浮華夢醒的百鬼夜行 The Phantom Parade After the Vanity Dream Awakens

羅曉君，生於簪纓世家，鐘鳴鼎食之門。她仿若上天最精心的傑作，容貌清麗脫俗，氣質端雅嫻靜，更難得的是那一點即通的聰明靈慧。自小便在無數欣羨與讚嘆的目光中成長，錦衣玉食是日常，出入皆有僕從簇擁，所到之處無不備受尊崇。更令人嘖嘖稱奇的是，無論琴棋書畫、詩詞歌賦，乃至於尋常女子甚少涉獵的經世致用之學，如天下大勢、歷史地理、格物致知、佛道哲思，她皆能信手拈來且見解不凡，常令飽學宿儒自歎不如。只要她想要的，無論在旁人眼光中是多麼大的鴻溝，她只需要輕輕一躍就能克服。

Luo Xiaojun was born into a family of high-ranking officials, where the chime of ceremonial bells and the fragrance of lavish feasts marked her privileged upbringing. She seemed like heaven’s most meticulous creation—her beauty ethereal and refined, her demeanor poised and graceful. What truly set her apart, however, was her innate intelligence, a brilliance that grasped profound truths with effortless ease. From childhood, she grew accustomed to admiration and acclaim. Luxuries were her daily norm, her every move attended by entourages, and reverence followed her wherever she went. More astonishing was her mastery of skills both elegant and unconventional: music, chess, calligraphy, painting, poetry, and literature, as well as disciplines rarely touched by women of her time—statecraft, global affairs, history, geography, natural philosophy, and the depths of Buddhist and Taoist thought. Her insights, casually shared yet profound, often left seasoned scholars in awe. Whatever she desired, no matter how unattainable it seemed to others, she would leap across the chasm with effortless grace.  

生來就擁有一切，旁人窮盡一生苦苦追尋的才華、地位與財富，羅曉君唾手可得。她習慣了這份完美，也享受著這份完美，總是表現得謙遜有禮，溫和恭謹，將一身鋒芒細心收藏。然而，在那層層包裹的完美外殼之下，一顆驕傲的心悄然跳動。對於那些她認為資質平庸、見識淺陋，或是出身卑微的人，一種難以言喻的輕蔑感便會如幽影般暗中滋長。當然，她是追求極致完美的羅大小姐，這些陰暗的心思，她不僅絕不容許外露分毫，甚至連對自己，都刻意地否認與迴避。她不只要大家佩服她，更要喜愛她，對她完全卸下心防。她是純潔無瑕的花朵，開在所有人的心窩。

Born with everything others spend lifetimes chasing—talent, status, and wealth—Luo Xiaojun claimed them effortlessly. She grew accustomed to this perfection, reveling in it, always presenting herself as humble, gracious, and gentle, her sharp edges meticulously concealed. Yet beneath that immaculate facade, a thread of pride pulsed quietly. Toward those she deemed mediocre, narrow-minded, or lowborn, an indescribable disdain grew like a shadow in her heart. Of course, she was Miss Luo, the paragon of flawlessness—she not only forbade such darkness from surfacing but even denied its existence to herself. She craved not just admiration but affection, a desire for others to lower their guards completely around her. She was the pure, unblemished flower blooming in the depths of every heart.  

日子如流水般淌過，曉君憑藉著她的聰慧，也漸漸在心底升起一絲疑慮。這份被世人稱頌也被被自己戮力維護的完美，真的就是完美嗎？或者說，這真的是她內心深處渴望的嗎？

這份看似無懈可擊的完美，其實脆弱得不堪一擊，只要稍加審視，處處是裂痕。那些被她強行壓抑無視的情感思緒，偶爾對姊妹摯友產生的嫉妒與心結，突如其來的無理取鬧，都在無聲地嘲笑著她對完美的執念。即使她引以為傲的這具皮囊，閉月羞花的容顏，在纏綿病榻之時，會變得枯槁憔悴；吹彈可破的肌膚，一旦受傷，結痂後便顯得粗糙不堪；心情惡劣之際，再美的五官也會扭曲成醜陋的模樣。

最讓她難以忍受卻又無從逃避的，是每日例行的生理需求。無論她用了多少香料薰蒸，吃的是多麼精心調理的食物，那通往淨房的時刻，總讓她感到一種難言的羞辱。無法避免的氣味，身體排出的污穢，就像一群嗡嗡作響的蒼蠅，不斷衝擊著她完美無瑕的自我認知。為何？為何無論如何努力，人終究還是會有這樣那樣的缺憾與不堪？這個念頭，如同一根細刺，扎在她心頭，隱隱作痛。

一日，春光正好，曉君在侍女與幾位閨中密友的陪伴下，出遊散心。京城的主街寬闊整潔，兩旁店鋪鱗次櫛比，販售著來自天南地北的奇珍異貨，珠寶玉器，香料古玩。琳瑯滿目的商品，繁華熱鬧的景象總能暫時撫平她心中的煩躁。

然而，就在她顧盼流連，享受著這片繁盛之時，不經意地一瞥，目光觸及了陰暗的角落。街角裡蜷縮著衣衫襤褸、面容枯槁的乞丐與遊民。他們或坐或臥，眼神空洞，帶著一種生無可戀的麻木，彷彿是這幅盛世畫卷上突兀的污點，無聲地訴說著繁華背後的淒涼。

Days flowed like water, and Xiaojun’s sharp intellect gradually stirred doubt within her. Was this perfection—so praised by the world and so fiercely guarded by herself—truly flawless? Or was it even what her deepest self truly desired?  

This seemingly impregnable perfection was, in truth, fragile. The faintest scrutiny revealed cracks everywhere. Emotions she forcibly suppressed—fleeting jealousy toward sisters and confidantes, inexplicable bitterness, sudden irrational outbursts—mocked her obsession with flawlessness. Even her prized beauty, once said to "shame the moon and flowers," withered during illness; her delicate skin, smooth as silk, turned rough with scars; her exquisite features twisted into ugliness when rage took hold.  

Yet what tormented her most was the daily indignity of bodily needs. No amount of perfumed incense or meticulously prepared meals could soften the humiliation of visiting the privy. Unavoidable odors, the expulsion of waste—they swarmed like flies, battering her pristine self-image. *Why?* she wondered. *Why must humans remain flawed, no matter how hard they strive?* The thought festered like a thorn in her heart.  

One spring day, seeking respite, Xiaojun strolled the capital’s main thoroughfare with her maids and closest friends. The street gleamed with order, flanked by shops brimming with treasures: jewels, spices, antiques from distant lands. The dazzling array of goods and lively bustle briefly soothed her restlessness.  

But as she lingered, savoring the prosperity, her gaze drifted to a shadowed corner. There, huddled figures in tattered clothes—beggars and vagrants with hollow eyes—sat or lay in numb despair. Like stains on a grand painting, they whispered silent truths of suffering beneath the splendor.  

曉君的心猛地一縮，隨即熟練地換上了那副悲天憫人的表情。她輕移蓮步，示意侍女取來一些碎銀和點心後，溫柔地開口，語氣中帶著恰到好處的慈悲：「老人家，天氣寒冷，拿去買些衣物食物吧。」

她盡力展現著自己的善良，但只有她自己知道，在那溫和的表象下，是怎樣的厭惡與疏離。看著他們污穢不堪的衣衫，散發著異味而流膿的身體，羅曉君感覺就像看到了令人作嘔的蒼蠅老鼠。一個陰暗的念頭甚至在她腦海中一閃而過：若是沒有這些人，這世間就更美好了吧？

曉君刻意控制著自己伸出手的距離，避免碰到對方那雙佈滿污垢和老繭的手。她的眼神雖然含著悲憫，卻總是不自覺地飄移，不願在那骯髒襤褸的身形上停留片刻。

然而她小心翼翼的偽裝，卻被一個頭髮花白、身形佝僂的老乞丐看出來。老漢姓黃，在這街角行乞已久，見過的人情冷暖比曉君吃過的飯還多。他盯著羅曉君，看著她那隻遞出食物卻顫抖游移的手，還有她那雙閃爍不安的眼眸。一瞬間，他什麼都明白了。

「呸！」黃老漢猛地啐了一口唾沫，聲音沙啞卻充滿力量。「虛偽的婆娘！」他伸出枯瘦的手指，直指著羅曉君，聲音陡然拔高，引得周圍行人紛紛側目：「假惺惺！妳眼裡的厭惡，老漢我看得一清二楚！妳施捨我們，不過是為了妝點妳的高貴！妳心裡怕是巴不得我們這些骯髒東西早點死絕，好讓眼裡的世界乾乾淨淨吧！」

Xiaojun’s heart clenched, but she swiftly donned her practiced mask of compassionate concern. Gliding forward with lotus-step grace, she signaled her maid to fetch silver coins and pastries, then spoke in a voice honeyed with carefully measured pity: “Elderly sir, the cold is bitter—take these for warmth and food.”  

