"The Grand Square Pot can absorb the Resentful Souls of the Panlong Wasteland. Zhong Shengguang was one of them, having taken his own life after his defeat," Hee Lingchuan recalled. "What you don’t know is that when I first entered the Secret Realm, Panlong City was a place of peace and prosperity, far more magnificent than Black Water City. That was around the time Zhong Shengguang had just arrived to take up his post. I guess those were the fondest times in his memory, so the Illusion Realm was a perfect recreation of Panlong City in an age of peace."

The world is a bitter place, so we can only use fleeting, illusory beauty to cope. This is true for both the living and the Wandering Souls.

"Later, Nian Songyu climbed the city gate, set up crossbows, fired cannons, and began burning the city. Most importantly, he blew up the Zhong Residence, which tore the illusory dream to shreds. That’s what startled the Black Flood Dragon." Hee Lingchuan shrugged. "Can’t be helped. No one likes being woken up."

"The Grand Square Pot was in Panlong City for over twenty years, so Zhong Shengguang would have established a close connection with it long ago. For his soul to be absorbed by the Grand Square Pot and for him to become its Artifact Spirit after death... that makes sense." Hee Chunhua was applying ointment to his eldest son’s cheek. The flesh around the wound was peeled back, and this special ointment would hasten its healing.

"If we can’t take the Grand Square Pot with us, I’m afraid Red Cliff Road will continue to suffer from the Sandstorm Season." He pondered for a moment before asking, "By the way, I heard the Celestial God attached itself to you first. Why did it leave you later?"

"I have no idea," Hee Lingchuan said, looking baffled. "The white light grabbed my face, and my mind went completely blank. By the time I regained consciousness, it had already gone after Nian Songyu."

"How long did that take?" Hee Chunhua turned and asked the other eyewitnesses.

"Only about three to five breaths," Situ Han recalled.

"Any headaches or dizziness?"

"Yes, yes! Dad, how did you know?" Hee Lingchuan asked in astonishment. "My temples have been throbbing nonstop. They still hurt like hell."

Hee Chunhua thought for a moment. "We’ll have the Great Shaman take another look at you when we get back. We need to see if your Divine Soul was damaged."

"Oh." ’What does he mean, "another" look?’ Hee Lingchuan grew wary. ’When did the Great Shaman ever examine me before?’

The topic quickly returned to the Grand Square Pot.

"This Divine Artifact... has it truly become one with Panlong City?"

"Perhaps it’s true," Hee Lingchuan mused. "Otherwise, with the Grand Square Pot using the Three Corpses Insect to make his enemies turn coat and the Great Wind Army being invincible, why didn’t Zhong Shengguang seize the opportunity to fight his way back to his homeland? It must mean there are limits to how the artifact can be used."

"Things belonging to the Celestial Gods are never so easy to use," Hee Chunhua said with a nod. "What a shame. We won’t be able to use it to quell the rebellion. By the way, the Black Dragon said at the end that its mission was complete. What do you all think that..."

Seeing the four of them staring at him intently, Hee Chunhua gave a wry smile and trailed off.

’What could I possibly get from asking these four simpletons? I’d be better off going back and discussing it with Hee Yue.’

Hee Chunhua was deeply frustrated that he couldn’t obtain the artifact. It was the first time Hee Lingchuan had ever seen his father so fixated on an object, sighing deeply and wringing his hands in regret.

An impulse rose in his heart—a desire to obtain it for his father, no matter the cost.

’Of course, that was the subjective emotion of this body’s original owner, not his own.’

Fortunately, Hee Chunhua also understood that the expedition had to end. They had exhausted all of their resources just opening the passage into the Pool Well. The chances of finding another way to acquire the Grand Square Pot were practically zero.

Besides, the Heroic Spirits of the Great Wind Army were patrolling the entire city. It looked like they were protecting the place, but in reality, they were watching it.

If the living tried to start any large-scale construction in Panlong Wasteland City, these Heroic Spirits might not approve.

