Chapter 292. All That Was Buried for Quiet

Linyue’s breath caught. This was worse than she had imagined. Her body didn’t move. She was still standing, eyes shut, Shu Mingye’s arms wrapped gently but firmly around her from behind. But within her spiritual sense, she was trembling.

Beneath the wall… were souls. Countless of them. Trapped in the silvery lattice. Faces drifting through the cracks between those chains like phantoms beneath water.

It wasn’t just an array. It was a prison.

No, worse. It was a grave.

Shu Mingye’s warmth pressed into her back, grounding her, but it couldn’t stop the chill that bloomed deep inside her chest. Her spiritual thread pulled back instinctively but she forced it forward, just a little longer, just to see. To understand.

In the center of the web… was a core. A crystal.  It was a heart. Or something like that. It pulsed slowly, surrounded by blackened veins of corrupted energy. Thick, choking, and binding. The heart didn’t beat with life. It beat with suffering. With endless, slow-consuming pain. And it was humming. Whispering.

Linyue staggered backward. Shu Mingye caught her instantly.

“What is it?” he asked, voice low and steady.

Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her spiritual sense still lingered in that underground nightmare, caught in the endless shimmer of chained souls. There were hundreds. Thousands, maybe.

She understood now. The colorful array wasn’t just a seal. It was a cage. A prison, holding back the corruption, keeping the land inside the walls safe. But the cost—

The cost was them. The faces in the web, the silent screams. They were cultivators. People who had given everything. Their bodies. Their souls. Merged together, forged into that pulsing crystal heart, just to keep the darkness at bay. To keep the corruption from spreading. To trap it all beneath the surface. Beneath bright colors and glowing array. It wasn’t beautiful. It was horrifying.

Before Linyue knew it, tears rolled down her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to cry. But it came anyway. Quiet, sudden, and too much. They had chosen this. They had given up their lives. And they were still trapped here. Still suffering. Her feet remained on solid ground. She hadn’t moved an inch. Yet her mind had fallen far below. Beneath the earth, beneath the wall. Beneath the stories and histories and everything they thought they knew.

A crystal heart. Born not of stone or energy, but of people. Of cultivators. Of lives.

Then she also understood. The missing pieces. The reason why so many ancient cultivation techniques, arrays, and martial arts had vanished. They weren’t forgotten by chance. Each secret, each skill, each masterpiece had been surrendered by hundreds, maybe thousands of cultivators long ago. All so this barrier could hold. All so the wall could stand. They had disappeared along with the ones who created them, buried beneath stone and time.

A quiet voice pulled her back. “Pie, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Shu Mingye’s voice was soft, low, threaded with worry that pierced through the haze in her mind.

Linyue opened her eyes slowly. The shimmering blur of tears cleared just enough for her to see him. Without hesitation, she stepped into his arms and held him tightly. “I’m not alright,” she whispered.

His hand moved to her hair, slow and steady, stroking through the strands as though he could smooth away everything she carried. “Where does it hurt?” he murmured.

She shook her head. “It’s not my body.” When she lifted her gaze to his, her eyes were still wet, still trembling with the weight of what she had seen. Her voice broke into something softer, almost fragile.

“That array… it won’t last.”

She could feel it. Deep under the ground. The crystal inside was fading. Its energy was dim and slow. Like it was barely hanging on. And the souls… those countless souls trapped inside, it was getting harder for them to hold on. They were growing dim. Thinning. Like they were dying all over again.

Shu Mingye’s jaw tightened. “You mean the colorful one?” He reached up and gently wiped the tears off her cheeks with his thumb.

Linyue nodded. “It’s holding everything back. The corrupted souls. The dark energy. It keeps them from spreading inside, from turning more people into monsters.”

Shu Mingye frowned. “And if the array breaks…”

Linyue took a shaky breath. “Then the same disaster from four hundred years ago will happen again.” And this time, she didn’t think they could stop it.

Shu Mingye’s frowned deepened. He looked serious for a moment, clearly thinking hard. Then he asked slowly, “Pie, what about the spiritual energy we’ve been pouring into the array? What does it actually do?”

Linyue sniffled. “I’m not sure. But maybe… maybe it’s for the tainted.”

He gently wrapped his arms tighter around her. “The tainted?”

She nodded against his chest. “Just like Yun Qi said… those souls are craving for spiritual energy. Maybe giving them a little regularly keeps them calm. Keeps them from fighting back.”

Shu Mingye rested his chin lightly on her head. “Then we’ll find a way to stop it. Together.”

