The Nine-Year-Old Soul Elder Awakens

The moment the moonlight snapped, everyone froze.

Yun Ming stood before the window of the Sea God Pavilion, watching that thin silver thread vanish as the moonlight dispersed, spilling across the entire Sea God Lake.

His hand tightened slightly, and just as he was about to step forward—

A figure had already rushed out.

Zhuo Shi.

He was faster than anyone, so fast that he didn't even leave behind an afterimage.

Eleven months of guilt, eleven months of waiting, eleven months of "what if that thing wasn't a Solid Essence Fruit" exploding in his mind; he only wanted to rush to that door, push it open, and see if the child was still there.

He arrived.

The door was closed.

He reached out and pushed; the door opened.

That thin layer of silver light had vanished.

Zhuo Shi rushed in and caught sight of the small figure on the bed at once.

He opened his mouth, wanting to call out "Jingheng," but his throat felt as if it were blocked by something.

His eye sockets grew hot, his nose stung, and something threatened to well up—

Then, he smelled it.

Sour, foul, fishy—as if something had been rotting in the room for eleven whole months.

The stench surged straight into his nasal cavity, and before Zhuo Shi's tears could even fall, they were forcibly stifled back by the fumes.

His expression shifted from grief to astonishment, from astonishment to distortion, and then he abruptly retreated two steps, covering his nose and letting out a muffled groan.

"What is that smell—!"

Yun Ming was the second to enter.

He stood at the doorway, looked at the child on the bed, remained silent for a second, and then covered his nose as well.

Long Yeyue followed behind; she had barely stepped one foot in before she retreated.

Feng Wuyu poked his head in, then shrank back.

Cai Yue'er didn't even enter; she glanced inside from across the doorframe, and her expression changed.

Ya Li arrived last.

She stood at the doorway, looking at the figure on the bed, neither covering her nose nor retreating.

She simply watched, her eyes turning red.

Lying on the bed was a pitch-black object.

Human-shaped.

One could not see the face, nor the hands or feet; one could only discern the outline of a person.

That black substance covered his entire body in a thick layer, like asphalt, like sludge, like something that should not exist within a human body.

Impurities.

For eleven months, the Extreme Path Nirvana Fruit had purged every impurity, every deposit, and every stain from within his body.

A thick layer, wrapped around him like a shell.

And surrounding this shell, three soul rings rotated slowly.

The first ring, pale purple.

It was not the deep purple from before, but a faint, clear purple, like the first ray of dawn.

The second ring, deep purple.

So rich it bordered on black, carrying a faint suction force as it rotated.

The third ring, pale black.

Not pure black, but that specific shade that had just crossed the threshold from deep purple, carrying a hint of violet.

Like the sky before dawn, at its darkest moment.

Three soul rings.

He was a Soul Elder.

Zhuo Shi covered his nose, staring at those three soul rings; his eyes were still red, but his tears had been dried by the stench.

He stood there, his expression complex.

Yun Ming walked over and came to a stop by the bedside.

He looked down at the child wrapped in impurities, remained silent for a moment, and then reached out.

Soul power surged from his palm, gently lifting that small body as if cradling something fragile.

The body was light, as light as a feather.

Yun Ming's hand paused for a moment, then he carefully lifted him up and walked toward the bathroom.

Ya Li followed, saying, "Let me do it."

Yun Ming shook his head. "I will."

He placed the child into the bathtub, his soul power transforming into warm water, washing away the layer of impurities bit by bit.

The black grime was carried away by the water, revealing the skin beneath.

It was much whiter, more than a shade lighter than before, white as moonlight.

Where the water flowed, the skin was as delicate as jade, faintly glowing with a luster.

Yun Ming did not speak, simply washing him in silence.

Ya Li stood at the doorway, watching his back, also remaining silent.

Zhuo Shi stood in the corridor, leaning against the wall, gasping for air.

Long Yeyue leaned against the opposite wall, watching him.

"What is that expression on your face?" she asked.

Zhuo Shi did not speak.

He remembered when he had handed that fruit to Yun Jingheng; the child had looked up at him, called out "Grandpa Zhuo," and then put the fruit into his mouth.

He remembered that silver light, the door that could not be pushed open, and the eleven moons.

"It was me who gave it to him," he said in a low voice.

Long Yeyue looked at him, and Zhuo Shi kept his head bowed. "No matter what that was, I was the one who gave it to him."

Long Yeyue was silent for a moment. "He is fine."

Zhuo Shi looked up, and Long Yeyue glanced toward the direction of the bathroom. "He's at the three-ring level now, living very well."

Zhuo Shi did not speak.

He stood there, listening to the sound of water in the bathroom, not moving for a long time.

Feng Wuyu patted him on the shoulder, uncharacteristically refraining from any sarcasm.

When Yun Jingheng woke up, it was already three days later.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

It was not the ceiling of his own room, but another one, larger and brighter.

The sunlight from outside the window shone through the gap in the curtains, casting a thin line of light onto the floor.

He stared at that line of light for a long time, then tried to move his finger.

His finger did not move.

He tried again.

Still, it did not move.

His fingers felt as if they were being pressed down by something, heavy and completely unresponsive.

He tried to turn his head, but his neck would not budge either.

He wanted to speak, but his lips would not open.

His entire body felt like a stone, lying stiffly on the bed; only his eyes could move, and only his mind was clear.

He lay there for a while, then felt something on the back of his left hand.

Cool and thin, it was a tube.

The other end of the tube was connected to a transparent bag hanging on a stand by the bed, and the liquid inside dripped down one drop at a time, very slowly and steadily.

