Heavenly Soul [BL]

After being transported out from the clearing with the tree guardian, the six people found themselves in a black world. The ground was like smooth glass. Their surroundings were nothing but darkness.

“Where is this?” Jing Shui was the first to break the silence.

“This should be an illusory world where the test is administered,” replied Wei Xiang. He kept having a strange feeling, as if something was wrong, but chose to push it aside for the time being.

“What happens now?” An YaLing asked curiously.

Wei Xiang pondered for a bit before answering, “You will be chosen one by one to take the test. The rest can watch but not interfere. All those who pass can enter the dimension.”

“Hmm, simple and straightforward,” Qinghe commented.

“How do we begin?” Lei Zihua was ready to get started.

Her junior brother mumbled, “I hope I can pass…”

Suddenly, lines of red flashed under their feet. Like vermillion veins, the lines pulsed with life.

“I think it’s about to begin,” Wei Xiang informed them.

They all watched with vigilance at the ground. The red lines kept pulsing for a while before suddenly leaping up and wrapping over one of them.

“Xiao Ran!” Lei Zihua called out to her junior brother in panic.

The veins of red wrapping over the teenager pulsed sinisterly before he vanished.

The blackness around them suddenly lightened, vague scenery beginning to take shape. Faded green grass swayed balefully under their feet, replacing the glassy floor. The sky looked grey and the surroundings just as colorless.

“His test is beginning,” Wei Xiang said and everyone snapped back from their shock.

“Is this some sort of an inner realm perhaps?” An YaLing asked.

Wei Xiang shrugged. He had never had to be tested, so him knowing this much could already be considered good.

“Where’s Xiao Ran?” Lei Zihua asked anxiously, her stiff face creased with worry.

As if in reply, low growls and barks sounded from the distance. They all turned to look and finally spotted Xiao Ran. He seemed to have shrunk back to being a kid of around five, running full tilt from a pack of pitch black, dog-shaped shadows.

Lei Zihua wanted to go to him, but Jing Shui held her back. “This is his test. Sister Lei should not interfere.” Hearing this, she finally came to her senses. Yes, this was only a test. Her junior brother was not in any real danger.

The group watched with mixed expressions as the younger version of Xiao Ran was chased until he was sobbing by the snapping pack of dogs. The eyes of the hounds were white fire, trailing light as they focused on their prey. Xiao Ran was clearly terrified. His face showed panic as he frantically pumped his little legs as fast as he could.

The distance between the dogs and the little boy grew shorter and shorter, until the pack finally leapt onto him.

Everyone thought this would be the end of it. Xiao Ran had clearly failed.

But the test was not yet over.

The pack of wild dogs bit and ripped into the screaming little boy. Horrified, Qinghe and the other disciples ran to the scene, trying to help. But their hands and bodies easily passed through, as if they were but insubstantial ghosts. Even their spiritual energies were incapable of influencing anything, being sucked away the moment their powers were mobilized.

They could not interfere.

Finally, the screams subsided and the dogs slowly dissipated into black vapor. The dim world around them was replaced with the darkness they had first seen. The ground turned back to the glassy floor.

Xiao Ran had returned to his normal appearance, but was curled up unmoving on the floor with dull eyes. The test had clearly taken a psychological toll on him.

Lei Zihua went to him and gathered him on her lap, slowly stroking his back in comfort. Shuddering, Xiao Ran finally blinked. “S-Senior Sister? W-What… Where are the… Ah! The test! I failed. Senior Sister, I’m so sorry…” Xiao Ran’s face crumpled like he was going to cry.

The others quickly averted their eyes. This personal scene was not something strangers like them should witness.

“Silly boy, I’m just glad you’re okay,” Lei Zihua sounded as stern as usual, but her voice was slightly husky with relief.

“I was so scared,” Xiao Ran whispered. “I couldn’t even remember that I had cultivation. I was so scared…”

Everyone ruminated on this. This test would clearly not be that simple.

Hesitating, An YaLing inquired, “May I ask if that scene before was just an illusion, or from your memories?”

Since it had invoked such a mindless terror in Xiao Ran, it must certainly be personally connected to his fears.

“I… When I was a child, I was apparently chased and bitten by a pack of street dogs when I accidentally got separated from my family. My parents insist that it is the reason I’m so scared of dogs, but I have no recollection of that incident.”

