Yin Feixue bent down, his silver hair spilling forward, casting a small patch of shadow amid the brilliant fireworks.
He leaned closer, the shadow of his eyelashes falling across Xue Cuo’s cheek. “Don’t you like it?”
Xue Cuo’s expression looked rather helpless, like a slightly foolish boy, nothing like his usual smooth-tongued, eloquent self. Holding the silver brush, he turned it over in his hands, examining it from every angle before saying honestly, “I like it.”
Xue Cuo had always worn the sparrow plume at his waist. This, Yin Feixue had long known. If one day Xue Cuo could draw talismans with a silver brush, then the feather would not have been wasted.
But Yin Feixue had not expected Xue Cuo to remove the sparrow plume.
Xue Cuo twirled the silver brush in his fingers and hung it at his waist. Seeing Yin Feixue’s surprised look, he explained, “Xiao Yun is a demon king now. If I keep running around with one of his leg feathers hanging on me, it would damage his reputation.”
Yin Feixue let out an “oh,” lifting his chin slightly without saying anything.
Xue Cuo rubbed the tip of the silver brush. The clean, fluffy texture felt strangely familiar, but he did not say it aloud.
Clusters of fireworks shot high into the sky.
In the relaxed quiet, even the wind seemed to grow gentle. Yin Feixue asked, “I never knew where you went during those years in the human world.”
Where indeed?
A ripple passed through Xue Cuo’s heart. This was another matter no one had ever asked about, and one he himself had never spoken of. Seeing Yin Feixue’s curiosity, he carefully chose his words.
“When I first arrived in the human world, I was six years old. I cultivated Xianghuo Divine Dao under the Goddess of the Great Loch.”
It was also the year his spiritual platform was cut down and his foundation destroyed. War raged across the mortal world, and he himself was little different from an ordinary human child.
“Under the protection of the Goddess, I traveled across the southeastern lands, gathering incense offerings from more than three hundred prefectures and counties, condensing the Golden Pool and rebuilding my spiritual platform.”
He ran from place to place, fleeing again and again. What he saw along the way was truly horrifying. The Dao of the world was rotten to the core, a long-festering sickness with no easy cure.
“The human world I saw back then was very different from the City Lord’s Tiandu City.”
To call it blood and slaughter would not be an exaggeration.
It was also during those years that Xue Cuo first killed. Killing people, killing demons, killing cultivators. He killed until he was numb, nearly losing his faith and collapsing completely. Yet he still made it through, reforged his spiritual platform, and stepped back onto the path of immortality.
“Then I’ll take you through a human city again.”
Yin Feixue extended his hand, his gaze open and steady, without the slightest hint of ambiguity. In truth there was none in his heart. He simply wanted Xue Cuo to be a little happier.
Xue Cuo was momentarily stunned. Then his eyes curved into a smile as he clasped Yin Feixue’s hand and pulled him down from the treetop. “Let’s go.”
The city was lively and bustling.
Since Yin Feixue had carefully arranged everything, he was naturally very familiar with it. He took Xue Cuo to try snacks made by demons, and then to watch the river lanterns at night. Many water demons, regardless of gender, wore bright crowns and flowers, adorned with pearls and jewels as they danced gracefully across the rippling water by the riverbank.
A large crowd had gathered to watch. Yin Feixue stood behind Xue Cuo, lifting an arm slightly to keep the pressing crowd away.
Xue Cuo sighed in admiration. “The demon race really is naturally gifted when it comes to dancing.”
Finding it amusing, he deliberately teased Yin Feixue. “Your Majesty, can you dance?”
Yin Feixue’s expression did not change, but the corner of his brow lifted slightly as he glanced down at him without the slightest trace of embarrassment. “If you are willing to sing at the top of your lungs, I will remove my armour and dance.”
Xue Cuo burst into laughter. How could he possibly be intimidated by Yin Feixue? Crossing his arms, he said, “Don’t speak too soon. I’ve been skilled in both the literary and martial arts since I was young. Your Majesty had better not go back on your word later.”
Yin Feixue smiled. “A gentleman’s word cannot be taken back even by four horses.”
