Within the illusory scene, Xu Shuanglin's eyes widened. Many
of those watching followed suit.
Mo Ran had a vague feeling that something wasn't right. He'd lived
two lifetimes, and when he considered this conversation in the context of
what he knew from the past life, some thought-provoking details emerged.
He had been aware of Ye Wangxi's feelings for Nangong Si for two
reasons: In the past lifetime, before Ye Wangxi died, she expressed her wish
to be buried with Nangong Si. Ye Wangxi's identity as a woman had also
been common knowledge before then—because Nangong Liu himself had
arranged for her to marry Nangong Si. It was clear now that Nangong Si's
father had been seeking a dual-cultivation vessel for his son. But not long
after the betrothal, Nangong Si had met an unexpected end, while
Ye Wangxi had lived on… Mo Ran couldn't help wondering if Nangong
Si's death back then had been entirely coincidental.
I'd say not, he thought.
In the illusion, Xu Shuanglin's hands balled into fists. His smile
remained, but his tone grew chilly. "You want Little Ye-zi to marry A-Si?"
"Mn, she's the best choice."
"How so?" Xu Shuanglin laughed. "You wanted to train her as the
commander of the shadow guard, so you turned her into what she is now,
neither man nor woman. Now you want to give her to Si-er? Aren't you
worried that Si-er will scorn her?"
"He's actually none too pleased about it. I used to see him chatting
and laughing with Ye Wangxi all the time, and he's always been good to
her, so I thought he would accept it. But when I told him, he was furious!
He said he doesn't like Ye Wangxi at all—he was just looking out for her
because it's tough being a girl in the shadow guard. He refused the
engagement."
Xu Shuanglin was silent.
"But how could I allow it? He got into a huge row with me, saying
I don't take his decisions seriously, that I'm arranging his life as I please.
And he's been avoiding Ye Wangxi ever since—these days he wants
nothing to do with her. The more I try to bring him around, the worse his
attitude. Now he even accuses me of siding with Ye Wangxi. The boy
doesn't know what's good for him." Nangong Liu fumed. "Is he rejecting
her because he doesn't like her looks?"
"If the previous sect leader suddenly told you to marry a woman you
didn't care for, would you do it?" Xu Shuanglin asked, quite sensibly.
"I doubt it's a question of looks. You really don't respect him at all."
"He's too shallow! If he's going to take a wife, he might as well pick
a useful and virtuous one. If it's pretty girls he's after, nothing's stopping
him from taking a concubine after his health is stable." Nangong Liu
sighed. "It's my fault for not…" He coughed. "For not recognizing
Ye Wangxi's feelings for Si-er earlier. If she still looked the way she used
to, Si-er would definitely like her."
"That's preposterous," said Xu Shuanglin. "Si-er still wouldn't accept
it."
"Then he'd rather die? Dual cultivating with a man with an unstable
spiritual core like his will be agonizing. If he married an ordinary woman…
she couldn't withstand it…" Nangong Liu took a deep breath. "But
Ye Wangxi is willing, because she loves him. She can take it."
"What do you mean, she's willing?!"
"I've asked her."
"What?!"
"I've asked her. I've already talked to her about this," Nangong Liu
said. "She worries more for Si-er's affliction than her own life."
Xu Shuanglin lowered his head in silence, his thoughts inscrutable.
"That girl is a fool," he said after a long pause.
By this point, Mo Ran was near certain—there was no way that in the
past life Nangong Si had simply contracted some illness and died. It was
vastly more likely that Xu Shuanglin had personally put him in the grave.
With Nangong Si dead, Ye Wangxi could live.
That Nangong Si still lived in this lifetime was likely a stroke of luck
in the form of Song Qiutong. As a Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feast, Song
Qiutong was ideally suited for dual cultivation. If she were to marry
Nangong Si, his father would have no complaints—in fact, Nangong Liu
probably felt like a meat pie had dropped from the heavens. He would no
longer push Ye Wangxi to marry Nangong Si. And since Ye Wangxi and
Nangong Si were no longer engaged, Xu Shuanglin had no reason to move
against Nangong Si in the current lifetime.
All this made perfect sense. Yet there was one thing that still
mystified Mo Ran—why did Xu Shuanglin, who seemed every bit a
deranged monster, care so deeply for Ye Wangxi? She was no more than his
foster daughter, after all… What was this sly, mercurial man so fixated on?
