sitting with her husband Chen Bohuan and his youngest sister.

The long corridor held heaven on his left, and hell on his right, and a chill crawled up Mo Ran's
back. He saw butterflies and clear water juxtaposed against twisted bodies tortured with boiling oil,
laughing children set off by rabid ghosts tearing each other to pieces. The former prelate of Wubei
Temple was present, surrounded by three people, each cutting pieces from his flesh. Mo Ran
shivered harder and harder the farther he walked, unable to look at the pain and unwilling to look
at the joy.

Pain began to spike through his skull as the contrast grated along his skin, both demanding his
attention. Finally he came to a halt, waiting for the army to catch up to him. Luo Xianxian's voice
echoed in his ears, punctuated by the screams of the damned. He didn't know if he saw the living
or the dead, if they were real or illusions, if he saw good or evil. The sounds around him were as
the rolling tide, meaningless, and he thought he saw two dragons breaking through the moonlight.

The dragons blurred, fighting and crashing into each other violently enough to shake the earth. Mo
Ran covered his ears, but he could not shut out the sound. He opened his eyes, opening his mouth
to scream at them to stop, but the scene around him vanished. He hung in endless black, eyes wide
with horror. He took a few steps, finding firm ground beneath his feat. "Sir?" he called, voice
quavering. "Xue Meng? Is anyone there?"

No one answered. Mo Ran clenched his teeth and walked slowly forward. A faint white light shone
far ahead, and he thought it might be a way out. He moved toward it. Figures surrounded him,
blurred so that he could not recognize them, and their voices rang in his ears. He heard them
singing a chorus, singing to the glory of the Emperor Evil Overlord, and Mo Ran recoiled. He
started running, feeling millions of grasping hands reaching for him.

"Your Majesty," he heard, and “The Evil Overlord, the immortal."

Running as hard as he could, Mo Ran struggled for the light. "Go away," he shouted, but the voices
just got louder. They followed him like shadows, and he stumbled. Nangong Xu would catch him,
he felt, the worst demon of the ghost world. The voices demanded to know where he was going,
why the emperor wanted to flee, and Mo Ran staggered again. He drew his sword, slicing against
the darkness. "Get out!" he roared.

"Venerable emperor," the voices whispered. "You know in your heart who you are and where you
came from. You know you cannot escape." The shadows pressed against him.

"I am not the Evil Overlord!" Mo Ran panted.

The voice in the darkness laughed richly, dim and soft. "Of course you are," it said. "You owe a
debt."

"It's over!" Mo Ran shouted. “The Evil Overlord is dead! I have nothing to do with him!"

"Then what are you?" asked the voice, delicate as a flower. "A reincarnated soul? A memory made
flesh? An innocent being, or perhaps you are nothing more than a dream."

Anger and fear froze Mo Ran's blood, and he couldn't speak. He finally forced out a single, broken
word. "Dream?"

“Which of us is real?” whispered the voice, smoke drifting around him. “You lay in your own
grave and yet here you are. Are you dead or alive?”

Staring at the black smoke, Mo Ran’s trembling faded. He was chilled to the marrow with the cold
of Wushan Hall, seeing in the approaching army at his back the winding torches of the army that
had approached Sisheng Peak to kill the emperor. He remembered taking the poison, remembered
lying in his own coffin as crabapple blossoms drifted downward. He remembered closing his eyes,
only to reopen them again as a sixteen-year-old.

“You returned,” sang the voice. “You saved Sisheng Peak, even if Rufeng Sect has still been
destroyed, and you’re the leader of a rebel army. You’ve fallen in love with Chu Wanning and
become Grandmaster Mo. Ye Wangxi is alive, and so is Shi Mingjing. You’re a hero, hunting
down the villain Nangong Xu.” It chuckled. “What a pleasant fantasy.”

The shadow had no face, but Mo Ran knew it was staring at him. Its words pierced his heart,
despair flooding his body. It was just as it had been when he had died, the deadly poison soaking
through him.

“You weren’t reborn,” crooned the voice. “Everyone around you is still dead, except for Xue
Meng, and he hates you so very much. Open your eyes, the Evil Overlord, you’re still the lord of
darkness.”

“No,” Mo Ran heard, the weak sound a feeble thing to stand against such persuasion. He was
surprised to find that the voice had come from him. “No,” he said again, dragging courage out of
every inch of bone and drop of blood. “You lie,” he said, panting, and swung his sword at the
shadows.

The black smoke dispersed again, but the voice only continued to laugh. “Lie?” it said. “Look
down and see what you hold in your hand, Your Majesty.”

------

Mo Ran looked down to see the blade he had carried in a hundred fights, No Return, with its long
and thin hilt above its bared blade. The blood drained from Mo Ran’s face and he flung the sword
to the ground, but it dissipated before it hit. Its familiar weight returned to his waist, tugged by its
bond to his soul.

Panicking, Mo Ran tried to call What The Hell, but the willow vine refused to come. Only No
Return was with him. The ghostly figure leered, closing in again, coalescing into the shape of a
man. Mo Ran willed himself not to see Nangong Xu’s illusion, sprinting toward the light in the
distance, but the shadow grabbed his arm and held fast.

“Get away from me!” Mo Ran shouted. “I know what’s real and what isn’t! He treated me well!
How could all of our memories be false? Jincheng Lake and Peach Blossom Spring, the wedding
ceremony in Butterfly Town – it all happened!”

“Oh, Ran,” interrupted the voice. “I’m the one that married you.”

Heart quailing, Mo Ran turned to see the face of Song Qiutong in the mist. She was as beautiful as
a lotus. She wore her scarlet wedding gown, hair dressed in emerald flowers, and she smiled at
him.

“You carried me up the mountain when I couldn’t walk, telling me not to call you Your Majesty,”
she whispered. Her grip on his wrist was stronger than she had ever been in life, bruising his skin,
but Mo Ran struggled closer to the light. “Where are you going?” Song Qiutong sighed. “Chu
Wanning is dead, Your Majesty. You killed him.”

“It’s the way out,” he groaned, struggling free of her grasp. He dashed for the light, plunging
himself into its heart, and it washed away the darkness. He gasped for breath, raising an arm to
shield his streaming eyes.

After a long moment, Mo Ran heard the sound of chirping birds and smelled the faint scent of
crabapple. His vision cleared, and he found himself standing in front of a luxuriantly blossoming
crabapple tree, but Rufeng Sect’s Ancestral Shrine was nowhere to be seen. His heart fell again as
he realized that he was still trapped in an illusion. A petal landed on the tip of his nose, and Mo
Ran sat up.

Wait, he thought dazedly, why am I lying down? He looked around, realizing that he lay in an open
coffin at the base of the Heaven-Piercing Tower, and ice chilled his veins. He flung himself out of
the coffin, barely registering the blank headstone and the bowl of wontons. Had he survived the
poison, he suddenly wondered, and only dreamed that he had been reincarnated.

Fleeing from his own grave, Mo Ran darted toward Sisheng Peak. It wasn’t as deserted as he knew
it was supposed to be – Eunuch Liu was running toward him with a look of joy, followed by a
group of people he clearly remembered chasing out of his palace before dying.

“Your majesty! We have found the immortal medicine for your rebirth!” Eunuch Liu said, holding
out a box.

“But I kicked you all off the mountain,” Mo Ran said blankly.

“Why would you exile us, sire?” Eunuch Liu stammered, and the group of servants dropped to their
knees. “Have we not served you well?”

“And the ten greatest sects?” Mo Ran interrupted.

“Your majesty, there are no ten great sects,” Eunuch Liu said.

“I just woke up there,” Mo Ran said, turning to point at his own grave, but it was gone. Only the
tombs of his empress and concubine.

“Your majesty, what’s wrong?” asked Eunuch Liu.

“I don’t,” Mo Ran started. He had known that everything around him was an illusion, but a wash of
uncertainty swept through him. He was no longer sure what was real.

“Have you been dreaming, Your Majesty?” Eunuch Liu sighed.

“No,” Mo Ran said, and then his gaze fell on the box. “The medicine,” he said. “Give it to me.”

Inside the box was a warm white pill. Mo Ran picked it up, hands shaking, and went toward Red
Lotus Pavilion. Before he could go more than a few steps, Eunuch Liu stopped him. “Sire, you’re
going in the wrong direction.”

“No, I’m not,” Mo Ran started.

“You should be headed for the Soul Summoning platform, sire. Where Shi Mingjing awaits.”
Eunuch Liu frowned. “You’ve been working for this day and night, your majesty, why would you
go to the Red Lotus Pavilion instead? You killed countless men and women and destroyed the
cultivation world, all to revive Shi Mingjing, and now you intend to give the pill to another?”

“No, you don’t understand,” Mo Ran said.

“The Red Lotus Pavilion is forbidden to you, sire. You must go to the Soul Summoning Platform.”
His servants’ eyes flashed with a terrifying light as they pressed closer, trying to herd him away
from his chosen path.

Mo Ran clutched the precious pill tightly in his hand, trying to push through the crowd, but they
refused to be diverted. He drew No Return, threatening the crowd, and for a moment they shrank
back in fear. His respite didn’t last – they pressed in again, warning him that he would be punished
for breaking his promise, calling him heartless.

Refusing to be stymied, Mo Ran cut a bloody path and ran for the Red Lotus Pavilion. The barrier
around it let him pass, but kept the pursuing crowd outside. Mo Ran slipped through the bamboo
door and closed it, not wanting to see anyone else. He turned, looking for Chu Wanning’s body,
only to see his teacher standing under a crabapple tree. “Sir?”

Wearing a high ponytail and metal gloves, Chu Wanning was assembling a Holy Night Guardian.
The wind blew, sending a shower of pink petals over him like snow. Mo Ran choked back a sob.

“Sir,” he said again.

Chu Wanning turned, giving him a surprised look. “What are you doing here?”

------

Without answering, Mo Ran walked forward to embrace his teacher. “What’s wrong with you?”
Chu Wanning asked. “Why are you crying?”

Mo Ran couldn’t answer; he only knew that his teacher was alive and warm in his arms, worried
about whether or not the mechanical joints in his hands were working properly. He had everything
he wanted, right in front of him. He helped Chu Wanning finish the construct, and then pulled him
into his bedroom.

The teacher in front of him was ruthless, refusing to come until he chose to, and Mo Ran was
driven wild by the sight of it. The candles flickered around them, like flower petals in a deep pond,
and finally Mo Ran fell asleep with his beloved in his arms. “You’re with me, sir,” he said
contentedly.

When he woke, Chu Wanning was gone. For a moment, Mo Ran felt the stirrings of panic, but then
he saw his teacher standing by the half-open window in the dawn light. He breathed a sigh of
relief.

“Sir, come here.”

Chu Wanning only looked at him steadily, dressed neatly in a snow-white robe. “Mo Ran,” he said.
“It’s time for me to go.”

“Go?” Mo Ran repeated. He didn’t understand; the bed was warm and smelled of sex, but the man
in front of him was cold and distant. “But this is your home. We’re home. Where would you go?”

“It’s dawn,” Chu Wanning said. “We’re out of time.”

Between one breath and the next, he disappeared. Mo Ran jumped out of bed, stumbling out the
door. The once-luxuriant crabapple tree was broken and bent, crushed flowers scattered over the
table and chairs where they had worked. A finished Holy Night Guardian was where they had left
it, metal gloves tossed to the side as if Chu Wanning would return to pick them up at any moment.
Mo Ran searched frantically, shouting for his teacher, but he was nowhere to be found.
The lotus pond stood in the center, Mo Ran subconsciously avoiding it until it was right in front of
him. He stepped forward, looking under the water to where an uncorrupted body slept.
Unwillingly, he reached the edge of the pool, seeing his teacher’s dead face clearly, and fell to his
knees.

Trembling, Mo Ran thought of the revival medicine he had been given. He searched through his
bag, but the pill was nowhere to be found. Had he dreamed his encounter with Eunuch Liu, he
wondered dully, or had he dreamed everything. He rubbed his face, searching again for the pill,
sobbing aloud.

The porcelain bottles that did not contain what he wanted were shattered under his seeking palms,
digging into his flesh as he crawled toward the lake. He pulled the body out, cradling its cold, wet
weight in his arms. The rain continued to fall as the sun rose over the horizon, mingling with the
tears on Mo Ran’s face.

“Please, sir,” Mo Ran sobbed. “Please.”

He was a child again, clutching his mother’s rotted corpse in the cemetery. He was an adult,
clutching the body of his dead beloved in the lotus pond. The first time, he had begged to be
buried. This time, he had buried himself in the emptiness of the Red Lotus Pavilion.

“Please, sir, pay attention to me,” he murmured.

“Mo Ran!”

“Pay attention to me.” In the distance, Mo Ran vaguely heard someone familiar calling to him. He
clung to the body in his arms, begging him not to go. “I’ll be good, sir, I won’t make you angry.”
He caught a hand, interlocking fingers, and smelled the odor of crabapple. “I can’t find the elixir of
life,” he mumbled. “I had it, and I lost it, please, I can’t live without you.”

“Mo Ran! Wake up!”

The pain was too intense, drowning him and pushing him deeper. “I would rather I die instead of
you, sir.”

“I told you to wake up!”

Someone grabbed him, and cold flooded his mouth. Chaos burst around him, and Mo Ran felt
freezing cold. He opened his eyes, seeing Jiang Xi standing over him with a green jade bottle. He
could still feel the wetness on his lips, and his throat hurt. The Ancestral Shrine loomed around
him, and he was surrounded by a crowd giving him strange looks.

Suddenly aware that he was lying on something soft and yielding, Mo Ran realized that he was
cradled in Chu Wanning’s lap. He had pulled his teacher’s clothes open to the waist, and he froze.
How much had he said out loud, Mo Ran suddenly wondered, and hesitantly raised his eyes to Chu
Wanning’s face. His normally calm expression was even colder and more severe than usual, but his
voice was even.

“Why would you recklessly run ahead like that?”

“Sir,” Mo Ran protested.

“You were in a nightmare,” Jiang Xi said, putting away the jade bottle. “Rest for a moment. The
medicine chills the body, but those effects can be countered with tea.”
“I didn’t feel any qi in there,” Mo Ran said stupidly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jiang Xi told him. “You think that was some kind of spiritual technique?
Please.” He snorted. “Qi pales beside what can be done with medicine. That was incense called
Nineteen Hells, colorless and odorless, which causes a person to hallucinate their greatest fear. The
greater the fear, the harder it is to wake.” He regarded Mo Ran. “In the past, four or five drops of
Dream-Breaking Elixir have sufficed to rescue a patient. Do you know how much I had to use on
you?”

“Er,” said Mo Ran, dreading the answer.

“Half a bottle,” Jiang Xi said. “Enough to save a hundred people. What could you possibly be so
afraid of?”

------

Mo Ran fell silent and lowered his head, shivering. He didn’t know if it was due to the dream
revealing the depths of his fear of Chu Wanning’s death, or due to the cold elixir. Before he could
calm himself, Chu Wanning stood; he had been hard-pressed to keep his composure in front of the
crowd, and he couldn’t tell if any of them had become suspicious.

Both of Chu Wanning’s other disciples started forward, but Shi Mei was the only one who spoke.
“Sir, don’t push yourself,” he said.

Chu Wanning removed his disheveled outer robe and draped it around Mo Ran’s shoulders.
“Return it when you have overcome the effects of the elixir,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Mo Ran said, not looking at him.

The rest of the cultivators were carefully checking the hall for hidden traps; Xue Zhengyong
lingered just long enough to be assured that Mo Ran was all right before joining them, but Xue
Meng did not leave. He glanced around and crouched to put himself at Mo Ran’s eye level. “What
exactly did you dream?” he hissed quietly.

“It was just a dream,” Mo Ran said.

“Yeah, based on your real fear,” Xue Meng said. “What the hell did you dream about that has you
so spooked?”

“I dreamed that I killed someone,” Mo Ran murmured, trembling. “That I killed our teacher.”

“You what.” Xue Meng’s lips trembled, but he pressed them together. Mo Ran’s words belied his
actions; he dreamed that he had killed Chu Wanning, yet clung to him tightly. The sense that there
was more to their relationship than that of master and disciple began to encroach upon Xue Meng
and he slam-dunked it back into his subconscious where it belonged.

Slowly, the chill from the elixir faded and Mo Ran stood. Xue Meng hovered, supporting him, and
Mo Ran glanced toward him. “Thank you.” He looked at the rest of the hall. “Was anyone else
caught?”

“No, just you. Because you got there first and opened the door.” Xue Meng let Mo Ran stand on
his own. “Jiang Xi sensed the incense as soon as we got here. He dispersed the rest of it. But.” He
paused, as if something had occurred to him. “We were almost screwed, though.”

“Why?”
“You were ahead of us and didn’t see, but a bunch of venomous snakes came out of Nangong Liu’s
basket and bit people. Jiang Xi was going to have to stay behind to extract the venom, and if he
had, more people would have been poisoned by the incense. He would have run out of elixir.”

“Why was he there, then?”

“One of his disciples has experience with really toxic venoms, and said he could deal with it.”

Mo Ran’s frown deepened as he searched for a specific Lonemoon Disciple. He couldn’t find the
face he sought. “Where’s Hua Binan?”

“Cold Scale Sacred Hand?” Xue Meng asked. “You suspect him?”

“I’m just wondering where he is.”

“He was one of the ones who was bitten.” Xue Meng scratched his chin. “He’s meditating to
counteract the poison.”

Expression dark, Mo Ran thought furiously. Although Lonemoon’s disciples were accomplished,
only Hua Binan and Jiang Xi were truly skilled in the arts of healing. One of them had already been
incapacitated, or pretended to be. “Watch out for Hua Binan,” he said to Xue Meng.

The ground shook under their feet, and a dragon roared from outside the hall. The gathered
cultivators started in fear, one daring disciple moving toward the door. “I’ll check,” he said, and
poked his head outside. “Nothing up there or down there,” he called back. “It might just be the
mountain’s spirit making noises.” Before he could return to the inside of the hall, something
grabbed his ankle.

“Watch out!” shouted Xue Zhengyong, sharp eyes seeing the pale hand, but it was too late. A
corpse bounded into the air and thrust a sword through the cultivator’s chest. He spit blood and
collapsed.

The ground began to shake anew, the gathered cultivators looking toward the door to see thick
dragon tendons arising from the ground. Each was wrapped around the body of a dead member of
Rufeng Sect, resembling a horrific garden of corpse flowers. Xue Zhengyong darted toward the
doors.

“Close the doors! Fucking close the doors and don’t let them in!” He swung his fan and ejected the
zombie from the hall before grabbing the door.

I’m sorry, are there three thousand people in this hall? Author keeps insisting that there are
3K people off to fight, but then shit like Oh Yes We’ll All Just Camp In The Woods or Yes
There Is Enough Space For Everyone To Have A Private Room In A Single Manor happens
and it’s like, that wouldn’t work for so many people. Like this here. Are there supposed to be
three thousand people in this hall?

Perfectly balanced to open at the merest touch from the outside, the door was nearly impossible to
move from the inside. Xue Zhengyong cursed, straining with his entire body, and Mo Ran dashed
up to help. Xue Meng was right behind him.

“I thought Changying sealed these bastards,” Xue Zhengyong grunted.

“Apparently not!” Huang Xiaoyue snarled, glaring at Nangong Si. “Can’t your family do anything
right?”
Completely ignoring him, Nangong Si addressed the crowd. “The doors must be closed with a
lever at the other end of the hall. I know where it is. You guys keep them out until I get there.”

“Get moving!” Xue Zhengyong growled, tossing three zombies out the door in a single movement.
Black blood splashed the jade steps, but the zombies bounded upright without missing a beat and
charged forward again. “Fuck me,” he muttered. “This is getting ridiculous.”

The temple door was narrow enough that Xue Zhengyong thought one man could hold it. He
stepped outside, making the zombies come to him from below. He lashed out left and right, holding
the line, but the fight pulled him far enough outside the palace that he would be unable to retreat
when the doors started to shut. Mo Ran planted himself at Xue Zhengyong’s side, giving the
undead another target. Ma Yun, from the dubious safety of the hall, shook his head in admiration.

“Stop sighing and do something,” Jiang Xi snapped.

“This isn’t my forte,” Ma Yun snapped back. “I do tactics. Formations. Weapons assembly. Not
short-ranged melee combat.”

Jiang Xi rolled his eyes derisively, but very few cultivators were suited for such bloody combat in
such close-quarters, and he knew the best that most of them would be able to accomplish was to
die. Even he himself was useless, as there were no medicinal powders effective against the undead.
Watching the fight more closely was Xue Meng; he gauged his moment carefully, darting out to
dismember a walking corpse.

“Meng!” shouted Xue Zhengyong, fear in his voice. “Get back inside!”

“I’ll watch his back!” Xue Meng shouted, planting himself behind Mo Ran.

“Go back,” Mo Ran hissed. “I can’t protect you and fight them.”

“Shut up!” Longcheng blazed in Xue Meng’s hands. “Who came in first in the Spiritual Mountain
Competition? Who’s the heir to Sisheng Peak? You don’t need to protect me!”

Warmth suffused Mo Ran’s chest, and he stood back to back with Xue Meng. They held back the
undead horde until the stone door finally started to swing closed. “Get back inside!” Xue
Zhengyong shouted frantically.

A shadow box coalesced from the combined powers of both cultivators, dropping the undead
where they stood and out of the sky. “Move,” Mo Ran said tersely.

“We go together,” Xue Meng hissed. Mo Ran grabbed his robes, starting to drag him toward the
closing doors. “Hey! Let go!”

“I said move!” Mo Ran threw him toward the shrinking gap, where Xue Zhengyong was waiting,
and stood alone against the horde. He backed up step by step, holding them at bay, and then the
doors ground to a halt.

“What happened?” Xue Meng disentangled himself from his father, turning to see Nangong Si
racing back down the hall.

Face ashen white, Nangong Si held up half a bronze lock in his wounded hand. “The central axis of
the mechanism was destroyed,” he said. “The chain broke, and it can’t be fixed.”

------
Hearing that the door wouldn’t close, Mo Ran turned immediately back to the advancing horde.
Chu Wanning flew toward him, shouting for him to return immediately and laying down a barrier
enchantment. One barrier pushed back the horde, while three more lit the door and its surrounding
areas with a steady light.

“Sir,” Mo Ran said. “The barrier won’t hold out for long up here. What do we do?”

Ignoring the question, Chu Wanning’s eyes like blue frost and purple lightning sought out a certain
figure. “Shi Mingjing! Heal him!” He pushed Mo Ran toward his teammate.

“Yes, sir,” Shi Mei said.

“Sir, the barrier won’t last long,” Mo Ran said anxiously. “And it’ll use up a lot of your spiritual
power.”

“I’ll keep holding it as long as I have to,” Chu Wanning said, backlit by the sunlight. Wanting to
continue arguing, Mo Ran was pulled away. Shi Mei’s hands were cold on his skin as he started
healing Mo Ran’s wounds. “Xue Meng,” Chu Wanning snapped.

“Yes, sir.”

“When my energy runs out, I’m turning control of the barrier to you. When your strength fails,
pass it on to a sect leader.”

“Best to stop before you run out of energy entirely,” Xue Zhengyong said brightly, and then caught
Chu Wanning’s gaze. “What is it, Constellation?”

“That group of trash hiding in the back,” Chu Wanning said, gritting his teeth. “Even the ones from
Taxue and Lonemoon. Take anyone with a scrap of talent for fighting and take them to look for a
way out.”

“What if they refuse?”

“Then we all wait here to die.”

Glad for something to do, Xue Zhengyong hurried to the back of the hall. On the way, he passed
Nangong Si, staring at the broken lock, clearly wondering who had been able to subvert the
dragon’s will after Nangong Changying had given it explicit orders. The disciples in the back
stared blankly at him when he tried to chivvy them forward, except for Ye Wangxi.

“Understood, sir,” she said crisply, and started for the door.

“You’re a girl,” Xue Zhengyong objected.

remember the commentary about her never getting to do anything now that we know she
isn’t a man? Look, it’s coming from both the Doylist AND the Watsonian angles! What a
fucking pile of shit.

“Even if there are only two members of Rufeng Sect left, we’re not cowards,” Ye Wangxi said,
lifting her chin proudly. None of the cultivators cowering behind her could meet her gaze.

Despite the initial reluctance, Xue Zhengyong collected a group of volunteers to hold the line in
front. He stopped at the sight of one of them. “Hanxue? No. You’re not good at this sort of thing.
Sit back down.”
“No, Uncle, I know what I’m doing,” Mei Hanxue said, with a disarming smile. “It’ll be fine.”

Looking at the upstart young master’s sect leader mutely for help and not getting it, Xue
Zhengyong had no choice but to let him join the group. Jiang Xi frowned at him. “What, is that all
you’re doing? Taking everyone with a scrap of fighting ability and scouting for a rear exit?”

“We’re going to try to fix the machine,” Xue Zhengyong told him. “If that doesn’t work, we split
off into two groups – one to scout and one to provide cover.”

“Who, pray tell, is qualified to fix the machine?” Jiang Xi said.

At his scornful words, Ma Yun – already ridiculed to the point of being a social pariah – poked his
head up. “I’m actually pretty good at that sort of thing,” he said.

“Then why are you still here?” Jiang Xi snapped.

Tugging Nangong Si with him, Ma Yun made his way over to join the group. They disappeared
into the rear of the hall, and Jiang Xi turned to survey his surroundings. He looked at either side of
the hall, full of Zhenlong chess pieces, one side portraying heaven and the other showing hell.
Finally, his gaze landed on Nangong Liu, squatting beside his basket of oranges with a blank face,
and felt it was all very odd.

Nangong Liu and the chess pieces in the hall, Jiang Xi thought, should have gone berserk like the
horde outside. They should have been trying to kill everything in sight, or – if Nangong Xu were
able to control them – they should have been trying to massacre the living cultivator army. And
yet, they played out their little scenarios instead.

Had Jiang Xi consulted with Mo Ran, the young grandmaster would have been able to tell him that
Nangong Xu had reached the limit of his spiritual power, but his musings were interrupted by Hua
Binan calling to Chu Wanning for help. Mo Ran’s head jerked up at the call, seeing an incoming
group of wounded cultivators.

Later, Mo Ran would learn that the group had been assaulted by a second horde while resting.
Over twenty of his fellow cultivators had been slaughtered on the spot, while the rest made for the
dubious safety of the hall. All of them had been seriously injured or worse on the way. Chu
Wanning cast a barrier around them, flinging Heavenly Questions out to repel the zombies closest
to them. Mo Ran started forward as Chu Wanning reached for Hua Binan.

“Sir, watch out!”

Nothing untoward happened; Hua Binan grabbed Chu Wanning’s hand in a trembling grip and was
dragged behind the stronger protective barrier. “Get everyone else,” he said.

The survivors were pulled into the hall one by one, bloody and miserable, and Jiang Xi led a posse
of Lonemoon cultivators to assist. He himself knelt before Hua Binan, frowning. “Why are you
hurt so badly?” he asked.

“I’m fine, Sect Leader, please tend to my comrades first.” Hua Binan leaned against the pillar, hat
and veil torn and robe stained with blood. He twitched his wrist out of Jiang Xi’s grasp. “It’s
nothing,” he said, coughing. “Sect Leader, your disciple was badly hurt. Please check him first.”

Given that there were cultivators who were injured too badly to stand or even speak, Jiang Xi had
to agree that Hua Binan’s injuries were light by comparison. Jiang Xi cursed quietly, and went to
help the others. Hua Binan retrieved a bottle of powder from his bag with shaking hands, but
before he could apply it to his wounds, it was snatched from his grasp.
“I’ll help,” Mo Ran said.

“No need,” Hua Binan replied.

“It’s no trouble,” Mo Ran said.

Taking back the bottle, Hua Binan said softly, “I’m not used to being touched by others, and your
specialty is not healing.”

“I’ll help,” Shi Mei said, appearing behind Mo Ran. Hua Binan curled his lips but didn’t resist as
Shi Mei unwrapped his tools. “Senior Sacred Hand, forgive me if I am in error,” he said,
examining the wounds. In order to stop the bleeding, Shi Mei selected a silver needle, then
frowned. “Sir,” he said. “Forgive me again, but your hat and veil.”

Knowing that there were a number of acupoints on the face, Hua Binan still frowned. “I will
remove them myself,” he said, and reluctantly took his bloodstained veil in hand.

The Cold Scale Sacred Hand was infamous for refusing to show his face, and Mo Ran stared
upward through his lashes as he saw why. The upper portion could have been considered pretty,
but the lower half of Hua Binan’s face was scarred and twisted. He raised his head, staring at Mo
Ran with scorn.

“Grandmaster Mo,” he said. “Why are you still here?” He spoke right over Mo Ran’s mumbled
apology. “I told you to leave, and yet you don’t listen. Your apologies are worthless.”

Without saying anything else, Mo Ran stood up and left. He glanced toward the rear of the hall,
where Ma Yun was struggling with the broken lock, and then toward the door, where Chu
Wanning’s qi had nearly been depleted. At his gesture, Xue Meng hurried forward.

As expected from the young phoenix, the handover was extremely smooth. Chu Wanning
staggered back as Xue Meng’s lips firmed under the burden, and Mo Ran hurried to his side. He
couldn’t act inappropriately in front of the crowd, and had to restrain himself to a simple question.
“Are you all right, Wanni- sir?”

“I’m just low on qi,” Chu Wanning said, coughing.

As his teacher’s spirit core was fragile, Mo Ran was aware that expending too much qi would
shatter the core entirely. He had seen it happen in his previous life. He closed his eyes for a
moment and then returned the outer robe Chu Wanning had given him, unable to provide more
comfort than a squeeze to the shoulder as he draped the clothing across his teacher’s shoulders.

but there was no mention of a shattered spirit core when Chu Wanning exhausted his qi so
completely that it killed him back in Book 2, he has expended FAR less energy here than he
was described to do IN GRAPHIC DETAIL there, hi, this is inconsistent with previous
events and only serves as a cheap way to up the Emotional Melodrama so that Mo Ran can
wallow in his Feelings

All of Mo Ran’s love was hidden in the simple gesture, and he carefully supported Chu Wanning
to a secluded corner. Hidden from the prying eyes of others, he took Chu Wanning’s cold hand. He
lowered his eyes, hands trembling, and Chu Wanning did not pull away. Instead, he raised his other
hand to draw his fingertips across Mo Ran’s face. “Does it hurt?” he asked, tracing the injury
across Mo Ran’s cheek and nose.

Mo Ran shook his head, staring at his teacher’s face, feeling sweet pain as his teacher worried
about him despite his own condition. His heart ached, and he finally learned to lie as his teacher
did. “It doesn’t hurt,” he said.

oh sure, that’s healthy, validate his counterproductive coping mechanisms

“Then why are you shaking?” Chu Wanning shook his head, summoning qi across his fingertips
and reaching for Mo Ran.

“Stop it,” Mo Ran hissed, grabbing the glowing hand.

“It’s only a little,” Chu Wanning said. “So it doesn’t pain you.” He touched the wound, and the
pain in Mo Ran’s face was replaced by agony in his heart.

Naturally, Mo Ran knew that it was only a small amount of spiritual power, but he also knew that
Chu Wanning sacrificed his energy for everyone else, and never kept more than the merest scrap
for himself. In his previous life, Mo Ran had been angry at his teacher for giving him so little; he
hadn’t understood. He hadn’t understood that Chu Wanning had given him everything he had left.

He actually had a valid complaint; wanting to be prioritized by someone isn’t unreasonable,

particularly when it’s supposed to be an Important Relationship like master/disciple, but Chu
Wanning kept not doing that, and also not reaching out to Mo Ran. Granted, Mo Ran did not
respond to this in a constructive way, but he also wasn’t wrong to be resentful, and I resent
the narrative for insisting that Chu Wanning is some kind of infallible always right paragon
of virtue. I’ve been told this is supposed to be a Deconstruction Of Toxic Danmei Tropes, but
honestly, it’s just reinforcing them.

“It’s fixed! It’s fixed!” One of the cultivators under Ma Yu rushed to the door, face flushed red.
“Retreat, the door is closing!”

FUCK YEAH MA YUN

At the door, Mei Hanxue had stepped up to hold the line. Xue Meng had been injured, but not
seriously, and he was hovering near the fight to watch Mei Hanxue retreat. Suddenly, Xue Meng
remembered that Mei Hanxue’s spiritual core was a water and wood type, and yet he was using fire
techniques to push back the ravening corpses.

if author has been trying to hint that he is Two Different People, what with the allusions
earlier to his general demeanor being either super slutty or totally cold and remote with no
in between, and now his elemental affinity being hinky, it is being done very clumsily

“The door is closing!” shouted Ma Yun’s cultivator. “Young Master Mei!”

Feeling as though something was wrong, Mei Hanxue frowned. “I can’t get the zither through the
door,” he said.

“I got it,” Xue Meng said, remembering also that close combat was not a Taxue Palace specialty,
and Mei Hanxue withdrew coldly. Longcheng in hand, Xue Meng ran forward. A flash of silver
light came from behind, and he looked over to see a sword coalesce in Mei Hanxue’s palm.

The wind blew his golden hair and Mei Hanxue danced his sword across the group of zombies.
Finally he flung it outside through the narrowing gap, and just before the door closed, he shouted.
“Shoufeng, return!”

The sword flashed through the crack, and the door slammed shut. The sounds of zombies throwing
themselves against the door were muffled, as though coming from far away, and the army
collectively let out a sigh of relief. One or two even sank to the ground. Mei Hanxue breathed out
as well, almost unnoticeable, except that Xue Meng was staring at him intently.

“Why are you looking at me?” Mei Hanxue asked.

“Uh, your sword,” Xue Meng said.

“Shoufeng,” Mei Hanxue said.

“Yeah, but when did you learn how to use one?” Xue Meng demanded.

“I always knew,” Mei Hanxue returned calmly.

“Then why didn’t you use it during the Spiritual Mountain Competition?”

“I didn’t want to.”

Annoyed, Xue Meng paced over and glared. “Are you this condescending on purpose?”

Even rolling his eyes in ridicule, Mei Hanxue maintained an ice-cold demeanor. “Nothing wrong
with third place,” he said. “First place is too… flashy.”

------

A moment passed before Xue Meng registered the insult. He glared and opened his mouth to
retort, only to be pulled back by his father. “Don’t be rash.”

“He insulted me!”

“You misunderstood.”

“Bullshit,” Xue Meng muttered, but he let himself be distracted.

