“Hey, Ziming,” he said finally. “Aren’t you surprised there are two of us?

“Oh,” said Xue Meng disinterestedly.

“I forgot how bad you were at drinking,” Mei Hanxue said. “I don’t know if you noticed, but the
person who helped you that day at Sisheng Peak was my older brother.”

“I can’t remember.”

“You’ve seen his weapon, Shuofeng. A silver black iron sword.”

“No,” Xue Meng said slowly. “That wasn’t it.”

“It was blue,” said Mei Hanxue. “Because he was pissed. He doesn’t really like to be cruel. We
actually use that sword differently. My spiritual core is associated with wood and water. His is with
water and fire.” He paused, seeing that Xue Meng wasn’t paying attention. He narrowed his eyes.

Suddenly feeling that Xue Meng was acting very odd, Mei Hanxue took a moment to put his finger
on it. Instead of domineering, Xue Meng was acting cold, he thought. He was acting like someone
else. He couldn’t figure out how Xue Meng reminded him of, and he gave up thinking about it.

“Do you have more of this?” Xue Meng asked, holding up the empty jug.

“Yes, but you’ve already drunk too much. You can’t ask for more.”

“A thousand cups wouldn’t get me drunk,” Xue Meng mumbled.

“You’re sick, then,” Mei Hanxue said, and handed him another jug. “This is the last one, though, if
my brother finds out he’ll be pissed.”

Xue Meng slowly drank the wine, his expression very cold. He was not like Xue Meng. “You
have a brother,” he whispered.

“Ah!” Mei Hanxue laughed. “I’ve been talking about him for a long time and now you’re paying
attention.”

Eyes unfocused, Xue Meng’s eyelashes were like a butterfly resting on the ground. “I have a
brother,” he said.

“Yeah, I know.”

Leaning against the beam column, Xue Meng uncrossed his legs. He stretched, feeling a little
numb, and stared at Mei Hanxue. The ice-cold expression faded into dazzling brilliance, but he still
didn’t look like himself. He smiled. “How does your brother treat you?” he asked.

“Pretty well,” Mei Hanxue said, surprised by the sudden change in attitude.

“Oh, you’re very gentle with your words,” Xue Meng said. “Would he forge a weapon for you?
Cook you noodles while you were sick?”

“No,” Mei Hanxue said, smiling. “But he’ll help block the women.” He paused. “I don’t like
watching old lovers cry, and he handles rejections for me.”

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“Méi Hánxuě.”
“Like you?”

“The characters are different.” Mei Hanxue smiled. “He’s a cold man who deserves his
reputation.”

“Why did you do this?” Xue Meng mumbled.

“It was the easiest thing to do,” Mei Hanxue said. “Sometimes we needed two people, but it was
very handy to have the reputation.” He opened the lid of the incense pot and began to fiddle with
the coals. His voice was very soft. “We carry masks with us, trading use of our face back and forth.
We’ve been doing it for twenty years.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“It’s pretty fun,” Mei Hanxue said. “But I think my brother is tired of it. He says he’s done way too
much for me, managing my ex-lovers.”

Never having experienced being surrounded by women, and knowing he was the same age as Mei
Hanxue, Xue Meng reflected that he had never done so much as touch a woman’s hand. He drank
silently and resentfully, and then looked up. “Why did you save me?” he asked abruptly, face
growing very gentle. It was even more out of place than his previous brilliance.

“It’s you,” Mei Hanxue said, grabbing Xue Meng by the chin and turning his face left and right.
“But you keep looking different. Why?”

Without struggling, Xue Meng allowed Mei Hanxue to manhandle him. He simply gazed at his
friend. “Why are you helping Sisheng Peak?” he asked. “Are we that good of friends?”

“No,” Mei Hanxue said. “I played with you when we were little, but mostly it was my brother that
you knew.”

“Then why are you willing to take me in?”

Mei Hanxue sighed and poked Xue Meng in the forehead with a slender finger. “Your parents
saved my mother’s life,” he said. “She sent us to Taxue Palace on Mount Kunlun when we were
very young, but after that she encountered some evil spirits and was injured.” He smiled. “She was
dying when she reached the foot of Mount Kunlun.” His expression was very gentle. “Uncle Xue
and Aunt Wang were there for the first time, and they saved her. They accepted no payment, and
when they found out she was searching for her son, they carried her all the way to the sect.”

Xue Meng was speechless. “Then what happened?” he asked.

“She was too ill.” Mei Hanxue shook his head. “She passed away. But we saw her before she died,
thanks to your parents.”

The wind blew outside, curling around the shutters to disperse the smoke and rattle the eaves. It
was like the sound of water. Enough time had passed that the pain had faded from the memory.

“They always said there was no need to thank them,” Mei Hanxue said. “They didn’t think it was
that heroic, but my brother and I always remembered.” He raised his green eyes to look at Xue
Meng. “Uncle Xue carried my mother,” he said. “When they reached Taxue Palace, before they
tried to form an alliance for Sisheng Peak, they asked after us.” His golden eyelashes dropped
down. “I respect them more than any other sect leaders.”

Xue Meng choked with sobs. “My parents.”

Mei Hanxue answered, “Yes, your parents.”

Xue Meng buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking as he cried. His tears seemed about to
end, and finally he looked like himself again. Mei Hanxue shivered as he suddenly realized that
Xue Meng had been impersonating Chu Wanning, Mo Weiyu, and Shi Mingjing. He had been
trying to remember their faces and their mannerisms, to keep them alive in the only way he could
think of.

“What I did was wrong,” Xue Meng whispered. “Please don’t leave me alone.” He would have
given anything, reputation included, to have his friends back. He only wanted to tell them how
much he loved them, but it was too late.

Mei Hanxue sighed, watching his friend grieve. He stroked Xue Meng’s ear, and was about to
speak but was interrupted by the muffled sound of what might have been thunder. It crashed
through the heavy clouds and shook the earth, the tremors continuing as if a giant beast had
awakened in the depths of the snowy night. He knew something was wrong, and then his brother
walked inside with a bared blade.

“Go to the main hall,” Mei Hánxuě said. “A massive array just appeared in the northeast, and I’m
afraid that the Gate of Life and Death is about to open.”

------

The Evil Overlord stood high in the sky, black robe fluttering like ink and sleeves flapping wildly.
He narrowed his eyes, gathering qi in his palm. The energy lanced out with a thunderous echo,
suffusing the sky in scarlet. The sun and moon doubled over the raging waters of the lake, and the
outward edge of the spell could be felt across the entire cultivation world. Babies cried and adults
lifted their heads to look at the massive rift in the sky.

The Gate of Life and Death was fully open, Mo Ran hovering in front of it. He had died and ben
reborn, more than once, and his memories of both lives were patched together in fragments. He had
lost the slim hold he might once have had on sanity, and was ready to destroy both heaven and
earth. He threw back his head and laughed, not knowing why.

The only stability Mo Ran could latch onto was the set of consistent orders given by Shi Mei, and
he clung to them. He carried them out, looking at the translucent barrier beneath the rolling black
clouds. “No Return,” he said, summoning his holy weapon. His fingertips brushed across its hilt,
and he used it to hack the barrier apart.

