Song Mingzhen didn¡¯t have time to worry about why his sword was ignoring him.
He¡¯d already called attention to himself, achieving his intended purpose of drawing his enemies¡¯ gaze away from Ning Feiyun¡ª but now, if he was paralyzed and confused by this mishap, then there was a good chance he¡¯d end up on the unfortunate end of a crude weapon.
So, he simply drew his sword manually instead, swiftly bringing it up to block the first incoming blow.
Ever since he¡¯d woken from his long slumber, he¡¯d been practicing both sparring and sword taolu quite rigorously. He¡¯d feared that his skills may have deteriorated during his recovery, and he hadn¡¯t been wrong¡ª over the past few months, it had been a bit of a struggle to regain his ability to wield a sword, and at first he¡¯d even found himself stumbling through basic forms, feeling as if he¡¯d had to learn them all from the ground up.
It was a good thing he¡¯d put in all that practice. Though it had been simple enough to restore his spiritual capabilities, his skill as a swordsman was undoubtedly not as high as it had been before¡ª though now, it was still quite good. With Ning Feiyun wounded and struggling to even stand, the rogue cultivators turned their attention to Song Mingzhen, and he found himself facing all six at once. Had he not practiced so hard, he knew he would have a much more difficult time defending against this relentless assault.
He maintained his calm with some difficulty, whirling back and forth in a flurry of white fur and gold silks as he dodged the rogue cultivators¡¯ attacks¡ª blocking their weapons¡¯ strikes with Chengxiao¡¯s blade and absorbing spiritual attacks with a seal in his off-hand. Step by step, bit by bit, he allowed himself to be pushed back up the valley. Though he could likely best them quickly with spiritual attacks, he still held back¡ª perhaps this trading of blows could answer some of his questions.
They were dressed the same and carried themselves similarly to the group that had attacked Anfeng City, so naturally Song Mingzhen had assumed they were the same individuals. However, these people were really quite skilled, whereas last time, they hadn¡¯t even been able to hold their own against him. Whether they had concealed their true ability level back then, or whether they were different individuals entirely was unclear. Either case was worrisome in its own right¡ª if the first, that meant that all of this was a far more detailed, intricate plot than he¡¯d thought. If the latter, then their enemies had greater numbers. Of course, there was a third explanation that was even more grim¡ª that they¡¯d somehow improved their cultivation by leaps and bounds over the past few months.
Song Mingzhen hoped that wasn¡¯t the case¡ª for so much improvement to occur, that meant these evildoers would have gained access to some prime place for cultivation, or otherwise a powerful spiritual artifact or elixir. With something like that, they¡¯d have already gotten a foothold, and it wouldn¡¯t be nearly so easy for the great clans to topple them again.
He grit his teeth, his gaze sharp as he parried one of the sword-wielding rogue cultivators¡¯ blows. Those were all questions that could be answered once they¡¯d been defeated and apprehended. Right now, he needed to focus on both defending himself against them and holding their attention so that Ning Feiyun could recover. The leader of the group was a tall man who wielded a simple-looking spear with a jade tassel on the end. Three of the others were swordsmen, one carried a halberd, and the last commanded a length of crimson silk that wound through the skirmish, constantly threatening to tangle up Song Mingzhen¡¯s legs or constrict his throat and chest.
It wasn¡¯t only the skill of his opponents that made this fight somewhat difficult¡ª it was also the variety of weapons they wielded, which made Song Mingzhen have to constantly adjust his own stances and defensive tactics, as well as their technique.
Rogue cultivators, though disadvantaged in almost every way, had one trait that could make them very difficult to deal with¡ª their unpredictability. When fighting one trained by the orthodox clans, there was some ability to guess their next moves, if one was familiar with the specific sword-styles that they specialized in. There would be a pattern to their movements¡ª though, of course, those like Song Mingzhen who had mastered all five of his clan¡¯s styles would be able to mix and match techniques and throw off his opponents in that way.
It was different, however, when fighting or sparring with someone who hadn¡¯t been properly taught. To Song Mingzhen and his peers, sword combat was as much of an art as it was a martial skill, but to a rogue cultivator, it was nothing but a means to survival. Their existences yielded constant danger, and their combat styles reflected that¡ª instead of following a set form, their strikes, blocks, and parries were far more haphazard, less organized. Unless already familiar with an individual¡¯s own fighting style, it was anyone¡¯s guess what move would come next in a sequence.
As one of Ruijian Pavilion¡¯s sword cultivators, Song Mingzhen¡¯s strikes were precise, his movements measured, each blow making dialogue and debate with his opponents. While some of the six seemed to have some formal training, especially the leader of the group, the others were far less genteel about it¡ª there was no interest in debate, only in destruction. Several times, he found himself staggered under a sudden volley of blows, stepping back several times in quick succession only to barely avoid being wrapped up in a cocoon by that red silk.
It wasn¡¯t only that¡ª not only were their movements unconventional and difficult to predict, but this group was also very well-coordinated. Any time Song Mingzhen fended off one attack, there was another to take its place, and time and time again he found himself facing two or three at once¡ª constantly having to defend himself, while his enemies passed him from one to the next, never exhausting their strength. This wasn¡¯t too surprising, of course. For their skills to be this high, they must be remnants of the original Nameless cultivators who had somehow escaped capture and destruction¡ª of course, since they¡¯d spent these past five years in constant peril, they would have developed a cohesive strategy between them, but Song Mingzhen couldn¡¯t help but feel a little impressed at how easily the six moved as one.
Of course, that was greatly overshadowed by the rising anxiety within him. Each time he was turned around, each time he stumbled, each time he barely managed to avoid a blade that passed close enough to glance over the golden shield of spiritual qi that he¡¯d summoned over his body, he felt more wound up, more on edge. The precise strikes and parries of his swordsmanship faltered, and a cold sweat clung to his brow.
He could hear the pounding of his heart in his chest, the rush of blood in his ears, and the tightness of his breathing made him check to see if that cursed red silk had managed to wrap itself around him.
In that same moment, he saw a flash of crimson and suddenly lost all momentum in his sword-arm. The length of silk had caught him, but not in the way he¡¯d expected¡ª it had wound itself tightly around Chengxiao¡¯s blade and his wrist, jerking his body sharply to one side.
A jolt of anxiety rushed through him as he narrowly avoided a blow from the sharp edge of a halberd, the sudden strain in his arm sending lightning-bolts of pain down from his wrist into his shoulder.
Then, at long last, the obstinately-quiet Chengxiao sword decided it was finally time to wake up.
A sun-bright golden glow ignited along the edges of the blade, then flashed brightly, reversing the gathering twilight and flooding the valley with golden light. The strain on Song Mingzhen¡¯s arm was abruptly released as the red silk was torn in two, its owner hissing sharply and recalling it to wind about his arm.
A spiritual tool like that would invariably be able to repair itself, but Song Mingzhen wasn¡¯t too worried¡ª though he remained somewhat agitated, the restored spiritual resonance between himself and his weapon set him at ease. He swung the blade, taking advantage of his opponents¡¯ surprise and releasing a shockwave of golden light that knocked them back a few chi.
Then, he kicked off the ground, leaping into the air and putting distance between himself and the attackers.
Where was Ning Feiyun? He should have had time to recover¡ª were his wounds actually more serious than they¡¯d looked?
His gaze darted back and forth, but the valley was thick with evergreen trees and the sun had vanished behind the mountains. Before he could look too closely, he quickly dropped to the ground to avoid a pair of crimson and violet sword glares that sliced through the air toward him. The rogue cultivators had already recovered their footing.
He landed lightly on the ground, and with a flash, he renewed the shield over his body. If Ning Feiyun wasn¡¯t coming to help him, then he needed to finish this quickly and apprehend them. Though the link between himself and the Chengxiao sword had been restored, he still restrained himself, holding back both his own power and his sword¡¯s. It would have been easier to slay these evil cultivators outright, but they needed to be captured alive.
How deeply intertwined were the events in Anfeng City and the recent assassination and theft in Yinshan? What else were they plotting?
If he accidentally killed them before they could be interrogated, then he might never find out.
He rushed forward, hoping to catch them off guard and take down at least one or two, and as he guarded himself with his sword, he prepared a spiritual blast in his off-hand. It was the same technique he¡¯d used to knock the attackers in Anfeng City unconscious¡ª a precise burst of spiritual power that would strike several key points along his opponent¡¯s meridians, briefly disrupting their spiritual flow without causing any lasting harm. With the way that they coordinated with one another, just taking down one or two should make this significantly easier.
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A few things happened, then, in quick succession.
First, just before he struck out at one of the swordsmen, the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of a sharp blade bearing down on him. He jolted off-course, but the halberd-wielder¡¯s strike was imbued with spiritual power. From the edge of the blade came a bright red light that sliced through the air, striking Song Mingzhen in the shoulder. There was a sound like the ringing of bells and the shattering of glass, and the shield he¡¯d summoned around himself was broken¡ª but it had not absorbed the entirety of that blow.
That blade formed of crimson light sliced into his shoulder, cutting through white cloak and golden silk and tearing a wound into his flesh. Fresh blood immediately bubbled forth, turning his clothes dark around the wound.
Song Mingzhen was already agitated. Though he¡¯d calmed a bit after regaining command of his sword, his heart had yet to stop racing¡ª now, the rush of blood in his ears rose to a fever-pitch as the sudden pain caught him by surprise. Before he fully understood what was happening, he was overcome by a burst of anger. His eyes flashed, reflecting the red glow of the halberd-blade, and he reacted as if on instinct. His spiritual blast, meant to knock out the swordsman in front of him, was quickly redirected as he spun about to face the one that had wounded him.
When his palm landed in the center of the halberd-wielder¡¯s chest, there was a brief moment of utter silence and stillness, and then there was a concussive blast. The man flew backward rapidly, a red mist filling the air as wounds were torn into his body from the inside out, blood spouting from his lips as his eyes rolled back in his head.
He landed in a snowdrift. Within the space of a breath, the snow was already soaked dark red.
The one wielding the red silk, who had lingered a distance behind the others while waiting for the spiritual weapon to recover, immediately rushed to the fallen man¡¯s side and knelt down to feel his pulse.
¡°Dead!¡± she cried out, her voice cracking slightly. It was a young woman¡¯s voice¡ª though in the moment, that hardly stirred up more than a fragment of surprise.
In the moment Song Mingzhen¡¯s blow had landed, that burst of rage and terror had reached a fever-pitch. The precision of his palm-strike was thrown off, and instead of targeting specific points and suppressing the man¡¯s spiritual flow, that burst of powerful, white-hot spiritual qi had instead run rampant through his body, tearing him apart from the inside out¡ª
He had died instantly.
Both sides of the fight were momentarily stunned. Up until now, even though they¡¯d been fighting, there hadn¡¯t been any killing intent between them¡ª it seemed both parties had wanted to take the other alive. Now, though, it was as though storm clouds had gathered overhead, thunder rumbling and lightning crackling.
Song Mingzhen hadn¡¯t meant to kill¡ª but in that single moment, he¡¯d been overcome by some strange, dark urge and instinct. He¡¯d hated them bitterly, and the one who had just wounded him most of all¡ª these were the same people whose actions had tormented him ever since he woke up. That first attack was surely the cause of his nightmares, his current instability, the recent lapses in his cultivation¡ª probably even the reason that the Chengxiao sword had refused to respond to him at the beginning of this fight.
Not all of them need to be left alive.
When he set out on this mission, he¡¯d intended to apprehend the criminals, to have them sealed away in the mountain prison, to leave the Qin clan to enact their own justice. He¡¯d never even considered killing them himself.
Now, though, he realized¡ª wouldn¡¯t it make more sense that way?
In Anfeng City, after he¡¯d knocked the attackers unconscious, they¡¯d all disappeared before they could be apprehended. So wouldn¡¯t it be better to kill them now, and take the last one standing back to Baidong Mountain as a prisoner? After all, there was no need to interrogate all of them.
Just the leader would do.
Besides¡ Ning Feiyun had been wounded, and since he hadn¡¯t come to assist yet, he must be in bad shape. They were rogue cultivators, and they¡¯d been involved in the assassination of a clan leader¡ª more than likely, their fate would be execution anyway.
For Song Mingzhen to kill them now¡ maybe it would even be merciful.
Once this was all taken care of, he could go home. He could try to rediscover his place in this life and restore his shattered memories without the threat of the Nameless remnants hanging over his head.
His head was spinning, his breath coming quick and short, and within his eyes was a dull crimson haze. He tasted blood in his mouth, and from within his dantian he could feel his spiritual power surging and retreating in irregular intervals, straining against the boundaries of his meridians.
Right now, his cultivation wasn¡¯t stable. Instead, it felt like an old wound had been torn open anew.
His grip on Chengxiao¡¯s hilt faltered, and the golden light on the edge of the blade flickered with a slight deep-red hue before retreating entirely. The connection between Song Mingzhen and his sword had lapsed once more¡ª but right now, that didn¡¯t matter.
What mattered was putting an end to this, one way or another.
His breath formed puffs of smoke in the cold air. The battle had taken a dark turn¡ª just as Song Mingzhen¡¯s intent had changed, so had his opponents. They weren¡¯t simply fighting for their freedom now, they were fighting for their lives¡ª and for revenge on their fallen comrade.
All five of them attacked at once. This time, though Song Mingzhen wasn¡¯t hesitating, nor was he showing mercy or caring for their lives.
He plunged his sword into the chest of one of them, heedless of the blade that glanced across his cheek as he did so. The smell of fresh blood in his nostrils grew even stronger as he pulled his blade back, the body hitting the snow with a dull thud. He spun around to clash swords with one of the others. What had been a test of skill before had now turned dire, and the air was thick with the scent of blood and the prickling, nauseating pressure of killing intent.
The red silk, now repaired, lashed out and wrapped around Song Mingzhen¡¯s shoulders, pinning his arms to his sides. His eyes flashed again and he grit his teeth.
Deep within his lower dantian, there was a bright flash of red, like a silent furnace being kindled back to life. Icy warmth spread rapidly through Song Mingzhen¡¯s body, and that same odd red light suddenly surrounded his being, then condensed¡ª and then, as if on instinct, cut outward like a pair of blades that sliced through the red silk just as efficiently as Chengxiao had before, freeing him just in time to avoid the point of the spear wielded by the group¡¯s leader.
Those deadly shards of spiritual light weren¡¯t satisfied with simply cutting through the red silk, but continued their flight¡ª one after the other, they pierced through the chest and abdomen of the red silk¡¯s wielder, bursting out from her back before plunging, painlessly, to be absorbed back into Song Mingzhen¡¯s dantian.
The spear-wielding leader of the rogue cultivators was taken aback, all color drained from the little part of his face that was visible above his mask. ¡°You¡ how did you¡ª¡±
Song Mingzhen didn¡¯t give him a chance to respond before pressing the attack.
Truth be told, he also didn¡¯t know what had happened, or how¡ª this power was one he didn¡¯t even remember possessing. It almost seemed like those crimson shards were some form of vital weapon, but only once the jindan had been formed would a cultivator be able to summon such a weapon, and Song Mingzhen had only reached Zhuji-stage, so it was not possible.
More importantly, the remaining three rogue cultivators seemed thoroughly startled by that strange attack, and Song Mingzhen wasn¡¯t about to let that advantage go.
Within moments, five of the rogue cultivators were on the ground, either dead or severely wounded, and only one remained¡ª the spear-wielding leader, whose skills were noticeably higher than the others. He had tried his best to defend the two remaining swordsmen, but Song Mingzhen had already decided that it was unnecessary to keep them alive. One had gone down with a spiritual blast, and the throat of the other had become acquainted with Chengxiao¡¯s blade¡ª the sword¡¯s golden light was still absent, having gone dormant once more and remaining that way. Song Mingzhen, however, hardly cared. The sword was just as useful in his hands as an ordinary blade as it was as a spiritual weapon.
It was no easy matter to fight spear with sword. Song Mingzhen¡¯s opponent had a much larger reach, and though Song Mingzhen¡¯s spiritual power was greater, it was also unstable right now¡ª and more so the longer this fight stretched on. Meanwhile, the leader of the rogue cultivators had good skills, and the way he wielded his spear was just as precise and powerful as Ruijian Pavilion¡¯s swordsmanship. In fact, there was something very familiar about it¡ª but Song Mingzhen couldn¡¯t quite place where he¡¯d seen it. His spiritual ability was also not low, and he was able to absorb one of Song Mingzhen¡¯s spiritual blasts and remain standing.
The pair continued to circle the valley, fighting fiercely with both their weapons and their spiritual powers. They traded blows as they whirled and spun through the trees and back and forth across the frozen river. Each of them had suffered no small number of minor wounds, and they were both becoming exhausted. After unleashing those crimson shards from his own body, Song Mingzhen¡¯s power felt even more unstable and uncertain than before, and there was something off about every spiritual blast he unleashed, every time he tried to summon a shield over his body. Meanwhile, the leader of the rogue cultivators had already seen his comrades fall, their blood staining the snow-covered landscape, so of course he was also quite disturbed¡ª even if the fire of vengeance drove him to continue fighting, the pallor of his face was growing, and the hoarseness of his breath was increasing.
Eventually, though, his fall was inevitable¡ª Song Mingzhen¡¯s boundary was higher than his, and though the young man¡¯s power was unstable, there were only so many times that the rogue cultivator could withstand his spiritual attacks.
Song Mingzhen unleashed one final, dull blow that flung his opponent backward, the spear flying from his hand as he crashed into the trunk of a sturdy tree, shaking loose a great pile of snow from the branches above that fell down onto his head and shoulders. The man collapsed, and no effort to push himself up again could succeed. Song Mingzhen, though, was half in a daze, his head spinning and his heart pounding, the energy within him chaotic and his emotions an indiscernible whirlwind¡ª his own killing intent had yet to dissipate, and he swung Chengxiao forward, as if to deal a fatal blow despite his former resolve to keep this person alive¡ª
There was a sharp ¡°clang!¡± of metal that resounded through the valley, echoing off the stones and shaking snow from the branches of the pines.
¡°Song-ge, stop!¡±
The voice was Ning Feiyun¡¯s. It was sharp and breathless, with a wavering of weakness rather unusual for that person¡ª but it was enough to momentarily pierce through the haze that had descended over Song Mingzhen¡¯s senses, drawing him out of his frenzied state.
He blinked, his eyes bloodshot, his own breath shaky, and he realized that the taste of blood in his mouth had grown even stronger than before. Ning Feiyun had blocked his final blow, his own spear trembling a bit¡ª the other young man was doubled over, and his face was pale, and there was a faint trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. Indeed, he seemed to be having a difficult time standing¡ª that surprise attack at the beginning must have hit some vital point in his body.
Once he saw that Song Mingzhen¡¯s attack had halted and he¡¯d been pulled from the haze of battle, Ning Feiyun lowered his spear. He half-straightened up and, with some effort, limped over to the fallen rogue cultivator, who was slumped against the tree in a daze. With his hands shaking a bit, Ning Feiyun reached out and pulled the mask down to reveal their attacker¡¯s features.
He sucked in a breath, and stumbled backwards a step. Then, slowly, he turned to face Song Mingzhen once more. The dark circles under his eyes seemed to have grown deeper.
¡°This man¡ I know him.¡±
A Tangled Web
As Ning Feiyun spoke those words, a dark cloud seemed to settle around him. He swayed a bit, as though he were standing on the edge of a precipice, gazing down into a pit of despair that threatened to swallow him up.
His wound had begun to close and he wasn¡¯t bleeding as badly as before, but he still looked just as pale as he had when Song Mingzhen came upon him after the ambush. The emotions that always simmered beneath the paper-thin mask of his expression had broken through entirely to flood his features, his brows knitted and his gaze half-vacant, half-fixed on the man lying slumped over against a tree. It was as though the hope he¡¯d been clinging to had evaporated¡ª even though he himself may not have played a role in the recent events, it turned out he wasn¡¯t entirely without connection to them after all.
¡°His name is Ning Zhifeng. Before I became the commander of the mountain patrols, he was my direct superior. He is the one who taught me to navigate the mountain paths, all of the secret ways and hidden mechanisms¡¡± Ning Feiyun muttered, reaching to feel the unconscious Ning Zhifeng¡¯s pulse as he spoke. His words, spoken in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper, seemed to slur together a bit. There was the faintest note of disbelief in his tone, as though he still couldn¡¯t quite believe that all of this was true.
Song Mingzhen still felt a dazed and unsettled himself. He was still reeling a bit from the odd lapse in his cultivation, and from the violent impulses that had consumed him during the battle, leaving the valley soaked in blood. The copper taste had begun to fade from his mouth, but the slight burning sensation within his dantian still remained. Now that the rush of battle was fading, he found his legs a little shaky too, and feared that if he tried to take a single step forward he might end up falling over.
¡°But¡ didn¡¯t you tell me that the members of the mountain patrol were already accounted for?¡± he said. His voice was hoarse¡ª and the words that left his lips hardly felt like his own, but as though a stranger was speaking with his own tongue. ¡°How could such a person¡¯s disappearance be overlooked?¡±
After all, since Ning Feiyun was the current commander, then this Ning Zhifeng must have already retired¡ª despite that, as someone who was surely quite strong, and who had held considerable authority and capability, wouldn¡¯t he also have been questioned like everyone else? From what Song Mingzhen had heard, the investigations had been quite thorough.
Ning Feiyun bit his lip, then glanced up. ¡°That¡¯s because¡ He has already been dead for seven years.¡±
Song Mingzhen blinked, not having expected this answer. ¡°Dead?¡±
¡°That is¡ we all thought as much. During the war, not long after the attack on Baidong Mountain, a patrol he was leading was ambushed by a group of evil cultivators that had taken up hiding in the mountains. By the time reinforcements arrived, the enemies had been wiped out, but the commander had also fallen in battle. At the time, he had already reached late Zhuji stage, and though there was no corpse, his spiritual weapon was found broken on the ground and the nearby area showed signs of a spiritual detonation.¡±
Beginning at Zhuji stage, cultivators would became capable of storing ever-greater amounts of spiritual qi within their bodies. When they were killed, unless measures had been taken to mitigate or absorb it, that stored energy would be released into their surroundings as a spiritual detonation. If the one killed was only early Zhuji stage, this wouldn¡¯t cause too much damage¡ª but if they had reached higher levels, and especially if they¡¯d managed to cultivate a jindan, both immediate and long-term effects could be quite devastating.
The released energy from such a detonation would sink into the surrounding environment. In the best outcome, it would nourish the land, creating a small pocket rich with spiritual qi. Rogue cultivators would often take advantages of these places to increase their own power, since they were not under the direct jurisdiction of the great clans. More frequently, though, since such an event was the result of a violent death, it would not be so peaceful. It would create an area of unstable, volatile energy¡ª and these places would nurture monsters and demons that would then spring forth to plague the mortal world.
Song Mingzhen had heard that, during the war with the Nameless and its aftermath, monster activity had increased sharply. The cultivation world had not only needed to hunt down the rest of the heretics, but they¡¯d also needed to shield the mortal world from being attacked by demonic beasts. By now, most of these places had been stabilized. It was fortunate that Baidong Mountain sat atop the spirit caves, whose energy could easily be drawn upon to restore stability to the area¡ª after all, that place had seen one of the most devastating battles of the war, with many high-level cultivators being slain all at once. In the days immediately following, it had certainly been extremely chaotic, even dangerous, to be in the area unless one¡¯s cultivation and willpower was strong enough to withstand the high levels of volatile energy.
Come to think of it, he wondered why Qin Wenying¡¯s death hadn¡¯t caused so much a stir in that respect. Either the assassin had been prepared and mitigated the damage, or the late clan leader¡¯s cultivation really hadn¡¯t been that high¡
¡°In that case¡ then, this Ning Zhifeng must have faked his death to betray the cultivation world and turn to the side of the heretics,¡± Song Mingzhen mused. ¡°Perhaps he broke his spiritual weapon on purpose, to conceal his treachery.¡±
Ning Feiyun didn¡¯t respond right away. Instead, he reached into the pouch at his waist and took out a signal flare, releasing a silver-hued firework into the sky to call for reinforcements. Then, he bent over and picked up the spear that Ning Zhifeng had been fighting with.
¡°This weapon¡ it is a crude replica, but in many ways its appearance and aura is similar to the one he used as commander of the mountain patrol,¡± he said, his voice low. ¡°This¡ is the weapon that wounded me.¡±
¡°Ah, right¡ª you were injured.¡± Song Mingzhen suddenly snapped out of the haze he¡¯d fallen into, remembering his companion¡¯s injury. He tilted his head to get a look¡ª though Ning Feiyun¡¯s posture was a little bent and his face was pale, it seemed like the bleeding had really almost stopped. ¡°How is it?¡±
Ning Feiyun glanced up briefly, then back down at the spear, whose tip was dark and glistening with blood. ¡°Not too bad. It wasn¡¯t the injury itself that caused me to fall into such a state¡ but seeing this weapon again, and the fighting style of my old commander¡¡±
His voice trailed off, and eventually he bowed his head.
¡°Forgive me. I was shocked to see this person who I¡¯ve long thought was dead, and because of that I left you to fight alone when you have yet to fully recover yourself.¡±
Song Mingzhen waved off his apology, releasing a long, slightly shaky breath. ¡°There¡¯s no need to apologize,¡± he shook his head, ¡°I can understand that¡ª besides, I was able to handle it well enough in the end.¡±
Ning Feiyun¡¯s expression was still a little hesitant¡ª whether or not Song Mingzhen¡¯s assertion of ¡°well enough¡± was true was still up for debate. Though his demeanor seemed to have gone somewhat back to normal now, for awhile he¡¯d seemed almost as out of it as Ning Feiyun. Still¡ Ning Feiyun didn¡¯t mention it. They¡¯d both need to be examined by a physician once they returned to Baidong Mountain, so any injuries or troubles Song Mingzhen had sustained would be addressed then.
It didn¡¯t take too long for the reinforcements to arrive. The flare had been spotted by a nearby mountain patrol, who quickly flew over to meet them¡ª crossing an area that had taken a day on foot in a matter of moments. Ning Zhifeng, still unconscious, was placed in restraints, while the rest of the fallen rogue cultivators¡¯ bodies were examined. Four of the five were dead, but the young woman who wielded the red silk was still just barely clinging to life. The patrol took both of them back to have their injuries treated by the mountain prison¡¯s physician, so that they could be properly questioned later. Meanwhile, Song Mingzhen and Ning Feiyun prepared to return to Baidong Mountain.
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¡°Your injury needs to be treated, so we ought to fly back instead of returning on foot,¡± Song Mingzhen suggested. ¡°Since you know the terrain best, why don¡¯t you fly us back? I can help to keep you steady.¡±
Ning Feiyun¡¯s face turned impossibly paler, and he shook his head. ¡°En¡ Song-ge, there¡¯s no need for that. I¡¯m certain I can handle something so simple on my own¡¡±
Song Mingzhen sighed. He hadn¡¯t wanted to mention it, but¡ ¡°I¡¯ve had a bit of trouble maintaining my connection with the Chengxiao sword. It¡¯s probably because my cultivation base still hasn¡¯t fully recovered¡ I fear I may fall out of the sky on my own.¡±
How embarrassing. He felt a warmth rise to his cheeks, gaze drifting toward the ground.
Ning Feiyun looked surprised. ¡°But didn¡¯t you fly here from Jieyun Hall?¡±
¡°I did. But¡ back then I hadn¡¯t just finished fighting an unexpected battle.¡±
¡°¡ I see.¡±
For a moment, it seemed like Ning Feiyun was going to refuse again. The question of whether to help or not warred in his gaze, as if he didn¡¯t fully trust that Song Mingzhen was being truthful. In the end, though, he yielded.
¡°Come on, then.¡±
He made a gesture with the hand that wasn¡¯t clasped over his wound, and his Shuangci spear that had been placed on the ground nearby sprang up, shaking off a layer of snow that sparkled like stars in its faint spiritual light. Song Mingzhen stepped up behind him, and as they rose up into the cloudy night sky, he placed his hands in the center of his back. Though his cultivation was still a little unsettled, it wasn¡¯t so volatile anymore, so he sent a gentle trickle of spiritual qi into Ning Feiyun¡¯s meridians as they cut through the clouds heading northwest. Ning Feiyun took a brief, shuddering breath, and they dipped down ever so slightly in the air. With a concerned frown, Song Mingzhen drew back his spiritual power, unsure if he¡¯d overestimated his stability.
¡°Is something wrong?¡± he asked.
¡°No¡ª no,¡± Ning Feiyun shook his head, but he seemed to tremble a bit. ¡°It was¡ I was merely a little surprised.¡±
¡°Ah¡ª I said I would help to steady you.¡±
¡°Yes¡ I suppose you did.¡±
¡°You¡¯re still quite pale. May I continue?¡±
A moment passed in silence, then Ning Feiyun nodded, and Song Mingzhen once more began to channel his spiritual power into his companion¡¯s body.
They passed the rest of the flight this way, and by the time they landed Ning Feiyun seemed to have regained a bit of color in his cheeks. Still, Song Mingzhen insisted that he go directly to the medical ward of Baiyu Palace to have his wound treated, while he went to report to Ning Jianlin in his companion¡¯s stead. After another bit of hesitation, Ning Feiyun agreed, and Song Mingzhen wove his way through the halls toward Ning Jianlin¡¯s study.
The good-natured clan leader listened as Song Mingzhen recounted the events of the day, as well as the identity of the perpetrators. The relief on his expression about hearing that the rogue cultivators had been caught gradually faded, his visage darkening when he learned that the one leading the group was none other than the former mountain patrol commander. He became even more grave when Song Mingzhen told him that the Second General also had not been among them.
¡°Once the prisoners wake they must be interrogated,¡± Ning Jianlin said, ¡°The former commander would be familiar with the region, and he would have no doubt kept his equipment when he defected¡ so that certainly explains how they were able to infiltrate and escape. But¡ the matter of the missing prisoner is still troubling.¡±
¡°I agree,¡± Song Mingzhen nodded¡ though, in the back of their mind he felt a sense of doubt¡ª a hazy confusion, as though they were overlooking some other factor.
Ning Jianlin, however, either didn¡¯t feel the same or wasn¡¯t letting it show. Instead, he knit his brows and spoke again in a low voice, ¡°How is Feiyun? He was very close with the commander, and Ning Zhifeng¡¯s death was quite devastating for him¡ back then he was very depressed. Now, to think that the person he admired so much turned out to be a traitor¡¡±
¡°Ning-san-gongzi is doing as well as can be expected,¡± Song Mingzhen answered truthfully, ¡°To say he were entirely unaffected would be inaccurate, but his character is strong enough. He¡¯s not fallen into despair.¡±
It was true that Ning Feiyun had looked rather upset, but in the end he¡¯d overcome that¡ª on the way back he seemed, like Song Mingzhen, to have mostly gone back to his old self. When Song Mingzhen had sent him off to see a physician, the vacant look had receded from his eyes and his expression, while still worried, was no longer so tense.
¡°That¡¯s good¡ I suppose many years have passed since then,¡± Ning Jianlin nodded. ¡°He is also more secure in his position now than he once was. Back when I first took him into my family, he had some difficulty adjusting. He was very hard-working, but his temperament was timid and he did not make friends easily, even with his own elder brothers. Unlike the other divisions, status is not taken into account when choosing members of the mountain patrol¡ª only aptitude. Even though Ning Zhifeng comes from a distant branch family, his capabilities still allowed him to rise to the rank of commander. Perhaps that is why young Feiyun, while he was still uncertain about his status, was so comfortable with him.¡±
He went on to tell how Ning Feiyun, ever since he first came to Baidong Mountain, had been extremely diligent in studies and trainings, and how he had qualified for the mountain patrol when he was only twelve years old. Seeing that he had a lot of potential, Ning Jianlin had entrusted his adopted son¡¯s further training to the current mountain patrol commander, and the two had quickly grown close. After only a few years had gone by, Ning Zhifeng had already chosen the third young master to succeed him¡ª something which Ning Jianlin had enthusiastically agreed to.
¡°He was quite highly respected by both his subordinates as well as the other commanders, and never showed any sign of disloyalty,¡± Ning Jianlin sighed, ¡°This turn of events¡ no one would have expected it. It seems, though, that he kept his traitorous thoughts well-hidden. Even though he could have easily sown discord between Feiyun and myself, he never took such an opportunity.¡±
How curious¡ while Song Mingzhen wasn¡¯t exactly sure why the clan leader was taking this time to tell him so much about Ning Feiyun¡¯s childhood, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder what had driven Ning Zhifeng to turn against his clan in the first place. The Nameless sought the destruction of the cultivation world¡ why would a legitimate cultivator betray his family and join their side?
¡°Ning-zongzhu¡ may I have permission to question the prisoner once he wakes?¡± he asked. ¡°After all, it seems that Ning Zhifeng was also involved in the attack on my clan¡¯s territory a few months ago.¡±
Ning Jianlin agreed almost immediately. ¡°It¡¯s only reasonable that you should be permitted to do so¡ª you also played a significant role in his capture. Besides, I¡¯m certain if you did not question him now, Song-zongzhu would send someone to do so after he heard that the cases were connected.¡±
After the conclusion of their meeting, Song Mingzhen made his way to the medical ward where he found Ning Feiyun sitting on a cot, dressed in his inner clothes. The bitter-earthen smell of herbal medicine was thick in the air, and Baiyu Palace¡¯s physician, who had just finished treating Ning Feiyun¡¯s wound a moment ago, offered to have a look at Song Mingzhen¡¯s injuries as well.
Song Mingzhen declined¡ª though he had received a few minor wounds during the battle in addition to the cut on his shoulder, and his robes were stained with blood, the injuries had already healed without leaving so much as a scar. He hadn¡¯t forgotten the odd lapse in cultivation he¡¯d experienced during the battle, but now that they¡¯d caught the culprits behind the attacks. It shouldn¡¯t be too long before he returned home, and the issue wasn¡¯t too pressing. He had also brought along some stabilizing pills just in case. In the end, he would much prefer to be treated by his own family¡¯s physicians. They were already familiar with his condition, after all.
He sat down on an empty cot across from Ning Feiyun, who still seemed a little embarrassed.
¡°Ning-zongzhu inquired about your well-being,¡± he said. ¡°How are your wounds?¡±
¡°I should recover fully in a few days¡¯ time,¡± Ning Feiyun replied. ¡°Though it was quite deep, the spear thrust did not hit any of my vital places. I was fortunate.¡±
Fortunate¡ or perhaps Ning Zhifeng had felt some sentimentality and spared his former prot¨¦g¨¦¡¯s life, Song Mingzhen thought.
