THE SCROLL LIT UP on a drizzling morning. Huaizui sat in a room within the temple, fiddling with a string of moon-and-star bodhi beads as he murmured sutras. A shadow fell across the threshold, but Huaizui didn't turn. He merely struck the wooden bell, its hollow dong ringing through the room, and sighed. "You're awake?"
Mo Ran spun around and saw Chu Wanning standing in the doorway, his slight figure blurring into the daylight.
"Why did Shizun save me?"
"No blood should be shed in Wubei Temple."
Chu Wanning watched him in silence.
"Seeing as you cut open your heart as proof, I recognize your sincerity. You may go down the mountain on your own. From this day on, you need not return."
Chu Wanning didn't move to gather his belongings. He gazed at Huaizui's familiar silhouette amidst the incense and the chanting. "Shizun," he said eventually.
Shizun. Then what? So this is goodbye? Thank you for everything?
Blood had seeped through the gauze bandage around his chest. The knife was out, but his heart still throbbed with pain. After giving his teacher nigh fifteen years of blind faith, all he had received in return was that pronouncement—I will have your spiritual core.
This, on its own, he could accept. But for nearly fifteen years, he had believed Huaizui was kind and compassionate, that he had sympathy for all living creatures, each blade of grass and every tiny ant. He had believed the entire world was as peaceful as Lin'an in the upper cultivation realm.
But all of it was fake; Huaizui had lied to him. The realization was a thousand times more painful than the cracking of his spiritual core.
Chu Wanning closed his eyes. Finally he said, "Farewell, then…Great Master."
He left every bit of his gentleness, trust, and innocence in that dignified monastery. Those were all things that Huaizui had given him. Now, alongside the splinters of his spiritual core and the blood that had run from his body, they were taken from him.
He turned and left.
"I knew he would hate me," Huaizui said softly. "Even if I had followed him down the mountain, he would always hold a grudge against me. So I let him go. From that point onward, I knew he would remember me as selfish and callous. He never acknowledged me again, and I no longer had the right to consider myself his shizun.
"His fifteenth birthday had just passed. Fate had allowed us to walk together for fifteen years, through summers and winters, through joys and sorrows. From that day on, nothing would be the same."
Huaizui swept the steps in the courtyard. The leaves turned from bright green to dull yellow, until the twigs were devoid of vitality. Another winter had arrived. The monk stood beneath the eaves, a thick vestment wrapped around him, squinting out at the snow-covered grounds.
His face was youthful yet, but his eyes were glazed with age. Like any elderly person, he tended to drift into thought if he sat long enough.
"I was already two hundred years old. Memories of my youth gradually grew less vivid. But for some reason, I remembered the days I spent with Chu Wanning more clearly than ever. Sometimes I wondered if this was the sort of concern parents felt toward their children… But what kind of parent could I claim to be? I was no more than a cowardly butcher."
Huaizui continued, "My yin energy waned by the day. I resigned myself to the thought that I would never atone for my sins in this lifetime. I had no desire to go anywhere, so I secluded myself in Wubei Temple year-round. Only when the haitang trees blossomed did I emerge: I'd always pick the most beautiful branch and ask someone to bring it to Chu Xun, just as before.
"I had never been a generous person, and there was only so much I could do. I didn't trust my judgment enough to try again. I imagined the rest of my life would pass like this—until the day someone showed up in my courtyard."
It was deep in the night. A flurry of urgent knocks sounded at the door. Huaizui stood to open it, only to freeze in shock at the sight before him. "You?!"
Over his shoulder, Mo Ran got a clear look at the new arrival's face—it was Chu Wanning. He had a deeply anxious look, and his complexion was wan even in the low light. Strangest of all, though it was a cold winter day, he wore only a thin summer robe. Mo Ran's first thought was that he must've given his cloak to some other freezing refugee, but he quickly realized this couldn't be the case: aside from the lightness of his robe, Chu Wanning was otherwise neatly dressed.