Saline? Or nutrient solution?

He suddenly understood; he must have entered a state of deep meditation, likely having gone without food for a long time, leaving his body completely drained.

Right now, he didn't even have the strength to move a single finger.

Footsteps sounded at the door, very light.

Ya Li pushed the door open, carrying a bowl in her hands.

She saw that Yun Jingheng had his eyes open and froze for a moment, the bowl nearly slipping from her hands.

She walked over quickly, placed the bowl on the bedside table, and looked down at him.

"You're awake?"

Her voice was very soft, so soft it was as if she were afraid of disturbing something.

Yun Jingheng wanted to answer, but his lips could not move, and no sound could come from his throat.

He simply looked at her and blinked.

Ya Li's eyes turned red.

She reached out, gently touching his forehead, then his cheek.

Her fingers were warm, trembling slightly.

"Don't move," she said, "you've slept too long; your body hasn't recovered yet."

She sat down by the bedside and picked up the bowl on the nightstand.

Inside the bowl was rice porridge, very thin, almost entirely water.

She scooped up a little with a spoon and brought it to his lips.

"Drink slowly, don't rush."

When the spoon touched his lips, Yun Jingheng finally realized how thirsty he was.

The rice porridge flowed into his mouth, bland and tasteless, yet he felt it was the best thing he had ever tasted in his life.

He swallowed, his throat feeling as if it had been scrubbed with sandpaper, aching intensely.

Ya Li scooped another spoonful, and he drank it slowly.

One spoonful, another, and then another.

After he had finished nearly half the bowl, Ya Li stopped.

"That's enough, drink more tomorrow. Your stomach can't take it."

Yun Jingheng blinked.

Ya Li set the bowl down, wiped the corner of his mouth with a cloth, and then sat by the bed, watching him.

"You slept for a year," she said.

How long?!

A year?! I didn't die from that?!

Damn, I'm tough as nails!

Yun Jingheng looked at her.

Ya Li's gaze was calm, but the hand resting on her knee was trembling incessantly.

"That fruit your Grandpa Zhuo gave you wasn't a Solid Essence Fruit; none of us knew what it was. After you ate it, you entered a deep meditation."

She paused. "The moon changed. It stayed full, stayed bright, and cast all its light upon you, for an entire year."

Yun Jingheng listened, wanting to say something, but his lips still wouldn't move.

Ya Li looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"It's alright," she said, "as long as you're awake."

She reached out to tuck the quilt around him and pulled the curtains tighter to block out the sunlight from outside.

"Sleep a little longer, I'm right here."

Yun Jingheng wanted to say he had just woken up and didn't want to sleep anymore.

But his eyelids were already uncontrollably drooping.

The last thing he saw was Ya Li sitting by the bed, one hand holding his, feeling very warm.

He fell asleep again.

When he woke up again, it was already dark.

There were no lights on in the room, and moonlight shone through the gap in the curtains, falling onto the floor in a thin sliver.

Yun Jingheng tried to move his fingers.

They moved.

Very slowly, but they definitely moved.

He tried to turn his head; his neck was as stiff as a rusted bearing, but he managed to turn it.

Damn... this is so uncomfortable...

By the bedside, Ya Li was leaning against a chair, asleep.

Her hand was still holding his, not having let go.

Yun Jingheng looked at her, watching her profile in the moonlight.

There seemed to be a few white hairs in her hair, and fine lines had appeared at the corners of her eyes. Her sleeping posture was uncomfortable, and her brows were slightly furrowed.

He watched for a while, then slowly turned his head to look out the window.

The moonlight was thin, only a small sliver, but it was very bright.

It was the same as before, the same moonlight that had shone in every night while he slept.

It fell upon him, light and soft, flowing in like water.

It needed no guidance, no circulation; it flowed of its own accord.

The next morning, when Ya Li woke up, she saw Yun Jingheng watching her with his eyes open.

She froze for a moment.

"Awake?"

Yun Jingheng moved his lips.

This time, he made a sound—very soft, very hoarse, like a string that hadn't been used in a long time.

"Mo... ther..."

Ya Li's tears finally fell.

She didn't make a sound, only gripped Yun Jingheng's hand, her tears dropping one by one onto the bedsheets.

Yun Jingheng looked at her, wanting to say something, but his throat was too dry.

He simply watched her, slowly curling the corners of his mouth.

Ya Li wiped away her tears and stood up. "I'll go get you something to eat."

She walked to the door, then looked back. "Your father went to handle matters outside. Those factions have been prying for a year, and now that the Moonlight has broken, they all want to come and ask questions. He's holding them off."

Yun Jingheng blinked, Ya Li smiled, and she left.

Yun Jingheng lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Sunlight shone in through the gap in the curtains, falling upon him, warm and cozy.

He slowly raised his hand, lifting it before his eyes.

The hand was very pale, having thinned significantly, with distinct knuckles and fingers that trembled slightly.

But he could move; he clenched his fist, the strength minimal, but it was indeed recovering.

He lowered his hand and sank into his Sea of Consciousness.

The Sea of Consciousness had grown larger—much larger than before.

That moon hung right in the center, several times larger than before, its radiance many times brighter, steadily and slowly emitting moonlight.

Xiao Jiu was curled up there, wrapping itself into a ball with its nine tails, sleeping soundly.

Its fur was much brighter than before, every strand shimmering with a silver luster.

Yun Jingheng looked at it but did not wake it up.

He withdrew from the Sea of Consciousness and then slowly closed his eyes.

It felt so uncomfortable...

But... it seemed like something had changed?