If his father were here, he¡¯d more than likely suspect Ning Feiyun of colluding with the enemy¡ but Song Mingzhen had long since decided that his father¡¯s opinion of Ning Feiyun was really far too harsh. The look of betrayal and despair in his eyes once he realized who was behind the attacks had been genuine¡ª far from the look of someone who had known it from the start.
¡°You plan to speak to the commander, don¡¯t you?¡± Ning Feiyun asked.
Song Mingzhen nodded. ¡°I do.¡±
¡°Then¡ might I come with you? I¡¡± he trailed off for a moment, looking down toward the ground.
¡°You want to find out why,¡± Song Mingzhen finished for him, ¡°I understand. Truth be told, I¡¯m also a little curious about that myself.¡±
Then, he gave a short laugh.
¡°Besides that, I have a feeling you¡¯re a more effective interrogator than I am¡ª of course you can come along, things might go more smoothly that way,¡± he said.
Ning Feiyun nodded, releasing a soft sigh. ¡°¡ Thank you.¡±
Song Mingzhen spent a little longer in the medical ward before returning to the guest lodgings, where he took one of the stabilizing pills and spent the rest of the night in meditation. When morning came, Ning Feiyun had already been cleared to leave, and after hearing that Ning Zhifeng had regained consciousness, the two of them once more departed for the mountain prison.
Resentment and Grief
Ning Zhifeng had been confined to one of the cells on the mountain prison¡¯s upper level. His injuries hadn¡¯t been too severe, and because his cultivation was good he had recovered quite a lot overnight with just some basic treatment from the prison¡¯s physician.
As Song Mingzhen and Ning Feiyun entered the mountain prison once more, this time walking straight in with an escort instead of hiding themselves behind concealment devices and slipping covertly from place to place, the prison guard explained that the other rogue cultivator they¡¯d captured, the wielder of the red silk, had also survived the night. Though her condition was stable enough, she had yet to regain consciousness. Song Mingzhen thought it didn¡¯t matter too much. Since Ning Zhifeng was the leader of the group, he ought to have all the answers they needed anyway.
The inside of the cell was about as dull and drab as might be expected, with nothing but a pile of straw in one corner for sleeping and a clay vessel in another corner for waste. Before the pair entered, the guard placed a small silver bell in Ning Feiyun¡¯s hand that could be used to signal to the guards outside should a problem arise. When the door closed behind them, Song Mingzhen had to fight to quell a sudden rush of panic as his spiritual sense was cut off from beyond the walls. His hands clenched tightly within his sleeves and he bit down on the side of his mouth hard enough to taste blood, but fortunately he managed to keep the tremors that wracked his insides from making it to the surface.
Ning Zhifeng was seated on the pile of straw, leaning half-upright against the wall. A heavy chain, forged of iron with faint inscriptions running up and down the metal, was fastened around his ankle. Song Mingzhen could tell that it was was yet another measure to inhibit the prisoner¡¯s spiritual power, as well as to secure him in place. The former patrol commander only glanced up once when they came in, then quickly looked away again and refused to meet their gaze. Everything from the defeated slump in his posture to his pale face and the distant, glazed-over look in his eyes revealed a man who had thoroughly lost hope and resigned himself to his fate.
For a moment, Song Mingzhen actually felt a little bad for him. Then, he remembered that this same man and his companions had attacked Anfeng City, assassinated a clan leader, and freed a dangerous criminal.
¡ and nonetheless, he found that he still felt bad for him.
After the door closed, silence struck the small, enclosed space like a thunderclap. Ning Zhifeng did not stand up to greet them, nor did he acknowledge their presence any more after that first glance. Song Mingzhen turned to look at Ning Feiyun, who also seemed quite pale, as though he couldn¡¯t quite bear to look at the man he had once admired so much in this kind of circumstance. Song Mingzhen wondered what his companion was thinking¡ did he also pity Ning Zhifeng? Was he angry with him for his betrayal? Or perhaps it was a bit of both.
When Ning Feiyun finally spoke up, though, there was neither anger nor pity in his voice¡ª instead, more than anything else, he simply sounded confused and distraught.
¡°Xiaowei¡ why did you do this?¡± he asked, ¡°Why did you betray us and join forces with our enemies?¡±
Ning Zhifeng stiffened a bit and slowly looked up at Ning Feiyun. Then, that dull gaze of his drifted once more toward the ground. A few moments passed before he answered, the only sound in the room their own breathing¡ª tremulous in Ning Feiyun¡¯s case, while Ning Zhifeng¡¯s seemed surprisingly calm and even.
¡°Are they truly¡ our enemies, Xiao-Yun?¡±
The voice that came out from Ning Zhifeng¡¯s mouth was quiet and distant, and Song Mingzhen saw Ning Feiyun¡¯s shoulders stiffen when he was addressed in such a familiar manner despite the gravity of the present situation.
Once more, Ning Zhifeng looked up, still focusing only on his former subordinate as if Song Mingzhen wasn¡¯t even there. He released a long, shaky sigh, and shut his eyes, tipping his head back to lean it against the unyielding stone of the cell wall. ¡°You now lead the mountain patrols, Xiao-Yun. You can see just how much the Qin clan relies upon our family to protect Yinshan and its people. The Qin clan¡¯s cultivators seal themselves into their stone halls and workshops and furnace-chambers, while the burden of ruling and defending this land falls upon our shoulders¡ª were it not for the mountain patrol, the city watchmen, the prison guard, Baidong Mountain surely would not have stood for as long as it has.
¡°And yet¡ despite it all our clan leader, your father, is not given the same level of respect as that Qin Wenying, though he is older, wiser, and far more competent. Just because it was the Qin clan¡¯s ancestor and not the Ning clan¡¯s who was given the heavens¡¯ blessing, our status in the cultivation world is entirely dependent upon our subservience. Though many of our clan have achieved greatness and some have ascended to the heavens, even the greatest among us is still seen as lower than the weakest of the great clans¡¯ cultivators.¡±
As he spoke, he did not once raise his voice¡ª nonetheless, within his words years upon years of resentment could be heard, bitterness that had been passed down through the generations. Despite the close relationship between the two families, how could there be no grudge between them at all? Their ancestors had once stood on equal footing, but now because of chance and circumstance, one had been raised above the other, their positions immutable as an inscription carved in stone. Even if those positions had been determined by the heavens, some discontent was inevitable.
¡°The great Dao has three thousand paths, so why should it be restricted to only five families and those they deem worthy?¡± Ning Zhifeng asked, and now, finally, there was a flash of anger within his eyes. ¡°Those who dare to find their way onto the path of cultivation without the clans¡¯ blessing, whether by intention or by chance, are punished as evildoers¡ª even if no true evil has been done. An end to this injustice, that is the goal of the Nameless.¡±
Hearing all this, Ning Feiyun¡¯s hands curled into fists. ¡°The world enjoys peace today because of the centuries of protection offered by the great clans,¡± he countered, his voice stiff. ¡°The power gained through cultivation is not something to be taken lightly¡ª from the Great Demonic War, to the rebellion five hundred years ago, to the war with the Nameless, almost every conflict from ancient times until the present was set off by those who sought to overturn the decree of the heavens.¡±
Before Ning Zhifeng could respond, another voice broke in to challenge Ning Feiyun¡¯s words.
¡°But if the heavens did not intend for those outside of the great clans to enter the Dao, then would the gate not be barred to them completely? Why allow for exceptions at all, if every exception is a transgression? If a nameless cultivator were to reach the peak of Jiedan and surpass a heavenly tribulation, would the Heavenly Immortal Realm reject them and send them crashing back to the earth?¡±
Silence fell once again, more deafening than ever before¡ª and Song Mingzhen¡¯s throat went dry. He had opened his mouth to speak without even thinking of the words he was about to say, and they¡¯d tumbled from his lips without restraint.
He hadn¡¯t even known that these thoughts existed in his mind to begin with!
Ning Feiyun was staring at him in shock, and as for Ning Zhifeng¡ there was a strange expression on his face now, a flicker of curiosity in his gaze as he turned to Song Mingzhen. It was as if he were actually seeing the young man for the first time.
¡°¡Gongzi, it seems we are not acquainted,¡± he murmured.
Song Mingzhen blinked, his mind still reeling. ¡°Ah¡¡± he began, still a bit taken aback by his own previous statement, ¡°I am Song Dian, Song Mingzhen, the eldest son of Dayuan¡¯s Song clan.¡±
¡°Song-zongzhu¡¯s son¡¡± Ning Zhifeng¡¯s voice trailed off thoughtfully, his gaze still not leaving Song Mingzhen¡¯s features, studying him like he was trying to read some secret inscription off of his face. Then, after a while, recognition seemed to dawn within his eyes. ¡°I see.¡±
Ning Feiyun was looking paler than before, and it seemed that Song Mingzhen¡¯s surprising argument had caught him off guard. He struggled to collect himself and continue¡ª this was supposed to be an interrogation, after all. He hadn¡¯t expected the conversation to take such an odd turn, especially since Song Mingzhen had never before expressed such thoughts openly. He shook his head a bit, and straightened his posture, his demeanor shifting to become more cold and stiff than before.
¡°Are you the one who killed Qin-zongzhu?¡± he asked.
Ning Zhifeng, so talkative before, suddenly became silent as a stone.
¡°Answer¡ otherwise, I will have no choice but to resort to harsher methods,¡± Ning Feiyun continued, and though he was trying to maintain an unyielding air, his voice became softer toward the end, almost like a plea.
Once more, Ning Zhifeng raised his head. ¡°The assassination was not carried out by my hand,¡± he said, then paused a moment and added, ¡°But the one who did the deed¡ is already dead.¡±
Ah¡ so it had been a collaborative effort after all. Such was to be expected of a former commander. Then the one who had dealt the final blow must have been one of his allies that fell during yesterday¡¯s skirmish.
Ning Feiyun continued to press on with his questioning.
¡°Did you free the Second General of the Nameless from the mountain prison?¡±
¡°¡ She too was freed by my allies.¡±
¡°Where is she now? Why was she not among you when you attacked us? Do you have more allies hiding elsewhere in the mountains?¡±
Ning Zhifeng sighed. ¡°Don''t you already know? The great clans wiped out almost the entirety of our faction at the end of the war. Those who remain are scattered, and few have enough courage to take up arms again. Most of the ones who managed to escape simply wish to live out the rest of their lives in peace, without causing trouble.¡±
¡°And what about the Second General?¡± Ning Feiyun demanded. Though his voice was still even, Song Mingzhen could see a slight tremor in his hands.
¡°I do not know where she is now,¡± Ning Zhifeng shook his head. ¡°When she was freed, her mental state wasn¡¯t very good¡ and at some point, she wandered off and we were unable to find her. It is just as likely that she ran into some trouble, perhaps a wild beast or some natural obstacle. Her cultivation base had already been shattered and her spiritual root destroyed¡ª she is now powerless as a mortal, perhaps even weaker. I don¡¯t think she could have survived long in the treacherous conditions.¡±
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It was a little odd, how forthright Ning Zhifeng was being with all of this information. He answered the questions readily, and Song Mingzhen could not detect any kind of falsehood. All of his explanations were thorough and seemed reasonable¡ª perhaps he was telling the truth, and now that he¡¯d been sealed inside the mountain prison, he had simply given up on his rebellion.
Song Mingzhen supposed it made sense¡ even if Ning Zhifeng hadn¡¯t given up on his ideals, it was easy to see that the current plan had fallen through. One escape from the mountain prison was difficult enough to pull off¡ª there was no chance worth thinking about that it would happen again any time soon. Ning Zhifeng would never again in this lifetime see the outside of these walls.
In the end, withholding information would only cause him additional discomfort, while doing little to nothing for his cause.
Ning Feiyun wasn¡¯t entirely satisfied with this explanation¡ª the missing Second General was still a loose end, after all¡ª but it was true what he said. Her cultivation had already been destroyed. Even if she had survived and escaped into the world, she wouldn¡¯t be much of a danger anymore.
Still¡ if Ning Zhifeng wasn¡¯t telling the truth, especially about the size of his faction, it could lead to even more trouble later on.
Before he could continue on with the interrogation, though, Ning Zhifeng looked up and fixed his former prot¨¦g¨¦ with a gaze that was at once both mournful and critical. ¡°Xiao-Yun¡ you of all people ought to understand the struggles of the Nameless, whether or not you agree with their methods. Because you were adopted by our clan leader, you were able to cultivate your potential, and now you¡¯ve risen to take on my old position. But had you not been chosen that day, to pursue the same goals would have you branded a criminal, hunted across the land without rest until the day you die. Do you truly think that to be fair and just?¡±
¡°¡ I cannot answer that,¡± Ning Feiyun shook his head quickly, but he had stiffened up, alarm flashing across his face. ¡°I cannot answer that,¡± he repeated, ¡°I am the one doing the questioning¡ you and your allies have killed and wounded countless others, even those of your own family. How could you have the right to decide what is fair and just?¡±
His voice rose in pitch and volume, and Song Mingzhen startled a bit as well, seeing that his shoulders had begun to shake. Apparently, the effect of Ning Zhifeng¡¯s words was not insignificant. Though Ning Feiyun was trying his best to remain the calm and cool-headed interrogator, he wasn¡¯t able to easily control his emotions right now. Song Mingzhen couldn¡¯t tell whether he wanted to attack Ning Zhifeng or run away, but needless to say it was alarming to see Ning Feiyun so worked up by this.
Instinctively, Song Mingzhen reached out to place a hand on Ning Feiyun¡¯s shoulder, firm and steadying. The other man flinched at first, then turned to meet Song Mingzhen¡¯s gaze. His eyes, wide and anxious, slowly began to relax and narrow down, and he released a long, drawn out sigh.
¡°What might have been¡ is irrelevant,¡± he muttered, his voice only just above a whisper as he shook his head. He had calmed down a bit now, but he still refused to look directly at his former commander. ¡°Whatever, whoever I was before, I am now a son of the Ning clan, and I will uphold my duty to my clan and thwart any danger to all that lies under the cultivation world¡¯s protection. I am sorry, Jun¡ª no¡ I am sorry. You have aligned yourself with our enemies, and thus you must also be counted among them.¡±
He then turned to Song Mingzhen, a firm expression on his face. ¡°It seems we have our answers, for now. If there¡¯s nothing more, let us return to inform my father of what we¡¯ve learned from the prisoner.¡±
Then, Ning Feiyun began to make his way toward the door, raising the silver bell and giving it a single chime.
As the door to the cell opened, however, and Ning Feiyun and Song Mingzhen prepared to depart, Ning Zhifeng suddenly called out, ¡°Wait.¡±
The two of them paused, turning back to look at the prisoner.
¡°I have something more to say,¡± Ning Zhifeng said, ¡°but I will only say it to Song-gongzi. Who he tells¡ that is his own choice.¡±
Song Mingzhen and Ning Feiyun traded glances. This was an odd development. If anything, it ought to be the other way around¡ª it was Ning Feiyun that he had a history with, not the visitor from another clan. Still, any offer of information was better than none, so the silver bell was wordlessly handed off to Song Mingzhen as he nodded his head.
¡°Very well,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯ll stay behind a little longer.¡±
Ning Feiyun left the cell, and the door shut behind him, leaving Song Mingzhen alone with the prisoner. Once more, he had to still his rising anxiety as he was sealed inside the muffled cell, cut off from the outside world. He clutched the silver bell tightly, his one connection to what lay beyond that door, until it left impressions in his palm.
¡°What did you wish to speak to me about?¡± he asked, still confused by the request.
For a moment, Ning Zhifeng stared off into the distance, as if reminiscing about something. Then, he tilted his head. ¡°Would you like to know how I came to join the Nameless?¡±
Song Mingzhen didn¡¯t answer¡ª but Ning Zhifeng continued on anyway.
¡°Ever since I was a youth, I always felt stung by the disparity between my own clan and the ruling clan of Yinshan. It was back in the time of the old clan leader¡ª Qin Wenying¡¯s father, you know? The records tell of the great achievements during his rule, but not of who it was who actually accomplished them. The roads between the mountain villages, the region¡¯s endless security, the prosperous trade with your own Dayuan¡ while the old clan leader approved it, it was my clan¡¯s people who carried matters out with our own hands. Much of the planning, too, fell to Ning Feiyun¡¯s father and grandfather. As part of the mountain patrol, I surveyed and built many of the roads myself¡ but today, you do not remember such things, only that the old clan leader single-handedly brought Yinshan to an era of prosperity.¡±
He scoffed a bit, and shook his head. ¡°It was back then, during the time I was surveying for the mountain roads, that I met a young woman¡ in fact, I met her in that very same valley where we fought before. She also was a cultivator¡ª she and her family¡ª but they did not belong to any of the great clans, and had instead been dwelling deep in the mountains for several generations. They took advantage of the runoff from the rivers that flow through the spirit caves, and lived peacefully, not interfering with the orthodox cultivation world or showing their power to those outside of their own family. She was beautiful, and charming, and different than the women who were raised in cultivation society, and I was young and hot-blooded¡ well, in the end she became the mother of my child, a beautiful daughter.¡±
Song Mingzhen¡¯s eyes widened as he listened. So it was like this, then¡ the whole matter was much more scandalous than he¡¯d expected.
An look of unspeakable pain crossed Ning Zhifeng¡¯s face, and he took in another tremulous breath. ¡°Of course, I could not simply bring her home and wed her¡ and to do so would mean that she could never see her family again. But I thought back then that though they were rogue cultivators, they had no intention of causing trouble with the clans, so instead I simply diverted the roads and paths being built so that her family¡¯s village remained unnoticed, and did whatever I could to provide them with the means to raise our daughter well. Meanwhile, I hoped that perhaps I would be able to find some way to use my position as Mountain Patrol Commander to allow an exception to be made for her family, because if nothing else, it was well known that the main branch had a tradition of adopting children from Mengshan Temple¡ª such as Ning Feiyun. I thought perhaps¡ well¡¡±
He trailed off, and his expression suddenly became grave. He shut his eyes tightly, as if shielding himself from the memories, then exhaled, long and slow, and continued, ¡°Then came the war. I did all I could to keep them from being discovered¡ª but because of my position, I was frequently called away. Not long after the battle of Baidong Mountain, I heard news that a well-established clan of rogue cultivators had been discovered in the mountains. By the time I got there¡¡±
Now he stopped speaking abruptly, and Song Mingzhen thought he saw tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It was obvious where this tale was headed. He braced himself.
¡°The woman I loved¡ was gone. Her entire family too,¡± Ning Zhifeng said quietly, his voice shaking with anger and grief. ¡°The village had been burned to the ground, and there was nothing left¡ nothing but my daughter, who had been wrapped in a length of red silk and tucked away in a small crevice. She was hardly seven years old, and had already seen her entire family die with her own eyes while she was hidden away. I took her away from that place, but because I did not wish to see her raised among her family¡¯s murderers, I brought her to Mengshan Temple.¡±
He looked up, meeting Song Mingzhen¡¯s gaze with a haunted look. Slowly, he shook his head. ¡°By that point¡ it had already fallen. I decided there that I no longer wished to have any part in this, and so I returned to the remnants of the village and broke my spear. It¡¯s often said that rogue cultivators rarely even reach peak Ningqi stage, but that¡¯s not always the case. Because of her family¡¯s proximity to the spiritual mountain, she and I were evenly matched at this point in time. Her death had left a spiritual impression that would have been equal to my own¡ª and with my broken spiritual weapon left behind, I knew it would be assumed that I had perished there.
¡°I took my daughter up to a remote village in the south of the region, and we lived there peacefully for a time, making a living by gathering herbs in the mountains. I had my cultivation, and my daughter had been taught by her mother, so we were able to go places ordinary mortals would have trouble reaching¡ª not that we told anyone our secret, of course. She had inherited her mother¡¯s spiritual weapon and wished to continue cultivating her family¡¯s path, and I allowed her to do so, guiding her where I could and shielding her from the eyes and senses of the mountain patrol until she had advanced enough to do so on her own.¡±
He went on to tell Song Mingzhen about how during the war, he would occasionally help members of the Nameless hide in the area, or provide them with medicinal herbs and information about the mountain patrol¡¯s routes and lookout places, but that he never directly participated in the war or its aftermath. In the five years that followed, his daughter¡¯s cultivation advanced by leaps and bounds until she had nearly reached the Zhuji stage boundary. They¡¯d kept their heads low, living a quiet life, until just a few years ago, when Ning Zhifeng¡¯s daughter had gone out to search for a place to go into seclusion and ascend to the next stage in her cultivation. The two of them always carried a pair of warning talismans with them, so that when they were separated they could tell one another if they¡¯d run into trouble. While Ning Zhifeng was doing some work around the house, his warning talisman was set off, and he quickly followed it to find his daughter engaged in combat with a small patrol from Baidong Mountain. One man was already dead, while the other was still struggling in combat with the young girl, who was barely holding her own.
Ning Zhifeng hadn¡¯t even hesitated before turning on his own former subordinates for the sake of his daughter, killing her opponent and concealing the corpses.
¡°Even though she had suppressed her spiritual aura, and was simply going about her business, she was still detained for suspicious activity,¡± Ning Zhifeng explained, ¡°Had she not fought back, the spiritual weapon she carried would still be discovered anyway¡ª but there was also a part of her, of course, that sought revenge for her mother¡¯s death. It was at that point that I understood¡ª this world has no place for my daughter. If I wished for that to change, I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands. And she¡ she also wished to fight. To change the world.¡±
Now, he buried his face in his hands, looking very small as his shoulders began to shake. ¡°My one treasure¡ my Yan''er is gone now¡ I no longer care about changing the world.¡±
At the beginning of the story, Song Mingzhen wondered why it was that Ning Zhifeng was telling him all of this, why he had requested to speak to him alone. Though, considering Ning Feiyun¡¯s emotional distress about all of this, it wasn¡¯t surprising. However, the further the story went, the more Song Mingzhen¡¯s heart sank as the pieces fell into place.
A child tucked away, wrapped in a protective layer of red silk, a girl who inherited her mother¡¯s spiritual weapon, who lashed out at the cultivation world, who would be just about fourteen years old now¡ A high-pitched, youthful voice declaring that her comrade was dead, a length of shimmering red silk torn apart by a spiritual blast, a pair of shining crimson blades, glistening like blood, plunging one after the other into its wielder¡¯s body¡
That person could be none other than the Yan''er that Ning Zhifeng was speaking of.
Song Mingzhen looked down at this father grieving his daughter, and couldn¡¯t help but think of his own father, and those five years he spent anxiously at his son¡¯s bedside while he lingered on the border between life and death. He¡¯d already pitied Ning Zhifeng before¡ and now he felt even more sorry for him. Ning Zhifeng may be a criminal, responsible for the death of a clan leader among others, but there was still something about his story that tugged at Song Mingzhen¡¯s emotions.
Perhaps¡ it was also because he felt responsible¡ª after all, he was the one who had injured Yan''er until she was near death, and especially now that he knew she was practically a child¡ª that he wished to offer some small gesture, something that might ease the worst of Ning Zhifeng¡¯s agony.
He cleared his throat and spoke up in a voice that sounded distant to his own ears.
¡°Your daughter¡ is not gone. She is still alive.¡±
Cracks in the Surface
¡°Yan¡¯er¡ is still alive?¡±
Ning Zhifeng¡¯s voice was soft, as though he hardly dared to speak, much less to actually believe the words of the man who he presumed to have killed his daughter.
His disbelief was hardly surprising. The strange red blades had pierced twice through the girl¡¯s body, and she¡¯d fallen limp to the ground, blood quickly soaking the snow that surrounded her. Besides that, she wouldn¡¯t have been the first to die in that fight. Song Mingzhen clenched his jaw tightly, shoulders stiffening. He¡¯d not meant to kill anyone that day, and yet in the end only two had survived, one of them seriously injured.
This was the first time he¡¯d been in a real fight after his five-year recovery, and that he should be so unstable, so easily agitated¡ it was troubling to say the least.
Now he understood, perhaps, why the man wished to speak to him alone, why he told him all these things. It must be an attempt to stir up some guilt or regret within him¡ whether to cause some change or just to make him feel some fragment of the pain he had inflicted, Song Mingzhen wasn¡¯t certain.
Either way, he couldn¡¯t deny that the attempt was at least somewhat successful.
¡°Yes,¡± he answered, nodding his head. ¡°As of when we arrived here, she is still alive. The wounds are severe and she is still unconscious, but the physicians say that her condition is fairly stable for now.¡±
Ning Zhifeng¡¯s expression, which until now had been dulled by despair and faint resentment, suddenly changed. His brows knit together, then rose up, gaze lifting to meet Song Mingzhen¡¯s. Within his eyes was first disbelief and wariness, but then, almost despite himself, there was a faint glimmer of hope. ¡°So¡ then it¡¯s true what I saw,¡± he murmured half to himself. Then, he quickly shifted and bowed his head to the ground. ¡°Gongzi¡ª please, save my daughter¡¯s life. I no longer care about any of this, if only Yan¡¯er can live¡¡±
Song Mingzhen startled a bit at the sudden change in demeanor, and hurried to urge the man to raise himself up. ¡°What does Qianbei mean by this?¡± he asked, ¡°I cannot make that kind of promise. Her life is in the hands of the physicians now, and the Qin clan¡¯s judgment after that¡ª I have no power over it.¡±
Ning Zhifeng lifted his head, but remained on his knees, a smudge of dirt now adorning his forehead where it had touched the ground. ¡°On the contrary, it may very well be your own hands that hold it now. Gongzi¡ you are that Song Mingzhen who defeated our Great General, aren¡¯t you?¡±
Unsure what that had to do with anything, Song Mingzhen nonetheless nodded his head. Despite his missing memories, everyone assured him that it was he who had defeated Mo Yuan, the Great General of the Nameless. There was no one else it could have been.
¡°Then¡ it must be that something strange happened during that battle. Though I myself did not fight in the war, I was fortunate enough to meet the Great General personally one time, before he had become known by that title. This was not long after I left my clan, and it was not widely known among the rogue cultivators that I was friendly to their plight. When the young man crossed paths with me, he assumed I was still his enemy, so I became acquainted with his newly-forged vital weapon,¡± Ning Zhifeng explained. ¡°I thought I must be seeing things when I saw the art which Gongzi used to defeat Yan¡¯er¡ª that my vision was unclear, or that I was mistaking a fragment of Yan¡¯er¡¯s Chiyi silk for something else¡ª because it appeared to me that Gongzi was using our Great General¡¯s infamous Xuelian twin blades. But if you were the one to defeat him after all¡¡±
A chill ran up Song Mingzhen¡¯s spine when he heard these words, running from his core up to the base of his head and making him feel light-headed and dizzy. His heart began to beat fast in his chest, and he quickly shook his head as a poignant sense of alarm set his entire body alight. ¡°Qianbei is mistaken,¡± he replied, perhaps a bit more emphatically than necessary. ¡°I have yet to cross the Jiedan boundary, and even so, how could I wield another¡¯s vital weapon?¡±
Ning Zhifeng paused, suddenly realizing just how unlikely his theory sounded. He lowered his gaze once more, shoulders slumping. ¡°Ah¡ I see. I suppose it was only a desperate hope, that perhaps something happened when Gongzi fought our Great General beneath the Yantai Mountains, considering the power of that demonic sword.¡±
Song Mingzhen suddenly stiffened. ¡°That demonic sword¡± was no doubt referring to the demonic tool that had been guarded by Dayuan¡¯s Song clan since ancient times, sealed deep beneath the Yantai Mountains¡ª Qinguang sword. It was said that this blade could take the lifespan and cultivated power of those who it cut down and deliver them to its wielder instead. The entire reason Mo Yuan had attacked Ruijian Pavilion, after all, had been to obtain that demonic weapon.
The more Song Mingzhen thought about it, the more uneasy and unsettled he felt. Because he didn¡¯t know exactly what transpired that day, he couldn¡¯t say whether or not chance and circumstance had led him to wield the Qinguang sword against his opponent. The possibility had never crossed his mind before¡ª but there was no doubt that he had wielded a strange, unfamiliar art during the fight in the snow-covered valley. If Ning Zhifeng had faced off against Mo Yuan¡¯s vital weapon before, then he would surely recognize it.
With a chill in his fingertips, Song Mingzhen realized that he couldn¡¯t fully discount this possibility. His knees felt a bit weak, and he had to reach out to support himself against the wall so that they didn¡¯t buckle beneath him. That now-familiar panic was rising up like bile in the back of his throat, a voice in the back of his mind urging him to flee, but he refused to appear so weak and afraid in front of a prisoner like Ning Zhifeng.
Still, it seemed that the man had noticed his face turning paler and the shakiness of his breath. He raised up his hands. ¡°Song-gongzi¡ I did not mean to needlessly alarm you. I only thought there might be some slight possibility that you had inherited this power.¡±
The secrets of the ancient demonic tools were known only by the leaders of the five clans, and passed down to their successors just before they took on the role themselves. As far as everyone else knew, there were only rumors. None of the rumors said that the Qinguang sword could also transfer the vital weapons of its victims, but if lifespan and cultivated power could be stolen, who could say that was the end of its abilities? Perhaps it really could do something like that, and perhaps, in a moment of desperation fighting against an enemy stronger than he was, Song Mingzhen had actually taken up that demonic sword in order to win the battle.
The problem was that the role of the great clans was to guard and seal the five demonic tools. They were not to be used, for fear of the destruction that could be wrought upon the mortal world¡ª not even in the most dire of situations. Song Mingzhen, who had been set upon the righteous path since birth, surely wouldn¡¯t have broken that taboo.
Right?
¡ the truth of the matter was that he simply didn¡¯t know, and until he managed to recover his memories of that day, he wouldn¡¯t have that answer.
That is, unless there were some way to find out now.
He took in a breath, doing his best to conceal the tremor that rose up along with it. ¡°This weapon, Xuelian twin blades, let¡¯s suppose that I had become its master,¡± he said, his voice low. Though the cell was sealed off from the outside, so they wouldn¡¯t be overheard, he couldn¡¯t help but feel a little anxious even voicing the possibility aloud. ¡°Why would that make it any easier for me to save the life of your daughter?¡±
Ning Zhifeng looked a little surprised. His lips pressed into a frown. ¡°I had assumed that Gongzi would already be aware of the weapon¡¯s unique traits,¡± he noted. Then after thinking for a moment, came to a conclusion¡ª ¡°Perhaps, though, you never witnessed their capabilities firsthand as I did. I cannot say precisely the way that it works, but the Great General was able to exercise some control over the wounds he dealt with his vital weapon. It was as if a bond of blood was formed between himself and his opponents, that he could turn the wound more mild or severe as he wished. If he wanted them to live, they lived, and if he wished them dead, they would surely die.¡±
A chill raced down Song Mingzhen¡¯s spine. So that was the sort of power that the Great General wielded. He¡¯d heard rumors and tales, and of course skimmed through the records, but there hadn¡¯t been much detail¡ª and since that person was already dead, Song Mingzhen hadn¡¯t seen the need to ask for anything more. Or perhaps few had lived to experience the full extent of Mo Yuan¡¯s power¡ª if he were as vicious and bloodthirsty as people said he was, then he would have surely inflicted death upon the majority of his victims. Ning Zhifeng was probably an outlier here, someone who Mo Yuan had use for, so he¡¯d spared his life.
¡°I see¡¡± Song Mingzhen murmured, still feeling quite unnerved. ¡°So if I had this power, you think I would be able to heal your daughter¡¯s wounds.¡±
The wounds he himself had inflicted, with a vital weapon whose origin and power he didn¡¯t even understand¡ he quickly cut off that train of thought. It was just a speculation for now, who knows whether it was true or not.
¡°Not heal, precisely,¡± Ning Zhifeng shook his head, ¡°But at least you would be able to ease them. In my case, the damage was not entirely undone, but the bleeding was stopped and it seemed that the wound was shallower than before. It didn¡¯t take long to heal after that.¡±
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¡°But her condition is stable now,¡± Song Mingzhen countered. ¡°Why not simply leave it to the physicians?¡±
If it really was true that he had obtained Mo Yuan¡¯s Xuelian blades, it would still probably be better to leave it to those experienced in medicine, rather than attempting to use a skill he was unfamiliar with that could make things worse if not done correctly.
¡°Perhaps, but¡ just as a wound from the Xuelian blades can be healed by its wielder, it can also be prolonged. It may well be that the wound will never heal unless it is permitted to, even if it has been treated. When I attempted to heal my own wound by circulating my spiritual qi, it was useless until the Great General had retracted his power,¡± Ning Zhifeng replied.
So this was the true nature of the ¡°bond of blood¡± that he had described. What a terrible ability! Even a small wound could cause endless agony, and there was little chance of escape¡ª because it was the power of a Jiedan stage cultivator¡¯s vital weapon, only those whose boundary surpassed its wielder¡¯s would be able to resist or counter it. Within the entire cultivation world, there weren¡¯t many that could even hope to reach that level. It was no wonder that the Great General of the Nameless had become so infamous in such a short time.
With each new bit of information Song Mingzhen learned, the more his stomach turned and twisted itself into knots. What had really happened five years ago, beneath the Yantai Mountains? Had he really wielded a demonic weapon and gained such a terrible power?
Even though Song Mingzhen was generally considered to be his generation¡¯s most promising rising star, Mo Yuan was still a major boundary above him. It wouldn¡¯t be easy to defeat him. Hearing about how this person had all but single-handedly challenged the five great clans, and especially the chaos he caused within Baidong Mountain, Song Mingzhen couldn¡¯t help but wonder if he would have been able to come out victorious without the aid of something like the Qinguang sword. Coupling that with the instability in his cultivation that he¡¯d experienced ever since his awakening, and it seemed far more possible than he would like it to be.
He sighed, reaching up to press a hand against his brow. His head was starting to throb, that now-familiar sense of dizziness becoming impossible to ignore.
¡°I will at least check on her condition,¡± he said at last, ¡°but I cannot promise that I¡¯ll be able to help in any way.¡±
Even if it all was true, he wouldn¡¯t know how to properly use a vital weapon that wasn¡¯t his own, and if it wasn¡¯t¡ Song Mingzhen wasn¡¯t a physician, nor was he well-versed in healing arts beyond the basics.
Ning Zhifeng bowed his head, and his expression had turned dull once more. ¡°Thank you,¡± he replied, though it sounded half-hearted. ¡°I only hope that she will live. If she does not¡¡±
He shook his head, his voice trailing off into a sigh of deep resignation.
