My Shijie Seems Intent on Destroying the World – Chapter 34

Questioning the Heart

Cultivators Have Snuck In Again.

Qingming¹ was approaching. The grass and trees had already turned green, the wind was still cool, but the afternoon sunlight carried a faint warmth.

The two young women who had been carried up the mountain vanished into thin air after taking just a few steps from the carriage.

            

The driver, long accustomed to such sights, tugged the reins, turned the horse around, and headed back down the mountain.

The instant she stepped into the villa, Qi Zhi felt the world before her eyes transform entirely. She couldn’t help but widen her gaze.

The entire estate seemed to float upon an emerald lake.

            

Beyond the villa’s borders lay ordinary mountain forest, yet the lake water came from no discernible source. Stone bridges and covered corridors—some curved, some straight—hugged the surface of the jade-green water, linking together pavilions and towers one after another.

A soft spiritual glow suffused the lake, pale cyan, like ink dropped into water, diffusing into something between mist and smoke. It veiled a few sparse clusters of lotus blossoms—out of season, yet blooming with extraordinary beauty. Beneath the lotus leaves drifted several koi, flickering in and out of view through the gentle ripples.

Inside the villa, it was considerably warmer than outside.

            

The air was moist and cool, carrying not only a faint lotus fragrance but also traces of scholar tree blossoms and crabapple, making it impossible to tell whether it was spring or summer.

The villa was hospitable. The moment they entered, two maids came forward and recorded their names onto jade tablets placed by the gate.

“Two honored guests, this way, please,” one servant said, leading the way ahead.

            

Qi Zhi glanced back instinctively.

Through the thin spiritual glow, she could see the stream outside flowing gently, the wind rustling through pine branches.

It was clearly close at hand, yet it felt as though a layer of mist separated them—muffled and heavy, rendering every sound indistinct.

            

“Shimei.” Mu Qingshi called to her.

Qi Zhi snapped out of her reverie, withdrew her gaze, and hurried to keep pace with Mu Qingshi.

Beneath their feet ran a corridor close to the water, half-rolled bamboo curtains hanging between the pillars.

            

The artificial rocks along the shore were blanketed in damp green moss. Across the lake, courtyards large and small were scattered at varying heights—some planted with scholar trees, others with crabapple.

Throughout the villa, servants were everywhere. Men and women alike wore simple, clean attire, their features so delicately handsome they seemed to have been meticulously carved.

Some stood in pavilions, leaning against railings to steal a moment’s rest.

            

Some poled small skiffs across the lake, scooping up petals scattered by the wind.

Some carried jade cups, walking in formation along the corridors with perfectly synchronized steps, heading toward some unknown destination.

In a distant water pavilion, a breeze stirred gauze curtains, revealing the silhouettes of two figures seated across from each other, a chessboard and wine set laid out between them.

            

On a terrace overlooking the water, a richly dressed middle-aged man leaned against the railing, admiring the lotuses blooming in springtime.

The villa held no shortage of people, yet it was inexplicably, profoundly quiet.

Even the servant leading them now walked so lightly that his footsteps were virtually soundless.

            

Qi Zhi hadn’t dared to speak the entire way, clutching a sleeve and following Mu Qingshi step for step.

After crossing one stone bridge after another, passing through one corridor after the next, the two servants finally led them to a courtyard.

At the courtyard entrance stood a pair of moss-covered stone lanterns, one on each side.

            

From each lantern hung a lotus-shaped portable lamp.

The servants explained that the villa was vast, and at night fog would roll in. Wandering about made it easy to lose one’s way back.

The stone lanterns were inscribed with spiritual runes. Before going out, one should light the stone lantern and carry the lotus lamp along; when it was time to return, the spiritual light would guide the way.

            

If they needed anything, they could ring the bronze bell in their room.

The servants gave a slight bow and departed.

Qi Zhi watched them leave, then slowly gathered her wits, tilting her head up with her mouth parted, gazing around at everything.

            

This courtyard, too, was built over the lake. A few steps would bring her close enough to touch the lotus flowers in the water, and the red carp darting beneath the leaves.

The fragrant charcoal in her hand warmer had burned out. Qi Zhi didn’t refill it, but carefully wrapped it up and stowed it in her Qiankun Bag.

It was warm here; she no longer needed the hand warmer.

            

A massive scholar tree grew in the courtyard.

Its blossoms gave off a delicate fragrance—rice-white, strung in clusters, hanging from the lush green branches.

Beneath the tree stood a stone table, upon which sat a chessboard.

            

On the board, an unfinished game remained.

The warm-jade pieces were covered in a fine layer of dust. Whoever had lived here before had left long ago and wouldn’t be coming back to finish the game.

Mu Qingshi went inside. Qi Zhi stayed outside alone, looking around and wandering about for a while.

            

Every blade of grass and every tree before her eyes was unlike anything early spring should produce.

Qi Zhi couldn’t help but wonder to herself—could this be the legendary “Immortal Landscape Creation”?

