Into The Sea

The sky was high and clear, a few white cranes flying through the clouds, creating waves of white.

A woman with hair reaching her waist sat motionless at the highest point of Qianyun Peak, her eyes closed peacefully as if asleep. After a while, a bluebird flew from the clouds, landing on her shoulder. Lan Wu’s long lashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes, gazing through the misty clouds below.

On the stone path leading to Jianzhi Courtyard, two young women wearing Haochen Mountain student robes were walking. The taller one was smiling, holding a gyrfalcon in her arms, and turning her head to talk to the white-clad girl with a sword on her back.

Lan Wu lowered her gaze, focusing on the quiet, elegant figure in white. Seeing a smile on her face, Lan Wu couldn’t help but smile as well.

The girls walked further away, their figures gradually disappearing into the mist.

Then, a familiar voice sounded in her ear, “Do you miss those times?”

Lan Wu paused, waving her hand. The green mountains and rivers around her vanished, leaving her alone in the vast, white spiritual sea, sitting at a low table piled with bamboo scrolls.

She hesitated before answering, “It’s funny, but those five years at Haochen Mountain were actually the happiest time of my life.”

Although the person refused to reveal their identity, Lan Wu had already guessed the truth. This place where time seemed to blur, she had flipped through hundreds of bamboo scrolls and, in between, had rambled on about her experiences over the years.

Although most of the time, it felt like she was talking to herself.

After a moment of silence, the voice spoke again, “You’ve been sitting here for a long time. When do you plan to solve the final formation?”

Lan Wu closed the book spread out on the table and said frankly. “I can’t solve the last one.” She lowered her eyes, focusing on the cover of the book, where the words “Nine Palaces” were neatly written, the starting point for all formations.

“You told me that all formations, whether they are based on the five elements or the eight trigrams, are derived from the nine palaces of Kun, Qian, Kan, Gen, Zhen, Xun, Li, Kun, and Dui. No matter how they change, they all come back to the same origin. Kun represents death, Gen represents life. As long as I find the formation’s core, I can break it. But, she paused, her voice low, “in the final formation, I can’t find anything.”

“So, you’re giving up?”

Lan Wu shook her head. “For so long, I couldn’t find the formation’s core, and after reading through all the bamboo scrolls, I couldn’t find a similar formation either. But in reality, the final one isn’t a formation at all.”

She said seriously, “The eighty-first formation doesn’t exist. The final one is actually an illusion—the simplest kind. You’ve blinded my five senses, making me see false images and hear false sounds, just like the mirage I created earlier. But in truth, I could have left as soon as I solved the eightieth formation.”

As she finished speaking, she seemed to hear a soft laugh. The person asked, “When did you figure it out?”

“Not long ago,” Lan Wu replied. “Over the years, you occasionally taught me illusions, didn’t you? Wasn’t it all preparation for this final ‘formation’?”

“I thought it would take you much longer to realize,” the woman’s voice grew gentler. “It seems you’re not as dumb as I thought.”

Lan Wu pressed her lips together, gazing at the unchanging white expanse before her. Finally, she mustered the courage to place her fingertips on her forehead and asked cautiously, “Is this okay?”

The voice hummed in agreement. “Of course.”

Surging blue spiritual energy flooded into her forehead, and her eyes felt as if they had been covered with a layer of ice, but soon, they warmed again.

In an instant, various sounds flooded her ears. The sound of waves crashing nearby, the salty sea breeze brushing her cheeks, and the cheerful chirping of birds in the lush forest.

Lan Wu closed her eyes, her heart suddenly pounding, her body stiff with tension. After a long moment, she slowly opened her eyes and met another pair of clear, black eyes.

A beautiful woman sat across from her, smiling at her. “This is the true appearance of your spiritual sea.”

Lan Wu stared at her for a moment, asking in a hoarse voice, “Have you been watching me like this all this time?”

“Yes,” Chu Chunhan replied with a smile. “Watching you work tirelessly, forcing yourself to read all the scrolls, working hard, failing again and again, and then sulking in frustration. It was quite entertaining.”

Lan Wu blinked, a smile tugging at her lips, but her eyes gradually reddened. “I’m not a genius,” she muttered, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “Why are you here? Back then, didn’t you…?”

She couldn’t bring herself to say “self-destructed your spiritual core.” Chu Chunhan understood her meaning, however, and said easily, “Otherwise, how do you think you survived being so close to me at the time?”