Linyue’s voice was soft. “Let’s find Master.”

He nodded. “Alright.”

He still didn’t let go. Still held her close, still stroked her head like she might break if he stopped. Linyue, with her face pressed into his chest, wiped her tears quietly. She rubbed her face up and down his robes.

Shu Mingye raised an eyebrow and chuckled lowly. “Pie, are you trying to seduce me in this situation?”

Linyue tilted her head up. “No. I’m wiping my snot on you.”

For a moment he just stared. Then he burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking. “Does that also come in package?”

Linyue gave him the sweetest smile, dimples showing. “Yes. No refunds.”

He pressed his forehead to hers with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. I’ll take the whole package. Snot and all.”

A soft giggle slipped past her lips, breaking the heaviness that had weighed her down. His laughter, her smile—it was ridiculous. And yet, it was exactly what she needed to breathe again.

Hand in hand, they walked together toward the second gate. Beyond the wall, the world waited in an eerie stillness. No demons stirred. No wind brushed past. Not even a leaf shifted in the distance.

Linyue’s heart quickened. Not from fear, but from certainty. Her master was here. Somewhere nearby. That had to be why the usual chaos beyond the southern wall had gone completely quiet.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ll try using my spiritual sense again.”

“Alright,” Shu Mingye nodded, gently squeezing her hand.

Linyue closed her eyes and prepared to release her spiritual energy when a sudden howl echoed behind them. Her eyes flew open. She turned around quickly.

“Fluffy?” she called.

The white dog trotted toward them, tail wagging like it had just finished a long, noble mission or maybe a nap.

Shu Mingye groaned. “Didn’t it stay behind in the palace with your three noisy companions?”

Linyue shrugged. “Apparently not.”

Fluffy let out a loud sneeze, as if offended by being left out.

Shu Mingye muttered, “Great. Now we have a third wheel with fur.”

Linyue laughed softly. “Fluffy, do you know where Master is?”

Fluffy lifted its nose, sniffed the air, then tilted its head to the right.

Shu Mingye raised a brow. “Huh. Maybe it is useful after all.”

Linyue leaned down slightly. “Can you show us the way?”

Fluffy wagged its tail proudly like it had been waiting for this exact moment its whole life, then trotted forward confidently.

Shu Mingye narrowed his eyes at the dog’s fluffy backside. “Does it actually know something… or is it just pretending?”

Linyue tilted her head, pretending to consider seriously. “Hard to say. I still remember the swamp.”

Shu Mingye immediately tensed. “There’s no swamp around here, right?”

Her lips curved into a sweet, mischievous smile. “Who knows?”

That smile was dangerous. It promised nothing but disaster. But she was already tugging him along, her hand warm against his.

“Let’s go,” she said brightly, as if they weren’t about to follow a possibly lying dog into who-knew-what.

He groaned but moved anyway. “Look at me. I’m walking into trouble willingly now.”

Linyue grinned. “It also comes with the package.” She kept tugging him forward, chasing after the proudly waddling furball.

He sighed in defeat, dragging his feet just enough to make a point. “Why are there so many extras in this package? Does the dog count too?”

Linyue glanced back, eyes glinting with mischief. “Regretting it already?”

He pulled her closer, leaned in near her ear, and said with a soft smile, “Never. But if that dog leads us to a swamp, I’m naming our firstborn Swampy.”

Linyue laughed softly and nodded. “Swampy it is.”

They followed Fluffy across the dark, empty wasteland. Night had fallen completely, but the soft white glow around the dog lit up the path like a walking lantern. The ground beneath them was cracked and uneven, and Shu Mingye held her close to make sure she didn’t trip. They hadn’t walked long before Fluffy came to a stop in front of a huge, withered tree. The tree was twisted and crooked, like something out of a spooky storybook Song Meiyu would read before bed and then regret immediately.

Fluffy turned around to look at them, then gave a loud snort as if to say, We’re here, obviously.

Shu Mingye looked around. “Alright. I don’t see anyone.”

Linyue glanced at the eerie tree. “Well… at least it’s not a swamp.”

Fluffy sneezed in what sounded suspiciously like an insult.

Shu Mingye raised an eyebrow. “So… he’s not here, is he?”

Linyue stared at the ground thoughtfully. “Maybe he was.”

Just then, Fluffy’s ears twitched, and it suddenly lifted its head and let out a long, echoing howl. The sound hadn’t even finished when footsteps came from behind them.