He has been reincarnated through countless worlds, adorned with billions of mythological terms!

the other side.

After Yun Yi left, he immediately gave instructions to his clone:

I went to Lanzhou and met Xu Youlan.

Yes, don't kill, make contact.

Shen Qingqing once said:

"The other party did not cultivate martial arts, nor did they cultivate any other system; they went directly to the path of immortality."

In order to maximize their combat power in a short period of time, Reincarnators often master multiple systems, taking advantage of each system's strengths and compensating for their weaknesses.

Zhao Duo practiced three disciplines simultaneously, Xiao Yanzhi specialized in formations but also dabbled in martial arts, and Helian Rong only trained his body because he had taken this path to its extreme—but even so, he also practiced the art of beast taming.

Xu Youlan cultivates nothing else but the path of immortality.

This means that her confidence in the path of immortality is so strong that she can disregard all other systems, and it also means that her attainments in the path of immortality are extraordinary.

Taking direct action in this situation is undoubtedly the worst course of action.

If we're not going to take action, what else can we do?

Of course, you should ask for it directly.

If he could give it to him, great; if not, he wanted to test the strength of this reincarnated being who had gone through countless lifetimes.

When the clone received the order, it was standing atop a cliff on an unnamed mountain in the northern border of the Great Yan. Countless puppet remains were scattered at the foot of the mountain.

In the past month or so, he has only killed three reincarnators, obtaining their complete cultivation systems and memories.

It's not that the efficiency is slow, but that these reincarnators are too fast and have too many ways to survive.

Most of those puppets were villagers from the foot of the mountain and people from a certain city, who were unknowingly transformed into puppets.

He buried them on the mountaintop—from there, one could see the sunrise, the surrounding mountains for miles around, and the shimmering river at the foot of the mountain.

Then he received instructions.

The clone stood on the edge of the cliff and read the message sent by the original.

Not kill?

He tilted his head.

In that month, he killed three reincarnators and extracted fifty-seven cultivation techniques from their sea of ​​consciousness.

Each time he reads it, the fear, resentment, pleas for mercy, curses, and memories from countless worlds of those people flow back into his consciousness along the golden threads of faith.

He didn't feel uncomfortable.

Compared to the echoes of the faith of tens of thousands of people, and the thoughts of hundreds of thousands of impoverished people, this little thing is nothing.

He just found it troublesome.

Each time you clear away those fragmented memories, you have to organize them before transmitting them to avoid contaminating the original body.

These things are far more troublesome than actually killing someone.

The clone withdrew its hand, turned around, and walked down the mountain.

The sound of footsteps faded away on the rocks.

Lanzhou, during the Song Dynasty.

It is a medium-sized prefecture that prospered and declined because of trade routes. In its youth, it flourished for decades thanks to a trade route to the Western Regions. Later, the trade route was changed, and Lanzhou was like a flower that was plucked halfway through its bloom, stopping in a state of fading beauty.

Chunfenglou was the most popular brothel in Lanzhou.

It's not because the girl is the prettiest, but because Xu Youlan is here.

She grew up here.

One person, one instrument.

When the madam later recounted what happened that day, she would always slap her thigh in exasperation:

"I've been in business for thirty years and I've never seen anything like this."

"She walked in, didn't say a word, sat down in the middle of the hall, and played a piece of music."

"After the performance, the whole street became quiet."

"From that day on, the signboard of Chunfenglou was changed to her name."

It was evening when the clone entered Chunfeng Tower.

He changed into a clean white robe, concealed the gold in his pupils, and made himself look like an ordinary, excessively handsome martial arts practitioner.

The madam came forward, her smile barely halfway through, when he placed a silver ingot on the table.

"Xu Youlan".

The madam's smile paused for a moment, then returned, thicker and more cautious than before:

"Young master, your timing is perfect. Miss Youlan happens to have guests tonight—"

Before he could finish speaking, the door to the private room on the second floor opened.