She explained, “I separated a strand of my soul. This strand carried all my memories and a portion of my cultivation. Although it protected you, it was severely damaged and could only sleep in your spiritual sea.” She sighed. “Who would have thought you would be in danger again? When your mermaid pearl was removed, your spiritual sea was thrown into chaos, and I was awakened.”

Lan Wu felt even more guilty. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? This isn’t your fault.” Chu Chunhan reached out, her cool fingertips brushing Lan Wu’s cheek. “Now, it’s time for you to leave this place.”

Lan Wu was overwhelmed by her touch, her breathing becoming shallow. “What about you?” She asked carefully, “Will you stay here?”

Chu Chunhan lowered her gaze and fell silent.

Lan Wu was startled, a sudden unease gripping her. “You’ll stay here, won’t you?”

The woman looked at her gently. “Within those eighty formations lies all the remaining cultivation I have. Each time you solved a formation, that cultivation merged into your body.”

Lan Wu paused, her eyes widening as she stared at her.

“Lan Wu,” she whispered, “this power is useless to me now, but it can be of some small use to you. I could have given it to you directly, but I wanted you to learn how to use it. That way, after I’m gone, you’ll have a skill to protect yourself.”

“No,” Lan Wu woke up, grabbing her hand. “Don’t leave. You… you, that’s right! Aunt, Aunt has always wanted to revive you…”

Chu Chunhan nodded. “With those soul fragments, she might succeed. But the person brought back won’t be the Chu Chunhan of the past.”

Lan Wu stared at her, tears slowly falling from her eyes.

Chu Chunhan’s robes began to fade, silently disintegrating into ash, but she smiled warmly. “Lan Wu, don’t be sad. I’m just a remnant of the past, a fragment of a soul. The real me died long ago. Now, it’s just that these memories are disappearing along with this wisp of soul.”

“No,” Lan Wu choked, shaking her head desperately. “Please don’t go… don’t leave me!”

“Lan Wu…”

“Don’t!”

Chu Chunhan sighed, wiping away her tears. “All these years, seeing you grow up well has made all the effort I put into protecting your life worthwhile.”

Lan Wu gasped for breath, her eyes red as she looked at her. “If… if back then… you hadn’t used your cultivation to save me, could you have killed him?”

Chu Chunhan remained silent, and Lan Wu, understanding everything, lowered her head, her shoulders shaking as she choked out, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Lan Wu,” seeing her crying uncontrollably, Chu Chunhan sighed, helpless. “After all this time, why have you never called me that?”

“You don’t like it,” Lan Wu stammered. “You don’t like it, so I won’t call you that. I didn’t want to upset you. Please, I’ll listen to you, don’t go…”

“I wasn’t upset.” Chu Chunhan cupped Lan Wu’s tear-streaked face, looking at her earnestly. “Lan Wu, you’ve never done anything wrong. Even if you weren’t my daughter, I would have gone back to save you. That was my own path.”

She said, word by word, “I never hated you.”

Lan Wu trembled, looking at her through tear-filled eyes. After a long time, she managed to squeeze out two words. “Mother?”

Chu Chunhan hummed, smiling gently. “Good child,” she said, her hands fading as she pulled the trembling woman into her arms, comforting her. “Don’t be sad, don’t be afraid. When you open your eyes again, everything will be alright.”

She closed her eyes, her cheek gently resting on Lan Wu’s forehead. “If you can, please stop Yueyao for me.”

Thud.

Bare feet landed on the cold jade floor. Having not moved for so long, she had to lean against the wall to move forward. After passing through a barrier, her body suddenly fell into the water, but she couldn’t transform into a mermaid. She could only slowly walk out of the empty hall, squinting at the two figures floating in the distance.

As if hearing something, the silver-haired mermaid turned her head first. The next moment, her blue eyes widened in disbelief. “Lan Wu?”

Lan Wu opened her mouth, struggling to form words. “Sis…ter…”

The bone talisman in her hand fell into the water. Lan Yuan’s eyes reddened, and she rushed over like a gust of wind. Lan Wu staggered back a few steps, instinctively catching her, and heard the woman’s soft sobs.

“Why did it take you so long to wake up?” Lan Yuan choked out. “It’s been too long, Lan Wu. You’ve been asleep for too long. I thought you would never wake up…”

Lan Wu blinked, a little dazed. “How long… was I asleep?”

Lan Yuan tightened her embrace, her voice trembling. “Fifteen years.”