With a loud neigh, the black horse turned and galloped back into the mists of Undying City, trampling over anything in its path. Its figure soon disappeared into the fog.

Xie Zhuo’s eyes stayed calm and cold as he glanced at the stopped spirits, then turned and carried me forward.

“It’s taken us this far. That’s enough. Once it leaves the city, it can’t return.”

As he walked toward the towering inner gates, he finally answered my earlier question—

“They fear what’s imprisoned inside the inner wall.”

I didn’t understand…

Until I saw Xie Zhuo raise his hand. Spiritual energy surged in his palm—for the first time since entering Undying City, he was using his cultivation.

Under his control, a stone he had carried close to his body floated out from under his robes.

It glowed with an eerie blue light, like moonlight in motion.

At the same moment, the tightly closed inner gate shimmered with the same glow. Then, with a loud click—

The massive gate shuddered, letting out a deep rumble as it cracked open just enough to form a narrow gap.

Through the gap came the sound of the wind. Snow whipped through the air, swept into the city by the gusts.

The moment that icy wind touched them, the spirits behind us scattered like birds. No more pursuers followed us.

Xie Zhuo withdrew his energy, and the stone around his neck dropped back down.

He stepped forward.

The gate was so large that even the narrowest gap was enough for the two of us to pass.

The towering doors cast a brief shadow over us, blotting out the sky. Darkness fell like a curtain of water, washing over both me and Xie Zhuo.

And then, we passed through.

Behind us, the doors slammed shut with a thunderous boom.

Before us was a land of eternal wind and snow.

Within the storm, came a dreadful creak, creak sound that made my teeth ache.

I looked ahead—and felt a chill down to my bones.

A pitch-black “person,” wrapped in black mist, was gnawing on another “person.” His teeth had torn through flesh and were now scraping bone.

And he wasn’t the only one.

In the blizzard, countless figures were biting, tearing, devouring each other. Some of them were even being consumed by others as they themselves fed.

The grinding crunch of bones filled the air. It felt like we had stepped into the lowest circle of hell.

“What… are they?”

“Chang ghosts,” Xie Zhuo answered.

That word—I had only ever read about it in Kunlun’s ancient texts. It was said that ever since the evil gods vanished, such creatures no longer existed in this world. They were beings entirely devoured by the aura of evil spirits—no longer human by any measure.

So… this was what Undying City imprisoned?

The chang ghosts seemed to sense something different.

They stopped their feast, slowly turning to face us. Their eyes rolled erratically in their sockets. Some had faces covered in eyes, all of which turned to stare at me and Xie Zhuo.

They gnashed their teeth. The sound sent chills through me. One of them stepped forward—and behind him, countless others followed, advancing toward us.

We had left Undying City…

And ahead of us stood an unending army of demons.

“Xie Zhuo…” I clung to my last breath and gave a bitter laugh. “Are you trying to save my life… or walk me to my death?”

Xie Zhuo didn’t answer.

But spiritual power began to gather around him.

I knew then—this was the crucial moment he had spoken of.

The moment when he would finally use all his strength.

The footsteps of the wandering ghosts grew faster and faster. Some crawled toward us from the ground, while others pounced from the air!

Fresh flesh and blood—perhaps it had been far too long since they last encountered any. In an instant, countless malevolent spirits surged forward like ominous clouds, blotting out the sky.

And in this environment, I had even less control over the churning energy within me. My skin began to crack open continuously, and streams of black, ominous energy burst forth, fluttering in the air like ribbons—almost as if they were welcoming the overwhelming army of wandering ghosts.

In a flash, the ghosts reached me and Xie Zhuo, surrounding us both in the air and on the ground, killing intent everywhere.

Just then, a soft light flared from around Xie Zhuo, forming a faint blue barrier in a circular shape that enveloped us.

I looked up at him, only to hear him softly utter one word: “Still.”

The light burst forth like a morning bell, cleansing everything in its path. In an instant, shrieks of the ghosts echoed all around, and in the blink of an eye, they all turned into black smoke and dispersed into the air.

I stood there, stunned.

Ah…

That’s it?

The legendary wandering ghosts—was it really that easy to destroy them?

Or… was Xie Zhuo’s power just that terrifying?

I looked up at Xie Zhuo. “Your spiritual power…”

“Enough.”

He spoke a single word, then took me with him as he rode the wind forward.

It was as if he had calculated the route with precision—straight ahead, without a single detour.

Wind and snow rushed past us. The ominous energy I left behind drifted in the air like winding ribbons. Below, the ghosts looked up at us, forming a long pursuit line behind.

But along Xie Zhuo’s path, all were left far behind and vanished before long.

The surrounding wind and snow gradually stilled. Ahead, a forest came into view. The closer we got, not only did the ghosts vanish from the ground, even the ominous air in the sky disappeared. When we reached the forest’s edge, the aura in the air shifted dramatically—so sacred, it surpassed even the palace of the Queen Mother of the West.

Even though I was in Kunlun, I had never felt such pure energy.

The forest was tranquil. The tree trunks looked like ice, the leaves like snow—it was a forest of pure white…

This forest…

I had seen it in a dream before. It was the homeland of the Snow Wolf Tribe. Here, the Snow Wolf Chieftain summoned the soul of the Evil God and forced Xie Zhuo’s mother to give birth to him.

The Evil God intended to use him… as a vessel for its own soul.

The tribe saw him as the cursed consequence of that god.

His mother saw him as a tainted child…

I looked at Xie Zhuo. His expression was firm and determined, seemingly unaffected by his surroundings. No trace of the past lingered in his demeanor. He showed no discomfort, only resolute focus on his goal.

We passed through the forest and arrived at an icy lake, seemingly forever frozen.

Xie Zhuo finally stopped and placed me gently on the ice.

This place… I had just seen it in a dream not long ago. It was here that the Snow Wolf Chieftain summoned the Evil God’s soul, black as drifting sand.

Xie Zhuo had brought me here…

By now, there was probably not a single patch of unbroken skin left on me. In this sacred forest, I was the only one still emitting a corrupt, dark aura.

But the moment that aura rose into the air, it was torn apart.

Now that we had stopped, I could feel with painful clarity how my body was collapsing. The evil energy had devoured my organs entirely. My breaths were shallow—more out than in.

I thought, perhaps… I was just a little too late.

Even if Xie Zhuo had divine power, he probably couldn’t save someone like me anymore.

In this moment, so close to death, I opened my mouth and trembled as I whispered hoarsely to Xie Zhuo, “On the tombstone… you must write: ‘Beloved Wife… Fu Jiuxia…’”

Beloved wife—not ex-wife.

In the end, that was the only thing I wanted to make clear.

It had been a mistake to suggest separation. I regretted cutting the red string of fate.

Xie Zhuo knelt beside me. Since laying me down, his fingers had been tracing something in the air.

Upon hearing my words, his hand froze. He looked at me, his gaze carrying a touch of helpless amusement, and perhaps… a bit of heartache.

He looked at me.

Then he stood.

My eyes no longer had the strength to stay open. Before I closed them completely, I vaguely saw him take out an axe.

Worn, cracked—but I recognized it.

The Pangu Axe.

Xie Zhuo… was he going to split open time and space again?

I didn’t live long enough to see what came next. At last, I closed my eyes completely.

The world fell into a deathly silence, engulfed in darkness.