Chapter 689

Chapter 689: The Rain Tosses the Blue Mountains

It started to rain.

Lolan Hill sat by the windowsill, her hands resting on the table, her chin supported by her arms, watching the raindrops fall from the sky. Sparse droplets landed on the stone slabs, splashing up little flowers of water.

The sky outside was not particularly bright, but neither was it too dark. Occasionally, some raindrops were blown into the room by the wind, landing on the lacquered surface of the table and on the exposed arm of the young lady, bringing a refreshing touch.

The sound of flowing water came from the courtyard below the attic. Clear rainwater trickled over the stone slabs, converging into the drainage ditches on both sides of the courtyard, then carrying fallen leaves with a splash towards the exit at the foot of the wall.

Today, Lolan Hill did not practice or read books. It wasn’t because she was tired recently, nor was it out of boredom; she simply felt like taking a rest.

Her fair and slender fingers traced the windowsill, giving her a cool, damp sensation. The dewdrops on the windowsill gathered under her fingers, merging into a larger droplet, then forming an irregular small patch of water.

Ordinary things, yet a faint joy passed through her heart. She turned her head to rest against her arm, watching as several dewdrops collided and merged together.

Water droplets gathered at her fingertips, growing larger before rolling off the windowsill and falling onto the stone slabs below in the courtyard. They mingled with many other droplets, creating tiny puddles, which then mixed with the clear rainwater and flowed away.

She didn’t think about anything in particular; just listening to the sound of the rainwater flowing brought a sense of calm.

In fact, for many ordinary people, life doesn’t have such dramatic ups and downs; it’s more about these genuine and mundane daily routines.

Everyone slowly spent this familiar time, occasionally discovering one or two sparkling stones by the roadside, which was also a small pleasure in life.

The tiles on the eaves still echoed with the sound of dripping rain, then flowed down along the grooves, forming small, rhythmic droplets that fell into the fresh rain breeze.

Inside the room of the attic, Lolan Hill leaned against the table, entering a quiet nap. Occasionally, one or two droplets landed on her snow-white hand, then slid down through her fingers, creating a tiny bridge between the table and her fingertips, cool and moist.

On the wooden rack in the room, two birds huddled together, their feet tucked into their feathers, quietly resting. They only moved their beaks occasionally, blinking a few times, as if dreaming of something delicious.

——————–

After choosing the sequence for cultivation, Lolan Hill gradually settled into a stable routine. During weekdays, she attended classes according to the arrangement within her faction. After class, she would practice with a few familiar companions in the shady open area, occasionally listening to gossip and sharing recent amusing stories about the disciples.

To many people, the Necromancer Sequence was considered a sequence that did not do good deeds.

Past cultivators enjoyed grave-robbing and manipulating corpses to quickly become powerful, which often made ordinary people uneasy.

However, after recent cultivation, the young lady began to see that this sequence wasn’t entirely negative.

When judging whether something is alive, one must consider if it can die.

Stones do not die, so they cannot be called life.

Then what is life? It depends on the criteria for death.

Is simply having a living body enough to be considered life? Perhaps not. For some sentient beings, their spirit must also be alive.

The concept of spiritual death may seem unfamiliar, but many have heard the phrase, “Nothing is sadder than a heart that has died.”

Human spirits are not infinitely resilient; they can be injured by suppression, humiliation, oppression, false accusations, despair, and more.

When the wounds are shallow, the spirit can heal over time, forget, and return to its original state.

But when the wounds are deep and touch the core, they might leave shadows or become lifelong unhealed pain.

And when these wounds accumulate endlessly without release, eventually overwhelming everything, it leads to a collapse, pushing one toward a dark end. At this point, it could be termed as spiritual death.

In contrast to the Angel Sequence, which symbolizes stability, protection, and healing, the Necromancer Sequence explores the process of decay, the formation of spiritual trauma, and the final destination and end of life.

Reanimating corpses is merely a small part of this sequence, and the development of this branch has overshadowed the other aspects.

The first step in solving problems is recognizing their existence; otherwise, nothing can be done about them.

As Lolan Hill’s understanding and cultivation of the Necromancer Sequence deepened, she gradually discovered a small secret about herself.

Her soul was not quite like that of an ordinary person. One day upon waking up, the young lady sat at the bedside pondering this.

She looked at her hair, the ends of which seemed to have a faint silver hue, scattering across her white nightgown.

Ordinary souls are like fragile mist. If hit by intense Extraordinary power, they disperse, leading to amnesia or death.

Extraordinary beings are much tougher, akin to sponges, with some resilience and tight connections, able to withstand certain damage.

But her soul was like clear jelly or transparent wind, freely connected and scattered, then reassembled, seemingly unaffected by impact.

Spreading her palm over the soft quilt, Lolan Hill looked at her hand. Semi-transparent light particles floated in her palm, gathering like mist to form a transparent, gradient mini-wave, then dissipating like a breeze. These semi-transparent particles then gathered again.

The transparent gem formed a radiant light, refracting the sunlight and casting a colorful spectrum onto the quilt.

This is the power of the Necromancer Sequence, truly magical, as if an extension of the soul, revealing another new world.

Lolan Hill slowly comprehended the magic power in her palm; it seemed to blend some traits of her soul, differing from other sequences’ magic.

With a gentle flick of her fingers, these translucent mist particles swayed and transformed into a scroll ahead, depicting a night filled with fireworks. It was the winter festival of Emanas, where she sat with familiar friends, admiring the moon and stars.

Letis, Bumansa, Alena, Nia, Ye Ling, Vimya, and Lily, all familiar figures stood by her side, chatting and laughing, sharing recent amusing and joyful events.

She missed those people, Lolan Hill thought quietly.

Then the scene changed again, showing a sleeping girl within the scroll.

She had long hair, crimson like flames, spilling over her sides and collarbone. Upon opening her eyes, a look of innocence and dependence appeared in them.

Where did Keti go? The young lady recalled the scenery in her memory, but up until the parts she could remember, Keti seemed still asleep in the academy.

There was no need to worry about that silly girl; she was a sequence 9 Fire Witch, much stronger than herself.

Shaking her head to invigorate herself, her hair swayed as well. Lolan Hill got off the bed, opened the nearby wardrobe, and began searching for clothes to wear today.

Since she had advanced to the Necromancer Sequence level 3, she should inquire about further cultivation texts.

Sitting at the dressing table, Lolan Hill looked at the gleaming copper mirror, gathered her long hair from behind, tied it with a light blue ribbon given by Reifelika, forming a simple bow, then let her hair fall gracefully around her waist.

Today, she wore a dark blue-black dress. The main body was a serene black, while the cuffs, hem, and belt were a soothing light blue.

Soft Blue: Derived from ‘rou lan’ and ‘ruo lan’, the stems and leaves of the Polygonum tinctorium plant used as dyeing material, yielding “rou lan” after soaking and rubbing.

(Mountains colored like rou lan in the drizzle — Huang Tingjian, “Five Poems on Fast Pavilion”)

Within the Xiangyu Sect, there were disciples who wore Western-style dresses, not unusual, but few wore them so fittingly as Lolan Hill. This dress was also made by her during her free time.

Thanks to Reifelika’s teachings, Lolan Hill learned how to dye fabrics, allowing her to create clothes that better suited her preferences.

Standing up and adjusting her posture, she checked herself in the mirror once more before descending the stairs.

Today, she planned to find Uncle Lianyin to inquire about further texts and matters.

(The End of Chapter)