The mountains and rivers changed color, and Mo Ran’s tyrannical qi surged. He stood before the
crack in the sky for a moment before walking across thin air into the world that belonged to him.
The wind between the worlds whistled between his ears, and when it ceased, he found himself
standing once again on Mount Kunlun.

“Welcome back, your Imperial Majesty,” he heard from countless throats. Crowds of people knelt
in the snow below him, bowing repeatedly, and Mo Ran narrowed his eyes as he stared at the sea
of black cloaks. The horde reached to the foot of the mountain, and Eunuch Liu stood at its head.

After the Evil Overlord had drunk poison, Eunuch Liu had gone back to his hometown with the
expectation that he would die there. Instead, he had been collected by a Medical Sect disciple who
introduced himself as Hua Binan. The Emperor had also returned, but as a living corpse who had
nonetheless impatiently demanded that Eunuch Liu seek out his staff and return them to Wushan
Palace.
Eventually, Hua Binan had vanished again. It became more and more obvious that the resurrected
emperor was a puppet, but Eunuch Liu could do nothing about it. He had only been able to serve.
Seeing his emperor look so alive in front of him moved him now to tears.

“Eunuch Liu,” said the Evil Overlord.

“Your Majesty,” the eunuch returned, bowing deeply.

“I’ve met him again,” the Evil Overlord said, looking like a child in a hurry to share good news
with his elders. “Grandmaster Chu is alive, and my spirit core has been restored.” He grinned
widely, and then seemed to remember the rest of the crowd. No one dared laugh. “Stop kneeling!”
he snapped after an embarrassed pause. “Return to Wushan Palace.”

Most of the land on the return journey was empty; many people had died, and Mo Ran couldn’t
help but feel it was almost lonely. To dispel the feelings, he opened a bottle of pear blossom white
that night in Wushan Palace and drank it. His senses were still blunted, as he was not truly alive,
but he was satisfied that he could once again eat and drink like the living.

The Evil Overlord was pleased to find that he could even get slightly drunk, and he rested his
forehead on the soft couch. The feeling didn’t last long; he was soon reminded that he didn’t like
drinking alone. He narrowed his eyes. “Chu Wanning,” he muttered, and went to the Red Lotus
Pavilion.

Finding Eunuch Liu leaving the Constellation Saint’s dwelling was an unpleasant shock. “Your
Majesty,” the eunuch said guardedly.

“Why are you here?” Mo Ran snapped, and then saw the cleaning supplies. “Oh.”

“I didn’t know when you might want to come here,” his old servant said. “So I come every day to
clean.” He gestured formally. “Please enter, your majesty.”

At a loss for words, the Evil Overlord walked alone to the lotus pond. It was full of qi, keeping the
flowers always in bloom, and Mo Ran remembered many days he had spent there with Chu
Wanning. He also remembered that there had been little warmth between them except for the sex,
even when he had tried to kindle more of a spark. Perhaps, he mused, his killing of innocents had
had something to do with it.

There had been one day in which he had been immersed in a game – he had placed a bet with Chu
Wanning over something ridiculous, the croaking of frogs, and shamelessly cheated. Chu Wanning
had not been pleased, and irritation had wormed its way beneath the emperor’s skin. “You think
you’re still the Constellation Saint,” he’d said to his former mentor, but he had been pleased
enough to order a carriage to go into town. Their departure had been interrupted by a woman’s
gentle voice.

“Ran,” she said.

not this fucking flashback bullshit again

------

Song Qiutong was dressed in gorgeous clothes as she led a bevy of maidservants toward her
husband. “I thought I’d take a walk,” she said. “Are you going out, Ran?”

“I’m going to the night market in Wuchang Town,” Mo Ran said, keeping the bamboo curtain of
the carriage firmly closed.
“Such a short way to ride,” she said affectionately. “You have company?”

As she wasn’t annoying him, Mo Ran replied. “Yes,” he said.

“Ah, my little sister, Consort Chu,” Song Qiutong said, seeing the yellow rosewood petals on the
ground. She put on a happy smile.

“Yes,” Mo Ran said again, carefully not looking at Chu Wanning’s face.

Song Qiutong’s expression brightened. “Wonderful,” she said. “I’m so glad to finally meet her,
after we have lived in the same palace for three years.”

“With such an aloof personality, I can’t force a meeting,” Mo Ran said. “Don’t bother.”

Humiliated, the accumulated resentment that Song Qiutong had always been careful to hide started
to bubble up. She had been neglected by her husband since the consort had come into their
marriage bed, and it had become more difficult for her to be an obedient wife. She couldn’t help
but remember the concubine’s wedding night, when Mo Ran had spent until dawn amusing himself
with his new consort. He hadn’t given her so much of his attention, ever, and the ladies in the court
had whispered at how she had been slighted despite her incredible beauty.

Even Song Qiutong’s maidservant had cast her sly glances, whispering under her breath where she
thought she wouldn’t be heard. She had smiled to Song Qiutong’s face, advising her mistress to
take pleasure in the fact that the concubine wasn’t pregnant despite Mo Ran spending every night
in her bed. Song Qiutong had no choice but to grit her teeth and maintain as much dignity as she
could.

remind me again why I’m supposed to dislike her? She’s in a super shitty situation and has
been very tolerant of it

Making sure Song Qiutong never got pregnant seemed to be one of Mo Ran’s priorities; he had
only once come to her without warning, and even then he had been drunk and calling Consort
Chu’s name. She had been humiliated all over again. Faced with her sister-in-marriage in the
carriage, Song Qiutong arranged her face in a smile. “I would still like to meet my sister, your
majesty.”

“There’s no need,” Mo Ran said, and Song Qiutong had no choice but to acquiesce.

Once she was out of earshot, Mo Ran collapsed back on the seat and laughed and laughed. Chu
Wanning simply looked at him gloomily in the golden sunlight. “Aren’t you hot?” he said stiffly.

“My beloved concubine’s voice is cold enough to keep me cool in summer,” Mo Ran cackled.

Furious, Chu Wanning only glared at him. He had been humiliated by hearing Song Qiutong refer
to him as her little sister – it wasn’t manly for a man to be a concubine to another man.
Furthermore, for him to be concubine to a woman younger than he was was beyond intolerable.

“It’s not like she saw you,” Mo Ran cajoled. “You don’t need to be pissed off.” Something about
Chu Wanning’s face finally got through to him, for he ceased his teasing and threw himself back
against the seat cushion looking bored.

Overcompensating by shopping, Mo Ran bought more than he could reasonably load into the
carriage. Chu Wanning simply stared, declining to participate in the festivities. His irritation
peaked at the sight of the carriage full of candy and fripperies. “I want to stay in town tonight,” he
said, and went into an inn. “I want a room,” Chu Wanning said. His face was hidden under his
hood, but his voice was male. The receptionist’s eyebrow went up. “Two rooms,” Chu Wanning
amended.

The Evil Overlord frowned, irritated. “What is this bullshit,” he said. “Are you trying to hide your
relationship with me?”

The receptionist, who had been suspicious, suddenly looked as if he had had a revelation. The Evil
Overlord smirked at his poleaxed expression, and dragged Chu Wanning behind him to the room.
As soon as the door closed, he was all over Chu Wanning with lips and fingers.

