"Is this... truly the legendary River of Forgetfulness?" Su Miaoqing asked, her voice laced with shock and uncertainty as she stared at the ominous waters.
Luo Yun stood beside her, eyes wide with astonishment. "The descriptions match perfectly. The water is a churning, blood-yellow soup, teeming with venomous insects and serpents... and filled with countless vengeful wraiths."
"Real or fake, the Immortal Abode should be waiting on the other shore," Wang Laoxie laughed, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Who knows if it’s an Immortal Abode or a gateway to the Netherworld?" Su Miaoqing retorted irritably. She had already lost all patience with this eerie place.
Xiao Yifeng, maintaining his disguise as the aloof "Wuchen," remained silent. He knew the truth: this place was far from simple. However, the path he had taken this time differed slightly from his memories of his past life, leaving him momentarily unable to pinpoint their exact coordinates within the massive complex.
"Since the Abode is right across, we should cross immediately," Lingyun the Daoist urged, his excitement palpable. The prospect of ancient wealth made him ignore the oppressive atmosphere.
"The River of Forgetfulness is not so easily traversed," Xiao Yifeng said coolly, his tone detached. "Legends state that a goose feather cannot float upon these waters. But if you doubt it, Fellow Daoists, feel free to attempt a crossing."
The group paused, taken aback by his warning. Wang Laoxie, ever the skeptic, produced a block of wood from his storage ring. It was Golden Spirit Wood, emitting a faint, verdant fluorescence—a material known for its extreme buoyancy.
He tied a strand of celestial silk to the wood and tossed it into the river.
Plop.
Contrary to physics, the wood did not bob to the surface. It sank like a heavy stone, vanishing instantly into the blood-yellow depths.
Wang Laoxie frowned and prepared to haul it back. Suddenly, the silk line went taut. Beneath the surface, countless pale, distorted faces swarmed the wood like a school of piranhas. In the blink of an eye, the spiritual wood was gnawed into nothingness.
The spirits didn't stop there. They began to climb the silk thread, clawing their way up toward the bank with terrifying speed.
"Damn it!" Wang Laoxie shrieked, hastily severing the line and tossing the spool into the river.
The surface of the water erupted into chaos. Thousands of ghosts fought over the scrap of silk, tearing at each other in a frenzy. The air filled with the agonized wails of the damned, a cacophony that chilled the bone.
The group stepped back, faces pale. The horrific spectacle was a bucket of ice water on their greed. If they had rashly flown over or touched the water, even their Cultivation bases wouldn't have saved them from being devoured alive.
Su Miaoqing and Luo Yun looked particularly ill, unable to fathom the horror of falling into such a river.
"The creatures in this river are truly abominable," Lingyun the Daoist said, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. "Crossing by boat is impossible. perhaps we can fly?"
Xiao Yifeng shook his head, his expression impassive. "Flight is forbidden over the true River of Forgetfulness. To force your way through the air is to present yourself as a meal for the dead."
Seeing the skeptical looks directed his way, Xiao Yifeng shrugged nonchalantly. "Or so I have heard. As I said, if you do not believe me, you are welcome to test the theory with your life."
The group fell silent. Test it? That was a one-way ticket to reincarnation.
"Legend speaks of a Bridge of Helplessness spanning the river," Luo Yun mused. "I wonder if such a thing exists here?"
"If there's a bridge, is there also a Meng Po? And her soup of forgetfulness?" Su Miaoqing’s eyes lit up with morbid curiosity.
"Whether there is or isn't, we will find out if we follow the current upstream," Liu Yue decided.
"Then let us proceed," Lin Xiao laughed, playing the role of the refined gentleman. The group moved out, the veneer of harmony barely concealing the ulterior motives harboring in each of their hearts.
They marched along the riverbank, battling the foul wind that carried the metallic tang of blood and sulfur. The stench was nauseating, causing the three women—Su Miaoqing, Luo Yun, and Mo Shuiyao—to furrow their brows in disgust.
The River of Forgetfulness seemed endless. They walked for what felt like hours, the scenery unchanging in its gloom. Fortunately, as cultivators, they possessed the patience to endure solitude, so no one complained.
To break the oppressive silence, they began to trade intelligence regarding the dungeon.