She had once heard the sect’s scholar say that only immortals and gods could conjure matter from nothing, shaping landscapes and realms at will.

            

The Immortal Terrace on Mount Qiongju, half-lost among the clouds, was what the Divine Maiden had left behind when she descended to the mortal world.

To become an immortal, one had to cultivate to the Heavenly Tribulation Realm and survive the near-certain death of the Heavenly Lightning Tribulation.

Even after ascending, to remain in the mortal world, one had to endure a heavenly tribulation every hundred years—this was what it meant to wrest fate from the heavens.

            

Ever since the Demon God severed the Heavenly Gate, the Four Spiritual Veins of the mortal realm lost the nourishment of the Heavenly Realm’s Spiritual Spring, and the world’s spiritual energy was far less abundant than before.

Whether human or demon, reaching the Heavenly Tribulation Realm through cultivation was now as difficult as ascending to the heavens. Let alone enduring the tribulation once every century!

In the mortal realm today, immortals of any renown could practically be counted on one hand.

            

The Three Venerables were immortals, and the Master of Mount Han was an immortal.

Mu Qingshi had once been one, and the deceased Beilu as well.

Beyond these, there were only a few minor immortals within the Immortal Alliance—elders of great seniority but modest cultivation who had to mobilize their entire sect’s strength each time they faced a tribulation—and a handful of reclusive loose immortals whose very existence or extinction went wholly unnoticed.

            

This Yinsha, Villa Master of Mingyue Villa, had not only killed Beilu without a sound but could also conjure entire landscapes from thin air. Truly formidable!

The villa’s scenery was half like an immortal paradise, but perhaps because she knew too much, a psychological effect took hold—Qi Zhi couldn’t shake the feeling that everything around her was far too quiet.

Servants were everywhere, yet each one was utterly silent. They moved in groups of three or five, but not a single one exchanged so much as an idle word.

            

When she had stayed at Liang Family Manor, the maids and manservants alike would gather and chatter the moment they had a spare breath.

Legend had it that most who attended the Mingyue Banquet never left.

But even if only one banquet was held each season, Mingyue Villa should still have had plenty of people. It shouldn’t be this deserted, should it?

            

This place really was strange!

Wandering around like this probably wasn’t very safe, was it?

Qi Zhi shuddered, then zigzagged her way at a jog back to the courtyard, finally letting out a long breath of relief as her heart settled.

            

Mu Qingshi seemed tired. She leaned against the window, one hand resting on her temple, eyes closed in rest.

Spotting her from across the courtyard, Qi Zhi instinctively slowed her breathing. She slipped inside as lightly as a cat, tiptoed to the table, and sat down quietly.

She had wanted to talk to Mu Qingshi about something, but seeing her resting like this, she couldn’t bear to disturb her. So she lay on the table, bored and idle.

            

With nothing to do, Qi Zhi gathered a lock of black hair from the nape of her neck, split it into three fine strands, braided it, then unraveled it.

After the third repetition, Mu Qingshi opened her eyes and turned to look at her.

As if sensing it, Qi Zhi raised her eyes toward the window as well.

            

A fleeting moment of eye contact, accompanied by a brief pause.

At last, the younger girl set down her hair, a touch of delight brightening her eyes.

“Shijie!” Qi Zhi said.

            

Mu Qingshi’s eyes curved into a smile. She rose, walked to the table, pulled out a stool, and sat down beside Qi Zhi. “When did you get back? Not a single sound.”

“Not that long ago,” Qi Zhi said. “This place is so big—I almost got lost in broad daylight!”

Mu Qingshi smiled and said gently, “Then next time you go out, light the lantern first.”

            

Qi Zhi: “Can we actually light those? I was worried they might be tampered with, so I didn’t dare touch them.”

Mu Qingshi: “They’re fine. Just a small positioning array.”

Qi Zhi nodded, pondered for a moment, then looked at Mu Qingshi and asked what she’d been thinking: “Shijie, would this count as Immortal Landscape Creation?”

            

“Mm.”

“This Villa Master Yinsha is truly that formidable!” Qi Zhi marveled, unable to resist asking further, “So are the servants inside the villa also conjured from nothing and controlled by spiritual power?”

Mu Qingshi closed her eyes and shook her head.

            

Qi Zhi: “But they’re all so quiet. So quiet that… well, it feels rather lifeless.”

Mu Qingshi smiled and teased softly, “So you were scared back?”

“I…” Qi Zhi pressed her lips together, ultimately not arguing back. “I just felt something was off, so I thought I’d come back and ask shijie about it.”

            

The bronze bell hanging by the window swayed gently in the wind, making no sound at all.

Mu Qingshi cast a cool glance at it and released a thread of spiritual power from her fingertip, enveloping the bell within it.

Qi Zhi was so startled she clapped a hand over her mouth, her voice dropping to a whisper. “That bell—is it eavesdropping on us?!”

            

“This bell can transmit sound and summon servants, so naturally it has other uses as well.” Mu Qingshi poured a cup of tea and said dismissively, “No matter. Just petty tricks.”

