The familiar souls surged like a tide, then retreated like one. Their abilities were too weak to inflict much harm on these Mortal World cultivators.
Even souls like Xiang Zhiwen, their strength was only relative to other souls, incomparable to cultivators. Their only advantage lay in their sheer numbers.
It was a scene of stark contrast: every day, millions of familiar souls lined up to surge onto the Naihe Bridge in pursuit of a new life; yet tens of thousands of souls resisted losing their past, straining to break through a barrier that seed impossible to crack.
Everyone followed their own path, not interfering with one another.
Hou Niao wished to blend in with the souls fighting and sneak in a few strikes, but he knew it was inappropriate. It would be unfair to those brave souls, unfair to the Daoists, and unfair to the Chu Sect who brought him. It would invite a lot of unnecessary trouble.
He had a gut feeling that if he took action today, he might not be helping these undaunted souls but rather harming them.
He trusted his instinct.
As the souls moved, he was involuntarily swept along, gradually being pushed closer to the Naihe Bridge; in the process, he coincidentally found himself very near a Daoist, none other than the ever-unfriendly towards the Sword Sect, Daoist Hui Yuan.
He was completely confident that if he struck suddenly, he could turn this guy from a Mortal Soul into a Nether Soul, as if there was a devil within him inciting him: strike, no one will ever know...
...Daoist Hui Yuan sensed a foreboding flash across his heart. He didn’t understand why he felt this here; it was inappropriate. But amidst this chaotic scene, his Divine Sense was severely limited, unable to judge where the danger ca from.
The feeling was fleeting. With the waves of souls surging in torrents, the sense of danger gradually dissipated. He knew soone in the crowd harbored murderous intent towards him, but was it a soul or a person?
However, in this special environnt, he couldn’t find a clue, unable to guess, as the distorted faces and bodies revealed nothing of their original appearance.
...Hou Niao missed the best opportunity to act, but he did not regret it. He overca the Heart Demon, rejecting the urge to kill fostered by the surrounding environnt—it was not easy.
He intended to retreat, but found he could no longer turn back, as if a force was pushing him forward; this was the rule of the Naihe Bridge. Once on it, there was no going back.
As a Mortal Soul, most of the Underworld’s rules didn’t affect him, but in the special place of the Naihe Bridge, the rule’s power was imnse. Here lies the transition node of Reincarnation, a place that cannot afford mistakes. Hence, prohibitions constrained by the Reincarnation Great Dao state: better wrongly kill a thousand than let one slip through.
The Underworld relies on two treasures, the Book of Life and Death and the Naihe Bridge, to support most of its operations.
Since he was there, he decided to be at ease. The rule was the rule. As the Naihe Bridge ferries the reincarnated, it could not fundantally harm him, which was also part of the rule.
While still alive, why not taste the ngpo Soup first; it wasn’t bad either.
Before stepping onto the bridge, it felt like the souls crossed very slowly, but upon stepping onto the bridge, it felt fast—after all, nearly a million people cross here every day.
Passing by, a bowl of soup, drink it, disappear... ahead was the Huangquan Road, then Ghost Gate, beyond which lies a new journey of life.
Soon it was his turn. From stepping onto the bridge to standing before ng Po felt like just a few breaths of ti. She was an old lady with a face full of wrinkles, exuding benevolence with a peculiar infectious charm. Under her smile, everyone drank the soup she handed over without hesitation, as if it was Jade Liquid.
But when it was Hou Niao’s turn, she not only handed him a bowl of soup, but also spoke up, a rarity,
"Young man, this is a special soup I prepared for you. Drink it slowly, whether it’s tasty or not, don’t spit it out."
Hou Niao’s heart beat faster, yet it did not stop him from truly sipping the soup. His actions were slower than the other familiar souls, but it did not hinder their crossing. This was not just a bridge, but also an Innate Spiritual Treasure, and ng Po was its Artifact Spirit.
This, unless one stepped onto the Naihe Bridge, would never be understood; only then could this small bridge manage to ferry a million people daily without chaos.
Although it was their first eting, his instinct sensed goodwill from this old lady before him. It seed incredible, but it was his intuition.
"Granny, who would be so daring to vomit after drinking your soup?"
ng Po chuckled, "It was yet another sword bearer dissatisfied with the old lady’s soup, picky as they co, wanted seafood soup, tomato and egg soup... so many demands, in the end drank the soup and then went on a roller coaster, vomiting everywhere!"
Hou Niao was speechless; he wondered which senior of the Quanzhen Sect acted so carefree and unrestrained?
ng Po watched him drink the soup with a smile, "Soup should be savored, sip slowly... Hmm, how does it taste?"
Hou Niao smacked his lips, holding the bowl, "It’s peppery soup, invigorating and warming, with a lingering aftertaste, a good soup!"
ng Po grinned broadly, "Of course it’s good soup. I live south of the river, and love my peppery soup. Want another bowl?"
Hou Niao respectfully extended the bowl again, and ng Po filled it, "Drink slowly. I’ve added many ingredients. Young one, your spiritual power is extraordinary but chaotic and irritable; it’s hard to advance in this way. Why not drink the soup, then bathe in the Wangchuan River. It might bring so change?"
Hou Niao answered respectfully, "I dare not refuse an elder’s gift."
After downing three bowls, a warmth seeped from within, bringing a peculiar sensation. As he was about to vault over the railing to the river, he suddenly rembered sothing and perched on the railing, asking:
"Granny, which Sword Cultivator senior spat out your soup?"
ng Po’s murky eyes rolled as if recalling, "It was one from your Quanzhen Sect, but I dare not say his na. Hmm, it’s been several thousand years, and I’ve forgotten what he looked like... it’s better forgotten, rembering too clearly could be troubleso..."
Hou Niao’s interest was piqued. Several thousand years? That would be before Jinxiu’s spiritual revival—thus, it could only have been one of the founders of the Sword Sect, or perhaps surnad Mu? Or Shi?
He couldn’t untangle the complications for a mont, then leapt into the dark Wangchuan River; in the chaotic scene of reincarnation, nobody noticed another person choosing such a path.
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