Chapter Twelve: Tavern of the Dead

I. The Soul Wine Pact

Around midnight, just before the hour of the rat, the border town of Wusizang in the Western Regions was shrouded in a silence deeper than that of the Sahara. Wind swept fine sand against the city walls, whispering like countless ghosts murmuring beside one's ear. The only lively place was a remnant of a bluestone street, at the end of which stood a dilapidated inn—Moonwatch Pavilion. Half of the inn's name had already been worn away by wind and sand, leaving only the word "Moon."

Shen Qingyuan, Bai Zhou, and Night Butterfly stepped into the courtyard. Several empty tables sat beneath flickering lanterns, and beside one wooden bench stood a solitary iron kettle filled with cloudy wine, as if left especially for them.

The three sat down, facing each other. The dim lights flickered uncertainly while the wind seeped through the wooden window slats, sending a chill down their spines.

Bai Zhou retrieved the black jade flask and gently twisted the stopper. No liquid spilled out, but a faint, strange aroma emerged—part blood, part aged wood—complex and unsettling, causing a subtle tremor in the soul.

"This is soul wine sealed within the Ancient Soul Banner," Bai Zhou said in a low voice. "According to Tianji Tower's secret report, once this wine is consumed, a drop of true blood must serve as a catalyst to open the gate to memory. If the mind is not strong enough, the soul will be consumed by the wine's spirit and become lost in the illusion of the Tavern of the Dead."

Night Butterfly rested her hand on her sword hilt, her gaze deep and steady. "If we do not brave this danger tonight, we may never uncover the ultimate truth behind the fall of the Shadow Sect and the rise of the Bloodshade Tower."

Shen Qingyuan surveyed the broken-down inn with a sigh. "Then let us attempt it tonight. Bai Zhou, you go first with a drop of blood to awaken the soul wine. Night Butterfly and I will guard the formation to prevent any spirits from escaping."

He then pricked his palm and let a drop of blood fall into the wine kettle. The aroma instantly intensified, bursting forth like a tide of blood and madness. Bai Zhou smiled, raised the wine kettle, and called out, "A toast to all—may our souls trade for truth!"

The three lifted their cups and drank the murky wine in one gulp. In that instant, the world changed color, the shadows of the lanterns shattered like broken stars, and the tables and rafters dissolved silently, replaced by a vast sea of clouds.

Shen Qingyuan felt an invisible chain pulling at his spirit, his body light and heavy all at once, as if falling endlessly. Night Butterfly and Bai Zhou were nearby, their forms blurry and untouchable. He stepped forward and plunged into the cloud sea, surrounded by the wails of wandering souls...

II. Entering the Tavern

It seemed to Shen Qingyuan that he was still drifting in the endless cloud sea, a biting cold settling deep into his heart. An unseen force pulled him deeper still. The figures of Night Butterfly and Bai Zhou flickered at the edge of his vision as the three were drawn into a shadowy void.

When Shen Qingyuan opened his eyes again, he found himself inside an old, eerie tavern—Tavern of the Dead.

Though not large, the tavern was lit brightly. The wooden windows were covered in talismans to ward off spirits, and both the furniture and floor were adorned with skeletal bones. The three stood side by side, facing the bar where an old man with a shattered mirror for an eye sat. His pupils were misty gray, and his smile cut deep into the soul. No other voices could be heard. On the wall hung a black-and-white plaque that read: "Do Not Enter the Trial of Souls."

Night Butterfly clutched the hilt of her colored-silk sword. Bai Zhou held his wind chime and laid down a protective formation. The old man behind the counter adjusted his sleeves and announced clearly:

"All who enter must undergo the soul trial to uncover the truth. Drink from the soul cup and let your true blood touch its rim. Only then shall the eight soul trials of my tavern open. If not, your soul shall remain imprisoned here forever."

As he spoke, eight screens unfurled behind him, each depicting a different figure: a wildlands heroine, a scholarly poet, a merchant butcher, a monk or priest, a palace concubine, a swamp creature, a noble bloodline, and a remnant of the Shadow Sect. Each painting concealed a tale of sin. Only by drinking the soul wine and entering the painting could the truth be found—and the next clue obtained.