“You must have been so afraid that you buried the memory,” Qinghe said, a kind and understanding smile curving his lips. Seeing his smile, Xiao Ran felt his heart calming. That along with his senior martial sister’s soothing finally managed to break him out of the experience.

“This test seems more difficult than we expected,” Jing Shui observed thoughtfully.

“Indeed,” An YaLing said, his complexion not looking good. He already had a hint of what his test would be like and he was not looking forward to it.

“It seems I need to teach a certain tree a lesson after I get back,” Wei Xiang spoke to himself. All those within hearing range felt a chill run up their spines at his sharp tone. His eyes glittered with barely hidden malice.

Indeed, it looked like the tree guardian had gone back on its word. This trial would not be easy.

Scarlet lines pulsed beneath their feet once again and the group stiffened.

The veins emerged out of the ground again, wrapping around An YaLing this time. He barely had the time to frantically whisper “Oh dear heavens…” before he vanished.

They looked at each other. They at least had gotten some buffer time between two trials. They could use this time to figure out what they were up against so that at least one of them could pass. Wei Xiang didn’t count, he wasn’t a disciple and getting to the serpent beast wasn’t his assignment.

The scene changed yet again.

The sky had once more turned to a sullen grey. They were in a wide valley surrounded on all sides by steep cliffs. Tall, crumbling stone pillars thrust out of the earth. The ground was blanketed by a roiling layer of…rats?

Yes, Qinghe confirmed, they were indeed rats. The rodents were colored in varying shades of black and grey as they surged and ebbed like the waves and tides of the ocean.

And at the center, with a horrified expression on his face, stood An YaLing.

He looked like a lanky underfed teenager, the graceful lines of his face gaunt and sickly. Dirt smudged his skin and his tattered clothes hung loosely on his frame like moth-eaten drapes.

He looked down with shock frozen on his face as he saw the rodents covering his feet and chewing at the hem of his pants. With an undignified shriek, he ran, flinging off the rats clinging to him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK…!” he kept chanting in an uncharacteristically high-pitched voice as he fled. He could feel his feet squishing rat bodies as he dashed forward. The chittering and squeaking of the rodents followed him unceasingly no matter how much he ran.

The waves of rats seemed unending. He was unable to find even one place clear of them.

Red beady eyes glinted greedily, small whiskers twitching with eagerness as the rats did their best to climb up and cover him.

An YaLing was beyond panicked. He constantly cursed and screeched, his usual dignified and gentle self nowhere to be found.

The others watching this scene had no idea whether to laugh or cry. This must clearly be related to some sort of deep emotional scar for him if it appeared in the trial like this, but this scene was just too outrageous.

But their urge to laugh soon vanished when the rats managed to completely cover An YaLing. He looked like a teetering heap of rodents as he flailed about trying to shed them.

Sharp and shrill screams sounded out as the rats began biting into him with their teeth, devouring him mercilessly.

The scene soon faded, taking away the churning waves of rodents with it. An YaLing was slumped on the floor, his lips trembling and his face whiter than paper.

No one said a word.

“Well,” An YaLing finally opened his mouth and said in a shaking voice, “That was terrible.”

No one disagreed.

But he was after all the head disciple of the Drifting Clouds Sect. He was made of sterner stuff. Taking in a deep breath, he stood up and said, “I’m sorry I failed the trial.”

“None of us blame you, Brother An. So please don’t be hard on yourself,” Qinghe pacified.

The others nodded in agreement and An YaLing’s expression finally eased.

“Did you notice anything strange or unusual during the trial?” Wei Xiang asked. He wanted to know what type of test this was. It clearly wasn’t a simulation of heart demons or the like. Rather than the carefully constructed scenarios brought on by heart demons that tempted cultivators with what they desired the most, these scenarios were too focused on the fears and were somewhat indistinct.

An YaLing seriously gave the question some thought. He waded through the painful experience and tried to see past his fear and panic.

“Maybe there is something…” he said uncertainly. “When I was running, I saw flashes of vermillion at the corner of my vision. It was unlike the rats’ eye color and it was from above. But whenever my gaze turned in that direction, there was nothing. It might just be my imagination though.”

A flash of vermillion? Wasn’t it the same color as those lines that pulsed in the ground?

Everyone looked down thoughtfully.

As if sensing their thoughts, the veins appeared again. This time they wrapped around a surprised Jing Shui and took him away.

Qinghe was somewhat curious. He could guess that his fears would have something to do with the imperial family. But Qinghe also felt dread on behalf of his friend. This would not be pleasant, not that any of their fears were.