At Huaizui's invitation, he entered the bedroom, flighty as a trapped animal. Without a word, he handed Huaizui an enchanted censer.
A thousand words stopped up Huaizui's throat. In the end, all he asked was, "What…what happened to you?"
"I haven't much spiritual energy left. I'm afraid I won't be able to explain everything to the great master." Chu Wanning's words came out in a rush. "This censer is extremely important. I truly don't know whom to give it to—there are too many uncertainties in this world. I don't know what he'll become in the future, and I don't know who can keep this secret and stay out of danger. I have no choice but to prevail upon you to help me."
"…What are you talking about? Are you unwell?"
Huaizui was baffled, but Mo Ran's head buzzed with sudden recognition, and the world momentarily flashed dark. He realized what was wrong with this Chu Wanning—he had a pierced ear! This Chu Wanning wore a delicate red earring on his left ear, like a tiny spot of cinnabar.
It was such a minute detail, but Mo Ran felt he'd been struck by lightning. He found himself aghast. This wasn't Chu Wanning at all… Rather, this wasn't Chu Wanning from this world. He… He had to be from the past life, from Taxian-jun's timeline—it was the only possible explanation for this detail. Mo Ran remembered with perfect clarity how he had condensed this earring from his own blood, infused with his spiritual energy. It was enchanted to make Chu Wanning more sensitive whenever Mo Ran touched or violated him.
Mo Ran was absolutely certain of it. In fact, he remembered his entire debauched line of thought. After making the earring, he had fucked Chu Wanning to his climax. He'd sucked on Chu Wanning's earlobe, waiting for him to shudder as he came, then pushed the stud into his ear as he convulsed with pleasure. Chu Wanning had groaned, knitting his brows and clutching the bedsheets, but he couldn't throw off the man on top of him.
"Does it hurt?" Mo Ran had said, licking a drop of blood that trickled along the curve of his ear, eyes flashing. "Does it hurt, or does it feel good?"
This sharp earring piercing flesh had been yet another way he conquered that man. It was always painful for a foreign object to enter one's flesh, no matter what it was or where it went. Mo Ran had grown only more eager and impatient at Chu Wanning's pained whimpering. He'd stroked Chu Wanning's jaw, then pulled his face closer to share a sloppy, infatuated kiss. "It's just an earring," he'd rasped. "Why are you shaking?"
But it was an answer he already knew. Without a shred of pity, he'd forced the earring through Chu Wanning's earlobe and brushed his fingertips over the stud. "See—it's pierced you through. It's buried inside you." As Chu Wanning remained stubbornly silent, he'd said: "It's snared in your flesh and blood. From now on, you belong to me."
Chu Wanning from the past life had once come to this world. This knowledge struck terror into Mo Ran's heart. His scalp tingled, and his vision blurred. He could hardly catch his breath as he stared numbly at the scene before him. What was going on?
He tried to gather his wits, to attend to Chu Wanning and Huaizui's conversation, but his shock was too great. He grasped vague snatches of what Chu Wanning said to Huaizui, words like "Space-Time Gate of Life and Death," "destroyed forbidden techniques," and "unstoppable."
He saw Huaizui crumple into a chair, his face ashen, pupils like pinpricks. "How can you prove what you say is true?"
Chu Wanning hesitated. "I can't prove it. I must ask the great master to trust me."
"This is just ridiculous. You're saying you came here from another world through the Space-Time Gate of Life and Death? And in that world, there's someone called Ta… Ta…"
"Taxian-jun."
"There's this Taxian-jun, who's already nearly destroyed the entire cultivation realm? You discovered his secret, so you did everything in your power to open the Space-Time Gate and come to this world to change everything?"
"Not to change everything—to prevent it from happening here. If this continues, they'll master the Space-Time Gate sooner or later. Our world won't be the only one that ends." Chu Wanning paused, his eyes flickering with hazy candlelight. "No universe will be spared."
