Buried Beneath the Spring, Bones Turn to Dust, Part 1

The demonic monk’s words shocked Yun Yao so deeply that she forgot to probe the flow of energy at the secret realm’s entrance, which she’d been cautiously monitoring.
As the white light surged, she instinctively closed her eyes. Her body felt weightless, her consciousness adrift, as if pulled into another space.

She didn’t know how much time passed before the blinding white light gradually faded.

*Boom—*
A cacophony of bustling noise flooded her ears instantly.

Yun Yao nearly drew the sword hidden in her sleeve.

But before her hand reached the hilt, the scene before her emerged from the dissipating light.

The clamor clarified:

“Spices! Top-grade spices!”
“Miss, fresh rouge and powder just arrived—come take a look!”
“Mother, I want candied hawthorn!”
“Fresh naan, hot from the oven! Come and see!”
“…”

Her hand froze at her temple, stunned.

—
It was nothing like the perilous realm she’d imagined.
No desolate wilderness, no demonic beasts—just a bustling marketplace, teeming with vendors’ cries and the vibrant pulse of mortal life.

If He Fengming weren’t standing beside her like a dumbfounded goose, Yun Yao might’ve thought she’d slipped into someone else’s body again.

“Uncle-Master Yun, are we… seeing ghosts?”

He Fengming muttered, staring incredulously at the lively market.

Yun Yao replied dryly, “We are.”
“!” He turned.
Her gaze swept around, landing on the lone goose with disdain. “Haven’t you noticed? Everyone else is gone except you.”

“…?”

He Fengming spun around, confirming her words—
Before entering Buried Dragon Valley, they were a group. Now, in this bustling market, not a single familiar face remained.
His expression darkened, gripping his sword to charge forward.

“Hold on.” Yun Yao stopped him.

He looked back hopefully. “Uncle-Master, do you know where they are?”

“No clue,” she said calmly. “I’m just saying, don’t rush. There’s worse news.”

He Fengming: “?”

She nodded at his sword. “Try channeling your spiritual energy.”

“…”
Without hesitation, he complied.

Yun Yao lazily turned, scanning the market. In dire situations, people dropped pretenses. He Fengming was indeed more obedient than before entering Hidden Dragon Mountain.
Pity he was a bit dim—Mu Hanyuan was more to her liking. If he were here, he’d have noticed without her prompting…

“My spiritual energy,” He Fengming’s face paled, “why’s it gone?”

Yun Yao sighed. “Not gone—sealed. Haven’t you noticed? There’s not a trace of spiritual energy in this place.”

He stood frozen.
Clearly, his sect-raised worldview never considered a place without spiritual energy.
“Then we can’t even send sword messages?”

“Nope,” she said. “Didn’t you have non-spiritual signals, like fireworks or marks?”

He shook his head, his gaze revealing the clear stupidity of a sect disciple with cultivation and knowledge but no real-world trials.

Yun Yao sighed, giving up on him. “Wait.”

“For who?”

“Mu Hanyuan.”

He Fengming’s expression turned odd. “Uncle-Master Yun… Yaojiu, I know you want to see Hanyuan, but this realm’s strange. Waiting here won’t work.”

She denied it. “I don’t want to see him.”

“Then why—”

“I just know he’ll show up.”

“…” He Fengming: “?”

She didn’t bother explaining, lost in thought.

They stood in the bustling market for a moment.
After an incense stick’s time, under He Fengming’s shifting gaze from doubt to disbelief, Mu Hanyuan appeared in the market ahead.

Not alone—he was followed by Ding Xiao and four other elite Qianmen disciples.

As they approached, He Fengming, shocked, turned back. “How’d you know Hanyuan would find us?”

“Don’t flatter yourself—he’d find *me*,” Yun Yao glanced lazily. “As for you, if you weren’t with me, good luck.”

He Fengming: “…”

After regrouping, he asked eagerly, “Hanyuan, with no spiritual energy here, how’d you find us?”

“…”

Even Ding Xiao and the others couldn’t help glancing at Mu Hanyuan.

