Chapter 86: The Longevity Cauldron’s Shadow

Thanks to the white-robed Holy Maiden, Shen Zhaoqing felt her recent physical condition was akin to a scrapped tractor with a fresh oil change. Though its exterior gleamed brightly, its interior remained a collection of worn-out parts, ready to fall apart at the slightest touch of the accelerator.

But at least, she could finally get out of bed.

The courtyard of Tingxue Residence was exceptionally beautiful, far surpassing the Sword Tomb watchman’s room she had previously inhabited. Small bridges arched over flowing streams, exotic flowers and rare herbs bloomed everywhere, and the air itself was permeated with a refined medicinal fragrance.

Beautiful it was, yet she could not leave.

Moreover, staying here too long seemed to be dulling her mind.

Shen Zhaoqing sprawled listlessly on a bamboo lounge chair, her eyes vacant as she stared at the sky.

The warm sunlight bathed her, dispelling some of the chill brought on by her severe loss of vitality. Instinctively, she reached for her waist, intending to pull out her Gui Niang Hu for a refreshing sip of “happy water.”

Her hand met only empty air.

Shen Zhaoqing’s movements froze, her expression instantly falling.

She remembered.

Just three days prior, when she had barely managed to sit up, Bai Zhileng had approached with a bowl of dark, murky medicinal broth, speaking in a soft, gentle voice:

“Junior Sister Zhaoqing, your internal energy is chaotic, and your vitality is depleted. These next few days of recuperation are crucial. Alcohol is a potent substance; it will hinder the medicine’s efficacy. Would you allow me to keep it safe for you for now, Senior Sister?”

Could she possibly refuse?

At the time, she was so weak she struggled to even lift a finger. She could only watch helplessly as Bai Zhileng, with two delicate jade-like fingers, effortlessly carried away the wine gourd Shen Zhaoqing regarded as her very life.

Her movements were elegant, her expression solicitous. Her methods, however, were nothing short of thievery.

Shen Zhaoqing sighed, tucking her hand back into her sleeve.

It was gone.

Idly, she rummaged within her sleeve, her fingertips suddenly brushing against a small, cool, hard object.

Shen Zhaoqing pulled it out.

It was a dark golden crystal, about the size of a moon demon’s fingernail, shaped like a vertical pupil. The crystal’s texture was neither metal nor jade, cool to the touch, and within it, a faint luminescence seemed to slowly swirl, making it appear quite extraordinary.

Just three days ago, a magnificent Azure Luan bird had flown over the Qingyun Sect’s mountain-protecting array, precisely dropping a “high-altitude delivery” onto her windowsill.

The feather-wrapped letter containing the crystal bore Yuange’s familiar, arrogant yet somewhat awkward handwriting: “This princess bestows this upon you. Wear it on your person so those white-furred vixen outside don’t trick you. That thing is called the Illusion-Shattering Demonic Eye; it can see through unclean things. Remember, you belong to this princess. Even in death, you must die by this princess’s hand!”

‘Damn this tsundere.’

Shen Zhaoqing rolled her eyes inwardly, yet she still put away the demonic eye.

After all, it was a gift from a demon princess; it shouldn’t be some roadside trinket.

Moreover, the function of “seeing through unclean things” greatly intrigued her.

She always felt that Bai Zhileng, this artificial creation, was too “clean”—so pristine, like a flawless sheet of white paper, that it made one suspect the deepest ink was hidden behind it.

Holding the Illusion-Shattering Demonic Eye in her palm, a faint, cool sensation seeped from her palm into her mind, instantly clarifying her drug-addled, somewhat drowsy head.

It seemed to actually be quite useful, refreshing and invigorating, a must-have for home and travel.

Just then, light footsteps approached from behind, accompanied by that familiar, elegant, and slightly cloying medicinal fragrance.

Without turning, Shen Zhaoqing knew who had arrived.

“Junior Sister Zhaoqing, how do you feel today? Have you been sitting outside for a while?”

Bai Zhileng’s voice was as gentle as ever.

Shen Zhaoqing lazily turned her head, seeing the Holy Maiden of Penglai approaching her with a small white jade bowl and a gentle smile.

