Chapter Twenty-Five: The Curse Strikes Again!

Early the next morning, Zhou Tian was once again roused from his bed. He gazed sleepily at the young man before him, clad in a white robe embroidered with python jade, his eyes barely open. "Zhou Zui, couldn’t you come a bit later? I haven’t had a lazy morning in days."

The youth standing before him, wearing a lewd smile, was none other than Zhou Zui, son of the Carefree Prince and once Zhou Tian’s closest friend. Together, they often frequented the pleasure quarters of the imperial capital.

"Zhou Tian, you’re not being fair to your brother. I’ve only spent a few days at the Dance Heaven Pavilion discussing life with those lovely ladies, and you’re already engaged. Tell me honestly, was last night as intoxicating as I imagine?"

Zhou Zui was actually quite handsome—charming and distinguished. Yet, the smile on his face always gave Zhou Tian the impression of nothing but mischief.

"No, Ling’er is preparing for the Youth Tournament. She’s been in seclusion these past few days, no time to play with me..." Zhou Tian’s face fell as he spoke.

"Youth Tournament?" Zhou Zui was taken aback, but pressed on, "Doesn’t your family have a guaranteed spot in the Elite Competition? You’re useless and can’t use it anyway—why not give it to Ling’er?"

"Who are you calling useless?" Zhou Tian sighed. Most people avoided mentioning his status as a mere mortal for fear of hurting him, but Zhou Zui and those garish women were different. Zhou Zui would uncover Zhou Tian’s wounds, carve them deeper, then sprinkle chili oil mixed with salt on them. Thanks to him, Zhou Tian had long ceased to be sensitive about being called a mortal.

"The Elite Competition is full of monsters. What if Ling’er gets hurt?"

"Good point," Zhou Zui nodded, and only after a moment realized Zhou Tian’s words were a subtle jab at himself.

Before Zhou Zui could retort, Zhou Tian asked, "Why did you leave the Dance Heaven Pavilion? Don’t tell me you came out of concern for me—I won’t believe it!"

With a sheepish expression, Zhou Zui rubbed his hands and explained, "Things were going well with the ladies, but who would have thought those sour scholars from Da Luo Academy would arrive so early? You know, scholars and courtesans are always the protagonists of those tales—there’s just no resisting them."

Zhou Tian’s expression showed understanding. So that was it. He remembered hearing Emperor Qin mention that the people from Da Luo Academy had business with him. He had assumed Da Luo Academy was merely a school within the Tian Qin Empire, but it turned out to be a major force ruling over an entire province.

"So you came here like a useless wretch?"

"Impossible! How could I let those scholars sully the ladies? I challenged them to contests of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting!"

Zhou Zui puffed up with pride, like a rooster defending its hen.

Zhou Tian sneered, "And you lost every single one, didn’t you?" Music, chess, calligraphy, painting? Zhou Zui? Don’t be ridiculous! Gambling, drinking, debauchery—that’s more his style. Zhou Tian knew his strengths all too well.

"That’s right…" Zhou Zui’s head drooped.

"So you came here like a useless wretch?"

"Impossible!" Zhou Zui raised his head once more, pride flickering in his eyes. "I beat them all up!"

"And then your father beat you up," Zhou Tian replied without hesitation. The scholars’ backing was a provincial power; Zhou Zui hitting them would require the Tian Qin Empire to at least make a show of justice.

"That’s right…" Zhou Zui’s head hung low again, like a defeated rooster.

"My father told me to lay low for a while. After thinking it over, this was the only place I could come."

"Enough about me. How far have you and Ling’er gone? On the bed, or off it?" Zhou Zui shifted the topic, moving closer with a lascivious grin.

"Get out of here. Ling’er and I pursue a spiritual romance; physical desire isn’t even in our consideration yet!" Zhou Tian pushed him away in disgust.

"No way!" Zhou Zui exclaimed dramatically. "You haven’t slept together yet?"

"I intend to wait until we’re married," Zhou Tian replied airily.

"Brother, have you been possessed? What’s with this sudden notion? Even our grandfathers didn’t think like this! Are you still the Zhou Tian who brandished his silver spear against the heavens with me at Dance Heaven Pavilion?"

Zhou Zui was incredulous.

"What nonsense are you spouting?" Zhou Tian retorted, but a smile crept unconsciously onto his face. "Life… needs a touch of ceremony."

At that moment, he remembered yesterday at sunset, when Ling Tian raised her head in his arms to look at him, her eyes swollen and bright, tears still lingering. In her gaze, he saw his own reflection… and wondered why he hadn’t kissed her!

"Too terrifying, too terrifying. I must never get married, it’s too terrifying!" Zhou Zui watched Zhou Tian’s expression shift from happiness to nostalgia, then to twisted agony, and couldn’t help but remark.

…

Elsewhere, in that mysterious space, upon that same patch of land, the great formation was still carved into the earth—though now its area had expanded tenfold, stretching a hundred thousand miles in every direction. Countless souls howled within, their numbers nearly ten times greater than before, some towering a hundred feet high, bodies enveloped in black mist, with countless demon heads swirling about them. They battered the formation’s edge, seeking escape; it was clear they had begun to develop a faint consciousness. Yet with each collision, some black mist was absorbed by the runes in the void, as thick as a finger.

At the center, the skeletal altar had grown to ten thousand feet tall, more robust and meticulously constructed. The bones that formed it were more exquisite: skulls flickering with purple lightning, arm bones suffused with the golden essence of Geng metal sharp enough to cleave space, spines radiating sword energy, ribs aglow with milky white light. Angels with twin wings soared nearby; when souls approached, their mist dissipated and their faces grew serene, but in an instant, the formation’s corruption intensified their resentment.

Upon the altar stood the same two figures in black robes, but this time the atmosphere was heavy, not the airy ease of before. If they failed now, they would be damned for eternity, with nowhere to flee.

Without superfluous words, they produced hairs and immersed them in the juice of the Heavenly Blood Divine Lotus. This time, the milky white liquid was far more abundant, and white lotuses blossomed in the void, filling the air with fragrance.

The juice of the Heavenly Blood Divine Lotus was sufficient to verify once more whether the soul had perished or not.

As before, the formation began to operate. Wind howled, green runes flickered, countless souls screamed as the most primal evil of humanity was extracted. When the last titanic soul, ten thousand feet tall, was refined, a thin black needle formed atop the skeletal altar. Just a glance at it induced dizziness.

One of the black-robed figures gritted his teeth, pulling from the void a glob of black liquid. A low chant resounded through the air—resentment, fury, desire, ecstasy, agony… all manner of emotions echoed.