"This is too absurd," Huaizui mumbled. "This is impossible… It's completely nonsensical…"
The minutes dripped past. Chu Wanning glanced at the water clock by Huaizui's door, urgency gathering in his eyes. "Even if the great master doesn't believe me now, you will soon understand. Before then, I ask only that you seal this censer in the cave on Dragonblood Mountain. I've cast the most important spell on it—the great master can allow it to diffuse on its own. The only thing you have to do is…"
Huaizui looked up at Chu Wanning as if at a madman, or an apparition.
"The only thing you have to do is to prevent anyone from entering that cave," Chu Wanning continued. "After you see the truth of what I'm telling you, find some way to bring myself from this world and the boy named Mo Ran to Dragonblood Mountain together. The spell on the censer will take care of the rest. You needn't worry about anything else."
Huaizui had opened his mouth in feeble protest when a shrill whistle sounded outside. To Mo Ran's ears, it sounded just like the one that had called Taxian-jun back into the rift.
Chu Wanning instantly paled. He fixed Huaizui with a frantic gaze. "Please—you're the only one in this world who can help me. There's no one else I can trust with this."
Hearing Chu Wanning say trust, Huaizui froze, his eyes clouding over with age. Hesitantly, he took the censer and gave Chu Wanning a tiny nod.
The whistle blew again, sharper than before. Chu Wanning glanced outside the window, then said to Huaizui, "Great Master, please guard the cave on Dragonblood Mountain. And—if Taxian-jun appears in this world, or…like I said, if a great Heavenly Rift opens to the ghost realm, turmoil will follow. If that happens, the great master should realize that what I've said is true."
That keening whistle seemed to tear through Mo Ran's eardrums.
Chu Wanning gave Huaizui one last meaningful look, then turned and rushed outside into the night. At first, he thought to bow thrice with hands cupped overhead, as a disciple would to his master, but his fingers stilled halfway to his chest. Finally, he closed his eyes and merely clasped his hands respectfully before him.
Who knew how Huaizui plucked up the courage to jump to his feet. "Don't… Don't you remember what I did?" he cried. "Didn't I do the same thing to you in your world? You'll never believe me!"
But Chu Wanning only shook his head, his face indistinct in the darkness. "Great Master…" His figure grew fainter, more distant. "I'm running out of time… Please, find a way… Use any means necessary. This is too important. Please find a way to convince me, to bring the two of us to Dragonblood Mountain together."
At last, he vanished into the inky sky and glassy stars.
Huaizui ran out into the courtyard. He saw a distant flash of blackness even darker than the night. Chu Wanning was nowhere to be found; all that remained of his sudden visit was the censer in Huaizui's hand. It brimmed with spiritual energy, solid in his grip—proving that this wasn't all a dream.
The vision split and sheared before Mo Ran's eyes. Images from previous scenes cascaded down like an avalanche.
"He said I should use any means necessary, but what could I possibly do?" Huaizui exhaled. "He could never trust me again; he wanted nothing to do with me. I couldn't be certain this wasn't all part of some plot.
"It wasn't until the Heavenly Rift opened in Butterfly Town and Wanning lost his life that I decided to write him a letter after bringing him back from the underworld. I deliberated at length about what to put in that letter—I didn't know how powerful the mastermind behind this was, so I didn't dare put the whole truth into writing. But there was no other way for me to meet with him. His abilities were formidable—after all, he had become the Yuheng Elder of Sisheng Peak. I had no chance of taking him anywhere by force. Finally, I considered that his damaged spiritual core, which had never completely healed, must be giving him some trouble. With this as an excuse, I invited him to Dragonblood Mountain.
"But I had lied to him for fourteen years. No matter how sincere my words, he was unwilling to believe me…" Huaizui huffed out a deep, frustrated sigh. "I've waited all this time. When I imprisoned him on the mountain nearly twenty years ago, I went up every day hoping his attitude had changed. Decades later, I once again went to Dragonblood Mountain every day, wishing he'd return. If only he'd given me one more chance."
