Bing Wen leapt onto a sky-high lonely beam. Looking down at the cultivators, the warrior god observed the mortals taking control of the dire situation. Some quickly drew out numerous scrolls from their broad sleeves. While others slapped many onto the faces of walking corpses, many more cultivators made sure to wrap long glowing strips of talismans around the mouths that tried to bite into the plants’ firm hold.

With his green outer robe billowing in the wind, the warrior god scrunched his brows together. The shouting resumed, and yet, people still hesitated to draw their weapons out.

“What’s with that look?” The younger one’s lazy tone nearly startled Bing Wen as Jian Yu casually leaned against the man’s broad shoulder. “The big brother seems rather pale. Isn’t it too late to feel guilty?”

Shrugging off the person, Bing Wen scoffed. He was unable to sense the other’s presence at all, and though it was surprising, the god tried to not let it show. “Justice was served on that day—”

A firm, deathly grip grabbed hold of the man’s shoulder. The wide crimson sleeve trembled. Jian Yu glowered. “Justice? Don’t give me that shit.”

Bing Wen lowered his voice, “Do you really want to settle it…right here?”

“No, but you…of all people…owe her your everything.”

Before Bing Wen lifted the hilt of his sword from its immaculate gold-and-green sheathe, Jian Yu already jumped down from the pillar and landed by the huntress’ side. The young man’s red eyes reverted to dark earthly brown, softening like gentle, harmless embers of hearth and wood. Xiao Li soon joined him, bounded to the person as a puppy would to its master. At this sight, Bing Wen tightened his jaw.

“Did anyone get eaten yet?” asked Mei Ying to a crowd of people. The strip of flickering electricity went on and off, hugging around her small self. It sparked and sizzled.

There was a rotten scent in the air, mixed with blood, but with the air currents flowing through the area, it was a bit difficult to pinpoint the directions of its sources.

The cultivators shook their heads, with one saying, “M-Many got bitten, cut, stabbed, or bones broken—but no one got their spiritual cores consumed yet.”

“Well, my flora arts can only hold them down for the moment…” The maiden explained, “…so keep repressing their movements with the scrolls, chants, anything.” Her gold light waned away with the last blinking traces of lightning.

“Young Miss!” A wailing mother pushed through the crowd of cultivators, wiping her golden sleeve upon one crying eye. “I-Is there a way to call back their souls into these disciples?!”

An icy wind blew through the huntress’ outer robe as she drew out her pure, unsoiled sword from its pristine white sheathe. She glanced down at her shining reflection.

“Yes.” answered Mei Ying. Someone had turned the bodies into walking corpses...through yin magic.

Soul-calling for the 'dead' is not the same as bringing the dead back to life. First off, every mortal has three souls. When one of the three souls are forcibly removed, the body can be cold and still but not deceased, thanks to the other two still remaining. Next, the shaman must be in their peak form with both spiritual energy and magic for it involves negotiation between the shaman and whoever has the reins to the main soul that has been mistakenly taken away.

Lastly, bringing the dead back to life involves all three souls that had been already sent off: one to reincarnate, one to join the ancestors, and one being with the corpse until there is no body left. There is no trade of any sort. Ah, resurrecting the dead has also never been done and is impossible. The three souls has traveled too far away from the living and the shaman's path of spiritual travel.

When people mistakenly 'bring the dead to life', it is actually just re-animating the rotting corpse without its complete soul.

After all, according to righteous teachings, all Three Realms should keep to themselves unless one interferes with the other.

All heads turned to Mei Ying, despite the raving madness of undead that scratched and pulled at the constricting vines and crimson chrysanthemums.

“Isn’t it too late?” asked another person, raising their brow. “People tend to start rotting immediately after the moment of their death.”

“No, the Song clan’s ancient shamanic art, the Spirit Deprivation Voyage spell that is passed down from the late head shaman will suffice in the soul-calling.” At Mei Ying’s response, Jian Yu held her arm. He shook his head. The other stared hard at him, and, reluctantly, the young man released her. “On top of that, the Healing Circle of Divinity will restore their bodies to the way it was before as though they were still alive.”

Murmurs brewed among the people. Yes, but the Shaman Hua of the Song clan died so suddenly without an heir… These two spells had been kept within the reclusive clan for centuries! Only the head shaman can practice these rituals, but now…

Cultivators from various sects turned to one another, shamelessly uttering, “Someone, burn a blue scroll and pass the message for help from the Song cultivators—"

“Oh, isn’t that the Child of Red Omen?!” The elongated, indolent announcement caused everyone’s eyes to widen. Their backs stiffened. “No need to further embarrass yourself!”

Heads turned, trying to recall…the prophecy that everyone had laughed at from twenty years ago. Warm sweat dribbled down their necks and the side of their pale faces.

The huntress became still, lowering the bright sword and pointed its sharp tip to the ground. Instantly, her eyes locked with those from the smiling figure who slowly made his way over.

