Chapter 324: Changes in Cangling

Jiang Huai and Ao Yao were finishing up their survey of the surrounding environment.

This world was indeed vast. Mountains, rivers, towns, villages, cultivators, and mortals—everything was present.

Those “natives” had their own life trajectories, their own joys and sorrows.

When Jiang Huai walked through an alley, he saw a woman scolding her child.

When he crossed a stone bridge, two old men were playing chess at the bridgehead.

When he walked along a ridge, a few peasant women carried hoes on their shoulders, humming an out-of-tune folk song, heading home under the setting sun.

Everything was so real, so natural.

It was as if this really was a living, breathing world.

At that time, it was already dusk.

The clouds at the horizon had been dyed golden-red, like splashed cinnabar.

Jiang Huai wandered around some more, exchanged a few words with other people in this world. Every one of them lived their life earnestly.

He suddenly felt a bit dazed.

This secret realm was almost like a real small world—difficult to distinguish truth from illusion.

“Tell me,” Jiang Huai asked after making his rounds, speaking softly to Ao Yao, who was hopping beside him, “if someone could stay in the secret realm for their entire life until death.”

“Would that count as living a normal life for that person?”

For people like Cang Ling and Cang Jing, and for all those who were devoured by extraterrestrial demons and turned into crystallized remains—did it count as living a stable life in the secret realm?

He observed that in this secret realm, the Yellow Dragon Clan was clearly much stronger and more prosperous.

And Cang Ling and Cang Jing’s status was even higher.

They lived in the best mansions, wore the finest clothes, received the best offerings.

The Yellow Dragon Clan elders in this world treated them with utmost respect, as if they were already the future lords of the Dragon Clan.

But in the Five Provinces, Cang Ling had only fought to a draw with Chihuang.

Although they were Dragon Clan prodigies, they couldn’t beat Qin Xuange, couldn’t beat him, and probably couldn’t beat Ao Yao wielding her short sword either.

So in that sense, could this be considered Cang Ling’s happiness?

“What?” Ao Yao tilted her head and asked.

Her small face was full of confusion.

Her big green eyes blinked, and she quickened her steps to Jiang Huai’s side, looking him up and down with a strange expression.

“Did you overexert yourself last night? What nonsense are you talking about?”

“Does reality necessarily mean unhappiness?”

Jiang Huai shrugged, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness.

“At least reality sometimes brings pain.”

Ao Yao shook her head adorably and said crisply,

“But everyone is different.”

“Forcing everyone to choose the same falsehood or the same reality is itself a kind of pain, isn’t it? How could that be called happiness?”

She paused, and a rare seriousness appeared on her small face.

“And besides, why are you trying to guess what others are thinking?”

Perhaps feeling that constantly looking up at Jiang Huai was tiring, she pushed off the ground with her little feet wrapped in green embroidered shoes, and her whole body slowly floated up.

Her skirt gently lifted with the movement, revealing slender ankles wrapped in white socks—exceptionally cute.

She floated to eye level with Jiang Huai and asked curiously,

“You’re just an observer. You don’t know what Cang Ling has lost.”

“She might have lost friends, family, and everything she wanted, forced to trade it all for a fake world.”

“If it were you, and Senior Qin Qingyue, Sect Leader Wu Zhaohua, Clan Leader Bai Lu, and your daughter Jianjia all disappeared from your world without your permission.”

“And you were given a beautiful fake world—would you be willing?”

Jiang Huai was stunned.

He stood there, looking at the small face so close to his, at the clear green in her eyes, and suddenly couldn’t speak.

He would not be willing.

No matter how beautiful this fake world was, he could never abandon his wife and daughter to spend his life here.

No matter how difficult reality was, he knew someone was waiting for him to come home, someone was waiting for him to find her in the Immortal Realm.

He had bonds he could not sever.

“Of course I wouldn’t be willing,” Jiang Huai said softly.

He suddenly recalled the words of a famous person from his past life and continued, “After all, the essence of a human being is the sum of all social relations.”

“Lose that essence, and it’s hard to say what a person is anymore.”

Ao Yao frowned slightly, her small face full of bewilderment.

“What are you talking about?” she muttered, her little mouth slightly pursed. “Anyway, don’t waver in your Dao Heart.”

As she spoke, she slowly descended from the air, her embroidered shoes lightly touching the ground without making a sound.

Jiang Huai exchanged a few more words with Ao Yao, observed this world a bit more, and then they headed back together.

On the way back, he naturally rode on Ao Yao’s back again—the little azure dragon had its own driving feel.

Jiang Huai suddenly understood why people in his past life liked collecting cars.

The sun was setting in the west.

Cang Jing stood on a high slope, gazing at the distant sunset.

Her profile was beautiful. Her features were soft yet spirited, with a straight nose bridge and full lips.

Those amber eyes reflected the glow of the sky, like two warm gemstones.

She stood there like a silent statue.

Until footsteps approached.

She didn’t turn around, only slightly furrowed her brows, her amber eyes still fixed on the distance.

“It’s already this late,” she said, her tone flat. “What are you here for?”

Cang Ling came up from behind and stood shoulder to shoulder with her.

