UNDERSTAND?
What was there to understand? Shi Mingjing had hidden his identity from Sisheng Peak from the start. All those years, he'd avoided the subject of his parents; whenever it was brought up, he'd say a scant few words before looking so grieved no one had the heart to press him further. A lie always had its flaws; false stories told at length revealed their holes. Shi Mei wasn't ignorant of such basic truths. In hindsight, even when he was still a boy, Shi Mei never cried, no matter what kind of injury or turmoil he endured.
"Come. This venerable one will bring you to look at the other end of the Martyr's Path."
The carriage was of demonic origin, cast of pure gold and emblazoned with scenes of the demon territories inlaid in silver. Two figures occupied the front of the carriage. On the left was a bearded man, his face twisted in a mask of fury and a set square clutched in his hands. The sculptor must've borne him some terrible grudge, for the statue's face was so ugly and misshapen anyone who clapped eyes on it would despise him on sight. On the right was a pudgy woman, her face set in stern lines and her hands gripping a compass. Her, the artist had spared—though she, too, was ugly, she was at least bearably so.
The most unsettling element hovered before the team of horses: a set of dismembered limbs and a bloody severed head, held suspended with spiritual energy. Upon closer inspection, they were only wooden carvings, not real body parts, but Chu Wanning had seen the fake Gouchen at Jincheng Lake and recognized his likeness immediately.
"All the carriages in the demon realm are like this." Taxian-jun glanced at the vividly carved head. "It's been this way for thousands of years."
They took their seats inside, the little bells on the horses' bridles chiming as the carriage swayed. Taxian-jun sprawled out comfortably. "You can tell who those statues are meant to be, right?"
"Fuxi and Nüwa."
"Yes." He laughed. "The ol' Demon Lord hates the heavenly realm so much he'd make the gods pull his carriage for a lifetime if he could."
"But Shennong was spared?"
"That I don't know; Hua Binan never mentioned it. But the legends say Shennong was kind and magnanimous; he never involved himself in any violence, nor was he particularly close to Fuxi and Nüwa. The sly old fox probably kept his hands clean of the whole thing."
Silent, Chu Wanning turned toward the window, looking out at the crimson path before them.
The demon horses ran swiftly. In just a few minutes, they'd made it to the end of that bloody bridge. They exited the carriage, white bone bridge beneath their feet and an endless sea of clouds before their faces. The gate to the demon realm was hundreds of times larger than it looked from Sisheng Peak. This close, its full size and details were inescapable: It was impossibly huge, seeming to reach up through the skies and down through the earth, hissing and crackling with demonic flame in the rain. Next to it, a mortal seemed as insignificant as an ant on the trunk of a great tree, a single grain in the vastness of the ocean.
Chu Wanning stared at that set of titanic doors. Every inch of its surface was covered in intricately detailed carvings depicting scenes of the five realms, beginning with the demon realm at the top, descending through the ghost realm, fae realm, and mortal realm, and ending with the heavenly realm at the door's foot. The engravings were majestic, but they radiated an indescribable evil.
"Does it feel very strange?" Taxian-jun came to his side and gazed at the doors with him. "The first time this venerable one saw it, this venerable one couldn't figure it out either."
Chu Wanning didn't respond.
"It took the better part of an hour before this venerable one realized what was wrong." But it was clear he wasn't going to waste another hour letting Chu Wanning stare at it as well. "The carvings aren't made of the same stone as the door. They were embedded later," he said. "They're all made of the bones of gods."
Chu Wanning whirled to look at him.
Bathed in the light of the demonic flame, Taxian-jun looked even more volatile. "In that primordial battle between the gods and demons, the Demon Lord ordered all the captured gods flayed and dismembered. Their bones were engraved and set in the doors leading to the demon realm."
A gust of wind snapped through his robes. "From then on, any living thing entering the demon realm would see how many heavenly gods its inhabitants had slain. It's a declaration that the demon race behind those doors will never share the same skies as the gods again."
He looked at that disquieting sight a beat longer. "It's about time," said Taxian-jun. "Now that you understand what we're doing, are you still going to waste your breath on reproach?"
"Slaughtering everyone in two worlds just to pave the way home." Chu Wanning looked up. Though he knew Taxian-jun was a puppet on strings, he couldn't help sneering. "If not reproach, were you expecting praise?"
