Chapter 6: Nirvana

The ten lifetimes of trial and tribulation, which felt like an eternity, were but a fleeting moment to the denizens of the Underworld and the other four realms.

With the ten trials concluded and Meng Po mysteriously absent, Hozuki personally waited by the Rebirth Pool. In the distance, the sea of spider lilies bloomed in full, their red petals so vibrant they seemed to drip with blood. Without leaves, the flowers swayed in the breeze, creating a sound like a mournful, desperate recitation of some forgotten verse. Even the residents of the Underworld were easily bewitched by this melody.

Those from outside the Underworld could not hear this sound; instead, they heard the voices of those they missed most. For those arriving to be reincarnated, encountering the blooming lilies was both a blessing and a curse: a blessing to hear the voices of their hearts, but a curse, for to become lost in that longing was to risk never being reborn at all.

As a breeze stirred the recitation, a familiar figure approached the pool. Yan Yunqing, hair disheveled and clad in white, eyes vacant and hollow, was stopped by Hozuki. Dressed in pale grey robes adorned with ink-wash bamboo that appeared so lifelike it seemed painted on, Hozuki looked unusually refined, shedding his typical miserly demeanor. With a look of relief, he offered the final bowl of broth to Yan Yunqing. Yan took it blankly and drank it down in one gulp; the faint glimmer in the corners of his eyes vanished in an instant.

Hozuki watched, momentarily stunned, wondering what had happened. Seeing Yan Yunqing’s consciousness return, his gaze no longer lost, Hozuki suppressed his surprise, bowed slightly, and said, "Hozuki greets Lord Yama. The succession ceremony has begun; please, follow me."

Yan Yunqing remained expressionless, nodded, and followed Hozuki away from the Rebirth Pool.

The Ghost Sovereign, who had been concealing his presence, now emerged. He stood silently by the pool, watching Yan Yunqing’s retreating back. After ten cycles of reincarnation, he felt an unfamiliar emotion taking root: deep-seated resentment. Yan Yunqing had consumed the final bowl of broth, and the memories of his past lives and trials were now wiped clean. Yet, the Sovereign remained bound by them. What had once seemed easy to promise now proved impossible to endure, yet he had no choice but to accept it.

He had long grown accustomed to that person by his side. Ten cycles, ten fresh starts—Yan Yunqing’s trials were over, but the Sovereign’s had only just begun.

"Long time no see. How fare you, Sovereign?" A voice tinged with a smile sounded beside him. The Sovereign glanced sideways to see Ksitigarbha, the Bodhisattva who long resided in the Underworld. The inner turmoil of the Sovereign calmed slightly.

True to his Buddhist nature, Ksitigarbha possessed a tranquility the Sovereign could never emulate. "Well enough, and not so well," the Sovereign replied.

Ksitigarbha stood barefoot upon two red lotuses, holding a precious orb in his left hand and a khakkhara staff in his right. Clad in a kasaya, surrounded by the glow of Buddha, he stood in stark contrast to the desolate Sovereign. The Sovereign was dressed in snow-white, sorrow-cloud silk embroidered with flowing patterns, a strand of silver bells at his waist, his hair held by a simple white jade pin. Such understated luxury should have enhanced his handsome features, but it only served to amplify the despondency radiating from him, making one’s heart ache with the weight of unseen sorrows.

Ksitigarbha recited, "Compassionate Buddha, Amitabha," before offering counsel: "Sovereign, heed my words. You and he were never destined to be together in this life. Do not harbor obsession; obsession invites inner demons. Should a heart-demon find a crack, the consequences would be unimaginable!"

"Enough, enough. Every time I hear you, it’s no different from chanting sutras. I have noted your words. I have matters to attend to, so I shall take my leave." The Sovereign waved his hand and vanished.

Ksitigarbha smiled silently. "Compassionate Buddha, Amitabha." He prayed that the Buddha might protect the Sovereign through this trial, for the Sovereign was a great variable in the cosmos; should he falter, all living things would suffer.

The Sovereign arrived at a remote corner of the Underworld where he had hidden the Mirage Clan during his last trip to the mortal realm. With the affair of the Mirage Pavilion settled, he needed to confirm their status. He had placed the Mirage City within a cave, hidden behind a barrier that no ordinary being could penetrate.

Inside, the cave was dark and gloomy, save for a sliver of light from a small opening. Haishi lay on a stone bed, brow furrowed in a struggle, murmuring in his sleep, showing faint signs of waking. The Sovereign quickly formed a seal, casting layers of restrictions upon Haishi. When the time was right, he would awaken, and by then, the Sovereign would have returned.

The Sovereign was but a stray soul; the physical body he had condensed did not belong to the five realms and was a violation of the Heavenly Dao. Thus, he had known from birth that a trial awaited him. His red thread of fate was different—a rare, hollow one. According to ancient texts, those with such a thread were not only destined to be apart from their fated ones, but it also signaled that their death trial was approaching and inescapable.

He knew this well, which was why he had sent the Mirage Pavilion to another dimension—a place the Heavenly Dao could not reach.

The phoenix feathers of the Heavenly Phoenix Clan, shed after their rebirth through fire, were said to possess the power to bring the dead back to life. The Sovereign knew this well, having once been commissioned by the clan to craft a legendary weapon. At the time, his price was to witness their rebirth and receive two phoenix feathers. Since then, whenever the clan sought his aid, those feathers were always part of the bargain. Though he did not fear death, he could not help but plan; after all, no one enjoys being told they are destined to die.

Long ago, he had begun his plan, which he called "Nirvana." He had told no one, orchestrating a death that would deceive the Heavenly Dao itself. Only by deceiving the heavens could he die and be reborn, allowing him to continue living.

If there was one thing he had not foreseen, it was meeting Yan Yunqing—his fated trial.

Sentimentality was for the moment. Now that Yunqing had returned from his trials and forgotten everything, the Sovereign had to plan carefully. For instance, he could take this opportunity to completely reshape his image in Yunqing’s heart.