Bound by Blood - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

He heads toward reincarnation for the tenth time; for the first time, I refuse to let go.

The Reincarnation Platform stands at the end of the River of Forgetfulness.

Usually, only the Judges and the King of Hell are permitted to enter that place. Beneath the platform lies the Three Realms Reincarnation Array; once a soul enters it, their past and future are no longer their own. Xie Wujiu rushing there now with the Soul-Annihilating Talisman isn’t to be reborn-it’s to seek death.

As I chased after him, blood was still dripping from my palm.

Along the way, the wind from the River of Forgetfulness was as sharp as a blade, making my eyes sting. I watched Xie Wujiu’s silhouette grow fainter and fainter, like a drift of snow that could scatter at any moment.

I suddenly remembered his back from his previous nine lives.

Sometimes he was in the snow, sometimes on a city wall, sometimes by a sickbed.

Every single time, I watched him leave with my own eyes.

Because I thought leaving was the only way for him to live.

But this time, I finally understood that he never truly wanted to leave.

He was just afraid I wouldn’t be able to hold on.

By the time I reached the foot of the Reincarnation Platform, Xie Wujiu had already ascended the stone steps.

Siming was a step faster than me, landing in front of the platform first. Gold threads from his sleeves transformed into chains, wrapping layer by layer around Xie Wujiu’s ankles. Xie Wujiu dropped to one knee, his soul-light nearly extinguished, yet he stubbornly forced himself to stay upright.

Siming’s voice was as cold as ice. “Since you seek death, I shall grant it to you.”

I raised my soup ladle and charged.

But before I could get close, Siming pressed his hand down. I was pinned to the steps by an invisible force so strong it made my breathing tighten.

“Meng Qi, do you really think a mere Meng Po can shake Heaven’s Mandate?”

I gritted my teeth, the taste of blood filling my throat.

“Whether I can shake it or not, I’ll only know once I try.”

Siming didn’t bother wasting more words on me. He turned, preparing to strike with the final Soul-Destroying Seal.

At that moment, the King of Hell finally arrived.

He stood at the bottom of the platform, his expression gloomier than anyone’s.

I initially thought he was here to help Siming finish the job, but to my surprise, he glanced at Siming and said calmly, “This soul has not yet been reviewed. You have no right to carry out a private execution on the Reincarnation Platform.”

Siming frowned. “King of Hell, you intend to stop me?”

“I only stop things that go against the rules.”

I almost laughed out loud.

Now you’re talking to me about rules?

Regardless, that one sentence managed to stall Siming.

Kneeling on the ground, Xie Wujiu looked up at me. He seemed to want to smile, but instead, he coughed up a mouthful of soul-blood. His voice was very low, yet it still reached my ears.

“Ah Qi.”

“Shut up,” I said, my eyes red. “If you dare take one more step forward, I really won’t care about you anymore.”

He actually let out a faint, curled smile.

“You say that every time, but in the end, you always care.”

My nose stung, and I wanted nothing more than to rush up and punch him twice.

But I couldn’t move.

Siming and the King of Hell were in a standoff, but the restrictions on the Reincarnation Platform were growing brighter. The Soul-Annihilating Talisman had already entered Xie Wujiu’s soul; if this dragged on any longer, he would still dissipate.

I suddenly realized that brute force wouldn’t work.

I had to know how to break this Pact.

The Pact was made seven hundred years ago. The blood seal was mine, and the condition was that I personally send him to forget his past. Now that the contract was about to break, the key to shattering it must also lie with me.

I abruptly looked down at my palm.

The wound previously pierced by the soup ladle was still bleeding. The line of blood followed the creases of my palm downward, faintly reflecting a very shallow red mark. That mark wasn’t a wound; it was an invisible thread stretching from my palm all the way to Xie Wujiu’s chest.

I froze.

A Red Thread.

The Marriage Pact hadn’t been broken.

Seven hundred years ago, we never finished bowing to Heaven and Earth, but that night in the ruined temple, he had cut his palm and sworn a blood oath of one heart with me. Even after we both died, this thread hadn’t vanished; instead, it had buried itself into our souls.

Siming clearly saw it too, and his expression finally darkened completely.

“No wonder,” he whispered. “So it was this thread that kept him from forgetting for nine lifetimes.”

I understood instantly.

Xie Wujiu hadn’t endured nine lifetimes on his own.

It was this lingering, unbroken fate between us that had forcibly pulled a piece of him back from total oblivion every single time.

Siming raised his hand, intending to sever the thread.

Ignoring everything else, I bit down hard on the tip of my tongue and spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground.

When the blood of a Meng Po enters the River of Forgetfulness, all the old souls on the bridge respond.

In the next instant, countless translucent hands suddenly reached out from the River of Forgetfulness, tightly gripping the barrier around the Reincarnation Platform. These were all the souls who had passed through my hands over the years-the elderly, children, soldiers, scholars, those who had cried, and those who had laughed.

They should have long forgotten me.

But today, it was as if they all recognized me.

“Lady Meng Po.”

“She’s the one who gave me that half-piece of cake.”

“She let me see my son one last time in secret.”

“She said I could finish crying before drinking the soup.”

Those fragmented voices suddenly flooded into my ears.

My eyes grew hot in an instant.

In these seven hundred years, I thought I was just someone who served soup.

It turned out that Xie Wujiu wasn’t the only one who was remembered.

Siming roared in anger, “A bunch of lingering remnants dare to stop me?”

I surged to my feet. Taking advantage of the moment these old souls stalled the barrier, I broke free from my restraints and lunged onto the Reincarnation Platform, throwing my arms around Xie Wujiu.

His body was as cold as ice.

“Ah Qi,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“I’ve already resigned, so whose rules am I supposed to follow?” I gritted my teeth, shielding him behind me. “Xie Wujiu, I accepted your letting go for the first nine times. For the tenth time, this old lady doesn’t accept it!”

Siming looked at me coldly, finally tearing away his mask of high-and-mighty indifference.

“Meng Qi, if you insist on this, then do not blame me if the Underworld is destroyed along with him today.”

“Then try me.”

I gripped my soup ladle in one hand and tightened my grip on the invisible Red Thread in my other palm.

Behind me was Xie Wujiu; before me was the Heaven’s Mandate of the Three Realms.

I suddenly felt that these seven hundred years of brewing soup on the bridge were perhaps all for this very moment.

Not to wait for someone to return.

But to wait until I finally dared to say one thing:

This fate, I do not accept it.