She performed kindness flawlessly, yet only she knew the revulsion simmering beneath that gentle facade. The sight of their grime-caked clothes, bodies reeking of decay and oozing sores, filled her with the same visceral disgust as swarming flies or vermin. A dark thought even flickered through her mind: *Wouldn’t the world be fairer without such wretchedness?*  

Her outstretched hand carefully measured its distance, avoiding contact with the beggar’s grimy, calloused fingers. Though her eyes feigned empathy, her gaze kept drifting unwillingly from the filthy, tattered forms.  

Yet her meticulously crafted performance faltered under the scrutiny of one beggar—a stooped, gray-haired man surnamed Huang. Having begged at this street corner for decades, he’d witnessed more human frailty than Xiaojun had eaten meals. His milky eyes fixed on her trembling, hesitant hand, her restless eyes flickering with unease. In that moment, he understood everything. 

"*Bah!*" Old Man Huang spat fiercely, his voice raspy yet thunderous. "*Hypocrite!*" His gnarled finger jabbed at Luo Xiaojun, his tone rising to a shout that drew stares from passersby. "*Fraud! I see the disgust in your eyes! You toss us scraps just to polish your precious nobility! Bet you pray for the lot of us filthy wretches to drop dead—so your perfect little world stays spotless!*" 

羅曉君如遭雷擊，整個人僵在原地。她從未在大庭廣眾之下受過如此直白的叱責羞辱。那雙總是含著溫柔笑意的杏眼睜得大大的，充滿了震驚與難以置信。周圍的竊竊私語像針一樣扎在她身上。

「你……你胡說！」她試圖辯解，聲音卻帶著顫抖，「我……我只是……」

「只是什麼？」黃老漢步步緊逼，眼神銳利如刀，「只是嫌我們髒？嫌我們臭？怕髒了妳那雙白淨玉手？怕污了妳那雙尊貴寶眼？」

他的話語如同剝洋蔥般，一層層剝開了羅曉君精心維護的完美外衣。曉君發現，自己竟然一句反駁的話都說不出來，因為黃老漢的話語，句句直指她深藏而連自己都不願承認的心思。屈辱，憤怒，還有被看穿的恐懼，此刻化作滾燙的淚水，從她眼中撲簌簌地落下。

「老東西，放肆！」曉君的護衛見狀，勃然大怒，衝上前去對黃老漢拳打腳踢。可憐老漢年老體衰，哪裡經得起這般毆打，只得蜷縮在地，痛苦地呻吟。

雖然如此，黃老漢扔掙扎抬起頭，眼裡燃起熊熊怒火。他看著狼狽不堪的羅曉君，用盡最後的力氣，將自己腳上破爛而沾滿泥污的草鞋扔向她。

「脫掉！脫掉妳那身榮華富貴！」他嘶吼著，「換上我們這身骯髒的粗布衫！扔掉妳那踩雲踏玉的絲履！就穿我這雙臭烘烘的草鞋！妳的華美外表，不過是掩蓋妳醜陋內心的遮羞布！昂貴的鞋子，讓妳永遠也踩不到我們腳下的污泥！」

「大小姐！我們都是人！一樣是人啊！」黃老漢淒厲地吼出對羅曉君靈魂的撼動，「妳和我這糟老頭子，能有多大不同？吃了飯，一樣要拉屎！妳又能高貴到哪裡？！」

最後的那句粗鄙，卻似鋒利的匕首，狠狠刺穿了羅曉君最後的防線。她只覺得腦中嗡嗡作響，平日裡能言善辯口齒伶俐的她，此刻只像個木偶，張口結舌，面色慘白。跟班們手忙腳亂地護著她，驅散了圍觀的人群，將失魂落魄的大小姐帶回羅府。

那一夜，羅曉君輾轉難眠。黃老漢那佈滿皺紋卻怒目圓睜的臉，在她腦海中揮之不去。他沙啞而充滿憤怒的嘶吼，如同魔咒般不斷在她心底迴響。

奇怪，像黃老漢這樣卑賤污穢的老乞丐，一向為她打心底所嫌惡，為何他的話語和憤恨，會對她產生如此巨大的衝擊？那句粗鄙不堪的話，卻像一把鑰匙，打開了她一直不願面對的心結，不由自主地想起每日的出恭。

是啊，無論她是多麼尊貴的羅家大小姐，無論她的身體被多少珍貴的衣料包裹，被多少香料浸潤，最終排出的穢物，與黃老漢那樣的乞丐所排出的，又有什麼區別呢？不都是一條條的髒臭與噁心嗎？在身為人最基本的生理層面上，她所謂的高貴，蕩然無存。

就在她胡思亂想之際，貼身侍女輕手輕腳地進來通報，聲中帶著驚慌：「小姐……外面傳來消息，昨天那個……那個黃老漢，他……他死了。」

Luo Xiaojun stood as if struck by lightning, frozen in place. Never before had she been so bluntly scolded and humiliated in front of so many people. Her almond-shaped eyes, usually filled with a gentle smile, were wide open with shock and disbelief. The murmurs and whispers around her stabbed at her like needles.

“You… you’re spouting nonsense!” she tried to defend herself, but her voice trembled. “I… I only…”

“Only what?” Old Huang pressed forward, his gaze sharp as a blade. “Only think we’re filthy? That we stink? Afraid our dirt might soil your pristine, jade-like hands? Afraid our stench might offend your noble, precious eyes?”

His words peeled away the carefully maintained façade of perfection she had built, layer by layer, like stripping an onion. Xiaojun found herself utterly speechless, unable to refute a single sentence. Every word from Old Huang pierced the deepest parts of her heart—thoughts she had buried so deep, she didn’t even dare admit them to herself. Humiliation, rage, and the terror of being seen through—all these emotions welled up into hot tears that streamed uncontrollably down her face.

“You old bastard, how dare you!” her guard bellowed, enraged. He charged forward and began to beat the old man. But the poor old fellow, frail and weakened by age, could not endure the blows and collapsed on the ground, curling up and groaning in pain.

Even so, Old Huang struggled to lift his head. His eyes burned with fury. Looking at the disgraced Luo Xiaojun, he summoned the last of his strength and flung his tattered, mud-stained straw sandal at her.

“Strip it off! Strip off all your luxury and riches!” he roared. “Put on our filthy rags! Toss aside your silken shoes that walk on clouds and jade! Wear my foul-smelling straw sandals! Your splendid appearance is nothing but a cover for the ugliness within! Your expensive shoes will never step into the filth we walk through!”

“Young miss! We’re all human! We’re the same!” Old Huang cried out with a soul-piercing scream that shook her to the core. “You and this wretched old man—how different can we really be? After eating, we both have to take a shit! Just how noble do you think you are?!”

That final vulgar remark struck like a dagger, tearing down the last of Luo Xiaojun’s defenses. Her mind buzzed, and the usually eloquent and sharp-tongued woman stood like a puppet, mouth agape, face pale. Her attendants rushed to her, pushing through the crowd and escorting the dazed young mistress back to the Luo residence.

That night, Luo Xiaojun tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The image of Old Huang’s wrinkled yet fierce face haunted her mind. His hoarse, furious shouting echoed endlessly in her heart like a curse.

It was strange. A lowly, filthy beggar like Old Huang, someone she had always instinctively despised—why had his words and hatred shaken her so deeply? That crude, indecent sentence felt like a key, unlocking a knot in her heart that she had long refused to face. Unwillingly, her thoughts drifted to her daily visits to the latrine.

Yes, no matter how noble she was as the daughter of the Luo family, no matter how many layers of rare silk she wore, no matter how much fragrant oil soaked her skin, the waste her body expelled was no different from that of Old Huang’s. It was all the same foul, disgusting filth. On the most basic, human, biological level—her so-called nobility crumbled to nothing.

Just as these thoughts tangled in her mind, her personal maid quietly stepped in, her voice filled with panic.

“Miss… news just came… that old man from yesterday… Old Huang… he… he’s dead.”

