I sat in silent contemplation, clutching the sachet Rachel Lan made for me. Inside was a talisman once used by Zachary Justice, with a line of his handwriting.
Restore the source, follow virtue. Seek nothing in life, but walk the path of righteousness. — Zachary Justice
It was only a short line, but after learning some of Zachary Justice’s story, my heart was filled with emotion, even a faint ache.
Elder Peach’s face was serene before me. He leaned his head back, resting comfortably against a stone, as if lost in reminiscence, a faint smile on his lips.
“In the end, I was still afraid of death. I chose to cooperate with the Immortality Society. I provided them with certain things, and they helped me find someone whose life I could borrow. That’s how I survived.”
I swallowed, eyes wide, as Elder Peach slowly turned his head toward me.
"Humans are truly strange creatures. The longer you live, the less you want to die. Over the years, I’ve sent off five generations of disciples—trained them, then watched them leave the world of the living. Maybe my way was truly wrong. I should have died centuries ago, but my life has dragged on until now. Even now, I still don’t want to die."
I couldn’t judge Elder Peach for what he said. I’m not him, nor have I struggled with the torment of life and death. All I know is that being able to see the world with my own eyes is something everyone wishes for.
The world before us is vast and endless. Maybe Elder Peach’s desire to live comes from his deep attachment to this world, so he kept relying on others’ lives to sustain himself. In essence, his actions are no different from the Immortality Society.
“I always wanted to do what I couldn’t. Now, at the end of my life, I feel I must finish it. Ethan Zhang, I know very well—I’ve long been beyond redemption. Ever since I watched Miss Yining die and did nothing, people like me are everywhere in this era. So, when Master Zachary Justice died, I knew the only one who could save me was gone. Heh.”
I still said nothing, my heart tangled with conflicting emotions. Zachary Justice never expected anything in return from Elder Peach, but he had hoped Peach would choose a better path and redeem himself. Sadly, Peach failed, even stepping into the very thing Zachary Justice despised most.
Right now, my feelings might be the same as Zachary Justice’s. Both he and I detest this kind of behavior—using others’ lives to achieve everything for oneself.
“Your actions are just like the Immortality Society’s, Elder Peach. Even though…”
“Knowing that is enough, Ethan Zhang. The reason I’m telling you all this is because in many ways, you remind me of Master Zachary Justice. Now I understand why John Chou has such high hopes for you—he once felt the same about Zachary Justice.”
I gazed at Elder Peach, moved. He smiled as he spoke.
“After Master Zachary Justice died, I met John Chou several times and even drank with him. I didn’t know why I could sit and drink with this vengeful ghost, but later I realized it was because of Zachary Justice. His death for the sake of the Taoist world and the balance between yin and yang left John Chou unable to let go. After all, Zachary Justice was the only one who could make John Chou, that vengeful ghost, weep.”
My eyes widened, and Elder Peach quickly explained.
“Not tears, of course—vengeful ghosts don’t cry, at least not in my experience. But when I drank with John Chou, I truly felt the sorrow in his heart, all because of Zachary Justice. Only by doing this could we find the Immortality Society’s location. The reason the Immortality Society still can’t emerge from the shadows is thanks to Zachary Justice. If he hadn’t died, the Immortality Society would be unstoppable by now.”
I nodded. Whenever Elder Peach spoke of Zachary Justice, there was always a hint of reverence. Evergreen Sage and Elder Arthur Young felt the same.
Maybe Zachary Justice is both a scar and a mirror for the Taoist order—impossible to erase, yet fleeting. That’s why no one in the Taoist world ever mentions him.
I tilted my head back and took a deep breath, then looked at Elder Peach and spoke.
“Elder Peach, I know the person inside means everything to you. You want to bring her back, but what about her last wish? Did Princess Irene really want you to do this? Maybe you acted as you did because of the circumstances…”
I didn’t continue. Elder Peach hung his head, shaking it over and over.
“I didn’t have the courage. At the time, I couldn’t act—fear and dread of death held me back. I couldn’t do what your wife Rachel Lan did, give everything. Maybe that’s the hardest choice a person can make.”