Somehow, Song Mingzhen understood what he meant.
Even from the beginning, Ning Zhifeng would have known this outcome was inevitable. Even a much larger force, with formidable leaders like Mo Yuan and the other six generals, the Nameless had still been defeated and the uprising crushed. A small group like theirs wouldn¡¯t stand a chance, especially after drawing so much attention to themselves. Still, both he and Yan¡¯er had chosen to fight¡ª in this scenario, to choose to fight almost meant the same as choosing to die.
Thinking about this made Song Mingzhen¡¯s chest feel tight, throat aching as if he were the one who had made such a desperate play, facing a bleak and empty future. His head began to pound even more than before, and he¡¯d broken out in a cold sweat. It felt like something inside of him was revolting, as though a terrible beast had been bound up inside his ribcage and was now thrashing about, trying desperately to escape, even as Song Mingzhen fought to keep it buried.
He reached out to steady himself against the wall, trying to reign in his racing thoughts.
If Ning Zhifeng noticed his interrogator¡¯s unsteadiness¡ª which he almost certainly did¡ª he didn¡¯t react to it beyond a slight raise of his brows. He simply watched from his place in the corner, waiting until Song Mingzhen managed to collect himself.
It took a few moments, but eventually the pain in his head abated, the dizziness lessening to a bearable amount. He opened his eyes again, and his vision was still a little hazy. Perhaps he shouldn¡¯t have agreed to this after all¡ but he still couldn¡¯t ignore the chance to find answers.
At the same time, though, when he compared the story Ning Zhifeng had told him about his life after defecting to the recent attacks, the situation didn¡¯t add up.
¡°Even if you and your daughter wished to fight,¡± he began, trying to ignore the feeling of anxiety still simmering beneath the surface, ¡°Why would you not simply strike out at passing patrols? Why attack a neighboring region¡¯s capital city during a festival? Why assassinate Qin-zongzhu? More importantly¡ why go through so much trouble to free the Second General, only to let her disappear later? It all seems far too reckless.¡±
To go from hiding away in a mountain village, living the simple life of an herb gatherer, to leading a risky movement that seemed to choose its targets almost deliberately to draw attention, it just wasn¡¯t all that believable.
Song Mingzhen narrowed his eyes slightly. ¡°Are you truly the one who made this plan? Or is there someone else who you answer to?¡±
The silence that fell afterwards was like a stone dropped from the heavens. Ning Zhifeng didn¡¯t respond right away, and stared downward at the lines and cracks of the stone floor. The anxious atmosphere that had formerly swirled around Song Mingzhen alone now expanded to the entirety of the cell, and he thought he could even see a slight shiver in Ning Zhifeng¡¯s shoulders.
At last, the former commander lifted his gaze and began to speak¡ª
Before a single syllable could leave his lips, though, he closed his mouth again.
Song Mingzhen¡¯s eyes widened a bit, and the rush of his own thoughts was interrupted¡ª what was that?
Then, Ning Zhifeng shook his head, quickly recovering. ¡°No, there is no one else,¡± he said, ¡°I am the one who planned this. Yes, it was reckless¡ but because of my knowledge and the tools that I brought with me when I defected, it was accomplished without too much difficulty.¡±
¡°Baidong Mountain, I can understand,¡± Song Mingzhen continued to press, ¡°The woman you loved was killed, your daughter lost her family, it¡¯s only natural to seek vengeance. But why attack Anfeng City? Your advantages would be few there, and all you truly accomplished was drawing my father¡¯s attention.¡±
Once again, Ning Zhifeng hesitated before responding. Then he answered, ¡°The festival that day, it was meant to celebrate the defeat of the Nameless and the fall of our Great General by your own hand. Should those of us who remain simply sit by and allow our destruction to be celebrated?¡±
He was clever with his words, and his explanations were solid. Though it had seemed like he had given up before he heard of his daughter¡¯s survival, he still held fast to those convictions. Song Mingzhen might have admired him had the circumstances been different, but as it was¡ he doubted that the interrogation would get much further, at least for today. Not to mention his own instability, where each turn of the conversation threatened to send him into a new bout of panic.
Perhaps it was best to leave for now. Still¡ he couldn¡¯t stop wondering.
He had to make just one more push.
¡°The best outcome is that you spend the rest of your life confined to this place,¡± Song Mingzhen stated, his voice flat. ¡°Your daughter will have the same fate. Even if she does survive, her role in all of this will not be overlooked. More likely, however, both of you will face execution.¡±
His gaze sharpened like a knife¡¯s edge as he watched Ning Zhifeng¡¯s reaction. Though the man¡¯s face turned a bit pale, he did not seem surprised¡ª clearly, even as he pleaded for the girl¡¯s life, he had expected this outcome.
Truly, none of this made sense. Their lives sounded mostly peaceful aside from that one incident, so why take such a risk?
¡°I don¡¯t think there will be a way to spare you, the leader,¡± he continued, ¡°but if you can provide information that proves that your daughter wasn¡¯t involved in the assassination or the prison break, then perhaps she at least might be allowed to keep her life.¡±
Though after seeing the long-term residence that the mountain prison provided, Song Mingzhen couldn¡¯t say whether a life in this place would be better or worse than a swift death, especially for a child of fourteen. Another series of shivers ran down his spine, up his shoulders, down into his half-numbed fingers. All of this left a sour taste in his mouth and a bitterness in the back of his throat. Even as he himself spoke, he was gripped by a sense of dread, of displeasure¡
Of disgust.
His hands felt as if they were coated in blood. With every word that left his lips, condemning a mere child to death for seeking to avenge her murdered family, offering hope that she could instead spend the rest of her life in a dark, sealed chamber, chained to the wall with her cultivation broken until she¡¯d gone mad just like Qiu Wei¡
Even if he himself would have no say in the sentencing, he knew well enough the way things would end.
The hand he wasn¡¯t using to steady himself curled into a tight fist, gripping the bell held within it until deep indentations were left in his palm. He shut his eyes, exhaling a long, shaky breath, then shook his head.
¡°That¡¯s enough for now,¡± he said, his voice distant over the ever-present thumping of his heart. ¡°I will see what can be done for the girl.¡±
He didn¡¯t ask Ning Zhifeng to reconsider. He didn¡¯t threaten him¡ª what more was there to threaten him with, even? Torture? If that was all there was, Song Mingzhen would prefer to leave it to someone else, far away from his eyes, ears, and senses. For now, he simply rang the bell, a clear note echoing off the walls of the cell.
The door opened, and Song Mingzhen turned on his heel and left, storm clouds gathered on his brow. He passed the bell back to Ning Feiyun, who gave him a questioning look as the door closed, cutting Ning Zhifeng off from the outside once more.
Song Mingzhen shook his head. ¡°We can discuss things later,¡± he told Ning Feiyun. What Ning Zhifeng had told him, about Yan¡¯er, about Mo Yuan¡¯s vital weapon, even about his motives for the attacks¡ all of it was lost in the whirlwind of Song Mingzhen¡¯s mind, spinning and crashing together, breaking apart and reforming as he tried to connect all of the pieces. He didn¡¯t know how much of it he wanted to share, if any.
No doubt, Ning Feiyun already felt conflicted, considering their past connection.
Before Song Mingzhen could turn and make his way back toward the prison gates, Ning Feiyun¡¯s hand came to rest upon his shoulder, stopping him.
¡°Are you alright?¡± Ning Feiyun asked.
Song Mingzhen looked up, meeting his gaze. Midnight-dark eyes reflected his own, dark brow knit with concern. For a moment, he was surprised. Was this Ning Feiyun the same cold, stiff person who had come to Jieyun Hall that day?
He took a breath that was a bit shakier than he would have liked. ¡°There¡¯s no need to worry,¡± he shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m only¡¡±
What was it that he was feeling? Anger? Dread? A dull, aching grief he couldn¡¯t quite place? All of it wrapped up together in one. He wasn¡¯t alright. He was far from alright. But he wouldn¡¯t say that now. It was too much to speak of, and certainly too much to trouble Ning Feiyun with. At last, he settled on an answer.
¡°The conversation¡ brought some unpleasant memories to mind.¡±
It was half-true. Though the mention of the Qinguang sword and Mo Yuan¡¯s vital weapon had set off a sense of deep discomfort within him, it was not the memory itself but rather the lack thereof that was so disconcerting. As for the rest¡
Well, he wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it. Besides that, he didn¡¯t even know if he could trust Ning Zhifeng¡¯s words at all.
In the moment after he¡¯d asked if Ning Zhifeng was the leader of the Nameless remnant, he¡¯d noticed it¡ª a barely perceptible shift in Ning Zhifeng¡¯s spiritual flow, a flash that coiled up around around his throat and darted across his lips. Just when he was about to say something, perhaps something that would reveal who was really behind this, he was cut off.
He hadn¡¯t just fallen silent.
He¡¯d been silenced.
The Siege, Part 1
As he watched Song Mingzhen go, Ning Feiyun¡¯s brow furrowed, lips pressing into a slight frown.
There was something strange going on with him.
By now, anyone would be able to see it¡ª but in Ning Feiyun¡¯s opinion, Song Mingzhen hadn¡¯t seemed quite right even during their brief meeting at Ruijian Pavilion a few months ago. He couldn¡¯t quite place exactly what it was, though¡ after all, he couldn¡¯t exactly say that the two had been close before Song Mingzhen¡¯s injury. They¡¯d only met a few times before, during the war¡ª but that first meeting between them had left quite the impression upon Ning Feiyun.
Seven years ago, Baidong Mountain had come under siege. Though the war was now said to have begun a year earlier, with the sudden appearance of a group of rogue cultivators at the Immortal Clans¡¯ Conference, at the time the true threat posed by the Nameless was still unknown. The growing menace of rogue cultivators was attributed simply, as ever, to those small bands of evildoers that appeared here and there throughout the jianghu, menacing patrols and merchants for spiritual tools and supplies. Thus far, beyond that singular appearance a year prior, everything else had been fairly standard activity.
Some, of course, worried that the attacks upon the clans¡¯ outposts and patrols seemed to be growing more frequent, and that even some young cultivators had disappeared seemingly without a trace. Still, who would have thought that the Nameless had already amassed enough strength to challenge one of the cultivation world¡¯s greatest strongholds?
At that time, Ning Feiyun was eighteen years old, and had yet to become the mountain patrol commander. If the present Ning Feiyun had a reputation for being overly serious and unyielding, he was even more so as a youth. Desperate to prove himself to Ning Jianlin and the cultivation clans of Yinshan, every moment not otherwise occupied by some official matter was spent training, studying, and meditating within the spirit caves. He had been diligent like this even as a child in Mengshan Temple, caught up in a never-ending informal contest with a boy whose natural talents far surpassed his own¡ª and now with the resources of the cultivation world at his disposal, he would surely take advantage of each one.
Ning Feiyun had already managed to surpass the Zhuji boundary, and while his skill in combat had yet to reach the level of his commander, he could hold his own well enough while sparring with Ning Zhifeng. Despite his worries, he had earned the admiration of the entire mountain patrol, as well as that of his adoptive family, and all placed a great deal of trust in him.
Like everyone else, he had heard of the growing troubles with rogue cultivators. It was common enough for such people to attempt to flee into Yinshan¡¯s mountains and valleys when they ran into trouble in neighboring Dayuan or Cuijiang, so as the deputy commander of the mountain patrol, Ning Feiyun would encounter them from time to time.
Back then, he was far more sympathetic toward such people¡ª perhaps it was because he was still young, or because among those called ¡°evil cultivators¡± there were a few he had once called friends¡ª and so he would show leniency against those he encountered, at least those who hadn¡¯t caused grievous harm. If he happened to cross paths with them while out on patrol, and it wasn¡¯t during an attack or robbery, he was inclined to simply turn away, as though he¡¯d never seen them there.
They were considered little more than a nuisance back then, after all, and many seemed quite poor and destitute¡ª their cultivation, too, was rarely above early Ningqi. Rather than fearing them, Ning Feiyun was more likely to pity them.
Had he known what kind of threat these people would pose in the future, he might have taken things a bit more seriously.
If he had, then perhaps the specter of the invasion of Baidong Mountain wouldn¡¯t hang so ominously over his head today.
On the day of the attack, the sky was clear after a bout of storms that had lasted several days. Ning Feiyun was away from the mountain with a small patrol, checking the mountain roads in the storm¡¯s aftermath. Rainwater pooled among the rocks, and a breeze whisked away the crystalline droplets still clinging to the branches of trees as the smell of petrichor rose up from the ground and hung in the air. Aside from a few fallen branches here and there, little was out of the ordinary, and the morning held no portent of the evening¡¯s troubles.
Ning Feiyun¡¯s mind was preoccupied that day. He had been troubled as of late, and he was eager to quickly return to the mountain once they¡¯d finished clearing the roads. Though the sun had been shining brightly all day, clouds began to gather once more as the patrol began to return. The nearer they came to Baidong Mountain, the thicker the clouds became, and Ning Feiyun felt a sense of anxiety beginning to grow within him.
As they came into view of the mountain, though, they halted mid-flight. The nigh-invisible barrier array that surrounded the mountain suddenly shone with bright silver light, a tremor racing outward across the mountains¡ª turning from a haze of mist to an impenetrable wall through which none could enter or leave!
Feelings of anxiety turned to chilling dread at the sight of a signal firework rising into the sky above Baidong Mountain. Ning Feiyun commanded his Shuangci spear to fly faster, carrying him swiftly toward the mountain barrier with the rest of his patrol not far behind.
In five hundred years, there had never been an attack on Yinshan¡¯s stronghold. Now, that peace was broken, and the full strength of the barrier array had been engaged. All along the mountainside, the forests had been set ablaze, a cloud of thick smoke and ash released into the air to mingle with the cloud. Ning Feiyun looked down to see a crowd of rogue cultivators gathering around the barrier. Some possessed spiritual weapons that allowed them to fly up around the mountainside, but most remained on the ground. They appeared as a chaotic collection of individuals with no single uniform or defining trait, most armed with ordinary swords, spears, and bows, some of which had been crudely fused together with spirit stones to imbue them with spiritual power. Some wore silk robes, but many were dressed in rough-spun peasants¡¯ clothing, and among the crowd were men and women, youths and elders.
Their numbers were at least a hundred but probably more¡ª Ning Feiyun had never seen this many rogue cultivators together in one place, gathered together on the mountain road and hovering around the barrier, looking for any gap to exploit.
Ning Feiyun landed on the mountain road that led toward the stronghold, forming a seal with his fingers and summoning his spear to hover before him, radiating with silvery light. The members of his patrol landed at his heels. Here, just before the barrier, the greater part of the attacking force had gathered¡ª their incursion apparently stopped in its tracks by the activation of the barrier array. On the ground were stains of red blood and scorches of flame, and ash fell from the sky like snow upon fallen corpses¡ª some wearing the attackers¡¯ nondescript clothing, others dressed in the Ning and Qin clans¡¯ grey and white.
The Qin clan¡¯s cultivators generally didn¡¯t specialize in combat, and most of the Ning clan¡¯s fighters were spread throughout the region¡ª it would take time for them to see the signal firework and return here. Once the battle had begun and the strength of their enemies was made known, it had no doubt been decided to retreat to the mountain and seal it until reinforcements arrived. Ning Feiyun¡¯s patrol had come a few moments too late and several shichen too early. It was only he and four others, all of whom had reached the middle of Ningqi at the highest¡ª though most of these rogue cultivators were comparable at best, they were vastly outnumbered, and no aid would come to them from inside the barrier.
Ning Feiyun should have been more careful before approaching. He should have taken a bit more time to consider the situation and its possible outcomes¡ª it was a common criticism he had of the decisions made in his youth, that they were too impulsive¡ª but he was inexperienced at the time, and caught off guard by the sudden attack on his clan¡¯s stronghold.
This was the first battle that Ning Feiyun had faced, apart from a few skirmishes with rogue cultivators or bandits in the mountains. He¡¯d never seen anything of this scale before. The moment they landed, though, the attention of the invaders whose way forward had suddenly been cut off turned on them.
Ning Feiyun knew immediately that he¡¯d rushed in too quickly. ¡°Go,¡± he ordered his patrol, ¡°We¡¯re outnumbered¡ª go to the southern, eastern, and western watchtowers and¡ª¡±
Before he could finish giving orders, a powerful spiritual blast rippled through the air, striking him and sending him stumbling backwards and his companions falling to the ground. His face pale, his heart pounding wildly, he looked up to see who it was that had struck out at them, reaching out to call the Shuangci spear back to his hand.
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Among the crowd was a young woman dressed all in black, with a tall, willowy figure and angular shoulders. She had an air of chilly elegance about her, and a commanding presence, carrying herself with much the same air as a cultivation clan¡¯s young master would, though with a particular dangerous edge. A half-mask of copper filigree covered the left side of her face, from which eyes glistened like pools of deep water beneath a fine, dark brow. Her presence was commanding, and it was immediately clear that the one who led this attack was none other than her.
When she saw Ning Feiyun, the corner of her lip twisted up into a smirk that was equal parts teasing and bitter. ¡°Ah¡ I had expected there would be a straggler or two running for the mountain, but too late to reach it,¡± she said, voice ringing like a bell over the distant crackle of flames. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect, though, that it would be you. It¡¯s been so long since we¡¯ve met, A-Qian¡ª so much has changed.¡±
Ning Feiyun¡¯s eyes widened in shock. A-Qian¡ it was the name he had been given at Mengshan Temple, Luo Qian. Even though almost everything about her had changed since they last met, Ning Feiyun still recognized her as soon as he heard that old name¡ª the one leading this attack was none other than one he¡¯d known before his adoption into the Ning clan: Qiu Wei.
Out of all the temple¡¯s orphans in Ning Feiyun¡¯s cohort, it was he and Mo Yuan that showed the most potential for cultivation, whether that be due to natural talent or hard work. Directly on their heels had been Qiu Wei. Unlike Ning Feiyun, who had been too young to remember the day he arrived at Mengshan Temple, Qiu Wei was already older when she arrived. For the first year, she was completely silent and sullen, shutting out the others and ignoring any attempts to play with or befriend her, and eventually most of them decided it was best to just leave her to herself. Mo Yuan, though, had taken a liking to her, and eventually whittled away at the walls she¡¯d placed between herself and the world¡ª and because Ning Feiyun was often together with Mo Yuan, he ended up spending time with her as well.
Qiu Wei was a little older than Ning Feiyun, and always at least a cun or two taller than he was. There was a scar on the left side of her face which she often kept hidden beneath wrapped bandages. Even after befriending Mo Yuan, she remained quiet and withdrawn, so though she and Ning Feiyun were often in each others¡¯ company, they rarely spoke between themselves. Qiu Wei didn¡¯t speak of her life before coming to the temple. Once, Ning Feiyun had foolishly asked about it, and after that incident the girl refused to meet his gaze for several days. Out of the three of them, Mo Yuan was by far the most talkative and charismatic¡ª and Ning Feiyun honestly couldn¡¯t say for certain whether he and Qiu Wei had actually been friends back then, or if they¡¯d simply been drawn together by the circumstance of catching Mo Yuan¡¯s interest. Ning Feiyun even remembered that he had felt a little annoyed by her presence at first, when Mo Yuan started to include her in their games¡ª though he gradually came to accept her presence.
Now, though her face was the same, she was almost unrecognizable in temperament¡ª her chin was held aloft, and eyes that once seemed to be haunted by unspoken memories now burned brightly and proudly amid the rain of ash.
Had they met under different circumstances, Ning Feiyun might have been glad to see her again. As it was, though, he¡¯d already seen the flames in the valley and the bodies that lay along the path. This was no time for pleasantly greeting an old friend. It was clear that the two now stood on opposing sides.
Because of this, Ning Feiyun refused to acknowledge the familiarity that once lay between them, refusing to lower his guard or stand down.
¡°I am Ning Feiyun, of Yinshan¡¯s Ning clan,¡± he announced instead. ¡°Why have you attacked Baidong Mountain? What is your intention?¡±
Qiu Wei seemed a little surprised at first by his lack of familiarity, and maybe even a bit hurt. ¡°So, you truly belong to them now,¡± she murmured, thoughtfully resting her hand against her chin. Her gaze flicked toward the ground, then back up to Ning Feiyun, the look in her eyes suddenly cold. ¡°If that¡¯s so, then I suppose you and I are now enemies.¡±
Ning Feiyun narrowed his eyes.
¡°San-gongzi, do you know this person?¡± one of the patrolmen who stood at his back asked in a low whisper.
Ning Feiyun clenched his jaw and was about to reply, but before he could speak, Qiu Wei made her decision. She made a sharp gesture to the others accompanying her.
¡°Subdue them and bind them¡ª but don¡¯t underestimate them. Their leader is far from unskilled.¡±
A chorus of agreement came from the rogue cultivators that surrounded the small patrol, and they immediately moved in to attack. Their coordination wasn¡¯t the best, and most of them weren¡¯t very strong, but the five-person patrol was vastly outnumbered. Ning Feiyun fought as well as he could, but in the end it was no use¡ª they were subdued, their arms bound with spirit-binding thread and their weapons and spiritual tools confiscated, carried out of reach on Qiu Wei¡¯s orders.
Throughout their struggle, the barrier remained solid, without a single flicker. Though they were just outside, none issued forth to aid them.
It would be unwise to open the barrier now, when so many assailants were poised and ready to press the attack¡ª but Ning Feiyun still couldn¡¯t help but find it strange that no one at all had come out to aid them, even though they were just outside the barrier. Little did he know that further disaster was already transpiring within the mountain itself.
¡°Qiu Wei!¡± Ning Feiyun cried out as he was pushed down to his knees, spirit-binding thread wrapping tightly around his arms and upper body. ¡°What are you doing all this for?¡±
Qiu Wei, who had been standing by watching the fight, raised her brow upon hearing his question. Fingers tapped rhythmically upon the hilt of her sword¡ª a spiritual sword of fine craftsmanship, one that was almost certainly forged by the cultivators of Ruijian Pavilion. Ning Feiyun had no idea how she could have obtained such a weapon.
She approached him, that cold look still in her eyes, and swiftly formed a hand seal. There was a flash of blue light, and Ning Feiyun felt something like an icy hand clasping around his throat, lifting him up from the ground to dangle in the air.
¡°A-Qian¡ no, Ning-gongzi,¡± she began, his new form of address dripping with resentment as it left her lips. ¡°Who do you think you are, to question what I do? What if I said that we were simply tired of being hunted?¡±
Ning Feiyun¡¯s heart was pounding. With his arms bound, he couldn¡¯t reach up to pry the invisible hand from his throat¡ª but it wouldn¡¯t have done any good anyway. Qiu Wei¡¯s cultivation was at least as strong as his, if not more so, and his spiritual power was restricted. He couldn¡¯t even resist.
¡°Wei-jie, you shouldn¡¯t do something so rash,¡± he gasped, shutting his eyes tightly, ¡°This is one of the cultivation world¡¯s greatest strongholds¡ª you can¡¯t hope to win! This will only make things worse for you! Please, let¡¯s at least talk first!¡±
Qiu Wei¡¯s eyes flashed. Despite Ning Feiyun¡¯s pleas, both of them knew one thing for certain.
¡°The time for talking has already passed,¡± Qiu Wei said in a low voice. The next thing Ning Feiyun knew, she¡¯d released her grip on him and he fell to the ground, coughing and choking.
¡°Just¡ go now,¡± he murmured weakly, his head spinning. ¡°You can still escape, if you leave before reinforcements arrive¡¡±
¡°Be quiet!¡± Qiu Wei snapped, her gaze flickering toward Ning Feiyun¡¯s patrol, who were staring in shock at his seemingly traitorous words. She released a short, bitter laugh. ¡°I¡¯ll do you at least one favor, on account of our past together.¡±
She gestured toward the men who were guarding the other four. ¡°Kill them.¡±
¡°What¡ª wait!¡± Ning Feiyun¡¯s eyes widened, but the command had already been given.
Within a moment, the guards had unsheathed their weapons, slaughtering Ning Feiyun¡¯s patrol before his eyes. His entire body felt cold, his mouth hanging open as their bodies fell to the ground, blood pouring from their wounds. He was struck speechless, and all the while helpless where he lay on the ground, ears still ringing.
¡°You offered to let me escape,¡± Qiu Wei stated, her voice flat and expressionless, ¡°So I thought I would at least return the favor. This way, no one will find out about your treacherous words.¡±
Ning Feiyun¡¯s breath was shaky, the beating of his heart like a drum. In an instant, his patrol was dead, all because of those words he¡¯d said¡ no. Struggling to lift himself up from the ground, he took another look at Qiu Wei¡¯s cold expression and realized that in the end, she would have killed them anyway. He¡¯d just given her a reason.
She was much different than the quiet girl from Mengshan Temple now, but that resentment she carried was the same. Now, it had grown all around her like vines, consuming her thoughts and her actions.
¡°You¡ no matter how much you wish to strike against the cultivation world, you must know this won¡¯t end well for you,¡± Ning Feiyun could hardly hear his own words over the pounding of his heart and the rasp of his breath. ¡°You¡¯ve only brought ruin upon yourself¡ª¡±
He stopped abruptly. In a flash, Qiu Wei had unsheathed her sword, its tip resting sharply against Ning Feiyun¡¯s collarbone, pressing in just enough to draw a single bead of crimson blood.
¡°You expect that I¡¯ll listen to you now?¡± she asked, voice low and threatening. ¡°You¡¯re part of an orthodox clan now, so you¡¯ve forgotten all your old friends. Why shouldn¡¯t you be perfectly happy to leave us behind?¡±
¡°Wei-jiejie¡¡±
¡°Who¡¯s your jiejie?¡± Qiu Wei snapped. ¡°You should be grateful that I¡¯m allowing you to keep breathing.¡±
Ning Feiyun fell silent, and Qiu Wei did as well. The sky above had turned pitch-black, and the ground beneath them had started to tremble. All around, an ominous feeling was rising up, creeping out through the spirit veins beneath the mountain and radiating up through the rock and soil. All of a sudden, the silver light of the barrier burnished copped, then turned blood-red¡ª and then, all at once, it shattered!
Lightning struck from the heavens, the deadly force of a heavenly tribulation raining down upon Baidong Mountain!
As the barrier array broke, a great spiritual blast rippled away from the mountaintop, causing nearby cliffsides to crumble and putting out the fire in an instant. Qiu Wei and the other rogue cultivators braced themselves, piercing the rock with their weapons to keep from being blown away. Not all of them, though, managed to keep their footing. Some were caught up in that concussive ripple of dispersing energy and thrown back, down the mountain road or into the flame-scorched valley below.
Among these was Ning Feiyun, bound with spirit-binding thread with his weapon far out of reach.
He tasted blood in his mouth as the blast struck him, sending him falling back, then tumbling across the ground. He tried to catch himself with his legs, but even the stones he tried to brace himself against had been shaken loose by that spiritual blast¡ª
Then, a great bolt of heavenly lightning struck the ground only a few zhang from where he had fallen. The ground cracked and crumbled, opening up into a yawning chasm beneath¡ª and Ning Feiyun, with his upper body still bound, plummeted over the edge!
The Siege, Part 2
Ning Feiyun fell down into the crevice in the earth, arms still bound, his body striking several times against the stones. With each blow, he could feel more of his bones cracking and breaking, the pain in his body almost unbearable and his mouth filled with the taste of blood.
He didn¡¯t fall too far before he landed, wedged between two stones merely a few chi from tumbling over the edge into the valley below. His legs were broken and he was gasping for each breath, and with the spirit-binding thread still trapping his arms, he couldn¡¯t pull himself back up, nor did he even dare to try moving. The crevice in the rock still seemed a little unstable, and one wrong move could dislodge him from where he¡¯d landed and send him plummeting to his death.
Blood dripped down from where his head had struck stone as he fell, soaking into his dark hair and plastering it down to his forehead. His head was spinning, stars dancing in his vision, breath rasping against his chest and throat and his heart pounding like a drum.
He''d survived. Barely, but¡ he¡¯d still survived. He wasn¡¯t dead.
Not yet.
The heavenly tribulation continued to rain down upon Baidong Mountain. Dark clouds swirled in the sky above, turning afternoon to midnight. Somehow, in the midst of this first attack in five hundred years, someone inside the mountain array had just crossed the Jiedan boundary¡ª and the heavenly lightning that fell from the sky had shattered the enhanced barrier array. Few even reached that level of cultivation, and Ning Feiyun didn¡¯t know of anyone within either clan that had recently approached that boundary. The timing was impeccable, whether for good or ill¡ª the destruction of the barrier had allowed Qiu Wei and her followers to charge in, but the ascension of a new Jiedan stage cultivator within Baidong Mountain could certainly turn the odds even more firmly in their favor.
Ning Feiyun, though, had no idea what was happening within the mountain stronghold beyond such theorizing. After the burst of energy from the collapsing barrier had dissipated, the rogue cultivators had pressed the attack, not even casting a glance into the crevice where he¡¯d fallen, and Baidong Mountain¡¯s cultivators would be too occupied fending off the attack to come searching for him¡ especially since the rest of his patrol had already been killed.
His breath caught once again, and it was a struggle to force it out through battered lungs once more. Qiu Wei had been troubled since they were young, but he¡¯d never imagined that she would turn out to be so cruel as to order such an execution coldly and without hesitation, even disguising it as ¡°mercy.¡±
A dark chill ran through Ning Feiyun¡¯s body. How had it come to this?
With his injuries and his spiritual power restricted, there was no way for Ning Feiyun to get himself back to the surface. Though Qiu Wei had a significant force with her, he didn¡¯t expect that she would ultimately prevail¡ª even though the Ning clan¡¯s fighters were scattered, there were still all manner of defensive and offensive tools and mechanisms within the mountain. Qiu Wei¡¯s cultivation might be good, but there was certainly not a single one of her companions who could have reached Jiedan stage. Such a thing was all but unheard of for rogue cultivators. They were no match for the stronghold of one of the great clans¡ª in the end they would surely be defeated.
Still, Ning Feiyun knew that no one would be coming for him for at least that long. Even if they did come¡ he wasn¡¯t sure that he would be strong enough by then to even call out, or even that he would live to see a rescue.
One way or another, he realized that he would most likely die here¡ª and he couldn¡¯t help but wonder if he deserved such a fate.
Qiu Wei¡¯s anger¡ so quickly had it turned on him, so quickly had his own words brought about the death of his patrol by her hand. She clearly resented him, even if she herself had shown little desire to be taken in by one of the clans when they were young. She and Mo Yuan had been alike in that way¡ª even though, before her arrival, both Ning Feiyun and Mo Yuan had hoped for the chance to enter the cultivation world. Something changed, though¡ª by the time Ning Jianlin visited Mengshan Temple, Mo Yuan actually went into hiding to avoid meeting with him, even though his skills were the best out of the three of them. Ning Feiyun still didn¡¯t understand why, but he knew that back then, he¡¯d felt quite jealous of Qiu Wei.
Even now, there a little bit of that old jealousy still remained. He couldn¡¯t quite feel responsible for her resentment either¡ª after all, Mo Yuan had been the one to deviate from their original plans and aspirations. Ning Feiyun had just continued on the same path.
That didn¡¯t mean he held no responsiblity for the fall of his companions. Those foolish words of his¡ it was as though he¡¯d lost his ability to reason once Qiu Wei appeared. It had been five, six years since they last met, and yet¡ though Ning Feiyun had tried to maintain an outward show of his current persona, his current alignment, though he had tried to insist both to her and to himself that his path was set and he had left his old life behind, he still felt like that young boy again as soon as they were face to face. He still remembered how he and Qiu Wei would practice and drill cultivation techniques over and over again amid the thickets of bamboo outside Mengshan Temple, growing more frustrated by the moment until Mo Yuan, lounging nearby with some book or painting brush, stood up and flawlessly demonstrated the technique on the first try, before going back to whatever he was doing before¡
Ah, he really had been infuriating.
Ning Feiyun shut his eyes. The present was too painful and dull, and so he¡¯d ended up with his mind entangled in the past. Of course, who could blame him? From the way he was positioned, all he could see was a narrow swatch of the valley beneath, its forest reduced to ash, and the sheer drop that would be his fate should the stones his body was resting against give way.
As he lay there in agony, he had quite a lot of time to think, to reminisce about a past that had fallen beyond his reach.
What would have happened, had he not left Mengshan Temple that day? If he had remained Luo Qian, one of many orphans with potential but no family background to stand upon?
Would he too be standing behind Qiu Wei today?
He doubted it. Something like this took not mere bravery, but bravery nearly to the point of madness. Ning Feiyun hadn¡¯t ever thought himself particularly brave, nor did he think he had the same sharp edges that Qiu Wei did. He wasn¡¯t even overly ambitious. More likely than not, he would have simply stayed at Mengshan Temple for his entire lifetime, teaching the children of later generations until he died peacefully in his old age.
How had all this come to pass anyway? Rogue cultivators were always a nuisance, but they¡¯d never appeared in such numbers before. Had Qiu Wei managed to unite all of the various groups and bands and individuals throughout the jianghu for this one grand endeavor?
No¡ she didn¡¯t have the temperament for that.
It had to be Mo Yuan¡¯s doing.
Mo Yuan¡
Ning Feiyun closed his eyes tightly, releasing a shaky sigh that rattled his lungs.
It was all doomed to fail from the beginning, anyway. Just like five hundred years ago, the last time factions of evil cultivators had joined together in an attempt to overthrow the ruling clans. Back then, cultivation outside their jurisdiction had not yet been entirely outlawed as it was now, so the numbers and power of Qiu Wei¡¯s group wouldn¡¯t nearly compare to their predecessors.
Ning Feiyun knew there would be nothing left of them by the end of this.
As time went on, his consciousness became weaker. The pain from his wounds intensified, then dulled, then intensified again, and a slow dripping of blood where broken bone had pierced the skin gradually created a shallow pool beneath him. Ning Feiyun¡¯s vision had grown cloudy, so he didn¡¯t bother looking anymore, and simply let his head loll to the side as he endured the pain, waiting for unlikely rescue or inevitable demise. He didn¡¯t have the strength now to try to free himself from his bindings.
What an ignominious end¡ despite all he had done to strive for a future, he still ended up this way, dying in a hole, helpless to save himself much less aid his adoptive clan in their struggle.