The two locked eyes, neither willing to back down, neither willing to yield first. Seeing the bright, challenging look in Xue Cuo’s eyes, Yin Feixue gave a faint inward chuckle and rested his fingers on the fastening of his soft armour.
“Do you really want to see?”
Xue Cuo froze, then hurriedly stopped him. “No, no, no!”
He reached out to stop him and happened to grab Yin Feixue’s hand. Their palms touched, and the moment they did it felt like an electric shock. Both of them immediately looked away. Yin Feixue’s tiger ears suddenly popped out, twitching restlessly atop his head.
Xue Cuo said quickly, “I was joking.”
Yin Feixue gave a quiet “Mm.”
“Alright.”
Neither of them thought much of it afterward. They continued wandering through the city until late into the night, returning only after they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves, talking by candlelight long into the night.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away—
At Liuyun Peak. In the Immortal Forest.
Today was the third day of the third lunar month.
Xue Zhenzhen descended on a cloud and landed beside Mirror Lake.
A small thatched hut stood there. A white demonic sword guarded the doorway; when it saw the woman approach, it shrank back slightly.
Her footsteps were heavy as she entered the hut. She brushed the dust from the small couch with her hand and stood there silently for a long time.
A gentle breeze passed through, stirring the plain white sleeves of her robe.
The Dragon Might Sword, cracked and worn, leaned against the door as though waiting for an old friend to return. The room was cold and empty.
A small blue-and-white child’s robe hung casually over the sword. Childish brushstrokes could be seen everywhere in the room, and at the bedside two little stone figures had been stacked together.
The sound of the door opening knocked the stones loose. Xue Zhenzhen paused, bent down, picked them up, and placed them back where they had been.
As she straightened, her hair fell forward. Night-black strands now threaded with streaks of white.
She opened her palm. A flash of blood-red energy flickered and vanished. It was the aura of a great calamity, a sign of karma growing ever heavier. Yet she showed no regret.
Suddenly the wind rose. Fallen leaves in the hut were carried away, drifting toward Mirror Lake. The woman’s pale figure was reflected in the water, like a painting held still for a long, long time.
Within the Immortal Forest—
Sword Immortal stood in robes white as snow, hands clasped behind his back. He gazed distantly toward the lake, lost in thought, yet did not dare step closer.
Today was the third day of the third lunar month.
The day they had first become Dao companions.
Jun Wuwei recalled many years ago, when he had just broken through to a new realm and Xue Zhenzhen had come to congratulate him.
The two of them stood atop a graceful mountain peak. Below them, thousands of clouds surged and rolled, veils of rosy mist draping the landscape. The scenery was like a painting.
Xue Zhenzhen had simply tied up her hair. The sword in her hand was broad and solemn, called Dragon Might, resting across her shoulder.
One tall and one shorter figure stood amid the clouds. A light breeze brushed the mountaintop, and the woman’s robes fluttered softly.
Jun Wuwei noticed that Xue Zhenzhen was wearing a flowing yellow immortal’s skirt he had never seen before, and a bright eastern pearl hung from her hairpin.
Jun Wuwei said to her, “At the flower festival that year, you and your shixiong used the move Floating Clouds Skimming Shadows. I’ve always remembered it.”
Xue Zhenzhen did not respond. Calmly, she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
Jun Wuwei extended his hand to her. “The Great Dao is solitary. Now that the time has come… Master of the Dragon Might Sword, walk this path with me.”
A faint smile appeared on Xue Zhenzhen’s otherwise calm face. She lowered the massive sword and stood shoulder to shoulder with Jun Wuwei. “Very well.”
Several hundred years later, Xue Cuo was born. After that came the upheaval of heaven and earth, the descent of the great catastrophe. He and Xue Zhenzhen went their separate ways, no longer as they had once been. Yet no matter how many times he recalled that moment, his heart would still stir faintly.
Jun Wuwei watched for a long time. Only after Xue Zhenzhen left the thatched hut did he step back and return to Zhaixing Cliff.
Gu Ruhui was practicing his sword on the cliff. His black robe was like the cold night, his eyes like frozen stars. He stood alone at the edge of the precipice, tirelessly swinging his sword again and again. Below, Ying Xiao was counting.