When the others vanished, the four were panicked, unsure where to go. But Hanyuan calmly said, “Find Yun Yaojiu first,” and led them through the crowded market.
Without spiritual energy, they wandered aimlessly, barely distinguishing directions, until they found Yun Yao before Hanyuan, as if she’d fallen from the sky.
Their shock was indescribable.

Mu Hanyuan said nothing, looking at Yun Yao.

Trying to stay detached, she touched her forehead, faintly helpless.
His saintly nature was perfect, except for his reliance on her to cover his lies—a bit of a drag.
She was about to make up an excuse—

“I got it!” Ding Xiao clapped suddenly.

“?” Yun Yao looked, surprised.
Had she found a reason for her to use?

Ding Xiao beamed. “Uncle-Master, you were right at Hidden Dragon Mountain!”

“What’d I say?”

Yun Yao blinked, lost. She’d spun too many tales to recall which one.

“You said you and Hanyuan are connected—you’d find each other even if lost!”

Her words silenced the group.

*Connected.*
*Connected.*
*Connected.*
*Connected.*

Yun Yao: “…………”

—Please, some divine lord, take her away *now*!

No gods answered in this realm.

But there was a white-robed immortal.

Mu Hanyuan’s lashes lifted, his pale eyes catching the light, gazing at her coolly.
He didn’t refute a word.

The disciples coughed, gasped, and turned away.

He. Didn’t. Refute!

Yun Yao signaled until her eyes ached, but Mu Hanyuan only tilted his head, his lotus crown slanting.
The “immortal” didn’t grasp her twitching signals.

Her teeth hurt, and with no spiritual energy or soul transmission possible, she couldn’t even send a private message.

Three hundred years as master and disciple!
No tacit understanding at all?!

Her final, frustrated glare seemed to dawn on him. He reacted.

After a brief silence, he nodded clearly. “Mm.”

Yun Yao: “?”

“Between Yun Yaojiu and me, there’s a unique connection,” he said. “No spiritual energy or soul needed to find each other.”

Yun Yao: “…………?”

The disciples nodded, enlightened, their gazes growing stranger, as if they hadn’t quite understood.

Yun Yao turned away expressionlessly, her clenched fists hidden in her sleeves, inwardly slamming her head against a wall.

Fine.
She’d brought this on herself.
Why’d she say such nonsense to rile Yan Ruoyu?

Resigning herself, she calmed and turned back, acting as if nothing happened. “Did you see anyone else on the way?”

The disciples shook their heads.

Mu Hanyuan saw through her. “Who’re you looking for?”

She hesitated, the monk’s eerie words before entering the realm echoing again.

He knew about her demon seed—did he also know how to suppress it?

The thought of a solution to her hopeless situation made her eager.
Her eyes gleamed. “The Red Dust Buddhist. I need to see him soon.”

“…”

Mu Hanyuan paused, his lashes lowering.
Under his gold-trimmed sleeve, something seemed to tighten, pulling his robe into a sharp arc.

Ding Xiao frowned. “Why him, Uncle-Master?”

“Oh, I get it,” another disciple chimed in. “No spiritual energy works here, but Master Liaowu’s Buddhist faith can act. He’d keep us safe and maybe figure out what this place is!”

Ding Xiao looked at Yun Yao. “Is that why, Uncle-Master?”

Yun Yao: “…”
She couldn’t say the monk hinted at their fated calamity and seemed to know about the demon seed.

She nodded sagely. “You’re teachable.”

—

The search continued until sunset, when the vast, lively city quieted, draped in a gauzy twilight haze.

From the third floor of an eatery, peering out the propped window, the city stretched endlessly.

“Sigh, no spiritual energy’s such a hassle. I can’t even see how big this city is,” Ding Xiao slumped on the table. “We’ve walked half a day on foot, not even glimpsing the city wall. We’ll die of exhaustion before finding anyone.”

He Fengming frowned. “This realm’s oddly vast, and with no spiritual energy, it’s like a forbidden zone. The people here are like mortals outside, with no cultivation. How could such a place hold a treasure for ascension?”

Yun Yao smirked, glancing from the window. “You believed that nonsense?”

He Fengming muttered, “I half-believed it.”

“You don’t believe it at all, Uncle-Master?” Ding Xiao leaned forward. “Then why enter?”