“The prophecy states: When the heavens rain swords…and the springs flood with fire." As if to taunt the people, the enigmatic speaker gradually strolled closer and closer toward Mei Ying. His vivid red hair was enough to make him stand out from the masses. "The earth shall bleed to ash. Lest the child of Red Omen…ascends time of great dire—keep a promise and cut the clash.”

Stepping out of the crowd, as people shuffled aside to make way, was a tall, young man draped in all-white, lined by a thin strip of gold. He wore a familiar matching crown of white pearls, gold stars, and tassels as well, with long, flowing red locks like silk. In his hands were red strings in a game of cat’s cradle.

"No raining swords or springs of fire...yet." The beautiful person smiled sweetly, tilting their head to the side. “Although…since the main cultivation world has laughed at Her and the people for so long, this one is not sure if She is willing to help.”

“Oh...it’s you.” Jian Yu sighed, rolling his eyes. “You finally got rid of that disgusting form of yours.”

The newly arrived stranger stopped shortly before the three cultivators, with his right eye twitching slightly.

“Renting a room with an unmarried young woman.” Xiao Li arched a brow. “I had no idea that there were such sick people in this world, Young Master.”

“Of course, Xiao Li. How could I leave her with such a deceitful and perverted old man?”

“Young Master, he’s like…how old? What a dirty, old man indeed with weird hob—”

“OKAY! I GET IT!” Gritting his teeth, the red-haired cultivator stomped one foot against the white stone path. “F*CK YOU, JIAN YU—AND F*CK YOU, XIAO LI!”

Mei Ying blinked. “And you are…?”

Before the young woman could recall, tinkles of bells echoed throughout the vicinity, accompanied by beaming golden light. “Did…the big sister forget about me in just two hours?”

Right away, there was a soft finger tap on Mei Ying’s forehead.

There and now—red strings looped out of the stranger’s fingers and became streams of red ribbons as the outer robe transmuted from green into snow-white, the young woman’s gold eyes changing into limpid autumn water tones, her forehead devoid of little tufts of bangs, and at last—the crimson floral mark returning to its place, above and in between the brows. The silver necklace jingled faintly with its moon-silver tassels, bearing the intricate butterfly, floral, and firefly designs. There, wrapped around her half-hair bun was a matching silver crown, engraved with dragons and Heavenly swirls. As quickly as they came, the red ribbons vanished.

The hundreds of cultivators’ eyes grew large.

Initially, there was silence except for the low groans of walking corpses struggling against the talismans taped around them, stuck on their faces, and the weaving greeneries and crimson flowers that constricted their movements.

Mei Ying swallowed, feeling for her long white veil but saw that it did not come with the transformation. Noting hard eyes on her from above, the young woman glanced up and met Bing Wen’s stone-like gaze. His posture was completely stiff and without an ounce of elegance. He closed his mouth, averting his attention as though he was thinking…

“Bing Wen!” Mei Ying smiled and waved at the warrior god, who did not look at her from the high white-and-gold beam. “What are you doing so far away?”

Seeing that she was being ignored, the huntress turned to Jian Yu. “Am I really that ugly? Why is everyone, but you and Xiao Li, refusing to make eye contact with me?”

“You…” Both Jian Yu and Xiao Li spoke at the same time, then, turned to one another with strange expressions.

“WE BEG YOU!”

Quite abruptly, waves of people dropped to their knees and began to kowtow, banging their foreheads against the stone platform. Again and again, they pounded their heads before lifting their bleeding faces.

“WE BEG YOU, SONG MEI YING! PLEASE HELP US!”

En Lai coolly answered, ‘Mei Ying knows that she is different from all the other children. Why does the Song clan insist on pretending that she is the same as the others?’ There was a brief pause. ‘The Child of Red Omen is a disciple of a Heaven Immortal. Whether the Mortal realm chooses to believe in the prophecy or not, it is on them.’

Raising their chin, the celestial almost laughed bitterly. ‘One day, they will know who to beg.’

“…BEG YOU! PLEASE!” The cultivators continued to cry out. “PLEASE! WE ARE SORRY! WE ARE SORRY THAT WE HAVE WRONGED THE SONG CLAN!”

If Kong were here, he’d probably die of happiness, ah… Mei Ying nearly backed away; however, both Jian Yu and the beautiful stranger seized hold of each arm. The white-robed cultivator glanced at both young men. “I cannot be the only one who can do this...”

“Wei Sheng, God of Fate, what do you see?” Jian Yu asked.

With eyes as wide as humanly possible, the huntress gaped. “Wei…Sheng?”

Ah, Bing Wen did slip up once—and said that little, cute Wei Sheng was a man. Is that why Jian Yu and Xiao Li stayed in the room next to hers and Wei Sheng’s?

No. Wei Sheng is not Wei Sheng. His proper title is Si Ming, the God of Fate.