Day turned to night, then to overcast day again. The heavenly tribulation had long since ended, the final bolt of lightning striking down not that long after Ning Feiyun had fallen, but there was still no sign of rescue. He began to wonder, with what limited ability to think clearly remained, if he¡¯d underestimated the strength of Qiu Wei and her companions.
Shouldn¡¯t the battle be long over by now?
An ominous feeling hung amid the faint clouds of smoke still rising from the scorched trees below. Ning Feiyun couldn¡¯t hear any noise of battle, but he was a good distance away from Baiyu Palace and the stronghold proper. Every once in awhile, the earth around him shook from a concussive backlash of spiritual qi, a powerful cultivator meeting their end. Ning Feiyun had no idea whether these casualties were on his side or Qiu Wei¡¯s.
No matter how long it took, he could do nothing, not even to find out what was happening further up the mountain. By the time the second night fell, his breathing had become shallow¡ª and he began to accept that there was nothing more he could do besides wait for death.
Ning Feiyun was not a particularly stubborn person, nor was he someone with boundless confidence. Though he might strive towards a goal, he was the sort to accept when a desired outcome was beyond his reach. Though even now he would try to remain breathing for as long as he could, he also was well aware of his own weakened, damaged state.
But even as he began to relinquish himself into the embrace of an unconsciousness he would never wake from, he felt a faint rush of wind and heard fabric rustling in the breeze.
¡°Can you hear me, shixiong?¡± a voice called out, cutting clear as the ringing of a bell through muffled haze of half-consciousness that had gradually grown to envelope Ning Feiyun¡¯s senses.
Uncertain if he were hearing something in reality or if this was simply a final hallucination before death, Ning Feiyun laboriously opened one of his eyes. Blurry vision slowly came into focus, until he saw a figure hovering near the place where he¡¯d fallen, enveloped in golden spiritual light as though wrapped in rays of sunlight.
That light flashed toward him, and all of a sudden, Ning Feiyun felt the spirit-binding threads around him come loose, falling down about his injured body. His spiritual flow, which had been reduced to barely a trickle, suddenly surged to life, dulled meridians igniting as spiritual qi rushed through his body, instinctively moving toward the places where his injuries were most severe. After just a brief moment, he felt like he could breathe more easily, his mind and senses sharpening, the world reopening before him.
The figure before him was no longer hazy. It was a tall young man, clad in shimmering gold, standing atop a shining sword that was radiant as the dawn¡¯s light. His dark hair was fastened atop his head in a guan made of white jade carved into the shape of a blossoming lotus, and his expression was serious, yet somehow radiated warmth at the same time.
Ning Feiyun had not personally met this person before, but there was no mistaking who it was¡ª this was surely Song Mingzhen, the young master of neighboring Dayuan¡¯s Song clan, a person already well-renowned within the cultivation world.
He extended a hand to pull Ning Feiyun out of the rock crevice and carried him back up to the now-fractured mountain road. Though Ning Feiyun¡¯s spiritual flow had been restored, both of his legs were still broken, so he couldn¡¯t easily stand on his own. Song Mingzhen held him up easily, though, and once they were on solid ground, placed him down gently propped up against a stone. The skies above were still dark, clouds tinted a faint blood-red, and far up the mountain plumes of smoke were rising from burning workshops and buildings. The feeling of death permeated the entire surrounding area¡ª and it was clear even at this distance that the fight was still ongoing.
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With Song Mingzhen came several dozen of Ruijian Pavilion¡¯s cultivators. As he set Ning Feiyun down, he called one of them over to treat his injuries.
¡°My father received an urgent distress signal from Baidong Mountain,¡± Song Mingzhen said afterwards. ¡°What happened here?¡±
Ning Feiyun hadn¡¯t spoken at all these past days he¡¯d been lying in the rock crevice, so when he did speak his voice was rather hoarse. In as few words as possible, just enough to provide an adequate summary, he explained what he knew¡ª that a large force of rogue cultivators had attacked and been repelled by Baidong Mountain¡¯s barrier array, but that the array had been broken open by heavenly lightning, allowing the attackers to reach the mountain stronghold. Of course, he left out his personal connection to the leader of the uprising.
Song Mingzhen¡¯s expression was grave. ¡°It¡¯s already been several days, and neither side has claimed victory¡¡± he mused. ¡°Just how powerful are these evildoers?¡±
¡°Their strength may be more in numbers than skill alone,¡± Ning Feiyun replied, grimacing as one of his broken legs was set back into place.
¡°One Jiedan stage master is worth a hundred cultivators at Ningqi,¡± Song Mingzhen shook his head. He seemed troubled and wary. ¡°Baidong Mountain already has many such talents. If another has just crossed the boundary, the battle should have ended after only a single blow.¡±
Ning Feiyun agreed, but that didn¡¯t change the reality before them. ¡°Perhaps that person failed the heavenly tribulation.¡±
There was, of course, another possibility, though it was almost too outlandish to even entertain¡ª that the newly-ascended Jiedan stage cultivator was on the side of the enemy. In hundreds of years, no rogue cultivator had reached that point¡ but it wasn¡¯t truly impossible. Still, both Ning Jianlin and Qin-zongzhu were already at that stage, and both had well-established Jindan. They along with a few of the others had also been at the mountain that day. It was all very implausible, so much so that he hardly considered mentioning it.
At the same time, what other answer could there be?
¡°Perhaps,¡± Song Mingzhen replied, gaze turning up toward the mountain, toward the lingering red-lit clouds in the sky. Then, he turned back to Ning Feiyun. ¡°Your injuries are severe and you lack strength. It¡¯s no time for you to go into battle¡ª take these medicines, wait here and recover. I¡¯ll leave a few of my people here with you in case you meet with some danger, and go with the rest to Baiyu Palace.¡±
He was efficient, serious, and radiating an aura of calm confidence. Though he and Ning Feiyun were of a similar age, Song Mingzhen already seemed to be the far senior of the two, easily commanding such a large force and directing them to surround the besieged stronghold in groups. Once the strategy was set, he checked on Ning Feiyun¡¯s condition once more, then disappeared toward the stronghold in a flash of golden light.
More time passed. Bit by bit, the various mountain patrols and city watchmen returned to Baidong Mountain to join the fight, a few stopping by to check on Ning Feiyun¡¯s condition, but most going directly to the stronghold. Ning Feiyun¡¯s injuries improved, and after about a shichen he was able to stand on his own feet again. At around that time, there came a sudden sound of footsteps, and looking up the mountain road he saw a group of rogue cultivators hurriedly retreating down the mountain. Qiu Wei was not among them, but they saw Ning Feiyun and the two Ruijian Pavilion youths that had been left with him and quickly tried to divert their path and escape down the more gradual slope to one side of the path.
The person leading them was holding a weapon, one which Ning Feiyun recognized¡ª his own Shuangci spear, which he quickly used a seal to command from where he still leaned against a large stone as the others moved to strike down the escaping foes. Though Shuangci had been taken by the enemy, the spiritual weapon still recognized the commands of its master. What had once been a great prize suddenly became a curse upon the one that had taken it, loosing itself from the man¡¯s grip and whirling around to pierce back through his chest.
Ning Feiyun¡¯s gaze was cold as ice now, and he felt no remorse any longer, nor sympathy for these evil cultivators. He did not hesitate to strike them down, and the three of them made short work of the escaping group.
Not a moment later, though, a rush of wind could be heard. Above their heads, those rogue cultivators that wielded spiritual weapons of their own were escaping in all directions through the air. One of the Ruijian Pavilion youths commanded his sword to fly upward, but failed to strike them down. It was clear now, though, that after Song Mingzhen¡¯s arrival, the tide of the battle had turned. The attackers who had so eagerly rushed in were now trying desperately to escape Baidong Mountain.
With his spiritual weapon back in hand, Ning Feiyun and the others made their way up the slope to the mountain stronghold. The houses and workshops were in ruins, few to none still fully intact. Dispersed spiritual energy radiated from the ground and through the air, while fires burned where furnaces had burst open. Corpses lay here and there on the ground while the survivors picked through the rubble and retrieved them. From a look around, the casualties seemed to be fairly even on both sides, even young disciples not managing to escape¡ª though it seemed that most of the children and their mothers had been hidden away in the spirit caves before the battle reached its full force.
That, if nothing else, caused Ning Feiyun to release a long sigh of relief¡ª though it did not lessen the grimness of the situation by much.
The two Ruijian Pavilion cultivators went to assist some of their fellows, while Ning Feiyun himself continued up through the ruined city toward Baiyu Palace. A hole had been blown into the side of the mountain, leaving half of the great hall exposed. The entire inside looked as though it had been scorched by a great fire, and many of the bodies here were badly damaged, almost unrecognizable. Amid the rubble, Song Mingzhen stood with Ning Jianlin and Qin-zongzhu¡¯s son, Qin Wenying. All three had very solemn expressions as they surveyed the damage.
Baiyu Palace was no ordinary building, but a stronghold of the cultivation world. To see it in such a ruined state came as quite a shock.
¡°Qin-gongzi, Fuqin, Song-gongzi,¡± Ning Feiyun clasped his hands in greeting to the three of them, even as he continued to gaze about the destruction that surrounded them.
¡°Feiyun,¡± Ning Jianlin broke away from the others for a moment, his hands settling on Ning Feiyun¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Those stationed near the barrier reported that you had been taken by the enemy, but the citadel was already under attack, so none could be sent to aid you. When you did not come after the barrier fell, I feared for your life.¡±
Ning Feiyun shook his head. ¡°I was injured, but thanks to the arrival of Song-gongzi, my life was saved.¡± He glanced toward the gold-clad youth standing next to Qin Wenying.
¡°All of Baidong Mountain owes Song-gongzi a debt of gratitude,¡± Ning Jianlin replied, releasing Ning Feiyun¡¯s shoulders as he turned back toward the others. ¡°In my case, that debt is doubled¡ª I owe you the life of my son.¡±
He bowed his head, and Ning Feiyun joined him as well, falling silent. The lingering pain of his wounds still made it difficult to speak much.
Song Mingzhen inclined his head, ¡°My father sent me in response to Qin-zongzhu¡¯s distress call,¡± he replied, ¡°I happened upon where Ning-san-gongzi had fallen, and I could not leave him to die.¡±
¡°If only you had arrived sooner, Song-gongzi,¡± Qin Wenying spoke up from the side. ¡°Perhaps more of this tragedy could have been avoided.¡±
An uncomfortable silence settled between them, and Ning Feiyun glanced at Qin Wenying, a puzzled look on his pain-tightened features. He hadn¡¯t seen the Qin clan¡¯s young master often¡ª Qin Wenying¡¯s father had ruled Yinshan for over a hundred years, and his accomplishments and renown were not small. His son and heir, however, had little share in it, and was often away from the mountain, touring other regions and indulging in mortal pleasures. His father was still healthy and few in the cultivation world could match his strength, so Qin Wenying had little reason to believe that his lifestyle would need to change or that he would need to shoulder such heavy responsibility any time soon. He¡¯d only married Ning Feiyun¡¯s adoptive aunt and had a son few years prior, despite their long engagement. The few times Ning Feiyun had seen him, he always had a sort of carefree, idle demeanor¡ª now, though, he appeared to be in acute distress.
¡°My father would surely still be living had his strength not been divided between his own fight and defending the citadel,¡± Qin Wenying continued, bitterness unconcealed in his voice. ¡°We had nearly beaten them back, but then that monster appeared out of nowhere, wielding those blood-forged blades. He killed several of our strong fighters and wounded several more all within moments, even killing one of our Jiedan stage seniors. My father sent me away from the palace and sealed himself inside with that monster, but he also had to use his consciousness to maintain some of the defensive mechanisms around the citadel. How quickly those evil cultivators fled when Song-gongzi arrived! Had you come sooner, perhaps Fuqin would not have needed to sacrifice his own life to destroy that demon.¡±
Ning Feiyun was shocked by these words¡ª Qin-zongzhu was dead? Even if these evil cultivators had a demon on their side, it shouldn¡¯t have happened this way! Qiu Wei didn¡¯t seem overly strong, perhaps Zhuji stage, but she surely wouldn¡¯t have been able to perform this deed. Gradually, he began to feel more and more anxious, a chilly sensation stretching through his limbs. Could it be¡ that his earlier fears had been true?
The fact of Qin-zongzhu¡¯s death alone shocked him enough that he almost didn¡¯t notice Qin Wenying¡¯s harsh words towards Song Mingzhen, nor the weight of resentment they carried. Ning Jianlin, however, frowned deeply.
¡°Qin-gongzi, Song-gongzi came to us in a time of vital need. Though the cost of this battle was great, we nonetheless prevailed and drove them back, and for that, we must thank him. Your father would not like to hear that you are laying the blame upon the shoulders of the one who came to help us,¡± he rebuked the man.
Song Mingzhen¡¯s gaze turned toward Qin Wenying, mild and unruffled by the man¡¯s bitterness. However, despite Ning Jianlin¡¯s rebuke, the gold-clad youth nonetheless bowed his head. ¡°The loss of Qin-zongzhu is a great loss for the entire world,¡± he replied. ¡°I will speak to my father¡ª surely, he will provide whatever support and assistance he can to ease Qin-gongzi¡¯s troubles.¡±
He was neither angry, nor was he resentful of the implications of Qin Wenying¡¯s words¡ª and the Qin clan¡¯s young master also seemed to accept this proposition. Then, Song Mingzhen turned toward Ning Feiyun once more, brow lightly creased with concern.
¡°Ning-san-gongzi, your injuries have yet to heal. You should go to the physicians to have them treated, and allow them to recover.¡±
Ning Jianlin agreed with him, and Ning Feiyun was sent to one of the few undamaged workshops, where the mountain¡¯s physicians were treating those that had been wounded in the attack. Some of the wounds seemed a little strange, with a faint crimson spiritual light around the edges and an ominous aura surrounding the one who was wounded. When Ning Feiyun asked about these wounds, he learned that these individuals had been cut by that ¡°demon¡¯s¡± blood-forged blades. Many of the wounds weren¡¯t too serious, though, and with the right treatment they ought to heal quickly. As for Ning Feiyun¡¯s own injuries, they would surely heal completely within the next few days.
The battle was done, the invasion had been thwarted. Qin-zongzhu¡¯s death was a terrible tragedy, and there was still the matter of the escaped rogue cultivators, but for now it seemed the worst had passed.
Then, three days later, all those who had been wounded by the demon¡¯s blades died, all at once. Their wounds hadn¡¯t shown much sign of improving, but their condition also hadn¡¯t worsened in that time¡ª and then, it was as though there was still a knife plunged into their body, and that said knife was twisted, the wounds opening and spilling forth blood and vital qi until the wounded died in agony, screams echoing across the mountain.
It was then that the powers of the Xuelian Twin Blades had been realized¡ª and then, too, that they realized that the ¡°demon¡± had not been killed along with Qin Wenying¡¯s father, but had, in fact, escaped to begin a reign of terror.
After that day, the entire cultivation world was plunged into two years of bitter conflict, then five more of wariness and reconstruction¡ but since then, that demon¡ª the Great General of the Nameless, Mo Yuan¡ª had not reappeared, nor had his terrible blood-forged vital weapon struck again.
In the present day, Ning Feiyun watched Song Mingzhen round the corner and disappear, half-stumbling and in a daze. Then, he glanced once more toward Ning Zhifeng¡¯s cell before he too turned to leave. When he neared the entrance to the mountain prison, however, he turned off to one side, following another set of corridors to the prison¡¯s medical ward.
He had seen something during that battle in the snow-covered valley, something that had greatly disturbed him.
During the course of the war, he had met Song Mingzhen several more times, including on the battlefield. His demeanor was just the same as it had been their first meeting¡ª confident and mature, steady in his ways, serious yet still warm, someone who embodied righteousness from the very first glance. His style of fighting, too, was that way. Precise, elegant, confident, a flawless example of Ruijian Pavilion¡¯s famous swordsmanship.
When he fought Ning Zhifeng¡¯s group in the mountains, though, Song Mingzhen had shown little to none of that same effortless precision. Instead, he¡¯d fought viciously and opportunistically, the movements of blade and body lacking that harmony he had been known for before.
There was something else, too. Something even more distinctive and ominous.
Ning Feiyun arrived at the medical ward, where he was granted entry and swiftly asked to be taken to see the new prisoner, the girl from the valley.
¡°I¡¯m afraid if you wish to interrogate her, she has not yet awoken,¡± the physician explained, but Ning Feiyun didn¡¯t mind, only asking for the dressing to be taken away from the girl¡¯s wound so he could have a look at it. When his gaze fell upon torn, damaged skin, his brow furrowed.
It was barely perceptible. Had he not been looking for it, had he not caught sight of that flash of light during the battle, he almost certainly wouldn¡¯t have noticed it now¡ª but it was still unmistakable. Glimmering faintly at the edges of the wound, barely distinguishable from mere reflection of the light, was a lingering flicker of crimson. It was so faint, so slight that one wouldn¡¯t recognize it as the trace of the Xuelian twin blades¡¯ power unless they already had some suspicion.
Ning Feiyun had thought that Song Mingzhen was acting a bit strange ever since they had reunited for the first time since the war. That feeling had only grown as time passed, an uneasy sense of wrongness and discomfort in the pit of his stomach, but he still hadn¡¯t been able to place exactly what was off about it.
This Song Mingzhen was calculating, he was unsteady at times, and he wasn¡¯t afraid to be a little bit vicious. He questioned the clans and their leaders, showed sympathy to their enemies, and willingly executed clandestine movements such as their breaking into the prison without any pushback.
The Song Mingzhen that Ning Feiyun had met during the war wouldn¡¯t have done any of those things.
Song Mingzhen wasn¡¯t acting like Song Mingzhen at all¡ª but he¡¯d still seemed familiar all this time. Now, Ning Feiyun understood. It wasn¡¯t merely that he wasn¡¯t behaving like himself that had him so taken aback.
It was that ¡°Song Mingzhen¡± was acting more like Mo Yuan.
Deepening Ties
Song Mingzhen had been pacing back and forth across the floor of his guest house ever since he returned. His mind was whirling with ten thousand questions. The rogue cultivators had been caught, but all that came of that was more confusion, more uncertainty. That prickling sense of unease at the back of his neck that had plagued him since his arrival was stronger than ever.
Though the case would no doubt be considered closed now, the matter over and done with, the perpetrators caught and punished, he had a feeling that all of this was far from over.
At least where he was concerned.
He knew that he ought to go see Yan¡¯er, to find out if what Ning Zhifeng was saying was true.
The thought of doing so, though, made him feel nearly paralyzed with fear¡ª the willpower to overcome which would be equal to willingly plunging one¡¯s own hand into a blazing furnace.
He recalled the moment those glistening crimson blades burst from his body. Up until now, every step has been a struggle¡ª whether cultivation, swordsmanship, or interpersonal interaction, none of it had come easily. He had assumed it was simply a side effect of his injuries, long recovery, and memory loss. In that moment, though, releasing the crimson blades had taken no effort whatsoever, and they reacted to him as if on a single thought.
Not only that¡ but he felt as though he had used this power countless times before.
It was all rather frightening.
He hardly dared to think of the implications. If he were to find the traces of that weapon upon Yan¡¯er¡¯s wounds, then there were only two possibilities¡ª one, that he had used the power of one of the great demonic tools to cut down his foe, or the other¡
Song Mingzhen¡¯s head snapped to the side, and he almost felt as though he¡¯d been struck.
No.
There was no other option.
More than anything right now, he wished to just leave all of this behind and return to Ruijian Pavilion. He wished to get back to the life he¡¯d begun to make for himself, the routine he¡¯d set up and the hobbies he¡¯d begun to dabble in. Questions of strange powers and blurry, uncertain identity be damned¡ª he just wanted to put it all out of his mind.
No matter how much he might want that, though, he knew that the these questions would continue to haunt him until he found the answer.
It was just that¡ he wasn¡¯t quite ready to confront it. Each time he made his way toward the door, his steps recoiled involuntarily, his legs refusing to carry him back toward the mountain prison. Pacing across the floor of his room was doing little good either. Eventually, he told himself that he would simply be going outside to have a walk, a bit of fresh air. With that intention in mind, he was able to cross the threshold.
The trampled-down snow crunched beneath his feet. Late afternoon sun set it aglow in a rosy golden hue, reflecting off snow and structures alike. In the sky above and around, clouds rolled by in the brisk breeze, which ruffled Song Mingzhen¡¯s hair and clothes as he gazed across the landscape and took in a long, slow, steadying breath.
He hadn¡¯t been in Yinshan that long, and yet¡ it felt as though everything had changed.
If it turned out that Ning Zhifeng¡¯s theory was true after all, how would he be able to go home and face his father? Or did Song Weicheng already know all of this?
Song Mingzhen doubted it. Surely, his father wouldn¡¯t have kept something so important from him, especially before sending him out on a mission like this.
He closed his eyes briefly as his breath condensed into plumes of steam in the cold air.
Either way, he needed to find out the truth about all of this first. As much as his mind screamed at him to turn away, to not look for answers, he knew he wouldn¡¯t be able to move on with his life until he had them.
Strengthening his resolve, he headed to the back of the mountain¡ª but before he could reach the entrance to the spirit caves, a small figure clad in white caught his eye. It was the Qin clan¡¯s young master, Qin Rui. He was seated in lotus position atop the stone where Song Mingzhen and Ning Feiyun had sat a few days ago, before departing on their search through the mountains. The boy¡¯s brow was furrowed, his expression a bit troubled. It appeared as though he were trying to meditate, but having some difficulty.
Song Mingzhen vaguely recalled meeting the boy on the day he first arrived here. He¡¯d already seemed serious beyond his years, and in this case too he was diligently practicing his cultivation. He didn¡¯t have much of a spiritual aura, though¡ª Song Mingzhen wondered whether he¡¯d even managed to open his spiritual eye. Fortunately, as the heir to one of the great clans, he would no doubt receive every bit of support and resources he needed for success in both life and cultivation.
Once more, Song Mingzhen thought of Yan¡¯er, the girl who had seen her family slaughtered before her eyes, whose only dream was vengeance in their name. She was just a little older than Qin Rui, but her skills were already quite good¡ vengeance really could be a powerful, though volatile, motivator. Would Qin Rui now also be driven by such things, after his father¡¯s death?
And what of those youths he¡¯d left behind in Anfeng City, whose potential posed a danger to them, while it would be praised in someone like Qin Rui?
Song Mingzhen hadn¡¯t thought about them much since he left for Yinshan. It was no use worrying, after all, especially when he had so many questions and uncertainties facing himself here. He only hoped that the talismans he¡¯d given them were doing their job, keeping their blossoming talent hidden from the eyes of those who might wish to see it wither away.
How the circumstances of one¡¯s birth could define every aspect of their life¡ whether the cultivation world or mortal society, it was all just the same. He shook his head, reaching up to rub at his temples. Must things truly be this way?
It seemed he had lingered here too long. Qin Rui had noticed his presence, opening his eyes and climbing down from the rock to greet him.
The boy was out here alone, without even any servants or companions with him¡ just as he¡¯d been up on the roof that night. He must be the sort to seek out solitude, Song Mingzhen thought. He returned the greeting and glanced back toward the city.
¡°Qin-gongzi is alone,¡± he noted. ¡°I suppose you came out here without notifying anyone?¡±
With all that had happened recently, even though Ning Zhifeng was already imprisoned, Song Mingzhen doubted that the young master would have been permitted to visit the back of the mountain without even a single guard to keep watch.
Qin Rui glanced down toward his feet. ¡°It¡¯s difficult to focus when others are around,¡± he said. ¡°I can¡¯t make much progress that way.¡±
¡°You¡¯re still young, there¡¯s plenty of time. It will still be a few years before you are old enough to become clan leader,¡± Song Mingzhen replied. ¡°Even though the evildoers have been caught, it still isn¡¯t good to be out here unaccompanied.¡±
The boy seemed a little conflicted, glancing up toward Song Mingzhen, then back down. It was as if he wanted to say something, yet still felt too unsure. Song Mingzhen placed a hand upon his shoulder and guided him back toward the stone, then sat down next to him.
¡°You seem troubled. Cultivation ought to be approached from a place of calm and stability. First, clear your mind and settle yourself,¡± he advised, ¡°then, it may become easier to allow heaven and earth to flow through you.¡±
Qin Rui nodded his head, though he didn¡¯t seem any less troubled than before. Song Mingzhen just sat there next to him, waiting quietly until the boy was ready to speak.
¡°My father didn¡¯t usually have time to teach me.¡±
There it was.
¡°Is that so?¡± Song Mingzhen asked, inclining his head to one side.
¡°He was busy a lot¡ or doing something else. He said the same thing, that I would have plenty of time, and that I should just go out and enjoy my youth,¡± Qin Rui continued, sighing as he bent over, resting his chin in his hands. ¡°Now¡ he isn¡¯t here at all.¡±
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Song Mingzhen didn¡¯t know exactly how to answer this¡ª after all, he¡¯d never been in this sort of situation himself. Though he couldn¡¯t remember it now, his father had personally taught him and guided him to success at a young age. Still¡ at least now he had a bit of insight into the kind of person Qin Wenying was¡
Not that it truly mattered anymore. The questions he had now were far more personal than the ones he had arrived with.
¡°Qin-gongzi hardly needs to worry,¡± he replied, trying to sound both cheerful and understanding but ultimately coming across a little flat. ¡°There are many people who will help you should you need it¡ª your uncle, for example, and your mother as well.¡±
¡°A-Rui!¡±
As though speaking of her had summoned her, Song Mingzhen glanced up to see the tall figure of Ning Xuemin approaching through the trees. She was a bit more relaxed than before, but still carried herself with a cool elegance that perfectly matched the snow-covered landscape.
¡°There you are¡ª ah, Song-gongzi is here as well.¡± She inclined her head slightly upon seeing him. ¡°Forgive me if A-Rui caused any trouble. He has a tendency to wander.¡±
¡°I¡¯ve noticed,¡± Song Mingzhen replied. ¡°It¡¯s no trouble, though. I simply happened to cross paths with Qin-gongzi during my own wanderings.¡±
Ning Xuemin sent the boy back to Baiyu Palace, accompanied by the servant she had brought with her, then glanced at Song Mingzhen. ¡°I assume he was attempting to cultivate?¡±
Song Mingzhen nodded his head. ¡°Indeed. Qin-furen ought to be pleased with his diligence.¡±
¡°It¡¯s certainly better than his father¡¯s mindset,¡± Ning Xuemin replied with a sigh.
¡°Ah¡ I don¡¯t mean to pry,¡± Song Mingzhen began¡ª it was a lie, of course, he very much did intend to pry¡ª ¡°but Qin-gongzi mentioned that his father did not teach him very often.¡±
Ning Xuemin glanced at him, seeming to weigh her words in her mind for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s no secret in Baidong Mountain that my late husband and I did not get along well. Our marriage was arranged when there was some unrest between our families, in order to strengthen the bonds between the two clans. Of course¡ my husband put it off as long as he reasonably could, and even after we were married he had little interest in starting a family. After Baidong Mountain was attacked during the war and he became clan leader, I thought that he might change for A-Rui¡¯s sake.¡±
She shook her head, glancing out across the cloud-capped mountains beyond the cliff¡¯s edge.
¡°He was at Baiyu Palace more often than before, but¡ he still placed too great of an importance upon those mortal pleasures he was so fond of.¡±
Song Mingzhen held back a bit of a snort. She was restraining herself, but¡ there was a note of bitterness in her voice that gave away more than her words did. ¡°Do you mean¡ that Yang-xiaoniang?¡±
Ning Xuemin didn¡¯t respond, but her expression shifted a bit.
While it wasn¡¯t unheard of by any means, it wasn¡¯t particularly common for the leaders of the great cultivation clans to take concubines, unless it were a matter of securing a line of inheritance. After all, clan leaders were the ones best positioned to ascend to the immortal realm¡ª as such, it was better to have few ties to the mortal world. Especially in Yang Anxiang¡¯s case, everything pointed to Qin Wenying¡¯s taking her into his house for no purpose other than passion. Between what Ning Xuemin, Ning Feiyun, and Qin Rui had said¡ not to mention the lack of a backlash from his death, it seemed that Qin Wenying was someone who chased his own pleasures, rather than following convention and practicing cultivation.
It was no wonder, really, that Ning Xuemin had fallen under suspicion after his and Yang Anxiang¡¯s deaths. Song Mingzhen himself wondered if she might have had a hand in it¡ especially since he wasn¡¯t quite confident that the matter was resolved with Ning Zhifeng¡¯s capture.
¡°Even now, I don¡¯t understand Yang-xiaoniang¡¯s intentions,¡± Ning Xuemin finally spoke up, shaking her head. ¡°My husband¡ he was often the one chasing others, yet this time, she was chasing him. Even though her reputation wasn¡¯t that good, and I and others advised him against it, he ignored that advice.¡±
¡°Her reputation?¡± Song Mingzhen frowned. He¡¯d noticed that people didn¡¯t speak much about Yang Anxiang, even after her death¡ª but he hadn¡¯t thought to ask why.
¡°It was said that she had once been involved with the Nameless,¡± Ning Xuemin replied, lowering her voice to a whisper. ¡°My husband hardly seemed to care. She captured his interest in a single night, and became his concubine not long after. He paid quite a lot of attention to her for these past few years¡¡±
Song Mingzhen¡¯s breath caught in his throat, his eyes going wide. He swallowed hard. ¡°Yang Anxiang¡ was involved with the Nameless?¡± he asked, desperately trying to restrain his shock. ¡°In what way?¡±
Ning Xuemin glanced this way and that. ¡°I can¡¯t say anything with certainty¡ª but there were rumors. She disappeared for awhile, shortly before the war, only to return to her family¡¯s home after it ended. The Yang clan denied it publicly, of course, but many thought that she was among those young cultivators from prominent families that went off to join the uprising during the early days of the war. Of course¡ it matters little now.¡±
On the contrary, it actually mattered quite a lot. Song Mingzhen had thought it strange that she¡¯d had him visit her, warning him of secrets and threats, and then ended up dead within a matter of days. He¡¯d wondered how these things were connected¡ª but if Yang Anxiang had a history with the Nameless, then¡ she might have been even more deeply embroiled in it than he thought. He remembered the way that Ning Zhifeng had been silenced. Was he threatened in the same way that she had been?
He wasn¡¯t about to bring this up to Ning Xuemin, though. He¡¯d not spoken to anyone of his meeting Yang Anxiang, nor did he particularly want to mention what had happened with Ning Zhifeng. All of this was far too confusing¡ he¡¯d rather know more about it before bringing it up.
¡°I see,¡± he replied, nodding his head. ¡°It was only a rumor, then.¡±
¡°I worried that she had approached my husband with ill intent,¡± Ning Xuemin admitted, ¡°but in the end¡ she followed him into the underworld. Perhaps that silly girl truly had fallen in love¡¡± She shook her head, then glanced up. ¡°Ah¡ I¡¯ve already taken up too much of your time. I won¡¯t trouble you any further, Song-gongzi.¡±
The way she spoke, it sounded as though she found it difficult to believe that anyone would actually fall in love with Qin Wenying. Her opinion of her husband must truly be quite bad, for even her veiled comments to be so uncomplimentary of him. Though she likely wasn¡¯t the only one with that opinion. Few that Song Mingzhen had met showed anything more than perfunctory grief toward Qin Wenying¡¯s death, and fewer had anything good to say about him.
He was beginning to think that Yinshan might even be better off now, with Ning Jianlin managing its affairs.
Idly, he wondered just how many others thought the same.
Ning Xuemin returned to Baiyu Palace, leaving Song Mingzhen standing amid the grove of trees, mulling over what he¡¯d just learned. Yet another puzzle, yet another thread he couldn¡¯t quite place. He wondered whether there was more to learn from Ning Zhifeng¡ whether he knew something about Yang Anxiang, whether he was truly the one behind this, or whether they had both been tangled up in some wider plan. If that was the case¡ if there was even a slight possibility of that¡
Then he ought to at least tell Ning Feiyun about it.
As if on cue, Ning Feiyun himself came walking up the path from the spirit caves. He was walking rather briskly, his head down, a stormy expression on his brow. Song Mingzhen recalled the way he had hurried away from the prison earlier. Ning Feiyun was just now returning. What had he been up to?
Song Mingzhen felt a little bit anxious, but brushed that feeling aside and hurried down the path to meet up with Ning Feiyun. Yes¡ he really should have mentioned all of this sooner, but it¡¯s better now than never.
¡°Ning-xiong,¡± he called out, falling into step beside Ning Feiyun. ¡°There is something I need to tell you.¡±
Ning Feiyun, though, put up a hand to silence him. ¡°Not now.¡±
His voice was cold as ice, stiff and unyielding as stone. Song Mingzhen¡¯s eyes widened and he took a step back, momentarily stunned. What¡ was this? He¡¯d thought that he and Ning Feiyun were actually getting along lately, now he seems more upset than ever. ¡°Is there¡ something wrong?¡± he asked, then bit his lip. ¡°Have I offended you in some way?¡±
He didn¡¯t get an answer immediately. Ning Feiyun¡¯s jaw was tightly clenched, and he refused to look Song Mingzhen in the eye. He was clearly upset by something, but Song Mingzhen had no idea what it could be¡ had he gone in to interrogate Ning Zhifeng? Had the defector told him all of the things he¡¯d told Song Mingzhen?
No¡ that didn¡¯t make any sense. Ning Zhifeng had asked to speak to him alone, after all. So¡ what had happened?
Ning Feiyun, though, wasn¡¯t going to give him an answer. He simply sighed and shook his head. ¡°No,¡± he answered, ¡°You¡¯ve done nothing wrong. I¡¯m only¡ a bit tired, and my injuries have yet to heal. I¡¯m going to rest¡ª you ought to do the same. You seemed rather distressed earlier.¡±
With that, he simply continued onward without another word, head down, brow furrowed.
Song Mingzhen stayed where he was, watching him go with confusion written all over his face.
Was that¡ really all this was?
He was worried now.
Without Ning Feiyun, though, he wouldn¡¯t be able to gain entry to the mountain prison, so there really wasn¡¯t much more for him to do. After standing there for a little while longer, he began to feel the chill of the winter air, and returned once more to his guest house.
As he crossed the threshold, he felt a creeping sensation, as though he were being watched¡ª but a sweep of the house with his senses revealed nothing out of the ordinary. He paced the floor again for awhile, then picked up a mirror and gazed into it. His face seemed a bit thin and pale, and there were dark patches beneath his eyes. He turned his head one way, then the other. No matter how he looked at it, he could only just recognize himself. Though he knew that the face looking back at him was his own, he still had to reach up to touch his own cheek to be sure.