“Mo Ran, what’s the point of this?” Chu Wanning asked as Mo Ran shoved him into the bed.
“Why do you do this to us?” His words were so sharp that his heart ached, even years later.

The Evil Overlord opened his eyes to the Red Lotus Pavilion, memories fading. He heard the
ghostly sound of pouring rain, associating it with the feeling of making love. He saw himself and
Chu Wanning entwined on the bed, the room very dark but Chu Wanning’s face clearly visible. In
the vision, he stared at the man beneath him with deep affection. “I just want to make you feel
good,” he heard him say.

the fuck was the point of that flashback, honestly, it was just self-indulgent boring shit

Feeling as if his skull was about to split open, the Evil Overlord pressed his fingers into his skull.
He didn’t know which memories were real and which were false, and he couldn’t bear to try to
figure it out. He ran away from the Red Lotus Pavilion, toward the training arenas. He panted,
staring at the mountains, and thought perhaps he had seen the memory of his other self.

oh what a stunning and unexpected revelation, your other self gave you his soul and said here
take my memories and you experience memories that you don’t recognize and think HEY
MAYBE THEY WERE FROM THAT OTHER GUY WHO SAID HE’D GIVE ME MY
MEMORIES I JUST DON’T KNOW FOR SURE THOUGH how fucking dumb is this
drawn-out bullcrap

The Evil Overlord couldn’t help but think back to Chu Wanning’s moist and gentle eyes as he
panted on the couch, and he couldn’t believe that Chu Wanning might have willingly fucked
Grandmaster Mo. He was furious that his Chu Wanning would fuck someone else, and his grip on
the fence tightened. There was nothing for him in this world, he decided, and dipped a finger into
the bone-chillingly cold lotus pond.

Following Hua Binan’s orders was becoming more and more irksome, as Mo Ran hated this empty
world more and more. Hua Binan had happily abandoned him here to live in the good world, the
one where all of his friends and family were still alive. Hua Binan sent him letters, which only
made it worse; he hated Hua Binan’s scorpion-like handwriting. He couldn’t discard them, though,
as they were his only link to the people he loved.

“I’ve lost my mind,” the Evil Overlord muttered. Sometimes he had resorted to ordering his
servants to eat dinner in front of him, so he could see people interacting. Sometimes he could only
flip through books in the middle of the night. There was no one for him to share his meals with, or
anything.

After the feast, Mo Ran received a report. “The Sacred Hand has returned, your majesty.”

I’m sorry when did we change scenes

“Alone?”
“Tianyin Pavilion’s Master Mu Yanli is with him.” The messenger bowed. “Sacred Hand also
wanted to tell your majesty to be careful, as he will definitely come to this chaotic world.”

“Excellent,” Mo Ran said, smiling. “I understand.”

The two worlds had crossed, victims had fled, and Grandmaster Mo had died. Sisheng Peak had
fallen, and Chu Wanning should come looking for him. Mo Ran wasn’t afraid; he was excited.

were we in another fucking flashback???

Late at night, the palace was lit by flickering candles. The Evil Overlord called Eunuch Liu to
extinguish half of them, and when it was finished, he was still dissatisfied. He gave the order to
extinguish the rest of them. As the lights dimmed, the Evil Overlord’s heart brightened. He was
sure Chu Wanning was about to arrive, dressed in white and looking resentful.

Mo Ran ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth and lips, leaving only one lamp alit in the entire
palace. The rain began to fall outside the window. Putting on the most solemn golden silk robe he
owned, the Evil Overlord tided up the bed and acquired a jar of aged pear blossom white. He stood
by the window, watching the rain, and planned to teach Chu Wanning a lesson with No Return
when he finally arrived.

------

The night wore on, and Chu Wanning did not arrive. Mo Ran began to feel uneasy, then depressed,
and then worried. He paced back and forth, wondering what was keeping his lover away – he
should have gone through the gate and come to Wushan Palace to investigate. There was nothing
that should have kept him from acting according to his nature.

Unless, Mo Ran thought suddenly, Chu Wanning was dead. His fingernails bit into his palms, and
he shuddered. He had spent most of his life with Chu Wanning, and he refused to accept his death
again. The night grew darker, and the lamp burned lower. The Evil Overlord grew more and more
afraid, the fear on his heart like ink stains on a piece of paper constantly stained with blood.

A faint inaudible noise came from the roof, and he felt warmth return to his body. His eyes were
bright with hatred. He gnashed his teeth, kicking open the door and vaulting onto the roof in the
midst of the torrential downpour. “Chu Wanning!” he howled. “He’s dead. Why are you so
depressed? After he dies, do you not even care about the world?”

Without looking, the Evil Overlord slashed with his saber. Three or four blows rang out in the rain
as the metal weapons clashed. Thunder crashed overhead.

“I thought you put the lives of others before yours!” Mo Ran taunted. “But now you come looking
for me? You’re no better than anyone else!”

“Such bullshit,” came a weary voice.

The Evil Overlord narrowed his eyes at the sound of a voice that wasn’t Chu Wanning’s. He
pressed harder, swinging his sword hard enough to break the other man’s blade. It clearly wasn’t a
holy weapon, just an ordinary sword, and the pieces clattered onto the roof. “What the fuck,” Mo
Ran said. “You come to assassinate me and you don’t even have a decent weapon?” He pointed No
Return dramatically. “Show me your face.”

The man looked up slowly, and lightning forked through the sky to illuminate Xue Meng’s pale
face. He stood, hands trembling slightly, and Mo Ran glanced down to see Longcheng broken on
the tiles. He narrowed his eyes.
“You again,” he said, and then smirked. “Or should I say, Ah, it’s you, my dear brother.” Thunder
rumbled, and Xue Meng closed his eyes. “We just fought for the first time,” Mo Ran realized,
delighted. “You’re so cute.”

“Give my parents back,” Xue Meng said, and opened his eyes. “Give me back my cousin!”

“Ah, it’s so nice to be a grandmaster,” Mo Ran said. “You’re all obsessed with him. But did he
ever tell you that he was actually me? He remembered everything I did.”

The more Mo Ran spoke, the angrier he became. He faced off against Xue Meng on the rooftop in
the rain. Indignation painted his face.

“He lied to you, he lied to the sect, he lied about his own reputation, and he deserves to die. How
are we different?”

“You’re not the same at all,” Xue Meng gritted out.

The rain flowed past their feet in a torrent. “Laughable,” Mo Ran said. “We’re the same person.”

“You’re not,” Xue Meng insisted.

“Fuck you and your mother,” the evil Overlord spat.

That particular insult, coming right on top of Madam Wang’s death, ignited rage. Xue Meng
ignited flames in his palm, sending the incantation toward Mo Ran. He wasn’t skilled enough to
harm even a hair on the man’s head, and Mo Ran grabbed Xue Meng’s arm and twisted it before
glancing down.

“By the way,” he said. “If the two of you don’t come out right now, I’m going to crush his arm.”

The brothers Mei climbed gracefully onto the roof, but the Evil Overlord didn’t seem surprised
that there were two of them. One held a zither, the other a sword. The Evil Overlord looked
between them and sneered.

“How is it that you support Xue Meng unconditionally no matter what world you’re in?” he asked.

