Chapter Thirteen: The Dream Butterfly

A sudden chill swept in with the evening breeze, thin clouds slowly veiling the last of the sun. Within the city, there was a deathly stillness—no sign of life anywhere. Dappled shadows of trees wavered in the wind, and the rustling of leaves sounded as soft as whispered conversation. If one listened closely, footsteps could be heard, hurried and restless along the desolate road, as if someone was searching for something.

At the end of a deep alley, a figure darted out, leaping onto the wall to scan the surroundings. The vast ancient city seemed to slumber, its silence broken only by a faint, hidden breath. The figure listened intently for some time, fingers unconsciously resting on the jade ornament at their waist, their expression grave. After a moment, they set off purposefully in a chosen direction.

Chi Yuan’s forehead burned more fiercely; he snapped his eyes open to find himself surrounded by decay. The moonlight was bright and cold, and the trees loomed tall and wild. Raising himself up, Chi Yuan rubbed the ache between his brows, but out of the corner of his eye caught sight of several battered butterflies still fluttering weakly on the ground.

Butterflies? Chi Yuan reached out hesitantly, only to snatch his hand back at once.

No, something was wrong. He recalled his inexplicable fainting, the fragments of a broken dream—the presence of these butterflies was too peculiar to dismiss.

The image of Xiao Yuan flashed across his mind, and a sense of foreboding seized him. Chi Yuan tried to summon Wuya, but there was no response from the mark on his brow; he could only call forth Frost and grip it tightly in his hand.

The symbol on his forehead throbbed with searing heat. Closing his eyes to concentrate, Chi Yuan sent his spiritual sense searching for any trace of connection with Wuya. A faint, threadlike presence brushed against his senses. Retracting his spirit, Chi Yuan set off urgently in the direction from which it came.

As the tenuous thread of energy weakened further, anxiety gripped Chi Yuan’s heart. In just a few breaths, he crossed rooftops and finally caught sight of Xiao Yuan.

Xiao Yuan was slumped unconscious beneath the eaves of a tavern, brow furrowed in pain, eyes tightly shut, her spiritual form nearly transparent—as if wind might scatter her at any moment. Many black butterflies perched upon her, their wings opening and closing as though feeding on something unseen.

The burning pain on Chi Yuan’s brow had faded, but the distress in Xiao Yuan’s expression only deepened his unease. He rushed forward and half-supported her, startled at how light she was—like a wisp of cloud, her breath barely lingering.

“Xiao Yuan?”

He called her name tentatively, but the black butterflies, wings fluttering, leapt as if to attack him, only to veer away mid-flight.

Chi Yuan tried to wave the strange butterflies away, but his efforts seemed only to excite them further; they circled the two of them in a frenzied dance.

Frost gathered in his palm, forming sharp icicles that pierced toward the cluster of black butterflies. Yet the icicles passed through them without resistance, leaving the butterflies unaffected and undisturbed.

These butterflies—were they not corporeal?

Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the far side of the street—a slow, measured tread, accompanied by the crisp tapping of a bamboo staff on the stone pavement.

Following the sound, Chi Yuan saw a small, stooped old woman approaching, leaning on a long green bamboo cane. Her clothing, though obviously of fine material, was filthy and tattered, giving her the look of a beggar rather than a lady of status.

Chi Yuan grew wary, his right hand stealthily resting on the hilt of Frost. “Elder, who are you? Do you know what has happened in this city?”

The woman did not reply, but continued forward step by step. Only then did Chi Yuan sense—through his spiritual perception—that she was an ordinary mortal. Strange, he thought, that a mortal could move so freely in such an ominous city.

The old woman drew near, glanced at Chi Yuan, and remarked, “Such a handsome young man—he’d make a good match for my Ying’er.” Then, quite unexpectedly, she burst into tears. “Ying’er… my Ying’er… and Zhi’er… Heaven is blind! Why must I suffer so?”

Chi Yuan guessed she must have lost her loved ones and been driven mad by grief. Compassion stirred within him, but saving lives was the greater urgency now. He cast a calming spell and asked gently, “Elder, what happened here?”

Her eyes cleared from their former haze. “It’s all Mount Shu—those wicked Taoists from Mount Shu! They are nothing but demons in disguise!”

