After Death, I Became My Shijie’s Palm-Sized Birdie – Chapter 26

Madness

She refuses to face despair while awake.

Wen Qiwu stood frozen in the cage, her mind nearly blank.

            

She had considered that her shijie¹‘s old wounds hadn’t fully healed, that her condition might be poor—but she had never imagined seeing her shijie looking as though she had lost her mind to madness.

Her shijie’s tone was so ordinary, as if she were truly sitting in that spot—and that was exactly what made it so terrifying.

A word flashed through Wen Qiwu’s mind—Heart Demon.

            

“Ah Que…” Yun Heng murmured softly.

“Chirp.” Wen Qiwu chirped involuntarily, but the person lost in delusion couldn’t hear her response.

Though the room was quiet, the howling of the blizzard outside nearly drowned out Yun Heng’s voice.

            

“It’s my fault, don’t be angry.” She raised her hand and carefully touched the empty spot in front of her. “Did the cold wind get to you?”

But when Yun Heng’s fingertips brushed the phantom before her, the “person” there shattered like a reflection on water.

Yun Heng’s hand froze in midair, her expression filled with bewilderment.

            

There was no light in the room, no one waiting for her return—nothing at all.

“Chirp chirp!” The little white ball of fluff in the birdcage beside her was frantic—how could she possibly be angry over something so trivial?

Only then did Yun Heng vaguely register that there was still another sound in her room.

            

She turned her head, her hollow gaze falling on the little bird in the cage.

“Qingtuan?”

Wen Qiwu now looked exactly like Qingtuan. Dong Shiyue had been young at the time and couldn’t remember clearly, but Yun Heng would never forget.

            

Wen Qiwu looked up at her shijie. A faint glimmer seemed to crystallize in Yun Heng’s eyes, yet that glimmer was more like despair seeping through as her expression was about to shatter.

“You’re back?” Her voice was as light as a wisp of breeze, as if she were afraid that speaking any louder would shatter the scene before her. “Then does that mean Ah Que is coming back too?”

Yun Heng touched the little white ball’s soft head, and Wen Qiwu unconsciously nuzzled against her fingertips.

            

That fluffy softness could melt anyone’s heart, but the glimmer in Yun Heng’s eyes extinguished completely upon seeing this.

“You’re not it, you’re not it…”

Qingtuan had a terrible temper. It wasn’t even necessarily gentle with Wen Qiwu, and was fiercer still with strangers. Why would it ever nuzzle someone’s fingertips when touched? If it didn’t peck you back, it was in a good mood.

            

So a single gesture from Wen Qiwu was enough for Yun Heng to know that the little creature in the cage wasn’t Qingtuan, but another bird that simply looked just like it.

Qingtuan was probably never coming back.

Over the past century, Yun Heng’s thoughts would occasionally become tangled—perhaps the work of her Heart Demon, or perhaps sheer madness. She often saw phantoms and false images, but she preferred to lose herself in them, because when she was lucid, she had to face reality.

            

Her shimei² was gone. She wasn’t coming back.

A century had passed since then. She had exhausted every method but couldn’t preserve even a wisp of her shimei’s soul. She was useless—she couldn’t save Ah Que…

“Cough, cough…” Yun Heng’s face grew even paler. She covered her mouth and coughed, her gaunt frame trembling as though crushed by the weight of despairing reality.

            

Blood seeped between her fingers, dripping onto the floor one drop after another.

Her vision gradually blurred. As a True Immortal Realm cultivator with an ice spirit root, Yun Heng shouldn’t have been able to feel cold at all, yet now she actually felt a “chill” born of her life force slipping away.

If she died, would she be able to see Ah Que?

            

But the answer was no. Ah Que’s soul had dissipated into the heavens and earth—she wouldn’t be waiting by the Bridge of Helplessness³.

And… Ah Que probably harbored resentment. She might not even want to see her anymore.

Wen Qiwu’s body shook violently too. She saw blood seeping through the wounds at Yun Heng’s waist and chest. The instant her shijie collapsed, a phoenix’s anguished cry echoed across the summit of Yunwu Mountain.

            

Even shrouded in blizzard, if the Feather Tribe heard the distress cry of a young phoenix, the birds would charge in regardless of danger.

But Yunwu Mountain had long become a dead place devoid of life. Her cry was buried in the storm, failing to reach the Feather Tribe beyond.

Wen Qiwu was locked in the cage with all her power restricted. What strength she could muster from within was less than that of an ordinary adult bird outside.

            

She had been ill so long she’d practically become a doctor—she knew some medicine. But constrained by her current situation, she couldn’t help her shijie heal, couldn’t fetch the Medical Immortal, and couldn’t even carry her shijie to the bed nearby.

Wen Qiwu hadn’t felt this powerless in a long time. She carefully nudged the cage toward the other side until it tipped, succeeding in tumbling the cage—and herself—onto the floor.

Wen Qiwu was so dizzy from the fall she could barely see straight, but she had no time to worry about herself. She immediately scrambled up from the tipped cage and rolled it toward her shijie.

            

It took enormous effort to reach her shijie’s side. The stench of blood wrapped around her, and Wen Qiwu’s heart trembled.

Any injury severe enough to afflict a True Immortal Realm cultivator couldn’t be light. She pressed against her shijie’s cheek and barely detected a faint breath.

Don’t panic, don’t panic… There was no one to help. She had to figure something out herself.