Mei Hanxue smiled. “What, do you think we’re all like you? Repaying kindness with vengeance?”

The words hit the Evil Overlord’s sore spot, and he glared. “I see you have a death wish.” He
grabbed Xue Meng’s hair. “I might spare him, since our teacher protected him, but I have no
qualms whatsoever about you.”

“You asshole!” Xue Meng glared. “Don’t talk about him!”

“What, Chu Wanning?” Mo Ran lifted his erstwhile teammate with one hand and stared into his
drenched face. The scattered memories tugged at his mind, and he was suddenly so jealous of
Grandmaster Mo that he couldn’t breathe. “And why not?” he asked coldly. “Do you know what
kind of relationship we had? Didn’t your oh so honest cousin tell you?”

“What ridiculous bullshit are you spouting now?” Xue Meng spat, eyes widening.

“Oh, you knew there was something off,” the Evil Overlord said. “You could tell.”

Stiff in his grasp, Xue Meng began to tremble violently. The Evil Overlord found his distress
exciting. Grandmaster Mo had tainted Chu Wanning, and he had been afraid that the relationship
would be made public. He couldn’t let the hypocrite get away with it, he decided.
“You still don’t know?” he taunted.

“No, don’t say it,” Xue Meng mumbled.

“That means you know?”

“Don’t say it!”

The Evil Overlord began to laugh loudly, his gaze filled with savagery and madness. “It seems like
you know what’s at the back of your mind.”

“Mo Ran!”

“Chu Wanning belongs in my bed.” He cocked his head, looking calmly at Xue Meng. “I fucked
him in this life, and in my other life. I fucked him in Wuchang Town, in Miaoyin Springs, in the
rooms at Taobao Villa, and at Red Lotus Pavilion. I fucked him from here to there and back
again.” His eyes flashed with venomous luster. “I fucked him right in front of you, in fact.”

Xue Meng felt as if his body had been turned to ice. “You,” he said, and his voice failed.

“Remember before you went up to Mount Jiao? And you went to Chu Wanning’s room? And
asked if he had a fever? Yeah, he looked like that because I was blowing him below the blankets.”

Paler and paler, Xue Meng covered his ears. “Stop!” he cried, shaking his head, but his distress
only egged the Evil Overlord on. His face turned green and he swallowed hard.

Pleased by his reaction, the Evil Overlord laughed out loud. “What, you thought he was so pure?
Please. He was a filthy pervert.”

An explosive boom interrupted the Evil Overlord’s gleeful taunting, and he turned to see the
Heaven-Piercing Tower on fire. Monsters turned into golden beams of light and flew into the sky
amidst the storm, and he heard the cry of phoenixes. Zither music transformed the beasts into
human forms, and they converged on a single spot on the ground.

“Nine Songs?” the Evil Overlord muttered, and forgot about Xue Meng.

The Heaven-Piercing Tower stood in a lake of flame, Zhenlong chess pieces fighting against an
army of demons. Two men in snow-white robes separated the two halves of the battle. One was
Hua Binan, the other a murderous-looking Chu Wanning. The Evil Overlord relaxed to see his
lover still alive, and then he was furious that Chu Wanning was associating with that slut Hua
Binan.

“Why are you all the way over there?” Hua Binan asked, glaring at the Evil Overlord. With his
naturally weak qi, he had to rely on the chess pieces to fight Chu Wanning. “Come help me!”

Obeying instantly, the Evil Overlord landed in front of Hua Binan with No Return in his hand. He
heard Hua Binan heave a sigh of relief behind him. “Go,” he said. “I’ll hold him off.”

“Lock him up after the fight,” Hua Binan said. “Or he’ll ruin our plans.” With those words, he
vanished into the night.

“I knew you wouldn’t just stand by and watch,” the Evil Overlord gloated. “Chu Wanning! But I
didn’t think you’d go looking for that asshole before you came to find me.”

Face pale, Chu Wanning did not reply. His thoughts could not be divined from his expressionless
face. He and the Evil Overlord fought, exchanging over a hundred moves in an instant. The Evil
Overlord found it stimulating.

“You think you can’t beat me?” he taunted. His saber slashed downward, bouncing off the zither
with a twang. “Because you don’t know how to face Xue Meng?”

The pain made the Evil Overlord vicious, his blade moving incredibly fast. Grandmaster Mo’s
spirit core had made him even more formidable, and jealousy seeped between his teeth. Golden
light met jade light, and an unbreakable barrier appeared between them at the flick of Chu
Wanning’s finger.

Flower petals drifted along the barrier, and the Evil Overlord slammed his sword against it. It
sparked, and he slammed a hand against it instead. The barrier dimmed and then lit up bright red –
Grandmaster Mo’s spiritual color. Chu Wanning was stunned.

“Is it because, sir,” the Evil Overlord said, gentling his expression. “Is it because you didn’t want
to see me die again?”

Chu Wanning missed a note, and the barrier weakened. No Return hacked downward, and the
barrier shattered. Chu Wanning reeled from the backlash of his qi snapping back into him, and
realized he’d fallen into the trap. “Mo Weiyu!” he shouted.

Pleased with his crafty scheme, the Evil Overlord cackled maniacally. Lightning flashed across his
face as he grabbed Chu Wanning by the chin and hauled him to his feet. “You’re finally willing to
talk,” he said. “I was beginning to think you were mute.”

------

Note: this translation is based on the version Meatbun posted on her weibo and deleted a few
minutes later, including sexual content which was not present on JJWXC.

As outside in a torrential downpour was not a good place for conversation, Emperor Evil Overlord
brought Chu Wanning back to Wushan Palace. He noted briefly that Xue Meng and the brothers
Mei were no longer around, and entered the dry hall. The lantern he had lit at the beginning of the
night had gone out, but the Evil Overlord didn’t care.

Pushing Chu Wanning onto the bed, he looked at him coldly. None of the words he wanted to say
would come, so he grabbed Chu Wanning’s cold wet face. “You’d better learn that Grandmaster
Mo is dead,” he snarled. “And he’s not coming back.”

Chu Wanning felt as if he had been stabbed by needles and began to tremble. The Evil Overlord
felt more jealousy and hatred, and he smashed his mouth against his opponent’s ice-cold lips. He
pulled back only briefly to grab a pill from the bedside table.

“I don’t want to see your reluctant face. Swallow it.”

When Chu Wanning frowned, the Evil Overlord forced the pill down his throat with first his
fingers and then his tongue. Chu Wanning finally swallowed it, and Mo Ran pulled away. Chu
Wanning curled on his side and coughed hard enough to make himself vomit.

“I don’t remember you puking when he was the one touching you,” the Evil Overlord said
spitefully. Chu Wanning paled as if he had seen a ghost, staring up at the Evil Overlord’s mocking
face. “Did you think no one knew? I know better than anyone what you did.”

The Evil Overlord peeled off his rain-soaked robe and went over to the bed. His broad shoulders
were slightly hunched as he propped himself up to look at the man beneath him. Rain fell from his
hair onto Chu Wanning’s face, and he licked the moisture off.

“Still so sensitive,” he chuckled when Chu Wanning tensed.