死了！？

羅曉君的心臟猛地一沉，難以形容的窒息感瞬間攫住了她。震驚，愧疚，還有某種說不清道不明的情緒，在她胸中翻湧。是氣急攻心？還是……因為那一頓毆打？她幾乎是下意識地披衣而起，不顧侍女的勸阻，執意要去看看。

當她再次來到昨日那個街角，看到的已是黃老漢冰冷僵硬的屍體，被一張破蓆蓋著，旁邊散落著一些銅錢，大概是好心人留下的。而那雙扔向她的草鞋，孤零零地躺在不遠處的泥地上，彷彿在等著曉君到來。

周圍的空氣似乎都凝固了。曉君呆呆地站著，看著那具了無生氣的軀體，轉頭看向草鞋，胸口像是被巨石堵住，悶得發慌。不知是何種力量驅使，她緩緩走上前，撿起了草鞋，脫下了自己腳上繡著精美花紋的軟緞繡鞋，把原屬於乞丐黃老漢的草鞋，套在了自己精巧白皙的雙足上。

一瞬間，天旋地轉。一股難以言喻的感受，如同洶湧的潮水，衝進了羅曉君的意識。那不是她的記憶，卻又真實得可怕。是飢餓，是寒冷，是被人驅趕的屈辱，是病痛的折磨，是長年累月在底層掙扎的悲苦與絕望……那是黃老漢一生的縮影，此刻，隨著這雙草鞋，蠻橫地融入了她的存在。

曉君全身劇烈地顫抖起來，她感覺自己精心構建的「完美羅曉君」的虛像，正在一片片剝落崩解，自己開始逃離自己。

她那顆曾經飽受無數人讚美容顏和才情的頭顱，彷彿有了自己的意志，猛地脫離了穿著綾羅綢緞的身體，並與她那隻穿著草鞋的左腿結合在一起。這個怪異的結合物，以滑稽卻奮力的姿態一躍而起，直衝雲霄，彷彿要到天庭，在天仙環繞中展示已然殘破而不堪的驕傲自我。她烏黑亮麗的長髮，此刻卻狼狽地纏繞在沾滿泥濘的腳踝上，而曾經纖巧精緻的腳掌，只散發出屬於老乞丐的汗臭與污濁。

Dead!?

Luo Xiaojun’s heart sank like a stone, a suffocating pressure gripping her chest so tightly she could barely breathe. Shock, guilt, and an unnameable storm of emotions surged within her. Was it a sudden attack of rage that killed him? Or… was it because of the beating? Almost by instinct, she threw on a robe and rose to her feet, ignoring her maid’s pleas as she insisted on going to see for herself.

When she returned to the street corner from the day before, what greeted her was Old Huang’s cold, stiff corpse, covered by a tattered reed mat. Scattered around him were a few coins, likely left by some kind-hearted passerby. And not far from him, the same straw sandals he had thrown at her lay quietly in the muddy ground—as if waiting for Xiaojun to arrive.

The air around her seemed to freeze. Xiaojun stood motionless, staring at the lifeless body, then slowly turned to look at the sandals. Her chest felt like it was being crushed under a massive weight, stifling and unbearable. Moved by some invisible force, she slowly stepped forward, picked up the sandals, took off her own embroidered silk shoes with their delicate floral patterns, and slid her fair, delicate feet into the filthy sandals that once belonged to a beggar.

In that moment, the world spun.

An indescribable sensation surged through her like a crashing tide, flooding her consciousness. They weren’t her memories—yet they felt terrifyingly real. Hunger. Cold. The humiliation of being driven away. The torment of illness. The bitter despair of a lifetime spent struggling at the bottom of society. It was the condensed essence of Old Huang’s entire life, now violently merging with her being through those sandals.

Xiaojun’s body began to tremble violently. She could feel the illusion of the “perfect Luo Xiaojun” she had so carefully built crumbling away, piece by piece. She was fleeing from herself.

Her head—once praised by countless people for its beauty and brilliance—seemed to gain a will of its own. Suddenly, it broke free from the body clad in fine silks and brocades and merged with her left leg, the one now wearing the straw sandal. This bizarre fusion leapt into the air with a ridiculous yet determined posture, shooting straight toward the heavens, as if trying to reach the celestial realm and display her shattered and pitiful pride among the gathering of immortals. Her once lustrous black hair now hung in disarray, tangled messily around her mud-stained ankle, while the delicate, graceful foot of her past now reeked of the sweat and filth that belonged to an old beggar.

與此同時，她的右腿，也脫離了軀幹。它接納了她那雙曾經彈奏出美妙樂曲、描繪出秀麗山河，此刻卻因遞出施捨而猶豫的雙手。她身體裡那些她最想排斥的臟器，也紛紛依附在這條腿上。右手緊緊抓著那顆總在滋生虛偽心思的心臟，左手則捏著那讓她不得不面對排泄尷尬的腎臟與膀胱。而那不斷蠕動製造出令她厭惡的污穢的腸子，沉甸甸地馱在腿上。這個由右腿和雙手結合不的部分，攜帶著內臟蹦蹦跳跳，一路朝著不幸的深淵奔去，彷彿隨時會跌落懸崖峭壁。

 At the same time, her right leg also detached from her torso. It accepted her hands—hands that had once played beautiful melodies and painted magnificent landscapes, yet now hesitated in the act of giving alms. The organs within her body that she most wished to reject began to cling to this leg one by one. Her right hand clutched tightly at the heart that constantly brewed false thoughts, while her left hand gripped the kidneys and bladder that forced her to confront the shame of bodily excretion. The ever-squirming intestines, which produced filth she loathed, lay heavily draped across the leg. This grotesque assembly—formed from her right leg and both hands—bounced along, burdened with the weight of her internal organs, hopping toward a pit of misfortune, as if it might tumble off a cliff at any moment.

而被拋下的，是羅曉君依然穿著華美錦衣，象徵著她高貴身份的軀體。此刻扛著這具軀體踽踽前行的，卻是死去的黃老漢那雙醜陋衰敗的腳。黃老漢臨死前的不甘與怒火，則化作了無形的怨靈，盤踞在原本屬於曉君頭部的位置，引領著這具失去頭顱與四肢的軀殼，走向陰晦的幽冥。

Left behind was Luo Xiaojun’s body, still adorned in splendid robes—a symbol of her noble status. Yet the ones now trudging forward beneath that body were the ugly, withered feet of the deceased Old Huang. The resentment and fury he carried to his grave had transformed into a formless vengeful spirit, now occupying the space where Xiaojun’s head once rested. It guided this headless, limbless shell of a body toward the shadowy realm of the underworld.

不知何時，周圍出現了更多的孤魂野鬼。他們衣衫襤褸，面容模糊，圍繞著分裂成三部分的羅曉君，有的敲鑼打鼓，有的放聲歌唱，有的手舞足蹈，光怪陸離，像是一場只屬於她一個人的的百鬼夜行。

At some unknown point, more wandering spirits and restless ghosts appeared around her. Dressed in tattered rags with blurred, indistinct faces, they surrounded the three fragmented parts of Luo Xiaojun. Some beat gongs and drums, others sang at the top of their lungs, and still others danced wildly, moving in bizarre and fantastical ways. It was a night parade of a hundred demons—one that belonged to her and her alone.

啊啊……原來如此……

羅曉君回首，看著分裂而彼此厭惡自己，心中漸漸有了不同的感悟。飛向天庭的頭顱與左腳，是她曾經引以為傲的才情、容貌與高高在上的姿態，是她對至高至上孜孜不倦的追求，卻因自己內在的污濁而尷尬不堪，怪誕至極。

奔向深淵的右腿和雙手，是她對被自己嫌惡否認的虛偽、慾望和身體的「骯髒」所進行排斥的「努力」，攜出她不想要自己有的內在，驅逐到眼不見為淨的地方。

而剩下的「高貴」軀殼，與徹底跟自己的特質相矛盾的黃老漢混成一體，把「卑賤」送進羅曉君的存在，醜陋的雙腳承載著她最虛假的自我認知，低下的鬼靈在她軀殼內竄上竄下，觸摸著她深深藏起的核心。

藉由黃老漢和他的草鞋，羅曉君以最荒誕而極端的方式，作踐了那個完美無瑕而高高在上的自己。她感受著黃老漢的悲苦，感受著那份與她羅家大小姐身份融合的卑微存在；感受著不再被美麗皮囊包裹而暴露在風雨中的內在；感受著那份嚮往高處卻殘破不堪的狼狽。她深刻地體會到，她所擁有的一切不過源於天生的好運。若沒有這份好運，她與黃老漢之間又能有什麼高低之別本質差異？拿掉源自於外的，什麼才真的是羅曉君呢？

Ah… so that’s how it is…

Luo Xiaojun looked back at the fragmented parts of herself, each loathing the other, and a new understanding gradually began to dawn in her heart.

The head and left leg soaring toward the heavens were the embodiment of her once-prized talents, beauty, and lofty pride—the relentless pursuit of superiority and perfection. Yet now, tainted by her inner filth, they appeared absurd and grotesque.