“Song Mei Ying, I see the Mortal realm reuniting under the single hope that you, Child of Red Omen and only heir of the Shaman Hua’s magical spells, can save their shifus and disciples from that entity.”

The young woman hesitated.

“Big sister, a journey of a thousand miles beings with a single step.” The beautiful young man smiled. “The winds of the heavens shift suddenly; so does human fate...for fate leads those who are willing but must push those who are not."

No sooner did Wei Sheng say this to the maiden, both men let go of her and stepped aside to draw out their swords. Xiao Li, the youngest of them, emanated the glaive from air. Bing Wen gracefully breezed his way over and stood by the God of Fate, mumbling, and manifested his dragon-engraved spear.

“Right.” Then, Mei Ying remembered that people were still kowtowing. “A-Ah, everyone, stop! Stop kowtowing!”

Jian Yu frowned, already burning in his blood-red aura. “He’s here.”

Upon hearing this, Mei Ying—Bing Wen—Wei Sheng—and Xiao Li—all illuminated in their cloud of gleaming light.

“SO, YOU HAVE ALL GATHERED HERE!” Momentarily, hidden from sight until now, the man in all-white, with the wide-brimmed bamboo hat and white veil—emerged, with hands filled with soot-black energy. He rose from the ground up to the high ampitheater seats, flying higher and higher with his white robe whipping into the wind. “SI MING, GUAN YU! YOU TWO DARED TO PURSUE ME?!”

Swiftly, both Wei Sheng and Bing Wen sprung into action, dashing forth like a blink of light toward the white figure.

“WHAT IS THE GOD OF FATE…” The veiled villain’s face twisted from irritation to pure outrage. “…AND THE GOD OF WAR DOING?!”

Within a few steps, Bing Wen reverted to his former appearance, with the high, tight bun, and additional armor pieces around his legs and chest. The warrior god threw his spear, in which a stupendous golden dragon appeared and spun around its blade as the weapon grew astronomically many times of its original size!

As the serpent roared loudly, Jian Yu turned his head to Mei Ying, “Don’t—”

At once, the huntress brought the gleaming sword up to face her shining reflection.

“Magical Formation One.” Her voice was light as a pleasant autumn breeze. “Blood sacrificial art.” With a slice of her moon-porcelain arm, the razor edge of Fa Guang dripped of red liquid. “Healing Circle of...Floral Divinity.”

Her friend retracted his hand. She infused the original spell with her divine floral arts?

The song began slowly. Its calming but sybilline lyrics fluttered from Mei Ying's red lips, flowing like a calm lullaby that can alleviate all the realm's sickness, worries, and suffering. Instead of blood oozing down to her tiny wrist, crimson droplets rotated around her space for a moment before dissipating into red misty flowers, floating away to cover the entire amphitheater.

Instantly, a great shining red magical seal fell over the wide-ranging vicinity, taking the shape of a brilliant chrysanthemum with the Yin and Yang symbols, scattered stars, and extravagant scriptures.

This song... Jian Yu listened to the ancient words of the Song shamans. To think that they still sing it to this very day... Obviously, no one speaks the language anymore nor can anyone dicepher the meaning of these lyrics. Nonetheless, it was surprising that the Song clan retained the song to its original source, mastering the flucturating tones and pronunciation of every foreign syllable.

Healing promptly began as the rotting and soft flesh of the walking corpses closed the wounds. Black, inky blood turned red and back into skin. Even the cultivators, who were still living, noticed how the bites, scratches, and bruises around their limbs and necks had mysteriously vanished. Bones even healed. A gentle warmth showered the people as they stood up, gasping and poking at their previously injured areas.

“Xiao Li, guard Mei Ying.” ordered the red-robed cultivator, briskly walking further away.

“Where are you going?!” The servant almost followed but stopped in his tracks. Soon, he stood in front of the young woman, dressed in a cloud-white outer robe, chanting with her eyes closed as the red line of her arm radiated. Burning red-and-gold scriptures arose and hovered over her head. “Young Master, I—”

“With so much yin miasma here, it is only a matter of time.” Surrounded by tiny irradiant orbs of qi, the handsome person halted. He grinned. There was a quick pull of his flowing red ribbon, and his long, black hair came loose. A shadow casted over one eye. “Need to show Them their place.”

Jian Yu dropped the ribbon into his new storage ring for temporary keeping.

Several cultivators rushed past Jian Yu, unaware of what he was about to do. They unsheathed their glistening weapons, ready to protect the unmoving corpses of their loved ones from the ominous rush of dark presences. Their spiritual detection were sharp.

One of the passing people, a young women, nearly stumbled, eying the glowing red 'fireflies' in wonder--before rushing off.

“Watch over Mei Ying. She is about perform the next spell.” Jian Yu went on, with his back facing the servant. A bright red orb of light landed on the cultivator's shoulder. “Meanwhile, those two will buy her time as they wear Him down. I will be back.”

“Young Master..." The black-cladded servant hesitated. "...what is the Spirit Deprivation Voyage spell?”