014 Encounter (2)

Nuoluo walked with unwavering resolve, every step leaving a distinct print in the snow. She was determined to pass her conviction on—to those still struggling on the edge of death, to those grasping for hope just ahead. Her footprints melded with the earth, and though blanketed by ice and snow, the power of hope could not be concealed. Hope could never be vanquished by any force.

Through the long currents of history, there exists a force that grows stronger as time accumulates, never fading with its passage. Like seeds sown, one day, they will break through the earth.

Night gradually descended, the land shrouded in hazy moonlight, devoid of warmth.

On the cold, deserted earth, not a soul walked; the pale expanse reflected a desolate moon, pierced by the howling north wind. In the eerie distance, two elongated shadows appeared, stretching into sight.

One tall, one short—both cloaked in black attire, their long hair tied and streaming behind, like two spirits in the night, bringing a sliver of vitality to the land.

Yes, it had been a long time since anyone dared to walk under the cover of darkness.

Too many had died recently. The survivors, under the guidance of the deities in the Temple of the Earth Mother, drew upon their last reserves of strength, hoping for the rekindling of the Sacred Fire at the earth’s core.

Too many deaths—the night inevitably brought encounters with lingering souls.

These two figures, seemingly unaware of danger, halted at what looked like a hillside.

The shorter one sat abruptly on the ground, grumbling incessantly.

"Niaoniao doesn’t want to be like this. Niaoniao wants to return to how things used to be. And these black clothes—they make Niaoniao feel like she’s turning into a black crow." No doubt, it was Niaoniao, that wondrous bird.

"Pfft," Nuoluo exaggerated a look. "Had you not mentioned it, I wouldn’t have remembered. Now that I see, you really do look the part." Nuoluo couldn’t help but gloat.

Niaoniao ground her teeth, wishing to give this schadenfreude companion a bite.

"Nuoluo, why must we become like this? Wouldn’t it be better to return to how we were? I really don’t understand."

"Niaoniao, think harder."

"Niaoniao doesn’t get it."

"The Underworld is only accessible to the souls of the dead. If we go directly, our aura is too strong—we’ll be easily discovered. Besides, the River of Three Crossings is only passable by spirits of the dead. We can’t cross." Nuoluo patiently explained.

"Niaoniao still doesn’t get it," Niaoniao’s eyes reflected confusion.

"Throughout this journey, we’ve disguised ourselves as humans and absorbed their aura. Now, with so many spirits roaming, our own presence is diluted. By deliberately concealing every trace of divinity, we hide our true nature. Black attire simply helps us blend into the Underworld."

Nuoluo paused. She had never been to the Underworld herself, so she could only form a rough idea of what it was like. The Underworld—the legendary realm cloaked in darkness.

No color, no hope, no future—only the endless weeping of lost souls.

Along this journey, Nuoluo had transformed herself into an ordinary woman, turning her golden hair black, exchanging her brilliant red dress for a pitch-black outfit, appearing in an entirely new guise.

But the most dramatic change was Niaoniao. Originally, she had intended Niaoniao to transform into a black crow, but astonishingly, Niaoniao could become human. Once transformed, Niaoniao’s gender was impossible to distinguish.

Her skin was crystalline, delicate as silk. Fiery red hair streamed in the wind, and her crimson robe, splendid as the setting sun, billowed with an alluring sheen beneath the faint light.

Exquisite, breathtaking.

In the blink of an eye, she had become this shadow—dressed in a dark robe, her hair now lusterless black, her once luminous skin dulled. With her piercing voice, she truly resembled a spirit crow.

Now, they were but two ordinary figures—no remarkable appearance, no distinctive aura. Disheveled and forlorn.

Niaoniao had countless urges to howl at the sky. When would these days end? What had happened to her image?

"You needn’t say it. Niaoniao herself can hardly believe she’s a deity. Has there ever been a god so miserable?" For the ten-thousandth time, Niaoniao threw Nuoluo a glare, wielding her gaze like a dagger at the culprit who’d led her into this plight, entirely forgetting how she herself had once schemed to follow Nuoluo.

Nuoluo ignored her. Niaoniao’s attitude meant she was still normal; if she had no reaction at all, that would be concerning.

Yet, Niaoniao’s gender remained a mystery. The bird guarded all her secrets fiercely. Who was Niaoniao, really? Perhaps only when she chose to reveal it would the truth be known.