            

A trace of undried tears still clung to the corner of her shijie’s eye—who knew what sorrow she’d seen in her unconsciousness. Wen Qiwu nuzzled the tears away, but accidentally tasted their bitterness. A stinging ache rose in her eyes, and she almost wanted to cry too.

She told herself she had to stay calm. Trapped in the birdcage, what did she have to work with?

She thought and thought, and finally her gaze fell on herself.

            

A phoenix was an immortal beast, born with Earth Immortal Realm strength. From feathers to bone and blood, every part of it was a supreme spiritual treasure.

Wen Qiwu immediately used her beak to score a gash over her heart and drew out a drop of faintly golden blood.

She barely managed to stretch her little head out of the cage and delivered that drop of gold-red blood into her shijie’s mouth.

            

A phoenix’s blood contained abundant life force and fire-attribute immortal power. As the blood entered Yun Heng’s mouth, it transformed into pure strength and merged into her body.

Wen Qiwu couldn’t examine her shijie’s specific injuries, but her breathing was gradually steadying—her heart’s blood was working!

Yun Heng’s cold, pale lips finally regained some color, and her body grew warmer. The taut string in Wen Qiwu’s heart finally loosened, and physical exhaustion washed over her. Drawing heart’s blood still took a toll on her body—she needed time to recover.

            

The little white ball nestled against her shijie’s forehead and closed her eyes. She’d been too frantic to think straight while saving her just now, but looking back… had she just kissed her shijie again?

It was to save her! She’d had no choice in the heat of the moment. It didn’t count—it didn’t count!

If Wen Qiwu had her human form back, her face would surely be flushed crimson by now.

            

Wen Qiwu couldn’t actively heal the wound on her chest; she could only rely on her body’s natural recovery. Before long, she fell asleep against her shijie, exhausted.

The little phoenix in the room unknowingly radiated warmth. The dark room was no longer bitingly cold, and the unconscious woman seemed to sense something—a softness gradually settling into her brows and eyes.

At some unknown point, the howling blizzard outside gradually subsided, and Yunwu Mountain welcomed its first peaceful night in nearly a century.

            

The moon sank westward, and a pale golden light rose in the east. As sunlight fell into the room on Yunwu Mountain, the unconscious woman’s lashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes.

Yun Heng sat up. She looked at the dried blood on her hands, then let them fall weakly to her sides.

The little ball of fluff in the birdcage was still asleep. Yun Heng picked up the Transmission Paper Crane that Dong Shiyue had left with her and listened to the message. Only then did she learn that this little creature who looked so much like Qingtuan was a gift Dong Shiyue had found for her.

            

That girl had meant well, but she couldn’t even take care of herself right now. How could she possibly raise another living creature?

Yun Heng lifted the birdcage as gently as possible and set it on the table beside her, without disturbing the little one sleeping inside.

She sent a Transmission Paper Crane to Dong Shiyue, asking her to come retrieve the little creature. Dong Shiyue couldn’t prevail against the Sect Master and could only agree, but she had just left the sect and wouldn’t be back for a while. She asked Yun Heng to look after it for a few days.

            

After that, Dong Shiyue seemed to have entered a secret realm, and Yun Heng temporarily lost contact with her.

Yun Heng sat quietly in the room where daylight rarely reached. The little creature in the cage seemed far better behaved than Qingtuan. Her hollow, numb gaze rested on the little phoenix for a long while before she reached out and stroked Wen Qiwu.

The little creature was warm beneath her hand—just like the temperature of her shimei’s palm.

            

Dong Shiyue probably wouldn’t be back for another month. Yun Heng could have sent the little bird to Shangqing Mountain for Dong Shiyue’s master to care for, but she absently ruffled Wen Qiwu’s feathers for a long while, and in the end, didn’t send her away.

Yun Heng took some spiritual grain and spiritual fruit and placed them in the cage. Wen Qiwu hadn’t woken yet. After closing the cage door, Yun Heng left the room.

Beneath the main hall of Yunwu Mountain was a dungeon. It had once imprisoned a viciously evil demon, and after that demon perished, the dungeon sat empty—until a new “guest” arrived a few decades ago.

            

Walking through the dungeon corridor, Yun Heng raised a hand to press against her chest. The wound there seemed to hurt less.

Strange. Not just her chest—the wounds elsewhere had improved significantly too. She hadn’t even been tormented by her Heart Demon when she passed out last night. Or perhaps her illness had worsened, which was why she’d vaguely felt her shimei beside her in her haze.

A bloodcurdling scream suddenly echoed from within the dungeon. A dark gloom flickered through Yun Heng’s eyes. She set aside the strangeness in her body and walked straight to the depths of the dungeon.

            

There lay a freshly drawn array. Every rune within it seemed inscribed in blood. At the center of the array sat an altar, and chained to it was a twisted, horrifying soul-body. The figure was taller than an ordinary person, and faces—countless different faces—continuously surfaced across its form.

This was the Ten Thousand Souls Demon Lord, whom rumors said Yun Heng had cut to pieces. The outside world believed he had been utterly destroyed, but he hadn’t. The array before her continuously drained his power, and the inscriptions pulsed with an eerie, unnatural light.

The Ten Thousand Souls Demon Lord howled and cursed, occasionally begging for mercy—but the person he hurled abuse at remained deaf to it all.

            

Yun Heng crouched down and repaired the worn sections. Red light played across her, and the Immortal Venerable of the Cangwang Realm seemed to have taken on a taint of the profane.

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