I hummed in response. Elder Peach’s state of mind was already close to death; he wanted to reclaim everything he’d failed to grasp as a human in the past.
“Is there anything I can do to help, Elder Peach? If possible, I hope you make it through, because…”
“You really are similar.”
At that moment, Elder Peach stood up and started to laugh.
“If Master Zachary Justice were here, he’d stop me, and he’d want to help me too. But he’s gone—gone from everywhere. Thank you, Ethan Zhang. I spent my whole life running away from myself, but now I don’t want to run anymore. It’s too late. Take this. When you get back, if you meet anyone from the Mount Mason Order, just hand it to them.”
I stared in surprise as Elder Peach took out a Seven-Star Coin Sword from his embroidered pouch. It looked like an ordinary Seven-Star Sword, except the coins strung together to form the blade were engraved not with currency, but with densely packed Taoist script.
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I took it in my hands. Strangely, the Coin Sword didn’t harm me. Elder Peach said nothing, and I quickly placed the item into my ghost domain.
“Alright, go back, Ethan Zhang. Don’t you still have something important to do?”
I hummed in response and slowly floated upward. Elder Peach waved to me with a smile, but my heart was heavy with sorrow. I couldn’t change someone else’s mind. Maybe Elder Peach’s reason for living wasn’t just fear of death. I wanted to ask why, but when I saw the altar at the center of the formation, I decided not to.
I drifted slowly, looking back at Elder Peach sitting on the ground. I realized why he spoke to me so much—not just Elder Peach, but Zachary Justice, John Chou, and the others had all faced choices between life and death. I had, too.
Back then, I acted without hesitation. Maybe even now, I’d do the same. Maybe Elder Peach wanted to remind me—people aren’t omnipotent, and neither are ghosts.
I drifted farther and farther away, toward the edge of this darkness. I moved slowly, feeling as if something important was about to happen. I was facing a major decision.
I’d have to choose one side and abandon the other. I’ve never faced such a choice before.
Suddenly, I stopped. Someone was standing before me—Tan Tian.
“Aren’t you still trapped in illusion?”
I stared, making sure it was really Tan Tian. His gaze was icy as he fixed his eyes on me.
“To be honest, Ethan Zhang, I hope you avoid this war. Stay out of it.”
“What do you mean?”
I asked, and Tan Tian was silent for a while before slowly drifting closer to me.
“It’s too dangerous. After coming back from illusion, I learned some things. But for you, it’s all too distant. So I hope you stay out of this war.”
“Mr. Tan Tian, I have a question. As a zombie, what is your limit?”
I don’t know why, but the question suddenly popped into my mind, so I asked.
Tan Tian turned away and floated up in silence.
“My limit as a zombie? I’m not sure myself. That’s all I have to say. Avoid the war. If you really can’t, then stay in this darkness with Rachel Lan, and live here forever.”
Tan Tian vanished. No matter how I called, he didn’t reappear. I shot upward, my mind a tangled mess, feeling terrible.
I returned to the ring-shaped city. It was nighttime, and the barbecue shop was as busy as ever. Rachel Lan and the others were working hard, and I smiled, ready to walk in.
Suddenly, as Rachel Lan flipped food at the grill, she turned pitch black—just a black silhouette of a person. Shocked, I landed in front of her.
“What’s wrong, Qingyuan? You look pale.”
All I could see of Rachel Lan was a black silhouette and a white mouth—nothing else, as if she’d vanished. Suddenly, a hand pressed my cheek and pinched it.
“Qingyuan, don’t just stand there—help out.”
Rachel Lan returned to normal. I rubbed my eyes, wondering what I’d just seen.
All night, until closing time, I was distracted, staring at Rachel Lan.
“Qingyuan, be honest with me—what’s going on?”
“N-no, nothing…”
I stopped and looked into Rachel Lan’s eyes. Facing those eyes, I couldn’t lie—I told her the truth.
“Rachel, I felt like you disappeared. I don’t know why, but when I came back and saw you, that’s just how I felt.”