NOVPUBLiang didn't respond. But inside, his senses sharpened.
This woman…
Her voice softened, thoughtful now.
"Hmm… Heaven-Severing Mortal Unity Scripture, too? How peculiar. What an interesting little soul you have."
A subtle shift flickered across his face-a faint tightening at the corner of his mouth.
She knew both scriptures.
Who was she?
As if reading his thoughts, she let out a dry chuckle.
"No need to overthink it, little fellow. I was just curious."
She raised a frail hand, pointing toward the river.
"Go on. Feed your Spectral Root with it. That's why you came, isn't it?"
Liang's eyes lingered on her for a moment longer.
Then he stepped forward.
The river lay still. The air around it had turned colder-biting deep into his soul.
He knelt, lowering his hand toward the surface.
His fingertips hovered inches above the water.
This was no ordinary river.
This was the River of Lingering Echoes of the Netherworld. A boundless source of yin essence-but also memory, remnant will, lost souls.
Liang narrowed his eyes. In theory, none of this should affect him.
He plunged his hand in.
Cold hit him instantly-not pain, but numbness. A stripping away. His fingers vanished beneath the surface as if swallowed by a void. The root inside his soul pulsed hungrily; veins glowed faintly as the river's essence flooded in.
A scream echoed. Then another. Dozens. Hundreds. 𝖓𝔬𝔳𝔭𝖚𝖇.𝔠𝔬𝖒
Memories not his own clawed upward. A child trapped in a burning village. A woman weeping before a sealed coffin. A warrior dying alone in a wasteland, clutching shattered jade. Faces, voices, lives-long past, long gone-streaming into his soul, merging with the spectral root.
Liang's expression didn't change. As if none of it touched him.
He anchored himself with the Heaven-Severing Mortal Unity Scripture, letting the invading memories wash through without taking root. His soul remained his own.
The influx peaked. The root inside him stirred.
Tenth vein… strengthened.
Eleventh vein… formed.
Twelfth. Thirteenth. Fourteenth.
The flow quickened. More violent. The spectral root twisted, greedily expanding.
Behind him, the old woman's voice returned-soft as dust on stone.
"Careful now. The river gives freely… but it always takes in kind."
Liang ignored her.
Fifteenth… Sixteenth…
The river's pulse shifted. The soul waters resisted, as if aware of how much he took. Shadows moved beneath the surface-vague shapes, silent watchers. One brushed against his mind.
Who… are… you…
His soul flickered. He didn't answer.
He merely persisted.
Seventeenth vein. Eighteenth.
Suddenly-
The river shuddered.
A deep, thunderous vibration rolled through the surface, like something inside had awakened and found itself bled dry.
Liang's eyes snapped open. The weight of countless souls pressed down on his spirit. The whispers multiplied. What had been background noise now roared like a hurricane:
"Return what was taken-!"
"That pain-was mine-!"
"Thief…!"
Phantom hands surged up from the river-not water, not flesh-but remnants of anger, longing, sorrow, madness. They clawed at Liang's limbs, torso, face. They tore at his soul like drowning corpses dragging him under.
The old woman by the river didn't move. She muttered softly.
"Ah… there it is. The weight of memory. I did say it would take something back."
Liang said nothing. His spiritual form trembled, but his gaze stayed steady.
Nineteenth vein…
Suddenly-a hand shot from the river.
Pale. Boneless. Wreathed in flickering chains of soul mist.
It grasped Liang's forearm.
The river boiled.
A chorus of voices rose-not screams this time, but chanting in a strange language. The words had no shape, no rhythm, yet carved the air like blades.
Liang's eyes narrowed.
Still unmoving, he activated the core incantation of the Heaven-Severing Mortal Unity Scripture. A thin line of golden light slithered down his spine, bursting outward in a silent shockwave.
The hand trembled.
Though the Heaven-Severing Mortal Unity Scripture doesn't nourish or strengthen the soul directly, it grants near-complete immunity to threats like possession and devouring.
Another pulse. The golden line flared again, forcing the chain-wrapped limb to crack, spectral tendons snapping like stretched twine. The river roared-resisting.
Liang's root pulsed. The nineteenth vein ignited.
Then, in one smooth motion, he grasped the spectral hand that held him.
"You want a piece of me?" he said quietly. "Try harder."
A burst of soul power surged from his grip-pure, refined, wrathless. The ghost hand shattered into shards of luminous dust.
Silence returned.
The river stilled.
For a breathless moment, even the Netherworld seemed to hold its breath.
Then-
Twentieth vein.
Behind him, the old woman gave a dry, rasping laugh.
"Well. That's one way to drink from the river."
She turned slightly. Her white, pupil-less eyes bored into his.
"You may just be mad enough to finish it, boy."
Liang stood.
The river's essence now flowed into him without resistance. Smooth. Uninterrupted. The spectral root pulsed like a second heart. Its veins threaded across his soul like ink through water.
He said nothing.
But inside, a quiet certainty settled.
He now held twenty spectral veins. A foundation most cultivators never dared attempt-because to house that much ghostly essence without being devoured required either absolute will…
Or absolute madness.
He began to walk away from the river.
The old woman didn't stop him.
"Be careful, little soul. Those veins don't just pull strength from the nether… they anchor you to it. One misstep-one death and the only thing pulling your strings…"
She raised a hand, miming puppet strings twitching.
"…won't be you."
Liang didn't turn. Didn't reply.
He faded from the Netherworld.
Back in the real world, the air above Heavenly Yin Cliff cracked with frost.
Liang opened his eyes.
What a strange experience, he thought.
Whether it was the river or the old woman-everything felt unreal. And yet…
He could feel the spectral veins pulsing through his soul. Real. As real as hell.
"So, Heaven-Severing Mortal Unity… a well-known Scripture, is it?" he murmured. "Strange-I've never seen it in any texts."
He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Still, this Ten Thousand Nether Veins Art truly is a wondrous technique. No wonder even Tian Shu, without a trace of talent in ghost law, has come this far."