Before Taxian-jun could answer, the shuffle of footsteps rose behind them. They looked back to see Mu Yanli leading a massive throng out of the back mountains of Sisheng Peak. She clearly hadn't expected to find them here; she blinked in surprise, eyes flicking to Taxian-jun's companion.
"How could you bring him here?" Her eyes never left Chu Wanning as she questioned Taxian-jun. "Think before you act."
"This venerable one can guess what he'll do just by looking at him," said Taxian-jun coolly. "You needn't worry."
"This place is key to the Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts' return. Don't you know—"
Taxian-jun had no interest in wasting his breath. "Is there anyone in that horde of garbage you keep around capable of matching him in a fight?"
Mu Yanli shut her mouth.
"Having him by this venerable one's side is more secure than locking him in a cage sealed with ten different wards. This venerable one's doing you a favor keeping an eye on him—how have you still got so much shit to spew?"
"You—!"
"What?" Taxian-jun peered idly at her, his gaze frigid. "If that's not good enough, this venerable one will put him right back and wash my hands of the whole thing. You figure out how to keep him contained—but make sure you don't slip up and let him kill Hua Binan."
Mu Yanli regarded him in stony silence, then changed the subject, seething. "Very well. I've brought some pawns; put them in. A-Nan captured more people from the other world; they're imprisoned at Sisheng Peak. After you deal with these, hurry back and make more pawns."
She left with a sweep of her sleeves. Taxian-jun glanced at Chu Wanning and smiled, his cheeks dimpling deeply. "A new shipment of materials? It's your lucky day. Would you like to see how this venerable one builds the bridge?"
Sacrificing living people to a floating bridge was a horror beyond imagining. That night, Chu Wanning had a terrible dream. Taxian-jun stood at the end of the bridge atop a pile of shattered corpses. From hearts to livers to stomachs to spleens, each human organ and every scrap of mangled flesh had grown a crimson mouth with which to scream.
"I don't want to die…"
"Give me back my life… Give me back my life…"
In that heap of mutilated corpses, he saw a part of Xue Meng's face, saw Xue Zhengyong's eyes and Madam Wang's body. He saw Huaizui's hand, spotted with age. He threw himself at them, screaming, "Xue Meng! Sect Leader! Mada—"
His voice died in his throat.
Amidst that sea of scarlet, Mo Ran slowly turned. He wore his old disciple's uniform, and his eyes were soft and sad. "Shizun," he said. "Help me… I don't want to die, I don't want to be like this. Save me…"
Chu Wanning jolted awake with a gasp. His back was soaked in sweat; he wanted to sit up, but his wrists were bound with Taxian-jun's spells. He couldn't move.
The room was silent but for his ragged breathing. The water clock dripped, water trickling from its spout like the tears of the dead.
"Is anyone there…?"
He was skin and bones after all he'd been through, slender and frail. He lay on the bed, so slight he almost disappeared beneath the blankets.
The memories of the past and his mistakes of the present; those piles of the dead and the hopelessness of his future: Each and every one hung as a weight upon his shoulders, heavy enough to grind even the steeliest resolve to ash. Chu Wanning's eyes were vacant and dull. He stared mutely into the darkness as the dream slipped away, but reality wasn't much better than his nightmare. Upon waking, he looked only more harrowed.
"Is anyone there?" he called again.
Liu-gong came hobbling in, much older than Chu Wanning remembered him. After all, it'd been years since he'd died in this world.
The old servant could read him like a book. "Zongshi, did you have a bad dream?"
Chu Wanning nodded sluggishly.
"I'll go warm a pot of ginger tea for you."
"That won't be necessary." Chu Wanning looked up at him, his eyes wet and glassy in the dim. "Where is Mo Ran? Is he still on the Martyr's Path?"
Silence answered him.
"How many more people did he kill?"
Old Liu said nothing for a long time. "Zongshi." He sighed. "Don't ask any more questions."
The water clock plinked in the corner. Wind and rain rustled outside.
"This old servant doesn't know much about cultivation, but ever since the Space-Time Gate was fully opened, I knew there was no way back. I'm sure Zongshi understands this too."
Chu Wanning's lips parted. He screwed his eyes shut, hooking his fingers around the scarlet chain of spiritual energy binding his wrists. Taxian-jun had been wary of him since he'd failed his assassination attempt. When idle, Taxian-jun watched over him personally; when called to build the path home for the demon clan, he locked Chu Wanning in Wushan Palace.
