AN ABYSSAL RAVINE split the ground before the Martyr's Path, left when Chu Wanning had used the Corpse Destruction technique. Rain roared down its sides and into its depths. Above the ravine, a man dressed in robes of gold-patterned black stood in the air with his back to them, the hilt of Bugui's long blade in his hand. Sensing their approach, his fingertips twitched. Slowly, he turned.
It was as if someone had buried an axe in Chu Wanning's heart. Battered by the howling wind, he stared at the man in front of him in disbelief.
Mo Ran? How could this be?!
Lightning flashed; thunder shook the skies. The pallid light illuminated Emperor Taxian-jun's blood-streaked face. Shi Mei couldn't help taking a step back at the horrific sight, but Chu Wanning was compelled closer.
Taxian-jun's face was crisscrossed with bloody slashes. Not just his face—every inch of exposed skin was marred by red and weeping wounds. He resembled a corpse some butcher had tried to dismember with a dull cleaver, his whole body torn and cracking. Only his face retained some of his original handsomeness.
Chu Wanning's lips were bloodless and pale. He stood in the pouring rain and stared at the mangled walking corpse. The corpse stared back at him, his once-bright eyes filled with bloody tears.
Taxian-jun was barely lucid. His memories and souls warred with each other—perhaps overcome by the pain, he brought a hand up to his face. Between his fingers, dark blood ran with the rain.
"Why did you have to treat me like this?" He spoke with Taxian-jun's rage and Mo-zongshi's confusion, thick lashes fluttering. Chu Wanning couldn't say a word.
"Why did you have to kill me?" he mumbled, eyes unseeing yet filled with Chu Wanning's reflection. His expression slowly metamorphosed into something softer and more helpless. "Shizun," he murmured. "Did I mess up again?"
"No…" Chu Wanning's voice was a whisper.
"Did I make you unhappy again?"
His voice crashed through Chu Wanning's head, demolishing any semblance of rationality. Was that Taxian-jun in the rain? No—no, that was Mo Ran.
Be it Emperor Taxian-jun, be it Mo-zongshi, both of them were Mo Ran.
Mo Ran was drenched in blood. He staggered toward Chu Wanning, his face the white of death beneath streaks of crimson, his eyes open but unfocused, dark with formless heartbreak. "How did I disappoint you this time, for you to treat me this way?"
The freezing rain seeped into Chu Wanning's bones, so cold he shivered. He watched Mo Ran come shambling toward him. Mo Ran was weeping, but all that ran from his eyes was blood.
"Please, don't whip me anymore. It hurts. Even I feel pain. No matter how slow or stupid I am—when you beat me it hurts… Shizun…"
Chu Wanning's shivers became violent tremors; he was so wracked by shudders he could no longer stand. He crumpled to his knees, curling in on himself beneath the furious downpour. Talons seemed to have ripped through his belly. At that moment, he was more like a corpse than Mo Ran.
"I'm sorry," Chu Wanning sobbed. "I'm so sorry…"
Your wounds were as deep as mine, but now I'm the one who's spilled your blood.
He knelt in front of Mo Ran, hunched and shaking. Mustering all the courage he had left, he looked up, but the sight of the body he'd mutilated left him crying almost too hard for words. "It's my fault…"
He didn't know where he'd gone wrong—maybe a walking corpse that still had one soul wasn't truly a corpse, so the Corpse Destruction technique hadn't worked properly. Mo Ran wasn't dead, but his mind was gone. All the suffering, madness, bewilderment, and misery he had endured poured out of him. He was Mo Weiyu, Mo-zongshi, Taxian-jun, Ran-er. A thousand shattered pieces made up this broken man.
"Mo Ran…"
Mo Ran's eyes flickered. He came to a stop, the puddles of rainwater at his feet slowly turning red. The ground was painted in his blood. After a beat, his face twisted with cruelty, the sight terrifying on that mangled face. As if another consciousness had seized control, he began pacing in circles as he raved. "Chu Wanning! You despise this venerable one—you'd stop at nothing to kill this venerable one, isn't that right? This venerable one despises you too! I want to tear you to shreds, to gouge out your belly, to drag you to the grave with me over a hundred thousand lifetimes! You have no right to hold a grudge. You're the one who killed me!"
His sleeves billowed in the wind, and his eyes were wide with rage. So consumed was he by fury it seemed he'd charge forth and crush Chu Wanning's throat in the next moment.