In the meantime, Jiang Xi took stock of the injured and his remaining supplies; he was forced to
tell most of the wounded to meditate to speed up their recovery, as his pills and powders were
running low. He would have to ration them more carefully, he concluded, and drew Nangong Si
aside. “I have a question,” he said.

“Please, Sect Leader,” Nangong Si said, and raised an eyebrow at Jiang Xi’s glance toward Ye
Wangxi. “Anything you say to me can be said in front of her.”

“I must insist,” Jiang Xi said, glancing toward Nangong Si’s spirit core. He sat down once Ye
Wangxi had left. “Are you planning to hide that forever?” he said bluntly.

“I can’t let her know,” Nangong Si said.

“You don’t think she’d leave you.”

“I just don’t want to upset her.”

“You’re very confident,” Jiang Xi sneered.

“No. I just have faith in her.”

“You’re very cavalier for someone in your position,” Jiang Xi said.

“You won’t cause me any trouble,” Nangong Si said confidently. “I know what kind of a person
you are.”

Remembering what Nangong Si had said when he thought he was dying, Jiang Xi regarded him
steadily. “Is it still true?”

“I’ll explain everything after I defeat Nangong Xu.”

“It’s a pity we won’t see the glory that Rufeng Sect could have been under your leadership.”

With a faint hint of pride, Nangong Si said, “It maintains its best in me.”

Rather than mock or refute Nangong Si – a rarity for Jiang Xi – he remained silent for a long
moment. “I have a more important question,” he said.

“My faewolf was injured,” Nangong Si said. “And you’re concerned about why the mountain is
not obeying my commands. But I can’t explain it either.”

“You have no scrap of secret knowledge?”

“I wish I did, but the mountain should obey all of the members of the Nangong family equally,
with the exception of Changying.”

“There’s absolutely no one else?”

“Absolutely not. The Flood Dragon’s soul recognizes its first master as the Grand Sect Leader, and
will never change.”

Eyes narrowed, Jiang Xi’s face grew more vicious. “So how did Nangong Xu do it?”

“I have no idea.” Nangong Si was staring at his father as he spoke, who was peeling an orange.
Pain crossed his face.

“Stop looking,” Jiang Xi told him, the raw emotion making him uncomfortable. “I mean it.”

It took all his strength to tear his eyes away, and Nangong Si buried his face in his palms. He could
keep his shoulders steady, but not control the hitch in his voice. “I don’t know how he did it,” he
repeated. “The Grand Sect Leader himself tamed the dragon.”

Stiffly, Jiang Xi extended a hand to pat Nangong Si on the shoulder. “It doesn’t matter,” he said
drily. “You and your father have had your differences, and you have taken your own path.”
Nangong Si ignored him, and Jiang Xi awkwardly felt that he had made matters worse. “Rest a
while,” he said, standing. “What’s that place up there?”

“The dragon soul pool,” Nangong Si said. “It’s where the dragon’s spirit was sacrificed, and it
sleeps in the pond. The sect worships it every year.”

“I hope it remains quiet,” Jiang Xi said, frowning.

The respite in the front hall lasted less than an hour as the wounded and exhausted tried to recover,
and Jiang Xi spent the time looking between the scenes of paradise and purgatory. He couldn’t
figure out why Nangong Xu had gone to the trouble to set them up. He had gotten Nangong Liu to
call him Your Majesty, Jiang Xi thought, and wondered if perhaps he had been setting up a sort of
kingdom. Eventually, his wandering feet took him to Nangong Liu and his basket of oranges.

“Could you take us to his majesty’s?” Jiang Xi asked.

“His majesty is quite busy,” Nangong Liu said.

“That’s useless of you,” Jiang Xi said, displeased.

Upset at being scolded, Nangong Liu hugged his orange basket and began to cry loudly enough
that it attracted the attention of others. Chu Wanning frowned. “He’s odd,” he said.

“Why?” Mo Ran asked.

“He doesn’t seem like the Nangong Liu that I know,” Chu Wanning mused.

Looking at him more closely, Mo Ran couldn’t help but feel that Chu Wanning wasn’t wrong.
Nangong Liu sobbed, rubbing his eyes, his mannerisms those of a child rather than an adult. Mo
Ran froze. “Sir,” he said, “do you think he seems rather childlike?”

Blinking, Chu Wanning looked with a different perspective and found that he agreed. “Could it be
that his spiritual sense was affected to keep him at the mental age of five or six?”

“I’ll go see,” Mo Ran said.

“How,” Chu Wanning asked.

Instead of answering, Mo Ran walked over to Nangong Liu and plucked an orange from his basket.
“Don’t cry,” he said. “Here.”

“That’s for his majesty,” Nangong Liu objected. “I’ve had one already.”

“And who is his majesty?” Mo Ran asked, returning the fruit to thebasket.

“I’ve already asked,” Jiang Xi muttered.

“His majesty is his majesty,” Nangong Liu said, confused. “Who else could he be?”

“So his majesty is his majesty,” Mo Ran said. “He will surely be happy if he sees how loyal and
sensible you are. Little brother, what’s your name, so I can tell him?”

Watching impatiently, Huang Xiaoyue started to step in. Jiang Xi stopped him, shaking his head.
Nangong Liu looked up for a moment. “Nangong Liu,” he said.

“Wonderful.” Mo Ran tousled his hair. “I’m twenty-two this year and my name is Mo Ran. How
old are you?”

“Five,” Nangong Liu said.

Complete silence spread through the hall, the words echoing despite their low volume. Most of the
cultivators were stunned, prevented from incredulous laughter only by the seriousness of the
situation. They glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. Jiang Xi stepped forward.

“What do you do here every day?” he asked.

Hiding behind Mo Ran, Nangong Liu tugged on his sleeve. “He’s scary,” he said. “I don’t want to
talk to him.”

Now that we have Established that he is five, Nangong Liu will engage in nothing but
stereotypically childish behaviors, which are markedly different from how he acted before.
This is something that has come up repeatedly; the author will vaguely hint at something,
and once Mo Ran or Chu Wanning have Deduced their conclusion from vague information,
the behavior traits will be turned up to eleven and not match what happened before said
conclusion was drawn. Annoying and badly written.

The corner of Mo Ran’s mouth twitched as he comforted the middle-aged man hiding behind him.
“Well, then, you don’t need to,” he said, impressing Jiang Xi with his handling of the situation.
“What do you do here every day?”

“I pick oranges,” Nangong Liu said earnestly. “And wash them. Then I take them up and wait for
his majesty to come out and eat them. He likes them the most,” he confided in Mo Ran. “He can
eat a whole basket in a day. The trees here used to be different, but he changed them because he
likes oranges so much.” His gaze dimmed. “It’s too bad he hasn’t been feeling well enough to
finish the basket.”

“He’s been ill?” Jiang Xi asked sharply.

“I’m not talking to you,” Nangong Liu said to him.

Jiang Xi stared at him, nonplussed, then turned around and stared at the wall. He grimaced at
Huang Xiaoyue until the other cultivator went away. Mo Ran blinked, and turned back to the child
in a man’s body. “He hasn’t been feeling well?” he asked.

“He coughs up blood,” Nangong Liu said. “He’s thin, but he doesn’t eat. Parts of his body are
rotten.” Tears dripped down his face. “I’m so worried. What would I do if he wasn’t here?”

said no five year old ever, this is not how a 5y/o thinks

“Sounds like backlash,” Xue Zhengyong said, interested.

Mo Ran was sure of it; the body festered if the caster’s qi was insufficient. He had felt the same
effects when he had first started experimenting, even losing parts his littlest toe, and he had been
afraid Chu Wanning would find out. It had been after that that he had developed the Shared-Heart
Array, and by the time he had been Emperor Evil Overlord, he had had so much spiritual power
that it had never happened again. His toe hadn’t grown back though.

Feeling curious, Mo Ran thought about the zombies outside; they were controlled by the Shared-
Heart Array, while the ones inside were controlled by Nangong Xu alone. He couldn’t fathom why
Nangong Xu would waste his time on something nonessential when he clearly didn’t have
sufficient qi. He thought it was useless to speculate with no further information.

The back door was pulled into the wall when activated, revealing the Central Hall of the Deities
Temple. It was an enclosed, hexagonal room with cold and damp walls. A statue of a soaring
dragon decorated the ceiling above a steaming blood-red pool. “The dragon soul pool,” Nangong
Si said. “Stay away from it; staring too long will cause you to lose your mind.”

The cultivators passed the pool one by one to enter the corridor on the far side of the central hall. It
was dark, but Mo Ran could still tell that they were going uphill. They continued to walk until
Nangong Liu stopped in front of a narrow door decorated with jewels and carvings.

3000 people went by in single file? Really? Also I didn’t know you needed light to be able to
tell if you were going up or down

“This leads to the soul summoning platform,” Nangong Si said. “It’s on the other side of a short
corridor, and Nangong Xu should be there.”
“There are three spaces inside the Heavenly Palace?” Huang Xiaoyue asked. “Front hall, the pool,
and the terrace?” At Nangong Si’s nod, he tilted his head. “No secret chamber?” he added, just
barely stopping himself from calling it a secret treasure chamber. “He could be there instead.”

The meaningful gaze from Nangong Si made Huang Xiaoyue think his true concern had been
exposed. “We’re going to the soul summoning platform,” was all he said.

The final door also needed to be unlocked with Nangong Si’s blood, spinning once it had been
activated. A faint sigh sounded, frightening Huang Xiaoyue. “Who was that? Are you trying to
play tricks on us?”

“Taoist Huang,” Nangong Si said. “It’s a little late to decide that you don’t trust me.”

Grimacing, Huang Xiaoyue followed him into the chamber. Having determined that all the
important doors needed Nangong blood to open, he surreptitiously swiped some from the
mechanism on the door as he entered, only to hear a disembodied voice from the black passageway
in front of them. “Who enters?”

“Nangong Si, of the seventh generation of the Rufeng Sect,” Nangong Si said, the only person who
didn’t flinch.

“Zhang Li welcomes the master,” said the voice, and faded.

“That’s the dragon’s name,” Nangong Si said over his shoulder. “Sect Leader Jiang, please.”

At the other end of the tunnel was a white light, perhaps a hundred feet away. Jiang Xi stepped
forward, only for the dragon to welcome him as well. “Is something wrong with it?”

Nangong Si’s eyes narrowed as he turned to look at the soul-summoning platform’s glowing light.
He heard hissing noises, and his stomach dropped. “Run!”

------

The only possible explanation for the hissing noise was that a pit of venomous snakes was rushing
forward, and the army started to panic. Jiang Xi stepped forward, releasing a sparkling powder
from his voluminous sleeves. The snakes that smelled it froze in place.

“Retreat to the central hall,” Jiang Xi called. “In an orderly fashion.” Catching up with the group,
he glanced to Nangong Si. “What happened?”

all 3000 of them in that tiny hall, you say

“It must have been controlled,” Nangong Si said. “I need to check the pool.”

Before he could leave, Jiang Xi grabbed him. “What about the rest of the snakes?” he said. “The
effects of the powder will wear off.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Ye Wangxi said. Having been taught in the shadow city since childhood, she
knew better than anyone else present how to fight in close and dark quarters. Her resolute
expression brooked no opposition, and Nangong Si patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back,”
she assured him.

The last to leave the tunnel were Jiang Xi and Nangong Si, and Huang Xiaoyue pounced on them.
He was vicious for an old man. “Nangong Si,” he said. “You have the nerve.”
Having reached the end of his rope, Nangong Si shouted back angrily. “Get out of my way!”

“You insolent little child,” Huang Xiaoyue hissed. “How dare you be so arrogant, when your entire
sect is gone?”

“Huang Xiaoyue.” Jiang Xi gritted his teeth. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Huang Xiaoyue said, with forced calm. “Perhaps you do not understand what
it means to have blood feud with Rufeng Sect.”

“I certainly don’t understand the desire for a hidden treasure chamber,” Jiang Xi said, coldly
rolling his eyes and glaring at Huang Xiaoyue with a gaze like two unsheathed knives. “Nangong
Si, go do what you need to do.”

Nothing unusual was revealed in the pool, and Nangong Si shook his head. “I’ll have to check the
front hall,” he said, ducking through the door.

The front hall was full of inanimate carvings and Zhenlong chess pieces, and Nangong Liu slept
soundly next to his basket of oranges in the middle of it. Nangong Si stood next to his father for a
moment, face empty, and then turned to the other chess pieces. If he was lucky, he thought, there
would be clues.

Paradise and Purgatory, Nangong Si thought, and saw the shadows of many dead people he had
known. His fourth uncle, always on bad terms with Nangong Xu, was in purgatory. The maids
from the courtyard were in the paradise section, and Nangong Si began to feel a glimmer of
anticipation. A trembling noise, as soft as a mosquito, rose above the murmurs.

Eyes wet with tears, Nangong Si rushed forward. “Mother,” he cried. The wetness spilled over his
cheeks as he rushed into the center of the Paradise tableau. Rong Yan stood majestically featured
in its center, invisible to everyone who had known her until that very moment despite being so
strong-willed that she had retained her personality.

“My son,” she said, reaching for him. She wore the same clothing she had worn when Nangong Si
had seen her for the last time. He knelt in front of her, feeling as though he had gone back in time.

Raising his head to look at her, Nangong Si could only say, “Mother.” Against his will, his lessons
from so long ago tumbled off his tongue, and everything went wrong.

“Si,” said Rong Yan, frowning. “That was incorrect.”

Stammering, Nangong Si couldn’t answer. Then she disappeared, and he had been unable to recite
his lessons correctly even in front of her grave. After more than ten years of silence, the right
words rang in his mind, and he looked up at her in pain. She caressed his hair and face, and he
grabbed her bloody hands.

“Your mother’s body is being controlled,” she said. “She won’t stay conscious, but you must
believe that these words come from the bottom of her heart. She loved you.”

“Mother,” Nangong Si moaned.

“I cannot hate your uncle, for he allowed me to meet you again,” she said, and embraced him
tightly. “I regretted most that I never hugged you. You were such a good boy.”

“I know,” Nangong Si sobbed, trembling so hard that he couldn’t feel the earth begin to shake.
“The blood contract is about to be broken,” Rong Yan said. “You must stay here, my son, I will go
stop your uncle.”

Wiping his tears, Nangong Si stood. “Mother, what did you see?”

“Listen,” she said, through clenched teeth. “Nangong Xu has collected five holy weapons, and
drunk the blood of ten thousand with them, and they will sever the link between the dragon and the
Nangong Family.”

“Sever the link?”

“First the dragon tendon, and then the dragon scale. Then the dragon’s tail.”

Mind racing, Nangong Si muttered, “The zombies freed themselves from the tendons, and the
snakes are the dragon scales.” He looked up, pale. “The vibration was the tail being severed?”

“Then the head, and finally the body,” Rong Yan said. “Using the fifth holy weapon would remove
his control of the mountain, and the dragon would never form another contract with Rufeng Sect
again.” Her face twisted in pain, and she pressed her fingers to the sides of her head. “No,” she
moaned.

“Mother!”

Rong Yan’s head snapped up with helpless expression Nangong Si had never seen before. He held
her in his arms, finally able to protect her, even if it was just a fragment of her soul. He knew it was
enough as she trembled in his embrace. She looked up, face marred by blood and tears, and closed
her eyes. “He has sensed me,” she said painfully. “I don’t have much time left. He cut off the
contract on purpose, and the reason was –“

Unable to continue, she lapsed out of consciousness, but Nangong Si already knew what she had
been going to say. The mountain would attack all of them, if Nangong Xu succeeded. “Fuck that,”
he said, just as Rong Yan opened her eyes and uttered a denial. “What do we do?” he asked,
looking down at her.

“Because he couldn’t train hard enough, he doesn’t have the qi for this, and there was a backlash.
Just listen to me. I heard his thoughts.” She held tightly onto his arm, and looked past Nangong Si
to her husband. “Someone has to die,” she said, staring at him like prey. “Si, go kill him.”

well that’s very very sus

------

“The contract with the dragon can only be strengthened by a blood sacrifice,” Rong Yan said.
“Either he dies, or you do. He’s already a chess piece, an unfaithful husband, an unscrupulous
father, a disrespectful king, and unworthy of being a man.”

Nangong Si froze where he was, as if he had also been made a chess piece. “Mother,” he said.

“Si,” she said. “You’re the only one who can act. Throw him in the pool and save yourself and
everyone here.”

Before Nangong Si could react, he heard a commotion from the central section. “Where did these
beetles come from?” He blinked, half-turning, and heard the rest of the army shrieking.

“You have to act quickly,” Rong Yan said. “Before he breaks it entirely.” When Nangong Si still
hesitated, she frowned. “He committed the crimes, he is the reason the sect is in such a state,
there’s no other choice!”

Although she looked as though she wanted to keep speaking, Rong Yan fell suddenly silent. A
dream-like expression spread over her face, and she walked back to her original position in the
Paradise tableau. Nangong Xu had finally regained control of her. She muttered nonsense words
with empty eyes, and Nangong Si trembled.

Kneeling, Nangong Si was sure there was no way out. His mother wanted him to commit an
atrocity, and would accept no excuses. Like her insistence he be a bright academic star as a child,
she expected more than he could give. Listening to the pitiful screams of the army, he knew the
beetles were terrifying, and yet how could he sacrifice his own father. He thought of Ye Wangxi,
fighting snakes alone in the darkness, and unsheathed his sword.

Nangong Si walked toward his kneeling father. He knew he should have had no room in his heart
for anything but hate for the man, for all of his misdeeds. He raised his sword, light reflecting on
his father’s face to illuminate his serenely childlike expression, and his father simply looked back.
Nangong Si turned away. “Stand up.”

“No, I’m supposed to sit here and wait for his majesty,” Nangong Liu pouted.

“Stop calling your brother that!” Nangong Si shouted.

“His majesty is my little brother, don’t yell at – why are you crying?”

Bitter, salty tears rolled down his cheeks, and Nangong Si hadn’t noticed. He knelt, shoulders
shaking, and he didn’t know why he couldn’t stop crying. He hated his father, and the clear choice
was to throw him in the dragon soul pool. Yet he couldn’t do it. He remembered when his father
had found him, after he had tripped and fallen while chasing Naobaijin into a field. His mother had
glared and demanded he stand, but his father had picked him up and embraced him.

“We all need help sometimes,” his father had said with a warm smile. It was his first memory of
his father.

That child now grown into manhood staggered, stuck on his knees, and bowed toward his mother.
A hand caught his sleeve, and he looked to see his father’s face. Nangong Liu offered him an
orange.

“Don’t cry,” he said. “The oranges are delicious.”

Memories of his father feeding him as a child overwhelmed Nangong Si, and the orange’s juice
flowed over his tongue. He wiped his tears and threw down his sword, stalking toward the central
section. A chaotic battle raged over the dragon soul pool. The dragon’s tail had become beetles,
killing many cultivators and sending a river of blood coursing across the floor.

No one noticed Nangong Si enter the hall. He thought of his crushed spirit core, and the
expectation he had had of being an ordinary man until he died. He thought that fate knew he
wouldn’t have been able to survive such an ignominious life. His only unfinished business was Ye
Wangxi, and he looked toward where she fought the snakes.

With a smile, Nangong Si thought that he wouldn’t have to face her, or tell her that he understood
her good intentions or thank her for never giving up on him. He wouldn’t have to tell her that he
would have stayed with her forever. It would only have heard her, he thought, and he fell into the
pool.
Nangong Si’s last action, before the boiling pool engulfed him and melted his bones to ash, was to
fling the quiver his mother had made to safety. The tiny form of Naobaijin was inside, howling as it
landed on the side of the pool. Nangong Si could hear Chu Wanning shout his name. He wanted to
answer, to tell him that he couldn’t ever have rejected him as a teacher or refused to recognize him.
He wanted to say that he remembered Chu Wanning rejecting him, and his own pride in refusing to
acknowledge it.

Nangong Si thought about how his father had fed him oranges, and his mother had embraced him.
He felt that Naobaijin and Ye Wangxi were both safe, and his spirit shattered. The dragon
screamed, and the monsters and fiends assaulting the army shriveled into dust. Ye Wangxi rushed
out of the corridor just in time to see Nangong Si falling into the depths of the bloody pool, with
Chu Wanning gathering the wailing Naobaijin in his arms.

I’m sorry, he spent how much of his dying attention focused on Chu Wanning instead of on
the people he actually spent his life with…?

“Si!” she screamed, sword clattering to the ground, voice hoarse. She staggered forward, fatal
wounds covering her body. The snakes’ venom coursed through her veins, chilling her body. “Si,”
she whispered, lips purple with the poison. Tears streamed down her face, and she collapsed.

Still, Ye Wangxi dragged herself forward, desperately hoping that if she could just reach the pool,
everything would be fine. Nangong Si had promised her, she thought, and he wouldn’t have broken
his promise. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she scrabbled for the edge of the pool. Her vision
dimmed, and she sobbed aloud.

“You promised,” she whispered. “You have to come back to keep it.”

Darkness fell over Ye Wangxi, and she slowly closed her eyes. The spirit of the dragon had been
suppressed with his sacrifice, and the mountain could no longer by subverted by Nangong Xu. His
nephew had dealt him the heaviest blow he had suffered so far, and no one spoke in the silence.

once again, we are lovingly describing a woman’s suffering In Great Detail, and it is just as
gross this time as it was with Mo Ran’s mother and with Luo Xianxian

The light emanating from the pool slowly dimmed, and Mo Ran approached Chu Wanning. His
teacher’s head was lowered, eyes closed, and the hand holding Naobaijin was cold. His veins
bulged with how hard it was for him to endure.

“Sir,” Mo Ran said.

Chu Wanning, feeling some kind of way, placed Naobaijin and the quiver at Ye Wangxi’s side. He
stood, tears in his eyes, the moisture freezing to ice as he regarded the path toward the Soul
Summoning Platform. Without speaking, he summoned Heavenly Questions and dramatically
walked toward the passageway.

Mo Ran followed, all of Sisheng Peak’s disciples silently at his heels. Taxue Palace and Lonemoon
Sect came after, a few disciples left behind to heal the injured and stand guard. Jiang Xi tossed
some careless instructions over his shoulder. “Pay special attention to Miss Ye,” he said. “If
anyone dies, you all lose a year’s pay.”

The door leading to the platform was already open. The cultivator army that approached it had lost
many men, but they were about to reach their final destination. They were almost at the Soul
Summoning Platform.
------

The vast open platform floated in front of Chu Wanning as he stepped out of the tunnel, a pure land
floating against the nine heavens and the bright moon. Nangong Xusat cross-legged on the ground,
eyes closed, and the right half of his body had rotted away. A terrible stench hung over him, and
five fierce spirits surrounded him.

No Return lay on the ground, its green glow curling upward to join the light of the other four holy
weapons, feeding into Nangong Xu’s heart. Mo Ran’s fingers curled as he saw how it gave
Nangong Xu’s face an eerie glow, framed by a cloud of black twisting smoke.

“The Martial Soul Technique?” Huang Xiaoyue muttered.

“What’s he talking about?” said a younger disciple.

Face pale, Xue Zhengyong glanced at Chu Wanning, who stared at Nangong Xu. “It’s a technique
dedicating a soul to a holy weapon drenched in blood, making a contract with it stating that the
weapon will consume the soul upon the body’s death, becoming a sacrifice to temper it.”

“Why?” Xue Meng asked.

“Because he needs more spiritual power,” Chu Wanning answered. “It rapidly and significantly
enhances someone’s qi.”

Most of the army flinched back at the explanation, but Xue Meng moved forward and stared
intently at Nangong Xu’s face. The former sect leader opened his eyes, one clear, one rotting. He
smiled.

“Grandmaster Chu,” he said. “You’ve arrived.” He stood, glancing across the assembled army. His
normal eye widened. “Where’s Ye Wangxi?” he demanded.

“You have the gall to say her name,” Xue Meng said, outraged.

“Where is she?”

“You heartless monster!” Xue Meng shouted. “You have no right to ask for her.”

“Stop this nonsense,” Jiang Xi growled. “Kill him.” He raised his sword, ready to strike, but a dark
shadow pulled him back. He looked sideways. “Grandmaster Mo,” he said. “What do you think
you’re doing?”

“I have a question for him,” Mo Ran said, eyes shining with complex light. He licked his lips,
finally vomiting out four words. “What about your accomplices?”

Rubbing his bare toes, Nangong Xu smiled. “They said they were my partners,” he said. “You
should know better. You need to take care of your hearts.” He glanced at Mo Ran’s weapon.
“Don’t try to use that on me,” he added. “I’d cut off my tongue before telling you the truth.”

“You dare to mention our hearts,” Xue Meng said, newly indignant.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Nangong Xu said. “I’m a righteous man. Friends help each other, brothers are
respectful, the world enjoys peace. Surely you see this is how it should be.”

Stunned, Xue Meng pointed at him. “What the fuck are you on about?” He trembled in fury. “You
mutilated your brother, you’re the one who did all the bad shit, how dare you say this is how it
should be?”

“How old are you?” Nangong Xu asked curiously. “You can’t be more than in your twenties.” He
smiled. “Full of piss and vinegar, innocence and pride, you think you know everything. What a
wonderful age.”

The bright smile was out of place on Nangong Xu’s half-decayed face, but he didn’t seem to notice
that his body was being swallowed by corruption. His fingers twirled, manipulating thousands of
chess pieces, and with every motion the decay spread further. He paced back and forth.

“Do you know what I was doing when I was that age?”

“I know exactly what you did,” Xue Meng retorted. “You usurped your brother’s position of sect
leader, killed multiple people, and then dug out other people’s eyes. You dead pervert. If that’s
what we’re supposed to do in our twenties, we should all die at twelve!”

Afraid his son would attract Nangong Xu’s attention, Xue Zhengyong tugged on his sleeve.
“Meng, shut up,” he hissed.

“No, no,” Nangong Xu said, flicking his sleeves. “Let him keep talking.” His smile broadened, like
a parrot flapping its wings on a shelf.

“You’re a piece of work,” Xue Meng growled.

“You said I usurped my brother’s position,” Nangong Xu said thoughtfully. “But he was so bad at
it. All he ever does is talk, and yet people think we’re equally skilled cultivators. It’s ridiculous. I
could beat him with one hand, and all he ever did was flatter people and slack off. What an
asshole. And yet I get called a plagiarist for stealing his technique – when it was mine to begin
with – and he gets his position back. Tell me, how is that justice?”

“What you did was still wrong,” Xue Meng said stubbornly.

“So what, I should have just rolled over?” Nangong Xu sneered. “Like you did during the Spiritual
Mountain Competition?”

Xue Meng’s mouth hung open. He had no answer for Nangong Xu’s accusations. He hadn’t just
accepted his fate – he had struggled against it, he had persevered and succeeded.

“If hundreds of people had insulted you and your hard-won victory had been given to someone
else, would that have been fair?” Nangong Xu pressed. “Tell me again how I did wrong. The men I
killed fucked me over, and they had it coming.”

The assembled army was furious, hearing those words, but none of them could find the words to
react politely until Xuan Jing of Wubei Temple spoke. “There are ways to address grievances,” he
said.

“As if those who had thrust me down would have given me a fair hearing,” Nangong Xu sneered.
“Don’t be such a naïve fool.”

“How dare you speak to your elders like that,” said someone from the back of the crowd.

“I’ll speak however I please,” Nangong Xu said.

Huang Xiaoyue grimaced. “Nangong Xu,” he said.

“I’d rather you call me Xu Shuanglin,” Nangong Xu said thoughtfully.

Without missing a beat, Huang Xiaoyue continued. “Even if those murders were somehow
justified, how do you explain digging out all those eyes?”

“Nobody listened to me,” Nangong Xu said, laughing. “I’ve gone mad, and you want me to
rationally explain myself! I rather think you’re the mad ones.”

“So you wanted justice,” Mo Ran said quickly, and Nangong Xu whipped around to stare at him.
They faced each other across the stone platform, and Mo Ran saw another figure through Nangong
Xu’s blurred form. He wore a pearl corona and a black gown – Emperor Evil Overlord. “We saw
Nangong Liu,” he said. “He called you your majesty, and we see you have become emperor here.
So does that mean that your word is always correct, and your decisions are unilateral? That’s how
you define justice?”

In Nangong Xu’s answering sneer, Mo Ran saw Emperor Evil Overlord’s contemptuous face.
“And what of it?” Nangong Xu said. “The world isn’t just.” He paced back and forth. “You’re the
ones who revere cowards, shitting on hard work and venerating shit. You see arrogance as humility
and flattery as friendliness. Don’t make me laugh. You left me no recourse.”

In Mo Ran’s vision, the Evil Overlord’s sneer became more pronounced, finally becoming a sneer.
“That doesn’t make it right,” he said. “Your hands are stained with bone and blood. Have you no
regrets?”

“Regrets?” Nangong Xu laughed. “I killed them, but they’ll be reborn as my chess pieces. Under
my control, the world will be clearly divided into good and evil as it should be.”

“You see yourself as arbiter of justice,” Mo Ran said.

“I am the ruler,” Nangong Xu replied, but Mo Ran only saw the Evil Overlord. “Did you see the
front hall? Wasn’t it beautiful? Good people living in peace, while the wicked suffer. It is the way
it should be.”

“You think too much of yourself,” Mo Ran told him.

“Why shouldn’t I?” the Evil Overlord replied. “I’m the best.”

No one spoke for a moment, shocked by Nangong Xu’s bold claims. He had been thought to be a
mad despot seeking personal power or indulging in hatred, but his captive audience was humbled
to learn that he had actually been seeking justice and fairness. Mo Ran remained silent, calm
slowly returning, and he raised his eyes to Nangong Xu. This time, Mo Ran could see the half-
rotted face instead of Emperor Evil Overlord.

“Is taking away the minds of your chess pieces justice?” he asked calmly. “Is this your definition
of fair?”

His mind flew from memory to memory like a snowstorm, remembering the Nangong Xu of his
past. He had died to save Ye Wangxi, he had stood barefoot in his courtyard teasing parrots. He
had asked for an orange at Jincheng Lake. Mo Ran thought of the pure child Nangong Liu and the
dead Luo Fenghua.

“Am I right, Nangong Xu?”

“I told you to call me Xu Shuanglin.”

“No. Your name is Nangong Xu.” Mo Ran stepped forward, knowing that he understood the man
before him better than anyone else in the room. He kept a close eye on the subtle changes in his
face, stopping and looking down. “It’s cold,” he said. “Why don’t you wear shoes?”

“I don’t wear what I don’t want to,” Nangong Xu said, face freezing.

“And Ye Wangxi?” Mo Ran paused. “I saw you that day, not wearing shoes, and she was the one
who told you to put them on. I saw how you reacted.” The expression on Nangong Xu’s face told
him that he was right. “You wanted someone to notice,” he said softly. “And care enough to tell
you.”

“Shut up,” Nangong Xu said, good humor sliding off his features.

He had chosen his audience poorly. Mo Ran simply looked at him, once again seeing the
similarities between this man and Emperor Evil Overlord. “Put your shoes on,” he said. “The
ground is cold.”

Like a cheetah, Nangong Xu rushed for Mo Ran and grabbed his robes in a fury. One healthy and
one rotten hand grasped him, and his eyes were full of blood. “I told you to shut up!” he raved.

“I have one more thing to say,” Mo Ran said calmly.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Ye Wangxi looked a lot like Luo Fenghua,” Mo Ran said, each word deliberately cruel.

The strength ran out of Nangong Xu like water, and those around Mo Ran were once again
stunned. The connection between the two cultivators, both without families, began to coalesce in
their minds. The assembled crowd thought how right Mo Ran was, that the two had such similar
mannerisms. Nangong Xu let go of Mo Ran, burying his face in his hands with trembling
shoulders.

“Is he crying?” Xue Meng asked.

The tremors became more and more pronounced, Nangong Xu’s face still hidden, until finally he
looked up with a twisted smile and his laughter spilled out. “They look alike?” he said. “That’s so
ridiculous. You’re grasping at straws, Grandmaster Mo.”

“So where’s Luo Fenghua’s body?” Mo Ran asked.

“Where,” Nangong Xu repeated.

“You control the punishment for good and evil,” Mo Ran said. “But you didn’t want to kill your
brother. Hell, you even healed him of his curse. And if you did that for him, then Luo Fenghua
should still be here.” He paused, but Nangong Xu just stared at him. “The second entrance guard
technique is also complicating matters,” Mo Ran added. “Did you save Luo Fenghua from hell?”

Face pale as plaster, Nangong Xu opened and closed his mouth. White smoke arose from the black
mist circling behind him, and the gathered army once again reacted. Xue Zhengyong was quickest.

“Oh, that’s not good!”

------

“Meng, stay behind me!” Xue Zhengyong roared over the sound of swords sliding out of their
sheaths.

That the holy weapon array could not be broken was understood by everyone present; if it were to
dissipate, it would take Nangong Xu’s qi along with it, and he couldn’t be allowed to die before he
had been questioned. No one present had expected him to conceal an array within an array, and no
one could anticipate what it would be. Chu Wanning raised his hand to place a precautionary
barrier.

“Be careful,” he warned.

The sky darkened and the clouds converged, covering the moon and sending dust flying. Nangong
Xu stood in the center of the raging wind in his pure white under-robe. He suddenly grinned at
them. “Thank you for listening,” he said. “The array has now been activated.” As he spoke, he
pointed behind him with his decaying hand. The black array shot upward and arced down to settle
in his palm and reveal a curse array glowing with colorful lights.

“What the hell is that?” Xue Meng exclaimed.

“Is this a Rebirth Array?” Xue Zhengyong asked, looking at Wubei Temple’s Xuan Jing.

“I don’t think so,” Xuan Jing replied. “But although we have committed the sin of keeping the
knowledge of such an array alive, I have never seen it, so I can’t be sure.”

The army was as still as stone statues, waiting for Nangong Xu to make the first move, and the
wind whistled across the sky. The tension strained higher, shattered by a sudden shout. “It’s a
Corpse Soul Array!” Hua Binan’s voice shook. “He means to summon Luo Fenghua as a demonic
corpse to kill all of us! We must disrupt it before he succeeds!”

The name of the array threw the army into disarray, as all present knew that it was a demonic
technique second only to the three forbidden techniques. As it fell under the purview of a medicinal
technique, the army trusted Hua Binan’s words to be true. Familiar with the array since youth,
Jiang Xi’s reaction was quicker than anyone else. He released his blade Silver Phoenix from the
front of the barrier, sending his full spiritual power into the center of the forming array.

Swords and sabers clashed and flames flew, but Nangong Xu managed to block Jiang Xi’s
weapon. With cold eyes, he laughed. “This is the culmination of my life’s work. You won’t get in
the way.”