Uncaring of his lover’s grief, the Evil Overlord watched him tremble. The sight of pain began to
calm him, and he watched Chu Wanning’s face slowly turn red from shock and the effects of the
pill he had swallowed. He sighed happily.

“I bet he didn’t fuck you from behind,” he said, and began to talk dirty. As the aphrodisiac began to
take effect, the Evil Overlord’s wandering hands grew more and more wanton. He was excited by
the foreplay in a way he never had been before, but they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Your majesty,” called a messenger. “The Sacred Hand invites –“

“Get out!” the Evil Overlord screamed, throwing a nearby teacup to shatter on the door. The
messenger withdrew hastily, and spread the word that the emperor’s chambers were not to be
entered.

Thunder and lightning sparked off of wind and rain outside, blanketing the formerly desolate
Wushan Palace. The Evil Overlord felt happiness fill him as he watched Chu Wanning writhe
beneath him, skin flushing crimson. His consort had finally returned, he thought, and the warmth
had returned to his world.

The Evil Overlord took his sweet time fucking Chu Wanning, as his lover cried with grief over the
death of Grandmaster Mo. The Evil Overlord clutched him to him, terrified that Chu Wanning
would leave amidst his passion, and Chu Wanning struggled against the effects of the aphrodisiac.
Eventually his vision dimmed and he clutched at the Evil Overlord.

“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning gasped, and the Evil Overlord froze with his cock up Chu Wanning’s
ass, because his teacher had never taken the initiative to hug him before. He flipped Chu Wanning
onto his back and started all over again.

Chu Wanning, Mo Ran knew, was his invincible sworn enemy and the teacher he couldn’t defile,
the pure Holy Grace Immortal in the eyes of the world and a man he wanted but had never been
able to have. He was filled with joy as he fucked him senseless. When they had finished, he leaned
over to kiss Chu Wanning’s temple with a contented sigh.

“Go to sleep,” he said, pulling the brocade quilt still sticky with the evidence of their multiple
orgasms over both of them.

The Evil Overlord slept holding onto Chu Wanning, feeling at peace. Chu Wanning, on the other
hand, felt sticky, full of sweat and fluids as the artificially-induced lust faded. He began to hear the
rain and feel that he was being cuddled without his consent. He felt a momentary stab of terror, not
knowing when or where he was.

It occurred to him that although the Mo Ran beneath him was a living corpse, he was reacting and
acting like he had while alive. He wasn’t sure why. His chaotic thoughts and emotions gradually
faded, and he forced himself to calm down. He knew he was in Wushan Palace, and that the Mo
Ran beneath him wasn’t his injured beloved who had died in his arms.

The sorrow rose up in Chu Wanning’s throat, and he suppressed his emotions into oblivion. The
sound in the room gradually died down as the two men embraced each other in the depths of their
desperate situation. The bright and dim light from the dense flame outside the window made it
difficult for anyone to see inside, and the heavy rain grew heavier and heavier.

In the middle of the night, Chu Wanning opened his eyes to see that Mo Ran had already fallen
asleep. Perhaps the Evil Overlord thought he was no threat, Chu Wanning thought as the other
man’s body pressed him into the mattress. He looked at his face, and he realized that the man next
to him had a heartbeat. Chu Wanning blinked, and then remembered the fragments of Mo Ran’s
spiritual core.

Chu Wanning told himself not to dwell on it, because Mo Ran was dead, but he could feel the slow
and powerful heartbeat in the soulless body next to him. He knew what he had to do, his heart hard
as iron, and brilliant light gathered in his palm. Chu Wanning silently stared at the sleeping man
next to him, and the light was very dim. It was hard to see the difference between Grandmaster Mo
and the Evil Overlord in the shadows.

The memory of Wuchang Town rose unbidden in Chu Wanning’s mind, when he and Mo Ran had
fucked for the first time, and he remembered kissing Mo Ran’s face. He shook his head, reminding
himself that Mo Ran was dead and a corpse was a corpse even if its heart was beating. He knew
there was no soul in the body below him, and Mo Ran was dead.

The man who had fucked him shouldn’t have had memories, if he was truly dead, or show his
emotions so clearly in his eyes, Chu Wanning knew. He was startled, unable to think of it any
longer. He closed his eyes, summoned Embracing Sands, and stabbed toward the Evil Overlord’s
chest.

The blade didn’t pierce skin, and Chu Wanning opened his eyes to find his dagger buried up to the
hilt in mattress. The rain was too quick, and it poured through the open window in the corner.
White lightning lanced through the open frame into the center of the room.

“You probably shouldn’t do that again,” said the Evil Overlord.

Chu Wanning slowly turned around to see his lover leaning against the bedpost, a shallow cut
across his chest. He looked at Chu Wanning coldly for a moment before flickering forward to
catch Chu Wanning’s wrist. He dislocated his arm almost absentmindedly.

“I didn’t think you’d still want to kill me,” he mused. “You know, I’m stronger than I used to be.”
He stared at the pain on Chu Wanning’s face. “It’s not surprising, you know, I have his soul and
his spiritual core, and all I had to do over the last seven or eight years was train. It’s amazing how
far you can go if you really push yourself.”

The light of Embracing Sands vanished, sucked back into Chu Wanning’s bones and blood. Chu
Wanning didn’t make a noise as the Evil Overlord continued to pontificate. In the corner, the wind
howled.

“I learned everything from you before,” the Evil Overlord said. “But not now. And, sir, you’re
frankly just not strong enough to beat me.” He paused again. “I should show you what I’ve been
doing, actually.”

Without further ado, the Evil Overlord brought Chu Wanning to the peak of the mountain. Both of
them were dressed in clothing Eunuch Liu had provided on the Evil Overlord’s order, and he had
even given Chu Wanning privacy in which to dress. The fresh clothes were soon as soaked as the
old in the heavy rain, and eventually the Evil Overlord snapped open a lazy barrier against the
precipitation.

The ominous red light in the sky shone overhead, and the Evil Overlord gave Chu Wanning a smile
that was not a smile. “Sisheng Peak is at the confluence of Yin and Yang, you know,” he said
conversationally. “That’s why the barrier is at its weakest here. Did you ever feel anything but the
ghosts when you repaired it?”

Chu Wanning did not answer, but clenched his fingers into a fist under his robe. He knew already
what he would see – the open Gate of Life and Death, Zhenlong chess pieces rampaging through
the world, and he was going to have to fix it. They passed the narrow path leading to the back of
the mountain.

“Don’t you think the towns and villages are too quiet?” the Evil Overlord said. The next corner led
to the cliff at the back of the mountain, and he stopped in his tracks. A raging fire seemed to burn
behind the cliff, and he grinned at Chu Wanning. “I have had much success here. If you please,
sir.”

------

Before their eyes was a bridge, stretching from the edge of the cliff to the end of the sky. At its
other and lay a floating stone gate, tall among the clouds, wreathed in scarlet flame. Lightning
crackled above it.

“Sir, do you still remember telling us that the demons were driven out by Gouchen the Exalted?”
The Evil Overlord looked toward the stone door. “The Demon Lord fled with his army, and
ordered the doors to the mortal world sealed to conceal his shame. But he left one open, and here it
is. The Door of Martyrdom.”