“Who do you think?” Yun Yao glanced lazily toward the window.

Unlike her casual posture, the youth there, from his silver crown to his inky hair and jade-belted zither tassel, was impeccable, untouched by dust. Sitting there, he resembled a painting of falling blossoms and snowy mountains under moonlight.
Especially with his eyes lowered, he was like a serene, compassionate jade statue.
The bustling eatery and mortal chaos couldn’t touch his robes.

Yun Yao leaned on the table, chin propped, watching Mu Hanyuan, lost in thought.

Rumors said the holy snow of Tianshan never melted, untouched by mortal dust, but it paled beside his frost.
If she could find a good end this life, maybe she’d beg a soft-hearted god to send this “fleeting master-disciple” to the immortal realm, perhaps as a Buddhist disciple.
Then, her little heavenly fairy would have connections up high…

Lost in her gaze, she didn’t notice the table’s silence or anything amiss.

Ding Xiao’s eyes darted between them.
The other disciples buried their heads, silent.

The “jade statue” finally stirred, his lashes trembling as he came alive from his lotus throne.

“Yun Yaojiu.”

“…Huh?” Yun Yao snapped back, coughing lightly, turning to Ding Xiao. “Where were we?”

Ding Xiao stifled a laugh. “Why we entered the realm.”

“Oh, right.” She turned back to Mu Hanyuan. “Your reason? You don’t seem surprised by this place. Did you know what it was before coming?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“And you still came?”

“…”

He looked at her helplessly. “I only knew this place is tied to the Dragon-Serving Clan. The realm’s name isn’t baseless.”

Yun Yao froze.

*Buried Dragon Valley*?
If it wasn’t baseless…

Her fingers on the table tightened, her expression rare and serious. “An ancient true dragon is buried here?” She shook her head after thinking. “Impossible. I’ve never heard of it.”

Mu Hanyuan gazed at her meaningfully, silent.
She met his eyes wordlessly.

After a quiet moment, He Fengming couldn’t resist, cutting in. “Maybe it’s true? You just haven’t heard?”

Another disciple, excited, added, “If an ancient true dragon’s buried here, maybe the ascension rumor isn’t false!”

“—Tea’s here!”
As he spoke, a waiter, Cui Xiao’er, hurried over with a steaming teapot, eyeing them with a grin. “Guests from outside the city, right?”

The table fell silent, save for the sound of tea pouring.

“I’m Cui Xiao’er. No need to worry—our Dragon-Serving City folks are warm and welcoming! We can spot outsiders instantly, no need to hide!”

Ding Xiao whispered, “Dragon-Serving… City?”

“Yep, Dragon-Serving City, home to our clan for generations. Since the last true dragon died ten thousand years ago, we’ve been isolated here, cut off from the outside.”

Another disciple couldn’t resist. “Is there really a treasure here for ascension?”

Ding Xiao and others frowned, glaring at him for the slip.
He tried to backtrack, but Cui Xiao’er laughed heartily. “Of course!”

The table stilled.

Even Yun Yao, except for the unruffled Mu Hanyuan, looked up in surprise.

Cui Xiao’er set down the teapot. “You see, though there’s no spiritual energy here, everyone in Dragon-Serving City lives agelessly. Isn’t that like ascending to immortality?”

“Ageless…?” The asking disciple gaped.

“Yep, ask around if you don’t believe me,” Cui Xiao’er grinned, pouring more tea.

“Live agelessly, but trapped in this city forever?” Yun Yao suddenly laughed. “Is that immortality or imprisonment?”

“…”

Her blunt words shifted the disciples’ expressions, glancing at her.
But Mu Hanyuan, lashes lowered, showed no objection, silently taking her untouched teacup, his fingers brushing its rim, doing something unknown.
The disciples stayed quiet, watching.

Cui Xiao’er wasn’t offended. “So, you don’t want this immortality?”

Yun Yao’s smile was lazy. “I’ve had enough of cages. What’s the point of such immortality? No thanks.”

“Sigh, that’s tricky then.” Cui Xiao’er set down the teapot.

“Why?”

“You don’t know,” he said regretfully. “Dragon-Serving City allows entry but not exit.”

“—”
Ding Xiao and the others paled.