What was he after?
This memory was fairly brief and ended shortly. When the illusion lit
up again, it showed a scene from many years ago.
Nangong Liu was noticeably younger and thinner. He held a small
object in his hand that twinkled with a jade-green light. As the onlookers
peered closely at it, they realized it was the ring of the Rufeng Sect leader.
Once on its wearer's finger, this ring couldn't be taken off until the
day the wearer left their post. If Nangong Liu was holding the ring, he
hadn't yet officially become the master of Rufeng Sect.
An attendant entered and knelt in greeting. His robes were splattered
with blood, as though he'd just stepped off the battlefield. This must be the
night Nangong Liu slew his master and reclaimed Rufeng Sect's ring.
"Sect Leader, how should we deal with Luo Fenghua's body?"
Nangong Liu turned the ring in his hand. "Bury him in the heroes'
tomb," he replied after a moment of consideration. "Regardless of all else,
we were once master and disciple. Allow him to rest in dignity."
"Yes sir!" The attendant withdrew.
Mo Ran furrowed his brow—this couldn't be right. According to the
previous memory, the Nangong brothers' teacher, Luo Fenghua, had been
hacked to pieces by Nangong Liu. His body had been thrown into the blood
pool of hell, where he'd been transmogrified into a vicious ghost. He had
fallen into the Infinite Hells, never to reincarnate. Why was Nangong Liu
saying he wanted to bury his master's intact body in the heroes' tomb?
Within the illusion, Nangong Liu rubbed the sect leader's glimmering
ring. A strange and complicated light flashed in his eyes, containing both
trepidation and longing.
His throat bobbed. At last, he slowly lifted his hand. Under the soft
glow of the candlelight, he solemnly slid the ring onto his thumb. He stared
at his hand, examining it carefully. The corners of his mouth slowly curled,
as if to herald a brilliant, delighted smile. But before the smile had spread
over half his face, it froze.
Nangong Liu screamed and toppled from the sect leader's throne, his
body convulsing.
"Ahh! Ahhh!"
"Sect Leader!"
"Sect Leader, what's wrong?"
Attendants rushed to help him. But none expected that when
Nangong Liu lifted his head, his face would be bathed in blood. Countless
tiny cuts had opened on his face, perfectly smooth and healthy moments
ago. The bizarre wounds tore open and healed in an endless cycle, gushing
blood without cease.
"What's going on?!" Nangong Liu cried in panicked terror. "It
hurts… It hurts so bad… Why… Why is this happening? What's going
on?!"
Footsteps sounded outside the door.
A man walked into the room outlined by moonlight, stepping onto
the ice-cold brick with slender bare feet. He came before Nangong Liu,
lifted the hem of his robes, and dropped to one knee.
The newcomer was none other than a younger Xu Shuanglin. He
leaned down and brought Nangong Liu's face closer to examine it carefully.
Nangong Liu gasped for breath, his tears, snot, and blood mixing miserably.
Xu Shuanglin frowned in disgust. "How did this happen?"
"I don't…know… I don't know… Shuanglin-xiansheng…
Xiansheng, please save me…"
Back then, Xu Shuanglin was still one of Nangong Liu's advisors; he
didn't yet merit the title of elder.
Looking over the writhing Nangong Liu, Xu Shuanglin took hold of
his right hand. When he saw the ring glittering there, his expression
changed. "There's a curse of ten thousand calamities on this ring?"
The aides gathered nearby gasped in horror. Only Nangong Liu
seemed to be lost in a trance of pain, oblivious to the details of this lethal
curse. He raised his tear-streaked face in confusion. Glistening snot leaked
from his nose, mingling with blood and dripping onto the tiles. "Ah, what?
What's that?"
"It's a deadly curse." Xu Shuanglin wore an ugly expression. "Luo
Fenghua left a terrible curse on this ring. Under its influence, the next
wearer's skin will tear open under the slightest bit of moonlight, consigning
them to a life worse than death…every single night."
"What?!"
"That's not all." Xu Shuanglin ran his fingers along the ring's jade
stone. He closed his eyes and sensed a rush of spiritual power from it.
"When there's a full moon, even if you don't take a step outside, even if
you hole up and avoid the moon's light, you'll still feel you're being hacked
to pieces. There's no way to escape it…" He opened his eyes and glanced at
Nangong Liu, who was curled on the ground, inhumanly wretched. "The
only respite is death," Xu Shuanglin finished softly.