But like a bowstring snapped at the moment of release or a sword broken mid-thrust, there was only a loud crack. Blue light shot into Taxian-jun's chest. His eyes went dark and his expression smoothed; he slowly straightened, standing cool and still beside the Martyr's Path.
Chu Wanning turned to see Shi Mei clutching a boulder for support. His arm was still outstretched from throwing the talisman, his peach-blossom eyes ruthless and glinting.
"That's enough reminiscing about the past." Gritting his teeth, Shi Mei shaped his fingers in a seal and stared at the mutilated Emperor Taxian-jun. "You know our priorities. If you're not dead, hurry up and finish those last thirty pawns!" He panted. "No more distractions."
In the blazing spell light, Taxian-jun's face that had held both kindness and cruelty only moments ago turned as flat as still water and cold as frost. The madness and resentment in his eyes vanished with the rest of his emotions.
Taxian-jun bowed to Shi Mei. The long blade in his hand lit up once more as he answered numbly, "Yes. Master."
He raised his hand and set down a shield spell to protect Shi Mei. Then he took to the sky like an eagle, black robes flaring behind him as he soared toward the front hall.
Yet someone stood in his way.
Chu Wanning was soaked to the bone; his heart had been crushed to a pulp. He wanted nothing more than to fall apart, to crumble into mud or ashes and be swept away in the roaring storm. But he had to stop him.
If only people's lives could be made a little easier. Wouldn't that be nice?
Mo Ran had said this to him once, long ago when he was lucid. No matter how much Chu Wanning hurt, how exhausted he was, he had to hold out to the very end.
"Huaisha," Chu Wanning rasped. "Come."
Taxian-jun stared as the familiar golden light gathered in his palm, brows drawn low.
Huaisha. The pouring rain. An endless sea of suffering.
It was just the same as that day many years ago. They'd both given everything in that fight, pouring a lifetime of training into a battle that'd split the skies and torn open the heavens. How had that past battle between master and disciple come once again, through the deluge of time, to shake the mortal world again?
Some things were simply fated to be. Just as Nangong Si was doomed to die in his prime, Ye Wangxi was forced to become a pretty young master, and Sisheng Peak was cursed to calamity—Taxian-jun and Chu Wanning were destined to cross swords in every lifetime.
Whether born from love or hate, their fate was inescapable.
"Bugui. Come."
Jade-green light illuminated Taxian-jun's eyes in the wake of that growled summons. Shi Mei had exerted the strongest possible control; there was no ripple of emotion in his eyes. They reflected Chu Wanning's lonely silhouette in the rain like a hellish mirror.
Bugui tore through the clouds, the long blade sweeping through the storm. Two figures—one black, one white—ravaged each other upon the churning winds, spiritual energy clashing. They traded blows too swift for the eye to see. The gale kicked gravel into the air, and water flew from their bodies like dust whipped up by the wind or seafoam from white-capped waves. Neither let their guard down for a moment; both fought with all their strength until they reached the Heaven-Piercing Tower.
The force of their duel shook the earth. Everyone on and around the mountain sensed it and exchanged astonished glances.
"Is that Chu Wanning?"
"Wh-why is he fighting Mo Ran? Aren't they on the same side?"
Rain beat down like the hooves of warhorses; at the top of Sisheng Peak, the golden light in Chu Wanning's hands arrowed toward Taxian-jun's chest. Before the light could strike, there was an ear-splitting boom—flaming crimson exploded from Taxian-jun's palms with the power of a volcanic eruption, devouring the golden light like a flow of molten rock.
Shattered tile went flying; trees and plants were yanked into the air by their roots.
"Watch out!" Jiang Xi, leading their forces against the pawns, was first to shout a warning. He raised a barrier to protect those around him, shielding them from the falling stone and towering trees. Yet even he faltered beneath the force of the onslaught—he spat out a mouthful of blood, sinking to one knee. His teeth were stained red as he yelled, "Open barriers! I can't hold it off a second time!"
Finally the cultivators with him roused themselves, summoning barriers with panicked haste. They looked up toward the Heaven-Piercing Tower in shock. Mo Weiyu and Chu Wanning… What kind of strength was that?
Before the tower, master and disciple were locked in fierce combat. Teeth gritted, Chu Wanning met Taxian-jun strike for strike. Aside from him, there was likely no one else in the world who could bear the brunt of this revenant's attacks.