“This?” Jiang Xi exploded. “This abomination?”

“Shut up!” Nangong Xu snarled, hands trembling and face flushing red with effort.

“You’re so badly wounded that you won’t survive this,” Jiang Xi said. “Stop involving everyone
else in your death wish!”

“Ha,” Nangong Xu said. “Look more closely.” As they struggled, an arrow full of spiritual power
raced for the barrier from sources unknown, and Nangong Xu’s face filled with terror. “Stop!” he
cried.

Jiang Xi’s falling sword struck at Nangong Xu in his moment of distraction. Blood fountained and
he fell to his knees, eyes tracking to the array. He trembled, still releasing qi into it as he trembled
in pain. The array was complete, and he forced out a smile with paper-white lips despite the blood
still pouring from the wound.

“That’s not a Corpse Soul Array,” Mo Ran heard from somewhere beside him.
Huang Xiaoyue, always present to mock others, snorted. “Little boy, you think you know better
than the Cold Scale Sacred Hand?”

Shi Mei shook his head. “That’s not what this is,” he said.

“Shi Mei,” Mo Ran said, drawing his attention. “Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure,” Shi Mei said. “The Corpse Soul Array should glow like fish scales. The light
coming off whatever this is doesn’t have that pattern.”

“Nangong Xu, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jiang Xi shouted.

The array emitted dazzling brilliance as Nangong Xu completely ignored Jiang Xi to drag his
damaged body to its glowing form. His smile grew wider, and for a moment he looked young and
healthy again. He raised a hand to lightly touch the array’s surface and then pressed more deeply
into it. Ripples appeared, and the vicious wind died away to nothing. The thick clouds dispersed,
showing a full moon. Its light shone down on Nangong Xu’s hope-filled face. “Sir,” he said,
trembling with elation.

Golden light floated within the barrier, coalescing into a translucent spirit core. With light from the
array, the core slowly took the shape of a human. Shocked whispers rippled through the cultivator
army, identifying the man as Luo Fenghua, dead for years. An orange tree with blooming white
petals spread over his seated form.

Still a shadow, only his Ghost-borne Spiritual Core had been fully manifested, but his voice was
audible as he sang a traditional melody from under the tree with his eyes closed. His voice was
light and pleasant, but it was ruined by Nangong Xu’s hoarse croaking as he attempted to
harmonize. Choked with sobs, he kept singing.

“This isn’t the Corpse Soul Array,” Xue Zhengyong said loudly. “What is this?”

Frowning, Jiang Xi pursed his lips and continued to watch as Luo Fenghua’s form continued to
solidify. His face became clearer and clearer. As he continued to sing, Hua Binan called anxiously.
“The demons are about to manifest!”

“No, sir!” Shi Mei called, gathering all of his courage. “This is a-“

Mo Ran already knew that it was a Rebirth Array, and that Shi Mei was correct. But he also knew
that the army wouldn’t believe such a junior disciple over the Cold Scale Sacred Hand. As soon as
Hua Binan spoke, Mo Ran could see a dark green shadow flash past them, thrusting a dagger
imbued with qi toward the barrier.

The single strike shattered Luo Fenghua’s core. The golden light of the barrier flickered and
dissipated, and Nangong Xu howled in despair. He roared, flinging a bolt of energy toward the
cultivator who had thrown the dagger – one of the Lonemoon disciples, who fell dead to the
ground. Nangong Xu’s eyes rolled as he understood that his revenge had changed nothing; he had
already expended too much energy trying to reconstitute the spiritual core the first time, and it was
too late.

“Sir,” Nangong Xu whispered, and then madness shone in his eyes. “Luo Fenghua!” he screamed,
to no avail. His teacher’s essence dissolved to thousands of dots of light and then winked out.
Nangong Xu knelt stiffly, frozen into silence. The cracked spirit core dimmed on the soul
summoning platform, falling lifelessly to the ground. After a long moment, his ruined voice rose in
the song that Luo Fenghua had been singing.
Memories of when he had been young and alive washed over Nangong Xu, when he and his
brother had first met their teacher. He had been young himself, when Nangong Xu’s father had
introduced them, and shy. He had loved oranges, fidgeting with them to alleviate his anxiety as he
met the sons of the sect leader. Both Nangong Liu and Nangong Xu had been taken with him, but
Nangong Xu had seen him more as a younger brother than an authority figure as he stood under the
orange trees. He had grinned impudently. “Have you turned twenty yet?” he had asked.

Much to Nangong Xu’s surprise, their honored teacher had been all of seventeen. His father had
scolded him, telling him that age was not a determination of skill, and when he had finally been
released, he had seen his brother and new teacher deep in conversation. Nangong Xu hadn’t been
surprised; even then, he had known how sociable his brother was, how charismatic and
manipulative, and Luo Fenghua had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

Even so, Luo Fenghua had tried to please Nangong Xu as well, offering him an orange. It had been
at that moment that Nangong Xu had seen how threadbare and patched the man’s clothes were. He
had understood then how nervous his prospective teacher must have been. Still, he had glared. “I
don’t like oranges,” he’d said. “I want you to remember that.”

Despite his rudeness, Luo Fenghua hadn’t been angry. He had placated Nangong Xu’s father and
smiled. He had even insisted that all he wanted was to teach, that it didn’t matter whether or not he
had an official master-disciple relationship. He was too young anyway, he had said, and reputation
was nothing more than empty words. Nangong Xu had despised him for his pretention then, but he
had known that he was right about reputation. He hadn’t known then that he had met a man who
would change his entire life.

------

Two years passed rapidly, with the Nangong brothers as Luo Fenghua's students. One autumn day,
Nangong Xu lay on the roof, where few people went. His brother and teacher were with him,
encouraged to share his sanctuary. The three men watched the clouds and dragonflies, until a voice
called from below.

are we going to spend the entire chapter in a flashback? way to kill all the narrative
momentum and get rid of the tension without resolving it

"Liu! Xu!" called their father. "Where are you?" They heard him mutter. "Every time they need to
do chores, they disappear."

Nangong Liu glanced down, backing away from the edge before their father could see him. "We
should go," he said.

"He's an idiot," said Nangong Xu. "He won't look for us up here."

"Uh," said Luo Fenghua. "We really shouldn't be doing this."

"It doesn't matter," Nangong Liu said, making a face. "Don't worry. Tell him, Xu."

Without taking a side, Nangong Xu spat out his dogtail grass. "I want some seeds."

Rolling his eyes, Nangong Liu gave him some melon seeds. Nangong Xu ate them slowly, looking
uneasily at Luo Fenghua. "Are you nervous, sir?"

"I just don't think we should be slacking off."

"Don't worry, we'll cover for you," Nangong Xu said. He held out a hand. "I want an orange."
"You said you don't like oranges."

Nangong Xu frowned. "Give it to me or I throw you off the roof."

"Don't be so rude," Nangong Liu said.

"What the hell?" Nangong Xu said. "Sir, you always want other people to listen to you, but you're
skiving off with us up here." Embarrassed, Luo Fenghua lowered his head. Nangong Xu was
elated, loving to bully his weaker teacher, and he grinned widely. "I'm not wrong, am I, little
brother, sir?"

"Don't call me that," Luo Fenghua said; Nangong Xu had taken to calling him the intimate
nickname, and he didn't like it.

"Little brother, sir, you said that this was just a formality," Nangong Xu protested. He stretched out
a hand. "Orange."

"I only brought one for Liu, because you don't like them."

Glaring at his brother , Xu Shuanglin opened his eyes. Nangong Liu was stuffing pastries into his
mouth, but he froze and swallowed. "I don't want it today," he said. "You can give it to my brother,
sir."

"What if you split it?" Luo Fenghua said after a moment. He cleaned and peeled the orange, but he
couldn't divide it evenly, and looked at it with a worried face.

"I want the big half," Nangong Xu said, taking the fruit out of his teacher's hands. "I'll give it to
him."

"Don't bully your brother," Luo Fenghua said, but his speech was interrupted by an orange slice.
He widened his round eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Nangong Xu said. "I was going to share mine with you, little
brother, sir."

Nangong Liu reached for the other half of the orange, dividing the sections and sharing them. He
chuckled, dividing the melon seeds and the pastries as well. "We should share all of it," he said.

Moved to tears, Luo Fenghua could only stare at the two brothers. He felt happy, seeing their kind
and mischievous faces. "You're playing a trick on me," he said finally.

"No, no," said Nangong Liu.

Nangong Xu burst out laughing, and touched his forehead. "Okay, then we'll eat oranges together
forever. And other snacks." He paused. "We'll always hang out on the roof."

Later that year, the Lantern Festival arrived. Walking barefoot along the sect's main road, Nangong
Xu held a branch between his teeth and occasionally removed it to direct the disciples hanging
lanterns. An anxious voice came from behind him. "Xu, wait." It was Luo Fenghua, holding a pair
of shoes. "Why are you barefoot again?"

"The road is paved with Qi Refining Stones," Nangong Xu said. "If I walk barefoot, I get qi."

"It's too cold to worry about that," said Luo Fenghua.

"So annoying," said Nangong Xu, but he put the shoes on slowly. He narrowed his eyes. "Are you
bored? Is that why you're here?"

"No, Liu's class isn't finished yet. I have to go back."

"If you want to make sure my brother finishes his lessons, you'll miss the entire festival," Nangong
Xu said haughtily.

"That's okay," Luo Fenghua laughed. "I don't really like crowds." At those words, Nangong Xu
kicked his shoes off angrily. Luo Fenghua was astonished. "Why did you do that?"

"I don't want them," Nangong Xu said. "Fuck off."

"It's cold," Luo Fenghua objected.

"Go away!"

"Are you upset?"

"Why would I be upset?" Nangong Xu said, face disgusted. "You're both idiots, you and my
brother. Leave me alone." He walked away casually, but deep down, he hoped that Luo Fenghua
would chase him. His feet were freezing, but he wanted Luo Fenghua to show how much he cared
by telling him to put the shoes back on. He kept walking, waiting. But Luo Fenghua just let him
walk away.

The city gates were a hundred yards away, but no one called for him before he got there. Nangong
Xu slowed down, rubbing at his knuckles, and then frowned. He walked down the steps, one floor
and then two, and told himself that he didn't need anyone else to love him. He had been alone his
entire life, he thought, and he hadn't been able to see the lanterns on his own in years. And yet he
couldn't help turning.

"Luo Fenghua!" Nangong Xu called.

author is setting up exactly the same dynamic she set up with chu wanning, in which a whiny
asshole refuses to use his words to ask for what he needs, except that apparently the
difference is that mo ran Saved chu wanning but nobody saves nangong xu; since they
behave exactly the same, i can't tell what the point she's trying to make with this comparison
is

Still standing in a daze, Luo Fenghua jerked awake. "Ah," he said, and ran forward. He and
Nangong Liu went to the Lantern Festival with Nangong Xu that year.

Another time, both brothers were struggling with their lessons - or, Nangong Xu thought, his
brother was struggling with the lesson and he was struggling to help his brother. No matter how
often he repeated the information, Nangong Liu refused to remember the details. His brother had
the unmitigated gall to whine at him about not being clever rather than apply himself.

Before they could start arguing, Luo Fenghua returned with a tray containing supper for all three of
them. Snow dusted his hair and coat. "We should take a break," he said.

Cheering, Nangong Liu raced for the table. Nangong Xu held him back. "Why are you rushing?
Be more polite."

"What?" Nangong Liu was flabbergasted by his brother's uncharacteristic insistence on courtesy,
but when he glanced back to see Nangong Xu's angry face, he smiled placatingly. "Thank you, sir,
for bringing us dinner."
"Fine, fine," Nangong Xu said, mollified by his brother's obsequious joking. "Let's eat."

Rubbing his red, stiff hands, Luo Fenghua blew on his cold fingers. Nangong Xu helped him
remove his cloak. "No, it's fine," he said.

"Is it snowing?" Nangong Xu asked.

"It is," Luo Fenghua said. "We can have a snowball fight."

"Sir," Nangong Xu said sarcastically, suddenly infuriated. "How old are you?" He searched for
another reason to vent his anger, and pointed at a patched point on Luo Fenghua's cloak. "Are you
poor? How long have you been working for us and you're still dressed like this?"

"It would be a waste to just throw it away," Luo Fenghua said apprehensively. "It's still fixable."
He wilted under Nangong Xu's angry glare. "Don't you think so?"

"I think it's a poor and dirty habit," Nangong Xu said loftily.

The three of them settled around the tray to eat the dumplings, and chatted. The snow covered the
ground outside, but the fire crackled merrily indoors. After they broke out the alcohol, the three
cultivators became more cheerful. Feeling unable to refuse, Luo Fenghua accepted the wine. A
little tipsy, he started singing a song of his childhood.

"Oh, that's lovely, sir. What song is that?"

"Young You," said Luo Fenghua. "It's from Shu Province."

Laughing, Nangong Liu raised his head. His usually unctuous smile had turned into something
sincere under the influence of the wine. "It's a great song," he said.

"You can't recite a book no matter how much you repeat it," Nangong Xu said. "You're not going
to learn those lyrics."

"We all have strengths and weaknesses," Nangong Liu said.

"You're just drunk," Nangong Xu returned.

Raising his wine cup, Luo Fenghua smiled. "I hope you will continue to care about each other as
long as you live," he said.

Laughing as Nangong Xu pushed him away, Nangong Liu raised his glass. "Sir, even though we
didn't see the lanterns this year, we should make a wish."

Nangong Xu frowned. "How childish."

"Write it on paper," Luo Fenghua said. "Then throw it into the fire and it'll come true."

All three cultivators wrote down wishes - Luo Fenghua wrote his desire for his students to remain
close. Nangong Liu wrote his hope for good food and harmony, while Nangong Xu hung back in
disgust. He couldn't explain why he was so angry, only that no one paid attention to him. He had
only been able to make a friend after Luo Fenghua had arrived, and he regarded him as his best
friend and not as his teacher. He was even no longer jealous of his brother's sociability, finding his
brother lovable for the first time.

"What did you write, Xu?"

Instead of answering, Nangong Xu threw his paper into the fire. It caught fire and flared, flames
reflecting in his eyes. "It was blank," he said softly.

Disappointed, Luo Fenghua ad Nangong Liu exclaimed loudly, but Nangong Xu threw back his
head and laughed. He shook his head, thinking inside that he had lied. He had written his hope that
he and his brother and his teacher would be friends for life, eating oranges, climbing onto rooftops.
From now, he had written, until they were old and gray.

------

The scattered golden lights suddenly seemed to Nangong Xu to be the wish he had naively made
on the night of the Lantern Festival, that he would be able to be friends with his brother and Luo
Fenghua forever. He was no longer the person he had been when he had made the wish - he
thought of himself as Xu Shuanglin, the madman, the demon, the person who wanted to murder
the world as the heart of Nangong Xu had been murdered.

The passing of the years had left their mark on him, just as they left it on the willow and the maple,
but Nangong Xu was still able to feel sympathy and pity for Ye Wangxi. He was still moved by
kindness. He knelt on the soul summoning platform and finally let himself cry, the tears flowing
down his ruined face. He clutched the lifeless spirit core that should have been Luo Fenghua and
wailed in desolation.

The thought of the Spiritual Mountain Competition had filled Nangong Xu with resentment,
leading him to usurp his brother's position out of jealousy. He remembered the disbelief in his
father's old, pale face at his audacity when he had placed a hand on his father's throat and murdered
him. His face had been cold and ruthless as he had whispered that he would take the sect, if it
wouldn't be given to him, and he had pressed the ring of the sect leader to his lips. It had been no
colder than his face.

All Nangong Xu had wanted was justice, and he had looked down at his father's body. He had been
justified in taking what wasn't given to him. As the sect leader, he knew exactly how to deal with
the outsiders who had plotted against him in the competition - kill them swiftly - but he hadn't
known what to do with his brother or Luo Fenghua. The twilight had deepened around him on the
day of his father's death, and he had gone to where his brother and teacher were imprisoned.

A few followers had gone with him, but he had begun to feel cold and dizzy before he had arrived.
He had waved off questions of infirmity, telling his disciples that he had forgotten to do something
and would join them presently. Suppressing the increasing pain, he had pulled his hood on and
headed for the main hall.

oh my fucking god another flashback? Narrative momentum? What’s that?

Shoving the door open, Nangong Xu closed the door tightly. He glared at the guards. “Stay
outside,” he said harshly. “Keep everyone else out.”

Panting, Nangong Xu staggered into the hall. He pulled his hood off, seeing that his skin was
damaged, and his first thought was that his father had cursed him. His second was that it was
impossible, for the old man had been too ill to cast spells. The pain was excruciating, as if muscle
and bone were being torn to shreds, and he writhed on the ground in agony. He could tell no one,
though, as a military leader couldn’t expose such weakness.

While he writhed, Nangong Xu accidentally tugged down a curtain. It landed across his body,
hiding it from the moonlight, and the pain diminished. He huddled under the curtain for a while,
gasping in relief as it subsided, and finally pushed the curtain aside to sit up. The agony started
anew, his skin sloughing off, and Nangong Xu realized what the curse truly was.

Struggling, Rufeng Sect’s new leader staggered to his feet and closed all the shutters so tightly that
not a shred of light could shine through. The pain disappeared, flesh healing rapidly, and his
breathing slowed. He wrapped himself tightly in his cloak and rushed to the library. Finally, he
found an ancient scroll, in which it was written the record of Nangong Changying’s defeat of a
demonic beast.

Although the beast had been sealed in the Golden Drum Tower, Nangong Changying had been
cursed. The beast’s nature had been yin, and it had cursed every leader of Rufeng Sect with pain
and decay if moonlight touched their skin. On full moon nights, when Yin Qi was most abundant,
the pain would be unceasing. It had been the greatest secret of Rufeng Sect for hundreds of years.

On the second day, Nangong Xu reached the water prison. His brother and sister-in-law were both
locked inside, with Luo Fenghua in another cell. He visited his brother first, and Nangong Liu
called out to him. Convinced that Nangong Xu had gone mad, Nangong Liu could only kneel and
beg. “Have you gone mad?”

“I just got what I deserved,” Nangong Xu said. “You stole my technique and ruined my reputation.
I am only twenty, and you have shown me the truth of the world.” He approached his brother
slowly, bending to meet Nangong Liu’s eyes. “Trash like you have nothing more than ambition.
No skill, no talent, no work ethic.” He pried open his brother’s mouth. “Look at that useless
weapon,” he said. “Cut it out.”

Eyes wide in fear, Nangong Liu could only writhe in panic. He was held down with an
enchantment, unable to escape. He moaned, unable to speak around his brother’s iron grip.

“No?” Nangong Xu sneered. “Then I’ll show you mercy.” He let go.

“Don’t kill me,” Nangong Liu begged. “I’ll give you justice!”

“Too late,” Nangong Xu said, wiping his hands on a handkerchief. “No one would believe you.”

“Just because you’ve been wronged doesn’t mean this is justified!” snapped Rong Yan. “You
killed your father, and now you want to kill your brother? How could you be so heartless?”

“Oh, senior sister Rong,” Nangong Xu purred. “I almost forgot you were here.”

Kneeling and restrained by the curse, Rong Yan glared. “I misjudged you.”

“So what?” Nangong Xu smiled. “You gave me the scented sachet, but you also married my
brother. Was he the one who told you to do that?”

oh my fucking god are we setting up a flashback within a flashback? That’s seriously just
bad writing

Face pale, Rong Yan bit her lip and closed her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks. The blade in
Nangong Xu’s hand glowed coldly.

“Please don’t kill me, Xu,” Nangong Liu begged.

Cleaning the blade, Nangong Xu smirked. “I am the sect leader and you are my prisoner. You
think you can negotiate? What do you think you have to offer?”

“I’ll be your willing slave! Whatever you want! I’ll even give you Rong Yan!”
“Nangong Liu!” Rong Yan snapped, glaring furiously at her husband.

Terrified, Nangong Liu continued to beg. “Just let me go,” he whimpered.

“Oh, come on.” Nangong Xu patted him with the hilt. “You can do better.”

“We – we – Xu,” Nangong Liu sobbed, face wet. “Don’t you remember we promised to be friends
forever?”

Face darkening at the reminder, Nangong Xu raised his blade high. He brought it down swiftly,
stopping as Nangong Liu screamed and Rong Yan shouted sharply at him to stop. The blade came
to a halt, Nangong Xu’s insecurity making him reluctant to murder his brother and sister-in-law.
He kept his face cold with an effort. “You have last words, then?”

------

Without looking at her husband, Rong Yan looked at Nangong Xu with tears running down her
face. "Please," she begged. "Could you at least let me have my child?" Startled, Nangong Xu
slowly looked down at her abdomen; formerly flat, it curved outward slightly. Rong Yan bowed
deeply. "Please," she said. "Spare your nephew's life."

The only emotion Nangong Xu felt was the urge to laugh at the absurdity - he cared less than
nothing for the unformed lump of flesh. After a moment, it occurred to him that while he couldn't
pass the curse to Nangong Liu, having taken it from the heir to begin with, he could give it to the
unborn child instead. A son should pay his father's debts, Nangong Xu thought, and he smiled
brightly. Before his brother or sister-in-law could react, he walked out of the cell, laughing loudly.

Both husband and wife were placed under house arrest to await the birth of the child, so that it
could be designated as heir and a blood contract formed. He thought himself quite clever, but he
did not see the child born. After ascending to the position of Sect Leader, Nangong Xu committed
many atrocities and generated ill will both inside and outside the sect. As revenge for one of the
incidents, a city lord secretly released Luo Fenghua and Nangong Liu.

Knowing nothing of secret motivations, Luo Fenghua assumed that Nangong Xu had acted out of
pride and ambition. He listened to Nangong Liu's manipulative lies, and allied with him to remove
Nangong Xu as Sect Leader. The civil war claimed many casualties, and when it had ended, Luo
Fenghua found Nangong Xu. The full moon shone down, inflicting terrible pain and wounds, and
Luo Fenghua thought Nangong Xu had been injured during the fighting and felt sympathy for his
beloved disciple.

"You came," Nangong Xu said. "You always were on his side, though."

"You went too far," Luo Fenghua said. "You killed Grandmaster Tian Chan. And Taoist Master
Lin."

"They deserved to die."

"And your father?"

"He asked for it," Nangong Xu said. "He accused me of theft."

"How did it get so bad?" Luo Fenghua asked, eyes closed.

"So I'm the one who should always suck it up?" Nangong Xu demanded. "No one should be held
accountable for fucking me over?"
Tears streamed down Luo Fenghua's face as he walked up to Nangong Xu. "You," he started.

"What do you have to cry about?" Nangong Xu snapped viciously. "Kill me if you want, but don't
pretend you're upset. That piece of trash was always more important to you than I was."

Instead of answering, Luo Fenghua began to chant a forbidden spell. "You and I are no longer
teacher and disciple," he said, and Nangong Xu felt deep pain in his heart.

"Whatever," he said. "I never thought of you as my teacher anyway."

Before Luo Fenghua could respond, the clatter of the approaching army gave rise to soldiers with
flashing swords and Nangong Liu. "Sir!" His heart skipped a beat at the sight of his brother and
teacher talking. "Teacher, he lied to you!"

With a bitter laugh, Nangong Xu reflected that his brother was still acting like a child, explaining
himself to the nearest authority figure to receive absolution for his sins. He knew that he had to
take responsibility for his own actions, and that it wasn't on Luo Fenghua to forgive either one of
them. He held his tongue and heaved himself to his feet.

Moonlight split Nangong Xu's flesh open inch by inch, and the surrounding cultivators flinched
backwards. Some of them assumed Luo Fenghua had cast the curse, and looked sideways at him,
muttering. Nangong Xu grinned like a shark, showing his sharp white teeth, and stared at his
younger brother. "Get rid of them," he said to Luo Fenghua. "I have something to tell you alone."

Moving deeper into the woods, he found a dark clearing. Once the moonlight was no longer
touching his skin, he relaxed a little. The wounds began to heal, the blood slowing. Luo Fenghua
followed silently.

"Aren't you afraid I mean to kill you?" Nangong Xu asked idly.

"No. You would have done it long before now, if you wanted to."

"Don't presume to know me!" Nangong Xu snapped, rounding on his former teacher.

"Your wounds are healing," Luo Fenghua said, startled.

Nangong Xu scoffed. "What did you think it was? Lingzhi?" He raised his hand, showing the
glowing ring of sect leadership. "This ring is cursed. It fell from my palm as I fled, knowing that I
was no longer the sect leader, but it doesn't know which heir to recognize."

"You should return it to Liu," Luo Fenghua said.

"I thought so, too," Nangong Xu said, grinning. He put the ring in Luo Fenghua's hand. "I want
you to give this to my brother. Slide it onto his hand yourself, since he's the true heir." At the
pained expression on Luo Fenghua's face, he smirked. "And now, a secret."

In a low voice, Nangong Xu told the story of the curse garnered when Nangong Changying had
defeated the demon. Telling the story maliciously and giving knowledge of the curse to Luo
Fenghua, Nangong Xu saw the realization slowly come over his former teacher's face. He felt
overjoyed, knowing that his former teacher could do nothing but deliver the poison to his friend. A
snake-like smile split his face.

"Give it to him," he said gleefully.

Covered in blood, Nangong Xu fled. He made his way to Butterfly Town, where he met a little girl
sitting in a yard staring at her neighbor's orange tree. To him, she looked and sounded so much like
his teacher that he felt vicious hatred well up in his heart. He ruined the tree and force-fed her the
fruit, leaving her crying, and killed several of the villagers.

The less gentlemanly he acted, the better Nangong Xu felt. He planned to hide his identity and live
his remaining life, but he heard that Luo Fenghua had usurped the position of sect leader. His
former teacher's reputation plummeted in the eyes of the populace, according to the conversation
around him, but Nangong Xu only felt stunned. He hadn't expected his former teacher to make such
a move, to suffer the vicious condemnation of thousands rather than inflict such suffering on his
favorite disciple.

so much of this bullshit could have been averted if they had actually told each other about the
fucking curse, but then there would be Less Angst for the Dramatic Reveal here of How
Tragic It All Really Was, and just. no. it is not A Moving Tragedy, it is mindblowingly dumb
shit that did not need to happen.

The sound of footsteps receded, and Nangong Xu roused himself from his reminiscence. He
looked up to see the face of a young man. Mo Ran knelt in front of him, and Nangong Xu thought
his eyes held too many hidden aspects to belong to a man in his early twenties. The question
proved it.

"Do you plan to revive Nangong Liu?" Mo Ran asked.

“None of your business.”

"Revive Luo Fenghua instead," Mo Ran said. "Then no one will be left on Mount Jiao, and you'll
be able to remain here peacefully."

"Stay out of it!"

Picking up the broken spirit core, Mo Ran saw qi still glowing inside. "You disguised yourself and
returned to your brother as Xu Shuanglin," he said. "You incited him to retake sect leadership,
because you didn't want Luo Fenghua to suffer."

"You have no right to judge my intentions," Nangong Xu hissed, bloodshot eyes shining. "You
understand nothing."

"I don't," Mo Ran agreed. "I can only guess. But I think I'm probably right."

"So arrogant," Nangong Xu said.

"You thought you knew everything, too, when you were twenty," Mo Ran returned. "You didn't
think your brother would be so ruthless even after his position was usurped twice." He stared at
Nangong Xu's face. "You were confused and you didn't know what to do when he killed your
beloved teacher." He knew that feeling better than anyone else; interpreting Nangong Xu's heart
was as simple as knowing his own. "In your despair, what will you do?"

------

Looking at Nangong Xu where he lay curled up on the ground, Mo Ran spoke softly. "You didn't
expect Nangong Liu to be vicious enough to kill Luo Fenghua," he said. "You didn't expect him to
throw Luo Fenghua's body into the blood pool and curse him to the eighteenth level of hell."

"Has he lost his mind?" Xue Meng asked. "Why would he do that?"
"A soul in purgatory can't be reborn," Mo Ran said, with pity in his eyes. "Luo Fenghua can only
come back through resurrection. Then he could live in the just world Nangong Xu created."

"Grandmaster Mo," said Nangong Xu after a moment. He chuckled. "I've only realized today that
you are a madman." He paused, a lopsided smile on his ruined face. "Because you understand me,
and only a madman could do that." He burst into laughter.

Closing his eyes, Mo Ran also spoke softly. "Nangong Xu, listen carefully. There are people who
can help resurrect Luo Fenghua. I will plead with them to help you." He handed the broken
spiritual core back to Nangong Xu. "But please tell me." He paused, looking like nothing so much
as a drowning man trying to catch a blade of grass to save himself. "Who has been helping you?
Who taughtyou this technique? Who taught you how to play chess?"

Mo Ran again remembered the Nangong Xu of his previous life, then known as Xu Shuanglin,
who had died to save Ye Wangxi. He had had a specific plan then, but in this life, everything had
changed. It wasn't the type of plan, Mo Ran thought, that he would have developed on his own.

"Do you really want to know?" Nangong Xu asked maliciously. "You're right, there was someone,
but I don't want to tell you who."

"Would you rather die and be a chess piece?"

"You're overthinking it," Nangong Xu said. "He understands me and my feelings. He wouldn't do
that to me." He smiled confidently. "The world will fall into chaos and he'll destroy everyone
wicked and reward the good. Those who had been unjustly raised above others will be slaves."

"What utter nonsense!" Xue Meng snarled. He glanced at Chu Wanning and lowered his voice.
"You saw what he did to Nangong Si." He frowned. "Did he deserve to die?"

"Sacrifices must be made for the greater good," Nangong Xu said. "You're still young. You'll
understand." He looked away, as if Xue Meng's temper was exhausting, and looked back to Mo
Ran. "If he ends up in your hands, I don't care what you do to him," he added. "I even have a
lingchi fruit I'll give you. Besides, I was fucked over when I was twenty. I'm not letting my chance
slip by again."

"You're shameless, to spit such lies," Huang Xiaoyue said, but Mo Ran understood what he meant.
The lingchi fruit was a metaphor for what had ailed his soul, after he had followed his sect's
directives to a fault and still been mocked, ridiculed, and cast down.

"Luo Fenghua's spiritual core is still here," Mo Ran couldn't help saying. "You might be able to
resurrect him."

"Again?" Nangong Xu smiled, looking at the spirit core in his decaying hand. "I'm dying, and then
there will be no justice. So what's the use? You big sects will still mistreat him." His expression
darkened, and he crushed the spirit core with his bare hands. Blood welled up where his skin had
been cut.

"Are you crazy?" Xue Meng demanded, while Mo Ran could only stare in shock. Many of the
other cultivators present were just as dumbstruck, and all were horrified. Nangong Xu ignored
them all, looking at the last remnant of Luo Fenghua, and ground it into ashes. He started cackling
maniacally, face covered in bloody tears, and slowly got up. He staggered to the front of the array,
reaching for one of the holy weapons.

The backlash from the failing Zhenlong chess formation was getting worse, and as Nangong Xu
strummed the holy weapon with his ruined fingers, they started to catch fire. His entire body
burned, but he kept playing. His flesh crisped and shrunk, the flames reaching to the heavens, and
he sang calmly from inside the fire. His hoarse voice lifted, singing Luo Fenghua's song, and many
of the older cultivators remembered him from his participation in the Spiritual Mountain
Competition.

He had walked out from the corridor, carrying his sword, hands marked by the calluses of long
practice. He had been young, handsome, and arrogant with it. He had grinned at the judges,
supremely confident. Eyes full of his brilliant future, he had spoken. "Rufeng Sect's Nangong Xu. I
hope to receive your generous advice."

how. many. flashbacks. this is not serving to create an emotional connection with the
character, it is killing the momentum over and over and over again oh my fucking god

In the end, Nangong Xu had failed. Here and now, he still failed. Only the five masterless holy
weapons remained on the soul summoning platform, feeding energy into the rebirth array still
spinning lazily in the air. Xue Zhengyong blinked, looking around. "Is it over?" he asked.

"I hope all of the world's grudges fall to dust," said Xuan Jing, with a long sigh.

Xue Meng rolled his eyes at the commentary from a cultivator who had made very little effort
during the entire affair. He turned to his father instead. "Are we going down the mountain?" he
asked. "We still don't know who he was working with."

"Get back!" Jiang Xi shouted suddenly, and pointed. The gathered army followed his finger and
saw that instead of fading away, the array had expanded abruptly. Strands of twisted black qi
spilled out.

"Why is it still here?" Xue Meng blurted out in surprise. "Nangong Xu is dead."

"It wasn't a rebirth or a corpse soul array!" Jiang Xi said. "We were all wrong!"

"Then what is it?" Xue Meng asked.

"It doesn't matter what it is," Jiang Xi snapped. "What's important is that we not let it fully
actualize."

The least talkative of their experts, Chu Wanning, was the quickest to react; he aimed a shot
straight for the heart of the enchantment. Another weapon lanced out of the crowd, a dark green
shadow disgorging a dagger aimed right for Chu Wanning's back as if to stop him from disrupting
the array. "Sir!" Xue Meng shouted, quickly followed by Shi Mei, but they were too far away to
stop the flying knife.

The distinctive sound of a blade piercing flesh echoed across the platform, and Xue Meng closed
his eyes. When he opened them and turned his ashen face toward his teacher, he was stunned.

------

The dagger had sunk to its silver snake-patterned hilt in Mo Ran's shoulder. A red stain spread
outward, and he gritted his teeth, but Chu Wanning was unhurt. Ruthlessness flashed in his eyes, as
if a falcon were pouncing on a rabbit, and he held Hua Binan's hand rightly in his grasp.

The Cold Scale Sacred Hand was still touching his dagger, and Mo Ran did not let him go as he
pulled the blade from his flesh. "You thought you were going to attack my teacher from behind?"
"How long have you suspected me, Grandmaster Mo?" Hua Binan asked.

"From the moment you left the poisoned disciples on the mountainside," Mo Ran said.

"Ah," said Hua Binan. "As I had hoped to generate more casualties, that was rather inevitable."

"Why did you stop Nangong Xu?"

"He would have realized that the array was fake," Hua Binan said. "How troublesome."

As they spoke, Chu Wanning aimed Heavenly Questions for the heart of the mysterious array. As
soon as he made contact, he realized that its qi was too strong to be easily contained. He glanced
behind him, only then noticing that Mo Ran had been injured. He cried out. "Mo Ran!"

"Destroy the formation," Mo Ran ordered. "That's what's important."

Having to agree that Mo Ran was right, Chu Wanning turned his attention to the twisted qi in the
array. He had never encountered quite that type of energy before, and it was stronger than the
Heavenly Rift he had died to stop. He could hold it in place, but he had no hope of dispersing it.

