northernbook Chapter 547
Chapter 547
Ye Jiuchen's fingertips trembled slightly on the back of Dongfang Wan'er's hand; she felt the calluses on his palm brush against the jade bell on her wrist. The eerie blue ghostly fire flickered in the mist three zhang away, like a wandering soul being choked, each flash stretching and shattering the shadows cast on the ground between the two. He suddenly stopped, his boot crushing a sticky beast tooth, and the ghostly fire receded abruptly by half a zhang, as if blocked by some invisible barrier.
"Watch your step." His voice, tinged with the dampness of the fog, was like silk soaked in ice water. "These will-o'-the-wisps follow the scent of the living." Dongfang Wan'er followed his gaze and saw that the ghostly blue lights floating in the fog were weaving a slowly shrinking net of light around the two of them. Suddenly, the black iron dagger at her waist hummed, and the Big Dipper engraved on its hilt glowed faintly—it was a weapon forged for her by Ye Jiuchen using fragments of his own black armor, and it was now sensing the approaching danger.
The tremor came without warning, like the earth suddenly coughing up a mouthful of black blood. The instant the crack opened, Ye Jiuchen spun around, shielding Dongfang Wan'er to his chest, and leaped towards the nearby boulder. However, the vines broke through the soil faster than lightning; their dark brown roots, wrapped with decaying leaves and pupae, coiled around his ankles like living creatures. Silver needles shot from his sleeve, seven bone-piercing nails arranged in the shape of the Big Dipper, driving into the three nearest vines. Blackish-red sap gushed from the severed ends, hissing white smoke as it corroded the soil, while more vines emerged from the mist from all directions, like countless giant pythons raising their heads.
"Cut their nodes with your dagger!" Dongfang Wan'er shouted in his ear, her dagger flashing as it severed the vines coiling around his waist. The moment the blade cut through the vines, she smelled a stench of rust and rotting fruit, almost making her vomit. Ye Jiuchen had replaced his silver needles with bone-piercing nails, each one precisely driven into the forks of the vines, yet the severed vines wriggled and regenerated like earthworms, their surfaces gradually forming sharp thorns. He suddenly noticed the jade hairpin in Dongfang Wan'er's hair, the mutton-fat jade hairpin he had given her, now shimmering with tiny sparkles as she moved: "Take off the hairpin!"
The moment the jade hairpin pierced the vine, Dongfang Wan'er heard a crisp sound like bones breaking. The pearl at the tip of the hairpin ground into the vine's surface, oozing a pale golden sap—this was an accessory soaked in dragon's blood, indeed possessing the power to subdue demons. Ye Jiuchen seized the opportunity to grab her wrist and break through towards the only direction in the mist without vines, but at that moment, all the will-o'-the-wisps suddenly condensed into a pair of eerie blue pupils, hovering three feet above the ground in the mist.
When the owner of the pupils appeared, the stench it brought with it tore off their cloaks. It was a ghostly wolf demon as tall as two people, black mist swirling beneath its fur, congealed blood beads clinging to its canine teeth, and tiny cracks of ice appearing on the ground with each step it took. "Human blood..." it began, a sound like gravel grinding against each other rolling from its throat, "sweeter than that apothecary from a hundred years ago." Only then did Dongfang Wan'er notice the laceration behind its ear—its shape was exactly the same as the wolf demon totem recorded in the ancient book in the medicine hut.
The moment the poisonous mist was released, Ye Jiuchen had already torn the sachet to shreds, the scent of dragon's brain mingling with the agarwood from his robes wafting towards them. Dongfang Wan'er, pressed behind him, felt the scent of cedar emanating from him, but noticed the bluish-black tinge rapidly creeping up his earlobes—a sign that the poisonous mist was penetrating the sachet. The wolf demon's claws slammed against the boulder beside them; amidst the flying debris, Ye Jiuchen's bone-piercing nail grazed its eyeball, leaving a thin, bloody gash on the wolf demon's face.
"They're afraid of Spirit Heart Grass!" Dongfang Wan'er suddenly remembered the annotation in the ancient book, the corner of which still had dried grass clippings stuck to it. "The book says that the fragrance of Spirit Heart Grass can dispel the aura of the netherworld!" Ye Jiuchen gently pinched her waist with his fingertips, a secret signal they had agreed upon long ago. He suddenly threw the last three Bone-Piercing Nails at the wolf demon's face, and as it shook its head to dodge, he grabbed her and rushed towards the direction where the ghost fire was strongest—there must be yin fire nourishing it there, right on the banks of the River of Oblivion where Spirit Heart Grass grows.
The howls of wolves pressed in from all directions. Dongfang Wan'er could hear Ye Jiuchen's rapid breathing; his fingertips were still pinching the soft flesh of her waist, the pressure so great it felt like they were digging into her bones. Suddenly, specks of light appeared in the mist. She saw patches of Spirit Heart Grass growing in the decaying soil, its petals translucent like glass, dew-like liquid condensing in its stamens. Ye Jiuchen suddenly stopped, taking out a jade bottle from his robes—it contained the medicinal juice he had hidden earlier. He poured it around the Spirit Heart Grass, and a pale golden barrier rose up.