But Chu Wanning could. Taxian-jun's every lunge and leap were familiar, every movement something Chu Wanning had taught him right here at Sisheng Peak—perhaps in front of this very Heaven-Piercing Tower. He'd personally adjusted Mo Ran's posture and repeated the teaching mantras, guiding him from his beginnings as a fumbling youth to this clash of blades as equals.
This was the second ultimate duel between Chu Wanning, the Beidou Immortal, and his disciple Mo Weiyu, the Emperor Taxian-jun. The first time, Chu Wanning had come with some hope in his heart. He'd thought he could save this disciple that'd gone astray, so he'd done all he could. This time, Chu Wanning knew everything was over. Even if he won, the man he most wanted to save was lost forever.
"Stand in my way if you want to die," snarled Taxian-jun.
But Chu Wanning saw the young Mo Ran practicing with his sword. The youth's forehead was sheened with sweat; as the sun peered over the horizon, he leapt from the thin bamboo poles and executed three strikes before landing smoothly on the ground. He turned to Chu Wanning with a toothy grin, his cheeks dimpling deeply. "Shizun, Shizun, did I do it right?"
Flames pillared up from Taxian-jun's palms and shot toward Chu Wanning's chest. Chu Wanning dodged aside, and Taxian-jun's bloody hands slid past his lapels, missing him by a hairsbreadth.
When Mo Ran had sparred with him at the Red Lotus Pavilion, he'd used the exact same move. His palm had been smooth and well-shaped then, unmarred by injury. He'd looked so gentle as he'd turned to Chu Wanning and grabbed his hand with a smile. "That's enough. If we keep sparring, we're never going to stop."
The long blade shrilled, the sword hummed. Chu Wanning remembered Yuliang Village, when Mo Ran had so excitedly dragged him over to watch the opera by the riverside. The copper cymbals had crashed, and the actor's strident voice had carried over the crowd. "My king has met his end—" The painted faces had whirled onstage as Mo Ran watched with bated breath—but when Chu Wanning tilted his head, Mo Ran had instantly turned from the stories he'd longed to see since childhood, gracing him with a smile. "Do you like it?"
His eyes had been pitch-black and so very bright.
Chu Wanning had thought the show tedious; every squeaking syllable out of the actors' mouths stretched for the length of three. He hadn't understood why anyone would enjoy it—but now he wanted nothing more than to go back to that stage at Yuliang Village. When the actor spat a blaze of flame at the river, it had seemed to set the waters themselves alight.
If only that performance could have lasted a lifetime. If only—
In his moment of distraction, Huaisha was knocked from his grip.
It had happened just this way back then. After his holy sword tumbled from his hand, he'd leapt backward and summoned Tianwen. But this time, Taxian-jun was even stronger. The point of that naked black blade was leveled at his heart before he could retreat.
Taxian-jun narrowed his eyes. His vision was a gray blur; he couldn't tell whom his sword was pointed at. All he knew was that his enemy was flagging. His opponent was like someone running through a field at night, surrounded on all sides by danger and swaying reeds, relying only on hopeless desperation.
"A nuisance," he said tonelessly. He brought the blade down.
A golden folding fan scythed through the air toward Taxian-jun's face. He instantly retracted Bugui and flicked it up to block the blow. But the golden fan had been thrown with terrifying force—it knocked Taxian-jun back a step.
Three beams of blue and red light streaked down from the sky like bolts of lightning, caging Taxian-jun in.
"Who's there?!" he snarled. He couldn't move; all he could do was gnash his teeth and roar. "Show yourselves!"
In the swirling storm, three hazy figures stood atop the Heaven-Piercing Tower. They leapt down with the rain and landed lightly on the steps, their faces coming into view.
One had an irreverent cast to his features, a fur coat over his shoulders, and a pendant adorning his brow; another wore his golden hair tied back and out of his freezing-cold eyes. The man who stood at the front looked to be thirty or forty years of age. He was dressed in silver-blue armor, his eyes sharp and his expression stern. A scar crossed his left brow. There was no arrogance in him, only a steady competence that brought Xue Zhengyong to mind.
The man raised his hand and caught the golden fan that'd come whizzing back. He looked up, his eyes touched by age.
The interlopers were the Mei brothers from the past life as well as…
Lightning crackled through the skies.
Chu Wanning stared at the man's face—so this was the other world's Xue Meng.