Chapter 126: Escaping the Abyss of Oblivion

Chapter 126: Escape and Forgetting to Return to the Abyss
Chapter 13: The Chilling Waves of Love and the Slender Shadow — Mysterious Cave of the Immortal Abyss Unearths Ancient Treasures (Part Eleven)

Upon leaving the stone chamber, Ye Hua glanced left and right, only to find emptiness all around. Behind the chamber stood a natural barrier of stalactites. Stepping forward cautiously, Ye Hua observed that the stalactites were merely translucent, resembling ordinary five-colored glazed crystals. Beyond them was a massive stone wall without any exit or passage. Seeing this, a wave of disappointment welled up in Ye Hua’s heart, but there was nothing to be done, so he withdrew.

Emerging from the deep cavern onto the surface, Ye Hua looked up at the dense gray mist above. It seemed even thicker and darker than before, pressing down like a heavy shroud. He had tried countless times to resist this eerie gray fog but found himself utterly powerless. Escaping from above was simply impossible.

“Could it be that I am doomed to spend my life here? When I finally turn to bones, will anyone even bury me? Ah, I’ve already given my Red Crow Dagger and other treasures to him!” Then a whimsical thought struck him: “Perhaps one day someone else will fall from the sky and keep me company! Ha! Or maybe Hong Ri and Hong Xing will leap down from above—that would be some company! Even if we can’t get out, at least there would be some amusement!”

What Ye Hua did not know was just how perilous the Abyss of Forgetting to Return truly was. It was nearly impossible for anyone to survive such a fall. Even those intentionally descending faced certain death in the high heavens. The millennia-old poisonous gloom of the earth’s calamity was unmatched in its ferocity. Only the most virtuous and extensively cultivated sages could dare venture here. When the Sage Emperor Shenghua and the First Disciple Zeng Wenwang once came to investigate, they expended great internal energy and only cast a brief glance before hastily retreating.

When Ye Hua himself fell into the abyss, he had already lost consciousness and was utterly defenseless against the poisonous gloom. Fortunately, his strong constitution allowed him to endure, which was a great stroke of luck amid misfortune. He did not provoke the poisonous mist’s full wrath, which would have intensified a thousandfold and overwhelmed even those with cultivation ten times his own strength.

No one understood this subtlety. Ye Hua had simply fallen straight into the deep pool and somehow survived, a fortune accumulated over countless lifetimes. Now, he whimsically hoped someone else might fall from the sky to join him—an absurd hope indeed.

Ye Hua spent his days wandering outside, taking the opportunity to refine the Fire Cloud Chain and the Sorrow Silk Drill with care. The Bronze Giant Cauldron showed no anomalies these days, but Ye Hua barely had time to think about it.

After several days, his wounds had nearly healed, save for a blood talisman lodged in his spirit sea. Apart from its initial flare-up, it had not acted up again, but it hung like a sharp sword over his head. It could activate at any moment and end his life. He knew he had to find a way to dispel it.

Yet, trapped here to all appearance, all he could do was sigh. He ventured several times into the deep cave but found nothing new.

This time, Ye Hua wandered aimlessly until he reached the deep cave again. He thought to himself, “I might as well take one last look. If I find nothing, I shall never enter here again.” Resolving this, he mounted his sword and entered.

Having been here countless times before, Ye Hua was very familiar with the cave. In no time, he reached the bottom—pitch black as ever. After walking several dozen paces, a sudden brightness appeared ahead, revealing a large cavern. Passing through a stone door, several stone chambers came into view. He had searched these chambers so many times he might as well have dismantled them all.

The longer he searched, the more agitated he became. Unable to contain his frustration, he strode out, pointing at a nearby alchemical furnace. A flash of white light streaked forth, and with a crack, the furnace split into two halves. Kicking it, the half cauldron flew toward the back of the stone chamber, where it collided with a stalactite with a thunderous crash, scattering fragments. Yet the stalactite remained intact.

Startled, Ye Hua hurried around the chamber. Apart from the lone stalactite, there was nothing else. The furnace had struck it, shattering into pieces on the floor, but the stalactite was as firm as ever. Ye Hua marveled, “How can this stalactite be so incredibly hard?” Yet a strange feeling stirred in his heart, soon replaced by wild joy, though he could not fathom why.

“Could it be...” he murmured, trembling hands gently caressing the stalactite. He had examined it closely many times before without noticing anything unusual. “No way... It really is this stalactite! Ha!”

Ye Hua could hardly restrain his laughter. Gathering his strength, he surged his internal energy. With a slight exertion, the dark stalactite suddenly glowed with brilliant light. Amid creaking sounds, it slowly shifted aside, revealing a dazzlingly radiant passage beneath.

Ecstatic, Ye Hua exclaimed, “Ha! It’s a teleportation array! This is amazing!”

The passage was no deeper than a yard, and at its bottom lay a mysterious array diagram—a small teleportation formation.

“I’ve been such a fool,” Ye Hua said aloud. “Behind the stone chamber is this stalactite barrier, yet I never suspected anything strange! Surely... the owner of this place has a use for it, ha ha!”

He wondered, “I just hope the other end of the teleportation array isn’t thousands of miles away! But considering its size, probably not...”

After a moment of calm, Ye Hua thought carefully. Outside the cave, he had no belongings he truly needed. Now that he was about to leave, the memories of these past ten days in the Abyss of Forgetting to Return flooded back vividly—the pools, the deep frost, the strange spirits and skeletons, the stone chambers, and the ancient Bronze Xia Nine Cauldrons. He had truly lived through death and back again.

Strangely, despite his desire to leave, a faint reluctance lingered. Though no one dwelled in this abyss, it was free from the noisy strife, deceit, and dangers of the outside world. A lifetime of peace and joy like this was a rare blessing few could understand.