Entrance to the Underworld

Nuoluo and Niaoniao exchanged a glance. Worry flickered in both their eyes. At last, they were about to enter this enigmatic world—the world of death.

Nuoluo gripped Niaoniao’s claw tightly—or rather, her hand now—stepped through the gateway, and entered the Underworld.

A wind rose from nowhere, its wailing howl carrying sharp shards of stone that silently tore through everything in their path. Cruel, merciless.

Soundless sobs mingled with the wind, voiceless cries seeped into the soul—who was mourning, who was grieving? Unseen, unheard, all of it stirring the wounds buried deep within, sharp and bone-gnawing.

A world of lamentation, a world of silence, so still one could hear the beating of one’s heart, yet so tumultuous it felt like a bustling marketplace. In this paradoxical, harmonious chaos, everything merged quietly, together building this mysterious and unfathomable realm.

A world stretching beyond sight, a horizon where hope could not be found. No sunshine, no starlight. As if darkness were torn to pieces, the fragments reflecting every corner of this realm. Unknown ghostly glows cast upon lifeless landscapes, plunging all further into shadow.

The undulating mountains extended into the distance, vanishing at the farthest edge. Peaks, like swords, thrust straight into the gloomy sky, their sinister aura rising, exuding deadly intent—silent challenges to the heavens, daring the very limits of the firmament.

Encircled by mountains, a river flowed, its wide expanse dividing the earth in two. Across it, the landscape was shrouded in mist, distant and elusive.

The turbid waters churned ceaselessly, shattered waves echoing heartbreak, surging violently as they battered the banks. Countless stones swept into the river by the assault, swallowed instantly.

Spray rolled in the air, as if roaring, as if howling in fury.

Nuoluo quietly held her breath, Niaoniao pressed close by her side. Their figures hid in the darkest corners, careful not to disturb anything here.

In the dim, night-like surroundings, they calmly observed. Their bodies fought against the chill. Compared to this place, Lake of the Spirit Mirror was as warm as Sunset Mountain.

The drifting cold carried notes of lamentation—a sorrow for bygone happiness. If the realm of memories in the Spirit Mirror Lake recalled the most painful moments of one’s life, memories best left untouched for fear of disappointment or heartbreak, then everything here was despair. Struggling in helplessness, marching through darkness, each step weighed down, each step resigned. In the end, after so much struggle, one realizes escape from fate is impossible. And so, resistance is abandoned, struggle forsaken, longing only for an end—whatever the cost. Here, perhaps, death is the best conclusion.

Nuoluo stretched out her fingers. Each finger screamed for surrender—for giving up. Glancing at Niaoniao, she seemed to be in much the same state. Suddenly, Nuoluo jolted—what was she doing? How had it come to this? She pinched herself hard, pain shooting through her body, her mind snapping clear. She reached back and slapped Niaoniao, who shuddered violently, her round bird eyes blazing with anger.

"You dare treat Niaoniao like this? Niaoniao almost—"

Before she could finish, Nuoluo covered her mouth, lowering her voice to a whisper, "Quiet, we haven’t figured out the situation yet. Do you want to draw attention?" With a dissatisfied smack to Niaoniao’s forehead, she added, "Stay alert."

Niaoniao muttered grievance in her heart, "It really hurts!" She noticed Nuoluo no longer treated her as she did when they first met. Now, whenever there was an opportunity for a little revenge, Nuoluo would never let it pass. When had things changed? It was a question Niaoniao vowed to ponder when she had time—where had it all gone wrong?

Nuoluo slapped Niaoniao again, snapping her out of her daydream, "Focus, don’t think about nonsense."

Niaoniao: "..."

Niaoniao endured it. Revenge could wait ten years—not really; as soon as they reached safety, she would have her retribution. For now, Niaoniao had to suppress her anger, her furious bird eyes darting, planning one malicious revenge after another, growing ever more delighted with each thought.

Nuoluo found it increasingly natural to smack Niaoniao, knocking her head to exercise her fingers, and incidentally helping clear her dull mind—a win-win.

If Niaoniao could read Nuoluo’s thoughts, she would surely cough up blood.

Both were lost in their own musings, but their eyes never left the river before them. To reach the other shore, they must cross, but how? How could they cross safely? The path ahead was long—any mishap now would be disastrous.