Beneath the foul layer of gore, Nangong Liu's pupils contracted. He
looked like an oversized rat seized by panic, or like a snake surveying a
gloomy cave. He twitched, almost comically, and muttered, "The only
respite is death?"
"Mn."
"The curse, it can't—it can't be broken?"
"It can't be broken," Xu Shuanglin responded. "At least I can't think
of a way right now… Perhaps later, you could…"
Before he could finish, Nangong Liu broke free of his grasp.
Screaming and cackling, he staggered down the stairs, leaving a trail of
blood to meander across the cold, bright tiles. As he wailed and shrieked,
his voice grew so distorted, so shrill, that many of the onlookers had to
cover their ears.
"Ha ha ha—a curse? You cursed me? Luo Fenghua! You stole the
sect leader's seat from my family, the Nangong clan! I left your corpse
untouched when I ousted you, which was already…already perfectly just!
You actually cursed me? How could you have the heart—how could you
have the nerve! I wanted to acknowledge…the favor of your teaching…and
bury you…in the heroes' tomb… Hah! The heroes' tomb! But you'll have
me suffer each night, my skin shredded to pieces—the only respite is
death!" He howled, dragging himself inch by bloody inch to the gate of the
main hall.
He slumped in the dark shadow of the hall's great bronze gates, his
clawlike fingers twitching ominously. Without warning, he struck the
ground with his hand. "The only respite is death! How could you be so
heartless! Why would you be so heartless—bastard! You bastard! You
ruined my life!"
"Sect Leader…" Unable to watch any longer, an attendant
approached and tried to help him to his feet, but Nangong Liu bellowed and
snarled. He looked utterly deranged. His face, presently a gory mess, had
ever exuded a feeble and incompetent air. But now, a deep hatred was
etched across his features. It danced in his pupils like wildfire, consuming
the last scrap of his rationality.
"Let my…first order…as sect leader…be known…" Nangong Liu
screamed hysterically.
The attendants knelt to hear the command.
"The previous sect leader, Luo Fenghua, has committed terrible
crimes…of utmost evil… He cannot be pardoned! I command you to take
his remains…and hack them into pieces… Turn him into paste!"
Xu Shuanglin stood calmly off to the side. He listened with his eyes
lowered, his expression unreadable.
As his face tore open once more, Nangong Liu could no longer bear it
and collapsed into desperate sobs. But he still completed his first order as
leader of Rufeng Sect as he cried, grinding each word between his teeth.
"Throw his body…into the blood pool…"
Your curse will mutilate me; the only respite is death. I'll throw you
into the Infinite Hells, never to reincarnate.
The scene faded on a Nangong Liu staring with unseeing eyes, his
voice hoarse as a broken xun as he muttered, "Luo Fenghua, you bastard…
You fucking bastard…"
The shards of memory scattered apart once again and gathered like
snowflakes. The crowd was enthralled by the drama of Rufeng Sect's
scandals laid bare. Some, like Ye Wangxi and Nangong Si, had no choice
but to watch; the events depicted concerned them personally. But most of
the audience was simply thrilled by this glimpse into the sordid secrets of
others.
Envy was the world's ugliest emotion. Of those who had been invited
to Nangong Si's wedding, how many had come to pay their sincere respects
to Rufeng Sect? Upon walking through the magnificent palace gates,
treading upon the spiritual stones worth their weight in gold, seeing those
seventy-two stately cities—how many people felt pure admiration, without
an ounce of jealousy? The loftier the edifice, the greater the crowd watching
when it collapsed. These people would litter the ground with shells of
melon seeds as they gossiped, spittle flying a yard with each word. Along
every avenue and alleyway, over a cup of tea or after a meal, the suffering
of others was always the headiest spice for conversation.
Mo Ran almost couldn't bear to continue watching, but his need to
understand the situation's layered complexities outweighed his distaste. Xu
Shuanglin's memories seemed legitimate, and they offered an explanation
for everything that had happened at Jincheng Lake and Peach Blossom
Springs. Yet Mo Ran felt vaguely that a piece was missing. Some elements
in this last memory didn't add up. But which ones?
He knitted his brows and pondered in gloomy silence.
Suddenly he saw a strange flash of light out of the corner of his eye.