The right leg and hands bounding toward the abyss represented her desperate efforts to cast out the parts of herself she deemed shameful—the hypocrisy, desires, and the “dirtiness” of the physical body. They carried away the aspects of her inner self she had tried so hard to reject, banishing them to a place far from sight.

And what remained—the “noble” torso—was fused with the utterly contradictory presence of Old Huang. His lowly existence had been thrust into her being, and now his filthy, decaying feet bore the weight of her most deluded self-image. Wretched spirits crawled through her body, poking and prodding the core she had kept buried deep inside.

Through Old Huang and his straw sandals, Luo Xiaojun had desecrated her flawless, exalted self in the most absurd and extreme way. She felt his suffering—felt the humiliation of a lowly existence merged with her identity as the noble daughter of the Luo family. She felt her inner self exposed to the storm, no longer protected by a beautiful shell. She felt the desperate longing to rise above, now in tatters and disgrace.

In that moment, she understood with piercing clarity: everything she had possessed came from nothing more than sheer luck at birth. Without that luck, what true difference could there have ever been between her and Old Huang? Stripped of everything external—what remained?

What, in the end, was the real Luo Xiaojun?

天，終究會亮的。

當第一縷晨曦刺破黑暗，黎明喚醒大地，獨自一人的百鬼夜行也悄然落幕。羅曉君站在街角，晨光溫柔地灑在她身上。擁有著無限美好的羅家大小姐回到了人世間，似乎一切如常。不過她低頭望望懷裡還揣著的草鞋，知道黃老漢已無從從她的存在離去。

腹中傳來一陣輕微的咕咕聲。看來，昨天精心烹製的蓮葉羹、鮮美的松江鱸魚，還有那飯後品飲的武夷大紅袍，已經完成了它們在身體裡的旅程，迫不及待地想要離開了。

曉君回府，準備更衣出恭。她輕輕地拍了拍自己的小腹，心中沒有了往日的厭惡與羞恥，反而升起一股奇妙的歉意與感謝。

感謝這具身體的日復一日地運作，感謝它讓她體驗生而為人的真實。從這一刻起，她終於能夠心無芥蒂地成為羅曉君。

浮華若夢，唯真為實。穿透過往的癲狂與破碎，羅曉君在晨光中，緩緩閉上雙眼，腹部微微出力，把自己託付給自己。櫻桃微破，一部分的昨日探頭，帶著氣味怯生生地鑽出。曉君輕輕地感受搔癢，那是身體帶給她的，生命的訊息。

The sky, in the end, always brightens.

As the first light of dawn pierced through the darkness and morning awakened the world, the solitary Hyakki Yagyō quietly came to an end. Luo Xiaojun stood at the street corner, the gentle morning sun casting its light upon her. The esteemed young lady of the Luo family—blessed with endless beauty and fortune—had returned to the world of the living, and everything seemed as it was before.

But when she looked down at the straw sandals still tucked in her arms, she knew—Old Huang would never again leave her being.

A soft gurgle echoed from her belly. It seemed that the carefully prepared lotus-leaf soup, the succulent Songjiang perch, and the Wuyi Da Hong Pao tea she had sipped after the meal yesterday had completed their journey through her body and were now impatient to make their exit.

Xiaojun returned to the mansion, ready to change and relieve herself. She gently patted her lower belly, feeling no trace of the old shame or disgust. Instead, a strange sense of apology and gratitude welled up from within.

Gratitude for this body that had worked tirelessly, day after day. Gratitude that it allowed her to experience the reality of being human. From this moment on, she could finally become Luo Xiaojun—without pretense, without guilt.

Vanity is but a dream; only truth is real. Piercing through all the madness and shattering of the past, Luo Xiaojun, bathed in morning light, slowly closed her eyes. She gently tightened her abdomen and entrusted herself—to herself.

A cherry gently split open. A piece of yesterday peeked out timidly, carrying with it a faint scent. Xiaojun felt a subtle tickle—life, whispering to her through her own body.

The Filthiest Sanctity - The Legend of Yue Huangying's Mother, Huang Chunxiang

 

===Prologue===  

The bronze candlestick in the Huang Clan Ancestral Hall bore an ancestral maxim: "*Sever karma, not people; kill to protect life.*" Twelve-year-old Chunxiang knelt on the cold blue bricks, her father Zhenyue's reprimand echoing in her ears: "Do you know why our Huang Clan gained footing in the Xuanmen realm three centuries ago?"  

In the flickering candlelight, her father unfurled a yellowed silk scroll. The painting depicted Huang's founding ancestor wielding a peachwood sword, trampling over countless demonic limbs. Chunxiang noticed translucent humanoid figures蜷缩 in the corner - the slaughtered demons' eyes streaming bloody tears.  

"At seven, Patriarch Huang grasped the sword; by sixteen, he purged the demon nest of Western Mountain." Her father's finger traced dried vermilion seals on the silk. "Villagers once sacrificed children to demons there, until the Patriarch reforged human virtue with blood."  

Chunxiang stared at the Patriarch's twisted visage. Why did this deified hero look more ferocious than the demons? She recalled what she'd seen three days prior behind the ancestral hall - a lightning-charred ancient locust tree hollow containing dozens of child skeletons, its roots entwined with corroded bronze ritual vessels.  

"Why did the Patriarch suddenly enter closed-door cultivation?" she blurted. Her father violently rerolled the scroll, making the bronze candlestick hum.  

========================  

Huang Chunxiang lived up to her name - "Spring Fragrance" - entering the world with vernal freshness. She should have been the proudest daughter of the illustrious Huang Clan, a Daoist sorcery family risen from obscurity through rigid discipline and uncompromising morality. They viewed their celestial mandate as eradicating evil spirits, believing prosperity their rightful reward for upholding righteousness. Elders rejoiced at Chunxiang's prodigious spiritual talents, expecting her to become the clan's new prodigy.  

Yet as Chunxiang grew, unease festered within the clan. This hopeful heir rebelled against expectations. Her compassion knew no bounds; she shunned combat, showing pity even towards vicious demons.  

"Since when does Huang blood tolerate demonic filth?"  

"Is she cowardly?"  

"Or too self-preserving to fight?"  

Accusations flooded Chunxiang. Her parents burned with shame.  

She endured silently, heart bleeding. Not from cowardice, but because her soul perceived the anguish behind "evil" beings - tormented spirits, slain innocents, creatures persecuted through misunderstanding. Their voiceless weeping needled her conscience. How could she annihilate them? She sought salvation, not slaughter. Without argument, she stubbornly pursued her own dao.  

At sixteen, Chunxiang resolved to save spirits through inverted sorcery. Moonlight bathed her chamber as she soaked shorn hair in morning dew, braiding strands while reciting the *Purifying Earth Mantra*. Golden sigils - the Huang bloodline's demon-subduing glyphs - shimmered in reverse flow within her locks. She wove these cursed strands into simple black cloth shoes.  

At dawn, Chunxiang donned these soleless shoes, bare feet bonding with suffering earth, heading towards a demon-ravaged town. The braided shoes oozed dark red with each step - reversed sigils backlashing. Flesh melted from her soles, channeling purer spiritual energy into the land.  

The town's central temple lay in ruins, now a demonic realm festering with vengeful ghosts and rampaging spirits. Yet when Chunxiang opened her heart, she saw truth: a bridal-robed girl haunting rubble with purple strangulation marks; a one-armed daoist clutching broken swords, chest bleeding crimson; a century-old fox demon cradling its severed head, railing against heaven's cruelty. Their memories flooded her, near-suffocating.  

Bearing this agony, Chunxiang reached the cursed epicenter. Standing in temple ruins, she released warm spiritual energy through her braided shoes. Her power flowed like spring streams over scorched earth, sunlight piercing frozen gloom.  

The demonic realm convulsed. Rage-filled entities flocked to this warmth like moths. Touching her shoes, they dissolved into Chunxiang's legs through tender absorption. Their fury and grief soothed in her oceanic compassion; their sins absorbed by her resilient heart. She purified without destruction, granting peace.  

When the Huangs arrived, they recoiled. Their pure jade daughter now radiated concentrated "filth" - countless tainted entities nested within her flesh! Her sanctity defiled!  

To them, Chunxiang had become corruption incarnate. Fear overrode kinship. After bitter debate, they exiled her, stripping the Huang name.  

Now rootless, Chunxiang wandered yet persisted. Wherever she went, she absorbed suffering souls.  

During travels, she rescued Yue Qingyan - a mortally wounded scion from the immortal Yue Clan. As she healed him with Daoist arts, he attempted Yue purification techniques on her. When Qingyan touched the blackened marks on her neck, burning needles stabbed his fingers - his clan's cleansing arts rejecting her corruption. Persisting, his spiritual sight revealed horrors: a chained fox demon birthing cubs under executioners' blades; a scholar leaping into a well with lightning-scorched exam papers...  