On his other side, Jiang Xi understood what had happened, and was horrified that his highest-
ranking disciple had turned out to be a traitor. "Hua Binan," he said.

A faint smile crossed Hua Binan's face, but he didn't turn around. "Don't act rashly, Sect Leader.
As you have taught us, I have prepared for every contingency. The Heart Drill Worms I have
meticulously fostered for years have found their way into a lot of people."

The horror of having been implanted with insects against their will unleashed a chorus of screams
from the gathered cultivators. None of them had felt any symptoms until he had spoken, and then
all of them felt their skin crawl. The screams were followed by imprecations and denouncements,
pleas to remove the insects, and desperate screams for Hua Binan to tell them where the bugs were.

One cultivator shouted angrily that he didn't think he had any insects implanted in him and it was a
bluff, and Hua Binan simply waved a hand. The cultivator collapsed, eyes and nose gushing blood
and other fluids. He leaked out of every orifice until he stopped moving, skin deflating. His mouth
remained open, and a single insect shaped like a spider but with ten legs to either side crawled out.
The army froze in panic, and all the gathered cultivators turned wide eyes on Hua Binan.

"They're small but deadly," Hua Binan said lightly. "If you don't want that to happen to you, stay
where you are and do what I say. Especially those of you from Lonemoon Night." His gaze landed
on Jiang Xi and the medical sect cultivators in their light green robes. “Of course I would never
harm members of my own sect.”

“Hua Binan,” Jiang Xi said, face ashen. “You have such wild ambition?”

“You have no idea,” Hua Binan laughed. “By the way, sect leader, there’s one in you, too.”

“Lonemoon Night has not treated you unfairly these past ten years,” Jiang Xi said coldly. “What do
you intend by this?”

“Of course, I have my reasons.” Hua Binan glanced at Chu Wanning and Mo Ran. “I don’t have to
tell you what they are. Or who has a worm and who doesn’t. But you can figure it out if you’re
clever enough.”

A gentle, cold voice spoke from the midst of the crowd. “The insect can be exposed by fire,” said
Shi Mei. “If you ignite a fire incantation in your hands, and see a bulge under your skin, you’re
infested.”

“Were you reading my scripture in secret, Shi Mingjing?” asked Hua Binan playfully.

Blushing, Shi Mei stiffened. “While my teacher was in seclusion, I fostered at Lonemoon Night,”
he said. “I didn’t read your scriptures, sir, but I did find out that this type of parasite existed, and I
did some research.”

“You stole my writings!” Hua Binan accused.

“So what?” Xue Meng glared, defending his teammate. He ignited a fire talisman, seeing no
evidence of infestation. “Oh, look, I’m clean.” The rest of the army followed suit, divided
afterward into two distinct groups. One joyfully pronounced their lack of infestation, while the
other started to panic.

“Even if you know who does and doesn’t have a parasite, it doesn’t matter. Those who know
they’re infected? Do what I tell you. Help me defeat Chu Wanning and Mo Weiyu, or that will be
your fate.” He pointed dramatically at the most recently dead cultivator.

It didn’t take long for the first cultivator to join Hua Binan. From Lonemoon Night, she stood at
his side with an arrogant expression. Mo Ran was surprised she had the gall to look so proud of her
treachery. She looked out at the army. “I’m sorry, Sect Leader,” she said. “I want to protect myself,
but I’ve also always admired Sacred Hand. He is the reason I sought to learn from Lonemoon
Night.”

Again we see that women are either villainous, ineffective, or suffer gratuitously.

With a glance at Hua Binan’s face, the treacherous cultivator saw him smile. She looked out at her
sectmates, but only three more switched sides. The rest of the sect glared at them, scowling. Those
who joined said much the same words as the first cultivator, incurring the ire of the rest of the sect.

“We’ve given up on this broken sect,” the first cultivator said, and Jiang Xi ignored her entirely.

With a flick of his sleeve, a gust of fragrant wind blew – the first blow Jiang Xi struck against Hua
Binan. The Cold Scale Sacred Hand lost patience entirely, not wanting to waste time dealing with
Jiang Xi when Mo Ran was right in front of him. He activated the Heart Drill Worms, pain and
disbelief rippling through the affected cultivators.

One was Jiang Xi, but he was able to suppress the parasite with a few acupoints. Hua Binan turned
to his small group of traitors. “Kill them,” he said. Some of the afflicted rushed for Hua Binan,
begging him to accept them and stop the pain. With a faint smile, Hua Binan glanced toward Mo
Ran. “Looks like the strongest is still the medical sect,” he said silkily.

“How could you sully those words,” Jiang Xi said, pulling his holy weapon out. He turned to Mo
Ran. “Help your teacher. I’ll take care of him.”

“Plan on setting yourself against me?” Hua Binan said.

“Cut the crap.”

“You’re infected with a terminal parasite and you still want to fight? Sect Leader Jiang, you must
have a death wish.”

“If I don’t kill you, you’re going to destroy our reputation,” Jiang Xi said fiercely, and the battle
was joined.

Mo Ran turned toward Chu Wanning, feeling that Jiang Xi had matters well in hand. Before he got
there, several shadows rushed towards them. He identified Huang Xiaoyue and his high-ranking
disciples. “What now?”

“This parasite is no laughing matter, Grandmaster Mo,” Huang Xiaoyue said, flicking his sleeves.

Other cultivators who wished to be spared an ignominious death had joined him, and the situation
atop the soul summoning platform devolved into chaos. Those who were infected fought those
who weren’t, brother against brother. Jiang Xi and Hua Binan were in the thick of it, and Mo Ran
formed the last line of defense in front of Chu Wanning.

who is over there being useless, I might add

In the midst of the chaos, Shi Mei singled out cultivators infected with the parasite and tried to
remove the curse. As his fellow cultivators writhed in pain and begged for death, Shi Mei offered
compassion and tried to assess each one. His current patient was unable to follow his directions,
forcing Shi Mei to hold him down for inspection. Shi Mei nodded, chanting an incantation as he
stared into his patient’s eyes, and the young cultivator felt the overwhelming urge to vomit. He
rolled to the side and threw up a puddle of pungent goo around a convulsing insect.

The parasite crumbled into dust as Shi Mei pointed at it. He gave a satisfied smile and stood,
raising his voice. “The eye healing technique will remove the parasite! I can perform it on each of
you, one by one!”

However, as much as he tried to break up the fighting, no one listened. Shi Mei wasn’t assertive
enough for his fellow cultivators to listen, and he was able to heal very few. Jiang Xi heard him,
his curiosity piqued; he was aware that many poisonous insects could be drawn out of the body
with the appropriate technique, like moths to flame.

Hua Binan also heard Shi Mei try to spread the cure, and he cursed. “I killed all of the Lonemoon
cultivators who knew that technique,” he said. “I didn’t think someone at Sisheng Peak had learned
it.” He pressed Jiang Xi harder. “Truly, this young generation is mighty.” Retreating like a bat,
Hua Binan leapt for the center of the battlefield.

“This is bad,” Jiang Xi called, but he couldn’t keep up with Hua Binan; he was expending too
much energy suppressing the parasite, and Shi Mei was occupied with a cultivator from Taxue
Palace.

The Taxue Palace cultivator stood, once he had spat out the worm, and called loudly. “Stop fucking
fighting! There’s a cure!”

The most successful source of patients for Shi Mei was Xue Meng; he brooked no opposition and
simply dragged one cultivator after another to deposit in front of his teammate. “I’ll let go when
you stop fucking struggling,” he said. “Who’s the badass here? That’s right, it’s my little brother!”
He glanced toward Shi Mei, and his eyes widened. “Shi Mei! Behind you!”

------

Xue Meng tried to save his teammate, but it was too late. Hua Binan descended like a demon from
hell, grabbing Shi Mei’s neck from behind. By the time the rest of the army heard the commotion
and looked up, they were already high above the ground. Xue Meng leapt on his sword to chase
them, but Hua Binan’s killer bee chased him back, and Hua Binan slowly caressed Shi Mei’s
throat.

A thorn erupted out of the serpent ring on Hua Binan’s slender finger. “It’s extremely difficult to
cultivate eye-based healing,” Hua Binan said. “To be so skilled so young and not even a member of
Lonemoon Night, you must be talented.”

A bloody red light swept out, knocking a few unlucky cultivators right off the platform and forcing
the rest to retreat. “Hua Binan! Let him go!”

“Help our teacher,” Shi Mei said softly. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Shi Mei!” Chu Wanning’s face had paled to the color of paper as he fought against the array. His
hands trembled, veins popping out.

Shi Mei gazed on him with sadness. “Sir.”

“Oh, look, did I get Grandmaster Chu’s disciple?” Hua Binan said. “No wonder he’s so skilled.”

“Hua Binan, if you hurt him, I will make you pay.”

“In other words, he’s choosing the array over you,” Hua Binan whispered in Shi Mei’s ear. Shi Mei
closed his eyes, trembling, but remained silent. “I’m so sorry that your teacher thinks so little of
you,” Hua Binan said, laughing. “He values his reputation more than you. What a joke.”

“Sir, I’m sorry,” Shi Mei said, opening his eyes. “As you will recall, I have been selfish in the past
and I am not worthy to be your disciple. I have had difficulty with the idea of sacrificing my life for
justice.”

“Shi Mei.” Xue Meng couldn’t help but remember the night that Chu Wanning had died, when
their guilt had driven them to seek his soul in the underworld. Mo Ran remembered the bowl of
wontons and the apologetic bow when Shi Mei had admitted that their teacher had made them. Chu
Wanning thought of Shi Mei’s quest for a holy weapon, not expecting that his student would be
even more flawed.

A gentle, perfect, and obedient person, Shi Mei had been like the winter’s new snow. Any flaw at
all was all the more glaring for his purity. No matter how occasional, any instance of selfishness
was all the more memorable. And yet, Shi Mei was still human – even if no one really knew him.

Xue Meng didn’t care; Shi Mei was his friend, who should be with him always. Mo Ran felt that
Shi Mei was to be admired for his wonderful qualities. But for the first time, Chu Wanning and his
disciples realized that Shi Mei had symbolized something different for each of them, and he had
never been able to truly be himself.

“Any last word?” Hua Binan sneered. All three cultivators clamored for him to let Shi Mei go. “I’m
not going to hurt him,” Hua Binan said. “You’re going to surrender.”

The vast array flickered from light to dark, and it was clearly at a critical point. It would need to be
either triggered or sealed, but Chu Wanning could do neither. There wasn’t enough time to think,
and every instant he hesitated made it harder on his disciple. As he stood, frozen, Shi Mei spoke.

“I don’t actually like candied fruits,” he said. Hua Binan stared at him, nonplussed, but Shi Mei
just looked at his teammates and smiled. “I don’t like them, but Young Master Xue, you always
shared them with me. Sir, I wanted to cultivate the spirit formation techniques, but you didn’t think
I had the talent for it. And Mo Ran, I know what you were going to say to me on that day.” He
smiled gently. “But our teacher came back, so you didn’t say it. When I saw the two of you in the
restaurant, I knew you never would.” He sighed. “I’m jealous of you, you know.”

“I didn’t think you hated them!” Xue Meng cried. “Why didn’t you say something? Shi Mei!”

Impatient with the meandering progression of Shi Mei’s emotional revelations, Hua Binan grabbed
his neck and stared at Chu Wanning. “I will count to three. If you don’t stop, he dies.”

“No!” Xue Meng cried. “Sir, please stop! We can’t let Shi Mei die!”

“One,” Hua Binan said.

Chu Wanning’s hands were trembling so hard that it was visible to the entire army. He looked at
Shi Mei, eyes filling with tears. He did not move.

“Two,” Hua Binan said.

Blood fountained across the platform. Xue Meng and Mo Ran screamed for Chu Wanning. “No
need to count to three,” Shi Mei said, hand covering his eyes. Blood dripped from them, running
down his cheeks like tears. He had pulled the thorn at his neck across his eyes instead.

The sound of his teammates calling Shi Mei’s name split the skies. Chu Wanning staggered,
shocked and at the end of his strength. The backlash of the formation knocked him clear of it, and
he coughed out a mouthful of blood. He started pouring energy into it anew, and Hu Binan started
cackling gleefully.

“I didn’t expect you to do that,” he said.

“What are you trying to do?” Xue Meng demanded.

Instead of looking at him, Hua Binan turned his attention to the array and smiled. “This array is
nearly complete,” he said. “The lives of so many people. It’s the first time I’ve completed it.”

Sword lowered, Hua Binan dragged Shi Mei toward the platform. He disappeared down the
corridor and a deafening noise came from the sky. The formation spread like ink on paper,
covering even the moon in shadow. The army began exclaiming in fear, trying to guess what it
was, but no one knew. They looked up in alarm at the pitch-back opening in the sky, and rapid
vibrations started to emanate from its depths. As Mo Ran put himself between the array and the
army, a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky.

Xue Meng ran for the array, trying to provide backup to Mo Ran and Chu Wanning, but Xue
Zhengyong dragged him back. “Stop enacting a death wish,” he snapped.

“Dad, I need to help my friends!” Xue Meng cried. “I’m not going to hide behind you like a child!”

Green smoke and lightning poured out of the array, followed by a rolling cloud comprised of a
horde of black-masked cultivators. The man in the lead was luxuriously dressed, with a hideous
silver-gray mask hiding his face. He stood arrogantly and confidently in front of the massed
cultivators, silently radiating death.

Nearly a thousand cultivators had poured out of the gap before Xue Zhengyong found his tongue.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked. “Identify yourself!”

“Answer us!” Xue Meng shouted, but the masked man simply rolled his eyes.

With one hand raised to the sky, he said a single word. “Kill.”
------

The black-clad cultivators swept down toward the heavily injured army below. Mo Ran had
already recognized them as chess pieces, of far more skillful construction than Nangong Xu’s poor
imitations. He turned to the army. “Run!” he warned. “We can’t beat them!”

Holding tightly to Chu Wanning’s wrist, Mo Ran grabbed at Jiang Xi and tried to chivvy the army
out of range of the chess pieces. The first chess piece to swing his sword lent credence to his
words, and the panicked army rushed toward the corridor. The first to reach the stone door of the
passageway was Ma Yun, but he stopped as soon as he reached it. “The door is closed!” he called,
sliding to his knees. “Hua Binan closed it.”

Realization that only the blood of the Nangong family could open the door spread through the
army, along with the following realization that Nangong Liu was still inside and unaware. Huang
Xiaoyue pushed his way forward, shouting that he could open the door, as several cultivators in the
rear turned to face the army of chess pieces.

“Leader Huang,” said Ma Yun. “You’re not part of the Nangong family.”

The bloody handkerchief, ensorcelled to prevent the blood from drying, was still in Huang
Xiaoyue’s sleeves. He pushed it down on the lock. The voice from the tunnel floated out. “Who
are you?”

“Nangong Si, seventh generation of Rufeng Sect, pays his respects.”

The door slid open and the disciples of Jiangdong Hall poured into the corridor. The rest of the
army followed, but before Ma Yun could exit the other side, Huang Xioayue held him back with a
bared blade. “We weren’t friends to begin with,” he said. “And I’m going to take this chance to get
rid of one of my enemies.”

“Stop screwing around!” Ma Yun babbled, panicked. “Look, whatever it is, we can work it out!
I’ll discount my merchandise for you! Whatever you want!”

“Oh, please,” Huang Xiaoyue said, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to take the treasure from Rufeng
Sect and then who gives a shit what you charge me?” He pushed Ma Yun away and triggered the
seal to close the door.

Sealed inside a dark tunnel, hesitation and fear spread. “I don’t want to die,” someone said, and
someone else sobbed aloud. Ma Yun trembled, taking a deep breath, but before he could speak,
someone interrupted.

“I’ll do it,” said Mo Ran, lighting a flame in the darkness.

“You have Nangong Si’s blood?” Ma Yun said doubtfully.

The chess pieces wouldn’t take long to find their way into the tunnel, Mo Ran knew. He only had a
single choice, one that he had been dreading during the entire mission. There was no way out. He
sliced his palm, just in time for Xue Meng to arrive with Chu Wanning and Xue Zhengyong in tow.

“What are you doing, Ran?” Xue Zhengyong asked.

Bleeding hand trembling, Mo Ran slapped his palm on the rock. He closed his eyes. The dragon’s
voice rang out, asking him to identify himself. Mo Ran’s throat moved. “Rufeng Sect,” he said.
“Seventh generation. Blood Origin Sect relative.”
“Uh, what,” Xue Meng said, taking a step back.

Eyes wide, Xue Zhengyong stared. “How is this possible?” he muttered.

The dragon recognized him, and Xue Zhengyong was stunned into silence. Chu Wanning stared as
the door sank back into the ground. The light of the pool rushed into the darkness, and Xue Meng
charged forward. “What fuckery is this, Mo Ran? How are you related to the Nangong family?”

“Let’s get out of here first,” Mo Ran said. “I’ll explain later.”

“Mo Ran!”

For a second, Mo Ran tilted his head as if he would answer, but he walked rapidly forward instead.
HE disappeared at the end of the corridor, and finally the army found the will to follow him. They
rushed forward, Mo Ran far ahead of them. He picked up Ye Wangxi from the ground beside the
pool, and carried her away.

Mo Ran had been the one to jump into the pool. He hadn’t known if it would work, but he knew
that he had lived two lifetimes and Nangong Si only twenty years. It wasn’t fair for Nangong Si to
have to die, and yet he had still wanted to live. He flinched as screams started behind him, and he
turned to see that the chess pieces had somehow gotten into the corridor.

the army does nothing but run around screaming and die, honestly, utterly fucking useless
except to try to inject some Drama into this sad-assed attempt at bringing the narrative
tension back

Face pale, Mo Ran thought about the possibility that one of the chess pieces belonged to the
Nangong Family, and thought about the gate of life and death. A strong chill spread across his
body. He had a horrible thought as to who the masked man could be, and shook his head to
disperse it.

Mei Hanxue retreated to Mo Ran’s side, and took Ye Wangxi. With a crazed look, Mo Ran dashed
toward the chess pieces. Xue Meng and Xue Zhengyong called after him, but he ignored them
both. Chu Wanning grabbed his arm, and Mo Ran skidded to a halt. “Sir,” he said.

“You can’t go,” Chu Wanning said. “I’ll handle this. You should evacuate the army, since you can
open the doors.”

Before Mo Ran could refuse, the masked man calmly exited the passageway. The chess pieces
followed, and Mo Ran had no other choice. He could only retreat. Xue Meng had to be dragged by
his father, and only Chu Wanning remained in the Dragon Soul Pool Hall.

The pool boiled, sending shifting orange light across the walls and over Chu Wanning’s robes.
Heavenly Questions glistened in his hands as he glared at the mysterious masked man. He felt the
other cultivator’s eyes on him, though the heavy veil, as he stood silently. After a long moment, he
stalked forward. No one else moved.

“Who are you?” Chu Wanning asked sternly.

“It has been many years since we met,” the masked man said, radiating a strange aura through the
veiled eyes that Chu Wanning couldn’t see. “I didn’t expect that you’d be so cranky.”

“I don’t know you,” Chu Wanning said.

“Oh, you don’t?” The man chuckled. “You always were a heartless bastard.” He moved forward
again, and Chu Wanning refused to retreat. The masked man stopped a hair’s-breadth from him,
and Chu Wanning raised his palm to strike. The masked man easily grabbed his wrist. “I have seen
you do this many times,” he said. “But you seem to have forgotten.”

Goosebumps prickled over Chu Wanning’s skin as he felt the man’s palpable wave of lust. He
didn’t fear strength, but the man in front of him made him uneasy. “Who are you?” he asked again.

“Shall I remind you?” The masked man was holding Chu Wanning too tightly for him to break
free.

“You first taught me this when I was sixteen,” he said. “That it seems simple, but that it’s difficult
to learn.” Chu Wanning looked at him in disbelief, and the man smiled with his eyes. “You used
this when we fought, too, and hurt me badly.” He pressed Chu Wanning’s hand against his heart,
where there was no heartbeat.

“Who are you?” Chu Wanning repeated.

“Patience,” said the man. He leaned closer. “Then you used this trick in my bed. I wanted to fuck
you, but you didn’t want it.” He slid Chu Wanning’s hand down his chest to his groin, and Chu
Wanning flinched as if stung by a scorpion. Something about the man was familiar, but he couldn’t
place it. “What do you think we should do? I was just going to kill you, but you seem different.
And I’m interested.” He glanced down. “Of course, I’m also interested.”

“Let go of me, you pervert!” Chu Wanning flushed dark red, but he still couldn’t break free. The
masked man crushed him in a domineering embrace. Chu Wanning could feel the hardness
between his legs. “I’ll kill you!” he raged.

Apparently amused, the man smiled and let go. Chu Wanning’s gorge rose, and he struck to kill.
The masked man retreated, cloak fluttering, and he landed lightly. His mask was split in two,
falling to the ground, and he kept his face hidden in his hood. After a moment of silence, he sighed.
“You always did have a temper,” he said. “But, Grandmaster Chu.”

A pitch-black wind shrieked from behind Chu Wanning and the masked man caught it in his hand.
Stunned, Chu Wanning saw a holy weapon. It was the same blade that had appeared at the
Xuanyuan Pavilion, the blade that Nangong Xu had used to create the array. The masked man
rubbed his hands together.

“You really think you’re going to kill me?” He raised his head and lowered his hood.

Chu Wanning felt as if he had been doused in a bucket of cold water, chilled to the bone. The
man’s handsome face twisted in an evil smile. “The Evil Overlord,” he said. “Mo Ran. Mo
Weiyu.” He unsheathed No Return, its light illuminating his dark eyes. “Please enlighten me, sir.”

------

The majority of the army had made it to the foot of the mountain. Those from Jiangdong Hall had
disappeared, but the rest of the army could make it no further. Many of them had exhausted so
much energy they collapsed to the ground. Jiang Xi glared at them.

“We can’t stop without investigating that mysterious person,” he said.

“We don’t have the energy,” Ma Yun objected.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Xuan Jing chimed in. “Palace Master Ma is correct. We’re not in any state to
mount a resistance.”
they haven’t done SHIT, ok, except run up and down the mountain precisely one – 1 – time

Pursing his lips, Jiang Xi glared, and then turned his attention to Sisheng Peak. Xue Zhengyong
and Xue Meng both watched the road intently, waiting for Mo Ran to emerge from the thick dust
cloud. As soon as he did, he looked at the crowd. “It’s Zhenlong Chess,” he said. “And maybe the
Gate of Time and Death. Which means you’d all better run.” He paused. “Sect Leader Jiang,
perhaps Linling Island, protected by the Black Tortoise Foundation, could be troubled to offer
sanctuary, as well as cure those infected with the parasite.”

“And you?” Jiang Xi asked.

“My teacher is still up there,” Mo Ran said. “I’ll hold here until you go, then return to help him.
We’ll meet at your sect.”

After a long moment, Jiang Xi bowed to Mo Ran. “Cultivators, we’re headed to Linling. Move
out!” He glanced at Mo Ran. “We’ll take particular care of Miss Ye,” he added, and Mo Ran
relaxed.

For as long as it took for the exhausted, wounded army to decamp, no one emerged from the
mountain. Mo Ran paced, staring at the road, and Xue Zhengyong mirrored him. After a long
moment, his uncle spoke hesitantly. “Ran, what’s going on?”

“It’s a long story,” Mo Ran said, forcing a smile. “Uncle, please take Xue Meng to safety. I’ll tell
you everything when this is over.”

“I want to hear it now,” Xue Meng protested. “You – how could you be part of Rufeng Sect?” His
mouth worked soundlessly, and he finally, miserably, brought out, “You’re still my brother, right?”

Staring, Mo Ran saw that Xue Meng was trembling. He was trying to control himself, but sorrow
was clearly written over his face. Pain pricked Mo Ran’s heart and he didn’t know how to answer.
Finally, he patted Xue Meng on the shoulder. “And you didn’t even want to recognize me when I
first arrived at Sisheng Peak,” he said, with a bitter smile.

“So is that a no?” Xue Meng said, trying and failing to sound casual. His white-knuckled grip on
his sword belied his tone. He had seen Nangong Si sacrifice himself to a dragon, seen his
teammate’s eyes ruined, and seen Mo Ran demonstrate that he was a blood relative of the Nangong
Family. He felt as though he were drowning.

“I promise to give you an answer,” Mo Ran said, holding Xue Meng’s shoulder tightly, and looked
his teammate in the eyes. “I have never been a member of Rufeng Sect,” he said. “I have never
done anything to harm Sisheng Peak, and I will serve it for the rest of my life.”

Tears streamed down Xue Meng’s face, and he bit his lip. “Shi Mei said that I didn’t know him,
but I don’t know you either. I was selfish and willful, and I didn’t think about either of you but I
love you. We’re going to stay friends, okay, please tell me you don’t hate us.”

Mo Ran gently pushed his teammate to his uncle’s side. “Go with your father, and I’ll come find
you as soon as things are settled here.” He turned to the barrier, and re-activated it without looking
back.

Inside the dragon soul pool hall, the building had been cracked asunder. The stone pillars had been
toppled, and only smoke remained. The Evil Overlord’s sword was at Chu Wanning’s neck, and it
bit deeply enough for blood to seep out. Chu Wanning pursed his lips, eyes closed.

“Sir, you weren’t paying attention to me,” the Evil Overlord said. He pulled Chu Wanning to his
feet and lifted his finger. No Return wafted back, and a binding restriction settled about Chu
Wanning. In its eerie green light, the Evil Overlord gripped Chu Wanning’s chin and raised his
head. “What are you thinking?”

Slowly opening his eyes, Chu Wanning looked at a face that was simultaneously familiar and
strange. A chill ran down his spine, and while he knew it wasn’t Mo Ran, every mannerism was so
similar that it was unreal. He thought suddenly that he had seen the man’s face in his dreams, the
madman who had violated his body.

“Actually, I can guess,” the Evil Overlord said. “You must be wondering who I am and where I
came from, sir.” He caressed Chu Wanning’s cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about it.” His
gaze shifted to Chu Wanning’s hand. “Don’t even think about summoning your other weapons. I’m
not going to fall for those tricks again.”

An ugly expression hushed over Chu Wanning’s face, but he was confused. The Evil Overlord
began to chuckle at the sight of his gloomy eyes. He grinned widely before speaking again.

“What’s wrong?” he said. “Are you wondering why I know about them? I’ve known for years. I
know that the me in this world hasn’t done nearly half of what I had at his age.”

“The you of this world?” Chu Wanning repeated dumbly.

Instead of replying, the Evil Overlord smiled. A chill ran down Chu Wanning’s spine, and he felt
that the person in front of him was a madman. “The gate of life and death,” replied the Evil
Overlord. “You should know this forbidden art, sir, as you’ve been dead for many years in the
other world.” He looked at Chu Wanning’s pale face, noting its waxy quality.

Suddenly, the Evil Overlord grabbed Chu Wanning. His calm state seemed to have dissipated, and
gleefully mad light shone in his eyes. He nodded repeatedly.

“That’s it,” he said. “That’s the face. I used to look at it while you were dead in the Red Lotus
Pavilion, every night. Body rotten but face clean. And now you have your revenge!” He took a
deep breath. “I hate you for leaving me alone,” he said, and embraced Chu Wanning.

It was hot like burning in his arms, and the Evil Overlord wished he could absorb Chu Wanning
into his bones to feel the heat forever. He would never be alone again, he thought. Chu Wanning’s
scalp tingled, vision fading to gray at the edges, and he had no idea what was going on. The door to
the central section opened, and someone hastily walked over, anxiously calling for Chu Wanning.
“Sir?”

In over 400,000 words I have not said this, but the use of third-person omniscient is
incredibly poorly done, and has been the entire time, like, it is Objectively Bad

Hundreds of soldiers stood between Mo Ran and his beloved Chu Wanning. The Evil Overlord
laughed coldly at the sound of Mo Ran’s voice. “It’s you,” he said lazily, and dismissed the chess
pieces with a lazy wave of his hand. “Let him in.”

The worst of Mo Ran’s suspicions had been confirmed when he had run into the hall to see his own
face, and static roared in his ears. Veins popped in his eyes, and he couldn’t breathe from the
horror. No, he thought, it can’t be true.

The man stared at him with a disdainful expression, eyes playful and yet also disdainful. He was
indifferent as he watched Mo Ran from his own face, a ghost from the past and yet older and from
the future. His smile reeked of blood as he held Chu Wanning up in front of him like a kitten. “Oh,
Grandmaster Mo,” he sang. “You’re famous! And now we meet, at the gate of life and death!” He
smirked. “How do you do?”

------

“How could it be you?” Mo Ran asked, shaking his head.

“Of course it’s me.” the Evil Overlord spread his arms. “I thought you wouldn’t remember much
of your previous life after you were reborn, but look at you. You know everything. And you seem
to have guessed it was me.” He smiled, pleased. “You’re not an idiot after all.”

Of all the things Mo Ran wanted to say, the one that finally made its way out of his throat was,
“But you’re dead!”

“Oh?” said the Evil Overlord.

“You took the poison in Wushan Palace! You died and were in a coffin beneath a tree!”

“No, I don’t think so,” the Evil Overlord said, his smile turning bitter. Sharp-eyed, he paced
forward. “I am, in fact dead,” he said. “As this person in front of me can attest.” He spoke slowly
and softly. “But you, good Grandmaster Mo. But tell me about your heroic good deeds, which, I
might add, you did after you woke up here and decided to pretend I never existed.” He laughed.
“Did you think no one would know, as long as you just kept quiet?”

The Evil Overlord grabbed Chu Wanning by the neck, nails digging into his flesh. Chu Wanning
frowned furiously, but as he was hanging like a kitten by the scruff of its neck, he was powerless.
The Evil Overlord’s grip became bruising.

“Did you really think you could just start over? That I would let you reap the fruit of my hard
work?”

“Don’t touch him!” Mo Ran finally said.

“Don’t touch him?” the Evil Overlord cackled. “That’s rich, coming from you.” He held Chu
Wanning in his arms and danced him in an awkward circle, looking at Mo Ran. Past life stared at
present, the Evil Overlord looking upon Grandmaster Mo. “You know exactly how I touched
him,” he crowed. “But you pretend you’re so different.”

“Stop saying that!”

“Why? Does it bother you? Don’t you think you at least owe me a pleasant conversation?”

Mo Ran could only shake his head in anger and helplessness. “Stop talking,” he said.

“You seem afraid,” the Evil Overlord said.

Mo Ran felt a violent surge of emotion at the sight of Chu Wanning in the Evil Overlord’s
embrace, and he wanted nothing more than to stop the demon in front of him. Red fire crackled in
the air as he summoned his heavenly weapon. The Evil Overlord dodged the attack.

“Heavenly Questions?” he said, but he knew before he finished speaking that he was wrong.
“Interesting weapon,” he added, and handed Chu Wanning off to a subordinate. “Let’s fight.”

“Gladly.” Mo Ran lit What The Hell in scarlet flames.

“Fire? I seem to recall we’re better with wood.”

With those words, the two figures collided. A flood dragon encountering a whale, they gave rise to
a wave of force that burst the building apart. They traded blows, neither coming out on top. No
Return pierced Mo Ran’s right shoulder, while What The Hell pierced the Evil Overlord’s left
shoulder. They groaned, separating.

“You’re fighting style is much like his,” the Evil Overlord said.

“Why are you still here?” Mo Ran returned.

They advanced and retreated, neither able to gain an advantage when they knew each other so well.
Both of them panted heavily as they paused again, hovering and sweating. They swung in slow
circles, testing each other’s resolve.

“Why are you here?” Mo Ran asked again.

“My world is gone. I want yours.”

“Over my dead body!” Mo Ran raged.

“That’s the general idea.” the Evil Overlord cackled.

“Like you killed everyone else,” Mo Ran returned.

“You know what he did to me!” the Evil Overlord raged, pointing at Chu Wanning.

“You don’t know the truth!” Mo Ran shot back.

“I don’t need to know,” the Evil Overlord said. “Besides, he’s mine, dead or alive. It doesn’t
matter if he likes me or not.”

Trembling with anger and pain, Mo Ran spoke. “You destroyed him, and now you want to do it
again.”

The Evil Overlord’s beautiful face looked Mo Ran over from head to toe. “I just want to have
him,” he said.

“That’s wrong,” Mo Ran said.

“How ridiculous,” the Evil Overlord said. “He treated me like garbage. Shi Mei is the one who
was kind to me.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Mo Ran lashed out. “You’re not in love with Shi
Mei! Why do you think you kept Chu Wanning’s body for so long?”

“Well, he was a pretty good fuck, dead or alive,” the Evil Overlord said. “But no substitute for Shi
Mei.”

“Stop insulting him,” Mo Ran snarled, seeing red.

“Wait, are the two of you fucking?” the Evil Overlord asked gleefully. He was distracted and
weakened enough that some of the chess pieces were beginning to fold. He glanced over at Chu
Wanning. “I hear Shi Mei is alive,” he tossed over his shoulder.

“So if you’re here with a living Shi Mei running around, why are you clinging to Chu Wanning?”

“Because I want to,” the Evil Overlord said, rolling his eyes.
“But you’re in love with Shi Mei,” Mo Ran persisted.

“Shi Mei is too pure to be desecrated,” the Evil Overlord said loftily. “But not Chu Wanning.
Remember how he looked when you fucked him?”

Mo Ran was stunned by his audacity and then turned on by the memories of how Chu Wanning
had felt around his dick. He glared. “I’m not like you!”

“What, you haven’t fucked him yet?” the Evil Overlord said, surprised, and then he laughed at Mo
Ran’s outraged expression. “Damn, it’s like we’re two different people after all.” Suddenly feeling
tired, he sighed. “I’m done with you, Grandmaster Mo. Time to face the music.”

The Zhenlong chess pieces rushed forward. The Evil Overlord strolled toward Chu Wanning and
patted him on the cheek with his holy weapon in hand. Mo Ran surged forward, forgetting there
was a connection between Chu Wanning and No Return.

The blade flashed, struggling in the Evil Overlord’s hand, unsure who it should listen to. The Evil
Overlord frowned, looking at it. “What, you want him?”

Stunning pain bloomed in Chu Wanning’s brain, and the dreams he had experienced cascaded over
him. The Evil Overlord cocked his head, lifting the silence curse, but Chu Wanning was in too
much pain. He saw flashes of the Evil Overlord’s world, with the Evil Overlord grinning evilly at
the center, holding a beating heart in his hands. Chu Wanning screwed his eyes shut in agony,
veins popping in his forehead.

