Ye Xuan's This Life

"Ah!"

Ye Xuan let out a miserable scream, his voice skyward, sharp and wretched.

This was unlike him.

This was not a sound Ye Xuan would make.

Yet he made it.

A mouthful of black blood burst from his lips, dark and thick, almost like ink, carrying the searing heat of its passage. It splattered across the white deck of the boat, leaving behind a shocking, deep stain.

Ye Xuan's eyes rolled back, and his body fell rigidly backward.

"Husband!!"

Ying'er was terrified out of her wits by the scene. Her legs gave way, and she almost flung herself toward him, crying and shouting, tears already falling before she could even form the words. "Husband, what's wrong?! Don't scare me..."

But another figure moved faster than her—far faster.

Wu Lingfeng appeared behind Ye Xuan the very moment he collapsed.

She had been watching him silently all along, every nerve already tense and waiting from the instant Ye Xuan had frozen.

She caught his falling body steadily, cradling his weight in her arms, and looked down at his pallid face. A hint of panic, a loss of composure she hadn't even noticed in herself, flickered deep in her eyes.

"Ye Xuan!"

She called his name. No answer.

"Ye Xuan!"

She called again. Still nothing.

Without another word, she pressed her fingers to his wrist, probing his pulse and energy flow. Then her expression turned grim.

Chaos.

Complete chaos.

The energy inside Ye Xuan churned like a flood out of control, surging wildly through his meridians with no rhyme or reason. Each strike of spiritual force seemed ready to tear his meridians apart from within. This was no ordinary case of qi deviation—at worst, that would only mean a loss of control over one's energy. But what Ye Xuan was suffering went deeper. It was his very soul that was the problem.

That was what truly alarmed Wu Lingfeng.

Ye Xuan's soul essence was violently fluctuating. This wasn't just a side effect of the energy rampage; it was the soul itself writhing in some kind of agonizing, tearing vibration.

As she gently probed with her divine sense, she felt the terrifying instability—like an ancient, sealed rock wall that was now being pounded from within by some immense force, shattering into flying debris, filling the air with dust and rubble.

"Damn it."

Wu Lingfeng clenched her jaw, and a barely restrained murderous intent flared in her eyes.

The Ninth Heaven Sacred Ground.

She didn't know what those words truly meant. All she knew was that whatever it was, it must be connected to that golden war vessel.

Taking a deep breath, she suppressed the rising fury and spoke in a voice calm yet commanding, the kind that instinctively steadied those around her:

"Ying'er, stop crying. Now is not the time for tears!"

Ying'er sniffled, her eyes red, as she looked up at Wu Lingfeng.

"Bring the flying boat down," Wu Lingfeng said, her tone cool and forceful. "Find a hidden spot to land. As fast as you can!"

"Right… right! I understand!"

Ying'er wiped the tears from her face forcefully, took a deep breath, forced herself to steady her nerves, and fumbled with the controls of the flying boat, guiding it in a rapid descent toward the endless, rugged mountains below.

Wu Lingfeng said nothing more.

She simply maintained the posture of holding Ye Xuan, motionless, pressing her palm against his back, no longer holding back even a trace of her Tribulation-Transcending Stage vast spiritual power as it surged into his body. Against the wildly rampaging energy coursing through him, she suppressed it step by step, forcibly intercepting the shocks that were trying to tear through his meridians, protecting his heart meridian, guarding that heart which still stubbornly beat, though unevenly.

Her brows were deeply furrowed, her gaze fixed on Ye Xuan’s pale face, watching the tightly knit furrow between his brows and the faint trace of blood that seeped from the corner of his eye—so subtle it was nearly imperceptible. There was something in her expression, something hidden deep within that she rarely revealed to anyone, now breaking free uncontrollably.

The flying boat shattered the clouds, plummeting swiftly toward the desolate mountains as the roaring wind screamed around them.