"Don't look," Chunxiang whispered, but Qingyan gripped tighter. Sweating, he suppressed his clan's demon-slaying instincts through meditation. Finally understanding why his dying body had instinctively crawled to her - beneath the "filth" pulsed purer life essence than any elixir.  

Looking at tainted Chunxiang, Qingyan saw only sacred beauty. "You're the holiest soul I've known," he vowed.  

Chunxiang's sealed heart cracked open. Since exile, she'd never felt such acceptance. Years of loneliness erupted in Qingyan's embrace as she wept through the night, shattered spirit mending under his love.  

Their passion conceived Yue Huangying. Those months were Chunxiang's happiest. But joy proved fleeting illusion.  

Her body - vessel for countless spirits - decayed daily. The Yue lineage's potent spiritual blood clashed catastrophically with Huang flesh. Her womb became an overfilled balloon, cracks spreading.  

Instinct demanded expelling the foreign energy. But feeling her child's kicks, Chunxiang chose differently. She burned her remaining life-force to suppress bodily rejection, channeling all vitality to her unborn daughter.  

Labor was brief agony. When the infant's cry rang out, Chunxiang's ruined body expired. Turning her paper-white face towards the wrinkled, vibrant life she'd birthed, she smiled exhaustedly - the world's most beautiful sound echoing as she departed.  

Huang Chunxiang completed her dao - achieving supreme sanctity through ultimate defilement. Carrying endless love, she dissolved like spring blossoms after brief glory, leaving only warmth to guard her daughter Yue Huangying.  

The Yin and Yang of a Genius Immortal Cultivator Girl

Night fell, stars dotted the sky. In a secluded valley in the back mountains of the Yue family, a renowned family of immortal cultivators, a slender figure sat cross-legged. The girl was around ten years old, her skin fairer than snow, her features as beautiful as a painting. A faint golden halo surrounded her, a symbol of condensed, pure immortal energy. She was Yue Huangying（岳 黃英，黃英 means "yellow blooms"), the Yue family's proud genius girl.

At this moment, Yue Huangying was immersed in deep cultivation. Her consciousness, like invisible threads, extended outwards, trying to capture the elusive truths of the Great Dao. She gently raised her hand, and brilliant immortal light flowed from her fingertips, sometimes transforming into sharp sword energy that cleaved through the void, and sometimes condensing into gentle rain that nourished all things. To master such a diverse range of immortal techniques at her age was a testament to her extraordinary talent.

Even more remarkable was Yue Huangying's understanding of Daoist philosophy. Her comprehension of Yin and Yang, the Five Elements, and the cycle of heavenly laws had already surpassed that of many seniors who had cultivated for years. Her insights often struck at the very essence of things, as if only a thin veil separated her from the Great Dao, within easy reach.

However, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much her strength improved, that thin veil always remained impenetrable. The Great Dao was right in front of her, so close, yet always just out of reach, as if an invisible barrier was blocking her.

Yue Huangying opened her clear eyes, a hint of frustration flashing deep within them, almost imperceptible. She knew that the problem likely lay within herself. Her cultivation was nearly perfect, yet there was always a sense of disharmony, a subtle stagnation, like a tiny grain of sand mixed into the gears of a precise machine. This grain of sand, Yue Huangying vaguely felt, was related to a hazy shadow in her memory—her mother.

Her mother had "disappeared" since she could remember. The elders of the Yue family always avoided the topic, their eyes carrying an unspeakable complexity. Her father, Yue Qingyan, had died from cultivation deviation when she was very young. Her memories of her mother were only fragmented pieces, along with the lonely smile on her father's face before his death.

She still remembered when she was little, innocently tugging at her father's sleeve and asking curiously, "Daddy, why is my name Huangying?"

The afterglow of the setting sun fell on her father's face, adding to his loneliness. He looked up at her words, gazed at the gradually darkening clouds in the sky, then turned back to her, forcing a gentle yet lonely smile.

"Huangying ah..." His voice was a little hoarse, as if recalling some beautiful past events, "Daddy loves spring very much. At that time, all kinds of flowers bloom, colorful and vibrant. Especially yellow flowers, you see, there's the warm apricot yellow, the lively goose yellow, they always bring Daddy the power of life. So, Daddy named you Huangying, hoping that you can also be like the yellow flowers in spring, full of beauty."

At that time, Yue Huangying didn't understand the deeper meaning behind her father's smile, she just thought the name "Huangying" sounded very nice. But when she asked further about her mother, her father's eyes dimmed, and he just perfunctorily said that her mother had gone to a faraway place. And the others in the Yue family always had a subtle, strange look on their faces, vaguely avoiding her questions.

As she grew older, Yue Huangying gradually sensed the Yue family members' unspoken secret about her mother. They seemed to deliberately avoid the topic, their eyes always carrying a hint of pity and unease that she couldn't understand. Intelligent as she was, she slowly stopped asking. She told herself that as long as she cultivated diligently enough and reached the Great Dao in the end, all questions would be answered.

However, when her cultivation reached an extremely high level, she felt an unprecedented resistance. Her Daoist skills were nearly perfect, but they seemed to be stuck by something deeply rooted in her essence. The feeling was very peculiar, as if she wasn't a complete individual.

Once, during an extremely deep cultivation session, Yue Huangying tried to disassociate herself and feel the origin of all things. Just as her consciousness was about to merge into the void, she suddenly felt that her legs, which originally carried her light existence, seemed to bear immeasurable suffering. That sorrow and despair didn't belong to her, yet she couldn't separate herself from it. And her wisdom and knowledge were "borrowed" along with her head, absorbed by a force from an unknown source, as if only to satisfy some indescribable demand. As for the emotions and instincts deep within her heart, they coldly watched all of this, like an irrelevant bystander.

Yue Huangying suddenly pulled herself out of that strange state, a strong sense of unease rising in her heart. She realized that she didn't completely control her own existence. Having made up her mind, she created a special Daoist technique, trying to communicate more deeply with her own being.

Several days later, Yue Huangying completed the Daoist technique. She closed her eyes and visualized herself in her mind. This "self" reached out and gently took off her head, holding it up to manipulate it, so that the self-awareness it carried would no longer cover her body. This allowed her body to break free from the constraints of being Yue Huangying, freely interact with the world, and release all its hidden information.

While observing herself, Yue Huangying was surprised to find that her composition was not a unified whole, and there was some inherent disharmony. Beneath her appearance as the Yue family's genius immortal cultivator girl, there seemed to be something else hidden. A strong desire grew in her heart; she had to undertake a thorough "deep dive" into herself to explore the root cause.

After a period of preparation, Yue Huangying finally made up her mind. She focused her mind and elevated her cultivation to the extreme. Her consciousness was highly concentrated, like a sharp blade, ready to cut through the fog that shrouded her.

She began to perform the dangerous Daoist technique. In her visualization, the head representing her identity as Yue Huangying slowly separated from the body representing her true being and heart. Then, she ventured to dismantle the Taiji, formed by her pure Daoist cultivation and symbolizing the unity of her mind. The Taiji slowly rotated, and the Yin and Yang components that constituted it gradually separated, creating a deep rift between them. As the two components separated, Yue Huangying's self-awareness and her inner self completely parted ways.

Yue Huangying's head turned into a soulless, precise machine, executing the plan exactly as she had conceived it beforehand, unleashing immortal techniques without restraint on her headless body. These immortal techniques were like invisible hands, forcibly opening the torso that represented the core of her being, extracting from it rays of brilliant light, which were information about her existence—narratives of her essence, memories, emotions, and experiences. This information condensed in the air, eventually transforming into an ancient and simple book, slowly forming on the legs that were responsible for carrying her existence. Yue Huangying's "head" began to read this book that recorded her self. The pages turned silently, and lines of tiny characters flickered like starlight. When she turned to the page recording her mother, a line of blurred handwriting entered her sight: "Mother: Huang."

The character "Huang" in her mother's surname was deliberately blurred, as if trying to conceal something. But even so, Yue Huangying still recognized it through her deep self-examination. It turned out that the character "Huang" in her name was not only the color of flowers as her father had said, but also came from her mother's "Huang."

Moreover, her mother's "Huang" was not ordinary; it was filled with an extraordinary aura. Her mother was no ordinary woman with the surname Huang; her "Huang" had characteristics that were too self-assertive. It was clear that her mother came from another immortal cultivation family, the Caotou Huang family.

