Chapter 52

Wen Shia wandered the endless expanse of the Soul River, his heart heavy with determination. The shimmering currents carried countless fragments of broken souls, each piece glimmering faintly, whispering of lives once lived. He scanned the river with desperate eyes, searching for any sign of Xiang. His persistence was finally rewarded when he spotted a faint piece of her soul—a fragment so delicate, it seemed like a fragile crystal floating amidst the currents.

Relief coursed through him, but as he approached, the fragment began to drift further away, as if eluding his grasp. The closer he moved, the further it went, until it was almost out of sight. Wen Shia froze in confusion, watching helplessly. "How is this possible?" he murmured to himself, his voice trembling. "Why does it move further away the closer I get? Is something wrong?"

As he stood there, lost in thought, a booming voice interrupted him. A towering guard clad in dark, ominous armor stepped forward, blocking his path. His presence was oppressive, his eyes piercing as he spoke.

"You cannot go further," the guard said firmly. "This place is not meant for you. Only those whose destiny is written to enter may proceed. To go beyond this point, one must have permission—or their soul must pay the ultimate price."

Wen Shia's heart sank. The thought of being unable to reach Xiang was unbearable. Despair clawed at his chest, but he clenched his fists, refusing to give in. If this path is blocked, then I'll find another way, he thought. His love for Xiang burned brighter than any obstacle in his way.

Turning away from the guarded path, Wen Shia ventured deeper into the chaotic regions of the Soul River. Here, incomplete souls roamed endlessly, their faces hollow and expressions vacant. Each soul was trapped in a bizarre, unending loop, repeating the same tasks over and over.

Wen Shia paused to observe. An old man ceaselessly chopped wood, only for the pieces to reassemble themselves moments later. A woman fell into the river, climbed out, and then fell again, her face etched with sorrow yet unable to escape the cycle. Children chased after balls that rolled away, retrieved them, and started over. Each action was an echo of a life left incomplete, a haunting reminder of unfinished business.

The scene was both tragic and surreal. Wen Shia couldn't help but wonder, Is this what happens to souls that never find peace? Are they doomed to relive fragments of their lives forever?

He decided to try and mimic them, hoping it might reveal something about the strange nature of this place. Picking up a small object, he began repeating an action, just as the souls around him did. At first, it seemed meaningless, but suddenly, he collided with an old man.

The man's face was aged and weathered, but his sharp, piercing eyes spoke of wisdom and experience. Wen Shia bowed his head slightly and asked softly, "Can you help me?"

The old man regarded him for a long moment before responding in a gruff, almost commanding tone. "Help you? What is it you seek, boy?"

"I'm searching for someone," Wen Shia explained, his voice steady but pleading. "Someone I care deeply for. She's here, somewhere in this place, but I can't seem to reach her."

The old man frowned, then sighed heavily. "If you wish to go to the place you seek, there is a price to pay. Your soul must first be completely destroyed—shattered into pieces like the others here. Only then will you be allowed to enter. But let me warn you: once you go there, there is no return. You will never be free. Your soul will remain trapped forever, unable to be reborn, unable to escape."

The weight of the man's words crushed Wen Shia's spirit. "Does this mean… I can never save her?" he whispered, his voice trembling. The thought of Xiang's soul remaining scattered, incomplete, and trapped for eternity was unbearable. But even in the face of despair, his resolve hardened. "No," he said firmly. "I will save her. No matter what it takes."

Determined to find another way, Wen Shia continued exploring the chaotic region. His eyes fell upon the guards stationed near a heavily guarded entrance. They carried wooden badges, small but significant, that seemed to grant them access to the forbidden area. Observing them closely, Wen Shia devised a plan.

Quietly, he followed one of the guards, waiting for the right moment. When the guard strayed too far from his comrades, Wen Shia struck swiftly, knocking him unconscious. He quickly changed into the guard's uniform, took the wooden badge, and approached the gate.

As he stepped forward, another guard called out, "Wait! It's not your shift yet!"

Wen Shia froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He avoided eye contact, hoping the guard wouldn't press further. After a tense moment, the guard turned away, and Wen Shia seized the opportunity to slip inside.

The forbidden area was suffocating. The air was heavy, thick with despair. Souls floated aimlessly, their forms shattered and incomplete, their faces devoid of emotion. Wen Shia moved cautiously, his eyes darting around, searching for any sign of Xiang.

Finally, amidst the chaos, he saw her—a small fragment of Xiang's soul. It was faint, delicate, and fragile, but unmistakably hers. The fragment took the form of a six- or seven-year-old Xiang, quietly washing dishes. Her small hands moved with precision, her face serene as she repeated the task over and over. A faint smile graced her lips, a bittersweet echo of the innocence she once had.

Wen Shia's breath caught in his throat. "Xiang…" he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of relief and sorrow. He stepped closer, his heart aching as he watched the young fragment of her soul. "I've found you," he said softly.

But deep down, Wen Shia knew this was only the beginning. To save her, he would have to gather every fragment of her soul, piece by piece, no matter the cost. His journey was far from over, but for the first time, hope flickered in the depths of the Soul River.