Chi Yuan’s brow furrowed. Mount Shu again.

The old woman continued, “Four days ago, several Taoists from Mount Shu arrived, claiming there were evil spirits in the city and that they must exorcise them to protect the people. But they insisted my Zhi’er lead them to the ancestral shrine of the Ji family. My poor Zhi’er, unaware of their true intentions, took them there.”

“Evil spirits, they said—but what they wanted was the divine sword our family has guarded for generations!”

“Zhi’er tried to stop them, but these vicious Taoists slaughtered seventeen members of my family, sparing only me because I wasn’t found. They broke the seal on the Butterfly’s Shadow, unleashed the Dream-Soul Butterflies, and doomed tens of thousands in this city—they are monsters!”

“The Dream-Soul Butterflies you speak of—are they these black butterflies? And what is the Butterfly’s Shadow you mentioned?”

“My ancestor was a great cultivator, who acquired the divine sword Butterfly’s Shadow in an immortal’s cave. For a time, none could rival him. But the sword was too powerful, and it turned on its master, tormenting him with unbearable suffering until he could no longer fight. Disheartened, he secluded himself here, forbidding his descendants from practicing cultivation and decreeing that none should ever touch the sword, so future generations would not suffer as he had.”

“But Butterfly’s Shadow was too powerful, and being forged from butterflies, it soon attracted many Dream-Soul Butterflies to this place. These demonic butterflies feed on human souls, luring people into dreams and devouring their spirits. Ordinary mortals perish within days, even those with strong souls do not survive more than ten or so days.”

“My ancestor could not bear to see innocents harmed, so he used the last of his life force to set a seal, suppressing both Butterfly’s Shadow and the Dream-Soul Butterflies. He removed the Nightmare Pearl from the sword and entrusted it to his descendants, commanding that should the seal weaken, the bearer of the pearl must go to the ancestral shrine and use the family’s spirit stone to strengthen the seal, activating an illusion array to keep outsiders away. For a thousand years, though the seal often weakened, disaster was always averted. But now, with the seal broken, there is nothing left for us but to await death.” The old woman’s words ended in a heavy sigh.

“Elder, where is this seal? I, too, am a cultivator—perhaps I can restore it. But my friend here is in grave danger; I must ask you to look after her.” Though Chi Yuan spoke thus, the worry in his voice was clear. He himself did not know how to save Xiao Yuan—how could a mere mortal succeed where he could not?

The old woman’s eyes brightened. “If you truly can restore the seal, that would be wonderful. As for your friend, do not worry. Do you recall the Nightmare Pearl I mentioned?” With her left hand, she took a pendant from around her neck—a lustrous, translucent pearl glowing faintly with purple light. “This pearl can ward off the Dream-Soul Butterflies. Put it on your friend and she should be safe.”

“But without the pearl’s protection, what about you?”

“I am but a mortal, unable to save the townsfolk. If you can restore the seal and save our people, what is a little risk to me? I have not your immortal powers—this is all I can do.”

“Why do you trust me so?”

“When you awoke, you did not abandon your companion but stayed by her side. Someone like that deserves my trust—and besides, I have no other choice. Young man, the seal is in the Ji family estate in the north of the city. I entrust the city to you!” With that, she held out the Nightmare Pearl to him.

“I will not fail you,” Chi Yuan replied solemnly, taking the pearl.

The old woman released her grip and slumped forward. Chi Yuan quickly caught her and settled her against a tavern bench, then hurried to Xiao Yuan’s side to fasten the pearl around her neck.

As soon as the pearl was in place, the Dream-Soul Butterflies scattered from Xiao Yuan’s body, and the pain in her expression eased. Chi Yuan rose at once, mounted his sword, and sped toward the northern part of the city.

In a flash, he arrived at the city’s north gate, where a grand mansion came into view. Above the doors hung a plaque: “Ji Estate.” Leaping down from his sword, Chi Yuan summoned Frost into his hand and entered through the main gate.

No sooner had he stepped inside than the heavy stench of blood assaulted him—bodies lay everywhere.

Suddenly, a hand clapped his shoulder from behind. Instinctively, Chi Yuan dodged aside and thrust Frost backward in a swift, defensive strike.