The Huang family, who dominated Caotou, did not have a good reputation in the immortal cultivation world. If not notorious, they were at least controversial. They seemed to have little interest in pursuing the Heavenly Dao, but they had an almost fanatical pursuit of the power of immortal techniques. They believed in the supremacy of strength and used it to exchange for fame, status, power, and wealth. In addition, the Huang family's methods of exterminating demons were extremely violent and cruel, often criticized by other immortal cultivation families. Towards those immortal cultivation families weaker than them, the Huang family was even more extremely snobbish.

The Yue family, as a leader in the immortal cultivation world, had always kept the Huang family at a distance, regarding them as representatives of vulgarity. However, the Huang family tried every means to please the highly esteemed Yue family, trying to get close to them with excessive flattery. Yet, the rising star of the Yue family was actually born to a mother from the Huang family, which was undoubtedly a great irony for the Yue family. The nearly perfect talent for immortal cultivation and personal traits that Yue Huangying possessed were actually nurtured by an existence that the Yue family viewed as full of vulgarity, snobbery, and cruelty. How could the Yue family accept this?

Yue Huangying also knew that the Caotou Huang family had offended too many enemies and had been wiped out by allied hostile forces several years ago. Was her mother still alive in this world? Yue Huangying had no idea. She let her body reach out and gently stroke the mottled and blurred character "Huang" on the page. An unspeakable sense of resonance surged from the depths of her body. Yes, her name also had a "Huang," and her blood also flowed with the bloodline from that Huang family.

She could choose to seal all of this away and continue to be the flawless genius immortal cultivator girl of the Yue family, enjoying the admiration and expectations of everyone. However, how could a person who didn't even dare to face their true identity truly reach the Great Dao? Yue Huangying knew very well that she couldn't bypass reality. She had to let the part of her existence that came from the Huang family emerge from the dust to explore the truth about herself.

After the Daoist technique was completed, Yue Huangying returned to her original state. She gently stroked her chest, closed her eyes, and looked inward, feeling the other half hidden within her body. The Huang family's traits had not been "activated" before, but after being recognized, they began to surge beneath her calm exterior. She felt the desire for power, the ambition for worldly authority, and the ruthless decisiveness when facing things she disliked. The time had come for her to truly become a "Huang family member" once. Yue Huangying carefully considered and planned the steps to transform herself, collecting the necessary items and creating the required Daoist techniques.

After some more time, Yue Huangying had done everything she needed to do, so she loosened the reins on her nature and let it guide her. She slowly got up, took off the clothes she usually wore as a genius immortal cultivator girl, and put on attire suitable for the Huang family's traits. A pearl-colored silk dress, intricate gold ornaments transformed into blooming flowers, setting off her originally delicate face with a hint of enchanting charm. She looked in the mirror and carefully applied makeup. The rouge and eyeshadow on her face were a departure from her usual bare face, and her eyes and brows carried a hint of sharpness and allure.

Just as she finished dressing, Yue Huangying clearly felt the part of her that had been sleeping was completely awakened. Her mind, which should have been as calm as water, was now like a raging fire, churning within her. She stood up, glanced at the elegant embroidered shoes she usually wore, and turned to slip her feet into sandals from the Huang family. Her jade-like toes peeked out from the front of the crystal-clear shoes, as if declaring that she was no longer bound by elegance, wantonly flaunting her existence.

"Strike while the iron is hot!" Yue Huangying whispered, her fingers forming a hand seal, and cast a spell on herself again, reconstructing the essence of her being. Just as the immortal technique took effect, an unspeakable sense of strangeness washed over Yue Huangying. Her head seemed to be ejected by an invisible force, with only a wobbly, spring-like connection remaining between it and her body. She found that she had lost the dominance over her self-definition. The genius girl who represented the Yue family's glory was only remembered in her head, attached to her foundation made up of the Huang family's bloodline. The demands from the depths of her being solidified into illusory hands, pulling her forward. Yue Huangying didn't know where she would be taken, she could only let herself be manipulated.

As she walked, the figure symbolized by the illusory hands gradually became concrete, forming the illusion of a woman. This was the embodiment of the Huang family's lingering thoughts establishing a connection with her through her mother. The illusion reached out and gently stroked Yue Huangying's body, then gently opened her chest, took out the "Huang" character from the page about her mother in the record of her existence, and embedded it into Yue Huangying's heart, putting a hand on her shoulder, welcoming her "return."

Yue Huangying's existence was completely reshaped. Her "Yue" no longer held meaning. Her name became the simplest two characters—Huang Ying, surname Huang, given name Ying.

Huang Ying returned to the Yue family and calmly informed her bewildered family members that she would be leaving for a while and would return after dealing with some matters. The elders of the Yue family felt an aura emanating from Huang Ying that was completely different from before. It was an aura filled with desire and temptation, carrying a hint of elusive danger. Their proud, flawless little princess was gone. Realizing the complex situation Huang Ying faced, although their hearts were filled with questions and unease, they could only helplessly watch her leave.

Following the pull of her Huang family roots, Huang Ying traveled a long distance alone to the ruins of the Huang family manor. The former prosperity had long since turned into a scene of broken walls and rubble, with only weeds swaying in the wind, telling tales of past glory and decline. Huang Ying wandered through these ruins, carefully feeling what it meant to be a Huang family member.

Yes, at this moment, she could clearly feel that pursuit of a gorgeous appearance, that attitude of flattering superiors at all costs, and the contempt for the weak and those inferior to her. A cruel thought of wanting to completely eradicate the existence that disgusted her also surged in her heart. The so-called perfection, the so-called calm elegance, nobility, and benevolence, now seemed somewhat hypocritical in her eyes. These beautiful qualities were all built upon the foundation of ordinary and desire-filled human nature.

However, Huang Ying did not deny Yue Huangying because of this. Who said that people with ordinary human nature are not qualified to strive for peace, elegance, nobility, and benevolence through hard work? She believed that to reach the Great Dao, she had to be able to accept all of herself, including those less glamorous parts, whether she liked them or not.

Huang Ying found the underground dojo hidden beneath the ruins of the Huang family. She stood with her hands down, activating the facilities in the dojo with magic, causing it to decompose her existence and immerse each part in the lingering thoughts of the Huang family. Her right foot left first, stepping on a treasure pot shimmering with dazzling light, symbolizing the Huang family's strong desire for wealth; her left foot bore a golden token, representing their relentless pursuit of power; a gorgeous crown was placed on her head, symbolizing their craving for fame; and her body was hung high in mid-air, her hands hanging down limply, as if accepting this transformation without resistance.

At this moment, although Huang Ying had completely accepted the traits of the Huang family, the self-awareness belonging to Yue Huangying still existed in her head. That once near-perfect girl quietly watched her disassembled self, her heart filled with mixed emotions.

When Huang Ying walked out of the ruins of the Huang family manor again, she was already a complete "Huang family member." When she raised her head, examining the surging desires and emotions within her, she felt the lingering thoughts and wishes of the Huang family lingering around her, sometimes enthusiastically inviting her to integrate into them, and sometimes with a hint of mockery, whispering questions to her: Are you still that noble Yue family member? Aren't you actually one of us? The Huang family's twisted feelings towards the Yue family even made Huang Ying feel an absurd sense of inferiority towards Yue Huangying, as if her former self was both an object of worship and an object of jealousy.

Huang Ying tasted this strangeness, remaining silent, her heart already having a clear goal. She allowed herself to become a Huang family member not to indulge in their desires, but to better understand them, understand her mother, and thus understand herself. She returned to the residence she had when she was Yue Huangying. At this moment, her "Huang" was completely formed, filled with the lingering thoughts and information of the Huang family. She carefully took out the "Huang" character originating from her mother from her body, preparing to reconstruct her projection in the real world.

Because Huang Ying's understanding and knowledge of her mother were already very complete, the reconstruction process was quite smooth. Her mother's limbs and components were projected one by one according to the appearance Huang Ying had conceived; and her mother's personality projection gradually formed, watching her own body parts being created and assembled by her daughter in order. Her daughter's gentle and emotionally rich spiritual power wrapped around her soon-to-be-formed body through magic, causing her to feel shy.

As the reconstruction projection process neared completion, a soft light illuminated the room, and the figure of a woman with a gentle smile slowly emerged. Huang Ying finally got to see the face of her mother, whom she had never met. "Mom..." Huang Ying whispered, her eyes slightly wet. She and her mother's projection embraced and wept, pouring out the words of longing that had never been conveyed.