With the new illusion taking shape, no one had bothered to look beyond the
forest, and therefore no one had noticed—
Mo Ran stood frozen, his face drained of color. Then he yelled at the
top of his lungs: "It's apocalyptic fire!"
Everyone turned. "Apocalyptic fire? Where?"
"Over there—it's over there!"
"No! It's over there too!"
While everyone had been mesmerized by Xu Shuanglin's memories,
Rufeng Sect's seventy-two cities had gone up in raging scarlet flames. The
fire was yet distant, and the forest was dense; the blaze was easy to miss if
their attention was elsewhere.
Apocalyptic fire was no natural occurrence—this type of spirit-fueled
inferno could only be doused by a great rainstorm. It would otherwise be
unstoppable until it consumed everything in its path, leaving behind not a
single blade of grass.
Thick smoke billowed. The light of the flames was as water spilled
on silk, rapidly blurring at the edges. In the distance, one bright arrow after
another streaked like meteors from the seventy-two cities. But how could
they be meteors? These were the Rufeng Sect disciples fleeing the
conflagration on their swords.
Many blanched at this sight. "What's going on?" they cried. Even
more turned on their heels and started running back toward Poetry Hall,
calling the names of their companions.
Xue Zhengyong's face fell—Madam Wang was still in the hall, and
she couldn't ride a sword… "A-Ran! Yuheng! I'll leave Meng-er to you
guys. I gotta go check on my wifey!"
Mo Ran was worried too. He nodded. "Uncle, hurry, get Aunt out of
there. We'll be here—I won't let anything happen to Xue Meng."
Xue Zhengyong clapped him heartily on the shoulder and promptly
took off toward the flame-wreathed Poetry Hall.
Xu Shuanglin stood unmoving as chaos broke out around him. He
flashed a brilliant grin and laughed. "What a sight—the monkeys scatter
when the tree falls."
Mo Ran whipped around and saw Xu Shuanglin snap his fingers.
Sparkling shards of memory rushed into his palm like millions of
snowflakes. The illusion dispersed, revealing surroundings that were fast
becoming a sea of fire. The Heavenly Rift to the Infinite Hells yet gaped in
the sky, pouring golden-red lava that flowed sluggishly toward the forest.
As Mo Ran stared at Xu Shuanglin, a shiver ran down his spine. The
look in this man's eyes was all wrong.
It was a look Mo Ran knew only too well. In his past life, he had seen
eyes like this each time he stood before a mirror at Sisheng Peak—at the
deserted Wushan Palace—after Chu Wanning died. Eyes filled with
madness and bloodlust, with self-destructive despair; the eyes of someone
who wanted to take every living person to the grave with him.
"Do you want to destroy Rufeng Sect?"
At Mo Ran's question, Xu Shuanglin's first reaction was to rub his
toes together. Then he said with a sliver of a smile, "So what if I do? I'm
destroying my own home—who asked for your opinion?"
"Your own home…"
Xu Shuanglin stepped over the roiling lava toward Nangong Liu. He
grabbed the Rufeng Sect Leader by the collar and hoisted him from the
ground. Xu Shuanglin looked up. "That's right, my own home."
He forced Nangong Liu to face him. In front of that man, whose last
breath had been suspended by the lingchi fruit, who was living a life worse
than death even now—Xu Shuanglin lifted one hand, then the other to his
own neck. Starting from the base, he dug into skin and languidly,
unhurriedly, ripped upward, inch by inch…
There was a quiet hiss as he peeled away an exquisite human skin
mask, made from the painted slough of an ancient snake demon. Beneath
was a face that possessed no more the charm of youth.
Nangong Liu froze in shock. Then he began trembling and cowering.
He felt like he was suffocating, but still he eked out some faltering, broken
words. "You… It's you…?! You're…not dead? You're still… You're
still…"
"Not dead. Still alive. After all, how could I possibly die before you
did?" Xu Shuanglin smiled broadly. "In every respect I am your superior,
and longevity will be no exception. Even after you rot, I'll be alive and
kicking. What's wrong? It's been so long since we've seen each other—are
you speechless with joy?"
Xu Shuanglin conjured a flame and touched it to that mask. The fire
burned all the way down to his fingertips, but either he was too distracted to
mind it or felt no pain. He shook out his hand and pressed a charred
fingertip to the side of Nangong Liu's mouth.
Xu Shuanglin cocked his head and grinned. "Long time no see,
esteemed Sect Leader… Or should I say…Ge?