It was all so uncanny.
Every day brought more questions than answers, and though he¡¯d picked up countless threads, they still remained a tangled, confusing mess.
He flopped down onto the bed, shutting his eyes and sighing heavily. That headache was coming back again, throbbing behind his eyes. He couldn¡¯t go a single day without it flaring up again. Even if he did go to see Yan¡¯er, would he find any answers? Or just more questions?
Question after question after question¡
He groaned, kneading at his brow with the heels of his hands. It wasn¡¯t as though he could just forget all these questions and move on. He was at the center of all these tangled threads, unable to escape until the mysteries were unraveled.
It was exhausting.
Right now, he just wanted to sleep. He wondered if he would¡¯ve been better off just staying unconscious¡ all these things started happening just as soon as he woke up, after all.
Surely, things hadn¡¯t been this confusing before, had they?
As he lay there turning these things over and over in his mind, he heard a faint rustling noise near the door. Immediately, he sat bolt upright and got to his feet¡ª just in time to see a folded piece of paper slip under his door.
Shadows and Tricks
Song Mingzhen stared at the paper on the ground for a moment. A haunting sense of familiarity filled him, chilling him to the bone. He could sense no one outside, nor could he hear the sound of footsteps, even though the one who left the paper should still be here. Once more, his senses were obscured¡ just as they had been before.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he crossed the room to pick up the slip of paper, carefully unfolding it.
Just as before, it appeared blank at first. Just as before, when he applied a bit of spiritual energy, the characters written there gradually began to appear.
If you seek the answers to your questions, return now to the place where the crimson blades reawakened. There, you will find the truth.
It was the same handwriting as before, too.
Without a doubt, this letter was written by the same person who had left the others¡ a person who had already died. At least, that was what everyone had been led to believe.
Song Mingzhen¡¯s heart began to beat faster, and his hands trembled as they held the letter, the paper crinkling slightly in his grasp.
Yang Anxiang¡ she must still be alive.
She was alive, and somehow, she knew what had happened in the valley that day. She knew about the strange power that had awakened within him. Had she been there then, just watching the whole time? It wouldn¡¯t be that surprising, since she¡¯d done the same while he cultivated at the back of the mountain that night. So much had been happening in those moments that Song Mingzhen could have easily failed to notice her presence, since she hadn¡¯t been directly involved with the skirmish.
Just what exactly was her role in all of this?
Ning Xuemin¡¯s words rang in his ears. Yang Anxiang had been involved with the Nameless¡ could it be that she hadn¡¯t been threatened at all?
Maybe they had been working hand in hand the entire time.
Whatever the circumstances were, this couldn¡¯t be ignored. Whether about Yang Anxiang or about his own strange power and the questions that plagued him, if this note led to an answer, he had to follow its instructions. No matter if there really was nothing to find, he still couldn¡¯t take the chance and allow it to slip by.
He had to go back to the valley.
A sense of urgency bubbled up within him, rising until it boiled over. He immediately turned toward the door, flinging it open and rushing out into the night. He didn¡¯t give it much thought¡ª all he knew was that he had to make it to the valley, he had to find the answers to his questions.
He didn¡¯t get very far, though. Before he could even leave the village, he sensed someone approaching¡ª there was no killing intent, but the approach was too rapid to avoid. Fingers caught around his wrist, pulling him aside into the space between two buildings. Before he could summon up the power to resist, his back was slammed against the stone wall and his arms pinned above his head. Before he had the chance to call out for help, a hand clapped tightly over his mouth.
¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going now?¡±
Song Mingzhen startled, eyes going wide. He made a noise of surprise behind the hand covering his mouth. Then, instinctively, he bit down. Hard.
Ning Feiyun¡ª for that was his attacker¡¯s identity¡ª yelped and withdrew his hand from Song Mingzhen¡¯s mouth. His other hand, however, remained firmly pinning his wrists against the wall. Ning Feiyun leaned in to hold him there, using his slight height advantage to bear down upon him and make it difficult to escape. The bite had done nothing to loosen his grip¡ª in fact, it almost seemed like Ning Feiyun had expected it.
¡°What are you doing? What is the meaning of this?¡± Song Mingzhen hissed out, irritation flashing through his eyes and across his features. He struggled against Ning Feiyun¡¯s grasp, but his opponent was by no means weak, and it wouldn¡¯t be so easy to get free. ¡°I don¡¯t recall being forbidden from going where I please.¡±
¡°Oh?¡± Ning Feiyun shot back, his voice a low whisper. ¡°I never said you could not go, I only asked where.¡±
¡°And why does that matter?¡± Song Mingzhen felt quite indignant now at this treatment, his eyes narrowing.
¡°As mountain patrol commander, I think it¡¯s well within my power to ask such questions. Especially considering the situation as of late.¡±
Song Mingzhen fell quiet. Ning Feiyun had a point¡ still, there was no reason he had to go about it all so violently! Dragging him off the street and pinning him against the wall like he was apprehending a common criminal, covering his mouth so he couldn¡¯t cry out, it was all unnecessary. Just because of that, Song Mingzhen stubbornly shut his mouth and refused to give an answer.
Come to think of it¡ why was Ning Feiyun out here in the middle of the night to catch him anyway?
¡°Were you waiting around to watch me? Am I some sort of criminal?¡± he asked, voice laced with indignation. ¡°Release me now and I won¡¯t mention this to anyone. I¡¯ve done nothing wrong, unless leaving my own lodgings has suddenly become a crime.¡±
Why did Ning Feiyun have it out for him now?
After another uncomfortable moment with the two glaring at one another, Ning Feiyun finally relented and released his grip on Song Mingzhen¡¯s wrists. They felt a little bruised now, and he frowned as he rubbed at them, shaking out his hands. He was about to make some kind of comment or retort on it, but Ning Feiyun spoke up and cut him off before he could.
¡°Who are you, really?¡±
Song Mingzhen¡¯s breath caught in his throat. His heart froze within his chest. ¡°I¡ can¡¯t say I know what you mean.¡±
What was this question? Had Ning Feiyun heard something strange? Had he gone back to speak to Ning Zhifeng, and had the man told him the same things he¡¯d told Song Mingzhen?
¡°Song-gongzi is a sword cultivator, wise for his age and well-mannered. He has the epitome of a gentleman¡¯s bearing, and every youth in the cultivation world aspires to emulate him,¡± Ning Feiyun continued. His voice grew quieter with practically every syllable he spoke. ¡°He is not someone who seeks out and targets the weak points of both friends and foes, who strikes first where it hurts most. He is not someone¡ who wields evil techniques and kills where he claimed his intention was to capture.¡±
He took a few steps away, still facing Song Mingzhen with one hand on the retracted Shuangci spear. At his side. There was a slight tremor in his shoulders, and he refused to meet the other man¡¯s gaze, instead staring at the wall behind his head. Ning Feiyun¡¯s emotions were written all over his face¡ª anger, fear, and confusion.
¡°The instability in your cultivation, that I can understand on account of your injury,¡± he said, ¡°but can a person truly change almost everything about themselves, just because of a bit of memory loss? Are you¡ are you truly Song Mingzhen? Or simply someone who wears his name?¡±
The chill within Song Mingzhen¡¯s heart spread out into his limbs. He should retort back, he should lash out, he should scold Ning Feiyun for questioning his very identity like this! And yet, his lips remained closed, the words sticking into his throat and refusing to leave it.
That was, of course¡ because Ning Feiyun had voiced the very question that had been buried deep within himself these past few months. Ever since he set foot outside his courtyard¡ no, ever since he regained consciousness, he felt as if he were wearing another¡¯s clothes, walking in another¡¯s footsteps, wielding another¡¯s sword. He hardly recognized his father, he didn¡¯t even recall his brother¡¯s existence. Each step he took felt more uncomfortable, more unnatural than the last. The only time he felt even somewhat at ease was when he was all on his own¡ or when he was behaving in a way decidedly unlike the persona of ¡°Song Mingzhen.¡±
Back in the spirit caves, Ning Feiyun had told him he seemed different, and in the end¡ he couldn¡¯t help but agree. Whenever he had tried to cultivate the Dao of the Sword, he came up against endless walls and bottlenecks, but when he took a step down another path the world opened before him. In a moment of crisis, he relied not on his own, on Song Mingzhen¡¯s techniques, but on a different combat style entirely, a dead man¡¯s vital weapon defending him instead of his own sword.
So much had changed. Whoever he may have once been, could he even say now that he was truly Song Mingzhen at all?
It was¡ a question that he wasn¡¯t sure how to answer.
He could only take a slow, shaky breath as he lifted his head to meet Ning Feiyun¡¯s gaze once more. ¡°I¡ don¡¯t know,¡± he whispered.
He should have protested, he should have argued, but the fact of the matter was that he¡ was tired of this. So he told the truth, and once he had, it suddenly became much easier to keep going.
¡°Since I first regained consciousness, I haven¡¯t been able to recall anything from my past. Those few memories that do appear within my thoughts or dreams from time to time are more confusing than they are helpful,¡± he admitted. He couldn¡¯t explain what happened in the valley, the power he¡¯d used or how he used it. Even thinking about those implications made his head start pounding and sent a wave of dizziness rushing through him. ¡°It¡¯s true, Ning-xiong¡ I can¡¯t say for sure who I really am. But¡ I would like to know the truth. That¡ that is why I left tonight. I was going to find it.¡±
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Ning Feiyun frowned, but moved his hand away from his spear. ¡°The truth?¡± he asked, ¡°And where are you planning to find that?¡±
Song Mingzhen reached into his sleeve to take hold of the note, but hesitated before pulling it out. In the end, though, hadn¡¯t he planned to tell Ning Feiyun about all of this anyway? The circumstances might have been different then, but¡ he really had no reason to keep this a secret. Especially now that Ning Feiyun had confronted him directly.
¡°I believe¡ that Yang Anxiang may still be alive.¡±
¡°Yang Anxiang¡ but how?¡± Ning Feiyun asked, eyes narrowing. ¡°Her body was found beneath the palace walls, and has already been buried.¡±
¡°I¡¯m not sure how,¡± Song Mingzhen shook his head, ¡°but look at this.¡±
He took out the paper, channeled a bit of spiritual power into it until the writing reappeared, and then handed it to Ning Feiyun.
Ning Feiyun took the note, his gaze skimming across it before he looked up once more. ¡°How do you know this was sent by Yang Anxiang?¡±
¡°This¡ is not the first time she has contacted me.¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°The night I arrived in Yinshang, Yang-xiaoniang left a message for me in the exact same way. The handwriting is hers, without a doubt. I met her at the back of the mountain that night.¡±
He went on to explain the warnings she had given him, the information she had revealed, and the suspicion she had cast upon those around her. He recounted the second message she had sent the night before her apparent ¡°death,¡± what Ning Xuemin had told him about her rumored past, and finally the surprising appearance of another message tonight.
Ning Feiyun listened in silence, his expression shifting and changing from confusion, to anger, to hurt, and back. Once the other finished speaking, he stood for awhile, staring at the paper, then down at the ground, before finally looking back up to fix the man before him with a hard, steel-sharp glare.
¡°Why have you not mentioned any of this before?¡± he asked.
¡°At the time,¡± Song Mingzhen replied, slowly, ¡°I was under the impression that she was in danger¡ª and also, she had placed her trust in me. I thought she must have come to me instead of your clan for a reason, and I did not wish to break her trust. I did not know of her connection to the Nameless, or that she may have been anything more than a victim of all of this.¡±
Ning Feiyun still seemed a bit upset, but he just shook his head. ¡°I see.¡±
He crumbled the paper in his hand into a ball and tucked it away inside his collars. Then, he suddenly summoned his spear to his hand¡ª and Song Mingzhen¡¯s eyes went wide. He hurriedly backed away, raising his hand in front of him with a half-formed seal. Ning Feiyun, however, did not strike out at him. Instead, he just gave Song Mingzhen a bit of an odd look.
¡°Well?¡± he asked.
Song Mingzhen questioningly tilted his head to the side.
Ning Feiyun gestured toward the sea of clouds beyond the mountain peak. ¡°The note tells you where to go for answers. I¡¯m just as interested as you are in finding them¡ª it¡¯s the valley where we fought my former commander, right? We should get going.¡±
Oh. Well, that was a little embarrassing. Song Mingzhen had really thought that Ning Feiyun was about to attack him. But¡ at the same time, he hesitated. He was anxious enough about going out on his own, but depending on what this ¡°truth¡± was, could he truly trust Ning Feiyun to learn it alongside him? He didn¡¯t even know how he would react, let alone someone else¡ if there even was a truth to be found. There was still a possibility that it was all no more than a trap.
A hand reached out to catch hold of his arm¡ª the touch wasn¡¯t sharp and abrupt this time, though, but instead it was steadying, reassuring. He raised his gaze to meet Ning Feiyun¡¯s once again.
¡°You and I both want to know the truth,¡± Ning Feiyun said, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°About these past few months¡ about you, and what happened to you. Besides that, you shouldn¡¯t go alone. If the sender wishes to deal you harm, you would do well to have someone by your side, guarding your back. Please¡ you are not the only one with questions.¡±
There was something in the other man¡¯s voice that gave him pause. He swallowed at the lump that had begun to form in his throat.
¡°And what if¡ what if learning the truth reveals things that would be better left buried?¡±
Those answers, those memories that lingered just at the cusp of his awareness, tainting his thoughts and his actions, tormenting him equally whether they were known or remained unknown¡ with each day that passed, they seemed to grow stronger, the shadows lengthening and crossing over one another, overlapping over him until he could hardly tell where he ended and they began. With the emergence of the crimson blades, the ignition of a power within him that felt simultaneously strange yet familiar fueled the flames that threatened to consume his remaining sanity.
Ning Feiyun¡¯s hand on his arm was warm against the cold winds that whistled across the mountaintop. Steady and calm against the storm that whirled within his mind. Almost subconsciously, he reached out his own hand to place it over Ning Feiyun¡¯s. He felt the warmth beneath his palm, the pulse rippling beneath the other¡¯s skin tying him down like an anchor.
¡°If the truth really is such a dangerous, terrible thing, then we will face it when it reveals itself,¡± Ning Feiyun said. ¡°Now, let us go. Let¡¯s put an end to all these questions. Isn¡¯t that why you came here to begin with?¡±
With a sigh, Song Mingzhen nodded his head. ¡°Yes, it is.¡±
The Chengxiao sword hung in its scabbard at his side. Once more, it did not even tremble when he attempted to to summon it. Ning Feiyun glanced down at the seal he formed with his fingers, saw the lack of response, then reached out his hand again.
¡°You¡¯ve been having trouble with your sword,¡± he noted. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be good if you lost control while we were flying. Come along with me again.¡±
Not once had the sword obeyed his command since the crimson blades awoke. The implications of that fact made him feel rather nauseous, and thinking about how they might be close to uncovering what lay behind the shadows and the flames made him want to turn around and flee.
He took Ning Feiyun¡¯s hand, and they rose up into the sky.
It was too late now to turn back. It was either go forward, or remain trapped and tormented by confusion.
The Shuangci spear cut easily through sheets of icy cloud, crystalline vapors shattering around them as they shot across the night sky. Stars above, mountains below, and clouds all around, a hundred li of mountains passed beneath them in hardly a few moments¡¯ flight, and they landed back in that quiet, blood-stained valley.
It was time to put an end to all this.
The pair stood there near the frozen stream, listening to the breeze rattling through frost-covered branches, the soft crunch of snow beneath their feet. A faint glimmer of light shone within the thicket of trees, near the place where the fight had ended. Upon approach, it became clear that it was the figure of a young woman¡ª it was Yang Anxiang, standing with her back leaned up against the very tree where Ning Zhifeng had fallen. Seeing someone who was thought to be dead standing there before them was startling enough, but even though there was no ghostly qi that radiated from her, there was still something strange. The two drew their weapons as they drew near, but Yang Anxiang didn¡¯t react to them. She didn¡¯t even seem to notice them at all.
Before they could reach her, she vanished into thin air. Ning Feiyun startled, his back and shoulders stiffening as he swung his spear to check behind them. Song Mingzhen, however, broke into a jog and hurried to the base of the tree. Within his spiritual sense there were faint sparks glimmering, and when he bent down to the ground and brushed aside the snow, he found the ashes of a talisman that had been burned away.
A moment later, Yang Anxiang reappeared again, a few zhang further into the mountain¡¯s shadow.
¡°What¡ is this?¡± Ning Feiyun asked as he came to Song Mingzhen¡¯s side.
Song Mingzhen¡¯s eyes widened as he picked up a small fragment of the burned-away talisman.
¡°Illusions.¡±
He recalled the time he had met Yang Anxiang at the back of the mountain. The way she had remained concealed, not revealing herself until after Song Mingzhen had already figured out where she was hiding. He had thought before that perhaps she had obtained one of the Qin clan¡¯s concealment tools, but hadn¡¯t even considered another option¡ª that she cultivated the Dao of Illusion.
He already knew she was far more accomplished than she made herself out to be. Different cultivation paths had their own strengths and weaknesses¡ª but those who used illusions specialized in shaping stories and perceptions to their will. Concealing one¡¯s presence, donning and switching disguises, making those around them believe a lie¡ even though it was difficult to trick a cultivator¡¯s spiritual sense, most wouldn¡¯t think to question their eyes and their ears. An illusionist might have little power of their own, little combat prowess, and yet could still bring an army to their knees should their tricks be placed carefully enough.
The disappearance of the attackers in Anfeng City, the ability to enter a clan¡¯s stronghold and get close enough to slay the clan leader, to trick the guards and surveillance within the mountain prison¡ feats which seemed almost impossible were suddenly far more plausible if they were dealing with a master of illusion. This path was difficult to master, as many techniques required simultaneously a great strength as well as malleability of consciousness¡ª an illusionist would need to be able to convince themselves of their falsehood before they could trick the minds of others.
If this person had managed to make the fallen rogue cultivators disappear before his eyes back then, though¡ they were no small threat.
¡°What do we do now?¡± Ning Feiyun whispered.
¡°Follow them.¡±
The second illusion had appeared almost immediately after the first vanished. Once they stood up and turned toward it, this one too vanished, a third appearing further along. Beneath the snow, yet again, were the remains of a talisman¡ there was a trail here.
¡°They¡¯re leading us along,¡± he said. ¡°Whether it is truly Yang Anxiang or not, whether it is genuine or an attempt to deceive us, we won¡¯t learn anything unless we follow.¡±
One illusion after the next, they made their way through the trees, winding back and forth, all senses on the alert for any sign of ambush or any traps that might lie in wait. The path, however, remained clear, and the valley silent as they were led out from its mouth, further out toward the foothills and the plains beyond. They traveled some distance following the illusions. Gradually, the poses began to change, from standing idle, leaning up against trees or sitting on stones, to pointing them in the direction they ought to go. The illusory Yang Anxiang¡¯s expressions were flat and unreadable at first, but the further they went, the more her lips twitched into a coy smile, the more her eyes narrowed, the more she turned from calm and demure to cunning and mischievous. At last, they reached a small crevice between two cliffs, deep within the forest. One final illusion stood before it, a hand placed within the groove on the stone, a light shimmering beneath it.
Song Mingzhen and Ning Feiyun traded glances, then stepped forward. The illusion vanished, as did the light beneath its palm¡ª but the grooves in the stone remained. Song Mingzhen placed his hand there, summoning up a burst of spiritual power and sending it into the channels of the array he could feel beneath his fingertips. A series of inscriptions upon the stone lit up briefly, then it shifted aside to reveal a passage.
¡°Did you know about this?¡± he asked.
Ning Feiyun shook his head. ¡°No. I¡¯ve never seen this passage before.¡±
They paused for a moment. The path before them was darker than a night without stars, black as the depths of the sea. From within, there was a faint hum of spiritual power. Once more, they met each others¡¯ gaze. Ning Feiyun nodded his head. Song Mingzhen took a shaky breath, steadied himself, and then stepped forward.
As soon as both of their feet had crossed over the threshold, the stone behind them shook and rumbled, and the passage sealed closed, plunging them into total darkness.
The Precipice
The interior of the passage was darker than the blackest midnight. In the air hung a faint earthy aroma, and dampness clung to the walls. Aside from the occasional drip of water from the low ceiling and the ever-present hum in Song Mingzhen¡¯s spiritual sense, it was completely silent.
After the door shut behind them, the pair stood still for a moment, listening and watching, their weapons readied in case of a sudden attack. It seemed, however, that there was no intention to attack them here. Gradually, their stances eased, though their vigilance did not.
Neither dared speak, and Song Mingzhen reached for a light talisman only to hesitate. He could feel someone¡¯s presence deeper within the cave, and a passage winding downward until then, sinking into the mountain¡¯s base. Otherwise, though, it seemed they were alone. When even probing the surroundings for any gaps in his spiritual sense yielded nothing, Song Mingzhen ignited the talisman and shed light upon their surroundings.
The passage looked as if it were carved out of the rock and earth centuries ago and left abandoned until recently, the stone on either side rough and the ground thick with a layer of dust.
Though it seemed sound enough for now, it also wouldn¡¯t be that surprising if the walls or ceiling began to crumble. It would be best to tread carefully.
Ning Feiyun¡¯s gaze traversed the rough-carved walls, the dust on the ground where a few trails of identical footprints went in and out, up and down. He glanced up once he¡¯d finished his assessment and turned to Song Mingzhen, then spoke in a low whisper, ¡°I¡¯ve never seen this passage on any maps, nor does it look like one that the mountain patrol maintains. The footprints here, though¡ they¡¯re fresh. Some even from this very night, it seems. The one who left the instructions and illusions behind is no doubt waiting at the end of this passage.¡±
Before them, the narrow path stretched down into an abyss of hazy shadow that even the light of the talisman could not penetrate. A shiver ran down Song Mingzhen¡¯s spine, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling up. It felt unmistakably eerie, even though he knew it was most likely another illusion.
He didn¡¯t reveal that discomfort, though, and simply nodded his head. ¡°Good. Maybe now I¡¯ll finally learn what¡¯s been going on all this time.¡±
"We¡¯ll both learn,¡± Ning Feiyun agreed¡ª and the pair began their descent into the darkness.
The silence was a thick and heavy curtain, pierced only by the sound of their footfalls. There was an ache blooming deep within Song Mingzhen¡¯s body, as though a flame had been lit using his insides as kindling. He felt as though they¡¯d done this before, descending into a deep passage toward an unknown end¡ but when he tried to recall it, the memory felt obscured within a haze of mist¡
It was just like the memories of his past.
Eyes widening, he stopped in his tracks and turned toward his companion.
¡°Ning-xiong,¡± he whispered, ¡°Have you and I gone this way before?¡±
¡°This way?¡± Ning Feiyun frowned, then shook his head. ¡°No, not this way, but¡¡±
His voice cut off, and his face seemed to turn a shade paler.
¡°What is it?¡± Song Mingzhen asked.
A moment passed in silence, then Ning Feiyun shook his head again. ¡°I¡¯m not¡ certain. I can¡¯t recall clearly.¡±
Unease filled the air, and Song Mingzhen sucked in a breath. What was happening here?
Ning Feiyun turned back toward the path before them. ¡°Let¡¯s just go ahead. Whoever is behind all this, we¡¯ll get our answers there.¡±
His voice was even stiffer now than before, his shoulders tense, the grip on Shuangci¡¯s handle so tight that his knuckles had turned pale in the talisman¡¯s faintly flickering light. Song Mingzhen frowned, reaching up to press against an oncoming headache¡ª something he was, by now, more than used to dealing with. He¡¯d expected it to get worse the closer he came to answers, as though something within was preventing him from seeking the truth.
Now, though, it was as familiar as an old friend. He could push through the pain easily.
The opaque mist continued to obscure the path ahead, but each step they took forced it to retreat further, their presence breaking apart the illusion¡ª it didn¡¯t seem to be a particularly powerful one. The throbbing in Song Mingzhen¡¯s head only increased the further down they went, and his insides felt like they were turning somersaults, tossed about by a combination of anticipation and anxiety. To stand here upon the cusp of knowing, and yet to know that once the line was crossed he would be unable to return to ignorance¡ it was intimidating.
At last, the path leveled out, the walls opening up to a larger chamber. The last of that obscuring mist retreated, coalescing against the walls and dripping to pool upon the stone floor. Like rushing water, it flowed back toward the center of the room¡ª and there, it gathered and dispersed into the form of a young woman with a delicate figure, clothed all in black and seated in lotus position. Her back was facing them, dark hair woven in a loose plait that ran down her back as she sat upright. She did not turn to greet them, nor move from where she sat.
¡°So, you¡¯ve come after all,¡± she said¡ª and both Song Mingzhen and Ning Feiyun startled a bit, because it was without a doubt Yang Anxiang¡¯s voice that spoke, yet in a calm, self-assured way that neither of them had heard before. ¡°You arrived more quickly than I expected.¡±
Ning Feiyun opened his mouth to speak. ¡°Yang-xiaoniang¡ª¡±
¡°No need to call me that anymore, don¡¯t you think? After all, ¡®Yang Anxiang¡¯ is dead, remember?¡± she continued, and though her voice remained amicable, there was a faint undercurrent of bitterness running through it, twisting and intertwining with faint threads of satisfaction. ¡°I see you¡¯ve brought a friend with you, Jiangjun.¡±
¡°Jiangjun¡¡± Song Mingzhen whispered, his fingers turning tremulous. ¡°What¡ do you mean?¡±
Yang Anxiang snorted softly, and at last, she climbed to her feet, slowly turning her head. The person who stood before them now was entirely different from that pretty, flower-like maiden he¡¯d met at the back of the mountain. Her face was unpainted and her hair and figure unadorned by jewelry, and she carried herself with a cool confidence, the corner of her lip twisting slightly as she met his gaze.
¡°Interesting, isn¡¯t it? You didn¡¯t hesitate to answer to that title, even though ¡®you¡¯ have never borne it yourself¡¡± she murmured. ¡°Or¡ have you?¡±
Ning Feiyun¡¯s eyes flashed and he gripped his spear more tightly, raising it to point toward her. ¡°Enough,¡± he said, his voice sharp and commanding now. ¡°What is the meaning of all of this? If you lived, then who was it who died in your place? And what have you to do with my companion?¡±
Yang Anxiang smirked, raising a finger to tap it against her cheek and tilting her head slightly. ¡°Hmm¡ you know, you¡¯ve changed a lot since seven years ago, Ning-san-gongzi.¡±
¡°Seven¡ years¡¡± Once again, Ning Feiyun became agitated. ¡°What does that have to do with any of this? Moreso, what does it have to do with you?¡±
¡°Not much,¡± she shook her head, ¡°I was nothing more than a bystander at the time, after all¡ back then, you tried to make yourself seem like a threat, but didn¡¯t have the skills to hold your own. Now, it seems you really have become stronger. Look at you, actually speaking with authority!¡±
She flicked her fingers, and an illusory copy of her hand floated out, fingers brushing up against the side of Ning Feiyun¡¯s jaw.
Ning Feiyun reacted immediately, spinning Shuangci upward to pierce through and scatter the illusion.
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¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± he said, darkly, ¡°I suggest you stay quiet about whatever it is you think you know.¡±
Song Mingzhen glanced from one to the other, back and forth, his brow furrowing. Pain began to radiate between his temples once more, sharper than any he¡¯d felt so far to the point where he thought he might actually collapse to the ground¡ª but he remained standing. With some effort, he pushed through the pain, and extended his hand to block Ning Feiyun from approaching Yang Anxiang.
¡°It seems like you have secrets of your own, don¡¯t you, Ning-xiong?¡± he mused. His lips moved practically on their own, the syllables flowing off his tongue unrestrained. ¡°Actually, I¡¯m rather interested in what she has to say. That is¡ unless you want to tell me first?¡±
He had tried not to get angry or upset, he really did. It was just that¡ ever since he woke up with his own past obscured from him, few people have been willing to divulge anything beyond the most minimal information. It was frustrating to no end, and he¡¯d pushed aside that frustration for so long already¡ but now, the world around him felt like it was trembling, and within him the glow of crimson embers that had long seemed to be extinguished was flaring up once more.
On the precipice of finding the truth, how dare these two try to keep him from it?
¡°Enough secrets,¡± he said, glaring now toward Yang Anxiang. ¡°You¡¯ve called me here to tell me what all this is about, so do it¡ª first, why did you call me Jiangjun?¡±
¡°Hm¡ I thought I remembered you being more perceptive than this. Why do you think? It¡¯s because that¡¯s what you should be called¡ª after all, aren¡¯t you our own Great General?¡±
Song Mingzhen¡¯s eyes widened. The words pierced through him like blades through his chest. He¡¯d had his suspicions, but¡ he¡¯d purposefully ignored them until now. ¡°What?¡±
¡°You don¡¯t believe me?¡±
¡°I¡¡± he hesitated, his throat feeling tight.
Yang Anxiang raised a hand, and with a twist of her fingers like removing a cloth covering. Near the central platform, a small table appeared, upon which rested an incense burner. It was an ordinary-looking instrument, but there was still a faint sheen about it in Song Mingzhen¡¯s perception.
¡°I¡¯ve seen many things,¡± she said, ¡°and know even more. Things which the great clans¡ª and the one who claims to be your ¡®father¡¯¡ª wish to keep you from learning. Things which your companion would like to keep secret¡ I can reveal these things to you, if you¡¯d like.¡±
Ning Feiyun tensed. Song Mingzhen glanced toward him, then back toward Yang Anxiang.
¡°Your specialty is creating illusions,¡± he answered, stiffly, ¡°how could I trust anything that you were to show me?¡±
Yang Anxiang released a faint chuckle, shaking her head. ¡°Don¡¯t you wonder why I¡¯d go through all this trouble and risk for you? If I were trying to play a trick¡ I¡¯d hardly have led you all the way out here. Besides¡±¡ª she tapped the incense burner with the tips of her fingers¡ª ¡°this isn¡¯t an illusion or trickery. It¡¯s one of my clan¡¯s techniques, the Fragrance of Memory.¡±
The Yang clan from Xuanlin were medicine-makers, and Song Mingzhen recalled seeing a mention of this technique before. It was one used to draw up buried memories¡ a certain kind of incense created by a medicine cultivator, which would send someone into a vision of a specific time and place within their memory should they enter meditation after inhaling the smoke combined with an environmental trigger of some sort. Still¡
¡°Even if you say this, how could I trust you won¡¯t tamper with it, having me see whatever it is you want me to see instead?¡± he asked.
Ning Feiyun¡¯s shoulders became even stiffer, and he swallowed hard. ¡°Ge, I don¡¯t think we should¡¡±
¡°You just don¡¯t want him to know what you¡¯ve done, do you?¡± Yang Anxiang cut in before he could finish, voice as cold as ice. ¡°Even though he already knows. He only needs to remember.¡±
¡°How are you so certain?¡± Ning Feiyun shot back.
Yang Anxiang paused for a moment as though considering whether to answer, then crossed her arms. ¡°I have my ways¡ª but I can promise you, what I know is undeniably the truth.¡±
Ning Feiyun looked toward Song Mingzhen, still gripping his spear. He was beginning to look quite anxious, but Song Mingzhen couldn¡¯t tell whether it was about Yang Anxiang¡¯s intentions or the possibility of his own secrets being revealed.
It was difficult to tell Yang Anxiang¡¯s true intentions, but sending a message to summon him here was a significant risk, one that she could have easily avoided. Whatever she wanted him to see¡ whether it was the truth or a lie, he likely wasn¡¯t in any immediate danger.
And he was tired of secrets.
¡°Fine¡ I want to know,¡± he said, eyes narrowing. ¡°I want to know what you¡¯re hiding¡ª but even more than that, I can¡¯t help but be curious about why exactly you¡¯re so sure I¡¯m your old general.¡±
Yang Anxiang smirked, a hint of triumph flickering across her features. ¡°So, you¡¯ll have a look then? You know, the Fragrance of Memory can only show you the memories belonging to yourself¡ª so whatever you happen to see, it¡¯s surely something you¡¯ve experienced.¡±
¡°And I¡¯ll decide for myself whether I believe it,¡± he shot back.
She didn¡¯t seem too concerned by that and with a snap of her fingers, used her spiritual power to light the incense. Then, she stepped down from the platform, gesturing toward it. ¡°Go on,¡± she instructed. ¡°I can¡¯t say exactly what it will show you, but whatever you see should be enough to at least tell you who you truly are. The truth about the power you wield¡ even though I¡¯m not sure how strong the effects are, or if you¡¯ll be able to see the end of the war.¡±
¡°What do you mean?¡± he frowned, stepping up toward the platform despite Ning Feiyun¡¯s protest.
¡°I mean that your memories aren¡¯t intact¡ª and even those that are buried were not forgotten simply due to strain or trauma. I can¡¯t be sure how much the Fragrance of Memory will be able to draw up. Since you could conjure the Xuelian blades, though¡ it seems promising.¡±
Each of Yang Anxiang¡¯s explanations added more layers of confusion. This time, though, he didn¡¯t bother asking anything more and just took a seat on the stone platform.
¡°You shouldn¡¯t trust her!¡± Ning Feiyun admonished, stepping forward again.
Song Mingzhen held up a hand to tell him to stand back. His lips twisted into a half-bitter, half self-satisfied smirk. ¡°I don¡¯t trust her,¡± he said, ¡°but you¡¯re here too, right? I¡¯m sure you won¡¯t let her do anything to me.¡±
¡°Wait¡ª¡± Ning Feiyun began, but Yang Anxiang stepped between him and Song Mingzhen.
¡°Didn¡¯t you hear him?¡± she asked, ¡°He wants to know. Who are you to keep him from the truth?¡±
Ning Feiyun¡¯s face was pale, and he was still clearly anxious, but he didn¡¯t advance any further, the conflict raging beneath the thin veneer of his expression holding him back from either acting or stepping down.
Song Mingzhen¡¯s smirk widened even more as he fixed his gaze upon Ning Feiyun.
¡°If the truth really is such a dangerous, terrible thing, then we will face it when it reveals itself.¡±
Song Mingzhen couldn¡¯t help it now¡ª he himself felt as if he were about to fall from a precipice. No, it was like he was about to willingly leap into oblivion, to dive into the raging sea without knowing if he would ever resurface. Now that he¡¯d come so far, he really didn¡¯t know how he felt. The piercing headache that had plagued him all this time was more present than ever, yet he could barely feel it. He wondered if he were going mad¡ and decided that in the end, he didn¡¯t really care that much.