The wolf demon's claws halted outside the barrier, letting out a resentful howl. Dongfang Wan'er plucked a Spirit Heart Grass; when the petals touched her palm, they felt a warmth like that of a baby's skin. She heard Ye Jiuchen groan behind her, and turning around, she saw that his shoulder was scratched, black blood dripping from his fingertips. "Quickly, apply the grass juice to the wound!" She tore off a petal, the green juice seeping into his wound, instantly creating a white mist, within which the wolf demon's form gradually blurred.
"So... you are the reincarnation of that apothecary..." The wolf demon's voice gradually faded, turning into specks of eerie blue sparks. Ye Jiuchen looked down at the Spirit Heart Grass in Dongfang Wan'er's hand, suddenly chuckled, and stroked her temples, which were damp with cold sweat: "It seems that our fates have been intertwined since a hundred years ago." The distant mist began to recede, revealing the pale light on the horizon. The Spirit Heart Grass swayed gently in the morning breeze, as if telling a secret that transcends reincarnation.
The sap of the Spirit Heart Grass on Dongfang Wan'er's fingertips hadn't even dried when Ye Jiuchen gently wiped her flushed cheeks with his fingertips. He gazed at her slightly parted lips, his Adam's apple bobbing as he was about to speak, when he saw the previously dissipated eerie blue sparks suddenly swirl in the mist, gradually solidifying into the form of a wolf cub, like clay being molded by an invisible hand. The wolf demon was only half a person's height, but its ear tips bore the same lacerations as its mother's, and its amber eyes gleamed with venomous resentment.
"The blood debt of my mother..." It bared its incomplete canine teeth, its voice like rusty nails scraping against a bronze mirror, "Humans should all be turned into lamp oil!" Dongfang Wan'er noticed that it had half a withered Spirit Heart Grass under its paws—clearly hastily torn off when the barrier shattered. Ye Jiuchen's silver needles had already slid into his palm, but when he saw the wolf cub staggering backward, his fingertips paused almost imperceptibly.
"You little beast, you think you can escape?" He deliberately twirled the silver needles between his fingers, but just as the wolf cub turned and darted into the mist, his toes barely touched the ground. Dongfang Wan'er noticed his unusual behavior and then realized that his hand on her waist was trembling slightly, and the black blood seeping from between his fingers had stained her clothes with spiderweb-like patterns—when she was applying medicine to him, she had forgotten that there were even deeper claw marks on his left shoulder.
"Stop chasing me!" She gripped his wrist, feeling the abnormal pulse throbbing beneath his skin. "Your blood is black." Ye Jiuchen looked down and saw the bluish-black lines spreading from the wound to his elbow. He suddenly remembered himself a hundred years ago, collapsing in the medicine hut, watching his blue robe soaked in blood, while the woman before him held the Spirit Heart Grass, her eyes filled with tears he had never seen before. He shook his head, banishing those memories that didn't belong to this life, letting Dongfang Wan'er apply fresh Spirit Heart Grass to his wound.
"Does it hurt?" Her breath brushed against his collarbone, carrying the unique cool scent of the Spirit Heart Grass. Ye Jiuchen suddenly chuckled and reached out to ruffle her hair, which was damp with mist. "Compared to when you carried me through three streets in the fire back then, what's a little pain?" Dongfang Wan'er's fingertips trembled, and she remembered that when he was unconscious a few days ago, he had called out "Aruo" in his delirium—that was her childhood name in her previous life.
The Spirit Heart Grass by the River of Oblivion swayed gently in the morning mist, each stalk bearing three glistening petals. The dewdrops clinging to the flower centers reflected the intertwined figures of the two. Ye Jiuchen wrapped the Spirit Heart Grass in his silk handkerchief, the embroidered character "九" (nine) on the corner of the handkerchief seeping through the grass's juices, echoing the "婉" (gentle) character on the bell on her wrist. Just as he was about to put the handkerchief into his hidden pocket, a muffled tremor like thunder suddenly resounded from the ground, and the faint sound of chains dragging on the ground could be heard from within the distant misty walls.
“It’s the Soul-Locking Chains of the Netherworld Messengers.” His fingertips gripped Dongfang Wan’er’s wrist, the touch like pressing down on a string about to stop. “It seems that the wolf cub ran off to get reinforcements.” She followed his gaze and saw countless eerie green dots appearing in the mist, each corresponding to a pair of fierce eyes. Ye Jiuchen suddenly pulled her behind him, the black iron dagger swirling in his palm with a cold light, but stopped when it touched the jade pendant at her waist—a peace pendant made from his bones from his previous life, now emitting a warm glow.