Chu Wanning was not looking at the Door of Martyrdom; he was staring at the bridge. He paled,
recognizing it. “Mo Weiyu, are you out of your mind?”

“It’s a spectacular bridge,” the Evil Overlord said. “What, you don’t like it?”

The bridge was made of not stone or wood but countless corpses of men and women. They were
densely packed, forming a walkway five feet wide. Chu Wanning couldn’t begin to guess how
many dead there were.

“Since it is a Door of Martyrdom, there must be a Path of Martyrdom.” The Evil Overlord
shrugged indifferently, and blew a whistle. Blue light flashed in the distance. “There are some
things you still don’t know,” he added. “I’d like to tell you if you don’t mind, sir.”

Mo Ran explained that while Chu Wanning knew that Gouchen the Exalted had forged the first
sword in the battle between the first king and the demon lord, he didn’t know that the demon lord
had been harboring hatred and a desire for revenge ever since. Gouchen’s mother’s clan had been
expelled from the demon realm, Mo Ran told him. It had been difficult for the demons, as their
energy expenditure was enormous and they had to continuously eat to feed their spiritual cores.

The demons exiled to the mortal world were unable to sustain their spiritual cores, and eventually
they diminished so far that they only had two uses. The Evil Overlord paused his explanation and
looked at Chu Wanning. “Those uses were cultivation and breeding,” he said.

“The Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feast,” Chu Wanning said.

“That’s right,” said the Evil Overlord generously. “They were such strong demons, evolved to have
a body suitable for dual cultivation to pass strong spiritual cores on to their children. But they were
weakened by being here.” He looked at Chu Wanning. “And they were all extraordinarily
beautiful.”
Not needing the explanation for how the cultivation world viewed the Butterfly-Boned Beauty
Feasts, Chu Wanning nodded impatiently. He remembered Song Qiutong at the Xuanyuan auction
house. The blue light drew closer.

“Now that their strength is nearly gone, they have to conceal their identities,” Mo Ran said.

“How?” Chu Wanning asked.

“A question!” Mo Ran clapped. “The first one you asked! It’s simple. What gives them away is
their golden tears, so they just have to not cry.”

Chu Wanning did not utter a word; it was easier said than done, he felt. The demons would have
been forced to shed tears, if the cultivators seeking them had noticed their beauty. He began to feel
a suspicion as to where Mo Ran was leading him.

“As they weakened and hid, some bred with mortals. The children with strong demonic traits had to
learn not to cry,” Mo Ran continued.

“Song Xingyi,” Chu Wanning said.

“Oh, yeah, he was lucky,” the Evil Overlord said. “Some of the children are super lucky, and have
normal tears. They aren’t demonic at all, they can produce a spiritual core, and they have good qi.
But there haven’t been many. Only a few were able to reach the status of grandmaster.” He waved
a hand. “So a lot of them want to go back to the demon world, where mortals wont’ try to eat them
or fuck them to death.”

The blue light resolved into the shape of five horses galloping along the path. Chu Wanning caught
sight of it over the Evil Overlord’s shoulder. Rain poured down, obscuring his vision.

“It’s not easy to go back to the demon realm,” the Evil Ovrlord said. “The Demon Lord has his
blood feud, and he doesn’t want those demons back. The first one, anyway,” he amended. “The
second one was more lenient.”

Chu Wanning’s eyes shifted slightly. “He allowed the Butterfly-Boned Beauties to return to the
Demonic World?”

“He granted permission.” The Evil Overlord smiled. “But as you saw, sir, he set up a barrier that
could only be breached through forbidden techniques.”

Chu Wanning’s heart skipped a beat as he finally understood. He stared at the Evil Overlord, who
was explaining that the path of martyrdom – formed by people who had willingly sacrificed
themselves – could only have been created through Zhenlong chess. “How many people did you
kill?” Chu Wanning asked.

“All of them,” the Evil Overlord said. “Almost.” Chu Wanning shuddered as the sight of the
bridge became even more horrifying in his eyes. “Do you know how long the bridge is? But it’s
not long enough. I’ve killed nearly everyone here, and it’s not long enough. So I had to open the
gate to acquire more Zhenlong chess pieces from the other world.”

“You’re out of your mind!” Chu Wanning blurted out.

“I knew you’d say that,” the Evil Overlord sneered, turning his gaze to the approaching carriage.
“Gate of Life and Death, Zhenlong chess, and then the rebirth technique. And then they can all go
home.”
Anger and fear rendered Chu Wanning speechless. He trembled. The rain poured down around
them, dampening his dark eyes.

“You must be wondering why the Demon Lord is playing these games,” the Evil Overlord said.
“It’s because the techniques were created by Gouchen, and the clan was convicted because of
Gouchen. It’s poetic justice.”

The five horses broke through the flames and clattered to a halt at the front of the bridge. The Evil
Overlord’s robe flapped in the wind, and he stepped forward to stroke the nearest horse’s skull.
With a queasy rush, Chu Wanning saw that the horses were skeletal.

“All of Hua Binan’s plans are because of the Butterfly-Boned Beauties, sir,” the Evil Overlord
said. “Now do you understand?”

------

Chu Wanning understood very well that Shi Mingjing had concealed his true identity from the very
beginning – he had avoided talking about his parents, slipping out of the questions by looking
sorrowful and pathetic – and he had never shed a single tear. The Evil Overlord clapped him on the
shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “To the end of the path.”

The carriage was made of gold and decorated with demonic statues, the one on the left a bearded
man with an imposing aura. He was ugly and tiresome. The statue on the right was a plump, ugly
woman. Four bloody limbs and a head carved of wood were fastened to the front of the carriage,
the face resembling Gouchen.

“They all look like that,” Mo Ran said, climbing inside. He sat comfortably. “You know who the
statues are supposed to be.”

“Fuxi the first king and Nuwa,” guessed Chu Wanning.

“Oh, yeah. The demons hate them a lot.”

Chu Wanning turned to look at the path outside the window, flashing by behind the extremely fast
demonic horses. It only took a few minutes to reach the end of the long, bloody bridge. He
dismounted, seeing the edge of the bridge against a sea of clouds, backlit by the gate to the demon
realm. The break in the barrier was far larger than anything he’d seen while at Sisheng Peak.

The colossal door leading to heaven was covered in exquisite carvings, representing the many
realms. The demon realm was depicted highest, followed by ghosts, and then humans, with the
heavens at the bottom. They were unfathomably weird, Chu Wanning thought, being in the wrong
order.

“Yeah, I thought was weird, too,” the Evil Overlord said. “It’s made of the bones of immortals, by
the way, back when the demon lord caught and skinned them during the great war.” He chuckled.
“So that’s where we are. Still going to bitch at me?”

“What, you want me to tell you you did well?” Chu Wanning snapped. “You’re murdering two
worlds just so that they can go home?”

A commotion rang out behind them, and the Evil Overlord turned to see Mu Yanli leading
thousands of people from the back of the mountain. She was stunned to see the two of them. “Why
is he here?” she snapped. “He’s going to cause trouble.”

“No, he won’t,” the Evil Overlord said lazily. “I can tell what he’ll do. It’s fine.”
“This is too important to risk,” she insisted.

“So who’s going to fight him?” the Evil Overlord asked, and Mu Yanli choked. “He’s not going to
get away from me, so stop bitching.”