If he didn¡¯t go mad from this, then the mysteries themselves would drive him to it sooner or later.
Using Ning Feiyun¡¯s own words against him, he was teasing the other man just as much as he was trying to reassure him. Now that he knew he wasn¡¯t the only one here with secrets, he actually felt quite a bit less worried.
Ning Feiyun released a shaky breath and finally lowered his spear.
¡°Very well,¡± he said. ¡°If I can¡¯t stop you¡ then I¡¯ll at least make certain that she doesn¡¯t harm you.¡±
¡°Thank you.¡±
The smirk softened into a genuine smile, and he turned toward Yang Anxiang. ¡°Have I inhaled enough of the incense smoke?¡±
¡°Yes,¡± Yang Anxiang replied, nodding. ¡°It should take effect if you enter meditation now.¡±
¡°Good. Then, let¡¯s see what all this is really about.¡±
He took a deep breath, quelling as much of the nervousness as he could before closing his eyes. Almost as soon as he had entered meditation, his senses began to spin, his head feeling light and his body heavy as lead. The fragrance of the incense smoke mingled with the cool dampness of the cavern, the crumbling stone and faint scent of moss, and then suddenly he felt the gentle kiss of a cool, late-spring night breeze across his cheekbones.
He opened his eyes.
The scene before him was no longer the interior of an underground cavern. Instead, he found himself leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest, head tipped slightly back to gaze upward at the stars peeking through the leafy boughs.
At first, he tried to reach out and touch the tree behind him, or snag a leaf from one of the branches¡ª to prove that this wasn¡¯t simply an illusion¡ª but he quickly found that he could not move his body, or even turn his head. All he could do was watch, listen, and take in the scents in the air around him. He felt suddenly trapped and confined, and anxiety began to well up within him. Though he knew it would wear off with time, he wondered exactly how long that would take. Ning Feiyun wouldn¡¯t allow it to go on for too long, right?
He wouldn¡¯t end up trapped within his own mind while his body remained catatonic again, right?
It was a little too late to go back now, though. He¡¯d leapt into the flood-swollen river, and now could only follow it until its end.
Just as he was beginning to quell the rising panic, suddenly he heard the crunch of footsteps on leaves. Instinctively, he turned his head to look¡ª and the ¡°him¡± within this memory did the same, peering out from behind the tree.
Walking down a path through the trees, head turning from side to side, drawn spear held in one hand, was a younger Ning Feiyun, not yet so sure-footed or sharp as he now was.
¡°A-Qian!¡±
It was a strange sensation, feeling his lips move, hearing his own voice calling out¡ª and though he too sounded far younger, it was undeniably him. To feel his own legs moving, carrying him out from behind the shelter of the tree without even
But¡ who was A-Qian?
The answer came in an instant¡ª Ning Feiyun startled, spinning around to face him. Recognition flashed across his expression upon hearing the name. Could that be what he was called before coming to Yinshan, when he had still lived at Mengshan Temple?
It was the young Ning Feiyun¡¯s response, however, that struck like a bolt of lightning from the heavens, shattering both doubts and hopes alike.
¡°Mo Yuan¡ what are you doing here?¡±
River of Memory
Song Mingzhen felt like he was about to crumble to pieces. Could his own memories have somehow been mixed up with Mo Yuan¡¯s as well? How would he have ended up experiencing these memories as if they were his own? He still didn¡¯t want to believe what Yang Anxiang had told him, what even Ning Feiyun had wondered about. No matter how he tried to reason with this scenario, though, it didn¡¯t look good.
The memory continued to play out¡ª and despite his apprehensions, he could do nothing but continue to watch.
¡°Hush!¡± Mo Yuan hissed, beckoning Ning Feiyun into the shadow of the trees.
The other hesitated for a moment before giving in and approaching. Once both were concealed within the undergrowth, Ning Feiyun reiterated his question.
¡°What are you doing here? Don¡¯t you know you¡¯re still being hunted?¡± he asked. ¡°If you want to leave peacefully you ought to travel beyond the clans¡¯ reach.¡±
Mo Yuan didn¡¯t reply right away. His heart began to beat more quickly, and there was a momentary catch in his breath. He shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t do that¡ especially right now. I¡¯ve been waiting here for you. I need your help, A-Qian.¡±
It was a strange feeling. This was the man who would set the cultivation world ablaze¡ª and here he was, quietly pleading for help. He was trying hard to conceal his desperation, and yet unable to fully contain it. Here and there, traces of something akin to helplessness crept into his tone and body language.
Ning Feiyun, perceptive here as he was in the present, noticed it. Immediately, he softened a bit, taking a step forward to close the distance, the point of his spear turning down toward the ground. Not entirely unguarded, but no longer threatening.
¡°What do you need from me?¡± he asked. ¡°You know very well who I am now. If you wanted me to help you¡ then you should have asked before you¡¯d made a name for yourself.¡±
¡°A-Qian, please¡ª just listen to me first.¡±
Silence fell for a moment. Ning Feiyun sighed, and nodded his head. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll listen, this once.¡±
¡°I made a mistake,¡± Mo Yuan replied, ¡°I¡ need you to get me through Baidong Mountain¡¯s barrier.¡±
Ning Feiyun took a step back, his eyes flashing with alarm. ¡°What?¡±
¡°There¡¯s¡ something I need to do. It¡¯s a matter of life and death.¡±
¡°I can¡¯t just allow you inside!¡± Ning Feiyun hissed, his voice dropping into a whisper as though he feared being overheard by his father all the way atop the mountain. ¡°Out of all known rogue cultivators, you¡¯re one of those that the great clans wish most to apprehend!¡±
¡°A-Qian¡ you must listen.¡± Now, Mo Yuan¡¯s voice had dropped. The desperation that formerly clung to it was nowhere to be heard, though it still weighed heavily within his heart, crackling through his veins. His expression and demeanor, though, had shifted. Shoulders drawn back, chin slightly lifted, eyes flickering with a glimmer of challenge. ¡°I must get inside the barrier array. I can do so with your help, or I can do it on my own.¡±
¡°Why do you wish to provoke the great clans?¡± Ning Feiyun hissed, and though he tried to square up to Mo Yuan¡¯s challenge, it was clear that he was, in fact, intimidated by it. ¡°Doing this will only get you hurt at best. Just go.¡±
¡°I can¡¯t.¡±
¡°Why can¡¯t you?¡±
¡°¡ I can¡¯t tell you that,¡± Mo Yuan looked away once more.
Ning Feiyun looked somewhat torn. He was still rather young now, and it had only been a few years since he left Mengshan Temple. It seemed that he may have cared a little more for Mo Yuan than he wanted to let on.
¡°Please¡ let me help you,¡± Ning Feiyun said quietly. ¡°I can¡¯t let you through the barrier, but if you tell me what¡¯s troubling you perhaps I can find some other way to aid?¡±
¡°Not possible,¡± Mo Yuan shook his head. ¡°There¡ are some things I can¡¯t tell you. You¡¯re one of them now, after all. I didn¡¯t wish to interfere with your chosen path, but I had hoped that for the sake of our old friendship, you could allow me this much. Just this once.¡±
Ning Feiyun considered his words, then sighed heavily. ¡°The cultivation world might deem you a criminal and an evildoer¡ but you¡¯ve never been someone who sought to harm. Are you truly the one behind the recent attacks?¡±
Mo Yuan startled a little, but did not answer. He simply looked away.
¡°I see.¡± Ning Feiyun¡¯s voice sounded hollow. ¡°Dayuan¡¯s Song-zongzhu said that it was you and your followers that organized those raids. I didn¡¯t want to believe it, though. If it¡¯s all true¡ then I¡¯m sorry. I cannot allow you to pass through the barrier. I won¡¯t risk my clan¡¯s safety.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t mean to harm anyone!¡± Mo Yuan raised his voice ever so slightly, indignation and hurt flashing through him. His gaze darted from one side to the next, and when he continued speaking, it was in a near-whisper once more. ¡°The clans are permitted to hunt down my companions however they please, and yet if I so much as raid a single caravan for supplies I become some heinous monster that deserves to be sealed or eradicated? I¡¯ve only hurt those who try to harm me first! Had we simply been allowed to stand alongside the clans as we had petitioned during the conference, there would be no strife between us!¡±
That was the incident that had truly started the war¡ª when Mo Yuan and six others had appeared at the Immortal Clans¡¯ Conference a year before the attack on Baidong Mountain, demanding to be allowed to participate. Song Weicheng, as it was recorded, had permitted their participation, even going so far as to state that should they prove themselves, they would be offered a place within Ruijian Pavilion. These seven youths had good skills, and easily ended up in the top rankings of the competition¡ª but when Song Weicheng approached Mo Yuan to extend an invitation to join Ruijian Pavilion, Mo Yuan had suddenly attacked the clan leader before escaping with his followers.
And now he had the audacity to bring up that incident as a wrong done to him?
Ning Feiyun, however, did not respond with indignation.
¡°You know very well the rules of the cultivation world,¡± he replied. ¡°Why would you even reveal yourselves back then in the first place? You could have stayed hidden in the mountains¡¡±
¡°I had no desire to live my whole life as a fugitive without just cause,¡± Mo Yuan snapped.
¡°So you hoped to create a reason to be hated? And¡ what of those who came with you that day? Qiu Wei and the others¡ did they also agree to be caught up in your dreams of glory?¡±
Silence fell, deafening as a peal of thunder.
Mo Yuan looked up with anger trembling between his brows.
¡°You know nothing, Luo Qian¡ Ning Feiyun. Nothing of the sort of life we live, or of the struggles that face us each day. I did not come here to cause any harm to your beloved clan, only to prevent it from being done to my own,¡± he said, his voice once more taking a dark turn. This time, though, it was carefully measured, the crackling of lightning beneath his words deliberate. ¡°Now please¡ you may have taken a new name and a new life, and even gained the favor of the heavens¡ª but we once were closer than brothers, were we not?¡±
Mo Yuan¡¯s words were sharp as a razor¡¯s edge, precise as a needle¡¯s point. Ning Feiyun, who had stood resolute to not permit this, had begun to waver¡ª and Mo Yuan had seized upon those weak points from the very start of their exchange, invoking Ning Feiyun¡¯s concern, his sympathy, and the still-smoldering embers of the closeness they had once had. And yet despite that, Ning Feiyun was still more resolute than expected.
¡°Please¡¡± Ning Feiyun sighed. ¡°Even so, I can¡¯t betray my clan. I cannot help you, Mo Yuan.¡±
¡°Yet you would betray a bond far older than that?¡± Mo Yuan countered. He was beginning to grow frustrated, and that frustration intertwined with his desperation to breed anger¡ and bitterness. His already sharp tongue turned scathing. ¡°Must I remind you¡ that name you now bear, your current position¡ you owe it all to me. Had I not stood aside that day, I would be the one in your place now¡ª it¡¯s time for you to repay that debt.¡±
Ning Feiyun¡¯s body went stiff, eyes widening. His expression turned anxious, throat bobbing as he swallowed. He took first one, then another step back, and could only meet Mo Yuan¡¯s gaze for a moment longer before his own dropped to the ground. Even his grip on Shuangci grew slack, and with a flick of his fingers, the spear retracted back into its collapsed form, which he attached back onto his bracer. He didn¡¯t reply for a good long while¡ª and yet it was clear from the moment he looked toward the ground that with those final words, Mo Yuan had managed to shatter his defenses.
¡°Yuan-ge¡ please don¡¯t do anything rash,¡± he practically whispered. ¡°Are you¡ absolutely certain that you can¡¯t tell me why you need to enter Baidong Mountain?¡±
Seeing that Ning Feiyun had yielded, Mo Yuan¡¯s demeanor softened almost immediately. Still, though, he shook his head. ¡°I still can¡¯t fully trust you with that information, you understand that, right?¡± he asked. ¡°But¡ I promise that I was not lying when I said I did not come here to cause harm¡ it would be best if my presence here is entirely unnoticed. I don¡¯t intend to confront Yinshan¡¯s cultivation clans¡ only to protect my own.¡±
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
¡°Will you kill anyone?¡± Ning Feiyun asked. It was as though he were trying to convince himself that he were still pushing back¡ but he¡¯d already caved beneath the burden Mo Yuan had placed upon his shoulders.
And Mo Yuan was well aware of that. He reached out, clasping Ning Feiyun¡¯s shoulder with a firm hand¡ª though he didn¡¯t reply right away. He allowed the touch to linger, the threat that had formerly darkened the corners of his expression evaporated, only hints of gratefulness left in its wake.
¡°I won¡¯t kill anyone unless I have no other choice,¡± he promised. ¡°If I am able to get in and out without being noticed¡ then I doubt anyone will have to die.¡±
It sounded as though he were simply making a reassurance, and yet there was something else there, a subtle probing, a hint of suggestion.
¡°Oh¡ there might be a way I can help with that,¡± Ning Feiyun replied.
¡°Is there?¡±
Anticipation swelled up within Mo Yuan¡¯s chest as Ning Feiyun reached into the pouch he wore at his belt, drawing out a small, familiar-looking spiritual tool. It was a concealment device¡ the very same sort that they would use years later to silently infiltrate the mountain prison.
From the feeling of triumph that rushed through Mo Yuan upon seeing it, it was clear that this was exactly what he had been hoping for.
¡°This device will allow you to conceal yourself from the spiritual sense of others, even those whose cultivation is higher than yours,¡± Ning Feiyun explained. ¡°If it will prevent anyone from being hurt¡ I will lend this to you. But please¡ª once you¡¯ve finished whatever it is you came here for, please return the device to me. If you cannot do so in person, then leave it in the hollow of this tree.¡±
He pointed to hollowed-out tree a few steps away.
¡°Very well,¡± Mo Yuan nodded his head, and as Ning Feiyun placed the device in his hands, genuine relief washed over him. The smile that followed, small and a bit exhausted, was also no act. ¡°Thank you.¡±
Ning Feiyun still seemed uncertain and unsettled by all of this. Mo Yuan¡¯s thanks fell upon ears that were not quite willing to hear it, the relieved expression on his face taken in by eyes that had turned dull with resignation. It was no wonder. Speaking to a wanted rogue cultivator like a friend was enough of an offense, but giving him a concealment device and turning a blind eye to his infiltration of a cultivation clan¡¯s stronghold was outright treason. There was no way that the young Ning Feiyun didn¡¯t know this¡ and yet those few words from Mo Yuan had stung him too deeply. How could one simply turn their back on one of their oldest friends, after all? Especially when a debt was owed¡
Had he refused, would Mo Yuan have accepted it? It seemed unlikely. Mo Yuan was a dangerous person after all, his later actions proved that. Though it had seemed genuine, whether his promise to cause no harm could be trusted or not was a different matter¡
Suddenly, it became clear when, precisely, this memory took place.
These events must have occurred shortly before the attack on Baidong Mountain, when the Nameless infiltrated the stronghold and nearly brought ruin to Yinshan¡¯s cultivation clans¡ª the battle in which Song Mingzhen¡¯s timely arrival had just barely managed to turn the tide. No wonder Ning Feiyun¡¯s demeanor was often so guarded and miserable. If he had been the one responsible for letting Mo Yuan inside the barrier after all¡ no doubt he¡¯d been tormented by guilt ever since.
But something still seemed off.
Mo Yuan had promised that he wished to cause no harm¡ª and in that moment, he had been telling the truth. After all, within this memory his feelings were plainly apparent. There was no lie in the statement that he wished to remain undiscovered, and his urgency was not one born from a desire to destroy and conquer, but regret and anxiety deep within him.
So what was it that had caused it all to change?
Had he somehow been caught by a patrol? But why would that cause him to attempt to lay waste to Baidong Mountain, instead of just wiping out the patrol? Mo Yuan might have been a feared evil cultivator, but at least now he seemed not to be particularly rash. Nor did it seem like he would have changed his plans on purpose. Even if he meant to betray Ning Feiyun¡¯s trust, it would have been a much wiser decision to simply slip away and keep the concealment device for himself. Such a thing would give him a powerful advantage¡ª as was evident with Ning Zhifeng¡¯s case. If Mo Yuan sought to destroy Baidong Mountain and wipe out the Qin clan, It would have been far better to do so through clandestine means.
As these questions rose up and swirled through his mind like a tempest, the memory itself began to distort, time seeming to speed up, slow down, and collapse back onto himself, leaving him disoriented and dizzy.
Your memories aren¡¯t intact.
The Fragrance of Memory worked by combining the scent of the incense with some kind of trigger scent¡ª in that case, it had been the soft mossy fragrance from within the cave. Usually, if what he knew of the technique was correct, it would have allowed the entire memory in question to play out continuously, but this time that wasn¡¯t the case. As soon as Mo Yuan within the memory had left that area, climbing in elevation and leaving behind the forest in the foothills, the memory that had been drawn up lost its clarity.
For awhile, it was like being tossed amid a river¡¯s flow, tumbled beneath the rushing water one unfortunate breath away from drowning, with his head only occasionally able to breach the surface and catch a glimpse of how far he¡¯d come. It was disorienting, and the panic that had begun to die down while the memory played out surged back up with renewed vigor. He struggled against the confusion to no avail, helplessly swept along until at last the flow shifted, and he found himself surfacing from the haze into another more distinctive memory.
This time, it opened onto darkness, senses flooded with the cool dampness of a cavern¡¯s interior¡ and the hum of spiritual energy running through the walls, floor, and ceiling around him in a constant, steady flow.
This time, he knew exactly where he was.
He would not soon forget the sensation of descending into Baidong Mountain¡¯s spirit caves.
So that was where Mo Yuan had gone while under the protection of Ning Feiyun¡¯s concealment device. It wasn¡¯t surprising at all¡ª rogue cultivators rarely had the opportunity to enter such sacred places, and had to make do cultivating within the mortal world where the spiritual energy was far inferior. If one of them managed to sneak into one of the cultivation world¡¯s strongholds without being caught, it only made sense that they would try to take advantage of such an opportunity. More likely than not, he would never get another such chance for advancement in his lifetime.
Strangely enough, though, Mo Yuan didn¡¯t seem interested in the countless caves and passages that branched off in all directions. Neither the pools shimmering in the light of spiritual ore nor the stones that whispered ancient secrets caught his eye. Instead, he simply continued straight forward through the passage, deeper and deeper into the spirit caves. He wasn¡¯t merely looking around¡ª he was here with a distinct purpose.
The path he took through the caves was a familiar one. Down the winding passage, to a bridge that crossed over unfathomable depths, past a wall that unknowingly could be turned to sand in an instant. An invisible barrier stood before him, streams of inscriptions apparent only through spiritual sense, and there he stopped, and waited. He waited until the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard from the other side of the barrier. When one of the Ning clan¡¯s guards opened the barrier to pass through, Mo Yuan slipped through at the same instant, remaining undiscovered.
Onward he went, silent and cautious, with growing anticipation and fear nestled within him, feeding off of one another until his veins were alight, steps urged ever-quicker. It wasn¡¯t long before he arrived at that wide, open chamber, with the mountain prison rising up before him.
Pausing only for a moment, he continued forward.
Why had he come here?
It was a strange situation, at least compared to the events as recorded by the cultivation world. If Mo Yuan meant to attack Baidong Mountain, why come to a place where one wrong move would cost him his freedom or his life? He¡¯d taken a great risk entering the spirit caves, only to place himself within the walls of the mountain prison¡
And yet, it wasn¡¯t an unfamiliar move. He wouldn¡¯t be the last to enter this place, to risk his life, to breach those walls.
The further into the fortress he went, the more familiar it all seemed¡ª carefully avoiding the surveillance arrays, even descending to the second level of cells.
Suddenly, whether through deduction or memory, everything became clear. Mo Yuan hadn¡¯t been lying when he was persuading Ning Feiyun to let him in. He wasn¡¯t here to attack at all.
He was here to rescue someone.
A few voices could be heard up ahead, the words indistinct and muffled. Mo Yuan stopped, leaning in to peer around the corner. A pair of low-ranking guards stood outside the door to one of the cells.
¡°Pity you can¡¯t hear anything from out here,¡± one of them said. They were the only ones here, as far as he knew, so he didn¡¯t bother speaking in a low voice.
His companion released a short laugh. ¡°Well, I doubt he¡¯ll have much voice left to scream with by now,¡± he replied. ¡°That boy was so defiant when he was brought in¡ but from what I heard, he was soft. It didn¡¯t take long to break him.¡±
Hearing these words, the fear and anger within Mo Yuan¡¯s chest flared up even more. He clutched at the fabric of his sleeves, his breath catching in his lungs and burning as he inhaled.
¡°He won¡¯t last much longer, most likely,¡± the second guard continued. ¡°I think they¡¯re planning on throwing the corpse out near the place the last shipment was attacked. I¡¯ve heard their leader is actually here in Yinshan right now. Maybe this will get him to back off and run back to the wild lands.¡±
Mo Yuan was shaking, his hands and feet cold as ice while rage smoldered like a fire within his heart. He could barely keep himself from rushing forward and strangling these two men with his bare hands, and only after awhile was he able to slowly approach, step by step, hands tightly clenched into fists as he fought to remain calm. It wouldn¡¯t be a good idea to kill them now¡ if he killed one, the other would raise the alarm, and even if he was fast enough to end both of their lives, there was someone else inside the cell who would see the bodies or sense traces of the conflict. Mo Yuan couldn¡¯t afford to raise even the slightest suspicion right now.
The ringing of a bell, light and clear, sounded through the corridor.
The first guard reached for something attached to his belt¡ª it was the key to the cell. ¡°It sounds like they¡¯re finished for now.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know why they¡¯re dragging it out for so long,¡± the second guard sighed and shook his head, ¡°Now it seems they¡¯re just enjoying themselves.¡±
¡°I doubt that¡¯s the case,¡± the first countered as he began to open the cell. ¡°The heretics¡¯ leader has an innate spiritual sense. He¡¯ll be able to feel the boy¡¯s suffering on his corpse¡ª this way, the message will be more effective.¡±
Mo Yuan¡¯s throat was tight as he remained pressed against the wall barely a chi away from where the two were standing, hoping that they didn¡¯t reach out toward where he was concealed. His blood was turned to ice with dread, and he could barely hold himself upright. His heart was racing, and cold sweat ran from his brow down along his cheekbones. The door to the cell was opened, and the two guards fell silent as a man in fine white robes with his hair bound up in an elaborate silver guan exited, followed closely by another rough-looking man whose sleeves looked as though they had been dipped in a pool of blood. Neither of them spoke, and one of the guards turned to follow them back down the corridor while the other moved to close the cell.
Willing himself forward, Mo Yuan reached out to snatch the key that the departing guard carried. He made it through the cell door just as it closed, and the end of his dark robe caught between the door and the stone wall. The fabric tore as he tried to pull it free¡ª but he couldn¡¯t care less about that.
As soon as the door had shut behind him, his senses were assailed with the iron-copper stench of blood and the crackling, burning sensation of terror. Within the cell, it was complete darkness, but Mo Yuan raised a shaking hand and flicked his fingers, producing a small flame that lit up the hellish space.
Immediately, he wished that he hadn¡¯t.
In the center of the cell, suspended with heavy chains around his neck, wrists, and ankles so that his arms were outstretched and his feet could barely touch the ground, was a youth who couldn¡¯t have been any older than fourteen, his face and body beaten and bloodied until he was almost unrecognizable.
Catalyst
¡°Xiao-Lan¡¡±
The whisper echoed through the cell, falling with a dull thud against the cold walls and bloodstained stone floor.
Mo Yuan¡¯s knees felt weak and he nearly collapsed, wave after wave of nausea rushing through him. He could barely keep from doubling over and retching at the sight before him. Since departing Mengshan Temple at the age of fifteen, he and his companions had lived in the wild lands beyond the clans¡¯ reach, where they had fought fierce beasts for food and contended with the occasional evil cultivator that had made his lair there. After returning to the cultivation world, they had been in near-constant conflict with the great clans, who sought to wipe them out or imprison them and stem the growth of their cause before it turned into an all-out rebellion.
Through all of that, Mo Yuan had never seen such cruelty as this. To kill in battle was one thing¡ª to torment one who couldn¡¯t fight back was different. It was deeds like this that gave rogue cultivators the reputation of being ¡°evil¡±¡ª and yet Mo Yuan¡¯s first encounter with such utter sadism wasn¡¯t in the wild lands, or the shadows of the jianghu, but here instead¡ª dealt by the hands of the very same institutions that pledged to protect the world from such things.
And for what purpose?
This boy was no infamous evildoer¡ª he was nothing more than a child.
Fighting against the churning in his stomach and the racing of his heart, Mo Yuan crossed the floor. He tried to ignore the faint splash of his feet in the pools of blood upon the ground, the crawling sense of dread that crept across his skin with each step. He reached up toward the shackles around the boy¡¯s wrists and ankles. They were reinforced with inscriptions that shone faintly in the darkness, bitter and blood-red. The walls and door of the cell blocked one¡¯s spiritual perception from reaching beyond them, while these shackles restricted a cultivator¡¯s ability to channel their spiritual power through their body. Cultivators, even those who had only reached Ningqi stage, healed more quickly than ordinary mortals and thus could endure and recover from more severe injuries. Those bound by these chains, however, would have their power reduced to that of an ordinary person.
¡°Mo Lan¡ can you hear me?¡± Mo Yuan whispered, his voice trembling, throat tight.
There was no response from the boy, even when Mo Yuan reached out to cup a bruised, blood-stained cheek. His hair was stuck to his forehead, covering his eye¡ª or at least, where his eye once had been. Mo Yuan drew his hand back, covering his mouth in a failed attempt to hold back a choked sob.
He swallowed, then turned his attention toward the places where the chains were fastened to the wall. He summoned his spiritual power into his palm, lashing out to strike the place where the strain was greatest¡ª the inscriptions were present only on the cuffs themselves, likely so that a prisoner could be restrained in a variety of different positions or levels of restriction. The chain broke, and he hurried to catch Mo Lan before he could be jerked to the side by the one attached to his other wrist. His body was so badly damaged that Mo Yuan feared any jolt or jostle could worsen his condition.
After pausing for a moment to make sure no one had somehow noticed something was off and come to investigate, Mo Yuan broke the chain holding Mo Lan¡¯s other arm, then slowly, carefully lowered both himself and the unconscious youth to the ground.
¡°We will escape this place together, Xiao-Lan,¡± he murmured, resting Mo Lan¡¯s bloodied head on his lap and trying his best to ignore his shaking fingers and the rage smoldering deep within him. Mo Lan¡¯s survival was the most important thing right now¡ª he could get his revenge on the ones who did this to him once the boy was safe.
The concealment device had allowed him to enter the prison unnoticed, even making it all the way to this cell. Mo Yuan, however, did not know whether it could conceal two people at once. He¡¯d not wanted to give away any more information than necessary to Ning Feiyun, after all, so he simply hadn¡¯t asked.
He detached the device from his own clothes, then pinned it gently to Mo Lan¡¯s tattered, bloodied shirt. Once it was activated, Mo Lan vanished right there within his arms. It was uncanny. Had he not been holding onto the boy, he would be just as unnoticeable as those concealed guards had been. Still, as far as Mo Yuan can tell, his own form remained visible. He could restrain his spiritual aura, but he was no illusionist¡ª with just that technique he wouldn¡¯t be able to escape notice unless the entirety of the mountain prison¡¯s guard were suddenly struck blind.
There was still another matter of importance. Mo Lan¡¯s injuries were severe, and still bleeding, and though Mo Yuan was attempting to use his own power to stabilize the boy, the shackles upon his wrists and ankles restricted the flow of spiritual qi through his meridians, whether his own or borrowed.
For Mo Lan to properly recover, they would need to be removed somehow¡ª but Mo Yuan did not have the key to these shackles, nor was there an obvious weak point in the inscriptions that were engraved upon the iron.
Even if they managed to escape the prison, even if he got Mo Lan all the way back to their hideaway, his life could still be in danger unless they could find out how to remove the shackles.
It was an ill-prepared rescue attempt, fueled by fear and by guilt¡ª Mo Yuan should have never allowed the boy to go out and seize that supply cart. He should have realized that it was a trap, before Mo Lan¡¯s signal talisman had notified him that the boy was in trouble. He should have rushed to the scene more quickly, and gotten there in time to prevent the raiding party from being slaughtered and Mo Lan from being dragged away, leaving nothing but a trail of blood behind.
Nearly half a month had passed since then, and Mo Yuan had been nearly feverish the whole time, lying in wait near Baidong Mountain¡¯s barrier array, listening in to every conversation he could between the guards and patrolmen. When he at last heard that Mo Lan was still alive, and being held within the mountain prison, he had only planned so far as to leverage his past friendship with Luo Qian, who had been adopted as the Ning clan¡¯s third son, Ning Feiyun, in order to get past the barrier and gain the tools he needed to infiltrate the prison.
He had faced countless risks since leaving Mengshan Temple three years ago¡ª but this had shaken him far more deeply than anything else.
How could it not?
Though the two were not related by blood, Mo Lan was a younger brother to him. He had always looked up to Mo Yuan, endlessly clinging to his side and trying to impress him. On the night that Mo Yuan, Qiu Wei, and the others had left Mengshan Temple, Mo Lan had run after them, sobbing and begging to come along.
Mo Yuan detached the concealment device once more and felt Mo Lan¡¯s pulse. It was weak, and growing still-weaker by the second. He opened up the pouch at his waist, taking out a strengthening pill and placing it within the boy¡¯s mouth. The Nameless cultivators often had a limited supply of medicines and thus used them sparingly¡ª even though a girl from Xuanlin¡¯s medicine cultivators, who had some training already before running away from home, had recently joined their cause, unless it were some herb or ingredient that could be easily gathered in the mountains or the wild lands, there was still nothing they had in abundance. Mo Yuan only had this one strengthening pill with him to to use in case of emergency¡ª but Mo Lan would die if he didn¡¯t have some kind of help. The shackles could not entirely restrict a person¡¯s spiritual flow¡ maybe this medicine would be enough to keep him from fading away.
Mo Yuan shut his eyes, shoulders trembling as he held the younger boy close. He had been such a fool back then¡ he had truly thought they would be able to establish their own sect and work toward a bright and glorious future.
He should have never agreed to let Mo Lan come with them.
If he hadn¡¯t, the boy would still be at Mengshan Temple today, safe and secure¡ª not chained and tormented in the depths of a prison that was supposed to be reserved for the foulest of the world¡¯s criminals.
He was just a child.
¡°Da-ge¡¡±
Mo Yuan didn¡¯t even notice the tears that had begun to roll down his cheeks, nor how much he was trembling. As soon as he heard that faint voice, though, he opened his eyes. Mo Lan¡¯s head was pillowed in the crook of Mo Yuan¡¯s elbow, upper back resting upon his knees. The boy didn¡¯t move, and his remaining eye was only slightly open, barely visible beneath tear and blood-caked lashes.
Still, seeing him awake at all was unexpected¡ª and just for a moment, Mo Yuan felt a small lurch of hope within his heart. Maybe the strengthening pill really had worked.
Maybe Mo Lan would survive, and they could somehow escape¡ maybe back at the hideaway they could find a way to break the shackles, and since Mo Lan¡¯s cultivation was already quite good, he might be able to recover.
Maybe¡ they really should disappear back into the wild lands, and spend time recovering and training and gaining strength before returning again to establish themselves within the cultivation world¡
Or maybe, they would just continue to build a life for themselves beyond its borders.
If he and Mo Lan were able to survive this¡ he would give up that foolish ambition entirely. It would be better to simply start something new for themselves, instead trying to break apart a world that only wished to stamp them out.
¡°Xiao-Lan,¡± he whispered back, for fear that even with the cell¡¯s silenced walls, his voice would carry beyond them, ¡°Da-ge is here. I¡¯ve come to take you away from this place.¡±
Mo Lan didn¡¯t respond. For a moment, the only sound was the quiet rasp of his breathing, and Mo Yuan wondered if he had lost consciousness again. Then, the boy¡¯s bloodied lips curved slightly into a faint, weak smile.
¡°I¡¯m so glad¡¡± Mo Lan replied, his voice trembling. Then, the smile was replaced by a look of anguish, and a choked sob escaped his throat. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Da-ge¡ I didn¡¯t mean¡ to be captured¡¡±
¡°It isn¡¯t your fault,¡± Mo Yuan insisted, holding him ever so slightly closer, propping the boy¡¯s head up against his chest. ¡°I should have realized that things were getting dangerous.¡±
Another few sobs followed, breaking off into a rattling cough. Mo Yuan tried to calm the younger boy down, gently stroking a place on his head where there didn¡¯t seem to be any cuts or bruises. Mo Lan was intermittently shaking and still, his body too weak even to keep trembling.
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¡°I¡ didn¡¯t tell them,¡± Mo Lan continued. ¡°They tried to make me, but¡ I didn¡¯t tell them how to find you or the others. I¡ I won¡¯t give in, just like Da-ge.¡±
¡°Hush now¡ don¡¯t try to speak too much. You should maintain your strength¡¡±
Mo Lan fell silent again, and swallowed¡ª then coughed once more. Blood ran from between his lips, his lashes fluttering as his eye rolled back into his head. Even speaking took the boy so much effort, caused him so much pain.
The severity of his injuries was becoming more and more apparent. He had been tormented for many days now, and the floor of the cell was soaked in his blood. Many of his bones were broken, and along with his missing eye, half of the fingers on his right hand had been severed. The sound of his breathing was painful to listen to, and he could barely keep his eye open enough to look up at Mo Yuan¡¯s face.
He needed to find them a way out of this prison, but before he could start to formulate a plan, he felt a tug at his clothes. Glancing down, he saw that the boy had caught hold of his sleeve with his less-injured hand, holding on as firmly as he could with his weak, shaky grip.
¡°I¡¯m glad,¡± Mo Lan repeated. ¡°I¡¯m glad that I¡ I¡¯m not alone.¡±
Another cough, another mouthful of blood spilled.
Mo Yuan¡¯s eyes went wide as he realized he could feel the boy growing weaker and weaker. And now, he could feel something else as well¡ª something sinister, winding its way through his veins, burning through his meridians.
His heart sank. Not only had they tortured Mo Lan¡ but they¡¯d poisoned him as well.