One hand rests on the railing.

That hand was so white that it almost gleamed with a faint, cold light in the dim evening light.

Her fingers were long and slender with well-proportioned joints, and her nails were neatly trimmed, without the balsam juice that courtesans of that era would apply.

It is a hand that plays the piano, and it is also a hand that kills.

Xu Youlan came out from behind the door.

She wore a moon-white dress made of very plain material, with only a few very pale orchids embroidered on the cuffs and collar.

Her hair wasn't styled into an elaborate bun; it was simply tied back with a white jade hairpin, with a few stray strands falling beside her face, swaying gently as she moved.

Her face was younger than Shen Qingqing had described—her features were so delicate that they looked as if they had been drawn stroke by stroke with the finest brush.

But those eyes held so much, so much that it overflowed, yet they appeared remarkably calm.

It's like a glass filled with water, the water has reached the rim, but the surface is as smooth as a mirror, without even a ripple.

Xu Youlan stopped by the railing and looked down at her clone in the hall.

The two, one above the other, met in mid-air.

"Come on up."

After she finished speaking, she turned around and went back to the private room, leaving the door open.

The private room was small and simply furnished.

A screen, a zither table, an incense burner, and a pot of tea.

Xu Youlan sat behind the zither table, one hand casually resting on the strings, not playing, just sitting there.

The zither is an ancient zither, with mottled lacquer and cracks like flowing water; it is a very old zither.

The clone sat down opposite her.

The two were three feet apart, separated by a zither and the wisps of incense smoke.

Xu Youlan looked at him for a long while, then said:

"You didn't come here to kill me."

He said this with great confidence.

"no."

Xu Youlan nodded, as if confirming something that didn't really need to be confirmed.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"trade."

"What kind of deal?"

"Cultivation Techniques"

"All the cultivation techniques you've collected in these hundred worlds."

Xu Youlan was neither surprised, nor angry, nor even amused.

She simply tilted her head slightly and asked in a very calm tone:

"What will you trade?"

"life."

Xu Youlan looked at the clone, and something finally appeared in her calm, almost indifferent eyes.

It wasn't murderous intent, it was interest.

It's like someone who has been walking in the desert for a long time suddenly seeing a flower—not because the flower can quench their thirst, but simply because it's there.

"You think you can kill me?"

"have no idea."

The clone said, "I haven't tried it."

Xu Youlan suddenly smiled.

The smile was so gentle, like the first ripple on the surface of water when the wind blows, disappearing before it could spread.

She lifted her hands off the strings, her fingertips hovering above them for a moment before falling back down.

One sound.

It's just one sound.

The sound of the vibrating strings spread from the zither table, through the screen, through the doors and windows, through the walls of Chunfeng Tower, through the streets of Lanzhou, through the city walls, and through the wilderness.

Then the world went quiet.

It's not that the sound disappeared, but that all sounds were swallowed up by this one sound.

The footsteps of pedestrians on the street, the cries of vendors in the distance, the laughter from the other private rooms of Chunfeng Tower, the chirping of sparrows on the eaves, and the whistling of the wind blowing through the street—all disappeared.

Like a drop of ink falling into clear water, turning the entire glass of water black.

The immortals transform into gods, and their words become law.

She doesn't need to speak; her music is the law of heaven and earth.

The clone sat in place, the space around it locked by the sound of the zither.

Even the air stopped moving, and the speed at which light traveled through this space slowed down.

He glanced down at the back of his hand, where a thin layer of frost appeared on his pale golden skin.

All movement in this world was taken away by that one note of the zither, leaving only stillness, absolute stillness, without end.

Xu Youlan looked at him and touched the second string with her fingertips.

"You're not the first reincarnator to come to me, but you're the wildest."

Her voice carried through the still air, not swallowed by the piano music, but rather exceptionally clear: "I hope your skill is as arrogant as your confidence."