Though he thought thus, he knew he could not stay. After a moment’s hesitation, he looked back at the stone chamber, then leapt into the teleportation formation. Suddenly, the array flared, a column of brilliant light enveloped him, and everything went black.

When Ye Hua opened his eyes, he found himself in a new realm. The deep cave had vanished. The glowing clouds beneath him faded—the teleportation array had completed its task.

Standing up, Ye Hua saw before him a vast plum grove. Though it was June, long past plum blossom season, ancient gnarled branches and lush green leaves shaded the ground. Birds chirped among the trees, wildflowers in myriad colors blanketed the hills, distant mountains shimmered in jade hues, nearby ridges were cloaked in lush greenery, and the scene radiated a serene and enchanting beauty.

A faint ache still lingered in his body, and the recent past felt like a dream. Looking toward the edge of the green forest, a corner of a red pavilion with peeling paint appeared, resembling a Buddhist temple. Around it were clouds, mist, trees, cliffs, springs, and stones—everything vaguely familiar. Ye Hua mused, “I wonder where this place is?”

Turning around, he saw a slope behind him and climbed it to gain a better view. By then, the sun had hidden behind the high peaks. The sky glowed with twilight hues, and flocks of weary birds flew across the horizon. Towering cliffs pierced the clouds, mountains encircled rivers, and deep valleys lay in quiet mystery. Green willows and tall locust trees rustled as cicadas called incessantly. Flowers, grass, and lichens swayed in the evening breeze, creating an atmosphere of tranquil beauty that stirred the soul.

“What a peaceful and secluded scene!” Ye Hua thought silently. Looking around, a light cloud rose from below, gathering like cotton wrapped in fine silk. Soon the mist thickened and coalesced, enveloping the valley in a silver sea of fog.

Carefully observing, Ye Hua recognized a low peak with a temple and square plaza clearly visible—it was Mount Datong. Overjoyed, he thought, “I’m unexpectedly so close to Daxing Zen Monastery! I wonder how Master An Chan and Hong Ri and Hong Xing are doing now?”

He hurried down the slope toward the monastery. Above him, a crescent moon had risen, casting silver light over the pine trees. Their twisted shadows stretched across the ground, pine needles carpeted the earth, and the night breeze rustled his sleeves like flowing water. The distant cries of immortal birds mingled with the sound of pine waves, enhancing the scene’s ethereal quietude.

Before long, Ye Hua arrived at the plaza before Daxing Zen Monastery. The stone lions stood as before, bringing a flicker of joy. But the temple gates were wide open, and a faint smell of blood filled the air. Alarmed, Ye Hua quickly stepped inside.

The courtyard was a chaotic mess—broken branches and scattered stones everywhere. Several bodies lay bloodied on the ground. Leaning over, Ye Hua saw their strong noses and deep-set eyes, clearly not native to the Central Plains. Their breaths were gone, and they had been dead some time.

“Could these be the Westerners who fought me last time? How is Master An Chan?” Ye Hua wondered as he moved deeper into the temple. The monastery was in ruins, clearly the aftermath of a fierce battle. In the main hall lay another body dressed in monk’s robes, small in stature—the same temple attendant who had introduced him and his group before.

Searching further, Ye Hua found no other survivors or clues. He guessed that Master An Chan, the old man surnamed Wang, and the Hong brothers must have escaped. Relieved, he sighed, “But I wonder where they fled? Did those Westerners pursue them? I have no way of knowing.”

After a long search with no new findings, Ye Hua returned to the courtyard. He extended his hand, conjuring flames to cremate the bodies into ashes before departing the monastery. His mood was no longer joyful but filled with worry and doubt. Looking up at the clear moonlit sky, he let out a long howl, mounted his flying sword, and vanished into the night.

Several hours passed swiftly until midnight. A bright moon hung high overhead as Ye Hua stood at the sword’s tip, soaring over ridge after ridge. The mountains were silent and deserted. Beneath the starlight and moonlight, he gazed down into the void. All around was a calm sea without wind, a mirror-like expanse shimmering silver for thousands of miles.

Ye Hua thought, “Better to rest a while and avoid going the wrong way. Cold City lies over ten thousand miles from the capital. Even if I hurry day and night, it will take ten to fifteen days. Haste makes waste.”

His swordlight gradually dimmed as he descended to the ground. When the glow faded, his figure appeared.

Before him lay a vast lake under a half moon, the sky and water merging in endless blue. Gentle waves lapped like the rhythm of drums and flutes. The scene was vast and magnificent, a realm apart.

After admiring the view for some time, Ye Hua found a clean stone platform to sit and meditate on, regulating his breath. When he awoke the next morning, the sun was just rising. Nearby lay a lake spanning over a hundred acres, its water green and deep, bottom unseen.

The morning breeze stirred ripples across the lake’s surface, sunlight shimmering like a thousand golden scales sparkling brilliantly.

Looking around, mountains surrounded the lake like protective arms, distant peaks purple-hued, nearby ridges cloaked in green, and the sky was clear and bright. Suddenly, a white cloud rose halfway up one peak, cutting it off as if by a barrier. The other mountains vanished into the cloud sea, leaving only peak tips floating like islands in a silver ocean—truly a lair of dragons and a realm of immortal spirits.

As Ye Hua watched, a gray mist suddenly appeared atop a northern slope, spreading over several dozen yards. It hung thick and heavy like fog, with faint flickers of light dancing within. The lake below churned violently as a fierce wind blew, raising waves as tall as hills. Shadowy shapes resembling fish, dragons, and ghosts swirled among the tumultuous waters.

Startled, Ye Hua thought, “What kind of trouble is stirring over there?”