Deep within Ye Xuan’s mind, beyond the cracked door, a segment of memory began to surge toward him, carrying overwhelming pain and weight—slow, merciless, and with no regard for resistance.

The flying boat landed on a barren backslope of a wild mountain, where jagged rocks and thorny brambles stretched in every direction, without any trace of human presence.

Wu Lingfeng sealed off the surrounding miles with an impenetrable barrier formation, then personally carved out a cave in the rock face before heaving Ye Xuan inside.

Ying'er lit a campfire with trembling hands. The flames crackled and hissed, casting shifting orange-red light that made the cave’s interior flicker between brightness and shadow.

Ye Xuan lay on a stone platform spread with soft furs, his eyes tightly shut.

But even closed, those eyes were more distressing than ever.

His brows were knitted fiercely, as if even unconsciousness could not ease the furrow between them. His body twitched now and then, emitting a low, muffled groan, as if suffering some invisible torment that grew heavier with each passing moment. His lips moved, producing indistinct, broken whispers—a voice raspy and fragmented.

"Not… that’s not me…"

"Liars… all of you are liars…"

"Master… little sister… why did you…"

That last sentence drifted softly through the cave, carrying a kind of dazed, childlike bewilderment. It struck the stone walls, the warmth of the fire, and the chests of the two people guarding him.

Wu Lingfeng stayed by the stone platform, her back straight but unable to hide the weariness and weight etched into her brow.

To forcibly suppress the chaotic energy surging inside Ye Xuan and protect his faltering soul, she had poured her own origin power into him without reserve from the moment the flying boat landed, until the campfire had burned for half the night before she barely managed to pull him back from the brink of danger.

The price she paid was the backlash of her Profound Dragon Art, which had silently returned now.

A needle-like pain threaded through her meridians. Her fingers tightened slightly, pressed against her knees, the knuckles turning white.

But she did not move. She did not reveal a thing. She simply watched Ye Xuan’s bloodless face, not daring to blink.

"Brother Wu…"

Ying'er’s voice came from the corner.

She was huddled by the fire, hugging her knees, her eyes swollen like two ripe peaches, tears streaming down her chin, soaking the hem of her dress, though she seemed utterly unaware.

She just stared blankly at the man on the stone platform—a man she no longer recognized—at a loss, utterly bewildered. "Husband… what has happened to him?"

Wu Lingfeng did not answer immediately.

Ying'er bit her lower lip, her voice trembling with tears, yet she forced herself to ask the questions that weighed on her heart: "Those people said... 'Abandoned by the Nine Heavens,' 'died in the Fallen Immortal Lake'... What does that mean? My Husband has always been fine, how could he possibly... Did they mistake him for someone else? Did they..."

"Ying'er."

Wu Lingfeng interrupted her.

It wasn't coldness, but rather a kind of almost gentle restraint—as if she couldn't bear to let Ying'er keep deceiving herself in that direction.

"I've been thinking about that too." She paused for a moment before speaking slowly, her voice hushed: "I once investigated the life he lived in this mortal world. His file said it clearly: orphaned, parents dead from a plague, raised by the kindness of the village, later noticed by an elder of the Azure Cloud Sect and brought back to the sect."

She halted again.

"That background... it's far too clean."

Clean as a deliberately trimmed sheet of paper, with every stray edge neatly cut away, leaving behind only the most concise, unverifiable account.

Ying'er's eyes slowly widened.

"But... but my Husband himself said he was an orphan... He would never lie to us..."

"I didn't say he was the one lying to you."

Wu Lingfeng shifted her gaze to Ye Xuan's face, her tone carrying a chilling sharpness:

"Memories can be altered."

Her voice was calm, yet that calmness itself was deeply unsettling: "For a behemoth like the Nine Heavens Sacred Land, which has passed down its legacy for tens of thousands of years, enchanting a mortal's soul, planting a set of tailor-made false memories, and erasing all traces of his past and present origins—that’s nothing more than a trivial effort."