The two sisters stood together like mirror images—the same features, the same contours, the same stature.

The only difference was the smile that Cang Ling couldn’t suppress at the corner of her mouth.

“I already had my bridal chamber last night,” Cang Jing said, turning her head slightly, sounding resigned.

“Tonight it’s your turn.”

Cang Ling asked with a grin,

“So, big sister, do you want me to go to the bridal chamber?”

Cang Jing gave a light snort.

She turned her face away, her amber eyes looking toward the distant skyline.

“Whether you want to go or not, is that something I can control? Can I control it?” she muttered.

They shared a set of sensations.

That was their destiny, set from birth.

On ordinary days, it was fine—eat, sleep, cultivate as usual.

But those private moments that should belong only to “oneself”—they could never enjoy them alone.

When Cang Ling pleasured herself at night, Cang Jing in the next room felt everything simultaneously.

She wanted to stop it, but couldn’t; she wanted to pretend she didn’t know, but her body couldn’t lie.

Sometimes Cang Jing wanted it too, but she thought about it and held back, leaving it completely to her younger sister.

After all, it was the same body.

“Hehe.”

Cang Ling stared intently at Cang Jing.

In those amber eyes flowed something indescribable.

Cang Jing didn’t understand.

She just felt that her sister was a bit strange today.

“What are you looking at?” she couldn’t help asking, her brows slightly furrowed. “Aren’t you going back?”

“Just looking at my big sister a little more,” Cang Ling said softly.

Cang Ling fell silent, and Cang Jing didn’t know what to say for a moment.

What was there to look at? They would part today and meet again tomorrow. Had they ever been separated since the day they were born?

Or rather, could they even separate?

The setting sun stretched their shadows long and long, cast on the grass beneath their feet, overlapping, impossible to tell which was whose.

The wind blew, carrying the fragrance of wildflowers.

The sun gradually sank to the west.

The last hint of golden-red disappeared from the horizon, and the sky turned a color between blue and purple—deep and serene.

“What’s wrong with you?” Cang Jing felt an inexplicable unease in her heart, frowning as she asked. “Is something the matter?”

Cang Ling smiled.

That smile was very faint, completely unlike the carefree Cang Ling of usual.

She didn’t answer, just waved her hand.

“I’m going to the bridal chamber now. Tonight it’s my turn to enjoy myself. Big sister, be careful.”

“Bye-bye.”

With that, a yellow light flashed on her body, and she transformed into a slender yellow dragon, soaring into the sky!

Her dragon tail traced a faint yellow arc in the sky, like a hurried brushstroke, vanishing in an instant.

Cang Jing stood on the high slope, looking up at the receding arc, utterly confused.

What was wrong with her sister today?

She thought for a long time but couldn’t figure it out.

She only remembered that Cang Ling said she was going to the bridal chamber, so she didn’t feel right asking further.

Then she turned and walked down the slope alone.

Moonlight spilled down, shortening her shadow.

Jiang Huai returned to the bridal chamber.

He pushed open the door. The room was lit with a lamp.

The candle flame flickered, casting the whole room in a hazy yellow glow.

On the table were two cups of tea, their steam curling up faintly, already cold.

The curtains by the window were half-drawn, revealing a small patch of dark night sky.

He looked around, trying to find the Yellow Dragon sisters.

Nothing.

The room was very quiet.

He didn’t see anyone.

“Strange. Where are the dragons?”

He walked to the table, his fingers touching the cold tea cup.

The heat of the tea had long dissipated; it was impossible to tell how long it had been cold.

Before he could react, suddenly the sky shook and the earth moved, everything overturned.

It was as if the whole world was flipping.

The ground beneath his feet began to tilt, the walls began to warp, the roof tiles seemed to be lifted by an invisible hand, dancing in the air.

The tea cup on the table slid off, shattering into fine powder. The curtain by the window tore, turning into shreds.

The candleholder toppled, and the flame exploded in the air, splitting into countless tiny sparks like a swarm of fireflies!

Jiang Huai couldn’t react in time and fell with a thud.

He lay flat on the ground, his hands gripping the cracks in the floor with all his might.

But the floor itself was tilting, spinning, collapsing.

He felt as if he was being sucked into a huge vortex, torn and dragged by an irresistible force.

Before his eyes was chaos—houses collapsing, mountains crumbling, rivers reversing!

Those fake “natives” turned to ash in their screams, those fake towns collapsed into nothingness, those fake mountains tore apart into deathly silence.

When he opened his eyes again, all around was a desolate wasteland, cracked earth, and a dark purple sky.

The air was thick with the stench of decay, and beside him came a series of wails.

“Jiang Huai, what’s going on?!” Ao Yao wailed behind him.

Jiang Huai had no time to pay attention to Ao Yao, who had fallen to the ground beside him.

He stared sharply at the crystal that encased Cang Ling. It was already completely stained with black, and Cang Ling’s form was no longer visible.

Only a thick, suffocating blackness.

That blackness flowed slowly, like a living thing, crawling on the inner walls of the crystal.

The transparency—the last trace of Cang Ling’s transparency—had vanished.

Jiang Huai’s heart sank heavily.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

How could this be? What had happened while he and Ao Yao were away?