Suddenly a figure in white descended. He immediately lowered his head nervously as a calm voice asked, “How many strikes?”
“Forty thousand and eight.”
“Not enough.”
“But Master hasn’t rested for a long time.”
“The great catastrophe will not wait for him to finish resting before descending again. Next month, he must receive one strike from me.”
Ying Xiao’s eyes widened. He even forgot to bow his head and stared straight at the white-robed Sword Immortal. “But today is already the end of the month!”
Jun Wuwei’s gaze remained indifferent. He did not explain anything to Ying Xiao. The white-robed figure vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving behind only those words.
At the edge of the cliff—
The gale howled like blades, carving several bloody cuts across the young man’s body. Gu Ruhui did not move. Only when the violent wind came close did he strike with his sword, shattering it apart.
This month alone he had shattered it countless times, been wounded countless times. Yet each time brought him new understanding. Even so, he still could not fully complete the final move of the Twelve Heavenly Sword Forms.
From dawn until deep into the night, he finally stepped down from the cliff and lay back among the clouds, breathing lightly.
He wondered how his shixiong was doing. His Shifu seemed to know about his little shixiong’s situation, yet had not told Shimu. And he himself could not say anything.
Ying Xiao climbed up onto the clouds and knelt on one knee. “Master.”
Gu Ruhui responded with a quiet sound and sat up. Noticing the change in Ying Xiao’s expression, he asked, “Did Shifu come?”
Ying Xiao nodded and repeated the Sword Immortal’s words. Then he added, “Next month… that’s far too rushed.”
Gu Ruhui closed his eyes and began meditating. Sweat slid down his cheek as he said calmly, “Shifu has his reasons.”
Ying Xiao felt somewhat indignant, but he could not say much. Then he suddenly remembered something. “Oh right—A paper crane flew over from Tiandu City. It was sent by Xue Cuo-shixiong, and it brought a few things.”
Gu Ruhui opened his eyes. Something from Shixiong?
He raised his hand and took the paper crane. A few simple lines of greeting were written on it.
Gu Ruhui nodded and opened the storage pouch. Out rolled a strange-looking white tiger figurine and an odd red cylinder. “What are these?”
Ying Xiao picked up the slip of paper that had fallen out. “‘For household peace and safety’?”
…
Demon Clan Royal Court.
Kong Yun also received a paper crane.
He sat high upon his throne, magnificent robes trailing across the floor. The paper crane fluttered around in his hand before dropping out an ugly clay figurine and a red cylinder.
Kong Yun examined them. He snorted coldly and tossed the clay doll aside. Then he studied the red cylinder in his hand. After a moment, he gently pulled the exposed fuse.
Whoosh—
A red firework shot far into the air and exploded into a blossom, leaving behind a rather strange smell.
Kong Yun watched quietly for a moment, then let out a soft laugh and rested his chin on his hand as he admired the fading sparks.
…
Southern Divine Lands.
Xi Tao sat amid mountains of corpses and rivers of blood. Golden Sanskrit characters formed the pattern of his kasaya robe.
He lifted the head of an evil cultivator and tossed it aside, then walked barefoot through the blood, step by step climbing to higher ground before opening the paper crane.
The honest monk played with the small clay figurine, somewhat puzzled, but he still put it away. Turning the cylinder in his hands, he found the fuse and gave it a gentle pull.
Crackle—bang!
A burst of fireworks erupted, scattering countless sparks into the sky and blooming into a brilliant flower.
Xi Tao could not help but laugh softly. Pressing his palms together, he said, “Amitabha.”
…
Qianxun Great Marsh.
Ren Shu and Xuan Zhao stared at the paper crane, exchanging puzzled looks. Xuan Zhao’s face darkened. His tone was strange. Half sarcastic, half concerned. “He didn’t get tricked by that tiger, did he?”
Ren Shu froze. “Huh? What trick? Is Xue Cuo in danger?”
Xuan Zhao urged him impatiently. “What ‘huh’? What danger? Hurry up and put those things away. When the two of us go to Tiandu City someday, these will be our proof of wealth and glory!”