Her mother's original name was Huang Chunxiang (黃 春香，春香

means "smells of the spring"). Although she came from the Huang family, known for its toughness and ruthlessness, her personality was gentle and kind. She possessed innately powerful spiritual energy, but because she couldn't bear to harm living beings, she was unable to fight and was considered an anomaly by the family. Ultimately, she was expelled from the Huang family and even stripped of the Huang surname. During her wanderings after losing her surname, her mother silently used her spiritual power to care for the weak and transform those demons who had lost their minds. By chance, her mother rescued Yue Qingyan, who was seriously injured in a battle with demons. Yue Qingyan was deeply attracted to her and pursued her passionately, which led to the birth of Yue Huangying. Unfortunately, the spiritual energy contained in the Yue family's bloodline was incompatible with the physical characteristics derived from the Huang family, leading to a difficult labor. Chunxiang faced a dilemma. To save her daughter, she sacrificed her physical body and passed away after giving birth to Yue Huangying in the spring when all things flourish. Yue Qingyan and Chunxiang didn't have time to hold a formal wedding, so Chunxiang didn't marry into the Yue family, and the Yue family, due to various considerations, didn't leave a record of her position in the family. Yue Qingyan was very sad, deeply feeling that he had let her down, and also regretting that he didn't have the chance to give her the Yue surname, making her Yue Chunxiang. The inner trauma also caused Yue Qingyan's cultivation to not enter a suitable state, leading to cultivation deviation and the recurrence of old injuries, and he passed away in just a few years. Yue Huangying understood that the name her father gave her was to commemorate her mother, who fell like a yellow flower in spring—so beautiful, so short-lived, so fragile.

Huang Ying reconstructed her mother's projection. Through reuniting with her mother, her heart felt like the clouds had parted to reveal the sun, and all her confusion and entanglement vanished. She mended the previously unnoticed cracks in her own existence and understood her own composition. She entrusted her "Huang" to her mother's projection (in essence, the projection was also composed of her existence, a part of her). Her main body could be said to no longer have the surname Huang, reverting to Yue Huangying, a Yue family member who had completed her own "Huang." Her composition was still complex, still full of contradictions, still had internal conflicts, but these were all parts of herself that she could get along with and treat well. Vulgarity, snobbery, resentment, and various desires—Yue Huangying would fully experience and savor these components of herself, advancing towards the Great Dao with the pursuit of truth. In this process, no part of herself could be abandoned.

The season came to spring again. Following her mother's projection forward, the Yue family's genius immortal cultivator girl was fully restored. As she walked, she felt so happy—yes, if she didn't have human desires, where would her happiness come from?

The Demon-Slaying Shrine Maiden Who Serves Her Own Body as a God

Deep within the old mansion of the Kanda family, a solemn ritual was underway. Eighteen-year-old Sakura Kanda knelt in the center of the altar, surrounded by the venerable elders of the family, their expressions grave as they chanted ancient incantations in low voices. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood, and an indescribable spiritual energy, as if emanating from the depths of the earth, permeated the atmosphere.

Sakura Kanda could feel the torrent of spiritual power within her body, a powerful force she had possessed since birth, as radiant and full of life as cherry blossoms blooming in spring. Since childhood, she had been told that she bore the heavy responsibility of restoring her family's fortunes. This family, which once held a lofty position in the Shinto world, was gradually losing its former glory, like cherry blossoms that wither after blooming. Sakura Kanda was their only hope.

On the altar, a cherry-colored jewel emitting a soft glow lay quietly. It was no ordinary gem, but a treasure that the Kanda family had created with painstaking effort, condensing the hopes and thoughts of countless people towards cherry blossoms. In Japanese culture, cherry blossoms represent life, beauty, and ephemeral brilliance. This profound emotion and faith had been absorbed and sealed within this jewel by the Kanda family through secret methods.

As the ritual progressed, the elders' chanting grew louder and more resonant, and the jewel's light shone even brighter. Finally, in a moment filled with mystery, the jewel transformed into a streak of light and merged into Sakura Kanda's body. She felt a warm and powerful force spreading throughout her, like spring rain nourishing parched earth, bringing forth abundant vitality.

The ritual was a success. Sakura Kanda slowly opened her eyes, feeling the changes that had occurred in her body. It was no longer just a body of flesh and blood, but was filled with some sacred power, radiating an awe-inspiring light.

From that moment on, Sakura Kanda's torso became the embodiment of the Sakura God, a newborn deity. And she herself became the Sakura God's exclusive shrine maiden, serving and worshipping a part of her own body. This incredible and bizarre situation was the very meaning of Shrine Maiden Sakura Kanda's existence.

One day, an ominous aura enveloped the Kanda family's domain, and traces of demons began to appear, threatening the peace of the land. Sakura Kanda knew that it was her turn to fulfill her mission.

She went to the shrine alone, facing the altar where the Sakura God was enshrined, chanting ancient prayers and kneeling devoutly. As the ritual progressed, her torso emitted an increasingly intense divine light, as if a sleeping deity was gradually awakening.

When the divine light reached its peak, Sakura Kanda felt a powerful force surge through her entire body. Her head and limbs began to separate from her torso, and from below her neck, several thin strands of condensed spiritual energy extended, like invisible bonds, touching her limbs. And her torso appeared in the once-empty shrine, returning to its divine position as the Sakura God.

Following this, her limbs, separated from her body, gradually shifted into battle mode. From the cross-section of her right thigh, a long whip covered in sharp bone spurs appeared, emitting a chilling aura. And her left leg, as if granted life, wielded a blade formed from spiritual energy, its edge so sharp it seemed capable of slicing through anything in the world.

Her hands each gripped charms inscribed with ancient runes. At the severed ends of her arms, two spirit orbs emitting a brilliant light were embedded, providing an inexhaustible source of energy for her battles.

Sakura Kanda's head floated in the air, her sharp gaze sweeping across the surrounding darkness. She could clearly feel the immense power her limbs possessed, a divinity bestowed upon them by the Sakura God. Through the spiritual threads, she could command her limbs without needing instructions from her torso, which had become a god. Her head was no longer superior to her torso but was subordinate to the head of the shrine maiden who served the god, and disrespect towards the divine body was forbidden.

A terrifying roar echoed from the darkness, and a gigantic demon with a grotesque face appeared before Sakura Kanda. It bared its fangs, emitting a foul aura as it tried to devour the shrine maiden before it.

Sakura Kanda felt no fear whatsoever. With a thought, the long whip of her right leg struck out like a venomous snake, its sharp thorns tearing through the air with a piercing whoosh, lashing fiercely against the demon's body and leaving streaks of blood. At the same time, the shrine maiden's left leg wielded the spirit blade, its sharp edge moving like a phantom through the demon's body, severing its limbs before it could even notice. The demon only realized it had lost its hands and feet when it tried to attack. The shrine maiden's hands were not idle either. The charms in her hands were activated by spiritual energy, transforming into streaks of golden light that shot towards the demon like sharp arrows, weakening its power with each hit.

Within her floating head, Sakura Kanda concentrated fully on directing the battle, transmitting commands to each limb through the spiritual threads, allowing them to coordinate perfectly like well-trained soldiers, driving the demon into a corner.

The demon let out a desperate roar, its attacks repeatedly thwarted by the shrine maiden's limbs' superb martial arts, while it itself continued to suffer severe damage. Finally, the demon let out a piteous shriek, transforming into clumps of foul flesh and blood, decaying on the sacred ground and gradually being purified.

The battle ended, and Sakura Kanda's limbs, guided by the spiritual threads, returned to her torso. Her legless feet knelt once more before the altar, and her independently floating hands clasped together, giving thanks for the divine power. As the divine body emitted a light of acceptance, the shrine maiden's head and limbs slowly reconnected with her torso, as if they had never been separated.

Sakura Kanda knew that this was only her first battle against a demon. As the shrine maiden of the Sakura God, she had to continue to protect this land, using the power bestowed by the god to drive away all evil, until the Kanda family regained its former glory.

As years passed, the shrine maiden who housed a god within her body neither aged nor grew, spending her days in a cycle of battles and rituals. Sakura Kanda often gazed at her reflection in the mirror, a young face that remained eternally eighteen. Time left no trace on her smooth skin; the passage of time on her seemed to have solidified like cooled cast iron. However, the mirror only reflected her outward appearance. Deep within her seemingly clear eyes were etched the bewilderment that had gradually accumulated through countless battles with demons and countless nights spent facing the Sakura God alone.

She had once naively thought that as time went on, she would better understand her form of existence and more deeply comprehend the essence of the Sakura God, but things rarely went as one wished. Every time her head and limbs separated from her torso, every time she slayed demons as a shrine maiden, it felt as if an invisible distance was drawn between her and the Sakura God. The more she relied on the Sakura God's power, the more she felt like a manipulated puppet, and her understanding of "god" became increasingly vague.