¡°It hurts¡ so much. They wanted to¡ use me against you. I thought I wouldn¡¯t see you¡ I thought I would¡ die here in the dark, but I¡¯m not alone, and there¡¯s light. I¡¯ve been so cold, but at least¡ before I die.. I¡¯m not as cold anymore.¡±
¡°No¡¡± Mo Yuan shook his head. He gathered Mo Lan up in his arms and held him close. ¡°We¡¯ll leave this place, we¡¯ll get back to the hideaway and you¡¯ll heal. Xiao-Lan, don¡¯t say things like that! You can¡¯t say that sort of thing, alright? Stop acting like you¡¯re going to die!¡±
Mo Lan¡¯s head drooped, tucking up close against Mo Yuan¡¯s shoulder. Mo Yuan could feel the blood that dripped from the younger boy¡¯s wounds, soaking through his clothes, warm and damp against his skin but rapidly cooling. Outside, it was midsummer, yet here in this cell it was as cold as winter. Why was it so cold?
¡°Thank you¡ for coming to find me,¡± Mo Lan choked out. His words were cut off by another fit of coughing. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡ I won¡¯t be able to keep following you.¡±
¡°No, no¡ of course you can follow me!¡± Mo Yuan insisted, barely able to restrain his voice to a whisper now.
But it was too late already.
Rasping, shaky breaths became weaker, the spaces between lengthening until the boy¡¯s chest went completely still. Dark lashes flickered as he struggled to keep his eye open, until the struggle ceased, leaving it neither open nor closed, dull and lifeless. The tears that had been pooling at the corners of his eyes and slowly trickling down his face came to a stop as the final droplet, shining faintly in the light of Mo Yuan¡¯s small flame, ran through the blood stains on the boy¡¯s cheek and vanished.
Mo Yuan tried to continue channeling spiritual energy into the boy¡¯s meridians, but it was no use. One by one, the last few sparks of life flickered and disappeared, any attempts to keep that light from going out thwarted by the impenetrability of the shackles¡¯ inscriptions. There was nothing he could do. Even if he simply took Mo Lan in his arms and ran as fast as he could, and even if somehow, miraculously, no one tried to stop him, he wouldn¡¯t reach the hideaway in time. Even if he could, they had no true physicians among them, few who even practiced the Dao of medicine. The struggle was lost before it had even begun.
The moment they had dared to show their faces, to believe they might be deserving some place in this world, Mo Lan¡¯s fate had been sealed.
And all Mo Yuan could do was risk his life to be beside him in this final moment, to helplessly hold him in his arms as his corpse slowly turned cold.
He raised his eyes toward the heavens, blocked away from view by the cruel stone walls of this fortress, and cried out in anguish, the echoes of his sobs joining with the memory of screams of pain and torment that filled this place, running out like blood from between the cracks in the stone. Such misery, such cruelty, and what had they truly done to deserve it? What had Mo Lan done, that made these great cultivators believe that a boy of barely fifteen deserved to be tortured to death?
All he had wanted to do was to follow his brother.
And now, he had followed him down into the darkness¡ª a darkness he would never see beyond again.
Mo Yuan wept for a long time, there within the darkness. His voice was cut off from the halls beyond that cruel door, with only the silent, empty corpse of Mo Lan to bear witness. He wept until the pain within his chest turned from a raging fire to a dull ache, then sat in silence with tears streaming down his face. The tears ran down and soaked into his heart, and there they watered seeds of resentment planted long ago, before he had even departed from Mengshan Temple. There they put down roots, nestled among still-smoldering embers of grief.
In total darkness, the passage of time became difficult to discern. Mo Yuan sat motionless, cradling Mo Lan¡¯s head within his lap until his body turned stiff, then gently set him down. He didn¡¯t wish to leave the boy¡¯s corpse here in this cell. If nothing else, Mo Lan should at least have a proper burial, far away from this terrible place.
He shut his eyes, taking in a shaky breath as he rose to his feet.
Xiao-Lan would be avenged. But first, Mo Yuan needed to get out of here.
And he didn¡¯t have the time to formulate a plan, either.
The door¡¯s locking mechanism released with a loud thump, and opened to reveal the pair of guards and the man with bloodstained sleeves from earlier. The finely dressed man was nowhere to be seen this time¡ª but it didn¡¯t matter.
Mo Yuan had left the concealment device on the ground, and now stood in full view in the middle of the cell, the prisoner¡¯s corpse lying still on the ground, his chains broken. There was nowhere to hide, and no case to plead that might allow him to escape.
Despite this, what filled him now was not fear for his life, but instead pure, unbridled fury.
That man, whose sleeves were stained with blood, was without a doubt the one who had broken Mo Lan¡¯s body until he could barely speak, who had infused his veins with poison until his meridians were burned away. This was the man who had killed his brother¡ª
Mo Yuan¡¯s body moved practically on its own, and in a split second he had flown across the cell¡¯s threshold, rage burning within his eyes. The tormentors had been expecting a near-dead prisoner, not a living, furious, unrestrained rogue cultivator.
They didn¡¯t have time to react.
Mo Yuan had already reached a high level in his cultivation, not merely for a rogue cultivator¡ª even among those his age who were children of the great clans, at mid Zhuji-stage, he would be able to stand with or even surpass them.
The torturer was at least a minor boundary below him, and the guards even lower than that.
With a single strike, Mo Yuan¡¯s hand thrust directly through the torturer¡¯s chest, piercing his heart and sending a burst of crimson blood spraying all across the halls, floors, and ceiling of the corridor. The guards hurried to brandish their weapons, but there was a vicious light in Mo Yuan¡¯s eyes, and he was unstoppable in his vengeful rage. He remembered the way that these two had spoken of Mo Lan earlier, how callous their words had been, even that bit of amusement in their voices. He grasped the blade of one of their swords, heedless of the way the blade cut into his palm as he wrenched it from the man¡¯s grasp, and quickly slew them, one after the other.
It had all happened before they were even able to raise the alarm¡ª but he couldn¡¯t stay here.
The moment someone glanced down this corridor, the mountain prison would be sealed off and he would be trapped.
Mo Yuan, bloodied sword in bloodied hand, fled as quickly as possible.
Anyone who happened to be in his path, he cut down without hesitation, leaving a trail of bodies behind as he raced through the corridors. His mind frantically worked to remember the patterns of the surveillance array, leaping and bounding from the walls and into small alcoves to avoid triggering it as he passed through the prison¡¯s upper level, toward the great stone doors that led to the outside.
It was here that there would be trouble¡ª unless those doors were opened, he would never be able to break free.
But Mo Yuan had little problem with that. As he approached the gate, he simply released the sword in his hand, commanding it to fly in a wide, swift arc, piercing the hearts of all of the guards save one, who was pinned by his shirt to the wall. Mo Yuan leapt forward and grasped the hilt of the sword. As the remaining guard scrambled to sound the alarm, he swung his sword, slicing the man¡¯s hand clean off at the wrist before bringing the blade against his throat. The man began to scream in agony, but cut off quickly as the sharp edge pricked his neck.
¡°Open that gate,¡± Mo Yuan hissed out through gritted teeth, a madman¡¯s fury burning within his eyes. ¡°Open that gate now, let me pass through, and I¡¯ll allow you to keep your wretched life.¡±
The guard was frozen in terror, the sudden threat having caught him off-guard. The mountain prison was nigh impenetrable¡ª to be attacked this way, and from the inside no less, was something that he could have never expected, especially as a mere gate guard. He did not possess the strength of will to stand firm, and released the gate¡ª perhaps hoping that he could cry out a warning to his fellows outside.
He didn¡¯t get the chance.
In this moment, filled with such rage and bitterness, Mo Yuan cared not to hold to the promise he¡¯d made. The moment the gate was opened, he leapt onto his sword, leaving the gate guard¡¯s head rolling on the ground behind him.
Shouting broke out from all around the open area, and almost immediately, Mo Yuan heard the twang of bowstrings and the whistling of arrows slicing through the air toward him. He bent down low over the sword, willing it to fly faster and faster. The arrows passed over his head one after the other¡ª until he felt a burning impact and sudden, sharp pain beneath his right shoulder-blade. Almost immediately, the burning began to spread, as though molten metal had been poured into the wound.
The arrows were poisoned.
He¡¯d guessed as much¡ª but the pain was still almost too much to bear.
He couldn¡¯t stop now, though, not when he was so close to escaping. The way out was just ahead, through a narrow passage¡ª and somehow, miraculously, the outer barrier was down. If he could make it past there, he could lose his pursuers in the labyrinth of the spirit caves.
But when he reached the passage, he suddenly crashed into empty air and fell like a stone to the ground.
The poison seeping into his veins was inhibiting his spiritual sense.
For Mo Yuan, whose spiritual eyes had been opened since birth, he had never thought not to trust his senses, which had only ever given him an advantage and helped him to survive and succeed.
Now, his confidence had betrayed him.
With the speed of his reflexes, even amid the pain he was able to catch himself and land on his feet, the sword clattering to the ground next to him. But that was as far as he could get. He raised his head to see a dozen men approaching, weapons drawn. Then, he spat out a mouthful of blood into the dirt.
For the first time since Mo Lan¡¯s death had ignited his veins with fury, Mo Yuan felt afraid. He recalled the cold, painful isolation of those cells within the mountain prison, the cruel shackles, Mo Lan¡¯s fear of dying alone within that lightless place.
And he felt that fear for himself.
¡°Mo Yuan!¡±
The sudden outcry of a familiar voice made him straighten up and turn his head. On the other side of the barrier, someone else was rushing to approach¡ª a tall young man wearing grey robes, with a spear in his hand.
Why was Ning Feiyun here?
Before Mo Yuan could react, there was another snap of a bowstring, and another arrow pierced his side. He cried out, dropping down to one knee as he reached out toward his sword.
¡°Just surrender now, you can¡¯t fight through this, or you¡¯ll die!¡± Ning Feiyun cried out, stopping just in front of the barrier, his eyes and voice alike filled with a desperate plea as he pressed his hands against it.
Mo Yuan froze, his breath caught within his lungs.
He¡¯d been struck by two poisoned arrows. There was a barrier before him, a small army of foes behind, and a sheer drop into nothingness on either side. His spiritual sense was muffled, and he was in immeasurable pain.
Ning Feiyun was right¡ª he couldn¡¯t fight this. Even if he could fight, he couldn¡¯t escape.
But he would willingly die before he allowed them to drag him into that hell.
Slowly, shakily, Mo Yuan stood back up, his hands raised above his head. Through increasingly blurry vision, he watched as his pursuers one by one began to relax. Their prey was defeated, and surrendering without a fight¡ª it had been a close call, but the hunter was triumphant in the end.
That must have been what they were thinking.
Then, with the last of his strength, Mo Yuan kicked off from the ground, launching himself up into the air¡ª
And over the side of the cliff.
Gasps and exclamations of surprise rose up from the stunned pursuers.
Ning Feiyun¡¯s desperate, pained cry echoed off the walls of cavern and chasm alike¡ª ¡°Gege!¡±
That was last thing that Mo Yuan heard as he fell into the darkness. Then, far below, his body struck the surface of an underground river, and his consciousness was consumed by inky blackness.
The Weight of Regret
While Song Mingzhen was submerged within the flow of memories, Ning Feiyun paced up and down across the cavern¡¯s floor.
He was restless and anxious, gripping the retracted Shuangci spear tightly in his hand as he watched Yang Anxiang¡¯s movements closely, prepared to release it at a moment¡¯s notice. She wasn¡¯t the only thing that had him feeling anxious and unsettled, though.
The way that Song Mingzhen had thrown his own words back at him had left him rattled.
If the truth really is such a dangerous, terrible thing, then we will face it when it reveals itself.
He had said those words to Song Mingzhen while his own suspicions were running high, and yet the situation was different¡ª for while his companion had lost his memories, Ning Feiyun himself knew all too well what had happened in those days leading up to the attack on Baidong Mountain. If their suspicions were wrong, and somehow the real Song Mingzhen discovered the role Ning Feiyun had played, what would happen to him then?
Ning Feiyun had desperately wished to forget all of it¡ª to forget seeing Mo Yuan throw himself into the spirit caves¡¯ bottomless pit, to forget seeing the bloodied, battered corpse of Mo Lan lying on the floor of one of the mountain prison¡¯s cells when he went to inspect the damage.
Later on, he¡¯d also tried to forget how he had been the one to let Mo Yuan through the barrier to begin with.
Had he refused to help Mo Yuan back then, would the stronghold still have been breached? Would the war have still been fought?
Would so many who had died still be alive today?
Ning Feiyun couldn¡¯t say¡ª he only knew that everything had gone wrong after gave Mo Yuan entry into Baidong Mountain.
To this day, he had no idea how Mo Yuan survived the fall, but one thing was certain¡ª the one whose heavenly tribulation had broken through the barrier had to have been Mo Yuan. After that day, he had emerged as the first Jiedan stage rogue cultivator in hundreds of years, known then as the Great General of the Nameless, Yinmeng Xuelian, and bathed the cultivation world in blood.
In a way¡ it was Ning Feiyun himself who was responsible for the war.
Such had been the burden he carried for these past seven years, knowing that it was his own treason that permitted such a thing¡ª and yet he had an even darker secret still.
That there was still a small part of him that was infinitely glad that Mo Yuan had survived the fall.
And there was another part of him that, despite everything, had grieved while the rest of the world celebrated his destruction at the end of the war.
Ning Feiyun had been fond of Mo Yuan¡ª truly fond of him, all those years ago when they were just children. Mo Yuan had remembered that fondness, and used it to his own benefit, and Ning Feiyun had fallen for it completely.
But at the same time, was it truly meant as a deception?
Had Mo Lan not died¡ would all of those later events still have come to pass?
In the end, it was a useless question to ask. The past could not be rewritten, after all. Mo Lan had died, and the dead could not be brought back to life¡ª and neither could Mo Yuan be prevented from becoming Yinmeng Xuelian.
Still, when Song Mingzhen had turned Ning Feiyun¡¯s own words of reassurance against him, when he¡¯d seen that little twitch of the other¡¯s lips despite the apprehension and anxiety he was feeling, Ning Feiyun had felt absolutely certain of one thing¡ª that this ¡°Song Mingzhen¡± was, in fact, none other than Mo Yuan himself. How this had happened, and how no one¡ª not even Song Mingzhen¡¯s own clan¡ª seemed to have noticed this, he had no idea. He couldn¡¯t recall ever thinking that the two had looked particularly alike, but when he tried to think back to when he had seen them before, his head began to ache, and he couldn¡¯t quite envision either of their faces¡ª whether he thought of Song Mingzhen, or of Mo Yuan, the face that came to mind was invariably the face of the man that now sat in lotus position atop the platform, wreathed in swirls of incense smoke.
Though some questions might be answered by the Fragrance of Memory¡ª such as why Song Mingzhen¡¯s personality had been so strange, if it turned out he really was Mo Yuan¡ª even more questions would follow. How had this happened? Why did no one know? What was to be done about it?
Now, Ning Feiyun understood how his companion had felt during the investigation, as all of this began to come to light around him. It was overwhelming enough for Ning Feiyun¡ª how much more confusing must it be when one¡¯s memories had vanished, and when he himself was the subject of the questions?
Would Song Mingzhen, or Mo Yuan, even find enough answers today to satisfy him?
Even Yang Anxiang hadn¡¯t seemed sure about that.
Speaking of Yang Anxiang¡ Ning Feiyun paused in his pacing, turning to glance toward the young woman who stood near the incense burner, carefully watching both the rising curls of smoke and the man who sat in meditation upon the platform. The Fragrance of Memory wasn¡¯t a simple technique to prepare and perform¡ª and sometimes, things went wrong. If the memories drawn up were too painful, too difficult to bear, it was possible for the one undergoing the process to destabilize¡ª in that case, Yang Anxiang would need to draw him out of the memory before too much damage was done.
For now, though Song Mingzhen seemed to be stable enough.
If he truly did have Mo Yuan¡¯s memories, though¡
Ning Feiyun bit his lip and turned to Yang Anxiang. He¡¯d never gotten to know her very well while she was Qin Wenying¡¯s concubine. She¡¯d mostly stayed hidden away in the palace, and his opinion of her had been no different than anyone else: a young, pretty flower that the late clan leader had taken a liking to and hidden away like a jewel in a vault. Though he knew of the rumors of her involvement with the Nameless, no one had thought too much of that¡ª pretty though she might be, in terms of cultivation she had seemed rather unremarkable. Even if there was any substance to the rumors, it wouldn¡¯t make much of a difference.
How wrong they¡¯d all been¡
Now that they were here, though, waiting for Song Mingzhen to finish recovering his lost memories, Ning Feiyun couldn¡¯t help but grow curious.
¡°Yang-xiaoniang,¡± he said, then paused. ¡°Yang-guniang, are you the one who assassinated Qin-zongzhu?¡±
Yang Anxiang¡¯s brows rose a little and she glanced up at him. She tilted her head slightly, then turned back to the incense burner before her. ¡°Why would you ask such a thing,¡± she replied, ¡°and what makes you think I would answer you honestly either way? You¡¯re one of the Qin clan¡¯s lackeys, after all.¡±
Ning Feiyun clenched his jaw, glancing at Song Mingzhen¡ª but the other man didn¡¯t stir in the slightest, deep within the incense smoke¡¯s trance.
She was right¡ª he¡¯d been foolish to think she would actually answer his questions.
¡°You enlisted my old mentor, didn¡¯t you? Ning Zhifeng¡ he wasn¡¯t the sort of person who would perpetrate such an attack,¡± he continued to press, ¡°Even the stories he told about aiding the cause of the Nameless didn¡¯t properly connect¡ª why would someone who gathered herbs and provided medicine and safe housing for fugitives turn instead to attacking the heart of the cultivation world¡¯s stronghold¡ª and at a disadvantage, no less?¡±
Yang Anxiang didn¡¯t even look up at him this time¡ª she seemed rather committed to keeping her lips sealed. But then again, that wasn¡¯t particularly surprising, especially if she¡¯d been playing such a long game here, ever since the end of the war.
¡°Do you truly wish to revive the Nameless?¡± Ning Feiyun finally asked, realizing that he wouldn¡¯t get anything out of her about the attacks. At least not until Song Mingzhen woke from his meditation.
¡°Hm,¡± Yang Anxiang snorted, then tipped her head slightly. ¡°What do you think?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t think you do,¡± Ning Fieyun replied, shaking his head. ¡°If that were the case, why attack so boldly while your forces were still so weak?¡±
¡°Who knows?¡± Yang Anxiang shrugged her shoulders.
Ning Feiyun clenched his fist more tightly around his weapon. This woman¡ she was refusing to give him a single straight answer. He exhaled sharply through his nose, then returned to pacing back and forth across the floor.
¡°You know, we¡¯re not inside your fortress of despair,¡± Yang Anxiang said, idly twirling a curl of smoke around her fingers. ¡°You can try to interrogate me as much as you¡¯d like¡ª but it won¡¯t work here. Ning-san-gongzi, you¡¯re in my domain right now, understand?¡±
Once more, Ning Feiyun paused, and then narrowed his eyes. ¡°What will you do with me, then? Even if¡ what we suspect is true, and Song-gongzi is actually your ally¡ I¡¯ve never been aligned with the Nameless. Do you plan on eliminating me?¡±
Yang Anxiang was quiet for a moment, then released a faint, slightly sad chuckle.
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¡°Oh, I considered it¡ª but I think it¡¯ll be alright to let you go. If Yinmeng Xuelian remembers who he is and wishes to return to his former position, of course, it will be his decision rather than mine. But in the case where I am the one to decide your fate¡±¡ª she shrugged her shoulders¡ª ¡°I think I¡¯ll let you go. After all, my business here in Yinshan is done, so I won¡¯t have any need to stay around this place. By the time you can send your hunting hounds after me, I¡¯ll already be long gone.¡±
Ning Feiyun pressed his lips tightly together. He wanted to ask her where, but knew that she wouldn¡¯t answer. To press an interrogation might end in a fight, and though Ning Feiyun was fairly sure that his own skills surpassed hers, Song Mingzhen was quite vulnerable right now. He couldn¡¯t risk causing that person harm¡ not now, when so much still remained unanswered.
It was a little reassuring, at least, that Yang Anxiang didn¡¯t mean to kill him, but he was still surprised that she was leaving. He wondered if it were a bluff, meant to mislead him, but decided that likely wasn¡¯t the case. It wasn¡¯t as though he could just let this slide, after all, and people would come within a few days to search this cave. If her ¡°business¡± truly was finished, though, did that mean she would no longer menace Baidong Mountain¡¯s people? And what exactly had she set out to do?
Kill Qin Wenying¡ lure Song Mingzhen in to uncover his lost memories¡ free Qiu Wei¡
Ning Feiyun lifted his head now.
¡°The Second General of the Nameless,¡± he said as he stepped closer, the mask of the interrogator returning to envelop his features, ¡°where is she?¡±
¡°Safe,¡± Yang Anxiang replied¡ª and there was a sharp edge in her voice now.
¡°¡ what do you mean?¡± Ning Feiyun was a little surprised by that answer. ¡°I wasn¡¯t asking about her well-being.¡±
¡°Perhaps you should be.¡± Yang Anxiang looked up again. A prickle of anger crossed her brow, her eyes flashing dangerously. ¡°Wei-jiejie has already had her cultivation destroyed, and been imprisoned for five years within that terrible fortress of yours. She has suffered so much¡ª weren¡¯t the two of you friends once? Do you really have no sympathy toward her whatsoever?¡±
¡°She invaded Baidong Mountain,¡± Ning Feiyun replied, but the words came out a little hoarse.
¡°So what if she did?¡± Yang Anxiang snapped. ¡°It was about time. Your cultivation clans hold too much power, they¡¯ve trapped the rest of the world beneath their iron grip. It¡¯s not as though their hands are spotless, are they?¡±
Ning Feiyun scowled at her, but couldn¡¯t argue. The Nameless had raided, burned, and slaughtered their way through outposts and towns¡ª but it was true that things happened within the mountain prison that were just as terrible, like what had happened to Mo Lan. Even so¡
¡°I don¡¯t believe that any atrocities should be pardoned,¡± he shook his head, ¡°but Qiu Wei is a vicious person, who doesn¡¯t care who gets caught up in her quest for power and destruction.¡±
¡°She was a vicious person,¡± Yang Anxiang corrected, her voice laced with bitterness. ¡°That is, before your clans broke her. She¡¯s paid for her crimes with both body and mind. You should just let us go¡ª but even if you don¡¯t, you¡¯ll never be able to find her.¡±
¡°You can¡¯t say for sure that she won¡¯t seek out revenge,¡± Ning Feiyun countered, ¡°just as you have on her behalf¡ª this is why those like the Generals of the Nameless can¡¯t be allowed to run loose!¡±
¡°And maybe if we were permitted to ally ourselves with your great clans, then we would have done so!¡± Yang Anxiang snapped back, ¡°but no, instead rogue cultivators are hunted, confined, butchered, their very existence a crime¡ just because they didn¡¯t have the fortune to be born into a good family.¡±
¡°What of yourself? Yang-guniang, you were born into one of the great clans, so what do you have to worry about the fate of nameless criminals? You would never lack opportunities.¡±
¡°Why? Should I not care about the common people? The great clans wield unlimited power over those beneath, and they cannot even hope to rise up through their own skill and effort,¡± Yang Anxiang shook her head. ¡°Besides my own fate, there are the fates of others¡ª and to see so many cut short simply for desiring to nourish the talent the heavens endowed them with¡¡±
She sighed, shaking her head and rubbing her fingers against her temples.
¡°Yinmeng Xuelian, Wei-jiejie¡ they were all fighting a war in which they could not hope to prevail. Nonetheless¡ I wanted them to succeed,¡± she continued, and her hands clenched into fists. ¡°I was so young then, but I had already been studying cultivation for my entire life and had a great deal of knowledge about medicine¡ª so I decided I would join their side.¡±
She went on to explain that she had originally intended only to heal, to support, to prevent as many people from dying as she could¡ª but as the war went on, it became more and more difficult to avoid the actual fighting. It was at some point then that she began to study illusion-crafting, forging for herself a new cultivation path that unified this new interest with her former studies in medicine. No wonder her illusions were particularly potent, if she was not relying on willpower alone, but also on more concrete, practical methods. And no wonder she was able to easily make use of the Fragrance of Memory¡ª she¡¯d probably used it as a basis for her own techniques.
Ning Feiyun might have been impressed, if he weren¡¯t already so wary.
Yang Anxiang left out quite a lot of details in her story¡ª only stating that at some point after the attack on Baidong Mountain, Qiu Wei had taken an interest in her and her skills, and they had spent quite a lot of time traveling and fighting alongside one another, growing close.
The way she spoke of Qiu Wei was with a marked, deep tenderness. Now that Ning Feiyun could hear the affection in her voice¡ it was no wonder why she¡¯d gone through all the trouble of breaking into the mountain prison to set her free.
¡°Jiejie is hardly a shadow of her former self now,¡± Yang Anxiang finished, ¡°It would simply be cruel to return her to that prison, just as it was cruel to keep her there in the first place. I will not allow you to recapture her. She is harmless¡ª and even if she weren¡¯t, it would make no difference. Now¡ all we hope to do is disappear and live in peace, away from the cruel eyes and hands and blades of the cultivation world.¡±
It was the closest so far that Yang Anxiang had come to making a plea.
Ning Feiyun was reminded of that day Mo Yuan had approached him in the forest. How he¡¯d pleaded¡ª and though at the time Ning Feiyun hadn¡¯t known the details of the circumstance, and though Mo Yuan¡¯s desperation had been more apparent than Yang Anxiang¡¯s was now, he couldn¡¯t help but feel like the two situations were similar. Each one of them, pleading for him to turn a blind eye, for him to let them save someone they cared for who had been imprisoned deep beneath the mountains¡ even the cells they had been confined in had been just across from one another.
Last time, Ning Feiyun had yielded, and Baidong Mountain had been viciously attacked as a result.
This time¡ if he were to let Yang Anxiang go without a fight, would something terrible happen again? Or would the two of them truly go off, secluding themselves away from the world and causing no more harm?
It was impossible to know for sure.
Ning Feiyun took a shaky breath. Right now, for all her threats and posturing, Yang Anxiang looked tired. His heart told him to agree to let them go, but his mind still couldn¡¯t release its worries. He couldn¡¯t trust her.
Before he could give an answer, though, the candlelight in the chamber began to flicker, and upon the stone platform, Song Mingzhen¡¯s head suddenly snapped up. His eyes opened¡ª rolled back into his head, all white as blood began to drip from his seven facial apertures.
¡°Yang-guniang!¡± Ning Feiyun shouted, rushing forward to Song Mingzhen¡¯s side. ¡°Something is wrong!¡±
Yang Anxiang, too, snapped into action, cutting open her palm and dripping her blood onto the incense burner¡¯s surface, crimson soaking into the metal.
¡°Try to stabilize his spiritual flow!¡± she ordered. ¡°The weight of the memory is too much for his mind to bear. I¡¯ll draw him out of the trance!¡±
Even as she spoke, though, the room began to shake. The candlelight turned from soft amber to crimson, the flames turning red as blood. Ning Feiyun reached to press his hand against Song Mingzhen¡¯s chest, channeling his own spiritual power into the other¡¯s meridians.
But something was wrong. Very wrong.
As Ning Feiyun tried his best to constrain the burgeoning flow within Song Mingzhen, to prevent the rampant, untethered spiritual qi from damaging his body and mind, he felt a sharp, volatile power rising up from within the other man¡¯s dantian. Even as he attempted to ground and stabilize, Song Mingzhen¡¯s own spiritual power fought back against him, lashing out and severing the connection between them over and over again before it could fully take root. There was a faint glow from beneath Song Mingzhen¡¯s clothing, a blood-red spiritual light emanating from his core and two small slivers on his shoulder and side.
Ning Feiyun grit his teeth and tried to push through, to suppress the backlash, but then a hand caught the back of his robe, pulling him away from Song Mingzhen and down to the floor with a strength that was a little surprising.
¡°Watch out!¡± Yang Anxiang cried out¡ª and a moment later, a pair of shining, crimson blades, shaped like the petals of a lotus flower, were launched from Song Mingzhen¡¯s body. They sliced through the air and scored against the walls of the cave before returning to hover around him, creating an impenetrable, threatening wall.
Ning Feiyun lifted his head from the ground, but Yang Anxiang, who had pulled him down and pinned him there, pushed it down again just in time to evade another strike.
¡°I need to get to the incense burner¡ª I can¡¯t break him out of the trance without it,¡± Yang Anxiang hissed.
¡°You knew this could happen. How could you not take precautions?¡± Ning Feiyun scolded.
Yang Anxiang flinched, then slowly reached out across the floor to where the incense burner had fallen. The smoke had nearly stopped rising from it, yet Song Mingzhen¡ª or Mo Yuan¡ª didn¡¯t seem any closer to escaping the trance. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect such a violent reaction!¡±
¡°Mo Yuan is a Jiedan-stage cultivator, and you and I are a major boundary below him,¡± Ning Feiyun replied, watching the Xuelian blades closely. ¡°How could we hope to properly stabilize him?¡±
¡°He¡¯s not conscious,¡± Yang Anxiang answered, as her fingertips caught the incense burner¡¯s handle and pulled it toward her. If they raised any part of their bodies above the height of the platform, the blades would lash out toward them, but as long as they remained pressed close to the ground, it seemed they would be able to avoid the danger. ¡°His vital weapon is only attacking us because the trance is unstable, and it is responding to a threat within the memory. Now, make sure to watch the blades while I try to wake him.¡±
She put out the embers in the incense burner, but before the smoke could fully dissipate and she could start to unravel the threads of the memory, those twin blades lashed out again¡ª this time, though, they buried themselves in the floor.
Ning Feiyun felt a sudden rush to his head, and a sense of dread piercing his gut as the red light hovering at Song Mingzhen¡¯s¡ª at Mo Yuan¡¯s core¡ª flared brightly, unleashing a shockwave of spiritual qi that rippled out from the platform, across the floor.
¡°Yang-guniang! It¡¯s collapsing!¡± he shouted, but it was too late to do anything about it.
The floor of the cave broke into countless pieces, plunging all three of them into the darkness below.
Ning Feiyun gasped as his body hit the surface of an ice-cold underground river. His head plunged beneath the water as he flailed in the pitch darkness for something to hold onto. The current tumbled him back and forth, left and right, until he couldn¡¯t tell which way was up and which was down, and his lungs were aching as he tried in vain to reach the wall, or the shore, or anything solid. He had no idea where Yang Anxiang or Song Mingzhen were, the sudden shock of the fall and the cold having impaired even his spiritual sense.
The water was deep, and flowing rapidly. Once, his head breached the surface and he tried to gasp in a breath, but it came too late and he ended with a mouthful of water. It seemed the only thing he could do was try to hold on until the river reached its end, or became less rough, or he found the shore¡ he shut his eyes tightly, holding his breath until he began to feel lightheaded, then held it some more.
Just before his consciousness faded away, he felt a hand grasp hold of his sleeve, pulling him through the water. He opened his eyes again, trying to see in his hazy, half-conscious state who had rescued him, but it was still too dark to see anything.
As he felt rough pebbles and sand beneath his palms, his head spun and his body gave out, and he collapsed limp and exhausted on a small, rocky shore.
The Mountains Heart
Within Baidong Mountain¡¯s spirit caves, there were places where mortal feet could not tread. Places where the region¡¯s spiritual qi, that had once flowed freely though all of the mountains, valleys, and rivers, was gathered in such great quantities that even a cultivator¡¯s body would be overwhelmed in little more than an instant.
Beneath the narrow passageways and ledges, in the darkness of a pit said to be bottomless, was the most rich, most powerful of all such places¡ª a river of pure spiritual qi that flowed deep beneath the surface, nourishing the roots of the mountains and all that grew or walked upon them. Even the greatest of Baidong Mountain¡¯s cultivators had never explored this place, and even the sturdiest spiritual tools, when lowered down to gather information, were brought back up broken, overloaded, and shattered.
Within this very spiritual river, Mo Yuan floated for three days and nights.
He should have died that day¡ª and indeed, he had intended to die. It was a choice between capture and death or death alone¡ª how could he not choose the option that allowed him a few final, precious moments of freedom, one last gesture of defiance?
As his body lay still, suspended within the shimmering spiritual current, his consciousness scattered amongst the mountain¡¯s roots, following its ebb and flow, drifting and whirling on the river¡¯s ripples before inevitably returning to his body. He forgot his past, his present, his name and identity, knowing only the rhythm of the mountains and the ever-rippling hum of the energy that surrounded him.
It manifested in brilliant ribbons of colored silk and bright flashes of fireworks, his senses alight without a moment¡¯s rest. A work of art, a performance of a caliber beyond any that he¡¯d ever witnessed before¡ª and he too was a part of it.
If this were death, then death was indeed beautiful.
But he would not dwell within this ceaseless current forever¡ª how his body survived, he had no idea. Perhaps it was the poison from the arrows he had been shot with coursing through his veins, draining and restricting the flow of energy, that also managed to prevent him from being overwhelmed by the force of this spiritual current too much, too quickly.
Perhaps it was willpower alone¡ª for though he had chosen death over capture, he would still choose to live if he had the opportunity to do so.
Or perhaps it was a combination of the two.
Mo Yuan had learned to cultivate in his childhood and worked out more advanced techniques on his own in his youth. He had painstakingly toiled until he was able to establish his foundation, crushing spirit stones to powder and swallowing it or pressing it into his skin until his spirit veins were forcibly expanded, though it was so painful that he felt like a fire had been ignited within his veins.
This was simply the next stage of that toil.
As mind and body drifted freely upon the current, he allowed the flow to travel through his body, granting it passage from his hands to his heart, upper to lower dantian. Delicate he was, careful to keep hold of his awareness, yet not too delicate that he could be easily overcome and shattered.
Channel, divert, compress. Allow his meridians to be filled to burgeoning, then adjust, then push even further.
This was no death, but an opportunity¡ª to live on, to surpass boundaries, to reshape the world just as he¡¯d always hoped to do.
Mo Yuan would do whatever it took to achieve that goal. If Xiao-Lan could not live within this world, then the cruel world that now existed would be brought to an end, turned inside-out and laid to ruin and rebuilt from the ashes that remained.
And Mo Yuan, immersed within the very wellspring from which all of Yinshan¡¯s spiritual power flowed, would be the one to make this happen.