Qi Zhi nodded, pressed her lips together, and drew a long, deep breath, somewhat relieved.

Mu Qingshi: “Those servants don’t count as human.”

            

Qi Zhi: “…!”

Her heart, just settled, instantly leapt back into her throat.

“I was curious too. Over two hundred years, this Villa Master has invited so many people into the mountain, yet almost none have left. What does she keep them all for?” Mu Qingshi said evenly. “When we entered the villa just now and saw those servants, I finally understood…”

            

She stopped there, leaving the rest unsaid.

Qi Zhi’s curiosity was unbearable. She leaned forward instinctively and whispered, “What did shijie figure out?”

“Every single servant in this villa—” Mu Qingshi paused slightly, then gave a soft scoff, looking at Qi Zhi as she said coolly, “is a wooden puppet.”

            

Qi Zhi took a moment to process this, then tilted her head and asked curiously, “Then aren’t they still conjured from nothing?”

Mu Qingshi shook her head once more. “They all have souls.”

Qi Zhi: “…”

            

So many puppets, each and every one with a soul?

“S-so…” Qi Zhi couldn’t help trembling. “The people who came to the banquet… their souls were all trapped inside these puppets?”

“Exactly,” Mu Qingshi said softly. “But these souls aren’t complete. The three souls are damaged, leaving only the seven spirits, which sustain a human-like instinct—enough to react to many things, but only the most basic reactions. They’re utterly incapable of thought.”

            

“…”

“They appear no different from ordinary people, and carry no unusual aura, but they are no longer human, nor can they be called demons.”

“…”

            

“This state—neither alive nor dead, yet retaining some shred of awareness—might be more fittingly called a ‘Living Puppet.'”

“Th-then… can these people still be saved?”

Mu Qingshi set down her teacup, her tone flat. “These people are imprisoned here, their souls damaged, their bodies gone. For all we know, the families they once had have long since turned to dust. Even if they could be saved, how would that be any different from being dead?”

            

Qi Zhi opened her mouth, but sat stunned for a long while, unable to produce a single word.

A sudden breeze drifted through the window, rustling the old scholar tree in the courtyard.

Qi Zhi shivered, and suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back down the mountain.

            

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All four sides of the Lake-Heart Pavilion were draped in gossamer-thin soft smoke gauze².

Spiritual glow, soft and gentle, veiled the lake and the pavilion alike.

The gauze was lifted by the wind.

            

Inside, a woman lay drowsy and half-lidded, reclining on a beauty’s daybed.

Her soft pink collar hung loose, slipping down to reveal a stretch of shoulder and neck—white as freshly fallen snow, yet suffused with the warm luster of jade.

Her hair had half come undone, a few strands of black silk scattered against her neck, setting off the translucence of her skin all the more.

            

A snow-white ear-rabbit drifted down to the windowsill on the breeze, its large tail swaying.

It burrowed through the gauze, caught sight of the woman at a glance, then slowly stood upright and puffed out its bulging belly.

“Has everyone arrived?” the woman asked, her voice languid.

            

The ear-rabbit nodded, patted its bulging belly, let out a couple of burps, and blew out a stream of transparent bubbles that drifted gently toward the woman.

The woman reached up and popped one. Soundless scenes unfurled before her eyes like blooming flowers.

In the image was a “distinguished guest” who had arrived bearing a token.

            

She watched for a moment, apparently bored, and waved the image away. She popped several more bubbles in succession.

After a moment of silence, she curved her lips into a faint smile and laughed softly. “Cultivators have snuck in again—and more than one.”

“…”

            

“So many people coming and going, and not one has ever uncovered anything. These cultivators exhaust themselves finding jade tokens, yet they never stay long. How tedious.”

“…”

“Xixue.” The woman beckoned to the ear-rabbit, suddenly sat upright, and tapped the image of a girl glancing nervously about. “This timid-looking little thing is rather cute. More interesting than the cold one beside her. What’s her name?”

            

“I think she’s called… Qi Zhi?” Xixue answered, then thought for a moment and added, “She’s a little demon. Very low cultivation.”

“Low cultivation?” The woman couldn’t help but smile. “That’s perfect. Think of a way to keep her here later.”

“She came with that cultivator,” Xixue reminded her quietly.

            

The woman slowly closed her eyes, silent for a long moment. When she opened them again, her tone carried a new edge of impatience. “I want you to think of a way.”

“…”

“Must I deal with a single human cultivator myself?”

            

“…”

“Get out!”

As the word fell, a fierce wind surged, and the gauze curtains billowed.

            

Xixue’s ears trembled. She ducked her head, slipped out the window, and fled across the lotus leaves, vanishing from sight.

The wind stopped. The woman frowned slightly and waved away all remaining images.

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The author has something to say:

            

Yinsha: Keep the little one. The big one, do as you please—kill her if you want.

Yue Jinzhu: Friend, I’d advise you…

Mu Qingshi: 【Smiles】

            

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