Soul Cell River
Wen Shia stood outside the humble hut of the old sage, his resolve firm but his mind clouded with uncertainty. The sage, an ancient man with a long white beard and eyes that seemed to pierce through dimensions, studied Wen Shia silently. After a moment, he spoke in a voice that resonated with wisdom and warning.
"So, you wish to go to the Soul Cell River?" he asked, his tone carrying both curiosity and caution.
Wen Shia was taken aback by the sage's precise words. "Yes, I want to go there. Can you help me?" he asked, his voice filled with determination.
The sage laughed, a deep, throaty sound that seemed to echo in the air around them. "Yes, I can send you there. But you must understand the risks involved," he said, his face turning serious.
Wen Shia leaned in, listening intently.
"The Soul Cell River is not a place for the living. Your body will remain here, but your soul will travel to that realm. Once there, your actions will determine your fate. Remember, if your soul is harmed, your body here will also suffer. Worse, if the spirits there discover you are alive, they will destroy you. If you must reveal yourself, claim to be a god on an important mission. Speak only when necessary, and trust no one."
Wen Shia nodded, absorbing every word. "I understand," he said firmly.
The sage led him to a dimly lit room filled with strange symbols etched into the floor. Nails were embedded in the ground in a perfect circle, and a red thread was tied around Wen Shia's body as the sage began chanting ancient mantras. A red light emerged from the ground, enveloping Wen Shia's body. Slowly, his consciousness faded, and his body fell limp as if lifeless.
When Wen Shia opened his eyes, he found himself in a strange, eerie world. The sky was an ashen gray, and spirits roamed the land, their translucent forms shifting and shimmering. His own body felt different—his skin had turned a faint blue, and strange marks adorned his face. Around him, two distinct groups of spirits moved.
On one side were those dressed in black, their forms heavy with despair and pain. On the other side were spirits in white, their movements lighter, though their expressions still carried traces of sadness. Between them lay a deep, dark river that seemed to pulse with an unnatural energy.
Wen Shia observed quietly, trying to blend in. His clothing, however, was neither black nor white, making him stand out among the spirits. What should I do? he thought. His magic, which had always been his strength, seemed to falter in this realm.
He decided to change his appearance by reciting a mantra to alter the color of his clothes. Just as he began chanting softly, a guard appeared before him, tall and menacing, with eyes that glowed faintly red.
"What are you doing?" the guard demanded, his voice sharp and unyielding. "Who are you?"
Wen Shia's heart raced, but he quickly composed himself. Acting confused, he said, "I... I don't remember anything. Where am I? Am I dead?"
The guard narrowed his eyes, studying Wen Shia closely. "You claim to remember nothing?"
Wen Shia nodded, feigning ignorance.
The guard grunted. "Follow me. The Soul Keeper will decide your fate."
Wen Shia was led to a dark chamber, where a towering skeletal figure sat on a throne made of bones. The Soul Keeper's glowing eyes fixed on Wen Shia, its presence radiating authority and unease.
"You claim to be a lost soul," the Soul Keeper said, its voice like the rustling of dry leaves. "Let us see if that is true."
It summoned a glowing orb and commanded Wen Shia to place his hand on it. This is it, Wen Shia thought. If the orb reveals my true identity, I'm doomed. He silently chanted a mantra to mask his essence, praying it would work.
The orb flickered, showing an image of a man drowning, his soul slipping away into the abyss.
The Soul Keeper nodded. "You belong to the Grey Quarters, neither black nor white. There you will stay until your fate is decided."
The guard escorted Wen Shia to a shadowy expanse where spirits wandered aimlessly. These were the unfinished souls, those yet to be judged. Wen Shia blended in, his mind racing. How do I find Xiang in this endless sea of souls?
He closed his eyes, focusing on the faint bond he shared with her. A spark of warmth flickered within him, a sign that Xiang was here. Determined, he began his search, weaving through the spirits, all while maintaining his facade.
The Soul Cell River was vast, mysterious, and perilous, and Wen Shia knew that every step he took could bring him closer to Xiang—or to his own destruction.