The spiritual light that surrounded him, iridescent as a rainbow and bright as the sun, began to shift and change. The current near where his body was suspended turned blood-crimson as his influence over it gained dominance. It spread outward like blood in the water, his consciousness extended throughout the river¡¯s flow, everywhere and nowhere all at once. In the center of his body, a brilliant light shone, first many-colored, then red as a burning pain raced through his veins, then gradually turning to golden¡ª as though the sun itself had been kindled within him.
The earth shook around Mo Yuan. Through the ceaseless flow of the current, his consciousness reached the surface, and he perceived the way that the world¡¯s spiritual flow had distended, heaping up and swelling over the peaks of Baidong Mountain. The light of the barrier array shone like a fine mesh overtop the mountain¡¯s reaches, a great and impenetrable dome.
Those whose eyes opened to the Dao, who reached Ningqi stage, were able to surpass ordinary mortals. Those who established a foundation were capable of true greatness. When a cultivator reached Jiedan, however, they could bend the world to their will, and even someday reach the heavens.
And when one challenged the heavenly order, it was only natural that the heavens would respond in kind.
Many of those who reached the threshold of Jiedan stage would fall to the heavenly lightning that descended upon them before they could cross it¡ª this, along with the lack of resources, was yet another reason that there had been no rogue cultivators to reach such heights for five centuries. If even those favored by the heavens, who had prepared for this their whole lives, could not endure a heavenly tribulation, then what hope would there be for one who walked in shadow, who struggled with every step along the way?
Mo Yuan, though, was in a particularly special situation. He surely would not have survived a direct hit had he been standing above ground, but right now, he was suspended within Yinshan¡¯s spirit veins, his consciousness stretched from the depths of the earth to the highest mountain peaks.
When the first bold of heavenly lightning descended, it struck not Mo Yuan, but instead the great barrier array of Baidong Mountain¡ª shattering it and, unbeknownst to him at the time, allowing Qiu Wei and the forces of the Nameless to gain entry. The second bolt struck the ground, piercing earth and stone until it reached the spirit veins. Its energy dispersed throughout all of Yinshan, overcharging the Qin clan¡¯s spiritual tools and burning them out in an instant, causing some to detonate and kill those who wielded them. When at last the energy from the heavenly lightning reached where Mo Yuan¡¯s body rested, the greater part had already dispersed. Nonetheless, when it entered his meridians, he was nearly torn apart as he desperately struggled to harness what he could and dispel the rest. His body convulsed, his skin burning.
Rushed and unstable though his cultivation may be, however Mo Yuan had woven himself and his consciousness deep within Yinshan¡¯s spirit veins, drawing upon their power to shield his vital organs.
In that moment, there was a flicker in the back of his mind¡ª and he saw before him a mirror, small and unassuming, its surface clear as crystal. Within that mirror, his own face was reflected, his form illuminated in bright spiritual light. Though his clothes were tattered and his body damaged, he nonetheless hovered there amid the endless current, near-endless spiritual power at the tips of his fingers like vermilion puppeteer¡¯s strings. Seeing himself like this, Mo Yuan could not help but think that he truly had surpassed all that sought to destroy him¡ª and that not a single one of Baidong Mountain¡¯s cultivators could hope to stand against him.
As he thought this, he reached out to touch the reflection of himself within the strange mirror, here in this place that seemed at once the depths of the sea and the void of the night sky. The vermilion strings attached to his fingers connected to those within the reflection, stretching out and criss-crossing like a spider¡¯s web around him. The moment his fingertips touched his reflection¡¯s, a light shone bright silver from within the mirror¡¯s depths, and he felt as though he were being drawn inside.
It was then that the final bolt of heavenly lightning descended¡ª this one, though, found its target. It struck toward Mo Yuan¡¯s body with full force.
When the blow landed, though, it instead struck that silver mirror. Fractals criss-crossed it¡¯s surface, the mirror¡¯s power contending with the heavenly lightning as both intertwined together. It traveled along the vermilion strings, which burned to ash from the sheer force of that power, and Mo Yuan could only remain helpless as it laced into his fingers, lacerating his body with a thousand cuts, burning him from the inside out¡ª
In this moment, he knew he would surely be destroyed. But instead, when that energy reached his core, a clear, resonant sound rang out through the spirit veins, like a smith¡¯s hammer striking the anvil, or like the ringing of a great bell.
Mo Yuan had breached that impossible boundary.
A golden light shone from within him, refined spiritual qi coursing through his meridians. In an instant, the wounds on his body were healed. Every scar upon his body shone brightly for a moment, then faded away¡ª all save the pair of small entrance wounds from the poisoned arrows. These instead turned bright crimson as the dawn before a storm, while the shafts of the arrows were burned away by the sudden influx of energy. The arrowheads, though, remained within his body¡ª traveling along his meridians to be absorbed within his newly-formed jindan. The poison within his body, which would have ultimately felled him before now, was no match for the power of a Jiedan-stage cultivator. In a matter of moments, it was neutralized.
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Mo Yuan felt himself transformed, his mind and body alike consumed by the sudden rush, the unbearable pressure upon him suddenly lifting as he broke free from the flow of the spirit veins, still shining brightly from head to toe.
Bit by bit, the light that wreathed his form began to withdraw, flowing into his body like a spring returning to its source to gather together into the orb of spiritual power that nestled within his dantian, once blazing like a sun but now radiating warmth like a candle¡¯s gentle flame.
Once the glow had faded, Mo Yuan ceased to hover above the ground, body relaxing as he descended. When his now-bare feet touched the cool stone floor, he at last opened up his eyes.
He was standing within a small cavern. Though it was nearly dark as midnight, crossing this boundary had further enhanced his already prodigious spiritual sense¡ª now, he hardly needed to use his physical senses at all.
The spiritual qi within this chamber was nearly as dense as it was within the spirit vein itself, but instead of flowing freely, the greater part of it was contained within the powerful arrays and inscriptions that covered the floor, walls, and ceiling. On another day, in another situation, Mo Yuan might have liked to spend some time examining them. But today, his attention was drawn elsewhere.
In the midst of the chamber was a pedestal, and upon that pedestal was a small silver mirror. As inconspicuous as could be, yet beckoning with a quiet, welcoming light.
Mo Yuan felt as though there were strings wound up inside of his body, drawing him gently yet firmly toward this mirror. His steps moved forward one after the other, as though he could even imagine stopping or waiting. The mirror¡¯s call was persistent as it was potent, and before long he stood before it, gazing into his reflection¡ª within the mirror, though, he could see his face pale and ashen, his eyes bloodshot as his cheeks gaunt. The face within the mirror did not fully match what he now felt¡ª vigor restored, cultivation improved, a light of fierce determination in his chest. Even as he thought that, though, he could feel the thrum of the fibers of spiritual power that connected him to this mirror, and the image before him rippled like the surface of a pool of water, shifting and changing to match the vision he had of himself.
In that moment, Mo Yuan was struck by a profound sense of awe.
He had not grown up within one of the great clans, learning their teachings and histories, sifting through their vast libraries of knowledge. The library at Mengshan Temple, though, was far from worthless even though it could not be called comprehensive. Within some of the volumes stacked in the shelves, of course, had been tales of the world that came before, of its end, and of the beginning of this one¡ª that is, the Great Demonic War.
This mirror, locked away deep within Baidong Mountain¡¯s spirit caves in a sealed chamber lined on all sides with complicated arrays¡ could it truly be one of the five demonic tools, which had once contended with the heavens themselves?
Mo Yuan slowly, carefully reached out and took the mirror from its pedestal. Looking down at his reflection, which had now fully changed, he realized that this was the same mirror he had seen during the heavenly tribulation.
With something like this, he had managed to achieve what was said to be impossible¡ what more would he be able to accomplish if he used it?
Even as he thought this, though, he could feel the threads that connected him to the mirror retreating, the shine fading from its surface as it became, once more, an ordinary mirror, perfectly innocuous in every way. He tapped on its surface with a finger, but there was no response, only his own reflection. Why had it suddenly gone dormant again?
Perhaps it was not so easy to use as he thought¡ª still, it mattered little in the end.
Before, Mo Yuan had been poisoned and defeated, not a match for Baidong Mountain¡¯s forces. Now, though, he had crossed the Jiedan boundary, and his blood and spiritual flow were smooth once again¡ª and far more vigorous than before. He slipped the mirror into the stolen qiankun pouch he wore at his waist, then looked around the chamber he¡¯d somehow found himself inside.
There was no door that he could see, nor any passage in or out¡ª but in one corner, some of the inscriptions seemed to have been torn away as though something had burst through them. Mo Yuan stepped toward that place and rested his hand against the wall. Beneath it, he could feel the hum of Baidong Mountain¡¯s spirit veins, which resonated easily with the energy of his newly-formed jindan¡ as it ought to. Mo Yuan had just been submersed entirely within this spirit vein, his meridians washed through, burst open, and rebuilt. For now, at least, he might as well be considered a part of these mountains, and the spirit veins flowing through the earth no different from the meridians that wove through his body.
He shut his eyes, extending his consciousness toward the spirit vein, connecting it to himself, and with nothing more than a thought, he had been absorbed into it once again. This time, he was not overwhelmed, though¡ª instead, he felt quite at home, his consciousness traveling along its flow as fast as lightning from the heavens, heading ever upward, flowing through the spirit caves, rippling along the underground rivers, winding about the roots of trees, until at last he emerged from the mouth of a bubbling stream, his body turning back to physical form as he landed on the bank.
Mo Yuan raised his head, looking around, shielding his eyes and squinting at the sudden daylight after spending so long trapped within the darkness of the spirit caves. He was in a valley, thickly wooded with a stream that cut through and trickled down toward the plains beyond the mountains. The sky above was filled with heavy, dark clouds, though there was no rain, and the scent of blood was on the breeze.
Not a single one of Baidong Mountain¡¯s cultivators could stand against him.
He recalled the thought he¡¯d had when he felt the mirror¡¯s power winding about him, and all at once he realized something¡ª could this mirror, no doubt the legendary Zhiming Mirror that could rewrite the fates of those who used it, have made it so?
Mo Yuan did not waste another moment, leaping from the ground into the skies, surrounded by a glow of crimson light as he shot off toward Baidong Mountain¡¯s stronghold. If it was true, then he would surely be able to stain Baiyu Palace red with the blood of Mo Lan¡¯s murderers¡ª and even if it wasn¡¯t, Mo Yuan still had to test his theory. After all, he had already planned to die, and now he had reached Jiedan Stage. If he were to die today, he would surely be able to take quite a few of his enemies with him.
The stronghold at Baidong Mountain was in chaos when he arrived, battle raging fiercely along its slopes, corpses lying all around in pools of their own blood. Mo Yuan was a bit taken aback¡ª he¡¯d not expected to find, when he arrived, that Qiu Wei had brought their people up here for a full scale attack after his disappearance. He had expected even less to see that they were doing so well, managing to stand firm against the Qin clan and their vassals despite the mounting casualties.
He didn¡¯t have much time to assess the situation, though, before he heard the whistling of an arrow. He darted to one side to evade it, his speed imbued by a rush of spiritual power¡ª but the arrow was no ordinary one, and after it had passed him by, it turned sharply to continue its flight, mercilessly seeking to embed itself within his heart.
Suddenly, there was a flash of red from the scar in Mo Yuan¡¯s shoulder, and a brilliantly-shining red blade, shaped like a lotus petal, materialized out of his body. It sliced the arrow in two before shooting off and tearing through the abdomen of the one who had fired it and sending him falling to the ground.
Mo Yuan¡¯s eyes went wide, and experimentally he flicked his fingers. The blade spun through the air now to hover just above his palm as he took a closer look at it.
This must be his vital weapon¡ª formed from the arrowhead that had been embedded within him, coated in the poison that drained and suppressed his spiritual power. Now, it had been galvanized by his blood and spiritual power and turned to a razor-sharp blade. Mo Yuan willed it to move once more, and was delighted to find that the blade answered his every whim. He turned toward the archer he had struck down, approaching with a curious gleam in his eyes as he looked down at the wounded man.
He could feel a pull between himself and his fallen enemy¡ or rather, between himself and the enemy¡¯s wounds, as though a silken thread connected this his newly-forged vital weapon of his to the wound it had dealt.
Mo Yuan couldn¡¯t help but wonder¡ what would happen if that thread was unraveled?
After considering it for a moment, he formed a seal with his fingers. The invisible thread turned visible now, at least within Mo Yuan¡¯s powerful spiritual sense, and he could see that it connected from the crimson blade directly to the wounded man¡¯s meridians. Mo Yuan caught that spiritual thread between his fingers and, almost nonchalantly, gave it a tug.
The wounded man screamed in sudden pain. Blood poured from his wound into a deep pool on the ground, and he began to hemorrhage spiritual qi as well, unable to resist the draining effect of the crimson blade.
¡°Who are you¡ª what is that?!¡± A cry rose up from somewhere behind Mo Yuan.
He didn¡¯t even think twice before sending out the crimson blade once more as his victim crumbled to the ground, dead. Another group of Baidong Mountain¡¯s cultivators had come upon him now. Quick as a flash, the crimson blade darted out and sliced back and forth across their bodies, leaving minor wounds behind while Mo Yuan exerted his will and summoned forth the second blade¡ª the second arrowhead. With each wound he left, from a puncture to a graze, he could feel another one of those invisible threads forming, and with a mirthless smile gradually stretching across his lips, he allowed his enemies to charge toward him, only leaping up at the last moment.
In that same instant, he connected the threads and activated them.
A chorus of shouts of surprise and screams of agony rose up as the wounds were torn longer, wider, and deeper into the bodies¡ª it was exactly like unraveling a bolt of woven fabric. Though he could not kill them instantly with mere cuts to the arms and legs, he could render those cuts deep enough so that they quickly began to bleed out, and drain their spiritual qi so that they would not be able to heal themselves fast enough to survive. The arrowheads that prevented escape now bound his victims to his will, the poison that once tainted his blood was now something he could turn on his enemies.
So this was the power he had gained, the one that Baidong Mountain¡¯s cultivators wouldn¡¯t be able to stand against!
If that was so¡ then there was nothing that would stop him from avenging Mo Lan.
He was tired of playing with these fools, who shook and trembled when faced with a newly-risen Jiedan stage rogue cultivator, who died with nothing more than a snap of the fingers. The one most deserving of Mo Yuan¡¯s rage was someone far greater than they were, who dressed in fine silks and jewels and enlisted a torturer so as not to get his own white robes bloodied.
Without paying any more heed to the ones he had struck down, Mo Yuan turned and shot off like an arrow toward the mountain¡¯s summit¡ª toward Baiyu Palace.
Crimson Blades
Baiyu Palace was a glittering gem within the grey stone peaks of Yinshan¡¯s towering mountains, a shining beacon of prosperity, power, and innovation that nestled above a sea of clouds, spotless and sturdy, imposing and elegant all at once. Among the strongholds of the cultivation world, though Ruijian Pavilion in Dayuan was the most famous, Baiyu Palace was by far the most impressive.
One wouldn¡¯t be able to tell from the outside, though, for apart from the grand outer courtyard perched atop a small ledge and the great doors as tall as five men, almost the entirety of Baiyu Palace was contained within the mountain peak, carved from the stone itself. The courtyards were hollowed out from the top, visible only when approached by flying from above, but to all those who stood outside, nothing beyond the outer courtyard could be seen.
Inside, however, were great vaulted ceilings, sturdy pillars, and vast staircases and corridors, all carved from top to bottom with intricate patterns¡ª some protective or functional inscriptions, others merely decorative. Gold and silver and jade drawn from Yinshan¡¯s mines decorated the interior, some fixtures even displaying spirit stones as though they were common gems.
A cultivation clan¡¯s stronghold was a symbol of their wealth¡ª and Yinshan¡¯s Qin clan was the wealthiest of all, their stronghold as beautiful as it was untouchable.
Except Baiyu Palace was untouchable no longer. Baidong Mountain¡¯s great barrier array had fallen, the vast numbers of spiritual tools and defensive mechanisms that Yinshan¡¯s cultivators relied so heavily upon had been rendered inert, and scores of rogue cultivators with their unpredictable tactics had rushed into the streets. Blades clashed, arrows flew, flashes of spiritual light criss-crossed the entire mountain. With the sudden, unexpected invasion and disadvantage, the Qin and Ning clans¡¯ people were caught off-guard and struggled, while the excitement and urgency of the battle fueled their attackers ever forward, ever more vicious with Qiu Wei at their head.
The clan leader had gone into Baiyu Palace, taking his son with him¡ª in an attempt to repair the barrier array and restart the mechanisms that delivered spiritual power from the mountain¡¯s roots to its defenses. At the time, the orthodox cultivators and the rogue invaders had been more or less equally matched, and once the initial surprise had worn off, it became increasingly clear that the advantage lay, naturally, with the clans who called this mountain their home.
Qiu Wei tried to rally her forces, her battle cry rising upon the breeze and echoing from the mountain peaks, but as more and more of them began to fall, even the fire that burned within their ferocious commander could not ignite the rest of the disorganized forces of the invaders. They were better suited for isolated raids in small groups than open warfare¡ª a fact which soon, even Qiu Wei came to understand as they were slowly pushed back down the mountain slope, leaving fallen comrades behind as they went. Still, she was far too enraged now¡ª after losing both her eldest and smallest sworn brothers to Baidong Mountain, she would not yield this fight until her thirst for destruction was satisfied.
Houses and workshops and pavilions were sent up in flame one after the other, crumbling beneath fierce explosions of spiritual qi from within and without. She refused to spare a single person that crossed swords with her, rage fueling every strike, power drawn from each flesh wound that scraped across her arms, legs, and body as the edge of her sword ignited with ever-hotter flames, turning the blade a molten orange.
It would not be enough¡ª they were doomed to fail¡ª but Qiu Wei didn¡¯t care. As long as she was able to burn a portion of this place to the ground, it would be worth it even if she died.
The cultivation world meant to hunt and kill her anyway.
It was better to at least go out in a blaze of glory.
It was at that moment that a familiar figure, wreathed in a blood-red glow, came into view. He shot up the mountain slope, leaving destruction in his wake, a pair of flying blades weaving around and around his form in an endless dance, lashing out to strike at everyone he passed. His eyes, too, shone with that same bloody light, and his dark clothes were torn, and the expression on his face was dull and haunted. Qiu Wei froze as one of those crimson blades pierced the chest of the cultivator she was currently battling, causing him to abruptly fall to the ground.
The newcomer landed next to her, still wreathed in dangerous light. He clenched his fingers into a fist, drawing his hand sharply to one side. The fallen man¡¯s body convulsed, his eyes going wide and his lips parting to release a spray of blood as even more gushed from the wound that was torn ever deeper into his body.
¡°Da-ge!¡± Qiu Wei stared down at her fallen enemy as she caught her breath, then up at Mo Yuan who had just arrived. ¡°You¡ you¡ª¡±
¡°What are you all doing here?¡± Mo Yuan asked, his voice incredulous as he looked around. He didn¡¯t seem out of breath in the slightest¡ª no, rather, he seemed far more invigorated than ever before.
¡°You disappeared,¡± Qiu Wei answered sharply, ¡°One of the lookouts said you had gone to look for Xiao-Qi. When you didn¡¯t come back for many days, we¡ decided to strike back. They¡¯d taken two of our own already, after all.¡±
Upon hearing Mo Lan¡¯s nickname, Mo Yuan¡¯s gaze suddenly darkened, and he looked down toward his feet. ¡°He¡¯s dead,¡± he answered darkly, anger smoldering within him. ¡°Dead at their hands. I would have been too, but¡ I survived.¡±
There was no need to go into any further detail about what had happened.
He was here for vengeance¡ª he had survived for vengeance. Though he could have scolded Qiu Wei for making such a rash decision and bringing their forces which had stayed hidden this past year out into the open, he could not do so anymore. It was clear that it was either take a stand now, or slowly be picked off one by one until there were none of them left. Neither option was good¡ª but this one at least had the potential to change something. Mo Yuan was not in any position to criticize either¡ª after all, the first thing he had done after escaping the caverns was return to this place to burn it down himself.
¡°Don¡¯t be reckless,¡± he still chided, then looked up toward Baiyu Palace¡¯s outer courtyard, standing still-proudly above the rest of the stronghold as archers gathered atop it, taking aim down below. He flicked his fingers, and the twin blades under his command shot off toward the platform, cutting through them before they could loose their arrows. Then, he turned to face Qiu Wei and the other rogue cultivators that had been fighting at her side.
¡°The cultivators of Baidong Mountain fear me¡ª I have crossed the Jiedan boundary, and the heavenly tribulation sent to test me instead brought down their defenses. They cannot hope to stand against me¡ª they cannot hope to stand against us!¡± Mo Yuan called out, his voice ringing loud and clear through the streets of the town-turned-battlefield. ¡°It was the Qin clan¡¯s leader who ordered Mo Lan, Xiao-Jiangjun, to be tormented to his death. Every cultivator here is his subordinate. Strike them down without remorse¡ª destroy them all! Show these demons that we will protect our own! Show them the same fear they have forced upon us!¡±
It was too late to draw back and go into hiding¡ª now, the only option they had left was to make the cultivation world fear them.
Reinvigorated, the invaders began to fight back once more, regaining the ground they had lost and pushing back up the slope. Mo Yuan led them, and as promised, the lines of combatants that came to meet them fractured and broke¡ª some fleeing, some cut down by the flying crimson blades, others surrendering only to be mercilessly stain, red blood staining white robes and running into the ground. Even the Qin clan¡¯s Zhuji-stage cultivators that confronted them had little hope, and the mountain air was soon thick with the volatile spiritual qi of the backlash that came with the deaths of many cultivators in one place¡ª something that had not been felt on this scale for centuries.
But Mo Yuan¡¯s aim was higher than these mere subordinates. The one who towered above them, all but unparalleled in the history of Yinshan¡¯s clans.
Not a single one of Baidong Mountain¡¯s cultivators could stand against him.
That was what he had spoken before the Zhiming Mirror¡ª and the mirror had granted his wish.
Today, he would be undefeated.
Not even the great clan leader, known far and wide for his strength and skill, could prevail.
Once the battle had turned in their favor, Mo Yuan leaped forward, dashing up the slope. He launched himself up into the air and landed lightly upon Baiyu Palace¡¯s courtyard platform, as easily as if he had been leaping across a narrow stream. His eyes began to glow once again with that blood-red light as the twin blades circling threateningly around his form.
There were quite a few cultivators gathered here on the platform, and the white stone was splattered with red blood from where Mo Yuan¡¯s earlier attack had cut down the archers. He wondered how many had been killed and how many had only been wounded¡ but that was a matter to think about later. Right now, his crimson gaze skimmed across the dozen or so who stood between him and the palace¡¯s great doors.
All of them were at least at mid to late Zhuji-stage, and the one who led them, wielding a magnificent fangtian ji spear, seemed to have reached Jiedan.
Were it not for the power of the Zhiming Mirror, this might have been a challenging fight¡ª but Mo Yuan had no fear whatsoever anymore. They would fall, just like the others he had cut down¡ª or they would flee in shame.
The corner of his lips twitched, and he slowly advanced forward.
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¡°It seems Qin-zongzhu must be weaker than I assumed,¡± he mused in a tone of false boredom that hid the bubbling rage beneath, interlacing his fingers together behind his back as he slowly stepped forward. ¡°He has kept so many of Baidong Mountain¡¯s strongest here to guard his precious palace while my allies cut through the weak below like they¡¯re mere bundles of reeds.¡±
¡°You¡ª you are the one who wields the crimson blades!¡± the leader¡¯s eyes went wide, then his brows furrowed as he brandished his weapon. ¡°The one truly behind this attack¡ the demon who has formed a jindan!¡±
Mo Yuan released a short, mirthless chuckle.
¡°Demon?¡± he asked, cocking his head to the side. ¡°You might call me a demon, but what does that make you? If I recall correctly¡ your clan leader was the one who bled a boy of fifteen dry so that his corpse would be filled with the echoes of torment and agony. Between us, who are the true demons?¡±
¡°Lay down your weapons and accept your death¡ª and perhaps some of your followers will be spared.¡±
Mo Yuan paused, a troubled expression crossing his brow, then he rolled his eyes toward the heavens. ¡°Ha. As though I would believe that,¡± he said, then, shaking his head. ¡°On the other hand, I¡¯ll give you one chance to escape. Step away from the palace doors. Open them up and let me inside¡ª and I¡¯ll spare your lives.¡±
¡°Arrogant fool,¡± the leader hissed, then turned to his companions. ¡°Strike him down!¡±
All of them rushed Mo Yuan at once. The crimson blades fluttered about his body like drifting lotus petals, moving fast as the wind with an ominous whistle in their wake. In a matter of moments, six had already fallen, and two more were as good as dead¡ª they¡¯d been wounded by his blades. The others began to hesitate, growing worried. No matter how fiercely they fought, they couldn¡¯t land a single blow on this monster that had come out of nowhere. After thinning their numbers, it was as if he wasn¡¯t even bothering to kill them anymore, simply lacerating their bodies with those fast-moving crimson blades. Minor flesh wounds, like he was toying with them.
These mere Zhuji-stage cultivators were like insects compared to the newly-ascended Mo Yuan, who discovered that he could draw small amounts of vital qi from their bodies over the invisible threads that bound them to his vital weapon. As they grew weaker and more tired with each attempted strike, Mo Yuan became stronger, more invigorated. Maybe it would be good to let them live, so that he could use them as a source of energy this way. He hadn¡¯t gained any strength from those he¡¯d killed¡ª it must be that he could only use this power while the threads remained intact.
The only one who gave him any trouble was their leader¡ª one whose cultivation level surpassed Mo Yuan¡¯s. Still, he wasn¡¯t worried. Even as great gashes were cut through the air by the shining blades of his opponent¡¯s weapon, severing even stone cleanly, Mo Yuan¡¯s crimson blades continued their ceaseless dance, cutting through those attacks before they could reach Mo Yuan, almost involuntarily.
A Jiedan-stage cultivator would not tire so easily, and while most of the others eventually succumbed to wounds that could not heal, their leader fought on unceasingly, amid great flashes of blood-red and pale amber spiritual light. Baiyu Palace¡¯s outer courtyard was in ruins, stone walls and fixtures cut into tiny shards by the repeated strikes. His opponent was by far the stronger, but Mo Yuan used his superior agility to keep himself out of reach and the consistent draw upon his victims¡¯ strength to effortlessly maintain his energy. Not to mention, his spiritual sense gave him an additional edge¡ª following the flow of energy through the man¡¯s body, he could tell in advance when and where he was about to strike, to avoid the devastating blows.
All of those that had reached such heights in their cultivation had endured a heavenly tribulation. Their spirits were not so easily daunted as those who were weaker¡ª while his opponents down below might have fled in fear after seeing their companions fall to Mo Yuan¡¯s crimson blades, this foe would not do so.
No matter.
All Mo Yuan needed was to land a single blow¡ª even a scratch would do.
For that, he needed only the briefest moment of distraction.
Those stationed atop the mountain here, guarding the doors, would not have seen the true power of his crimson blades. In the space between the attacks, Mo Yuan launched himself up to hover in the air, the blood-red glow about his figure intensifying as he clasped the invisible puppeteer¡¯s strings within his fingers.
¡°Bid farewell to your comrades!¡± he called out to his opponent below. Before the Qin clan¡¯s commander could even register Mo Yuan¡¯s words, he suddenly sent great quantities of spiritual power flowing down those threads, brilliant red flashes shooting in every direction across the ruined courtyard. The wounded cultivators didn¡¯t even have a chance to react before that power, sudden and destructive, rushed directly into their meridians. They were overwhelmed in an instant¡ª blood poured from their seven facial apertures, wounds slashing across their bodies from the inside out as though they were suffering qi deviation.
And then, their screams of pain were cut short as their bodies exploded with a force that shattered the stone beneath them and sent blood and fragments of bone flying in all directions. Everything else had simply disintegrated in the force of the explosion¡ª leaving behind nothing but crumbled stone and ash.
The power held within the jindan alone was equal to several times that which flowed through the entirety of a Zhuji cultivator¡¯s body. When he reversed the spiritual flow within the invisible strings, Mo Yuan had effectively mimicked within their bodies what he had endured after falling into the spirit vein¡ª but they had not been so fortunate as he was to survive.
Mo Yuan had depleted the greater part of his spiritual power in that strike, putting himself at a disadvantage¡ª but it was no matter. He had already won.
In the exact moment he had turned the bodies of his foes into bombs, he¡¯d sent one of the crimson blades around behind their leader. While his defense was focused around the front and side to protect from the flying bone, stone shards, and explosions of spiritual power, the crimson blade had traced across his back, leaving a tiny, thin cut, barely deep enough even to draw blood.
It was enough.
Suddenly enraged upon seeing his comrades brutally slaughtered before his eyes, the leader charged forward with a battle cry, prepared to launch a final, devastating attack on Mo Yuan.
Mo Yuan stood perfectly still, without even a hint of fear on his face, and twisted his fingers. In quick succession, he drew a portion of the man¡¯s power into his body to restore his depleted strength¡ª there was still another fight ahead, after all¡ª and then, he tore open that wound.
Before the man¡¯s blow could land, his spine was severed, his lungs slashed, and his heart torn open.
Mo Yuan looked at him as he fell with a blank expression in his blood-red eyes, then lifted the dying man up by his collars.
¡°Thank you, for opening the door for me,¡± he muttered, before kicking the man¡¯s body toward the great doors and giving one final tug on that invisible thread.
Not even the great doors of Baiyu Palace could withstand the power of a detonated jindan. They were blasted open, crumbling to pieces in a flash of bright golden light and revealing the great hall within.
¡°Zongzhu, they¡¯re here!¡± he heard a voice cry out.
In the back of the great hall, a man sat in meditation, dressed richly in white silk robes and silver and jade ornaments¡ª the same Qin-zongzhu upon whose orders Mo Lan had been tormented to death now sat securely within the walls of this great fortress while his own people fought and died outside. Seeing him, Mo Yuan felt rage and disgust boiling up inside of him, the blood-red light in his eyes growing stronger.
Before him was a younger man, rather handsome, dressed in equally fine clothes¡ª but instead of the overwhelming spiritual aura that radiated from the clan leader, this man seemed like he had hardly even established a foundation. He brandished his sword, clearly a first-rate spiritual tool, as he stood glaring toward Mo Yuan, but from his stance to his grip to the weak flow of spiritual qi through his meridians, Mo Yuan couldn¡¯t help but wonder if he¡¯d ever properly wielded that sword in his life.
Had the circumstances been different, Mo Yuan would have found it laughable¡ª as it was, though, this brat was hardly even worth his time.
¡°How dare you set foot here, you ill-bred cur?¡± the younger man shouted as he charged forward. ¡°You¡¯ll pay for attacking Baidong Mountain!¡±
Mo Yuan was unfazed, and simply waved his hand to summon up his twin blades, sending them weaving through the air toward that fool who could barely hold a sword right. A lifetime of education and training, and even Qiu Wei, with her vicious and disorganized fighting style, was more elegant than he was.
The crimson blades shot forward, but were abruptly stopped as they crashed into a sudden wall of silvery-blue spiritual light. A barrier that resembled a smaller version of Baidong Mountain¡¯s great protective array stood between Mo Yuan and his new challenger, dividing them.
Qin-zongzhu stood up, his expression impassive as his fingers extended to maintain the barrier.
¡°Wenying¡ª leave through the back courtyard. I will finish this business here myself.¡±
The younger man barely even hesitated before he turned tail and fled the hall. The clan leader stepped down from the dais, crossing the floor with slow, deliberate steps.
¡°And you. Why have you attacked Baidong Mountain? Do you not understand the risks?¡±
¡°When one¡¯s own brother is cruelly slaughtered,¡± Mo Yuan hissed back, his voice low and threatening, ¡°Then would you fault him for slaughtering his murderers in return?¡±
¡°Whose brother have I killed?¡± Qin-zongzhu asked, brows raised. ¡°I am no barbarian who slaughters indiscriminately, and only those deserving of it are sentenced to execution.¡±
¡°Deserving?¡± Mo Yuan breathed. His chest vibrated with rage. ¡°Xiao-Lan was a boy of fifteen, not yet even come of age. He has never taken a life, and sought only to live his own¡ª and within your cruel prison, by the cruel hands of your subordinates, he was brutally tortured until he died!¡±
There was no reaction from the clan leader, not even the slightest hint of remorse.
¡°Ah¡ you¡¯ve come here about that rogue cultivator boy¡ then, you must be the one who caused such a disturbance at the mountain prison before,¡± he said after a moment of contemplation. ¡°Who are you to say he was not deserving of it, when that boy was already in violation of the laws of the cultivation world?¡±
With each heartless word, Mo Yuan became more and more angry, and beat his fist against the barrier, sparks of silver light flashing off of it.
¡°You! You think yourself beyond reproach, you think the lives of your clan¡¯s people are of greater value than those of my brothers and sisters simply because of the status of your birth¡ª you are more vile than any of those who follow me, you that use your power to snuff out the lives of those who do not even pose a threat!¡± he shouted, his eyes stinging as he continued to beat on the barrier, lashing out with the crimson blades to no avail.
Qin-zongzhu stood on the other side, not responding for quite some time, simply allowing Mo Yuan to continue his fruitless assault on the barrier. Then, he sighed, as though all of this were merely an inconvenience.
¡°Xiao-Lan¡ so that was what you called that boy,¡± he mused, as though recalling the name of some dish sold by street vendors. ¡°I would have shown mercy, you know¡ had you and your fellow heretics simply given up and gone back beyond the mountains once you received my warning. But now, in your search for vengeance you have already killed many of my clan¡¯s people. Certainly, their spirits will not be able to rest easily for as long as you live.¡±
Rage screamed through Mo Yuan¡¯s veins, ringing in his ears. All of that, and he had not even known Mo Lan¡¯s name, nor even cared about how much he had suffered¡ª and he dared to call himself merciful?
¡°Then kill me!¡± he cried out, gritting his teeth in rage. ¡°Stop hiding behind your subordinates, stop hiding behind your palace walls, your barriers, and try your best to kill me!¡±
Qin-zongzhu was still unfazed by his challenge, but nonetheless, he shifted the position of his hands.
Another shimmering pale blue barrier appeared behind Mo Yuan, and then two more on each side, and one above¡ª entirely encasing him between them.
¡°Why would I give you¡ª a thief, a murderer, an invader¡ª the honor of a fight, when I can simply kill you where you stand?¡±
With those words, he pushed his hands closer together
Then, the interlocking barriers he had created began to push in toward one another¡ª he intended to crush Mo Yuan to death between them.