Only the sound of the wind remained.
Whimpering.
Circling.
Like those suffering spirits who had finally found a deity to confide in, they poked their heads out from the darkness, bit by bit.
Cen Yao stood to the side, unconsciously holding her breath.
Suddenly, she saw light.
The first speck of light was very faint.
Like a firefly on the verge of going out.
It drifted from the distant coffee forest, trembling precariously, as if it would be scattered by the night wind at any moment.
Immediately after came a second one.
And a third.
More and more tiny specks of light gathered from all directions toward the dancing figure in the center.
From the breeding area, the production workshop, the abandoned cabin, the coffee forest...
And even from the deeper, more distant darkness.
Those specks of light lit up one after another, like stars buried deep in mud and blood finally being awakened.
Some lights were so weak they were almost formless.
Some lights bore a faint bloody hue, as if harboring unresolved resentment from before their deaths.
They slowly approached Zhu Lingxi, quietly surrounding her.
More and more of them appeared.
Growing brighter and brighter.
The shimmering light of the spirits resembled a sea of stars, eventually converging into a gentle galaxy that peacefully accompanied the young girl at the center.
Beholding this sacred scene, Cen Yao's eyes filled with continuous awe.
It was her first time experiencing the power of the Nuo dance so directly.
It was not simple slaughter, nor was it mere healing.
Instead, it was a warm yet majestic force.
Like the firelight in a brazier,
drawing the souls of the dead close in the cold night.
And like a statue in a temple, giving a temporary refuge to those suffering with nowhere else to turn.
It was a pillar of support for those spirits yearning to have their pain soothed.
Cen Yao did not continue watching.
She quickly withdrew her gaze.
Zhu Lingxi had already drawn the spirits over.
Now, it was her turn.
Cen Yao raised her magic wand and swiftly began setting up the Soul-Condensing Array and the Soul-Stabilizing Array.
Pale purple magic lines flowed from the tip of her wand, landing on the scorched ground before rapidly extending outward.
One magic circle took shape.
A second magic circle took shape.
Over a dozen arrays lit up in succession.
Large ones nested inside small ones, and small ones connected to large ones. The array runes overlapped without conflicting, like a massive, intricate net spreading outward layer by layer with Zhu Lingxi at the center.
Fine beads of sweat soon broke out on Cen Yao's forehead.
The Soul-Condensing Array was responsible for gathering the souls that were on the verge of dispersing.
The Soul-Stabilizing Array was responsible for temporarily stabilizing them so they wouldn't be easily crushed by the dungeon's rules.
There were too many spirits, and they were far too fragile.
Cen Yao did not dare to be distracted even for a split second.
She laid down dozens of arrays of various sizes in one breath. When the final rune settled into the ground, the entire scorched earth glowed with a faint, gentle light.
Almost at the exact moment the arrays activated, Zhu Lingxi's dance reached its finale.
As her final step landed, the moonlight pooled around her feet like water.
The spirits quietly came to a halt by her side, as if they had finally found a place to rest.
Zhu Lingxi raised her hand and slowly took off her mask.
The moment the mask left her face, the divinity surrounding her receded like the tide.
The young girl's face was even paler than before, her lips lacked color, and her fingertips trembled slightly.
Yet she did not speak immediately.
She merely stared blankly at the fragile spirits around her, which seemed to have made a home by her side.
Cen Yao quietly walked up to Zhu Lingxi and placed a gentle, comforting hand on her shoulder.
“These arrays will help condense and stabilize their souls.”
Her palm was very warm, yet she touched her lightly, as if afraid of disturbing the spirits resting within the arrays.
“Don't worry.”
Cen Yao looked at the tiny, glittering specks of light in the air and added earnestly,
“They will get better. I promise.”
Zhu Lingxi did not respond right away.
She stared blankly at a certain spot in the empty air.
The Soul-Condensing Array and Soul-Stabilizing Array overlapped on the scorched ground, their pale purple and light gold runes glowing in concentric circles, holding the spirits—which had previously resembled flickering candles in the wind—firmly within.
Some were merely specks of light the size of rice grains.
Some could barely be distinguished as the silhouettes of cats and dogs.
Others were severely damaged, their light constantly fraying at the edges only to be pulled back together bit by bit by the arrays.
The night wind blew through the coffee trees, carrying the damp scent of vegetation and the lingering, pungent odor of the distant cages.
Only after a long while did she speak.
“I felt all of it.”
Cen Yao turned her head to look at her.
“What?”
Zhu Lingxi lowered her eyes.
She spoke as slowly as ever, but each word carried immense weight.
“Their pain, unwilling resentment, fear, anger, hatred, heartbreak...”
She paused. Those emotions were simply too vast and chaotic, clogging her chest and leaving her at a loss for where to begin.
“So many negative emotions are endlessly entangling them.”
“They want to break free from this endless abyss, but they cannot. They want to let go, but they cannot. They want release, yet they cannot find it.”
She pressed her hand against her chest through her clothes.
Zhu Lingxi was born without a sense of touch.
With her palm pressed against her chest, she couldn't feel the temperature of her clothing, nor could she gauge how hard she was pressing.
Yet, deep within her chest, her heart throbbed with a dense, aching pain.
It felt as though it were being squeezed by something.
It wasn't a sharp pain.
Rather, it was dull and heavy, as if a piece of waterlogged cotton had settled inside, making it difficult for her to breathe.
Zhu Lingxi looked down at her hand pressed against her heart.
“They resent and loathe humans.”
“Yet, they are still willing to pray to me, hoping to receive my salvation.”
As she reached the end, a trace of bewilderment appeared on her face.
“I don't understand.”
“They clearly hate so deeply.”
“Why are they still willing to trust humans?”
Cen Yao did not answer immediately.
She didn't know either.
Those spirits had been harmed, caged, and tortured by humans, unable to escape the shackles of this coffee plantation even in death.
They should hate.
And they had every right to.
But when Zhu Lingxi wore the Nuo mask and danced on the scorched earth after the flames had died down, they still came.
Carrying their full weight of resentment and unyielding pain, they bowed and prayed to a deity who was willing to listen.
Cen Yao's gaze swept over a tiny clump of light within the array.
That light was very small.
So small that it was almost hidden by the surrounding spirits.
Yet, it was trying its best to draw closer to Zhu Lingxi.
Like a kitten injured on a rainy night, trembling with fear but unable to resist drawing closer to the only source of light.
Cen Yao suddenly remembered the dense scratch marks on the cabin wall.
Scratch after scratch.
Clawing until the wood splintered, clawing until claws broke, clawing in despair with no way out.
Her gaze gradually turned cold.
Meanwhile, Zhu Lingxi was still lost in thought.
The aching sensation in her chest reminded her of a long time ago.
Of the day A-Chen left.
On that day, she clearly hadn't been injured, nor had she touched anything sharp.
And yet, she had felt pain.
Rate on N.U.