“You!”

“Look, I can send him back if you want, but don’t you want him where we can see him?”

Speechless, Mu Yanli glared for a long moment. “Fine,” she bit out. “I’ve got some more material
for the bridge. Make it happen. And then we need more chess pieces.” She flicked her sleeves and
left, and the Evil Overlord grinned at Chu Wanning.

“You’re in for a treat,” he said. “Watch me build the bridge.”

It was such a horrifying scene that it gave Chu Wanning nightmares. He saw Xue Meng among the
chess pieces, Xue Zhengyong, Madam Wang. He even saw Mo Ran amidst the sacrifices. It woke
him up and he gasped for breath, unable to move after the Evil Overlord had bound him to the bed.

The room was quiet and he was alone, too thin after the stress of the recent days and completely
buried in the quilt. The memories of all of his lives merged with the visions of piles of corpses and
a hopeless future, and his eyes became empty. He knew reality was no better than the nightmare.

The only time to stop Shi Mei, he knew, was before the gate had fully opened. Otherwise it would
be nearly impossible to defeat him. Chu Wanning sat in the empty Wushan Palace, knowing that he
had lost to Shi Me in the end. He had discovered the truth too late to do anything but delay the
calamity by a few years.

Although the glorious, unparalleled Chu Wanning had done his best, he had nothing to show for it
in the end. More than one book recorded the fact that the gate would lead to utter chaos and
heaven’s punishment. Chu Wanning knew that time and space would unravel, and it occurred to
him that there was really no need to stress about it.

When he returned that day, he brought a pot of Pear Blossom White. He poured a cup and said, “So
the path is pretty much done.” The Evil Overlord took a sip. “And when we’re done, I’ll be free.”
He looked at Chu Wanning. “When they go back to the demon world, do you want to stay here
with me or should we go back to your other world?”

Chu Wanning looked at him and asked, “Where is Shi Mei?”

“Beats me,” the Evil Overlord said, stunned. He rubbed his forehead as if in pain.

Chu Wanning knew that Hua Binan had confused the Evil Overlord, and indeed the man in front
of him appeared to be suffering a splitting headache. He slammed his cup down. He glared at Chu
Wanning with sleepy red eyes.

“I don’t know,” he snarled. He opened his eyes and pulled Chu Wanning toward him, pressing his
forehead against Chu Wanning’s waist. He sniffed the scent of crabapple. “Don’t ask me,” he
muttered.

Over the following days, the Evil Overlord went more bonkers. He seemed to fear that Chu
Wanning would disappear or die at any moment, so he kept him trapped. He made Zhenlong chess
pieces to build the bridge, and then returned at night to fuck his concubine.

When asleep, he would whimper with something like love in his voice. “Pay attention to me, sir.”
------

The door creaked open on the sixth day, the rain still pouring down outside, to admit someone with
rain-soaked clothes. “Sir,” he said, dressed in funeral white with a headband. Shi Mei had come to
Wushan Palace for the first time. “I wanted to visit you before, sir, but I didn’t have time until
today.”

Chu Wanning only glanced at him before looking away. Shi Mei didn’t seem to mind, smiling
brightly as he sat in front of Chu Wanning. His peach blossom eyes held a hint of green.

“Are you still angry?” he asked. “The gate is about to open to the demon world. Don’t you have
anything else to ask me, sir?”

Chu Wanning stared out of the window at the rain instead of answering. He had vowed only to
show vulnerability to those he loved, so he would be a rock in front of Shi Mingjing. No amount of
persistence would break through, he knew.

“I came to have an honest conversation with you,” Shi Mei said. “Say something, sir.”

“Get lost,” Chu Wanning said.

“Ah,” Shi Mei said, smiling. He was calmer and calmer the closer he got to success, and got up to
pour tea. The rain drummed on the windows as he handed one cup to Chu Wanning and kept one.
“I’ll have to do the talking, sir. I don’t like to explain myself, but I don’t want you to
misunderstand.”

villain monologue time!!

Shi Mei blew on the tea to cool it and slowly took a sip. Chu Wanning clenched his fists
unconsciously, and the veins on the back of his hands bulged. His expression remained cold.

“I really don’t like killing innocent people,” Shi Mei mused. “Although I’ve done a lot of terrible
shit. But you see that road, sir? I wanted to build it with people who deserved to die, but then I
realized it would take way too long. I’m not happy about it either. I didn’t actually kill them with
my own hands, though, sir. I wasn’t lying when I said that.”

“I believe that you never used your own hands to kill anyone,” Chu Wanning said unexpectedly.
“You’re kind and soft-hearted, so you don’t want to do your own dirty work. You get other people
to do it for you – the Evil Overlord does everything you don’t want to do. Very clever of you.”

“That’s mean, sir,” Shi Mei sighed. “You say that like he wouldn’t have done terrible things
without the parasite flower.”

“He wouldn’t,” Chu Wanning said, looking into Shi Mei’s eyes.

Chuckling, Shi Mei waved a dismissive hand. “Forget it,” he said. “I don’t want to argue about
this, sir. I once told Nangong Xu that I hoped his world would be able to remain intact, and I meant
it. But what you have to understand is that for the Butterfly-Boned Beauty Clan, extending
kindness to others is a death sentence. I don’t have a choice.”

Chu Wanning closed his eyes. Shi Mei refilled his empty cup, looking at the rising steam. After a
moment, he continued to speak.

“Sir, you may not understand why I think it’s worth it to kill two worlds full of people just so we
can go home. But we’re desperate. The humans treat us like objects. They eat us and fuck us and
sell us like cattle. If they had treated us like people instead, I wouldn’t have had to resort to this.”
He paused for a moment, face unreadable. “We never wanted to hurt anyone, but we were
butchered. What the humans have done to us is unforgivable, sir, and your history books will never
reflect it. You don’t see us as human, and you don’t think there’s any point in recording how you
treat livestock.”

Shi Mei gripped the teacup tightly, knuckles whitening. He looked away, at the pounding rain. The
moisture dripped from the ends of his hair, sliding downwards to shatter on the floor.

“Almost all of our pure-blooded ancestors were killed in the eleventh year of the human-demon
war, but we were still unable to escape the greed of cultivators who used us for our qi. For
thousands of years, we were sought out, bred, eaten, and fucked without our consent. Instead of
exterminating us, they made us suffer for their own selfish goals.” Shi Mei looked up, murderous
fury in his eyes. “You know what Lonemoon Night did to us, sir.”

so I have more sympathy for the genocidal Shi Mei than I do for the cultivators and how they
treat the demon throwbacks

As every text discussing Lonemoon Night treated the matter as a glorious achievement, Chu
Wanning understood that reference. The sect had collected twenty female throwbacks and
impregnated each one using strong and robust cultivators. The pregnancies had been accelerated,
cutting the gestational period from nine to four months, and then labor had been induced. After
each birth, the throwback had been impregnated again and the cycle continued. They had indeed
been bred like livestock.

The male babies had been slaughtered for their meat or sold to the rich. The female babies had
been raised in captivity, being bred like their mothers as soon as they reached maturity. Chu
Wanning remembered his shock and disgust when he had come across the description explaining
the history of Lonemoon Night’s qi-enhancing pills.

