Jiang Lixuan surveyed his surroundings. The rain fell like woven threads, striking his face with an unnatural, viscous chill.
Mangyi… the northern slopes of Mount Mang?
Fragments of memory surfaced—this was Mangyi, a settlement for disabled and elderly soldiers. Mangyi, a remote border region in the northeast of the barren lands, looked east toward Yan Territory and leaned against the solitary peaks of Guzhi Mountain.
He instinctively raised a hand to shield himself from the rain, his tattered sleeve revealing pale fingers. The raindrops felt cold and sticky against his skin, an eerie sensation.
Something was wrong.
He reached out, catching droplets dripping from a wine shop's banner. The water fell with an unnatural rhythm, almost deliberate.
One drop, two drops… a small pool gradually formed in his palm, reflecting a face obscured by a wooden mask.
Jiang Lixuan instinctively touched his cheek but felt nothing.
A thought flashed through his mind—a virtual realm!
This was a realm born from human obsession, reflected in the void.
For instance, those who suffered unjust accusations or died with unresolved grievances could project their obsessions into the void. Superficial obsessions would eventually dissipate under the void's relentless erosion, while only profound ones could maintain their form and solidify into a virtual realm.
Similarly, a vast accumulation of reflected thoughts could also stabilize and create a virtual realm.
Some realms were built on quality, others on quantity.
The former faded with the dissipation of the obsession, while the latter shifted with the scattering of collective consciousness.
Jiang Lixuan recognized this because those trapped in such a realm would naturally reflect their innermost "truth" in their consciousness—just like the mask, which he had once used to conceal his unusual pupils. Though it no longer physically existed, his lingering obsession had given it form.
If this was a virtual realm, could he manipulate it with his thoughts? As Jiang Lixuan focused, his tattered feathered robe transformed into traveler's attire:
A wide-brimmed hat draped over loose hair, its dark veil gathered over his shoulders; sword-straight sideburns falling to his chest; a luminescent yellow hunting top paired with simple dark trousers, slightly worn but tidy; a hooked belt cinched at his waist, his posture erect.
This was how he had once traversed the Nine Provinces. Yet… something felt missing.
What was it? He couldn't recall.
Just then, a peculiarly shaped black box materialized out of nowhere, silently attaching itself to his back.
Jiang Lixuan remained unaware. This attempt at recollection brought no pain, as if he had found a relatively safe path—using the virtual realm to awaken dormant memories, like selectively fishing small fragments from a chaotic stream while avoiding the dangerous predators lurking beneath.
A sense of familiarity washed over him with the old attire, and he relaxed slightly.
But beneath this momentary calm lay deeper unease—he needed to find the core of the virtual realm quickly! Sever the ties that had drawn him here and escape the bronze coffin! Compared to the river, he suspected the coffin itself was the real issue.
Scriptures surfaced in his mind, echoing the teachings of Boundless Zen Enlightenment.
He forcibly severed his thoughts, anchoring his mind to the virtual realm.
Focus! Focus!
Suddenly, a wave of noise washed over him. Jiang Lixuan looked up.
The air was thick with the smell of mutton fat and sweat. The shouts of waiters intertwined with the melodies of huqins under the roof beams, while rouge and kumiss splashed shades of red across the scene.
As he prepared to move, a familiar weight settled on his back—raindrops dripped from the edge of his hat, tapping against the black box. The box's engraved yázì pattern devoured the flickering candlelight from the tavern.
Hah! When did that get here?!
How had he managed to recall this "old companion"?
Jiang Lixuan sighed inwardly. This was a blood sacrifice artifact! A "demanding master" that required daily blood offerings! In his haste to reshape the virtual realm and suppress the scriptures, he had inadvertently summoned this deadly "familiar" black box!
As if sensing his frustration, the box trembled slightly, shaking rainwater onto him in protest.
Jiang Lixuan ignored it, pretending it didn't exist, and silently reminded himself: This is just a virtual realm, unreal and illusory.
Two consecutive lapses in control, though allowing him to "fish" for memory fragments, proved this method was not foolproof—some memories were merely less lethal.
He smiled bitterly inwardly. He had to act quickly. The more he walked the night road, the more likely he was to meet ghosts—the probability of encountering terrifying memories was far from small. Perhaps, in a way, the chaotic memory flow trapping all fragments was a form of protection for someone with amnesia.
But… what had happened? Which memories were safe? Where were the clues?
Just then, a mournful song echoed from the center of the tavern.
