Ji Yang pulled Nan Yan out of the crowd, finding a temporary hiding spot. Once the villagers dispersed, he cast an illusion spell, transforming them into ordinary people.
“I encountered a rift in the formation at sea,” Nan Yan explained, still shaken by the divine sense she had felt. “I heard qin music coming from it, and a powerful consciousness seemed to notice me.” Had that consciousness harbored any malice, her spirit might have been crushed instantly.
“Do you think it could have been Uncle’s divine sense detecting me?” she asked hopefully.
Ji Yang cautioned, “The Demon Sealing Formation has existed for nearly a thousand years. Many cultivators besides Nan Yi have been banished there. Some are as weak as the Golden Core stage, while others are as powerful as the Nascent Soul. We must be wary of those nearing the end of their lifespans who might have gone mad. If it is Nan Yi, that’s fortunate. If not, we must proceed with caution.”
After discussing their options, they decided to gather more information. Returning to the shore, they found most villagers had gone home. Only an old woman remained, sitting blankly by the sea as the tide slowly engulfed her feet.
Nan Yan approached her, asking gently, “Grandmother, the tide is rising. What are you doing here?”
The old woman’s eyes remained fixed on the vast ocean. After a moment, her dry, cracked lips moved: “Jiao’er said she was going fishing this morning. Why hasn’t she returned? The porridge on the stove has gone cold.”
“Grandmother?” Nan Yan prompted.
Suddenly, the old woman turned and hurried away, muttering, “The porridge… I must warm it up. Jiao’er always has cold hands and feet.”
Puzzled, Nan Yan turned to Ji Yang. “Did you hear that? Jiao’er. When we were trapped in the Yellow Spring Mirror’s illusion at the Linglong Capital ruins, Nan Yi called that mermaid ‘Jiao’er.'”
“It’s unlikely to be a coincidence. Let’s observe further,” Ji Yang replied.
As they followed the old woman, they overheard village women gossiping:
“Poor old Gu. Her husband was eaten by a monster, and her daughter drowned at sea when she was sixteen. Now she’s all alone.”
“Pity? If the villagers hadn’t been supporting her all these years, she’d have starved long ago.”
“Last year, a cultivator took her to sea to catch Merfolk. She misled them to the heart of the ocean. Only one of the ten cultivators returned. He was so angry he broke two of her bones.”
“Look at her now, recovered and ready to deceive people again.”
In a short distance, Nan Yan and Ji Yang learned about the old woman’s tragic life spanning three to four decades. She had married a fisherman who was torn apart by low-level sea beasts during a storm, leaving her with a newborn daughter. She raised the child alone, but when the girl turned sixteen, she went fishing to earn money for her dowry and disappeared at sea, leaving no trace.
Some claimed Merfolk had dragged her away and eaten her.
“Merfolk do eat humans,” Ji Yang explained, “but the Northern Sea is teeming with monsters. Human flesh doesn’t offer much spiritual energy compared to the more appealing demonic fish.”
They watched the old woman bustle about her dilapidated house, seemingly deaf to their calls.
“Let’s try the Yellow Spring Mirror,” Nan Yan suggested. “She’s mortal and won’t have a defensive barrier like the Drunken Illness Qin.”
The Drunken Illness Qin, being a celestial treasure, had a spirit that protected its master’s past. They likely wouldn’t be able to fully activate the Yellow Spring Mirror until reaching the Nascent Soul stage.
The mirror’s illusions affected friend and foe alike, but the old woman’s past didn’t involve powerful cultivators, so it should be safe.
Inside, the old woman kept adding firewood to the stove, making the flames crackle and causing the thin porridge in the chipped pot to bubble.
As the firebox neared capacity, she muttered, “There’s still some hemp cloth. I must make Jiao’er’s dowry…”
Unaware, the flames before her suddenly slowed, as if enveloped by a strange force.
Suddenly, light returned to the old woman’s eyes. Her appearance changed, wrinkles fading and gray hair becoming lustrous.
A gentle knock sounded at the door. She wiped her hands and went to answer, finding an elegant Qin player in flowing robes.
He was handsome but his eyes lacked spirit. Cradling a qin, he smiled as the woman emerged: “Excuse me, are you, Madam Gu?”
Unfamiliar with such refined individuals, Madam Gu didn’t realize he was a cultivator and quickly invited him in.
“How can I help you, young master?” she asked.
The Qin player coughed lightly, his face reddening. “My name is Nan Yi. Last night, while composing on the nearby sea cliffs, I heard a maiden singing along with my qin. Her voice was ethereal. When I went to look, she suddenly jumped into the sea. I only managed to find this silver hairpin nearby. The local silversmith said you had it made, so I’ve come to return it.”
His infatuation was obvious. No one would have guessed this lovestruck youth was a powerful cultivator.
Madam Gu, however, didn’t notice. She stared blankly at the hairpin, her hands trembling. Seeing her daughter’s name engraved on it, she nodded repeatedly.
“Yes… yes. My Jiao’er is quite mischievous. She loves playing in the sea. I often scold her. I’m sorry she disturbed you.”
Outside the illusion, Nan Yan observed the scene, realizing that Madam Gu’s daughter was likely already dead. The old woman seemed to suffer from a delusional disorder, believing her daughter was still alive.
Nan Yi bowed. “No need to apologize. Might I ask when Jiao’er will return?”
“She… she’s gone fishing,” Madam Gu replied. “She’ll be married next year and wants to catch fish to trade for her dowry.”
“Oh?” Nan Yi paused briefly, but his excellent manners prevented him from prying. “The Northern Sea is dangerous. It’s risky for Jiao’er to go alone. If you trust me, I could search for her.”
“Oh, yes, please. Thank you, young master. Jiao’er left from Wuyan Crossing in the east of the village. If you find her, please come back for a meal.”
Madam Gu thanked Nan Yi profusely as he nodded and exited the illusion. As the Yellow Spring Mirror’s power faded, she swayed and collapsed into a bamboo chair in the courtyard, falling into a deep sleep with a faint smile on her lips.
The qin player’s illusion dissipated, revealing Ji Yang’s contemplative expression. He walked out of the Gu household, his right hand outstretched. The air around him condensed, forming an ancient mirror that settled in his palm.
“Now I understand why Uncle didn’t recognize her,” Ji Yang mused. “First, the silver merfolk can perfectly conceal their aura. Second, this old woman provided a mortal identity. These coincidences, combined with Uncle’s blindness, likely led him to believe Jiao’er was truly the Gu family’s daughter before the Linglong Capital incident.”
After a moment’s reflection, he continued, “As we suspected, Nan Yi and Jiao’er were safe before he left for Linglong Capital. But she was captured soon after his departure. I wonder if he met someone before leaving the Northern Sea?”
Nan Yan suggested, “Should we check out Wuyan Crossing the old woman mentioned?”
“Tonight’s a full moon. We can use the Yellow Spring Mirror again after midnight,” Ji Yang replied.
“What’s on your mind?” Nan Yan asked, puzzled.
Ji Yang gazed at the sky, his expression serious. “Fair warning: Nan Yi and the mermaid likely shared a romantic moment there. I can continue playing Master Yi Gu, but we’re missing an innocent young mermaid.”
The situation was awkward. Uncle and Aunt Mermaid were genuinely in love, while Nan Yan and Ji Yang were struggling with their current roles – one aggressively pursuing a potentially false memory loss, the other clinging to a Buddhist identity.
Nan Yan regretted sending her brothers away and sighed, “I think Big Brother could play an innocent youth quite well.”