The Sakura God, a deity created by her family with all their might, was not a god with a concrete image or a clear will. It was not a personified god, but rather an aggregation of concepts, an interface for Sakura Kanda to exert her immense spiritual power. And her torso was the manifestation of this concept in the real world. Even as the exclusive shrine maiden, Sakura Kanda could not directly ask the Sakura God's thoughts or receive clear instructions from it, as one would speak with another person. All guidance was as obscure and difficult to understand as the starlight in the night sky, requiring her to pray devoutly, empty her mind, and only then, in a daze, could she catch a glimpse of an abstract revelation, and with the results of her arduous training, transform these vague feelings into actual power and guidance for her actions.

Whenever she served the Sakura God, the strange feeling always troubled her. Her head floated in the air, directing her hands to gently wipe the silent torso. It had once been a part of her, the foundation that sustained her limbs, the bridge that connected her to her various body parts, the place where her heart beat. She knew that even after becoming the divine body of the Sakura God, this torso still functioned as Sakura Kanda's torso. It would make sounds when it lacked food, feel cold when it was chilly, and even slightly gain weight when she occasionally indulged in sneaking sweets. These subtle connections were always genuinely felt by the shrine maiden beneath the god.

"Is this really my god?" This thought, like a persistent ghost, often surfaced in Sakura Kanda's mind. The torso that held all her private feelings and had experienced countless embarrassing moments was now bestowed with a sacred status, becoming great and unfamiliar. The enormous gap filled her with an indescribable sense of absurdity.

She quickly shook her head, trying to drive these blasphemous thoughts from her mind. This was a betrayal of her family's expectations and a great disrespect to the gods. She carefully cleaned the dirt from the skin of the divine body, wiping the orifices for bodily waste, keeping the divine body clean. Then, she carefully stood the body upright and placed it in the center of the altar.

At night, the bright moonlight poured into the shrine. The girl without a head and limbs, bathed in silver light, emitted a faint cherry-colored glow from her entire body, like a beautiful porcelain statue of a deity, sacred and fragile. Sakura Kanda directed her hands to gently caress the smooth skin. The warm touch from her fingertips brought her a strange sense of pleasure. She wondered if the Sakura God could also feel this pleasure?

In the silent moonlight, Sakura Kanda's kneeling legs slowly stood up. Her hands carefully lifted the divine body, placing it on her own legs, and then her head and hands, as if drawn by magnetism, returned to their respective positions. The moment her body was reassembled, a familiar sensation flowed through her entire being, and the connection between her head, hands, and feet was re-established through her torso. That feeling, both familiar and strangely odd, always made her tremble slightly.

Donning her solemn shrine maiden attire, Shrine Maiden Sakura Kanda danced gracefully in the moonlight, offering her dance to the Sakura God. Her movements were beautiful and dignified, each gesture filled with reverence for the deity. However, the lingering confusion and bewilderment in her heart, like a dark cloud drifting across a clear sky, never completely dissipated.

The days of walking alongside the Sakura God were still long. The familiar yet unfamiliar self had become a part of her life, even if she couldn't fully get used to it. Sometimes, when those "discordant" thoughts resurfaced, she couldn't help but reassure herself: weren't these thoughts allowed by the Sakura God? After all, her heart was also a part of the Sakura God's divine body, wasn't it?

Occasionally, Sakura Kanda would, with a hint of playfulness, throw her torso into the hot spring, letting the warm water envelop it, bringing a comfortable sensation. Perhaps this would also please the Sakura God? Or maybe, when she secretly savored those spicy and stimulating foods, although she would later hear rumbling sounds from within the divine body, perhaps that was the Sakura God and her heart feeling happy together?

She even gave herself a little "break," freeing herself from her role as a shrine maiden, and taking her divine body out as an ordinary girl, Sakura Kanda, to experience the life of a typical girl. The colorful streets, the dazzling array of goods, all sorts of drinks and desserts – they all made her feel a cherished sense of ease and joy.

However, as Sakura Kanda strolled through the bustling streets, a sudden surge of demonic energy brought her back to the reality she didn't want to face. "Seriously, can't you just let me enjoy the life of a normal girl for a little while?" she complained inwardly. She had just booked a reservation at a super famous dessert shop, and now she wouldn't have the chance to enjoy their most popular strawberry parfait. Despite her reluctance, the demon-slaying shrine maiden had to mobilize once again.

So Sakura Kanda reluctantly performed an emergency ritual. "I'm sorry, Lord Sakura God," the shrine maiden murmured in her heart. Her consciousness began to communicate with the divine presence within her, urging the Sakura God to activate its spiritual power.

The familiar sensation returned. The shrine maiden's head slowly began to separate from her neck, and the threads of her soul extended like invisible tentacles, preparing to connect with her limbs. Inside the legs of her jeans, spiritual energy transformed into weapons, equipping her legs and turning them into warriors. Each leg ripped through the jeans with its sharp edge, and the hems of the jeans, which she didn't have time to change, served as makeshift long socks and tabi, part of the shrine maiden's attire. "What a waste," the shrine maiden preparing for battle clicked her tongue. These were a trendy style she had secretly slipped out to buy last time. Her feet weren't clad in straw sandals blessed with divine power, but in cute girl's sandals, which were playful but lacked the seriousness and solemnity appropriate for facing demons. Her arms, preparing to fight, had also lost the protection of the shrine maiden's sleeves. Her head floated in the air, her face lacking the usual calm and serious expression of battle, her eyes bearing a dead-fish-like gaze, her empty expression seeming to say, "Why does it always have to be at this time?"

Sakura Kanda sighed, glancing back at the T-shirt worn by the Sakura God, which had a cute cartoon print. She had endured her embarrassment to buy it at a store filled with high school girls. The jeans, now shorts, still clung to the lower half of the divine body. No matter how she looked at it, where was the slightest hint of solemnity or holiness in this divine body?

Well, there was no help for it. This was what they called an emergency situation. The shrine maiden, who had hastily completed her preparations, looked around helplessly. The street, which had been filled with cheerful laughter just moments ago, now seemed to be shrouded in shadow. The shrine maiden raised her head high into the air, searching for any trace of demons.

Found them! They turned out to be a group of spider-like demonic spirits. Although not particularly strong, they were quick and agile, capable of capturing people's souls with their webs without being noticed, making them rather troublesome combat targets.

Sakura Kanda first concealed her body with a spell, then her head, through the threads of her soul, touched her armed limbs, transmitting battle commands. She knew she had to act quickly and decisively, to prevent too many people from being harmed and to eliminate the spider demons as soon as possible. The shrine maiden decided to disperse her body parts, forming a combat squad, to eliminate the demons separately.

This was a risky tactic. Each leg had a relatively independent fighting ability, but the hands required close combat guidance. What made it even more troublesome was that Sakura Kanda's head controlled her limbs through contact with the soul threads, unlike humans who directly feel and control their limbs through their torso. The simple commands, lacking continuity, and the time-delayed sensory feedback posed a severe challenge to her command, especially since she had to handle four different combat situations simultaneously. The shrine maiden's head flew back and forth busily, rapidly switching its awareness, trying its best to meet the command needs of the combat squad.

When the left leg's sharp blade sliced through the waist of the last spider demon, the rolling, round belly symbolized the arrival of victory. The battle shrine maiden was exhausted; she was practically schizophrenic. Her hands and feet had sustained injuries of varying degrees, especially her left hand, which had been captured by a demon and had to be taken back to the shrine for purification and recovery. The big toe of her right foot had also been carelessly cut off in the counterattack during the battle. After the battle, Sakura Kanda had finally found the toe and had her right hand pick it up.

"What a fierce battle!" The shrine maiden said, looking at her mushroom-like right big toe as she recalled the battle situation. Wasn't I supposed to be just a normal girl today? Why did I end up like this? My body parts are battered and broken, and there are even rebellious limbs. This is really absurd for a "normal girl."

Let's go back to the shrine. Sakura Kanda retrieved the silent Sakura God and reattached her limbs one by one. Her left hand was sealed with a charm and held by her right hand. The hems of her jeans on her legs were taken off and put into her backpack. She wondered if they could be sewn back on. The big toe of her right foot was placed in her jeans pocket. Sakura Kanda's head was still floating. She didn't want to go back yet, didn't want to continue pretending to be a girl on the divine body. She watched her headless body walking laboriously behind her, a strange feeling in her heart. What exactly is "myself"? The shrine maiden had no answer.

Suddenly, a bug flew over. Her right hand swung her left hand, trying to swat the bug away; and her right foot, missing its big toe, lost its balance due to the sudden movement, causing her entire body to fall.

Sakura Kanda watched her body lying on the ground. She felt the pain, but didn't recognize that she had fallen. The big toe of her right foot fell out of her pocket, its secretly painted cherry-colored nail facing Sakura, as if revealing a mocking smile.