“Oh, does something hurt?” the Evil Overlord asked, and Chu Wanning trembled. “Why the fuck
are you so weak?” Before he could probe further, a crackling sound from outside interrupted him.
“Oh, someone broke the barrier.” His head whipped around to glare at the apricot-colored shadow
flying toward them.

In the blink of an eye, the mysterious shadow stole Chu Wanning. “Sir!” Mo Ran shouted, over the
Evil Overlord’s “Wanning!” and Master Huaizui regarded them both calmly. He was as sharp-eyed
as he had been before, and Mo Ran felt relief. Surely this man wouldn’t harm his teacher.

Having never seen him before, the Evil Overlord was alarmed. “Who the fuck are you?”

Huazui ignored him, looking at Mo Ran, apparently utterly unsurprised by the doppelganger. He
seemed worried. “Benefactor Mo,” he said. “See me at Mount Longxue. Quickly.” He vanished
like the wind.

that was certainly narratively convenient, as a deux ex machine draws out the story Even
More and we once again have murdered what little momentum was generated

A sharp whistle conveniently interrupted the Evil Overlord’s brewing tantrum. “Now what?” he
snarled. He pointed to the sky. “Consider yourself lucky,” he said. “Next time, we fight until we’re
done.”

The chess pieces followed him toward the soul summoning platform, the tension rushing out of the
air like a punctured balloon. No one was left in the dragon soul hall, and Mo Ran rushed after his
doppelganger only to see him and his pawns vanish into the array. The spell formation shrank and
disappeared as the last cultivator cleared the threshold, leaving only a scarlet-tinged crescent moon
hanging in the sky. The gate of life and death in time and space had closed.

Standing atop the platform, a pervasive chill spread through Mo Ran. He felt as though he had
woken from a dream, but he knew that more was yet to come. His past had come hunting him, and
he closed his eyes and covered his ears against the onslaught of terrible memories. The Evil
Overlord featured heavily in all of them, laughing at the suffering he caused. He sobbed aloud.
“Please don’t let me be that person anymore, sir.”

Mo Ran thought of Xue Meng and Shi Mei; how they had cared for him in this life and his first
life, how Shi Mei had died and Xue Meng had hated him. He thought of Chu Wanning and sobbed
harder, clutching the ground so hard as to shred his fingertips. He howled in despair and grief, a
beast trapped in a cage of his own making.

“What should I do?” he wept, over and over again. Nowhere existed to give him succor as he
wailed and hugged himself, more miserable than he had ever been. He didn’t know who he was,
Mo Ran, Mo Weiyu, Emperor Evil Overlord, Grandmaster Mo, second young master of Sisheng
Peak, seventh generation of the Nangong family – he wore many hats and none of them fit.

One thing was for certain – Mo Ran was utterly alone. He only knew he didn’t want to be the Evil
Overlord, but he didn’t know who to beg for help. He sobbed in desolation.

overdoing it a bit there, aren’t we, dear author, though it does work well as a parody, since
I’m laughing pretty hard
 Book 3, Part 2: Decisive Battle - Revelations and Warnings

The great battle had passed, but Mo Ran was stiff as he walked away from Mount Jiao. The rising
sun in the east had washed away the gloom of night, and Mo Ran looked ahead to Linling Island.
His uncle and cousin were waiting for him, for an explanation, but he couldn’t go to them – he had
to reach Mount Longxue and Master Huaizui. Mo Ran couldn’t organize his thoughts. He only
knew that he had to go to where his teacher was.

Near Wubei Temple, Longxue Mountain had been visited by very few people over the years.
Traffic had slowly dwindled, as many had reported seeing ghosts or even vanished altogether, and
it had become empty. Mo Ran reached it after a day of traveling by sword, not having stopped to
sleep, eat, or drink.

A stream of clear spring water greeted him, and Mo Ran knelt beside it to wash his face. The mud
and blood melted away to reveal his face, and he stared at it with disgust. He scattered the sight of
his reflection, and rubbed his face. He wanted desperately to cut himself off from his own past, but
when he opened his eyes, the Evil Overlord was staring back at him from the surface of the stream.

Mo Ran got up and walked up the mountain. Halfway to the peak, a sudden fog enveloped him. He
thought it was enemy action, but there was no malicious qi to be felt. He could hear the sound of
rhododendrons throughout the forest, and the temperature began to drop. The morning sunlight
dimmed, and Mo Ran looked around. “Sir?” he called. “Master Huaizui?”

No one answered him, or came to stop him. Mo Ran continued up the path, thinking that it seemed
much like a creepy trap. The fog slowly dissipated as he walked, revealing a flat, open area. The
path behind him was still shrouded in mist, the moon bright overhead. Mo Ran stepped onto the
dewy grass, and saw his teacher kneeling in front of a cave.

The mouth of the cave was covered with a violet vine, and Master Huazui sat cross-legged before
Chu Wanning. He was calm and silent. Mo Ran started forward, calling for his teacher, only to
come up short when he actually turned around. Tears were streaming down Chu Wanning’s
cheeks. “What’s wrong?” Mo Ran asked.

“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning said weakly. The strength he had used to suppress his emotions for his
entire life was gone, and he could not stop himself from sobbing.

“Why are you crying?” Mo Ran asked, kneeling beside him and hugging him tightly. He stroked
his teacher’s hair, helpless to anything but try to comfort the man he loved. He kissed his forehead,
feeling Chu Wanning trembling in his arms, and Mo Ran’s heart ached. He looked toward Master
Huaizui.

The old monk sat on a rock, brow furrowed and eyes lowered. He held a crabapple flower partially
extended, its petals decayed. With a start, Mo Ran realized that he was dead. His expression was
pained, as though his passing had been difficult, and he no longer maintained the illusion of youth.
A golden insect was consuming his face as Mo Ran watched.

“It’s a parasite,” Chu Wanning said. “A cultivator can make a blood contract with it to change their
appearance, but when they die, the parasite devours their body.”

Despite his obvious distress, he had tried to keep his voice even. Mo Ran embraced him more
tightly. Chu Wanning had been his beacon in both lifetimes, but now his teacher’s hands and feet
were as cold as his soul. Mo Ran’s heart ached for him. “I’m here,” he repeated softly.
“He told me to come here long ago,” Chu Wanning whispered, looking as though someone had
drained his warm blood to replace it with endless pain and suffering. “He knew I wouldn’t speak to
him, so he left me a letter. I still didn’t believe him.”

Mo Ran caressed Chu Wanning’s face; he had never seen him like this, not in either lifetime.
“What happened?” he asked.

“I suspected him,” Chu Wanning sobbed. His calm rationality was gone, and he had finally broken
into pieces. The accumulated grief of a lifetime weighed him down. “I should have come long
ago,” he continued to sob. “Nangong Si wouldn’t have died. Shi Mei wouldn’t have lost his eyes.
It’s all my fault.”

“Sir,” Mo Ran said.

“I should have listened to him.” The tears had finally stopped, but he still trembled as if freezing.
Nothing Mo Ra had imagined had prepared him for this. Chu Wanning’s fingertips scrabbled at the
ground. “He left a memory scroll.” His fingers were ice-cold. “He wanted to give it to you.”

Mo Ran froze, a whole ocean of new horrifying possibilities washing over him. He couldn’t
imagine what might be contained in it. He couldn’t imagine what Master Huaizui would have
known about him. Chu Wanning covered his eyes, afraid that if he spoke again he would collapse
entirely. He slowly picked up the broken pieces of his soul, and when he was finished, he pulled
the scroll from his robes.

Wordlessly, Chu Wanning gave the scroll to Mo Ran. “These are all of his secrets,” he said.

“Did he show it to you?” Mo Ran asked, voice trembling.

“Yes.”

Mo Ran quailed, and he looked into Chu Wanning’s eyes. His teacher knew everything. He took
the scroll, caressing Chu Wanning’s fingers. “Wanning,” he said. “If I told you the truth, would
you hate me?”

Already pale, Chu Wanning’s face turned green. “Mo Ran,” he said.

“Would you hate me?” Mo Ran repeated, holding his hand.

Chu Wanning didn’t answer. “Look at the scroll.”

Strong yin energy radiated from the scroll, reminding Mo Ran of the illusions at Peach Blossom
Spring. He opened it, a bright glow spilling out to wash away the scenery before his eyes. Darkness
came in its wake, and Master Huaizui’s voice filled his ears. “Grandmaster Chu, Benefactor Mo,
time is running out. However, a great calamity is about to befall us, and I must tell you something
very important.” He paused. “The memories in this scroll are hard to believe, but they are all true. I
committed great wrongs in my life and have done very few deeds. Although I cannot be redeemed,
I have hope that the two of you will still think of me fondly.”

Faint light slowly became visible, and Mo Ran saw broken walls and old trees. Crows pecked at
corpses, and he thought his surroundings looked familiar. A group of people arrived at the city
gate, one of the young men flinging himself off his horse and screaming for his father. Mo Ran
suddenly recognized the illusion he had seen at Peach Blossom Spring.

------
Unlike his experience at Peach Blossom Spring, Mo Ran couldn’t participate in the scenario. He
could only watch invisibly as the young man wept for his father. Knowing what the youth would
do, Mo Ran felt a chill course through him; he would betray the governor’s son, Chu Xun, in order
to resurrect his adoptive father. Remembering that the boy’s name was XiaoMan, Mo Ran
happened to notice a black mole on his left palm. He suddenly remembered that Master Huazui had
the same mole.

“I was born in Lin’an,” Master Huaizui’s voice said. “The events you see happened the year I was
fourteen.”

Mo Ran’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t believe that Master Huaizui was the same person he
had seen two hundred years ago. Master Huaizui kept talking, telling the story of finding his
adoptive father’s body and forging an agreement with the Ghost King. Mo Ran saw the events play
out as Huaizui spoke, begging the guards not to dismember his father’s body and being dragged
way.

“I was resentful,” Huaizui’s voice continued. “Selfish. So I betrayed Lin’an to take revenge.”

Mo Ran saw once again how Chu Xun’s dead wife ate her living son, and how the citizens
betrayed their hero. He saw Chu Xun kneel and wail in despair and the mob drag him to the temple
to sacrifice him for their own survival. He watched Chu Xun pull out his own heart.

“I went to the ghost realm,” Master Huaizui said. “But I couldn’t forget the young master Chu, and
I couldn’t escape the guilt in my heart.” He paused. “I was a traitor. Not long after, I heard that Chu
Xun’s soul had arrived in the underworld. He would have been able to reincarnate, but the souls of
his wife and child had been too badly damaged to do the same. He tried to barter himself for their
repair, but it did not go well.”

Mo Ran listened to Huaizui tell of how he hadn’t had the courage to face Chu Xun himself but had
begged on his behalf from anyone who would listen to intercede with the gods of the dead. He had
knelt and pleaded. The Ninth Ghost King, having lost an eye to Chu Xun, had been furious when
he had found that his subordinate was trying to help the man who had wounded him, and had sent
him back to the mortal world. The ghost king had furthermore cursed him to never reincarnate, as
punishment for his second betrayal.

The sound of rain grew louder, and Mo Ran saw that Master Huaizui had become a monk upon his
return to the world. It had been a century since he had been there, Master Huaizui’s voice
continued, although he could go back and forth between the realms at need. He had searched
everywhere for some sign that Chu Xun’s wife and child had been reborn, trying to redeem even
the smallest portion of his sins.

Mo Ran thought that others might laugh at the old monk’s attempts to make restitution, but tears
prickled at his eyelashes. Master Huaizui had wanted to atone, an impulse Mo Ran understood all
too well. He felt kinship with him; they had both committed terrible wrongs, and no matter how
much good they did, it would never make up for the evil, Mo Ran knew.

“I have been in this world for nearly a hundred years,” Master Huaizui’s voice said softly. “But no
matter how many good deeds I do, I will still go to hell forever.”

Mo Ran saw his memories of the years, working in repentance. Chu Xun’s son had never
reincarnated, he learned, but finally Master Huaizui had gathered enough courage to pluck a
blossoming crabapple branch and bring it to the ghost realm as a gift. Chu Xun had refused to see
him. Because he hadn’t thrown away the branch, Master Huaizui had hoped that his hatred would
gradually diminish; but then he had heard that while Lady Chu’s soul would heal, the child’s had
been destroyed.

“I became even guiltier,” he said. “But then I found something.”

Mo Ran saw Master Huaizui sitting in a cabin holding an object. It was a piece of wood, lustrous in
the dim light. It was the Flame Emperor’s Divine Wood, shockingly, a piece of a divine tree lost
for thousands of years. It could do anything, even repair a soul – or it could ascend a mortal into an
immortal. Mo Ran remembered the rumor that Master Huaizui had refused immortality, and
wondered if he had tried and failed instead.

“I wanted to use it for myself,” Master Huaizui said. “I thought it was a gift from the heavens, to
prevent my eternal suffering, but then I learned that it could create a living person.”

LMFAOOOOOO every time I think she can’t possibly come up with a dumber reason for
chu wanning to be Special, she asspulls something even more mind-numbingly asinine

------

Of all the things Master Huaizui could have said, Mo Ran hadn’t expected this. He knew that the
divine wood was one of three divine artifacts, imbued with pure qi and the source of the first
immortals in the world. The world spun around Mo Ran as he realized that Huaizui had carved the
wood into the very image of Chu Lan.

The memory scroll showed Master Huaizui in the meditation room, with the doors and windows
closed, sculpting by the light emanating from the divine wood itself. The pieces of wood turned to
gold as they hit the ground, and Master Huaizui’s knife was slow and deliberate. Mo Ran watched
as it took him five years to create a perfect replica of the dead child, and when it was done, he
bowed to it and wept.

The sun was setting and the morning bell rang throughout the temple. The monks burned cypress
and pine, infusing the air with fragrant, cool bitterness. The courtyard was at peace, and Master
Huaizui spoke softly. “I shall call you Chu Wanning,” he said.

The monk bit his fingertip, imbuing the blood with metallic qi, and resplendent light filled the
room. It suddenly occurred to Mo Ran how this must have hurt Chu Wanning, to learn that he
hadn’t been born but made, that he had no parents, and was nothing but a piece of wood and a drop
of blood. The child had been brought up in the monastery, as Huaizui’s disciple, but he had
eventually started to wonder where he had come from.

Master Huaizui, Mo Ran heard, told Chu Wanning that he had been born in Lin’an. As a happy,
carefree child, Chu Wanning had asked to visit his birthplace. Mo Ran watched him frolic around
the temple garden and visit the city with Master Huaizui, and it made him unaccountably
uncomfortable to see his teacher without a care in the world. He watched him eat cake, sharing it
unprompted with his teacher. Pain threaded Mo Ran’s heart at the pure beauty of the child Chu
Wanning had once been before the world had hardened his heart.

But wait, Mo Ran realized, there’s more! Not only had Master Huaizui created a simulacrum of
life, he had planned to imbue it with the remnants of Chu Lan’s broken soul, said Master Huaizui’s
voice sorrowfully. He had not found it wrong, because his creation had not truly been alive.

“No!” Mo Ran shouted, but he couldn’t alter the past by screaming at it. He still couldn’t help
himself. “He had a soul! He wasn’t just a thing to do whatever you wanted to! He was alive!”

In the vision, Huaizui mumbled to himself as he worked. A chill ran down Mo Ran’s spine, but he
couldn’t do anything but watch. He was terrified of what he would see, desperately afraid of
witnessing how his teacher had suffered – more than anyone had ever known or suspected, the
tragedy epic in its scope – and murder the innocent soul he had once been in favor of a broken
thing.

No amount of screaming could stop Huaizui from replacing the beautiful innocent child with the
soul that had been Chu Lan. Mo Ran begged, but the visions continued to unspool before his eyes.
Chu Wanning grew to adulthood with the only time he spent outside the monastery when he went
to Lin’an for a few months as a child, until he turned fourteen.

The teenage Chu Wanning practiced his sword under the frosty moonlight, Mo Ran saw,
resembling a goddess surrounded by flower petals. He sliced petals in mid-air, sheathing his sword
when he had finished his dance, and his chest heaved. He smiled at the sight of his teacher
watching him. He pushed the hair off his forehead, sweating.

“Your cultivation has improved,” Huaizui said, taking his hand. “A little more practice, and it’ll be
stable as well as robust.”

Mo Ran watched, heart aching, as Chu Wanning preened under his teacher’s praise. How, he
thought, could the person in front of him not have his own soul, but Huaizui in the past could not
hear him. A bolt of metaphorical lightning slammed through him as he remembered the scar on
Chu Wanning’s chest. Pure horror overtook him as he realized that Master Huaizui had killed Chu
Wanning to take him to the spirit realm for the soul transplant.

Pain, he thought distantly, horrified beyond measure that the original Chu Wanning had been
murdered. His soul had been taken away – why had he had to suffer so much, Mo Ran thought, and
then he wondered if he had known Chu Lan or Chu Wanning as his teacher. He thought he would
go mad from how horrible it all was, dizziness and nausea overwhelming him.

NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMM

------

Hollow inside, Mo Ran’s voice failed him. He stared straight ahead as Master Huaizui continued to
tell his tale of woe and guilt. He saw a mountain road in early winter, covered with frost and fresh
snow, marked with the tracks of carriages and horses. He saw Huaizui and Chu Wanning run into a
starving child, and remembered the story of how Chu Wanning had begged his teacher to intervene
but Huaizui had refused. Now he got to see it play out in excruciating details.

Chu Wanning had never seen someone starving to death, and hadn’t recognized the signs, but Mo
Ran and Huaizui knew what they were looking at. The child begged for rice, Chu Wanning staring
in horror, and Mo Ran began to feel that the scene was very familiar. He stared as the teenage Chu
Wanning figured out what was happening and knelt to give the child a warm cloak and food, and
Master Huaizui snapped at him to leave off and go home.

Mo Ran watched Chu Wanning defy his teacher, refusing to accept that someone he respected
would look at someone in pain and walk the other way. The teenager knelt, trying to feed the child,
and Mo Ran was now sure he had seen this scene somewhere before, except the perspective was
wrong. It wasn’t until Chu Wanning coaxed water down the child’s throat that Mo Ran realized he
had been that child and Chu Wanning had saved his life.

The adult Mo Ran threw his arms over his face, choked with misery as he recalled the kindness
Chu Wanning had shown him. His teacher had fed him with his bare hands, for Mo Ran had been
too weak to eat any other way. He had been sure the man who was feeding him clean water instead
of filth from puddles in the street was an angel sent from the heavens, and he sobbed now to
remember the purity and goodness radiating from Chu Wanning.

BAHAHHAAAA OMFG LOLOLLLLLLLLL

As a child, Mo Ran had licked Chu Wanning’s hand like a dog, over and over again in his gratitude
and desire for more. Chu Wanning had felt his heart ache with sorrow and compassion for this poor
soul, lost and abandoned. Mo Ran never forgot.

uh he clearly did, as evidenced by this entire chapter and also the entire book in which he did
not recognize him BUT OKAY SURE WE’LL JUST PRETEND THIS IS A VERY
EMOTIONAL MOMENT

If Mo Ran had never met the big bro who had saved his life, he would have joined his mother on
the wheel of reincarnation. He had gone to the temple, hoping to meet him, but had never seen him
again. He had visited as Emperor Evil Overlord, even, but his benefactor had been gone. Still, he
had rewarded the temple with boxes full to the brim with gold.

Peak irony, that he had tormented his savior day and night. His big bro savior had given him the
clothes off his body, and Mo Ran had repaid him with torture and humiliation. He writhed in
shame now, unable to believe the astounding hand he had been dealt by fate, and he couldn’t bear
to think of what Chu Wanning must think. Master Huaizui was still talking, explaining how he had
tried to take the child to the temple, but the child had said he had to go somewhere else first.

oh yes we must develop an excuse for losing track of the kid, although it is paper fucking thin
and does not hold up if one thinks about it even a little but yeah sure we’ll keep pretending
this is some Grand Ironic Tragedy

Huaiazui spoke of how the rebellious teenage Chu Wanning, who had refused to learn his lesson
even after being sent to meditate in solitude for 164 days, and who had gone so far as to burn his
scrolls in protest. Seeing that he could not be reasoned with, Huaizui explained, he been upset
when Chu Wanning had wanted to look for the child. He had disappeared for days.

The spotlight shone down on Wubei Temple’s courtyard. Chu Wanning stood, spine razor-straight,
looking like nothing so much as an unparalleled holy weapon unsheathed after many years of
forging. His sharp edge could not be blunted. The blood and filth covering him only lent him an air
of dignity.

Master Huaizui sorrowfully narrated how Chu Wanning had abandoned the temple to tend to the
poor unfortunate souls of the world. He had begged his teacher to go with him, but Huaizui had
been angry that Chu Wanning continued to defy him. They had argued bitterly, Huaizui angry that
Chu Wanning refused to listen to reason and Chu Wanning furious that the temples did not care for
every less fortunate person in the world. In the end, although they had both felt tremendous pain at
their falling-out, Chu Wanning had insisted that he would leave.

“Stop, you unfilial disciple,” Huaizui had spat.

I honestly cannot overstate how much I do not give a shit about this flashback

------

Huaizui’s pronouncement sounded like an apocalypse, and Mo Ran knew what would come next.
He had heard the story, and already knew what would happen, but he still wanted to rush into the
past to protect his poor mistreated Chu Wanning. Instead, he could only watch, overcome with pain
at how terribly his wonderful teacher had been treated.

Mo Ran had watched the trust Chu Wanning had had in the man who had raised and taught him
shatter as it was ground into dust. He sobbed for Chu Wanning to run and save himself but it was
no use. Huaizui told Chu Wanning to leave if he wanted, and then – when Chu Wanning’s face had
lit up in joy and gratitude – stabbed him through the heart. He had stabbed him metaphorically,
telling Chu Wanning that he was dead to him and they would never have a relationship again. Chu
Wanning had thanked him for his past guidance, and Huaizui had been beyond enraged that the
block of wood he had created to hold Chu Lan’s spirit was now defying him, fourteen years later,
wanting such mad things as to take care of the less fortunate.

if the kid died at the age of like three why are you putting his soul in a teenage body. I mean,
other than because this Very Tragic And Moving Scene couldn’t have happened if he’d tried
to shove a soul into a three-year-old

Mo Ran tried to catch Chu Wanning, to protect him from the increasing guilt in Huaizui’s eyes. He
begged Chu Wanning to run and save himself, to no avail. These events had already happened, and
no matter how much he screamed, he couldn’t stop the blade from piercing Chu Wanning’s knee.
Calmly, Chu Wanning turned around, and looked coldly at his teacher.

“Sir, if you wish to take my life,” he said, face devoid of expression, I cannot stop you. If I simply
sit up here, it is the same as not living at all.”

“Then repay your debt to me,” Huaizui said. “For fourteen years I have raised you. Give me your
spirit core.”

The new plan was to take the spirit core and build another Chu Wanning, without teaching this one
pesky things like morals, compassion, or the plight of the common people. The Chu Wanning
before Huaizui regarded him steadily. The lights flickered dramatically in the courtyard.

Mo Ran heard Huaizui’s voice resounding in his ears. “He knelt on the ground,” said the old monk.
“When he looked at me, I felt as if he were Buddha himself forgiving those mortals who had hurt
him.”

LOLOLOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“No,” Mo Ran whimpered, and closed his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to watch the teenager who
had been his teacher die. The blade struck the ground, and Mo Ran’s eyes flew open. He
desperately crawled over to the illusion of the past and tried to save Chu Wanning’s life, but the
events he saw had taken place long ago and he knew he couldn’t change them but he still tried.
Nothing helped. Mo Ran kept trying, but he couldn’t change the past. He wailed in pain.

this entire scene is framed as how Mo Ran feels about Chu Wanning’s experiences – he has
no thoughts for how Chu Wanning feels about it now, and this has been indicative of how
pretty much every character has interacted with others. Everyone has Very Big Feelings,
which are treated as carte blanche for them to act (mostly like assholes) without considering
the impact on others. Even when Mo Ran and Chu Wanning are pining at each other, the
closest they come to thinking about how the other person feels is Does He Like Me Back,
which is still self-centered

Watching helplessly, Mo Ran saw Chu Wanning stoically endure the pain, using a technique to
remain on his feet while stabbing his own chest to remove his spiritual core as blood fountained
down his torso. It was the most terrible and the most amazing thing Mo Ran had ever seen, the
sweet and broken bright red of flesh, and he marveled that Chu Wanning had not died of cracking
his own chest open and digging out his own spiritual core while remaining stoically on his feet
without showing even an ounce of the blinding pain he felt inside.

this of course is hilariously absurd, tho I think author was aiming for Cool and Awesome

Huaizui gaped, dumbfounded, and suddenly began to doubt that this was what he really wanted. At
this point, the scroll blurred in front of Mo Ran’s eyes under the weight of Huaizui’s guilt and other
emotions. All that Mo Ran had seen was soft and real and flickered together without regard for
space and time. He saw Chu Wanning astoundingly receive Heavenly Questions at the age of
eleven, only to be given an unprecedented second holy weapon without even asking for it when he
tried to leave.

yes yes we have been shilling the Wesley for the entire book it’s not going to stop now

Mo Ran watched Chu Wanning run carefree through Lin’an City as a child with a happy smile. He
saw his teacher try sweets for the first time, and learn to play, and learn his lessons. He was the
cutest and most wonderful thing Mo Ran had ever seen as he doggedly persisted in trying to learn.
The emotions in the scroll pressed against Mo Ran, as Huaizui remembered reminding himself that
the child was not a child but a piece of wood.

But, Mo Ran realized, Huaizui had always known that Chu Wanning had had a soul. He had
pretended otherwise so that he could amend the wrongs he had perpetrated, selfishly. His voice, as
he admitted this to Mo Ran, sounded like a broken gong full of tears, extremely hoarse. He had
betrayed this most precious of trusts. When Chu Wanning had started to carve out his spiritual
core, Huaizui had stopped him.

The teenage Chu Wanning had fainted from the pain, and Huaizui had had flashbacks of the
lifeless Chu Xun and Chu Lan. He had recounted in his mind how Chu Wanning was a different
person than both of them. The image when black again, and Mo Ran heard a faint sigh as Huaizui
reiterated his guilt and selfishness yet again.

“I thought that when I gave him a name, I owned him,” Huaizui said heavily. “But I didn’t realize
that I had created a living person – or I told myself that he was no such thing, but then I finally
understood. He created his own spirit soul – because someone as dirty, weak, and sinful as I could
never have created something so clean and pure.” He sobbed.

see: we are centering Huaizui’s reaction to what he did, not how the person he mistreated
feels, and the narrative wants us to wallow in the Beautiful Tragedy. No, thank you.

“Never.”

------

The scroll showed another scene, a rainy morning and Master Huaizui sitting in the meditation
room. He was chanting scripture, and light flashed at the door. Mo Ran looked over to see Chu
Wanning glowing in the sunlight. "Why did you save me, sir?" Chu Wanning asked.

"No blood may be shed at Wubei Temple," Master Huaizui replied. "You may leave the temple,
but if you go, don't come back."

"Sir," Chu Wanning said after a long hesitation. Blood stained the gauze on his chest, evidence of
the fifteen years of trust he had had with his master, only to be shattered by a demand for his spirit
core. His master had not been the benevolent person he had thought; he had had an ulterior motive
all along. "Goodbye, sir," he said finally, and walked away.

Huaizui's voice spoke of how he had known Chu Wanning would hate him, shortly after his
fifteenth birthday, when he had been told not to return to the temple. In the memory, he looked
across the courtyard at the snow. He stared blankly, his young face at odds with his old eyes. He
recounted his feelings of guilt, how he had forgotten the passions of his youth, and how there
would be no further chance to atone for his sins.

But then, he reported, someone had suddenly arrived, knocking at the door late at night. "It's you,"
Huaizui had gasped.

Chu Wanning had returned, underdressed for the weather and looking poorly. He had been hesitant
when entering the room, and it had taken him a long moment to explain. "I can't sustain my qi," he
said. "The censer is too important to give to just anyone, but I don't know who to give it to. I don't
know what he'll be like in the future. You're the only person I can think of to trust."

The scarlet earring piercing Chu Wanning's left ear caught Mo Ran's attention, and he felt as
though he had been struck by lightning. He didn't think it was the Chu Wanning from this world at
all. He remembered that he had made an earring with a love curse out of his blood and qi and
forced it upon Chu Wanning - exactly like the earring in the vision from the scroll.

Mo Ran clearly remembered how he had felt, creating and implanting the earring immediately after
he had ridden Chu Wanning to completion, how he had pierced his soft ear in a violation and claim
of ownership. He had stroked it, mocking his former teacher's trembling. Seeing the same jewelry
in the illusion of the scroll shook him to his core, and he couldn't pay attention to the conversation
between his teacher and his teacher's former master.

Catching the words Gate of Life and Death, as well as unstoppable and forbidden destruction, Mo
Ran conveniently was too stunned by the revelation to hear the context. He saw Huaizui slump
back, asking for proof. Chu Wanning had shaken his head. "I don't have any," he said. "I can only
ask for your trust."

"You said that this person in your world, on the other side of the gate, this the Evil Overlord. That
he'll come here." Huaizui paused. "You want to change the past."

"I want to stop his destruction from happening," Chu Wanning said. "Once he learns how to make
the gate, nowhere will be safe."

"This is nonsense," Huaizui said.

Glancing at the door, Chu Wanning sighed. "I have taken steps," he said. "I have set up the most
important spell to slowly evaporate from the censer. I need you to guard it, make sure no one
disturbs it."

Huaizui opened his mouth. "I," he said.

A shrill whistle sounded from outside the window, and Chu Wanning's already pale face lost what
little color it had. "Please," he said. "I can't trust anyone else."

Moved by the word trust, Huaizui took the censer and nodded. The whistle grew louder and
sharper, and Chu Wanning looked out the window. He seemed restless, and he had to shout to be
heard over the noise.

"Everything will change when the heavenly rift appears," Chu Wanning shouted, then turned and
ran into the night. He bowed deeply in farewell, and then he was gone.
The stars shone in the dark night, and the scenery shook violently before Mo Ran's eyes. It fell into
pieces, and Huaizui's voice spoke of how he was shocked that Chu Wanning had trusted him after
his betrayal. He hadn't dared believe his wild story at first, until the rift at Butterfly Town and Chu
Waning's death. That was, he said, why he had come to resurrect his former student. "I didn't think
it was appropriate for me to force him to leave," he said. "So I asked him to see me, and yet he
refused."

Master Huaizui mourned that Chu Wanning refused to give him another chance, sorrow threading
through it as he lamented the end of his life and explained that he had made the scroll in case of his
death. He had not wanted to see Chu Wanning's sad eyes, and apologized for letting himself die
before facing his former student. He apologized for his selfishness.

"Young master Chu," he said. "Would you forgive me?"

we are still centering Huaizui's feelings and not the reaction of the person who was
mistreated, and not the literal existential threat, which is some extremely self-centered
behavior

Wind blew, sending the scattered memories dancing past each other. Chu Wanning's young voice
rose in song, his teenage voice castigated his teacher for refusing to interfere, and his adult voice
bade his teacher goodbye. Mo Ran saw Huaizui's stooped figure smiling down at the carved piece
of wood that would become a man. The clock struck midnight. "I'll just call you Chu Wanning,"
his voice echoed.

are we supposed to feel some kind of sentimentality here? it's very poorly done

The memories vanished from around Mo Ran, dumping him back onto the outside world where the
sun set peacefully. Mo Ran felt Huaizui's guilt at what he had done to the child named Chu
Wanning. Limp on the ground, he called out. "Sir," he said. "Wanning." He understood now what
had driven such a strong man to sob in his arms, that he had paid too high a price for his freedom.

Mo Ran knew that Chu Wanning had spent two lifetimes trying to make up for the Evil Overlord's
atrocities, trying to stop his madness before it began. Every blow had smashed him down until he
had been utterly broken.

The regret and love crystallized in Mo Ran's heart as he saw his teacher sitting quietly. He slowly
stood, walking over to him, and Chu Wanning opened his eyes. They gazed at each other silently.
Mo Ran bent down to embrace him. "Sir, I don't care where you came from, as long as you love
me. I'll always -" His voice choked, and he couldn't finish the sentence. "I'll always be here," he
said finally.

What Mo Ran could not say was that he was unworthy of the purity of Chu Wanning, that he
couldn't stand by his side but that he would protect him until the day of his death.

istg this is the dumbest most contrived source of conflict

------

Chu Wanning said nothing, and Mo Ran felt it was for the best. He was tired and numb, and felt
unable to handle any more mental blows. After a while, Chu Wanning disentangled himself and
got up slowly. "I'm going to the cave," he said. "The other me felt it was important, so I need to see
it."

"Do you hate me, now that you know the truth?" Mo Ran asked, knowing it was childish. "You
hate me," he muttered.

“The Evil Overlord, what have you done," Chu Wanning said sardonically. Mo Ran felt a ray of
hope. "Have you killed?" Chu Wanning asked. Mo Ran remained silent. "Slaughtered a city?" Chu
Wanning continued, and at Mo Ran's continued silence, he thought of the dreams he had had. He
knew what they meant, now. "What about what you did to me?" he said quietly.

Nausea welled up in Mo Ran's throat and he felt it was the punishment he deserved for having
failed to speak for so long. The truth had come out in spite of him, and he felt as though he stood on
the executioner's platform. He was suddenly tired of running. "Go into the cave," he said. Before
Chu Wanning could react, he walked toward it himself and glanced over his shoulder. "Sir," he
added.

With a warm and brilliant laugh, Chu Wanning gave Mo Ran hope. He followed him to the cave,
unsure of what to say. He lifted a cold hand to Mo Ran's equally cold cheek. Mo Ran opened his
eyes slowly, and Chu Wanning sighed. "I wanted you to grow into what you are today," he said.
"You and the Evil Overlord are not the same."

Mo Ran was silent for a long moment, laughter and tears choking his throat. He knew that he and
the Evil Overlord were one and the same, had been the same person, and he resolved to tell Chu
Wanning the truth when everything was over. He closed his eyes, took Chu Wanning's hand, and
entered the cave.

The world outside the mouth of the cave vanished as soon as they stepped inside. It was shallow
and narrow, holding only a small case with a rusty, smoking stove. Mo Ran didn't like incense, but
all he could smell was crabapple. "What kind of curse?" he asked.

"I don't know," Chu Wanning said slowly. "I am not the same as he, and I don't know what kinds
of techniques the other me might have learned." He glanced toward the smoking stove. "Perhaps if
we touch it?" He traced its surface with his fingertips, but nothing happened.

