111: Chapter 111 The Seven Stars, Ox-Head and Horse-Face

Finally, Meng Po picked up a wooden spoon and began to stir.

Her movements were very slow, seven circles clockwise, seven circles counter-clockwise, and another seven circles clockwise. Each rotation carried a certain ancient rhythm, like a ritual, like an incantation.

The soup in the cauldron began to bubble, gurgling as if countless souls were whispering within the liquid.

When those bubbles burst, they emitted a strange scent. That scent was neither fragrant nor foul, neither bitter nor sweet; it was simply a pure sense of 'emptiness.' It was as if something was being erased, cleared, and forgotten.

Meng Po stopped stirring and looked down at the soup in the cauldron.

The soup had turned transparent, as clear as spring water. But looking closely, one could see faint images flowing within. There was the life of a human, the lifetime of a beast, the kalpa of a god, and the thought of a ghost.

Those were the memories of countless departed souls, brewed into a soup.

Meng Po ladled out a bowl of soup and held it in her hand.

The bowl was a coarse ceramic one, dusty and grey, with a chip in the rim. It was a bowl used countless times, held by countless departed souls, and touched by countless lips.

She turned around and looked toward the other end of the Bridge of Helplessness.

There, a long queue was waiting.

Those were all the souls who had died since the opening of the Netherworld World. There were Mushroom People, Shadow Demons, Ice Crystals, Naga, humans, and Rakshasa. They were trapped on this side of the River of Oblivion because, without Meng Po and Meng Po Soup, they could not cross the bridge, enter the cycle, or be reincarnated.

They had been waiting for a long time.

Some had waited for hundreds of years, others for thousands.

Their figures had become transparent, their memories had begun to dissipate on their own, and their souls had started to wither. But they did not dare to cross the bridge, for crossing without Meng Po Soup meant they would enter reincarnation carrying the memories of their past lives—a punishment more terrifying than death.

Now, Meng Po had arrived.

At the very front of the line was a Mushroom Person. His cap was shriveled, his spores were all spent, and his body was as transparent as a thin mist. He had waited for eight hundred years, standing here since the day the River of Oblivion was born.

He raised his head and looked at Meng Po, his lips trembling as he made a raspy sound that was almost inaudible.

“Can I... forget?”

Meng Po looked at him, and in those eyes that had seen the end of reincarnation, a ripple of emotion finally appeared.

She handed the bowl over.

“Drink it.”

Her voice was raspy yet gentle.

“Forget your past life, and go toward your next.”

The Mushroom Person reached out with his transparent hands and took the bowl. He looked down at the transparent soup in the bowl and saw his own life reflected within. From the sprouting of spores, to the spreading of mycelium, to growing into a Mushroom Person, to laboring in the Mycelium Deep Forest, to dying in war.

Eight hundred years, gone in an instant.

He closed his eyes and brought the bowl to his lips.

The moment the soup entered his mouth, his body suddenly stiffened.

The colors on his body began to change. From transparent to milky white, from milky white to grey, from grey to black, and finally transforming into countless tiny points of light that drifted into the air.

Those points of light drifted toward the other side of the Bridge of Helplessness, toward the starting point of reincarnation.

The figure of the Mushroom Person vanished.

He had forgotten.

Forgotten who he was, forgotten where he came from, and forgotten everything he had experienced.

He would go toward his next life as a blank sheet of paper.

Meng Po watched the drifting points of light and remained silent for a second.

Then she turned back to the large cauldron and ladled out another bowl of soup.

She handed it to the next departed soul.

“Drink it.”

“Forget your past life, and go toward your next.”

One after another.

Bowl after bowl.

Meng Po's movements remained consistent—neither fast nor slow, neither rushed nor sluggish. Her voice was always gentle, and her gaze was always calm.

But with every bowl of soup she handed out, her aura weakened by a fraction. It wasn't due to exhaustion, but because a portion of those souls' memories would remain with her. She bore the weight of too many past lives, too many regrets, and too many obsessions.

That was her destiny.

The one who forgets for all living beings must remember everything themselves.

Su Bai stood at the world core, looking at Meng Po's hunched back, and remained silent for a long time.

He thought of a poem.

“Upon the Bridge of Helplessness, one sighs 'helplessness',”

“Right and wrong do not cross the River of Oblivion.”

“Before the Three-Life Stone, there is no right or wrong,”

“By the Wangxiang Platform, one meets Meng Po.”

He recited these four lines of poetry softly, his voice as light as the wind over the River of Oblivion.

But Meng Po heard him.

She stopped her movements, raised her head, and looked toward the direction of the world core.

In those eyes that had seen the end of reincarnation, a hint of a smile appeared for the first time.

“My Lord has such great talent,” she said softly.

She lowered her head and continued to ladle soup.

“Drink it.”

“Forget your past life, and go toward your next.”

Su Bai withdrew his gaze, his consciousness falling back into the world core.

The moment Meng Po began her work, he felt a change in the circular phantom image deep within the world core.

The condensation speed of the Six Paths of Reincarnation was accelerating.

It wasn't just a slight increase, but a doubling of the speed.

[Six Paths of Reincarnation (Prototype) Condensation Progress: 65%→80%→90%→95%]

[Meng Po's 'Six Paths Affinity' skill has taken effect, condensation speed increased by 100%]

[Estimated completion time: Three days→One day]

One day.

Tomorrow, the Six Paths of Reincarnation will formally descend upon the Netherworld World.

The corners of Su Bai's mouth curled up slightly. Just as he was about to withdraw his consciousness, he suddenly sensed a new change within the Underworld Space.

It was at the entrance to the Tongue-Pulling Hell.

Ox-Head and Horse-Face were standing there, their bodies trembling.

It wasn't fear or pain, but something more fundamental being reshaped.

On Ox-Head's Steel Fork, those originally dim runes suddenly lit up. A blood-red light spread from the tips of the pitchfork, crawling up the handle to Ox-Head's arms, his shoulders, and his horns.

Horse-Face's chains were also glowing. Densely packed runes appeared on the pitch-black chains; these were not any known script, but the script of Hell, the script of punishment, and the script of escorting.

Their auras were climbing.

Mid-stage Sixth-Order.

High-stage Sixth-Order.

Peak Sixth-Order.

[Ox-Head Rank Upgrade: Six-Star→Seven-Star!]

[Horse-Face Rank Upgrade: Six-Star→Seven-Star!]

[Ox-Head New Skill: At the Bridge of Helplessness (Passive)]

[Horse-Face New Skill: Meng Po's Guidance (Passive)]

[At the Bridge of Helplessness (Ox-Head Passive): When Ox-Head fights within the range of the Bridge of Helplessness, all attributes are increased by 100%. Additionally, Ox-Head can directly escort any soul to the foot of the Bridge of Helplessness, ignoring any spatial locks or physical barriers. The escort distance is extended to a hundred miles.]

[Meng Po's Guidance (Horse-Face Passive): Horse-Face can establish a mental link with Meng Po, sensing her location and status at any time. During the process of escorting souls, Horse-Face can borrow Meng Po's 'Six Paths Affinity' power to suppress any soul attempting to resist. The suppression effect is directly proportional to Meng Po's rank.]

Su Bai looked at those two lines of prompts, a flash of realization crossing his eyes.