Shen Qingyuan took a deep breath and raised the cup. Just as he was about to drip blood, he heard the old man whisper mockingly beside his ear:

"The Tavern of the Dead holds eight trials. The living enter life; the dead, death. Should your soul survive all eight, you may uncover the truth of the Shadow Sect's destruction. If not, the soul wine shall devour your essence, leaving not even a wisp behind."

Finishing his words, the old man lifted a black lacquer wine pot and personally refilled their cups. The wine gleamed like blood and emitted a decayed yet seductive fragrance. The three exchanged glances. Shen Qingyuan said firmly:

"If we do not step into this place, the truth will forever remain hidden. Since we're here, we must proceed."

He once again slit his palm and let a drop of blood fall into the wine. Flames flickered in the cup, and a tremendous force drew the three toward the screens.

III. Sinful Soul Illusions

With a sudden shift, the three found themselves inside the world depicted by the screen. Shen Qingyuan stood on a long street. The lanterns were dim, and the people dressed in ancient garb—none of them smiling. Before him rose a two-story tavern called the Drunkard's Tower, reeking of foul alcohol. Several drunkards lay slumped in the alleys.

Shen Qingyuan whispered to himself, "This must be the 'Wildlands Heroine' trial—where the woman committed murder in a drunken rage, staining the tower with blood."

He observed closely and soon saw a female warrior in armor and wielding a sword. Her face was haggard, her blade bloodied, and she wept as she shouted:

"I was a daughter of a good family. My enemies killed my father and forced me to this path... I sought only to drown my grief in wine. Blood is here, but where is the soul?"

Shen Qingyuan silently drew his Soul Severing Blade. Tapping her scabbard with the tip, the blade glowed red. He called out:

"If you seek justice, speak your truth. Swear it in blood, and your soul may be redeemed."

With a flash of the blade, the woman's spirit gathered before him, tears in her eyes. She nodded slightly and tossed a lock of white hair into Shen Qingyuan's palm. At once, her spirit dissolved, and a thread of white mist rose into the air, transforming into a simple talisman.

As he caught the talisman, Shen Qingyuan felt a tremor in his heart:

"The talisman reads: 'Youthful sins, scholar's vow. A blood oath beneath the candle. The broken blade reforged.'"

He pondered silently. This must be a clue pointing to the next trial—"Scholar and Poet."

He turned to rejoin Night Butterfly and Bai Zhou. Night Butterfly had just finished navigating the "Merchant Butcher" trial, and Bai Zhou had unraveled the "Monk and Priest" illusion.

After they reported their findings, the voice of the cracked-mirror old man echoed once again above the tavern:

"The trials are not yet over. Proceed to the next trial: the Hall of the Scholar."

IV. The Blood Pact Returns

The three raised their cups once more. With a thought, they found themselves within an ancient study filled with an air of solemn elegance. In the center of the room, a worn scroll lay unrolled on the table. Its title read: Record of the Ink Pact.

The phantom figure of the Ink Scholar appeared again, his face pale as death. Holding his ink-whip brush, its tip glowing red like molten blood, he spoke in a low, hollow voice:

"In days long past, my senior brother Yu Jinghan and I forged the Soul-Severing Blade together. Later, we were massacred in Yanjing. My family's final letter, soaked in blood, formed this ink pact. Within it lies a soul-hunting technique..."

As his voice faded, drops of ink lifted from the scroll, hovering before falling to the ground. Upon contact, they morphed into a blood-lined formation, binding the soul energy of the three within its core.

Shen Qingyuan activated the Soul-Locking Mantra. His scabbard flew from his side, and with a flick, he pointed the drawn blade at the blood sigil. A sharp crack resounded — snap! — the blood pact shattered. The scattered fragments of the ink pact fluttered through the air.

Reacting swiftly, Bai Zhou waved his wind chime. The broken remnants were drawn into his palm-held Illusory Realm Flask. Within the flask, the fragments pulsed with a red glow and reformed into a line of blood-inked script:

"The Luo Diagram disrupted; the Eight Formations incomplete. The Shadow Sect's grievance remains, injured in secret by forces beyond the skies. Only by striking the pact script can the formation be broken."

Night Butterfly furrowed her brows. "This 'Luo Diagram Disruption' matches what the Heaven's Secret Tower archives mentioned about the Eight Formation Map. It's now clear—the downfall of the Shadow Sect was no act of a single clan or sect, but a scheme crafted jointly by the Tower Beyond the Skies and the Blood Shadow Sect."