"Maybe we both need to touch it," Mo Ran said, although he didn't want Chu Wanning to ever
know the truth. At Chu Wanning's nod, both of them laid their fingertips on the engraved pattern.
The scent of crabapple intensified, filling the cave, and the two of them were swallowed by rolling
clouds. "Sir?" Mo Ran stuttered.

Qi saturated the clouds, clear and powerful,and Mo Ran felt as though he was floating in the sky.
He called again for Chu Wanning, but heard nothing. Chu Wanning found himself floating in
bright nothingness as well, and when he called for Mo Ran, his voice seemed oddly flat and dead.
After a while, it failed him and he could neither hear nor make a sound.

Neither cultivator could move, once their voices had been silent, and Chu Wanning felt as if he
was in a dream. He became confused, wondering what was going on, and it took a long time for the
smoke to dissipate. He saw red candles and a familiar table, recognizing the Red Lotus Pavilion.
He sat stiffly, wondering what his other self had wanted him to see. The sky outside told him the
hour was late, and two servants were helping him comb his hair.

Chu Wanning felt himself raise his arm, saying, "I'll do it."

The door was roughly pushed open, crashing into the wall, and Chu Wanning closed his eyes. A
familiar voice behind him ordered the servants out, and Chu Wanning remained sitting straight. He
felt the man approach him, step by step. "Why haven't you slept?" Mo Ran asked, hot with the
scent of alcohol.
"I'm getting ready" Chu Wanning heard himself say indifferently.

"So I see." Mo Ran smiled. "I don't know why you don't like the clothes I have made for you.
They're beautiful." He didn't wait for an answer. "You don't like anything I give you," he added
with a sneer. "You're going to be mine in the end, though." He wrapped Chu Wanning in his arms
from behind, and Chu Wanning opened his eyes.

A heavy bronze mirror in front of him reflected Mo Ran, wearing red-gold robes and a nine-beaded
crown. It was a wedding costume, and he began to kiss Chu Wanning's neck. Fear and something
else led Chu Wanning to shiver. "Don't do anything foolish," he said.

"Don't be so cold," Mo Ran said. "What do you want me to do, sir?"

Chu Wanning bit his lips. "You're an evil beast."

"Who owns you," Mo Ran said lightly, looking more than half-drunk and utterly consumed by lust.

Chu Wanning thrust something toward Mo Ran to break his hold, and stared angrily at him. Mo
Ran grunted with pain. "Get out," Chu Wanning said, and now he could see that he had stabbed his
former student with a wedding hairpin.

"Shame on you," Mo Ran laughed, licking at his bleeding wound. He rolled the blood between his
lips and teeth. "Chu Wanning, you have such sharp claws."

"Get out," Chu Wanning repeated.

"Is that all you know how to say?" Mo Ran seemed to enjoy the pain. "How you cast aside your
lord and master. Why didn't you keep silent in the hall today?" He stalked toward him, grabbing
his wrist. "You think I won't touch you, but you're wrong." He grinned, his own blood staining his
teeth. "You seem so angry, sir," he said. "But you're the one who's going to suffer."

"You're shameless," Chu Wanning spat.

"You're not wrong," Mo Ran said thoughtfully, "but no one is really a gentleman. You know, I sent
Xue Meng an invitation to the banquet today, but he didn't answer. Would you like for him to
come rescue you?"

Although his voice was quiet, Chu Wanning knew exactly what Mo Ran meant, and he glared
instead of answering. Mo Ran licked his ear with a bloody tongue. He seemed angry.

"Do you know when you're in the most trouble? When you look at me insolently." He pulled his
hand away. "Touch it, sir, it's big and hot and just for you." He yanked Chu Wanning's wrist down.
"It wants you so much."

"Get out," Chu Wanning repeated.

"Three times is not the charm," Mo Ran said. His eyes were full of malice. "Today I marry a wife
and a concubine, and yet I left my ceremony just for you. You should be grateful." He smirked.
"Perhaps I should call you Concubine Chu."

The indignity was intolerable, and Chu Wanning was nauseated by the words. His body started
shaking, and Mo Ran began to laugh. Chu Wanning couldn't move.

"You should be happy," Mo Ran said. "If you were a woman, you'd be pregnant by now. You
should be thrilled to wait in bed for me, like a good little concubine."
Chu Wanning was so angry that he couldn’t say a word, and he could no longer tell if the emotions
belonged to him or to his other self. He was creeped out and shocked at the truth of Mo Ran's past
as the Evil Overlord. His student had been a madman, he realized, and Mo Ran started cackling.
He pinched Chu Wanning's cheeks, kissing him fiercely with his bloody mouth, and pinned Chu
Wanning against the couch. Shivering, Chu Wanning closed his eyes as Mo Ran's body pressed
him down hard.

"Do your duty as a gentleman and a married man," he breathed. "You can't escape me."

------

A fishy smell permeated Chu Wanning’s nostrils, and he looked at Mo Ran’s face. The line
between dream and reality blurred as he realized that what he had experienced were not dreams but
memories of his other self. He did not know what he was feeling, only that it was entirely real and
he was miserable. He couldn’t tell who he was – the accomplished grandmaster or the laughable
consort. He was brutally invaded, experiencing again the actions of Mo Ran’s previous self.

It was really painful. Chu Wanning felt as though he were in a trance, flickering back and forth
between Mo Ran kissing him in the hot spring and asking for permission and the Evil Overlord’s
heartless penetration. At one point, the Evil Overlord demanded Chu Wanning cling to him instead
of the quilt, the closest he came to compassion during the entire ordeal. Chu Wanning did not do as
he asked, and the Evil Overlord became even rougher.

“Get out,” Chu Wanning heard himself say, but the Evil Overlord did not heed his wishes.

Chu Wanning told himself that the person violating him wasn’t Mo Ran, not the man who had
smiled at him under flowering trees and who wanted to protect him. Not the man who had given
him milk candy, who had been honest and shy, who had been so careful not to hurt him.
Eventually, his consciousness faded.

When he came back to himself, it was to a twisted curse and a burning slap on his face. He
remembered this dream, that he had been painted with an aphrodisiac ointment. The Evil Overlord
had been drunk, hatred and pleasure rolled into one, and he had mocked Chu Wanning for trying to
hold himself stoically aloof while he was forced. Chu Wanning begged to be spared, and that was
mocked as well. Then the aphrodisiac had started working, and he had wanted it. He couldn’t tell
the difference between the memory and himself in the present.

It was no comfort to Chu Wanning that his former student had had to use the strongest drugs in the
world to get him to want him; he had gotten what he wanted, Chu Wanning breathless and lustful
under him. He had begged to belong to the Evil Overlord, begged every time he had stopped,
begged to be humiliated and degraded. When the lust had finally faded, he had found memories of
the past flooding in. He had remembered Shi Mei’s death, and the bloody destruction of Rufeng
Sect. He remembered everything, but he did not move or speak, or even become angry.

I am side-eying Alternate Chu Wanning pretty hard for recreating his trauma for his other
self to experience; it seems petty and vindictive. From the Doylist perspective, of course, it’s
meant to crassly titillate the reader, but as I can’t help but look at the text also from the
Watsonian perspective, it makes me like Chu Wanning even less than I already did.

It was in the process of fucking him nearly senseless, Chu Wanning decided, that something had
passed from the illusion of his former student into him and given him the memories of his other
self. His head was in agony with the excess of information crammed in too quickly. Off to the side,
he heard Mo Ran speaking.
“I’m sorry, sir,” his disciple said, voice careful. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Mo Ran had experienced the same scene, as Chu Wanning had, unable to control his actions. His
heart had hurt so badly he had thought it would burst as he had relived the terrible things he had
forced upon his teacher. Coming out of it, he looked down at Chu Wanning lying prone on the
cold stone surface without the strength to even lift a finger, and Mo Ran felt so dizzy that he
thought he would faint.

Chu Wanning’s voice was hoarse. “You can leave first,” he said.

Mo Ran’s heart hurt even more. He hadn’t expected to experience his wedding night again, even if
he had suspected the cave would hold memories as the scroll had. Despite desperately wanting not
to hurt Chu Wanning, he had been forced to relive doing that exact thing – and face the fact that,
the Evil Overlord or Mo Ran, he wanted to subdue and possess Chu Wanning.

Mo Ran knew his nature couldn’t be changed; he had loved hearing his teacher’s groans of pain
even as he had hated himself for causing them. He didn’t know who he was – Grandmaster Mo or
the Evil Overlord. They had experienced together the night Mo Ran had perpetrated one of his
three unforgivable acts. Filled with shame and guilt, Mo Ran remembered that he had actually
forced Chu Wanning to dress as a bride and marry him as a concubine.

Having forced the proud and respectable cultivator to suffer the enduring shame of dressing as a
woman and marrying a man, Mo Ran had then kept it a secret. No one knew who the mysterious
Concubine Chu was, and he had carried out his spitefully vindictive play in secret. After Chu
Wanning had died, he had wanted to announce his identity to the world, but he hadn’t wanted to be
laughed at. He had dug his concubine a grave instead.

At first he had wanted to write The Tomb of Chu Wanning, but then he had thought it would make
him regretful and miserable. The Tomb of Concubine Chu was no better for an aloof and serious
person who hid his emotions. Then it occurred to him that Chu Wanning had abandoned him, and
he was suddenly furious. He had decided to humiliate his dead lover instead.

Emperor Evil Overlord, holding his knife in hand to carve an epitaph, thought for a long time. He
thought of the sunset, the color of the sunset. He thought of the descending night, the shining of
the silver hook. Finally, he wrote: Grave of the Steamed Consort Chu, and laughed.

Then he had run to the Red Lotus Pavilion, eager to tell Chu Wanning of what he had done and
watch him grow angry with rage. And yet, Chu Wanning had refused to display his infamous
temper. He had refused to move at all. It had been the ultimate insult. Mo Ran knew then that he
had finally gotten a pliant, obedient Chu Wanning, just like he had always wanted, and he hated it.

In the present, in the icy cold silence of the cave atop Mount Longxue, Mo Ran held his scarred
lover in his arms silently. He remembered the night they had been together for the first time in
Wuchang Town, when he had sworn in his heart never to hurt Chu Wanning again. And yet, he
had broken that promise. His heart trembled violently, as if the earth had cracked and the sky
collapsed. In the face of his tidal wave of emotion, Chu Wanning told him to leave first.

Mo Ran did not say anything, nor did he know what to say. Heroically enduring the pain in his
heart, Mo Ran dressed himself and helped Chu Wanning to get dressed. Cold sweat covered his
body as he saw the bruises he had left under the influence of the dream, and he did not dare look at
Chu Wanning’s face. Enduring the pain of knowing he had caused them, he clung to Chu
Wanning’s cold hands.

“You, uh, you already knew, sir?” he asked.

“Yes,” Chu Wanning said, stunning Mo Ran.

It had happened, he thought, and it was as if a great weight had fallen from his heart. He could run
no longer from his past, and not having it hanging over his head was a profound relief. He gathered
his courage.

“I’m not sure what to think,” Chu Wanning said hoarsely. “It’s too messy.” Mo Ran touched his
pale cheeks with badly shaking hands. “The Evil Overlord,” Chu Wanning muttered. “Mo Ran.”
He closed his yes.

“We should sleep,” Mo Ran said. “And not think for a while.” Chu Wanning trembled at the sound
of his voice, and Mo Ran felt a fresh wave of guilty pain. “Don’t be afraid of me, sir. I’m not the
Evil Overlord. I won’t hurt you.”

Moisture glimmered under Chu Wanning’s eyelashes, but he did not speak. He turned away,
curling up in his customary sleeping position. “I have something to ask you,” he said suddenly.

“Sir?”

“If you had known I was the one who saved you from starving to death, would you have let me
go?”

Like a sharp knife, the question pierced Mo Ran’s pained heart and he trembled as he choked with
sobs. He didn’t know how to answer, but he felt Chu Wanning shaking beside him and knew that
his teacher, too, was crying. His heart felt more and more peculiar, and he thought he saw a wisp of
smoke drifting between his chest and Chu Wanning’s, so light that it was nearly invisible.

It flowed endlessly, black one moment and white the next, and he saw that the black substance was
being absorbed into the censer. Mo Ran frowned. He looked at Chu Wanning, but saw that his
teacher had passed out. “Sir,” he said anyway.

Frowning, Mo Ran struggled to his feet. Everything was so painful as if there were two forces
vying for dominance in his heart – black and white, dirty and pure. He lifted the lid of the censer,
seeing the black smoke collected inside coalescing into a heavy black flower. Mo Ran lost
consciousness.

magic incense burners “siphoning the evil out” is not an acceptable substitute for character
development, and if the next shit that happens is Mo Ran being put on trial for being the Evil
Overlord but his past was Magically Removed and he is Now Innocent and it is All So Tragic,
I’m going to reach new heights of annoyed at how shitty this character development is

------

The cultivators who had escaped from Mount Jiao had been healed of the parasite and had their
wounds bandaged, courtesy of the Medical Sect's disciples. Despite the reprieve, a pall hung over
the army. Xue Meng sat on the beach, holding his sword across his lap and watching the waves
rise and fall. Footsteps sounded behind him and he looked up hopefully, only to turn back to the
sea, disappointed.

Mei Hanxue sat beside him. "Your father was suddenly called back to Sisheng Peak," he said. "He
asked me to pass the message." After a pause, he added, "You two don't seem to be getting along."

"Go away," Xue Meng said.

Unfazed, Mei Hanxue held out a flask. "Drink?"

"I'm not that corrupt!" Xue Meng snapped, eyes blazing.

Raising a hand to stroke his golden hair, Mei Hanxue smiled. His pale green eyes flashed in the
light reflected off the silver bell tied to his wrist. "It's just a drink," he said. "Surely your sect
doesn't forbid it. I hear the Constellation Saint is fond of pear blossom white."

Glaring, Xue Meng looked as though he wanted to curse before he grabbed the flask and took a
large mouthful. Before Mei Hanxue could tell him what he was drinking, Xue Meng choked and
spat out half of the liquid without swallowing. He coughed repeatedly.

"Are you bad at drinking?" Mei Hanxue asked mildly. Embarrassed, Xue Meng grabbed the flask
back and chugged. It was even worse than the first time, and he choked on it a second time. Mei
Hanxue blinked. "Never mind," he said. "We don't have to drink."

"Scram," Xue Meng growled.

"Give me my flask back."

"Out." Xue Meng glared, trying to hide his anxiety with anger. "I drink when you say drink, I stop
when you say stop, apparently you think I'm your little bitch." He raised his chin, cheeks already
flushed.

Mei Hanxue, not having spent any time at Sisheng Peak, was unaware of the rumor surrounding
Xue Meng and his teacher; namely that Chu Wanning would stay sober even after a thousand cups
of alcohol, but Xue Meng would get wasted on just one. It therefore failed to distress him that Xue
Meng chugged from the flask a third time, this time managing to swallow everything. He glared
triumphantly at Mei Hanxue.

"And I think that's enough," Mei Hanxue said, adroitly reclaiming his flask. "Time for you to go
back to your room to sleep."

"I'm waiting for someone," Xue Meng said stubbornly. He stared at Mei Hanxue for a long
moment before his face crumpled. "You don't understand," he said. "I have to wait for my cousin,
and my teacher, and Shi Mei. We're supposed to be four. This isn't right."

Unlike comforting a woman - a practice with which Mei Hanxue was intimately familiar - he had
never comforted a man. Fortunately for him, Xue Meng didn't want coddling; he simply wanted to
vent his frustrations. The alcohol had given him the excuse he needed to do it.

ah, toxic masculinity ahoy, in people besides our usual culprits

"I'm the only one left," Xue Meng said. "And it feels shitty. You get that, right?"

"I do," Mei Hanxue said, sighing.

"You're a goddamn liar," Xue Meng told him. Tears ran down his cheeks and he clutched his
sword as if it could embrace him back.

"Okay, you're right, I don't get it," Mei Hanxue said.

"That makes you a heartless asshole," Xue Meng said, glaring furiously. "What part of this is
hard?" He held out his hand. "Four!" Slowly and deliberately, he bent three of his fingers down
until only one was left. "This is me. Do you get it now?"
Concluding there was no reasoning with the apparently intoxicated Xue Meng, Mei Hanxue
decided that discretion was the better part of valor. He kept his mouth shut. Xue Meng, after a
moment, looked over at him, and then stared at his face. It was the same expression Mei Hanxue
had seen on women - and some men - when they were lovestruck. It was the first time someone
had worn that expression before leaning over and throwing up.

"What the hell," Mei Hanxue said. "When you were a kid and I gave you vegetables, you'd puke.
Now I give you good wine, and you still puke. You're so picky." He sighed helplessly. "Okay,
okay. Let's get you back to your room to rest. No one wants to see you like this." He reached out to
help Xue Meng stand.

Feeling as if his feet were floating, Xue Meng did not resist being assisted. He let Mei Hanxue
walk him back from the beach, through the back door of the courtyard, and into the corridor.
Before they reached Xue Meng's room, Mei Hanxue felt the air fill with ominous qi. He pulled
Xue Meng back roughly, hiding at a corner, and Xue Meng yelped in surprise. Mei Hanxue
covered his mouth to keep him quiet.

"Hush," he said, pale green eyes narrowed.

"I have to throw up again," Xue Meng muttered.

"Don't," Mei Hanxue said sharply. Afraid Xue Meng would cause trouble, he cast a silencing spell
on him and turned his face to the side. Then he glanced around the corner again, only to see Mo
Ran.

Most of the sect leaders and elders had gone back to their respective sects in order to reinforce their
own territories in the face of Mount Jiao's dramatic change. They had left many injured cultivators
behind, largely gathered in a single large room. It was here that the man resembling Mo Ran stood,
gaze sweeping across the many faces full of fear.

"So many familiar faces," he said. "I didn't think I would see you all here alive."

"Mo Weiyu!" shouted one of the wounded, braver than the rest. "What are you doing?"

"I don't think I like your tone," Mo Ran said thoughtfully, and

Black light flashed outward. Blood gushed from the chest of the cultivator who had spoken. A
commotion broke out among the wounded, someone shouting for Sect Leader Jiang and others
hurling imprecations.

"Sect Leader Jiang?" Mo Ran said. "He'll always rank in the top ten of people I've killed."

It seemed to Mei Hanxue that something was seriously wrong; Mo Ran did not seem like the same
person he knew. This man was full of resentment and gave off a baleful aura. And yet, he
resembled Mo Ran exactly in face and voice. In the parlor, one of the elders of Lonemoon Night
was trying to assess Mo Ran for possible curses, but he was interrupted.

"You old fool," Mo Ran said, eyes narrowed. "Stop being so presumptuous." He grinned. "But if
you really want to see some healing, I can make that happen." Dark energy filled the hall, blood
spattering in all directions, and the wounded began to scream. Mo Ran straightened his robes and
returned to the center of the hall, looking at the growing piles of scattered body parts with bright
eyes. "So," he said to the elder. "I've given you a lot of patients to treat. Happy?"

"Mo Weiyu," gasped the elder.

"Congratulations," Mo Ran said, with a smile full of teeth, and then he walked away from the
group of dying cultivators. He paused. "Oh, right, I nearly forgot. The Upper Cultivation World
needs to die. Tell your sect leaders I'm on my way to burn them to the ground."

One of the wounded, brave or perhaps just crazed, spoke hoarsely. "Mo Ran, if you had the balls to
take on a sect leader, you wouldn't be here slaughtering the wounded instead!"

Cackling, Mo Ran threw back his head. "Balls? I'll rip all of yours off. None of you can stand
against me."

"Are you in league with Hua Binan?" the cultivator demanded. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Want?" Mo Ran asked slowly. "What do I want?" He closed his eyes, face alight with a strange
glow. "Even I don't know the answer to that," he said. "And no one can give it to me. I don't think I
actually want anything." He suddenly smiled. "Well, maybe one thing." He opened his eyes. "To
watch you die." He laughed wildly, gaze sweeping across deathly pale faces. "Ah, I've missed
this."

I do appreciate the ludicrously over the top mustache-twirling cackling villainy

"Mo Ran, you've lost it," someone breathed.

"You keep saying that." His smile tightened, and he flickered. Mo Ran reappeared behind the
speaker, shattering his skull and splattering his brains. He looked over the gathered crowd, blood
and brain covering his handsome face. "But you know, me not being crazy would have spoiled
your plans." He glared at the crowd like a bird of prey, not even bothering to look at the body of
the man he had killed. "Okay. I've killed enough idiots today." The corner of his mouth twitched up
and he casually nudged the corpse aside. "You can live for a few days, but I'll come back when I
get bored again."

With a burst of loud laughter, Mo Ran slowly walked out of the hall. He glanced at the crowd
when he reached the door, smiling a dark and secret smile. The hall was silent after he left, except
for the sound of dripping fluid.

Three days after their entry into the cave, Mo Ran and Chu Wanning lay still unconscious under
the effects of the spell cast on the censer. Black smoke and blood gushed out of the instrument, a
shrill scream echoing through the cave. Mo Ran opened his eyes and sat up. No pain or injury was
left in his heart, and the mysterious smoke that had connected him to Chu Wanning was gone.

let's talk about dehydration, elimination, and the decubitus ulcers that inevitably result from
such a prolonged period of immobility, shall we

"Sir!" Mo Ran shouted, bolting upright. Only then did he see that a third person had entered the
cave.

The mysterious individual stood in front of the stone table, facing away from Mo Ran. He was
carefully examining the censer, slender and indescribably beautiful from behind. He lifted the lid,
taking out thousands of flowers with one slender, white hand and placing them in his palm. "How
thorough the destruction," he said softly, and crushed the black blossoms into powder. The white
light coiled around him, as if it could understand him. "I left a piece of my soul here so I could find
it again," the man added.

"Who are you?" Mo Ran asked.

"Oh, you're awake." The man smiled. "Who do you think I am?"

Although his voice sounded very familiar, Mo Ran couldn't place it. He was still dazed with sleep,
and his thoughts were slow. He looked at the remains of the flower, and laboriously worked out
that Lonemoon Night's greatest specialty was in refining medicinal plants. "Hua Binan?" he said,
and was inexplicably reminded of Shi Mei.

The person turned around, the unparalleled beauty of his face lighting the cave. His long hair was
tied high on his head, and fine embroidery graced his headband. His peach-blossom eyes were
bright and clear. His body language, jarringly, was strong and confident.

"Shi Mei?" Mo Ran said, mouth falling open.

"Ran, why are you surprised to see me?" the peerless beauty said.

Shaking so hard he couldn't think, Mo Ran stared. He had no idea what was going on, or why Shi
Mei was making a strange face at him. Finally he remembered something. "Your eyes," he said.

"I'm not injured," Shi Mei said, walking toward Mo Ran. "I came to meet the person I love. Who
wants a blind man?"

A black cloud pressed down on Mo Ran's mind, making it hard to think. "What happened to the
Cold Scale Sacred Hand?" he demanded. He had sudden sympathy for Xue Meng in his previous
life, having been betrayed by someone he trusted. "Where is he?" Mo Ran asked again.

"There's no rush to explain," Shi Mei said, stepping forward until he was within arm's reach. He
laughed. "I still want to talk about my heart with the person I love."

"What is there to talk about, between you and me?" Mo Ran asked, livid.

The corners of Shi Mei's eyes were soft as he smiled. "We don't have much to talk about, that's
true, given our respective repulsive natures." He sashayed past Mo Ran, stopping in front of Chu
Wanning. He gently reached down to touch Chu Wanning's face. "Sir," he said. "He hurt you,
didn't he. What a pity. But then again, you might get your memories back."

Mo Ran suddenly thought Shi Mei's beauty was poisonous, and he didn't know what his former
beloved was doing. Shi Mei pointed a slender, pale finger at Chu Wanning's sleeping form. He
smiled, and Mo Ran shivered with cold under his anger.

you will recall commentary to the effect of Shi Mei Is Female-Coded, commentary to the
effect of Women Are Either Evil, Martyrs, Or Ineffectual, and here we see that these
statements are supported by this revelation, thank you

"I want you to get your memories back," Shi Mei said. "I can't figure out why you did some of
what you did." He paused. "You calculated everything in your previous life, bullied your disciple,
did such terrible things. And yet, I still love you." He glanced at Mo Ran, then leaned over to kiss
Chu Wanning on the cheek. "Why am I in love with you, my good teacher?"

------

Mo Ran froze, unable to process through his shock the horror of Shi Mei kissing Chu Wanning. He
considered briefly that he was hallucinating the scene before him, Shi Mei's warm smile from the
distant past swimming through his mind. The person in front of him, who had affectionately called
him by his first name, was in love with Chu Wanning. Mo Ran couldn't understand it; Shi Mei had
never given any indication that he had harbored such feelings. It would have been more believable,
Mo Ran thought, coming from even Xue Meng. Shi Mei had always been scrupulously polite, had
never lingered - Mo Ran couldn't believe it.

"You seem concerned," Shi Mei said, straightening.

"You're being ridiculous," Mo Ran said faintly.

"Ridiculous?" Shi Mei shook his head. "Which of us put him in this state?"

Mo Ran flushed with anger, torn between the remnants of his love for Shi Mei and his furious
indignation. He couldn't begin to answer. Shi Mei had no such compunction.

"Well," he said. "It's not like I haven't done stupid things. I pretended I liked you, I was kind to you
for years." He snorted. "As if I would fall in love with someone like you." At Mo Ran's silence, Shi
Mei sneered. Even with the ugly expression, he was still beautiful.

Furious, Mo Ran started to summon his holy weapon, but it wouldn't manifest. Shi Mei didn't even
look up at the short-lived scarlet flash. Mo Ran shook his hand, but nothing happened.

"Don't bother," Shi Mei said. "Wanning used half his soul to set this up, so it would pull the Flower
of Everlasting Hatred out of you. You won't be influenced by it anymore, but you'll need at least
ten days to recover your qi."

i see we ARE going the incredibly lazy route of It Wasn't His Fault, but at this point we know
perfectly well we're not going to have actual character development; author would much
rather exonerate her characters than redeem them

"Who are you calling Wanning?" Mo Ran seethed.

"Oh, please," Shi Mei said. "Like only you're allowed to be in love with him." He chuckled. "Share
the wealth, Ran. Let me have him for once."

Furious, Mo Ran launched himself at Shi Mei. If he couldn't use his qi or holy weapon, he could
still engage in close combat. Shi Mei let go of Chu Wanning and met him move for defensive
move. Still, Shi Mei was no good at offense, Mo Ran knew, and wouldn't be able to defeat him.
Instead, he cheated by calling a spirit to restrain Mo Ran while he grabbed Chu Wanning's
unconscious form and make a run for it.

"Sir!" Mo Ran shouted, barely managing to shake off the cold, sticky snake and give chase.

Standing atop a tree, silhouetted against a bright moon, Shi Mei laughed. "Stop trying so hard."

"Why are you doing this?" Mo Ran panted.

"I hate Shi Mei," Shi Mei said. "And Shi Mingjing. Please call me by my real name." He paused,
smiling. "Hua Binan." He laughed brightly at Mo Ran's shocked face. "Don't go to Lonemoon
Night," he added. "Jiang Xi will tear you to pieces. Be a good boy and go back to Sisheng Peak."

"What are you planning on doing to Sisheng Peak?" Mo Ran demanded.

"You're not an idiot this time around," Shi Mei said. "You'll figure it out."

Sadness and anger warred within him. "Shi Mei," Mo Ran shouted, voice trembling as he clenched
a manly fist. "Why are you doing this? You said we were family! That Sisheng Peak was your
home! Did you lie to me for years?" He froze as something else occurred to him. "Did you do all of
this?"

Instead of answering, Shi Mei smiled from atop his tree. His wide robe and big sleeves fluttered.
He looked like a big-eyed fox, staring at prey.

"You," Mo Ran breathed, mind whirling with chaos. He couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that the
beautiful boy he had admired, the jade-like youth he had fought beside, the beautiful man he had
grown apart from - the man who had said, as he lay dying, that Mo Ran shouldn't hold a grudge -
this was the fiend who had made Mo Ran's life a living hell. "How," he asked dumbly. "You were
dead."

"You're an idiot," Shi Mei said mockingly. "You look down on the Medical Sect, all of you. It's
hard to bring a corpse back, but it's easy to fake death."

Mo Ran would have been able to see the flaws in Shi Mei's words if he had been thinking clearly;
he had seen Shi Mei die, he had put him in a coffin for seven days, and then he had buried him. No
one would have survived such an ordeal, he knew. He would have thought of two possibilities. The
first was that Shi Mei was lying, and the second was that he had snuck into the memorial area to
remove the fake corpse. As shaken as he as, he instead took Shi Mei's words at face value.

The scene he had replayed over and over in his mind - Shi Mei's death in the falling snow - spun
itself out again, this time with full knowledge that it had been false. Mo Ran had wasted years
seeking revenge for something that had never happened, fallen into the depths of depravity for no
reason. It was ridiculous, he thought suddenly, scalp numb with anger and pain and betrayal. "How
can you sound so happy about it?" he asked bitterly.

"My heart is at ease, the Evil Overlord," Shi Mei returned. "Your hands are stained with blood."
He held the unconscious Chu Wanning even tighter, as if gripping a prize. "How could a butcher
like you think to be with someone as pure as the Constellation Saint?"

The blood drained out of Mo Ran's face as Shi Mei continued to taunt him, calling him dirty and
impure. He knew Mo Ran too well, knew exactly which words would hurt him the most, and the
moon peeked out from behind the clouds. Shi Mei raised his chin, triumphant.

he was standing in front of a brightly shining moon five minutes ago but sure, it's overcast
and the moon was hidden

"You know what kind of trash you are, the Evil Overlord," Shi Mei finished. "No matter what
you've done, pretending to be Grandmaster Mo, it doesn't erase your sins. You're pathetic." Mo
Ran gritted his teeth, but Shi Mei wasn't finished. "Now that our teacher has all of his memories,
all of the things you did to him, all the people you killed - he knows about all of it. It's time for you
to admit to your guilt." He smiled with a satisfied air.

Throat working, Mo Ran couldn't bring out any words. He should keep his head down and plead
guilty, Shi Mei had said, but he couldn't help looking at Chu Wanning. He jerked his gaze away.

"He'll be furious when he wakes up, you know." Shi Mei caressed Chu Wanning's cheek, slender
fingers sliding across his lips. "Do you really think he'll forgive you?"

Mo Ran closed his eyes, trembling. He had never asked for or dared to imagine forgiveness, but
Shi Mei's voice lanced through his most secret hope. Shivers wracked his body.

Ethereally serene, Shi Mei looked down at him as if he were a divine Buddha come to advise poor,
unfortunate mortal souls. "Stop chasing me," he said again. "Go to Sisheng Peak and see what I left
for you." His words echoed in the air as he paused for emphasis. "Ran, we're completely different
people. You can't understand what I want." His tone had warmed to friendliness, as if they were
two disciples sitting comfortably at home. "I'm not crazy like you. I wouldn't cause pain without
reason."

"What do you want?" Mo Ran snapped, finally finding his voice.

"Don't worry about our teacher," Shi Mei said. "I'll love him. I won't hurt him. I'll treat him as his
purity deserves."

"You wouldn't taunt me like this if I had any qi," Mo Ran spat venomously, knowing that he would
have torn his traitorous sectmate to pieces if he only had the strength.

Shi Mei chuckled. "You know, you should think of all your fellow disciples at Sisheng Peak. The
elders. Even the heir." He looked around. "If you don't handle my little present properly, they'll die
all over again." He laughed. "And what do you think our teacher would say if he found out you hurt
everyone again?"

------

Mo Ran ground his teeth so hard they nearly shattered. "Shi Mingjing!"

"If you don't leave," Shi Mei said, sleeves fluttering, "our teacher is going to wake up to see us
arguing. He won't be pleased." He paused. "Ran, please call me Hua Binan if we meet again." He
leapt lightly into the air, and disappeared into the dense forest. His cold laughter lingered in the air,
and Mo Ran screamed after him.

Under the cover of the mist, Shi Mei faced resolutely forward. His heart was overflowing with joy,
like a hunter returning home with a harvest, but then he heard Chu Wanning groan Mo Ran's name.
Shi Mei's happy expression froze briefly and then melted into cold anger.

"What's so good about him?" he muttered, but Chu Wanning was still unconscious. Despite his
stupor, he still kept muttering Mo Ran's name, and Shi Mei stopped running. Hesitating for a long
moment, Shi Me stared at Chu Wanning's face. "Stop thinking about him," he said, frustrated.
"You should love me, instead. Although it's okay if it takes a while. I have time." He leapt into the
air again to keep running, leaping onto his sword.

Shi Mei arrived at Rufeng Sect's burial ground late at night, flying over the moonlight shining
across the graves disturbed by Nangong Xu. Corpses were strewn across the ground. Shi Mei used
stored Nangong blood to open the gate, finding Nangong Liu standing blankly at the foot of the
mountain. The former sect leader wasn't a complete chess piece, Shi Mei knew, as he still
possessed some of his own qi. He didn't need to be killed, Shi Mei decided; he could still be useful,
and with the mind of a five-year-old, he posed no threat.

"My brother, you're back," Nangong Liu said, smiling.

As Nangong Xu had once considered Shi Mingjing to be his best friend, Nangong Liu had always
regarded him as a brother. Shi Mei froze to hear the man address him so. "Don't call me that," he
said.

I'm sorry, when in the last 500,000 words did we establish that Shi Mei and Nangong Xu
were good friends

"You don't like it?" Nangong Liu said blankly.

"Call me Hua Binan," Shi Mei said darkly. "Open the path for me."

"Where are we going, dear friend?"

Deciding it wasn't worth arguing with someone with the mentality of a child, Shi Mei answered,
"To Nangong Xu's secret room."

The room was less of a secret and more of a well-defended space requiring more fresh blood than
Shi Mei had on hand. He adjusted Chu Wanning's weight in his arms, and followed Nangong Liu.
After a few moments, the former sect leader looked around. "Are you bringing a friend to spend the
night?" he asked.

"Overnight?" Shi Mei smiled, pleased. "Something like that. I think he'll stay for a long, long
time."

"Who is he?" Nangong Liu asked curiously.