"North wind, rain, and snow—grief hard to sever,
Red attire leans on the pavilion, white bones buried.
Mountain vows and ocean pledges extinguish like dying candles.
I ask, where are you now? Where are you?"
A Hu-dressed dancer in red gauze lifted her skirt with one hand and adjusted her beaded crown with the other, spinning like a soaring flame. Her swirling skirts drew thunderous applause from the crowd!
Suddenly, she pivoted, lightly leaped onto a wine table, and spun her legs like a whirlwind. White, red, and multicolored "butterflies" fluttered around her.
In an instant, a leather boot flew squarely into Jiang Lixuan's palm, while another landed in the bowl of a mesmerized patron.
He looked up.
At the table where the dancer perched, the central seat was occupied by a middle-aged scholar in a narrow-sleeved black robe. A gentle smile played on his lips, but a flicker of surprise gleamed in his eyes as he met the dancer's upward-gazing, blinking gaze.
Jiang Lixuan's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of an identity tag sewn inside the scholar's collar. As the scholar's sleeves shifted, a sliver of silver gleamed coldly from within.
Cangyuan? Lackeys of the Chenyang's Fangfeng Department.
Decades of experience in the martial world had taught him that some tactics never changed.
He had intended to stay out of it and focus on finding the virtual realm's core… But since the virtual realm was a collective reflection of human consciousness, unrelated thoughts would naturally pass by unnoticed. In other words, it was precisely because of past connections and resonances that he had been drawn into this realm, chosen by it!
If so, perhaps within this realm, he could find clues, even more.
His mind raced as he walked over, holding the boot.
The scholar was slightly turned, as if listening, while pouring wine from a pot into the dancer's slightly parted red lips as a reward.
To his left, a shabbily dressed woman clutched a young child, shrinking into the background.
Now, she timidly pulled out a small bamboo slip from her bosom and said tremulously, "The road to Chenyang is long. Forgive this humble woman for being frail and unable to accompany the General. This tally was bestowed upon my late husband by the late Emperor Liewen. I am uneducated and do not know its meaning. Now that my husband is dead, I complete his duty by returning it."
It was as if an invisible hammer had struck.
The scholar's gentle smile froze instantly, his body stiffening like a puppet.
The bamboo tally, full of cracks, was difficult to replicate—and unnecessary. Its value lay in its authenticity.
Jiang Lixuan stared at the tally, a sense of familiarity washing over him—he remembered!
This was the Decree-Defying Lord's tally!
In the past, Yao Jiebin, Marquis of the Barren Lands, managed the Thunder Department to cultivate the barren lands through farming and warfare, settled Mangchi to divide Yanbei, and launched six campaigns against Guzhi to lay the foundation for conquering Xia.
Skilled in seizing opportunities but clumsy in self-preservation, the Southern Rectifier specially petitioned the Tai Emperor.
Taking arrow bamboofrom the sea, he inscribed the words "defying orders for the people" but used only "defy orders" to confer the title of lord.
After Liewen's death, Liewu, upon hearing of this in the"Daily Records", laughed and said, "Why not promise? Grant him the right to defy orders."
Now, the bamboo tally bearing "defy orders" was being offered by calloused hands.
Jiang Lixuan watched coldly, his mind clear.
If this Cangyuan leader acknowledged the tally and permitted the defiance, he would be defying the current emperor's orders!
Regardless of others' outcomes, as the specific executor, he would be the first to suffer.
But he also dared not refuse!
Emperors Liewen and Liewu were, unsurprisingly, the current emperor's grandfather and father!
The scholar's composure shattered—his steady hand faltered, wine spilling, staining white silk and red gauze.
The scholar immediately set down the wine pot, waved his hand, and averted his eyes from the tally. "I am illiterate."
Then, as if realizing his lack of decorum, he straightened his attire and sat rigidly, eyes fixed ahead.
The woman's hand, holding out the tally, remained stubbornly suspended in the air. Her thin, bony fingers gripped the small, cracked bamboo slip tightly, her knuckles white with strain.
"The lord's grace is profound. I ask the General to return it to its rightful owner."
The scholar now felt like a goose roasting over flames, his skin and flesh burning.
He sat on pins and needles, feeling the heat of the wind and candles. His forced composure was agony. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, soaking his front and back, drenching the formal robes he had always cherished.
His voice trembled, almost pleading, "Madam… why must you press this? Yao… Yao deserted his post. By law… he should be charge