"Zongshi…you've done enough. It's been two lifetimes. You've done all you can." Liu-gong's voice was thin and reedy, like an autumn leaf clinging to a branch. "These are the last days we have. Just let it go like the rest of us have done. Everything's coming to an end. There's nothing to be done. Why not enjoy the time you have left? Don't torment yourself."
Despite Chu Wanning's protests, Liu-gong brought him a bowl of ginger tea and watched him drink. In the past life, the old man had been careful; he knew when to speak up and when to keep his silence, which was why he'd lasted so long at Taxian-jun's side. But on this miserable, rainy night, as he looked at Chu Wanning—driven past the point of endurance and worn thin by despair—his eyes came to rest on his face, paler than even the ceramic bowl in his hands, and his feelings grew complicated.
Liu-gong didn't know how to persuade him. "Have some more," he mumbled. "At least finish the bowl… Ginger tea drives out the cold, and everyone says nightmares are caused by the chill. If you drink it before bed, you won't have bad dreams." His voice dropped to a murmur. "My son used to have nightmares all the time. Whenever I brought him ginger tea, he slept soundly…"
But those words were too quiet for Chu Wanning to hear.
The old servant helped him finish the tea and left with the tray in hand. When he stepped out of the room, he wiped at his eyes. The old man had a soft heart, but he couldn't change anything. The realization bent his stooped back lower as he disappeared down the end of that long hallway.
Old Liu was right. The time to stop Shi Mei had been before the Space-Time Gate opened in the first place. They'd missed their chance, and the consequences were irreversible.
Chu Wanning sat alone in Wushan Palace. He'd lost to Shi Mei. In the past life, he'd discovered the truth too late—all his planning, all his sacrifice, had only delayed this catastrophe by a dozen years. In the end, they'd come back to the beginning. He'd done everything he could, yet it had all come to nothing.
Nearly all the ancient texts reported that tearing apart time and space would call down heavenly retribution. Yet even without this punishment, the two worlds had been destroyed past repair. These were the end times; everyone could feel it. But with only his cognizance soul, Taxian-jun felt no unease. In fact he was quite content with his lot.
That day, he returned with a jug of pear-blossom white and poured two cups. "The Martyr's Path is pretty much complete."
Chu Wanning answered him with silence.
"Once Hua Binan's accomplished his goal, things will settle down." He took a sip of his long-missed pear-blossom white and grinned. "Mm, tastes just the same." He raised his eyes. "Once they've all gone back to the demon realm, do you want to live in this world with this venerable one, or should this venerable one go through the Space-Time Gate and keep you company in the other one?"
"Where's Shi Mei?"
"Shi…" Taxian-jun blinked, and those dark brows drew together, confusion and pain scrawled over his face. He set down his cup and kneaded at his temples.
Chu Wanning watched his every move. Hua Binan really had made a ruin of his mind. To Taxian-jun, the concept of "Shi Mei" was like a blank void. He physically couldn't think beyond it. Even trying gave him a splitting headache. He hurled his cup aside, and in the flickering candlelight, stared in red-eyed exhaustion at the man before him. "I don't know." He closed his eyes and pulled Chu Wanning into standing in front of him. Still seated, he buried his face in Chu Wanning's stomach and breathed deeply of his haitang scent. "Don't ask me again."
Taxian-jun was just as possessive of Chu Wanning as he had been in the first life—perhaps even worse. This corpse that should have had no emotions at all seemed terrified Chu Wanning would disappear again, or die. He used the strongest spells and techniques at his disposal to keep him trapped. In the daytime, Taxian-jun left to make Zhenlong pawns to pave the Martyr's Path. At night, he entwined his limbs with Chu Wanning's again and again—as if only the wildest lovemaking could soothe the anxiety in his heart, as if he could only convince himself he wasn't dreaming by burying himself in the warmth of Chu Wanning's body.
"Wanning…"
In the dead of night, the man asleep beside him mumbled, "Pay attention to me…"
At such times, Chu Wanning felt the corpse wrapped around him had a soul, though he knew it to be impossible. The heart in his chest beat strong and steady, and his face was that of the dead young man Chu Wanning had lost. When he hoarsely said the name "Wanning," something like love was audible in Taxian-jun's voice.