"I can't tell," Shi Mei laughed, and then laughed harder at the disgustingly childlike expression on
Nangong Liu's middle-aged face.

ah, a whiff of ablism to drop into the rest of the bullshit

The door of the chamber was open and lit by a lamp when they arrived, and the room was quiet. It
contained only a single bed covered with a saber-toothed tiger skin and a white veil. A small table
covered in brocade was next to the bed, and the walls were unadorned. Shi Mei placed Chu
Wanning on the bed and sat next to him, staring at his face. The single candle illuminated his face.

lamp or candle, make up your damn mind

While sleeping, Chu Wanning's face was haggard but his eyes were full of vigor. Shi Mei didn't
care; he was thrilled that he had defeated Chu Wanning and Mo Ran after two lifetimes, and that he
had taken Chu Wanning as his prize. His plan was finally coming to fruition. As he basked in the
sense of victory, he was disturbed by Nangong Liu's footsteps.

"He looks familiar," Nangong Liu said.

"Do you know who he is?"

"I can't remember."

"He treated you very badly," Shi Mei told him. "You just don't remember it."

Unable to understand, Nangong Liu tilted his head and looked curiously at Chu Wanning. "He's so
handsome. I'm sure he would be kind."

"He's Emperor Evil Overlord's favorite concubine. Of course he's handsome." Shi Mei's smile
deepened; he knew that the childlike man had no idea what a concubine was, but it didn't matter.
"He has a bad temper," he added. "Get some oranges for him, or he'll be very angry when he wakes
up."

Nangong Liu nodded and started to leave, but hesitated when he reached the door. "Do you know
when his majesty will return?" he asked.

Knowing full well that Nangong Xu was dead, Shi Mei smiled. "Be good and obey me," he said.
"His majesty will be home soon."
Nangong Liu's eyes lit up and he scampered out the door to collect the oranges. Shi Mei watched
him go, laughing, and then turned back to Chu Wanning. He caressed his teacher's cheeks.

"Most people are like him," he said. "Pure as children and dirty as they grow up, unworthy of your
protection." He traced Chu Wanning's handsome face and sighed. "Why do you work so hard for
them?"

The sleeping Chu Wanning did not reply. Shi Mei's past life, he thought, had been full of pain and
suffering. He sat quietly for a moment, and then dew a bottle of Tapir Fragrance Dew from his
pouch.

"This is for you," he said. "I know you'll have nightmares, but I asked them to sell this at
Xuanyuan Pavilion so you could buy it. You see how much better I am at taking care of you? I
made sure you'd feel good without anyone getting suspicious, but all he can do is fight."

Shi Mei poured the dew into a small cup and fed it to Chu Wanning. He set the cup down and
basked in his hard-earned victory for a moment, until his eyes suddenly lit up. He rummaged
through his pouch until he withdrew a black silk ribbon. He bound his teacher's eyes and cast an
enchantment to ensure it would remain, then pinched Chu Wanning's chin affectionately.

"Beautiful," he said. "No wonder Mo Ran liked to tie you up." Shi Mei's gentle smile was
unchanged as he slowly caressed Chu Wanning's face again, fingers lingering on the ribbon.
"Wake up quickly, sir," he said softly. "I've thought of a fascinating game for us to play together."

------

Lying on the bed, Chu Wanning drifted in and out of consciousness. He heard two people
quarreling, who might have been Shi Mei and Mo Ran, but then if faded into the whistling of the
wind. He resurfaced lying on a warm quilt, hearing someone’s indistinct voice and the words past
life. He thought it might have been Shi Mei, but the voice and the words faded like morning mist.

The memories of his past, on the other hand, were slowly clarifying. He dreamed of a serene
corridor in Sisheng Peak, in Red Lotus Pavilion, full of vines and flowers under drifting snow. He
sat at a porch, writing a letter, and knew that the Evil Overlord would never let him send it.
Loneliness and boredom ate at him, writing a letter to Xue Meng that would never be read the only
solace throughout the long afternoon.

Within the memory, he nostalgically recalled spending days with his young, promising disciples,
teaching them to write poetry. Mo Ran had been the worst at it, he thought with a smile. Later, the
wind blew purple blossoms onto his letter, and he couldn’t bear to brush them aside as he
continued to write. His gaze softened with the pleasant memories, but the wind picked up and
scattered his papers across the courtyard.

One by one, they fluttered onto the grass, the stone steps, and the withered leaves. Chu Wanning
sighed and got up to collect them. As he reached for one, a distinctive hand appeared to pluck it
away from his reaching grasp.

“What are you writing?”

“Nothing,” Chu Wanning said, hiding his shock at the sight of the Evil Overlord dressed in a black
robe and wearing a crown. He had been in the court, Chu Wanning thought, and his face was cold.
“It’s a letter ,” he said.

“Oh?” Mo Ran said, raising his eyes. Chu Wanning tried to reclaim it, but Mo Ran moved out of
his reach and scanned the paper. “To Xue Meng?” he said, too calmly.

“It’s nothing,” Chu Wanning said again. “I wasn’t going to send it.”

“You couldn’t even if you wanted to,” Mo Ran sneered.

Not wanting to participate in this idiotic farce, Chu Wanning returned to his table, but the Evil
Overlord followed. His robes fluttered as he put a hand down on the papers Chu Wanning was
trying to clear away. Chu Wanning changed direction and reached for another one, but the Evil
Overlord blocked that one, too. “What do you want?” Chu Wanning finally snapped.

The Evil Overlord regarded him with a deeply serene gaze, picked up the letter, and began to read
it aloud in a mocking tone. “Beautiful poetry,” he said, pausing. “Perhaps, sir, you could teach me
what it means. As you are my teacher after all. Sir.”

The aggression pained Chu Wanning’s heart, and he closed his eyes. The Evil Overlord became
irritated, picking up pieces of paper and reading them one by one. He glared at the lines, getting
more and more annoyed the more he read. The man who hadn’t had the education to properly
name his years of reign, stymied by a simple letter, flung them maliciously to the ground.

“You miss him,” he accused.

“No,” Chu Wanning said, and tried to leave. Mo Ran grabbed him by the chin, yanked him back,
and shoved him onto the table. His grip was tight enough to leave a bruise on Chu Wanning’s
cheek, his handsome and pale face reflected in Chu Wanning’s eyes. He had no sense of shame,
immediately tearing at Chu Wanning’s clothes right out in the open.

“Mo Weiyu!” Chu Wanning roared in protest, but it did no good. The Evil Overlord ravished him
atop the stone table, painfully and bloodily.

“You’re not a teacher,” Mo Ran hissed. “You’re just a concubine, spreading your legs for me.”

He flipped Chu Wanning over, and the lines of poetry Chu Wanning had written swam before his
eyes. Every word struck his heart, recalling the memory of the innocent, teenage Mo Ran as the
monster behind him violated him. He gritted his teeth and endured the mocking as Mo Ran read
over his shoulder to the rhythm of his thrusts.

After a long moment of absurdity, Mo Ran finally let him go. His clothes were in disarray, stained
with ink and his bitten lips stained with blood. Chu Wanning slowly dressed himself, mourning the
loss of his spiritual core and his inability to change his situation. Mo Ran sat at the table
nonchalantly, still reading, until Chu Wanning had finished. Then he put the stack of letters into
his robes and stood.

“Let’s go,” he said, the gold threads glowing splendidly on his dark robes.

“I taught you what those lines meant, before,” Chu Wanning said suddenly. “When I taught you to
write. But you’ve forgotten.”

“You taught me to write?” Mo Ran frowned. “When?”

“It was a long time ago,” Chu Wanning said, and walked toward the house.

are we going to pretend Mo Ran “forgot” the Good Memories because Magic Smoke? At no
point in 500K words has this detail been foreshadowed, which makes this a very poorly
executed Plot Twist
 Mo Ran did not follow him, and Chu Wanning saw him standing by the table for several minutes
before withdrawing the letters and flipping through them again. He closed the window, already
feeling the chill from having been stripped naked outside. That night was painful, and Chu
Wanning lay awake listening to the heavy rain.

In the midst of the downpour, someone came to the Red Lotus Pavilion with instructions for
Grandmaster Chu to move his sleeping quarters. Chu Wanning wondered what the point was for
Mo Ran to insist that everyone address him still as Grandmaster, when they all knew what Mo Ran
was doing to him, and he thought it was probably mockery. He looked at the messenger. “No,” he
said.

“His majesty,” started the messenger, and explained that Mo Ran had stormed to the Red Lotus
Pavilion after Song Qiutong had made him wontons; he had been in an inexplicable poor mood, the
messenger said, and had taken it out on Chu Wanning.

“No.” Chu Wanning was betting that Mo Ran wouldn’t force him to do anything when he was
already becoming ill, but the dismissed servant returned.

Standing in front of the shivering, coughing Chu Wanning, the servant bowed apologetically. “His
majesty requires that the Grandmaster attend him in Wushan Palace. In his bed.”

------

With no other choice, Chu Wanning donned his fox-fur cloak and picked up his umbrella to go to
Wushan Palace’s main hall. The ninety-nine lights shone brilliantly, like rivers of stars, and the
servants inside lowered their faces respectfully as he entered. Face blank, Chu Wanning walked
through the side entrance and toward the lacquered door in the back of the hall.

Inside, it was very warm and reeked of wine. Mo Ran lazed on the couch, drinking from a red clay
teapot. “You’re here,” he said. “Sit.”

Chu Wanning sat on the mat farthest from Mo Ran, closing his eyes. Already drunk, Mo Ran
stayed where he was. He looked steadily at Chu Wanning and tapped his fingers on his knee.

“Do you know how to cook wontons?” he asked suddenly.

“No,” Chu Wanning said.

“You did once,” Mo Ran insisted. “The year that – that he left.”

“You were right, back then.” Chu Wanning kept his face smooth. “It was a mistake. I can’t do it.”

“Are you trying to remind me how much I hate you?”

“No.”

“If I ordered you to make them now, would you do it?” Mo Ran regarded him angrily.

“If I did,” Chu Wanning said, lifting his chin coldly, “would you eat them?”

Face flushing in anger, Mo Ran gnashed his teeth and flung the jar to the floor. He stood
maliciously, striding across the broken pottery to grab Chu Wanning by the collar. “You and Song
Qiutong,” he ground out. “You both let me down.”

Letting go, he stalked back and forth, pacing like an eagle. Suddenly he stopped walking, fixing
Chu Wanning with an unsteady gaze. He pulled a paper from inside his robes and waved it toward
Chu Wanning.

“When did you teach me about this poetry, and why can’t I remember?” He grabbed Chu
Wanning’s wrist with a cold hand, pulling him to a desk. “Teach me again,” he demanded, pointing
at a pile of books.

Already feverish, Chu Wanning felt fury rising in his throat. He nearly choked on it, and coughed
instead. Mo Ran jiggled the pen in his hand impatiently.

“Write,” he said. “Hurry.”

With his spirit core broken in their previous fight, Chu Wanning’s body was weak. He coughed
again, this time spattering the desk with blood. Mo Ran stared, stunned, and let go of his wrist.

“Fine,” he said. “It’s nothing, anyway.”

Chu Wanning got his coughing under control. “You used to use this line in the beginning of every
letter,” he said, pointing. “Seeing your letter is as good as seeing you,” he recited. “But you haven’t
written letters in a long time.”

“I never wrote letters,” Mo Ran snapped. “Who would I have written to? No.” He paused. “You’re
lying.”

no foreshadowing of this at ALL, it comes out of absolutely NOWHERE, oh my fucking god

Chu Wanning’s heart fell at those words. A vague feeling that something was wrong stirred, but
Mo Ran was drunk and hadn’t had the best memory for lessons when he was a teenager. He
frowned, and didn’t answer, but Mo Ran was now fixated. He dragged out the letter box in the
study, containing all the letters that had been written at Sisheng Peak.

well that’s a very convenient thing to have handy

Opening the box, Mo Ran began to read the letters. Most had been written by disciples, and they
were arranged by which elder was responsible for the disciples. The Constellation Saint, having
had only three disciples, had a surprisingly thick stack of letters. Mo Ran seized it. Trembling, he
tore them open.

Every letter started with the line Seeing your letter is as good as seeing you, seeing your
comforting face. Mo Ran’s hands shook harder. The paper tore under his hands as his face lit with a
strange glow.

The look on Mo Ran's face as he looked over the letters disturbed Chu Wanning; he couldn't help
but look at his former student as he flipped through old letters with a crazed edge to his manner.
Chu Wanning began to feel fear, a glimmering that there was something wrong. He walked over
slowly, studying Mo Ran's expression closely, trying to figure out what wasn't right.

so many things but ok

"My mother is dead," Mo Ran muttered. "Why would I write to her?"

The fear in Chu Wanning's heart grew, and he thought about how strange it was that Mo Ran had
forgotten the words he used to start every letter. Mo Ran was still reading, confusion evident in his
eyes, as if he was missing important memories. Chu Wanning felt something in his heart crack
open. He held his breath for a moment in the nearly silent room. "Don't you remember?" he said
softly. "You said you wanted to write to you mother after she died because it made you feel closer
to her." Mo Ran raised his head sharply at that. "The first name you learned to write wasn't yours,"
Chu Wanning added.

Lightning flashed dramatically outside, followed by the sound of thunder. The mournfully howling
wind sounded like ghosts clawing at the window to underscore Chu Wanning's epiphany as
Emperor Evil Overlord muttered that he had no memory of Chu Wanning's lessons. The blood
drained from Chu Wanning's face and his heart beat frantically against his ribs.

"You don't remember?" he asked carefully.

'Remember what?" Mo Ran said.

Chu Wanning's heart froze in his chest as fear swept through him in a flood. Mo Ran had, he
remembered, written over three hundred letters to his mother, and there was no way he should have
forgotten. "Do you remember what you said the first time you saw Heavenly Questions?"

"It's been so long ago, how could I?" Mo Ran snapped.

"You said you wanted one, too," Chu Wanning said. "So that you could use it to save the
earthworms."

Emperor Evil Overlord stared blankly, so different from the smiling young man who had been
saving small creatures. "What earthworms?"

i feel like this is supposed to be Shocking but it just feels heavy-handed and drawn out for no
reason - this should have been seeded over multiple chapters before having The Reveal
instead of putting the entire extended sequence in a single chapter

Thunder and lightning continued to pierce the sky, and Chu Wanning pursed his quivering lips. A
chill coursed through him. Mo Ran didn't touch him that night, pacing back and forth and re-
reading the letters. He muttered about the earthworms until he fell asleep. Chu Wanning remained
awake, listening to the storm, and the wind blew the window open with a bang. The few lights
blew out, plunging the room into darkness.

Standing by Mo Ran's side, Chu Wanning felt chilled. He looked down at the sleeping man, the
uncertainty in his mind clarifying into a specific question: why was Mo Ran forgetting specific
memories? Chu Wanning felt that the kindness in his heart had been erased, and the question was
whether or not it had been deliberate. He walked to the window, closing it to block out the storm,
and pressed his forehead against the window carved in the pattern of a Bat-Deer.

After a long moment, Chu Wanning pulled a crumpled talisman from his sleeve. Because he no
longer had a spiritual core, Mo Ran thought he couldn't use enchantments. Chu Wanning's
talismans hadn't been taken away. Chu Wanning dripped a small amount of blood on the
Ascending Dragon Talisman, and the little animal floated listlessly out. Emitting a weak sigh, it
looked at him.

The creature was too weak to walk, collapsing on the table. "Long time no see," it said. "Why
aren't you giving me any more qi?"

"It's a long story," Chu Wanning said, gently picking up the small dragon. "Please do something
for me."

"You keep sending me on wild goose chases," the little dragon sighed. "What do you want now?"
Chu Wanning carried the dragon to the sleeping Mo Ran. "Please see if he has had any incantations
cast upon him."

It was impossible, Chu Wanning thought, that the kind and brilliant youth had become such a
demon. As his teacher, he had to have suspicions, he thought, after he had seen his formerly
obedient disciple kill so many people he had loved. The man in front of him was bloodstained, and
it broke Chu Wanning's heart - how could he not, he thought, feel as though there was something
wrong? Chu Wanning knew that Mo Ran wasn't this sort of person.

In addition to being poorly structured, this also feels like cheap absolution for both Mo Ran
(nothing was his fault!) and for Chu Wanning (he wasn't a bad judge of character after all!),
and essentially makes character development for the entire story meaningless.

The little dragon returned, painting a spell on the paper in front of him. Chu Wanning was shocked
to see that Mo Ran had had a love spell cast on him. The little dragon dissolved into smoke,
disappearing into the talisman again. Chu Wanning clutched the piece of paper, feeling as though
the ground had tilted under his feet. However, the longer he looked at it, the longer he felt that
something was not right.

how many times are we going to repeat Something Is Wrong What Could It Be

The spell was written upside down.

------

Mo Ran had no memories the next day of what had happened while he had been drunk, but Chu
Wanning couldn't forget. He waited, confirming his theory with casual questions, trying to
determine the extent of Mo Ran's amnesia. It took him a long time. In the meantime, he searched
for the incantation the little candle dragon had written, finally coming across the symbol in a rare
book.

"Eight Sufferings and Everlasting Hatred." He traced the incantation on the scroll, which precisely
matched what the dragon had drawn. It was a dark heart, easy to mistake for a simple love charm,
but a single stroke had been reversed. The effects of the spell corresponded to what Chu Wanning
had observed, when he finally managed to decipher the ancient tome with its unfamiliar medical
terms. He had to read it slowly, drawing out his horrified reaction.

"Gouchen the Exalted brought the seed to the human world from the demon realm," Chu Wanning
read. The illustration was of a strange seed, a drop of blood, and a wisp of smoke. "The seed must
be nurtured with demonic blood for ten years, then fused with part of the caster's soul." Chu
Wanning shook his head. "There are no more pure demons."

It seemed as though it were a minor hurdle, and he kept reading. A flower was drawn, in full bloom
with heavy petals, and it was written that it would only flower in the human heart. Chu Wanning's
shock deepened, but there was more to come. The victim of the flower would progress through
three stages of disease - the first stage was characterized by anxiety and paranoia, but the flower
could be easily suppressed. It was difficult to remove, but with care, it would not affect the victim.
The second and third stages were more serious.

this is a hanahaki story? are you fucking kidding me?

The second stage would begin no less than eight years after the flower had been implanted,
precipitated by a major emotional shock, and it was characterized by a slow loss of all positive
memories. The victim would hyperfocus on obstacles and frustrations, and on remembered
negative experiences. The eight-fold suffering of life would be intensified in the victim's memories.
Chu Wanning's face was as white as snow as he continued to read, feeling that this described Mo
Ran's behavior precisely.

The wishes and dreams of Mo Ran's youth had been forgotten, the letters he had written, his love
for his mother. Chu Wanning continued to read. The third stage, he found, was characterized by
irrationally violent bloodthirstiness, in which the victim would retaliate a thousand-fold for slights
suffered in the past. Chu Wanning thought of Mo Ran's crazed eyes as he slaughtered Rufeng Sect,
how he had laughed at cries for mercy. At the time, Chu Wanning had been stunned with disbelief,
but now he knew what had truly happened.

The effect of the flower could not have been countered; it had wound its way into Mo Ran's heart
slowly over the years. It had amplified the negative emotion that had already been there, it was
true, destroying any hope the victim had of controlling base and violent urges. The victims were
therefore still regarded with hatred and suspicion, as it was their own urges and tendencies that
were exaggerated and acted upon, and it was very rare that a curse was even suspected.

Removal of the flower in the second or third stage, Chu Wanning read, was nearly impossible. It
took several long moments for his emotions to subside, and he didn't know what they were. He sat
on the library floor, warm afternoon sun failing to dispel the chills in his heart. He looked at the
passage again, the section about removing or suppressing the flower in the first stage catching his
eye again. He read it over and over again, focusing on the words the host will not lose his heart.

Without his realizing it, tears began to flow down his face and drip on the scroll. He turned his
face to hide them, understanding that his deep attachment to his reputation had allowed matters to
progress so far. He had been so absorbed in upholding his own image that he had failed to see the
signs in Mo Ran. He was supposed to be the Holy Grace Immortal, the Constellation Saint, and yet
he had not realized that his own student had been infected by a demonic flower. He had driven him
away instead. Chu Wanning knew he didn't have the right to be called Mo Ran's teacher.

yes, chu wanning, make your reaction all about you. second, the Emotional Shock was 4 years
after he met Mo Ran, meaning that Mo Ran had been in Stage One for four years when he
got to Sisheng Peak and Chu Wanning never met him (except for that one time he saved him
from starving and we have established that he didn't know that was Mo Ran) when he wasn't
infected, so there was no way for him to have seen this coming, but no, he will wail in self-pity
that he didn't do the literal impossible, what a fucking self-centered asshole, these two
narcissistic dicks deserve each other

Chu Wanning writhed in the agony of his failures; he had known Mo Ran for years, and he had
seen his student start off as a shy, brilliant teenager. He had been swallowed by darkness, bit by bit,
and Chu Wanning had never suspected a thing. He was truly unworthy of being called a teacher, he
castigated himself. Somehow he composed himself enough to leave the library and return to the
Red Lotus Pavilion before he crumpled under the purple vines to sit alone in shock. The sky
darkened above him as he stared into nothing, and finally a person entered his field of vision.

Broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, the man carried a lantern as he walked slowly toward the
pavilion. Chu Wanning saw the handsome youth from his memory overlapping the monster from
the present, remembering that his student had been the first person to bring him wine. He had
presented his teacher with a jug of pear blossom white in thanks for his instruction, with money he
had earned through Chu Wanning's teachings. He had even promised to bring Chu Wanning more,
a paragon of kindness and generosity.

did we not establish that he was already infected with the damn flower
Chu Wanning had told him not to waste his money, projecting an aura of cold indifference, but he
had been secretly delighted. He had to prevent Mo Ran from thinking that he could be won over by
a simple gesture, he had thought at the time. Instead of being deterred, Mo Ran had simply offered
him cake as well as wine, happily planning to ply his teacher with the things that he loved out of
the goodness of his heart. Then, disaster struck.

Chu Wanning had choked on the wine, but he couldn't let Mo Ran see him cough. Instead, he grew
redder and redder as his eyes watered with the effort of holding it in, and Mo Ran grew concerned.
"Sir," he said gently. "Are you crying because this is the first time someone brought you a drink?"

How, Chu Wanning had thought at the time, had the situation deteriorated so far out of his control,
but Mo Ran had continued to gaze upon him with sympathy. He had told Chu Wanning the story of
how his life had been saved once with a pot of sweet rice porridge, the first time anyone had ever
bought him food. He held Chu Wanning's hand sympathetically as he spoke.

"Sir," he said earnestly. "I'll buy you some candy."

The teenager who had never been to school properly or been taught how to behave, the boy who
spoke strangely and didn't understand how to properly use words - this was the generous and gentle
child who had scalded Chu Wanning's heart with his considerate actions. He finally coughed
uncomfortably, when he had been able to breathe again. "You don't need to do such nonsensical
things," he said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, sir."

Hesitating, Chu Wanning finally asked, "Why did you pick me as your teacher?"

The Evil Overlord poked Chu Wanning in the forehead, interrupting his trip down memory lane.
"What are you doing?" he asked.

The man before him was no longer the gentle youth he had been; he was still handsome, but pale
and sinister with eagle-like eyes. Chu Wanning suddenly felt very tired, overwhelmed with loss and
pain. He was so conflicted that he did not know how to act, so he turned around. The Evil
Overlord's cold hand grabbed his chin and pulled him back, the last light of the setting sun
reflecting from his eyes.

"Are you still angry?" he asked.

"No," Chu Wanning replied hoarsely.

"Then you can drink with me," Mo Ran said, letting him go.

Someone had infected Mo Ran with the poisonous flower, Chu Wanning realized. Deceptively
tranquil, Sisheng Peak was in danger. He couldn't let the unknown enemy know that he had
discovered their dastardly plan. He made himself remain calm.

"Your favorite," Mo Ran was saying. "Pear blossom white."

The fragrance drifted out, reminding Chu Wanning that it was the first alcohol he had ever had. He
looked at Mo Ran pouring the wine, knowing that his student would forget this pleasant interlude
under the influence of the evil flower growing in his heart. Dull pain suffused Chu Wanning's heart
and he downed the entire cup in one gulp. He coughed as the alcohol hit his throat, and Mo Ran
glanced at him, startled.

"Something wrong, sir?" he asked sarcastically.

Chu Wanning knew only that he had to endure; he couldn't broadcast the truth, he couldn't identify
the person who had hurt his student, he couldn't remove the flower. He closed his eyes and
demanded another cup, gulping that one as well. He thought of how the teenage Mo Ran had
smiled at him, telling him that he seemed kind and gentle and that was why he had chosen Chu
Wanning as his teacher.

The eight sufferings of life - birth, aging, sickness, death, parting from loved ones, not obtaining
desire, meeting those one dislikes, and the five components of body and soul - those were all
amplified by the cursed flower. He had missed all the opportunities to see the truth, and the gentle
youth he had known would never return. He lay beside the Evil Overlord that night, feeling as
though all of his past resentment was unfounded, that Mo Ran was not to blame for his vicious
actions, and yet there was nothing Chu Wanning could do.

how long are we going to repeat Oh No Chu Wanning Is Helpless before he Heroically
Hatches A Plan

Without knowing who might be watching, Chu Wanning couldn't tell anyone the truth. If he started
to show the slightest hint of mercy or gentleness, it would give him away. All he could do was to
die with a cold heart. Only in the depths of the night when Mo Ran was asleep, could Chu wanning
caress his pale face and apologize that he had failed to protect his student.

paranoia is a symptom of infection, chu wanning. but seriously, it does not follow logically
that if he acts differently around mo ran in private, that whoever infected mo ran would
notice and Do Something; the only reason for it is so that we maintain consistency with his
previously established actions and it is a stupid in-universe reason for it, again, this part of
the plot is very poorly executed

------

Chu Wanning writhed in self-pitying shame that he could do nothing to help Mo Ran, that his
student had become a tyrant cursed by everyone because Chu Wanning had failed to see that he
had been enchanted. He suffered because he couldn't reveal that he knew the truth, felt pain that
the world resented his student for his atrocities and couldn't be told that Mo Ran was actually
innocent. Chu Wanning felt pain, that he couldn't make the world see what a kind man Mo Ran
should have been, only watch him sleep.

Alert even when asleep, the Evil Overlord opened his eyes. "Are you watching me?" he said.

"No," Chu Wanning answered, rolling over.

After a long moment, a warm body embraced him gently from behind. Chu Wanning opened his
eyes as the Evil Overlord spoke. "You're cold and sweaty," he said, and sniffed Chu Wanning's
neck. "Did you have a nightmare? I smell fear."

Instead of answering, Chu Wanning trembled uncontrollably. He felt the guilt and pain too strongly
to control himself. He managed to play it off, eventually, and Mo Ran didn't notice his odd
reactions. He sniffed at Chu Wanning's hair again, petting him reassuringly.

"Why do you smell like flowers even when you're sweating?" he asked. "It's as though you're made
of wood and grass."

that line would have been 100% more effective if it had been placed before the reveal of Chu
Wanning Was Carved From Wood
The expected response was shame and anger, but Chu Wanning didn't answer this time. Mo Ran
flipped him over, firmly pressing down upon him and gazing into his eyes. He completely covered
Chu Wanning's body with his as they looked at each other. The candle burned dimly, and Mo Ran
felt that something was wrong with Chu Wanning. He glared at his teacher's familiar face, unable
to figure out why he felt odd.

"What's wrong with you?" he snapped.

Chu Wanning closed his eyes instead of answering, and now Mo Ran was fully awake. He felt
thrilled; every part of Chu Wanning ignited the desire to conquer him. And yet he still felt uneasy.
He glared at him again.

"What's wrong?" he repeated.

"How did we get where we are today?" Chu Wanning asked in reply, opening his eyes. "If I had
stopped this earlier, would things be different?"

Finding no reason to respond to such laughable thoughts, Mo Ran simply smiled. The man beneath
him was a wife, a concubine, to be dismissed. The rest of the palace was empty, full of the scent of
flowers, and Mo Ran was too relaxed to become angry with his lover's idiocy. He had far more
patience for Chu Wanning than for anyone else, including his wife, and he watched Chu Wanning
with interest. His heart began to itch, burning so hot he thought it was aflame.

"How would you have stopped me?" he asked idly. "By taking my body?"

Chu Wanning only stared back at him, and the Evil Overlord's sexy lethargy began to dissipate. He
hated being tempted, and he acted viciously on his impulses to violate Chu Wanning again. The
effluvia of their previous coupling was still sticky on Chu Wanning's skin, providing enough
lubrication that he could be entered smoothly.

wow that is exactly how it does not work

Despite wanting to respond to Mo Ran's advances, Chu Wanning forced himself to resist; he didn't
have the strength to put up as much of a fight as he usually did, and he found himself making
shameful sounds throughout. It only excited Mo Ran further, and he clumsily tried to be a
considerate lover. It was chaos, Chu Wanning felt, and he knew himself to be utterly helpless for
the first time in his life. He was weak for the first time in his life, and he was loud enough that even
the night guard blushed when he saw Chu Wanning the next day.

"This is only natural," Mo Ran said quietly when he had finished. "I wanted you for so long,
because I hated you for being so cold and high and mighty all of the time. No matter how hard I
worked, you refused to acknowledge me."

Chu Wanning knew that Mo Ran was wrong, that there had been gentleness and a jug of wine
between the flowers, an umbrella in the rain, and a moon in the middle of autumn. He knew that
Mo Ran had forgotten all of it. His heart quailed, because he couldn't remind him.

"Only by breaking you will you be obedient to me," Mo Ran continued. "But seeing you like this is
worth it." His lovemaking grew wilder, in the days after that, even though he knew it would make
Chu Wanning ill.

In the rare instances when he was left to his own devices, Chu Wanning tried to figure out who had
poisoned his student and what the master plan was. He wasn't willing to accept that the Flower of
Everlasting-Hatred couldn't be removed, once the third stage had been reached, and he refused to
accept fate. Time passed, with very little progress made on any front; he had no qi and no one to
help him, but he thought he was finally figuring out what the mysterious person's endgame was.

Mo Ran had begun to learn the forbidden technique of the Gate of Life and Death. He had been
standing at the window when he announced his intentions, looking outside at a chirping bird.
"Only those with strong yin energy can do it," he said. "So I'm going to learn how."

"You won't succeed," Chu Wanning said.

"You never know if you don't try," Mo Ran said, smiling.

"It tore two different worlds apart," Chu Wanning objected. "It changed fate and has been
forbidden by the heavens."

"I don't care about fate," Mo Ran said lazily.

The first forbidden art had been lost for a long time before Mo Ran tried to unearth it. He finally
located the ancient scroll, only to find the most important chapter missing. Without a complete
manual, he couldn't create a gate in time, only space. Chu Wanning then began to understand the
poisoner's dastardly plan.

The villain who had infected Mo Ran with darkness wasn't interested in dominating the world, Chu
Wanning thought. He wanted the Gate of Life and Death. He wanted a complete blending of the
two separated worlds. In order to accomplish his goal, this person needed a person with the right
type of qi - an overpowering abundance of yin energy - of which there were very few. One of those
people was Mo Ran.

that is the dumbest most convoluted Evil Plot; what motivation does Mo Ran have to learn
the forbidden technique? We already know he's not doing it because someone else suggested
it, unless we're going to retcon all of his previous flashbacks, which makes this a pile of
bullshit trying and failing to sound clever

------

“Why are you trying to learn the first forbidden technique?”

“I’m going to go back to the past,” Mo Ran said. “To save him.”

Chu Wanining, dressed in white, knew exactly who Mo Ran meant. “If you have read the scrolls,
you know that the price of this technique is sorrow. You know what happened to everyone else
who used it, right?”

With a frown, Mo Ran crossed his long legs and rested his cheek on his hand. “I don’t,” he said.
“Tell me.”

“No one has ever succeeded,” Chu Wanning said.

then why are we taking its existence as a given, instead of coming at it from the angle of
Maybe It’s Not Real

“Then I’ll be the first to succeed,” Mo Ran said.

“You don’t know what the consequences of rearranging time and space are,” Chu Wanning said.

“I don’t give a shit,” Mo Ran sneered.

Still unwilling to let his student commit another atrocity, Chu Wanning tried again. “Even if you
brought him back, what would the other you do?”

“I’ll kill him,” Mo Ran sneered.

Chu Wanning closed his mouth with a snap, realizing that Mo Ran had lost his mind. And yet, he
couldn’t help himself. “You’re only going to repeat the mistakes of the past,” he said, but his
argument was interrupted by a clatter.

Mo Ran had kicked the fruit tray over, sending fruit rolling across the floor. He stepped forward,
crushing the fruit beneath his feet, and grabbed Chu Wanning’s robes. “I hope he dies,” he snarled.
“And you’re a asshole, for getting him killed like this.”

“You’d be the one that killed him,” Chu Wanning said.

“Stop getting in my way,” Mo Ran said softly, eyes full of madness.

There was nothing Chu Wanning could do; he had already been humiliated and broken, and he
couldn’t bear to kill his former student. Mo Ran turned away, leaving Chu Wanning surrounded by
darkness and crushed fruit and the knowledge that he was being manipulated from behind the
scenes. Chu Wanning was sure that minor tears in reality, like scratches on human skin, would
repair themselves. He was also sure that the world would return to its primal state of chaos if time
and space were too badly damaged.

The first forbidden technique would destroy space and time entirely, Chu Wanning knew, and he
would have to stop Mo Ran before he could succeed. He waited until Mo Ran was otherwise
occupied, and then went to the library. As he had no qi, his movements weren’t limited and he was
allowed to go where he would; one of Mo Ran’s small kindnesses.

With the information available to him, Chu Wanning went through all the books in the library. He
was able to draw two conclusions. The first was that the poisoner was highly skilled at medicinal
techniques but had low spiritual power – if they had enough qi, they wouldn’t need to use others to
accomplish their goals. The second was that Shi Mei’s death had been orchestrated in order to
catapult Mo Ran into the second stage of infection.

all of that has been demonstrated to be correct by other chapters, but the first conclusion
cannot be drawn with the information Chu Wanning has and the second is another needlessly
convoluted plot that only succeeded through pure luck but is being presented as So Clever,
which, again, bad writing

Continuing to read, Chu Wanning learned that warm memories of a single person would be
retained by someone infected with the parasite flower, and the identity of that individual could be
chosen by the caster. Often, Chu Wanning read, the caster would choose themselves as the person
their victim thought of fondly. He knew Shi Mei had died, which did not help him figure out who
had infected Mo Ran.

Whoever it was had wanted Mo Ran to learn the forbidden techniques for their own evil aims;
Zhenlong chess, resurrection of the dead, and control over time and space. Mo Ran had raced
headlong toward these techniques, but Chu Wanning just couldn’t figure out who would want to
master all three. He decided it was more important to stop Mo Ran.