The scene changed, the black expanse fading into a dimly lit room. The room was spacious and one wall consisted completely of painted paper doors. The backlit silhouettes of people walking silently on the other side of the paper could be seen.

The faint flickering light of the lamps cast the inside of the room in a gloomy glow. The air was thick and heavy with the smoke from expensive incense. The wavering lamplight reflected off the grand gold decorations covering the walls, the play of contrasting light and shadow making them look especially imposing.

Despite the size of the room, it felt stifling and suffocating.

At the center of the room was a well-crafted wooden table. On it were scrolls, loose sheaves of paper, a brush and an inkstone. They all looked to be of excellent quality. Sitting at the table and draped in layer upon layer of heavy robes was a hunched over figure. He looked like a child on the verge of becoming a teenager. The child looked lonely and afraid as he diligently copied characters from the scrolls onto the paper. His face was dripping with tears, but he dared not let even a single sound escape.

As he moved the brush, faint clanking sounds issued from his wrists. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed that his wrists and ankles were burdened with exquisitely engraved golden shackles, the thick chains trailing from them almost hidden in the folds of his yellow robes.

This pitiful child was Jing Shui.

Seeing this scene made Qinghe’s heart hurt for his friend.

As Jing Shui continued writing, one of the heavy chains snagged at the edge of the inkstone and sent it crashing to the ground. Startled, Jing Shui gasped softly, then closed his hands over his mouth as if wishing he could suck back the sound and looked fearfully at the wall of paper doors.

Sure enough, the shadows of the wandering figures had all paused. They hadn’t reacted to the crash of the inkstone, but rather to the small gasp.

The shadowy figures suddenly rushed forward and ripped open the paper doors, flooding into the room. Their images were dark and indistinct, only their white eyes and whiter teeth visible as they surrounded Jing Shui.

Shadowy hands with long fingers reached towards him as cultured and pompous voices constantly admonished, “Useless child, why can’t you sit still and learn your lessons properly. Do your duty. Learn to be silent and obedient. Sit and study. Don’t you dare run off!”

The trembling child clamped his mouth shut, his eyes open wide in terror. The reaching hands closed around his throat and cut off his air. Jing Shui had no choice but to open his mouth and gasp for breath, but the hands squeezing his neck did not let off.

“Be quiet, stay silent, don’t speak, don’t laugh, or we’ll sew your lips together!”

“Be obedient! Sit still! Don’t you dare move or we’ll hack your limbs off”

Despite the feeling of choking, Jing Shui tried his best to stifle his cries and gasps, an endless stream of tears trickling over his face. He forced his thrashing limbs to remain still. His eyes eventually rolled up and his face turned blue. The figures strangling him finally dissipated.

The scene vanished, the black space returning to its original form.

On the floor, Jing Shui laid silent and still, his face still awash with tears. Qinghe walked up to him and sat down. After laboring to curb his instinctive aversion to touch, Qinghe slowly reached out a hand and patted his friend’s back. “It’s okay. All of that was in the past. They can’t hurt you anymore. Even if they try, I won’t let them. I promised, remember?”

Jing Shui slowly stirred. Though his gaze was dull, he still nodded. Yes, he would never have to return to that horrible place ever again.

Combined with Qinghe’s soothing voice washing over him and his comforting touch, Jing Shui’s heart slowly calmed.

Thankfully, there had been nothing obvious enough to indicate that that place had been the imperial palace, so at least the secret of Jing Shui’s identity was safe.

No one commented on what they saw, politely keeping their questions about each other to themselves.

“Rather than a heart demon, it seems more like a nightmare,” Wei Xiang finally stated his observation.

Nodding, Jing Shui said in a thick voice, “Yes, it was just as nonsensical and disorienting as a nightmare. I didn’t even remember that I had cultivation or try to reason out the situation. It felt more like a vague manifestation of fears rather than a specific situation that I was afraid of. It really was like a nightmare.”

Qinghe frowned and voiced a suspicion. “Do you think it’s a…Nightmare Parasite?”

Astonished gazes greeted him.

“But weren’t they supposed to be exterminated long ago?” Xiao Ran said uncertainly.

An YaLing refuted in a thoughtful tone, “Yes, but it is not impossible for one or two to have slipped through and survived.”

“This is getting dangerous,” Lei Zihua remarked.

The red veins beneath their feet pulsed again.