Yun Yao, unsurprised, exchanged a glance with Mu Hanyuan, who’d looked up, then took the teacup he offered.
Somehow, the scalding tea was now soothingly cool.
She sipped, asking lazily, “There’s a way, isn’t there?”

“There is, but no one’s done it,” Cui Xiao’er smiled. “To leave, within three days of entering, find the city’s treasure: the True Dragon’s Reverse Scale—Dragon Heart Scale.”

“…”

Yun Yao’s eyes lifted over the teacup, mist clinging to her lashes.

Ding Xiao asked skeptically, “Didn’t you say the last true dragon died ten thousand years ago?”

“Exactly. So every outsider who comes here fails to find it and stays trapped, becoming part of us.”

“—?”

As Cui Xiao’er left to serve another table, the Qianmen disciples sat stunned.

Ding Xiao wailed, “Uncle-Master, are we really stuck here forever? I don’t want this immortality!”

“No wonder,” Yun Yao said softly.

“What?”

“When I asked that Fuyu Palace disciple, Xin Chuling, outside, she said no one’s ever left since the realm opened.” Yun Yao propped her chin, tapping her ear. “Seems Cui Xiao’er’s telling the truth.”

“Oh…”
Ding Xiao slumped. “This city’s huge. Finding the Red Dust Buddhist is hard enough, let alone a Dragon Heart Scale we’ve never seen or heard of, maybe not even real—it’s a death sentence!”

He Fengming’s brows knotted. “How’s there such a bizarre realm? We can’t even warn Master not to enter.”

“Without spiritual energy, we’re stuck,” Yun Yao said, absently rubbing her brow. Her immortal seal could still cast spells here, but after using it in the nightmare mist and Mu Hanyuan’s Sea of Seven Emotions, her near-disastrous possession likely stemmed from its backlash loosening her seal.
Unless it was life-or-death, she’d rather not risk it.

Guiltily, she glanced at Mu Hanyuan.

He looked up, catching her gaze.

“Yun Yaojiu?” he said, tilting his head.

She froze—
Why did it feel like he was getting too comfortable calling his master by name?

“You seem hesitant,” he said calmly.

Ding Xiao and the others’ eyes turned to her.
She paused, mumbling, “I was thinking of personal matters, but now it’s more. To find the Dragon Heart Scale, we need the Red Dust Buddhist.”

“…”
Mu Hanyuan gazed at her silently, lowering his eyes.

Ding Xiao and the others rallied, discussing splitting up for efficiency.

After a tea’s time, Cui Xiao’er appeared again. “Tea’s here!”

As Ding Xiao, parched, raised her hand to call him, he approached with a steaming teapot, grinning.

“Guests from outside the city, right?”

Facing the waiter who acted like he didn’t know them, the group froze.

In the eerie silence, he seemed oblivious.
“I’m Cui Xiao’er. No need to worry—our Dragon-Serving City folks are warm and welcoming! We can spot outsiders instantly, no need to hide!”

“—”

The same words.
The same enthusiastic smile.

But now, Cui Xiao’er’s face felt eerie, stiff, and lifeless.

Ding Xiao, goosebumps rising, shakily reached for Yun Yao’s hand. “Un… Uncle-Master…”

Yun Yao frowned too.

After observing him, finding nothing, she looked to Mu Hanyuan.
His expression was cool, unsurprised.

She leaned closer, whispering so Cui Xiao’er couldn’t hear. “Did you notice something?”

He was silent, then raised his palm.
His slender, jade-like fingers unfolded before her, inviting her hand.

She hesitated, then placed her palm on his.

Like the ineradicable demon seed threads in the boy’s body in the Sea of Seven Emotions, faint red threads emerged from his palm, slowly wrapping her wrist.
Moments later, a cool sensation covered her eyes.

*‘Look outward.’*

His faint voice seemed to vibrate through the threads.

She followed, gazing out the window.

The last twilight hues sank below the horizon, swallowed by heavy night.

Street lanterns lit up, stars falling like rain.
As lively as day.

But with Mu Hanyuan’s threads lending her “sight,” Yun Yao saw clearly—
Every laughing, passing figure—men, women, old, young—was a twisted, walking skeleton.