They could only return obediently. They didn’t have the luxury of acting on their whims.

Just then, the food in the pot was ready.

The fried rice cakes, when boiled with water, turned into a rice porridge. It had a slightly grainy texture, not as silky smooth as properly made congee, but its advantage was that it was filling, especially when eaten with flatbread and cured meat.

Everyone began to slurp it down. SLURP. Sitting there in the desolate city, listening to the rain patter on the eaves and watching the Heroic Spirits of the Great Wind Army drift by, felt utterly surreal.

Hee Lingchuan even took out some good wine to share with everyone.

Once they had eaten and drunk their fill, drowsiness began to set in.

After more than twenty hours of heart-pounding adventure, exhaustion finally hit them. Zeng Feixiong called his personal guards over to stand watch, and the others fell asleep the moment they lay down.

* * *

Hee Yue had gone to bed early, but he tossed and turned for hours, only managing to drift off around the second watch of the night.

The past few days had been the most difficult time for the Hee Family. By day, he had to deal with the heavy burden of county affairs; by night, he had to go home and comfort his grieving mother. Each was an arduous task in its own right.

When he finally got back into bed, sleep had completely abandoned him. His mind raced with how he was going to support his mother and secure their future. His father’s death had been a devastating blow to the family.

After just a few days of this, the once-spirited young man was at his breaking point.

But at rooster’s crow that morning, a commotion seemed to erupt outside. It was followed by a frantic POUND POUND POUND on Hee Yue’s door. "Second Young Master, get up, quickly! The master and the Eldest Young Master are back!"

The normally composed old steward’s voice was cracking with excitement.

Hee Yue scrambled out of bed and stood stunned for a few seconds. Then he snatched the long robe from his bedside and bolted out the door.

The front courtyard was bustling, every face alight with a joyful smile, as if they’d all struck gold.

The pall of gloom that had hung over the Hee Residence for the past two days vanished in an instant.

In the center of the crowd stood none other than the father-son duo, Hee Chunhua and Hee Lingchuan, looking dusty and a bit haggard.

The normally composed Second Young Master of the Hee Family forgot all about his dignity, crying out as he threw his arms around his father and older brother.

Hee Chunhua patted his head. "There, there. It’s been hard on you these past few days."

Hee Lingchuan chuckled. "You’re not properly welcoming us home unless you wag your tail."

Hee Yue rubbed his eyes, overjoyed yet finding it hard to believe. "The Sandstorm Season isn’t over. How did you get back? Don’t tell me you didn’t have to cross the desert?"

"It’s a long story!" Hee Lingchuan rubbed his own face. "Let’s save it until after you’ve given us a proper welcome and we’ve washed up. I feel like I could scrub two pounds of dirt off me."

"I have urgent news to report!" Hee Yue knew his priorities. He grabbed his father’s arm and enunciated every word clearly, "Intelligence from the east has finally arrived. The Rebel Army at Woling Pass has been defeated, but Grand Commandant Dong Haoming has raised his own army in rebellion!"

This bombshell left the Hee father and son utterly dumbstruck.

Hee Chunhua suddenly threw his head back and roared with laughter, as if this news had swept away all his troubles. "Good! Excellent! Just excellent!"

Just then, Madam Ying arrived as well. She looked at her husband, her eyes brimming with tears. "You’re finally back!"

...

Hee Lingchuan didn’t climb out of the bathtub until daybreak. He stretched luxuriously, feeling as if he’d been reborn.

’You’d never find a luxury like this in the desert.’

It took two whole tubs of hot water—and a bath attendant the Hee Family had hastily hired for a premium—to finally scrub off all the layers of grime and dust.

The man felt alive again.

The Sandstorm Season was far from over. The group had only been able to exit the Panlong Desert safely thanks to the escort provided by the Heroic Spirits of the Great Wind Army. Wherever the Heroic Spirits went, the Resentful Souls and Three Corpses Insects automatically scattered. Even the swirling sands of the storm seemed to calm, allowing humans to pass through.