"The master of this abode certainly had a penchant for the theatrical," Mo Shuiyao said, her voice soft and alluring, though her eyes remained sharp. "Yellow Springs Road, Higanbana flowers, and now the River of Forgetfulness. Did he intend to build a replica of the Underworld?"
"It is hard to say," Lin Xiao praised, shaking his head. "But his methods are god-like. To carve out a separate dimension and create an ecosystem that operates independently... it is breathtaking."
"Such ability is beyond even the Tribulation Transcendence stage," Luo Yun speculated. "This place was almost certainly created by a true Immortal."
"Heh," Wang Laoxie chuckled, his voice raspy. "An abode that has claimed the lives of Nascent Soul and even Mahayana patriarchs is naturally no simple grave."
His words dropped like a boulder into a pond.
"Fellow Daoist Wang, surely you jest?" Lingyun stopped, looking incredulous. "Mahayana experts perishing here? I was under the impression that this space only admits those at the Nascent Soul stage or below. How could a Grandmaster of the Mahayana realm die here?"
"It only admits the young now," Wang Laoxie sneered, enjoying the attention. "The Jade Pendant selects the entrant. But in the distant past, this was a battlefield that countless Mahayana experts flocked to."
Seeing their disbelief, he continued, "It is precisely because those titans fought here—some say even Tribulation Transcendence monsters joined the fray—that the very fabric of the Immortal Abode was shattered. That damage is why the restriction has lowered to the Nascent Soul stage."
Xiao Yifeng remained silent, but he knew Wang Laoxie spoke the truth. The previous Hall Master of Wuya Hall had perished here silently, a fact known only to a few.
"If that is the case, wouldn't the treasures have been looted clean ages ago?" Su Miaoqing asked.
"Perhaps the supreme treasures meant for Ascendants are gone," Wang Laoxie admitted. "But for us? Even a scrap left behind by a Mahayana expert is a supreme fortune. Does the Fairy from the Inquiry Heaven Sect not know this?"
Wang Laoxie cast a suspicious glance at Su Miaoqing.
"My Junior Sister and I are merely traveling scholars," Xiao Yifeng interjected smoothly, his voice devoid of emotion. "We stumbled into this place by accident."
"Regardless," Lingyun rubbed his hands together, greed returning to his eyes. "Even if the treasury is empty, rumors say the ultimate prize, the Book of Destiny, remains. And even failing that, picking up a fallen expert’s Dharma Treasure would be a massive opportunity."
"The Book of Destiny?" Liu Yue asked. "What is that?"
Mo Shuiyao shook her head, her expression unreadable. "It is said to be the core of the Reincarnation Immortal Abode, an artifact capable of rewriting one's fate. But such a heaven-defying object... this humble girl suspects it was taken long ago. It is not something we should dream of."
Xiao Yifeng lowered his gaze to hide the glint in his eyes.
The Book of Destiny is here.
In his previous life, he had missed it by a hair’s breadth. This time, he would not let it slip through his fingers.
"Hey! Look, another stone tablet!" Su Miaoqing chirped, pointing into the distance.
Xiao Yifeng glanced at her, impressed despite himself. What kind of eyes does this girl have?
The group hastened their pace, arriving before a massive black monolith standing by the riverbank. It was identical in material to the one Xiao Yifeng had stolen earlier, only much larger. Three blood-red characters were carved into the surface: River of Forgetfulness.
Beside the title, a smaller line of text read: The River of Forgetfulness; where flying birds cannot cross.
The group sighed in collective disappointment. It was just a road marker.
"Let's move," Liu Yue said, not sparing the rock a second glance. "The next checkpoint must be close."
As the others walked ahead, Xiao Yifeng stepped up to the massive black stone. He placed a palm against the cold surface, and with a flash of spiritual light, he swept the entire monolith into his Storage Ring.
The sudden disappearance of the landmark drew stares.
"Fellow Daoist Wuchen..." Lingyun stared at him, eyes narrowing. "What is the meaning of this? Is that stone a treasure?" Regret instantly bloomed in his chest—he should have checked it!
"I merely wished for a souvenir," Xiao Yifeng smiled faintly, offering no further explanation.