Only one reasonable course of action existed, Chu Wanning decided. He had to kill the Evil
Overlord. Then, he realized, he had to return to the past to remove the curse before Mo Ran
reached the second stage; even if the manipulator managed to learn the first forbidden technique,
the strongest power would be out of his grasp. Chu Wanning huddled into himself, anxious at the
thought of killing the Evil Overlord, and watched moths fly into his candle flame and die.

what part of that is reasonable

It wasn’t Mo Ran’s fault he had been controlled, but he would have to die. Chu Wanning’s heart
ached; not only had he failed to protect Mo Ran, but now he was forced to kill him. He closed his
eyes, feeling like a moth drawn to a flame. The chill of the rain lingered in his bones.

Trying to figure out how to kill the Evil Overlord was another matter entirely; even when Mo Ran
slept the sleep of the just beside him, Chu Wanning didn’t think he could successfully assassinate
him. Mo Ran had gotten loonier and loonier, demanding more and more depraved things during
sex, and Chu Wanning had to kill him. He swallowed hard, knowing that in addition to killing Mo
Ran, he also had to open up the gate of time and space.

how is it fucking reasonable to say No One May Use This Forbidden Technique Or It Will
Destroy The World Except For Me I Must Use It

As it was currently impossible to kill Mo Ran, Chu Wanning had to learn the first forbidden
technique. He had some ideas as to how to begin, starting with stealing Mo Ran’s research and
roughly restoring the original form of the spell. Without a spiritual core or substantial qi, it was
difficult to pull off an enchantment – but with Nine Songs, he managed a small tear.

what a goddamn hypocrite

A whistle screamed shrilly from the small gap, exactly as the scrolls had described. He heard a
voice ask him where he was going, and his heart pounded hard in his chest. He had infuriated Mo
Ran on purpose, knowing that he would turn to Song Qiutong for solace rather than bother Chu
Wanning, and that he would have privacy for his task. He took a deep breath to answer.

that pattern of behavior is exactly opposite of what has been established; when Mo Ran is
pissed at Chu Wanning, he fucks him senseless and there is no reason for him not to do that
this time, except lazy writing and Convenient Plot Contrivance

“I want to go back to the year Mo Ran was infected with the Flower of Eight Sufferings and
Everlasting Hatred, when he was still in the first stage and could be saved.”

Brilliant light shone and the tunnel slowly opened. Heaven and earth spun dizzily around him, and
Chu Wanning saw peach blossoms drifting around him. He had done it, he knew, finding himself
at Sisheng Peak in late spring. He calmed himself and then started walking. The familiar fragrance
of Madam Wang’s flowers filled his nostrils and the light glittered around him.

Revisiting his past felt like a dream, and Chu Wanning watched the disciples in a daze. He knew
that his past self would stay inside at night, and wasn’t worried about running into himself, but he
suddenly saw Xue Meng and Shi Mei coming toward him.

------

Both disciples had carefree smiles on their faces, and Xue Meng placed a small flower in Shi Mei's
hair. They both saw Chu Wanning at the same time, and he didn't know whether to cry or laugh.
Shi Mei smiled. "Hello, sir."

Xue Meng's face lit up. "It's so rare to see you out so late, sir. Where are you going?"
"I'm just going for a walk," Chu Wanning said, grateful for the dim light hiding his expression. He
hesitated, and then couldn't help it. "What about you two?"

"We were just at Wuchang Town," Xue Meng said. "I bought snacks." He smiled happily. "There
was a temple fair today."

The Chu Wanning of that time would have ended the conversation and kept walking; the present
Chu Wanning, instead of being uninterested in the mundanities of his disciples' lives, drank it in
like rain in a desert. He would never again see them smile so easily in his world, and he wanted to
bask in it. "What did you buy?" he asked.

"Oh, do you want to see?" Xue Meng rummaged through his bag, coming up with a handful of
treats. "Here, sir, osmanthus candy for you."

Shi Mei also made a show of searching his bag, but he came up empty-handed and blushed. Chu
Wanning plucked a pair of candies from Xue Meng's hand. "You don't need to give me anything,"
he said to both of them. "This is enough." The gate could close at any moment, he knew, and he
had already blown past Nine Songs' power limit. He wouldn't be able to open it again. Heart full,
he asked, "Have you seen Mo Ran?"

"I haven't seen him since after lunch," Xue Meng said.

"I think he had some other plans," Shi Mei said. "He's been off on his own the past couple of
days."

No one was in Mo Ran's room when Chu Wanning went, nor was he in the temple. Anxiety
ratcheting upward, he began to think of where else Mo Ran might have gone; almost immediately,

Shi Mei also said, “He hasn’t been with us for the past few days. He probably has something to
do.”

Thus, Chu Wanning went to the disciple’s room, but there was no one there, so he went to the
temple to look for him. Seeing that he was running out of time, he became even more anxious. A
long moment later, he suddenly recalled that Mo Ran tended to visit a specific place, and he
hurried toward it.

The Immortal Peach Pavilion was a wooden building decorated with red and purple engravings,
somewhat known, full of people entering from all directions. Many of them were greasy men, and
Chu Wanning looked out of place in such a low-class crowd. Greeters by the door welcomed
patrons and tried to attract more potential patrons by hyping up the evening's performers and their
routines, much to the mocking ridicule of many of the passersby. Ignoring the byplay, Chu
Wanning entered the building.

Inside was illuminated by silk lanterns, the patrons rowdy as they enjoyed the show or enjoyed the
attentions of the establishment's workers. The air was redolent with the scent of alcohol and
flowers, the pungent odor of makeup underlying everything else. Chu Wanning's face darkened
and he scanned the area with his phoenix eyes, but he was unable to locate Mo Ran. He wondered
if he was perhaps mistaken, but the establishment's owner intercepted him before he could leave.

"Young master," she said, smiling with scarlet lips. "Please enjoy the show."

"I'm looking for someone," Chu Wanning said.

"Well, I never," the owner said, insulted. "Go look, then."

Chu Wanning removed a beautiful, expensive jade ring from his waist and handed it to her. "I
wonder if you could help me," he said.

The owner turned it over in her hands, and then smiled at him. "Who might you be looking for,
young master?"

"He's fifteen or sixteen," Chu Wanning said. "His name is Mo Ran."

A graceful, elegant carving stood on the third floor of the pavilion, looking out over the patrons. It
created an atmosphere of gentle joy much like the offerings of the poppy flower, dreamlike and
addictive. Chu Wanning saw offerings of silver in the pot at its feet as the owner walked him to
one of the upstairs rooms, the name Rong Jiu carved on the door. "He's in here," she said. "Please
wait for me to call Jiu out, and then I will ensure privacy for your chat with your friend."

Even here, it was clear to see how well Mo Ran was loved. Chu Wanning closed his eyes briefly.
"I'm sorry to trouble you," he said.

He could hear voices in the room after she entered, and then she emerged with a flushed and
beautiful boy. He seemed oddly familiar, but Chu Wanning couldn't place him. The boy who must
have been Rong Jiu bowed deeply to Chu Wanning and followed the owner. Chu Wanning
acknowledged the greeting and then walked through the door.

There was, unexpectedly, no incense in the room. Lit in red and purple, it smelled of wine instead.
Mo Ran lay on his side, playing with the red tassels tied to the clay wine jug. Chu Wanning
actively ignored the red, messy bed, and walked through the bright, lustful room. He felt terribly
out of place.

"You're the one who came to see me, sir?" Mo Ran said, looking displeased. "You want some
wine? It's pear blossom. Bet you've never had it."

"You're drunk," Chu Wanning realized.

Mo Ran chuckled, proving him right, and reached for Chu Wanning's waist. "So what if I am? You
should take advantage of me."

Without answering, Chu Wanning lifted the youth from the bed, red as a sea of desire, but his
trembling fingertips betrayed his inner feelings. "Mo Ran," he said, and a heartless smile crossed
his disciple's face. Chu Wanning closed his eyes. "I'm too late," he said hoarsely. He moved his
fingers in a familiar rhythm, and excruciating pain ripped through him. His holy weapon appeared,
the ancient zither named Nine Songs. Its flowering tail curved gracefully upward, and it poured qi
into Chu Wanning's body. It wasn't enough for him to stand against the Evil Overlord, but it
allowed him to do much.

Chu Wanning pressed his forehead against Mo Ran's and closed his eyes. He could feel the aura of
the parasite flower deep inside Mo Ran, as if a heavy black blossom was taking root in his heart. It
was the source of his madness. Taking a deep breath, Chu Wanning changed the incantation he had
memorized from the ancient scroll, and shouted with all his might. "Soul-Breaking Strike!"

Cold light shone from Chu Wanning's eyes as he opened them. He had passed half of his soul to
Mo Ran's body to suppress the flower, the only way to ensure it would not take his student's heart.
Qi blazed as Nine Songs released the phoenix's cry. Mo Ran was senseless against the onslaught,
but Chu Wanning endured the extreme pain. He had failed to protect Mo Ran in the past, but he
wouldn't fail him now.
When the light faded, it took Chu Wanning's strength with it. Mo Ran fell back to the bed, and
Nine Songs disappeared. Chu Wanning sat heavily, face bloodless but heart at ease. He had
changed his disciple's fate, and his own. Mo Ran was safe. He knew he could stay no longer,
having accomplished his first objective and needing to focus on the second. He would need to give
his past self the memories he now held, to make sure that the disaster would not repeat itself.

The defenses his past self had set around the Red Lotus Pavilion did nothing to keep him out; Chu
Wanning stood by the half-open window and looked at the man asleep at the table. A half-finished
diagram of a Holy Night Guardian was under his cheek. Chu Wanning transferred the torn strand of
his Earth Soul into his past self's body; as it had belonged to him initially, he reasoned that it would
cause no discomfort.

"If there is another catastrophe, Mo Ran won't hate you," he said softly. "I can't change this era
without a spiritual core, but you can." His past self remained asleep, as if sensing there was no
danger. "I divided the weakest of my souls," he continued. "Half to you, half to Mo Ran. If your
life goes well, you'll never know. But if there is chaos, I'll find a way to merge these souls back
together."

Although the ancient scroll had said no such thing, Chu Wanning was sure that when the soul and
spirit merged, it would destroy the flower entirely. It would also restore the memories of his
previous life. He sighed softly.

"Please don't hate me for giving you these things."

The third objective was easy to accomplish; he went to find Master Huaizui and hand over the
censer he had spent so much time refining before he had come to the past. He had imbued it with
the Art of Soul Harmony, to absorb the deepest part of his subconscious memories and merge his
torn souls together. He wasn't sure what his deepest memories were; there were too many
memories carrying too much strong emotion for him to guess. He instructed Master Huaizui to seal
the censer in the caves and take Mo Ran to it if needed.

After he had succeeded, Chu Wanning knew he had to return. He wished to stay in the clean and
peaceful past, but he knew he didn't belong there. He couldn't break the rules, practice the
forbidden martial arts only to satisfy his own selfish desires. With a great sense of regret, he
exercised his considerable will and returned to his own time.

nope, can't use the forbidden techniques except for when he justifies to himself that it's ok,
and because chu wanning is the author's pet, when HE decides it's ok, it's going to work out
for the best, in direct contradiction to all the expectations the author set up for use of
forbidden techniques across well over 200 chapters, and it's a disappointing answer to every
mystery it resolves

"Grandmaster Chu." A man in red was walking toward Chu Wanning as he tried to cover up the
traces of qi left behind by his use of the forbidden technique. "You're not an easy man to find, sir,"
said Eunuch Liu.

"Where is he?" Chu Wanning asked.

"Red Lotus Pavilion."

Mo Ran was sitting under the wisteria, eyes closed, when Chu Wanning arrived. He looked up as
the door opened. "Come here," he said.

"Music?" Chu Wanning said, hearing it as he approached. "It's such a short song."
"I'm too tired to listen to something longer," Mo Ran said. He pulled Chu Wanning into his
embrace, not asking where his teacher had been. Chu Wanning had never been disobedient, after
all. He pulled him onto his lap, burying his face in Chu Wanning's chest. "I had a dream," he said.

this is again out of character for this version of Mo Ran, but very convenient for the plot

"Oh?"

"You taught me how to write," Mo Ran said. Stunned, Chu Wanning felt his heart skip a beat. The
Evil Overlord, however, was too immersed in the memories of his dream to notice. He kept talking
in a sad, light tone Chu Wanning had never heard. "You were very angry," he said. "Because I was
so bad at it. But you didn't give up on me. You held my hand, and there were flowers near the
window." He paused, his expression transforming his face into something very like the young,
gentle teenager he had once been. "It was nice to see the letters I'd written."

His sudden smile might have been full of malevolence or pleasure, and Chu Wanning couldn't tell.
He raised his head, eyes full of thoughts. The coldness characteristic of the Evil Overlord slowly
hardened his features again, and he reached out to touch Chu Wanning's cold cheeks.

"Do you know why I wanted to see you?" he asked. "You looked so good in that dream that I
wanted to see the real you."

Chu Wanning lowered his eyes. "I," he started to say, and caught himself just in time.

"I don't hate you," the Evil Overlord said. "I want to, but I -" he hesitated. He wanted to say that if
he no longer hated, he wouldn't know what else to do. "Wanning," he finally said. "In the end, it's
just you and me."

Heart feeling as though it had been pierced with a thousand knives, Chu Wanning opened his eyes.
He saw pitch black around him, cold sweat pouring off his body, and slowly realized he had been
dreaming of the memories of his other self, that he had been on Mount Longxue and had an
incantation cast upon him. They poured through his mind, overwhelming, and he trembled. It took
a long moment for him to wonder where he was and why he couldn't see anything.

"Mo Ran," Chu Wanning murmured, and felt a warm hand touch his cheek. It took his chin,
rubbing his lips with a soft thumb.

"I've been waiting for you," said a voice with the distinctive burr of a voice changing technique.
"You're finally awake."

------

"You're finally awake." The voice sounded strange and distorted in the quiet room. Chu Wanning
couldn't see Shi Mei sitting by the bed, staring at him like a spider staring at its prey. "Did you
sleep well?"

Instead of answering immediately, Chu Wanning assessed his internal condition; his qi was low,
and his hands had been tied. There was something across his eyes as well. He had always been
fearless and there was no sense in panicking now, he thought. He knew there was only one person
who could cause him harm, and Shi Mei wasn't it. He remained silent, trying to order his fractured
memory and place the fragments of what he had heard while only partially awake.

The door rumbled open before he finished, and Chu Wanning smelled oranges. "My dear friend,"
said Nangong Liu's voice. "I've got them! And they're the sweet ones." He paused. "Ah, the
concubine is awake?"
Chu Wanning's heart fell. He thought he had been mistaken, and it wasn't Shi Mei in the room with
him after all, if he was being addressed as a concubine. Shie Mei took the tangerine from Nangong
Liu and smiled. "You did well," he said. "But the Imperial Consort Chu and I have some things to
discuss. Go ahead and play for a while."

"Can't I stay here and play? I'll peel oranges for you."

"Some things aren't meant for children's ears," Shi Mei said, and Nangong Liu pouted before he
left. The room was very quiet for a few moments, with only the sound of breathing and the candle
crackling in the corner. Shi Mei peeled an orange, speaking conversationally. "Do you know who
that was?" he asked curiously. "You should have recognized his voice." At the lack of answer, he
pressed a section of fruit to Chu Wanning's lips. "Try it," he coaxed. "It was planted by Nangong
Xu and should be very sweet."

Chu Wanning turned his face away instead. "Where is he?" he asked coldly.

"Who?"

"You know who."

"You want to see Mo Ran?" Shi Mei asked disingenuously, and then smiled gently. "You're very
concerned about him, ignoring me entirely even though I'm right here."

Chu Wanning pursed his lips, and Shi Mei stared at him for a long moment. The resentment in his
chest flared, but he refused to move too quickly. He ate his orange slowly and delicately, without
showing teeth, in contrast to the way the Evil Overlord devoured his meals. The emperor had
always looked like a hungry dog, Shi Mei thought, and he refused to be associated with such
indignity.

"Don't you want the oranges?" he said lightly. "Is this how you treated Emperor Evil Overlord?"

"I don't want it."

"Your lips are chapped from lack of water. You should eat it."

"Where's Mo Ran?" Chu Wanning asked, gritting his teeth.

Slowly, Shi Mei's smile faded. "You're only worried about him," he said. "Sir, why don't you-" he
broke off, and then continued. "What's so good about him?" He looked at Chu Wanning to see his
face growing paler. "He's impulsive and dumb, and he has a shitty character. Why do you like him?
Because he's pretty? Because he's got strong spiritual power?"

The more Shi Mei spoke, the more Chu Wanning could hear the whining notes in his voice. Shi
Mei's mouth dried as he saw Chu Wanning biting his lips as if trying to suppress emotions. Spite
rose in him, and he changed tactics.

"Or is it just that he's a good fuck?"

"Shut up," Chu Wanning said angrily, unable to restrain himself.

Shi Mei intended no such thing, having finally gotten Chu Wanning within his grasp. He smiled,
wanting to play with his prey. "Concubine Chu," he said. "You don't know that Mo Ran gave you a
noble title after you died." He watched Chu Wanning's face carefully, excited by the change in his
expression. "It does sound a little funny," he said. "But it's appropriate; he was the only one you
ever let fuck you, so of course you think he's great. You don't have anything to compare him to."
Shi Mei slid his fingers downward. He caressed Chu Wanning's nose, lips, and moved across his
chin down his throat. Chu Wanning trembled, but he was held motionless.

"Don't waste your energy," Shi Mei said. "If the Imperial Consort Chu wants to be fucked, I can do
that. You're my war prize, after all, and I should get to enjoy you."

this is no different than what Mo Ran did, but we're going to forgive male-coded Mo Ran
because Convenient Evil Flower, whereas female-coded Shi Mei will be straight-up villainous

"What do you want?"

"I want you to stop caring about him," Shi Mei said. "I want you to think about me instead."

"You planted the curse in the other life," Chu Wanning said, the pain in his voice barely
perceptible. "What else would I think about you?" He was trying his best to suppress his emotions,
but they leaked through.

Laughing, Shi Mei said, "Yes, it was me. Try to guess my real identity, Concubine Chu."

"Tell me if you want," Chu Wanning said. "I don't care."

"For once I'd like you to be cooperative," Shi Mei sighed. "How about this, Consort, let's make a
bet." He paused. "I do need to see how many pieces of clothing you're wearing first." As Chu
Wanning remained silent, he slowly counted five articles of clothing. "You have five chances," he
said brightly when he had finished. "I'll remove one piece of clothing for every wrong answer. If
you still have clothes when you answer correctly, I'll tell you where Mo Ran is. But if not, well."
He licked his lips instead of finishing the sentence and waited for Chu Wanning to guess.

With all the time in the world, Shi Mei could afford to be patient. He waited for Chu Wanning to
speak, but Chu Wanning remained silent. Shi Mei began to feel his patience wane.

"Guess," he said.

"Fuck off," said Chu Wanning.

"You should be more polite to me," Shi Mei said, expression dark. "You have no bargaining chips
here. The Evil Overlord might have been lenient, but I won't be." He waited another few moments,
but Chu Wanning stubbornly remained silent. "Do you think I'll just let it go if you ignore me?" He
put his hands on Chu Wanning's waist, slowly stroking the seal of his robe. "If you don't speak by
the time I count to three, you'll rue the consequences."

Shi Mei's eyes lit up; he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted Chu Wanning to speak. But he was
fully invested in the game. The man before him had foiled him across two lifetimes, refused to
belong to him, and Shi Mei wanted to savor the fruit of his victory.

"One," Shi Mei said, and paused. "Two." Anticipation rose in him. "Three." He smiled widely.
"Consort Chu, you're very brave, and it's no wonder that the Evil Overlord is obsessed with you.
But if you're not going to guess, I'll have to punish you."

"Hua Binan," Chu Wanning interrupted coldly.

"You're half right," Shi Mei said, hands freezing at Chu Wanning's waist. "Continue." His face had
a fox-like slyness that would have been vulgar on anyone else, but was stunning on his beautiful
features. He was entirely sure that Chu Wanning would fail to guess his final truth.
"I'd rather you were dead," Chu Wanning said.

"What?" The smile slid off of Shi Mei's face.

"In my previous life, the sky split open and the snow fell when you died. I wish that had happened
again."

Speechless, Shi Mei could only stare. His prepared speech had fallen apart. His raised hand was
frozen ludicrously in mid-air at Chu Wanning's hurtful words.

"It was you, Shi Mingjing," Chu Wanning said.

"I didn't die," Shi Mei said. "I let you down." A defeated note crept into his voice. "I am the Shi
Mei of your previous life," he admitted. "I'm from the same world as the Evil Overlord, not the Shi
Mei you know here. I'll keep my word and untie you," he added. He removed the ribbon from
across Chu Wanning's eyes and undid the binding around his wrists. Peach blossom eyes met
phoenix eyes. "Hello, sir."

"Is that what you're calling me?" Chu Wanning said.

"Of course, sir," Shi Mei answered. "We are master and disciple, after all." The sharp daggers
hidden beneath his gentleness were only now becoming clear.

Despite his weakness, Chu Wanning's face was determined. He glared at Shi Mei for a long time,
lips parted. "You bastard," he finally said.

"It's a good thing you won," Shi Mei said, smiling. "But when did you guess who I was, sir?"

Instead of answering, Chu Wanning only looked at him coldly. Resentment and disappointment
spread across his face. Shi Mei watched him, trying to figure out the answer to his own question.

"You would have told Master Huaizui when you opened the gate, if you'd known," he said
thoughtfully. "You must have just learned." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You're not going
to escape."

Chu Wanning became even more silent. Of his three disciples, the one he knew the least well was
Shi Mei; he had accepted him because he had acted respectful, gentle, and kind to others. It was an
admirable demeanor, Chu Wanning had found, as these were qualities he knew he himself lacked.
But he had sometimes felt that something was a little off; Xue Zhengyong had said Shi Mei was an
orphan he had picked up during the war, but Shi Mei's own accounts of his background had
sometimes been inconsistent.

and when did we establish this? it is very annoying to get a By The Way I Always Thought
That retcon when no hint of this was ever made previously

Once in a while, Chu Wanning remembered, he had found Shi Mei's attitude strange; his disciple
had seemed like a once-ferocious domesticated dog, seemingly gentle but reminded of old habits at
the scent of blood. And yet Shi Mei had never been seen to act inappropriately. Chu Wanning had
thought he was imagining things, that his misgivings were unfounded. Still, he had walked the line
between trust and mistrust of Shi Mei. Occasionally testing him, he had finally decided to trust
him. Shi Mei's betrayal was therefore all the more painful.

"How much of the past do you remember?" Shi Mei asked. "Do you remember that you were
willing to stand by and do nothing? And yet now you try to stop me. Me! Instead of killing the
Evil Overlord! You helped him reincarnate instead!"
"He's not like you," Chu Wanning retorted, finally driven to speak.

"Different," Shi Mei snorted. "How?"

"You're the one who planted the parasite flower," Chu Wanning said.

"So?" Shi Mei said. "Even if he's cursed, he's still the one who did those terrible things. You saw
with your own eyes, in the previous life. You saw how many people he killed." He raised his
delicate, clean hands. "Did these hands perform such acts?" He shook his head. "I didn't want
Rufeng Sect slaughtered, or Xue Zhengyong dead. All I did was plant a curse on him. I've never
killed anyone. He took the knife, and he stabbed you. The Flower of Everlasting Hatred doesn't
generate anger or hate from nothing, it only waters the seeds that were already there. It's wrong to
blame me for his actions."

Every word he spoke only made Chu Wanning more disgusted with him. He raised his head, eyes
cold as ice. "Wrong?" he hissed.

"He's the one who did it," Shi Mei said. "But you're blaming me, sir."

"Do you know who he is?"

"Of course I do," Shi Mei said. "I'm not sure about you, though, sir." He cleaned the orange juice
off of his hands. "Do you know why Mo Ran destroyed Rufeng Sect? Out of hatred. He killed Xue
Zhengyong because he was afraid. He humiliated you because he lusted after you." He glanced at
Chu Wanning. "He feels everything to an extreme. That's his nature."

Gritting his teeth, Chu Wanning retorted, "Shi Mingjing. Don't you think it's disingenuous for you
to erase his pure thoughts and magnify his hatred, but then say that he's responsible for everything
he did? Who wouldn't act wrongly, after such an injustice?"

"And how was that hatred born?" Shi Mei snapped. "If he was so pure and innocent, he wouldn't
have felt resentment at all. He wouldn't have wreaked such havoc. Therefore he's to blame for not
having a clean enough mind."

Chu Wanning glared, expression ugly. He opened his mouth to refute his former disciple, but Shi
Mei wasn't done talking. He smiled.

"Sir, people are entirely responsible for their own actions."

Any desire Chu Wanning had to continue speaking to Shi Mei died. He turned away entirely. Shi
Mei sighed.

"Sir, you're biased toward him," he said. "You let him get away with everything."

"And I should let you get away with things?" Chu Wanning retorted coldly.

"So you're still in love with him, sir," Shi Mei said after a moment. Chu Wanning's answering look
was akin to the moon on an icy lake. "I have competed with him across both lifetimes," Shi Mei
mused. "I'll always lose to him."

"And what is your metric for comparison?" Chu Wanning asked coldly.

"Is that all you have to say to me?" Shi Mei asked, eyes narrowed. "Is there something else?"

Giving him a considering look, Chu Wanning appeared to be seriously thinking about his answer.
Then he looked up coldly. "Yes," he said.

"What, then?" Shi Mei asked.

Chu Wanning said expressionlessly, “You don’t have to compare yourself to Mo Ran. You can’t
even compare to Nangong Xu. At least he still had feelings and dared to admit it. He’s not like you,
Hua Binan, you bastard."

The man before him, Chu Wanning felt, no longer deserved the name Shi Mingjing.

------

Snow-white face twitching, Shi Mei stopped suddenly. "Tell me how you really feel," he said,
reaching for Chu Wanning's lower jaw. Chu Wanning dodged as if his very touch was poison. Shi
Mei narrowed his eyes, a storm brewing in his expression, but it faded. "Let's stop talking about
this," he said lightly. "You're very single-minded, you know. You wanted to kill him, but you
didn't have the heart, and you even gave him your broken soul before you died."

That year, Chu Wanning remembered, during the life-and-death battles in Kunlun, he had
transferred his soul when he had touched Mo Ran's forehead lightly with his fingertip; Shi Mei
wasn't wrong. His soul had spilled out in the end, one strand of it remaining with the Mo Ran of the
past and one in his own past self, but he had given the rest to Emperor Evil Overlord. He had had
no idea how to break the third stage of the parasite flower's infection, but he had thought his spirit
soul might help. He had become soft-hearted in the end, but only when it came to Mo Weiyu and
the glimmer of hope he held that it would be possible to save him.

Chu Wanning hadn't known then if it would work. As if seeing his thoughts, Shi Mei laughed.
"You couldn't get rid of the cursed flower," he said. "But you did disrupt his mind, tearing him
apart between good and evil." Chu Wanning looked up at that, expression shifting. He had
guessed the Evil Overlord's final fate when he had seen him on Mount Jiao without a heartbeat.
However, his heart still ached to hear it. "Didn't you know, sir?" Shi Mei said. " I'm surprised that
you managed to ruin my plans so thoroughly." His eyelashes drifted down, soft as cattails, as if he
were about to kiss Chu Wanning.

Snapping out of his daze, Chu Wanning struck at Shi Mei's throat. His hand was as fast as
lightning, veins bulging. Without changing his expression at all, Shi Mei caught his wrist. He
stroked the inside of it lightly, as if he had expected the blow, and laughed.

"You want to kill me again, sir?" he said. "Sadly, it's too late for that." His voice gave way to the
hissing of a snake, and a golden serpent flowed out of his sleeve to latch onto Chu Wanning's arm.

The pain was unbearable, although the snake had barely grazed the skin. Chu Wanning was too
weakened to resist as Shi Mei tied him to the bedposts in an even more humiliating manner than
before. His white hands were cold as he tied the knots.

"Don't worry, sir," he said, caressing the snake. "It's not poisonous. It just weakens its victims, and
as I respect you, I have no other choice." He raised a finger, and the snake disappeared into his
sleeve. "Speaking of which, I was forced to stick with Mo Weiyu for so long in my previous life,
but I was actually quite unwilling." He stood, calmly unbuttoning his cloak and his outer robe.

Disgust suffused Chu Wanning's face. "Shi Mingjing!"

I’m sorry what happened to calling him Hua Binan

Smiling gently, Shi Mei walked toward Chu Wanning. "Let me tell you a secret," he said. "When
you were married in your previous life, I was there as Hua Binan. Although the Evil Overlord had
his own selfish reasons and hid you under all that red silk, I still knew it was you. I went to the Red
Lotus Pavilion after the banquet, but then he came in." Shi Mei's eyes flashed. "I hid, and watched.
Did you know?" Shi Mei caressed his chest with his slender hands, eyes greedy and voice
hoarse, fingertips stopping on Chu Wanning's abdomen. He began to untie the belt.

Trembling with rage and disgust, Chu Wanning could do nothing. He was beyond humiliated,
particularly when he remembered the details of that night. He had no strength to throw his former
disciple off, and could only grit his teeth.

"That was the night he gave you the aphrodisiac," Shi Mei said. "I've been so thirsty ever since."

"Fuck off, Shi Mingjing," Chu Wanning found the strength to shout.

With a chuckle, Shi Mei said, "It's just fucking. No need to be so uptight. You've already fucked
one disciple, after all, so what's another?"

"Get out!"

"It's not like you'd be committing a worse transgression the second time around. I don't mind
sloppy seconds, and it's not like I'm a worse lover."

Before Chu Wanning could snap at him again, a cold voice came from the door. "Get off him."

Looking up as if he'd been struck by lightning, Chu Wanning saw the stone door had been flung
open. A man stood outside, face hidden by a black and gold blade, posture tall and cold.

"So fast," Shi Mei said, eyes narrowed.

The mystery man took a heavy step forward, aura bone-chillingly cold. For a moment, the lights in
the room flickered on his black armor, and Chu Wanning saw him clearly. He wore black armor
with a silver dragon's-head belt around his slender waist. Sharp bracers adorned his wrists and he
wore dragon-scale gloves. His handsome, heroic face was familiar - Emperor Evil Overlord. He
raised his eyes, pale cheeks stained with blood, and glanced at Chu Wanning coldly. "Fuck off," he
said to Shi Mei.

All traces of warmth faded from Shi Mei's face. He slowly sat up. "Did you kill everyone I asked
you to at Lonemoon?"

"Not yet." the Evil Overlord walked toward them, pulling his gloves off with his teeth. He threw
the bloody items on the table, and smiled maliciously. "Be careful," he added. "I'm the one in
charge here."

Shi Mei lifted his chin. "You'd better watch your mouth, too."

"You're on the wrong bed," the Evil Overlord said. "Get out of it."

"You can't tell me what to do," Shi Mei said.

"Didn't I tell you to watch yourself?" the Evil Overlord said dangerously.

"You answer to me!" Shi Mei snapped.

"And?" the Evil Overlord sneered. "Mount Jiao belongs to me, and so does he." He looked down
with a mocking smile. "Sir," he said. "Please get lost."
As fascinating as the spat was, Chu Wanning had no idea what was going on. He could only listen
and hope to glean some information. Shi Mei had said that the Evil Overlord was dead, which
would have made this man a living puppet, Chu Wanning thought, or perhaps a Zhenlong chess
piece. Another oddity struck Chu Wanning; having not had the influence of the parasite flower
removed, this version of Mo Ran should have been helplessly in love with Shi Mei. Their
conversation made it clear that this was not the case.

Shi Mei sneered at the emperor and then got dressed again. He knew the answers to all of Chu
Wanning's questions; when Mo Ran had died alone, he had used Mo Ran's body and the remnants
of its soul to turn into an undead puppet. It was similar to a Zhenlong chess piece, willing to listen
to some commands, but it retained the mind it had had while alive.

Perhaps because he had suffered too many setbacks while alive, or perhaps because his body was
in tatters, the Evil Overlord’s understanding of Shi Mei was chaotic. Even looking at Hua Binan’s
face, he was unaware that it was his beloved. He only knew him as his master, and he wasn’t
willing to be an obedient servant.

“Soul-shattering,” Shi Mei said, poking the Evil Overlord on the forehead. the Evil Overlord
froze, eyes dull and unfocused. “He’s becoming a more and more disobedient puppet,” Shi Mei
said, patting the Evil Overlord’s cold face. “But I won’t blame him. He wasn’t a complete person
to begin with.” the Evil Overlord remained stiffly frozen. “But if you bear with it for a few days,”
Shi Mei said to him, “I’ll get that thing and send you back to your world.”

As he finished speaking, the Evil Overlord finished breaking free of his control, and Shi Mei’s face
darkened. His puppet was getting quicker and quicker at establishing himself again, eyes even
more resolutely cold than before. The Evil Overlord paused, gaze focused on Shi Mei, and gripped
his knife. “Are you still here?”

Deciding not to pick a fight he couldn’t win, Shi Mei left. The Evil Overlord’s malevolent aura was
so profound that he knew he wouldn’t be able to control him, and it wouldn’t do to have the Lord
of Darkness go on an out of control rampage. The Evil Overlord stared at Chu Wanning after his
master had left, as if he were trying to stop himself from wishing for something. He reached for
Chu Wanning’s belt.

“I,” the Evil Overlord started, and then paused. He pursed his lips. “You,” he started again. Chu
Wanning just looked at him. “I have something to tell you,” he said, finally.

“Go ahead.”

The Evil Overlord hesitated for a moment. “Actually, it’s not that important. I’d rather not talk
about it.” Then his voice firmed. “It doesn’t matter whether it’s important or not. Since you want to
know so badly, I don’t mind telling you.” He took a deep breath. “I wanted to tell you that I missed
you.” He paused. “But only a little,” he added quickly, and then immediately looked as if he’d
regretted it.

Chu Wanning stared at him blankly, not knowing how to feel. The Evil Overlord gave him no time
to process, simply untying the robe and pulling him over for a kiss. His lips were ice-cold, but his
desire was full of fire. He was the past come back to haunt Chu Wanning. The two missing pieces
of spirit souls finally meshed together again, after two lifetimes of separation.

Chu Wanning was torn between utter blankness and whirling thoughts, but his eyes grew moist
with emotion. He couldn’t say how he felt, whether it was right or wrong, good or evil. He only
knew that the Evil Overlord had not lied to him, kissing him with cold lips. He had really missed
him.
let me play the world’s tiniest violin for you