The Broken Mirror Elder sighed deeply. "Indeed. Through today's soul trial, you have uncovered the three guilt-bound souls. When your blade's soul aligns with theirs, the next clue shall emerge…"

Before he could finish, a chilling gust swept through the study. The walls trembled, sending ancient scrolls fluttering in all directions. Shadows coalesced, encircling the elder and the trio.

V. The Soul Wine's Betrayal

The study twisted into a phantom prison. The swirling shadows materialized into withered soul specters, each wielding long blades and rushing forward in attack.

Bai Zhou shouted, wind chime ringing once more. Myriad Realms Return to Warmth formed a shield around the trio. Night Butterfly launched her blade technique, Thirteen Petals of Shadowed Bloom, cutting swiftly through the horde. Shen Qingyuan unleashed the "Soul Capture" and "Soul Break" forms of the Soul-Severing Blade. A dozen slashes painted the air red, felling numerous specters.

Suddenly, the Broken Mirror Elder reappeared. With a thunderous palm strike to the floor, the ground split open. From beneath the tavern surged a tide of blood-stained corpses — shriveled, red, and reeking of death. They merged with the shadows, turning the illusion into a sea of blood.

The truth behind the Dead Men's Tavern began to surface.

The tavern master — the Broken Mirror Elder — had once been a traitor of the Shadow Sect. He used soul wine trials to gather the guilty souls of wandering heroes. Through blood pacts, he sought to fuel a netherworld formation, hoping to revive the soul of Yu Qingshuang and restore the Shadow Sect's legacy using the Soul-Severing Blade.

With danger mounting, the trio fought in unison. Shen's blade danced through the blood mist, sword light sweeping across the field. The elder and his corpse army were pushed back. Bai Zhou and Night Butterfly formed the Soul-Resolving Formation, halting the advance of the dead. The remaining pact fragments ignited, evaporating into smoke.

The Broken Mirror Elder panicked, retreating into a hidden chamber behind the tavern counter. But Shen Qingyuan was fast. He pursued, cornering the old man with blade to his throat.

The elder trembled, voice cracking:

"This... was not just my doing. The Tower Beyond the Skies was involved! We were all pawns! If you want the truth... head to the ancient temple of Yunling... the Yu Clan's ancestral land... the key to breaking the formation…"

As he finished, blood gushed from his mouth. His body collapsed and dissolved into a cloud of black smoke, leaving behind only a scrap of the blood pact and a dying whisper that lingered in the air.

VI. The Broken Mirror Mystery

Night Butterfly picked up the remaining fragment of the pact. Leaning close, she studied the ten or so blood-inked lines. The handwriting was rushed, but imbued with sharp intensity:

"Yunling's peak touches the heavens, a lone temple beneath dead trees. The Moonshadow Blade Soul awaits the return of blood. Sect Master Yu Qingshuang once cultivated Heaven's Secrets here with my senior brother. But later, Night Howl Soul cast me out and forced me to conduct soul trials in the tavern. Many failed. I, too, was blind to the greater plan…"

Bai Zhou repeated softly, "The 'senior brother' he mentioned must be Yu Jinghan. And this 'ancient temple in Yunling'—it must be where the next soul map points!"

Shen Qingyuan gently ran his fingers along the Soul-Severing Blade, eyes burning:

"The Yunling Temple—where the bloodline of the Yu Clan converges—will be our next destination. The Dead Men's Tavern has exposed the web of conspiracy among the Shadow Sect, the Tower Beyond the Skies, and the Blood Shadow Sect. Our next step leads straight to Yunling."

Night Butterfly sheathed her sword, voice ringing clear:

"Though we won this fight, we've only glimpsed the outermost layer of this vast scheme. The true mastermind remains hidden. The mystery of the Broken Mirror... we shall unravel it with the Soul-Severing Blade in hand."

Bai Zhou gently shook his wind chime. A soft warmth swept through the night air.

"At dawn, we head west—onto the ancient path to Yunling."

Outside, the cold wind howled. Red sand drifted across the landscape. The third day's vow was now set.

The Soul-Severing Blade gleamed with its signature chill, reflecting the shadows of the three warriors—wandering souls amidst a barren wilderness. On the table, the blood pact fragment and ancient soul-wine banner lay side by side, as if beckoning—

Yunling… I will return!

End of Chapter Twelve