Lingyun opened his mouth, then closed it. He couldn't demand it back now, but he silently vowed that if they encountered another stone, he would snatch it first, questions later.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, at the Inquiry Heaven Sect.
Morning light bathed the Wuya Hall. Lin Ziyun, having finished her administrative duties, walked the familiar path to the Hall of a Thousand Lamps.
Since Su Miaoqing and Xiao Yifeng had descended the mountain, this had become her daily ritual. She needed to see the warm glow of their soul lamps to set her heart at ease.
Thinking of the pair, Lin Ziyun rubbed her temples. She had arranged for the elder Lingxu to shadow them, but the two brats had somehow outwitted him, sending the old man back to the sect while they vanished.
Qing'er is always wild, she thought, but Yifeng... he is usually so steady. How could he join her in such recklessness?
She pushed open the heavy doors. Inside, thousands of flames flickered like a sea of stars.
Lin Ziyun’s gaze went instinctively to the central pedestal. Her blood ran cold.
Among the cluster of elite disciple lamps, two flames were sputtering. They were dim, flickering violently as if beaten by a storm, on the verge of extinguishing completely.
Xiao Yifeng. Su Miaoqing.
They were dying.
"No..." Lin Ziyun’s face drained of color. A terrifying chill seized her mind. She spun around, panic lending wings to her feet, and rushed to find her husband.
Moments later, a streak of sword-light tore through the sky and crashed into the Hall. Su Qianyi, the Master of Wuya Hall, stared at the dying flames, his face grim.
He wasted no time. Hands forming complex seals, he cast a supreme divination art, attempting to lock onto their spiritual coordinates.
The spell fizzled out.
"Nothing," Su Qianyi whispered, his voice trembling for the first time in years. "They are not within the Three Realms. They are not among the Five Elements."
The realization hit him like a physical blow.
He immediately summoned his disciples. The hall filled with anxious faces.
When the elder Lingxu saw the dim lamps, his legs gave out. He collapsed to his knees, kowtowing so hard his forehead struck the stone floor with a sickening thud.
"It is this disciple's fault!" Lingxu wailed, refusing to rise. "I failed to protect Junior Sister Miaoqing and Junior Brother Yifeng! I deserve death!"
Guilt consumed him. If he hadn't been so easily duped, they wouldn't be lost in the void.
"Lingxu, stand up," Lin Ziyun said, her voice shaking as she used her magic power to lift the old man. "This is not your fault. It is those two... they are too mischievous. It is my fault for indulging them."
Lingxu continued to weep, his tears staining his beard. Su Qianyi stood silent, his expression as dark as the deepest ocean.
"If I hadn't let Qing'er go..." Lin Ziyun sobbed, leaning against her husband.
"It will be fine," Su Qianyi said, though his grip on her shoulder was tight enough to bruise. "The lamps are dim, but they are still lit. As long as there is fire, there is life. I will find them. If I cannot, I will beg the Sect Leader. The Inquiry Heaven Sect has nine Mahayana Patriarchs—we will turn the world upside down if we have to."
"Master," a disciple named Xiang Tiange spoke up, his brow furrowed in thought. "You said they are not in the Three Realms or Five Elements? Could they have entered a sealed Secret Realm? This phenomenon... it feels familiar."
"Familiar..." Lingxu wiped his eyes, a memory surfacing. "Yes... I remember this too."
Su Qianyi and Lin Ziyun exchanged a horrified look. They spoke the name in unison:
"Daoist Qingxu!"
The previous Master of Wuya Hall.
Years ago, Daoist Qingxu had vanished during secluded cultivation. His soul lamp had dimmed exactly like this—untraceable, cut off from the world. Half a month later, the flame had extinguished forever. It remained one of the sect's greatest unsolved mysteries.
Lin Ziyun swayed, nearly fainting. "No... it cannot be the same."
"It isn't," Su Qianyi said fiercely, trying to convince himself as much as her. "I will send disciples to retrace their steps immediately."
He barked orders, sending search parties flying down the mountain. But as the Hall Master, he could not leave his post so easily.
Su Qianyi and Lin Ziyun stood before the flickering lamps, helpless. They could only watch and pray, guarding the fragile flames against the encroaching darkness.