The old monk's voice faltered like a kite cut from its string. "I know my days are numbered; I can't wait much longer. In my last days, I made this scroll. After many painstaking revisions, I've included within it many memories I never wanted to share. But I am ultimately still a coward. I didn't want him to see this scroll while I lived… I couldn't bear the look of pain in his eyes. I saw enough of that look for a lifetime when he was fourteen.
"So, Wanning…" Huaizui sighed softly, as though a weight had settled on his shoulders. "By the time you see this…I will already be gone. I'm still very selfish. I didn't want to see you hate me, and so it's not until now, when my death is imminent, that I dare show you the truth—you and the boy named Mo Ran. I'm sorry. Back then, it was your shifu who was wrong. You're alive, you're human; you always have been."
Huaizui fell silent for a long spell. Finally he rasped, "Chu-gongzi, can you forgive me?"
Who knew if the Chu-gongzi he entreated was Chu Wanning today or Chu Xun from two centuries prior?
Huaizui said no more. A wind rose, sending shards of memory scattering like luminous snow or long-drifting seeds, gradually blanketing the ground. Two hundred years of sin and retribution, fourteen years of joy and grief, all piled up like this—
A child grinned. "You're number one, I'm number one, which flower blossoms on the pond? A lotus flower blossoms on the pond."
A youth raised his voice. "If you don't know how to save others, how can you save yourself? If I don't cultivate to immortality, so be it."
Finally, those phoenix eyes fluttered shut. "Farewell, then…Great Master."
All these snatches of the past layered and blurred like a flashing carousel lantern. In the brightest moment, Mo Ran once again saw Huaizui bent over a low table, carving the last stroke into the wood of the sacred tree.
The evening bell tolled.
"I'll call you…Chu Wanning."
The memories battered Mo Ran like waves. He rose and fell within the surf until a sharp shove sent him flying out of the memory scroll. He landed heavily on the gravel outside the cave on Dragonblood Mountain.
It seemed time passed differently within the scroll—in the outside world, it was sunset, a vision of rosy serenity hovering between heaven and earth. As Mo Ran lay there, he could almost believe he'd traveled back to the night, so many years ago, when Huaizui had let a drop of blood fall onto the wood and there came to be a child named Chu Wanning in this world.
He sprawled on the ground, gaze unfocused. "Shizun… Wanning…"
Now he understood why Chu Wanning, always strong-willed, had sobbed so brokenly in his arms. He finally understood. But the cost of this knowledge was too high; it felt like a death by a thousand cuts.
Was it all his fault?
Because of the evils committed by Emperor Taxian-jun, Chu Wanning had spent two lifetimes trying to stop him from upending the world.
Chu Wanning's spiritual core had nearly been carved out.
The savior-gege from Wubei Temple who had saved his life. He wasn't human… He was the spirit of the sacred tree…
Every blow landed like a brick. A single one of these truths would be enough to crush his bones, to say nothing of so many piling up one on top of another. For a moment, Mo Ran could've sworn every bone of his had fractured; he couldn't move if he tried. His heart was in chaos.
His searching gaze landed on Chu Wanning, sitting in silence with his eyes closed. All of a sudden, Mo Ran's remorse coalesced into bone, his pity into flesh, his pain into blood. His desire to protect this man gave him the strength to struggle out of his fear and confusion, to rise up from the mire of those memories. Slowly, he stood and walked over to Chu Wanning.
Chu Wanning opened his eyes and looked at him. Neither spoke.
Mo Ran bent low and wrapped his arms around Chu Wanning. "Shizun, it doesn't matter if you're human or a sacred tree, as long as you're still willing to have me." He tried to hold his tears back, but his voice broke on a sob. "I'll always…"
Always what? Stand by his side? But he wasn't worthy.
Eventually he said, self-effacing and bitter: "I'll always stand before you."
I can't stay with you; I don't deserve you. I'm low and dirty, a blight on the world. But you're pure and clean. I can't stand next to you, Wanning. So please let me stand before you. I'll block all the blood and blades for you—all of it, until the day I die.