Today, she wore a moon-white immortal gown, covered by a glazed robe embroidered with silver grass patterns. Her silver-green hair was loosely coiled, with a few strands dangling beside her cheeks, swaying gently as she moved. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the trees, casting a sacred halo around her entire being.

Beautiful, she truly was beautiful.

It was a non-aggressive beauty that made one instantly feel good about her, convinced she could never be a bad person.

“I’m alright, thank you for your concern, Senior Sister Bai,” Shen Zhaoqing replied, her voice weak.

Bai Zhileng naturally sat on a stone stool beside the lounge chair.

She offered the white jade bowl in her hand.

The bowl contained half a bowl of clear soup, emanating a soothing and calming lotus seed fragrance.

“This is a calming soup I brewed for you using Heavenly Mountain Snow Lotus Seeds and Spirit-Condensing Flower Dew. It’s beneficial for stabilizing your divine soul,” Bai Zhileng explained, gently stirring the soup with a white jade spoon. She scooped a spoonful to Shen Zhaoqing’s lips, smiling, “Come, Senior Sister will feed you.”

Not again!

An alarm blared in Shen Zhaoqing’s mind.

These intimate feeding sessions had occurred countless times over the past few days. From her initial stiffness and tingling scalp, she could now accept them without batting an eye.

There was no helping it; when under someone’s roof, one had to bow their head.

Besides, she wouldn’t lose any flesh.

Shen Zhaoqing thought to herself with self-deprecating resignation, about to open her mouth, when a sharp, icy sting suddenly erupted from the palm of the hand clutching the Illusion-Shattering Demonic Eye.

“Hiss…”

She instinctively tightened her fingers.

In that very instant, the world before her eyes twisted without warning.

The surrounding scenery remained unchanged; the small bridge and flowing water were still there, and the exotic flowers and rare herbs were still fragrant.

What had changed was Bai Zhileng before her.

The gentle, smiling woman, as beautiful as an immortal from a painting, instantly became blurred. Behind her slender figure, a massive, grotesque, and chilling phantom abruptly materialized.

It was an ancient, enormous bronze cauldron, three stories high. Its surface was covered with intricate, dazzling runes, and a desolate aura from ancient primordial times washed over them, carrying an extreme pressure that made Shen Zhaoqing’s divine soul tremble.

But this was not the most terrifying part.

The most terrifying thing was that the cauldron was not made of bronze at all. Instead, it was composed of countless spiritual herbs and immortal medicines, twisted, compressed, and melted together, along with faces of people silently wailing in extreme agony.

These figures, men and women, old and young, had merged with the peculiar herbs and vines, becoming grotesque bas-reliefs on the cauldron’s walls.

Each mouth was wide open, as if emitting the most tragic screams, yet Shen Zhaoqing heard no sound.

Fear, like the most biting ice, instantly exploded from Shen Zhaoqing’s tailbone. Her blood seemed to freeze in that moment, her limbs turned cold, and even her breathing stopped.

Longevity Cauldron!

These three words exploded like thunder in her mind.

She had once read about this ancient divine artifact in a tattered ancient text found in the Sword Tomb.

Legend had it that Penglai Immortal Palace wielded the ancient divine artifact, the “Longevity Cauldron,” capable of refining the “Nine-Reversal Soul Revival Pill” that could reverse the Five Decays of Heavenly Beings. The last line of that tattered page, scrawled in blood-red cinnabar, bore a chilling annotation:

“So-called longevity is achieved by using myriad spirits as fuel, and all living beings as medicine. Within the cauldron, there are no immortals, only wronged souls.”

At this moment, the terrifying phantom of the cauldron, formed by countless wailing figures, stood behind Bai Zhileng. And Bai Zhileng’s gentle smiling face, against the backdrop of the cauldron’s phantom, appeared incomparably eerie and sinister.

She wasn’t smiling at Shen Zhaoqing; she was looking at a perfect “main ingredient” about to be cast into the furnace.

This illusion appeared for only an instant, so fleeting it felt like a mere hallucination.

When Shen Zhaoqing blinked, the world before her eyes returned to normal.