Shi Mei laughed at his expression, rage still in his eyes. “They were praised for it,” he snapped.
“Living people, just because they had demonic blood, and they were treated like animals.” His
fingers trembled and he gulped tea. “The elixir stimulating the growth of an embryo is damaging to
the mother,” he said. “None of the women lived past the age of thirty.” He smiled bitterly. “In a
way, it was a mercy, because death allowed them to escape.” Sharp pain crossed his face.

let’s also take a moment to acknowledge how the narrative is treating women yet again

Chu Wanning opened his eyes to look at Shi Mei. For the first time, his former disciple seemed to
be showing him authentic emotion. Hatred carved his face, and he was silent for a long moment.
Finally, he set the teacup down and rubbed his face with his palms. He took a deep breath and
looked up.

“Sir, do you know why Lonemoon Night stopped this practice?”

“There was a murder,” Chu Wanning said hoarsely.

While Jiang Xi’s master had been sect leader, Chu Wanning remembered, one of the throwback
girls had been particularly stubborn and clever. She hadn’t been willing to submit to a life of
horror, and she had used her beauty to seduce a high-ranking disciple of Tianyin Pavilion. She had
begged her lover to rescue her, swearing she would belong to him afterwards.

The Tianyin disciple had lustfully agreed to her request, but she fled from him within a few days.
She had returned to Linling Island and set fire to the courtyard where her sisters were imprisoned.
Over a hundred disciples burned to death in the conflagration, and all of the Butterfly-Boned
Beauties fled. The other sects had rallied to provide assistance, but they had secretly mocked
Lonemoon Night for being so badly damaged by a mere woman.

In a rage, the sect leader had ended the breeding program. The sect’s reputation had plummeted
nonetheless, and they had furiously announced they would no longer provide medicine for other
sects. When Jiang Xi had become sect leader, the only throwback remaining had been Song
Qiutong. She had pledged her service to the sect leader, but as Jiang Xi did not enjoy fucking
women, he had decided to auction her off instead. Shi Mei’s smile twisted as he watched Chu
Wanning remember the incident.

“I have to admit something,” he said.

“What?” Chu Wanning snapped.

“I was there the day Miss Song was auctioned off.” His smile widened at Chu Wanning’s stunned
face. “I was in the first tier seat,” he added. “I was the one who offered thirty-five million.”

“That was you?” Chu Wanning said, vaguely remembering the covered box and placing a higher
bid because he wanted to save the girl.

“It was,” Shi Mei said. His smile faded. “I swore I would protect every throwback I could.” He
paused. “I mean, I also wanted to use No Return to provoke Mo Ran, but that didn’t work out.” He
laughed shortly. “I can’t believe the half of your soul in his body protected him so well that it
resonated with you instead.” Shi Mei grimaced, draining his teacup. “Well, that’s in the past, and
you know how Ye Wangxi bought her.”

“Then why did you let her die?” Chu Wanning asked.

“I couldn’t do anything about it,” Shi Mei said. “I needed to conceal my identity, and Nangong Xu
knew me as Shi Mei of Sisheng Peak. He was my source of power at the time, and I needed to keep
him.” Shi Mei shook his head. “If he’d known I was a Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feast, he wouldn’t
have conspired with me. He wouldn’t have seen me as a person. Look how he treated Miss Song.”

Chu Wanning opened his mouth, and closed it again. He didn’t have anything to say; Shi Mei
wasn’t wrong. In the end, he lowered his eyes and remained silent.

“The one who escaped from Lonemoon Night,” Shi Mei was saying, and Chu Wanning had an
epiphany.

“That was your mother,” he guessed.

Shi Mei’s smile turned wry. “You’re right,” he said.

------

The rain continued to pound on the eaves, and Shi Mei took a sip of tea. He pulled a rusted copper
mirror out of his bag, engraved with a phoenix, a dragon, and the universe. “I want to show you
something,” he said. “This is the Mirror of the Day Before. It was my father’s – his name was Mu,
by the way, and Mu Yanli is my half-sister.”

Shi Mei bit the edge of his finger, dripping blood onto the mirror. It fogged up, and then cleared to
show hazy images. Those also cleared to show Tianyin Pavilion on a scorching summer day. Lotus
blossomed in the pond and a noblewoman in luxurious clothing with a cinnabar mark on her finger
stood feeding the fish. She was elegantly delicate, but cold in appearance. Her phoenix eyes
crowned a fiercely arrogant face.

“That’s not my mother,” Shi Mei said absently. “That’s Sister Mu’s biological mother, from the
Lin family.”

A young woman in a silk dress approached, followed by a maid from the pavilion. She seemed to
be in her late teens, face gentle and virtuous. Shi Mei gently stroked the mirror.

“This is my mother,” he said. “Descended from Song Xingyi, the lord of Huabi. She was raised
like an animal and had no name. She wanted to give herself a name, but Song was associated with
the demons, so she took the name Hua Gui instead. She was the one who found out the conditions
for us to return home.”

In the mirror, Hua Gui spoke gently and respectfully to Madam Lin. Chu Wanning watched the
maid cringe away from the fierce woman, but Hua Gui was unafraid. “How did she get into
Tianyin Pavilion?”

“Oh, her lover helped her. She didn’t abandon him, as the history books say, she begged him to
help her free her people and he was so in love with her that he agreed.” Shi Mei smiled. “He’s the
one who actually set the fire.”

because god forbid a woman actually do something noteworthy without male assistance

Chu Wanning nodded, Shi Mei having confirmed his suspicions that the history books had been in
error. He knew how stories changed over time, and how after enough time had passed, it was
impossible to know the truth of the past. Shi Mei kept talking.

“It took a few years for the cultivation world to forget about the incident,” he was saying. “But
around the time that Madam Lin gave birth to a daughter and needed a maid, my mother was in the
right place at the right time to be hired.”

The mirror’s surface had changed, and Chu Wanning looked back to see Madam Lin reading by a
window and Hua Gin standing by her side holding a baby. It seemed like a wholesome scene at
first, but Chu Wanning felt a surge of emotion. “She later took over from Madam Lin,” he guessed.

“Right again,” Shi Mei said brightly. “She thought it would be better to be the madam of Tianyin
Pavilion than return to the demon realm – that if Tianyin Pavilion endorsed it, the slaughter and
sale of Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts could be prohibited.”

The scene on the mirror changed again, the season switching to winter over the lotus pond. The
flowers were withered, and flying snow filled the air. A woman with a white fox-fur coat stood
next to the pond, looking up as a man approached. Hua Gui smiled at him, face framed by her
hood. Chu Wanning knew somehow that Madam Lin and Hua Gui’s former lover were both dead,
and Hua Gui was the Pavilion Master.

Hua Gui walked up to her husband and kissed his cheek. She reached out to stroke the hair of the
little girl beside him, who was – “Mu Yanli,” Chu Wanning said.

Shi Mei laughed. “Yes. Sir, don’t you understand why Mu Yanli doesn’t give a shit about her
mother?”

Chu Wanning ignored the question and returned to the scene in the mirror. Mu Yanli was no more
than four or five, hugging her stepmother and laughing delightedly. She showed no signs of
distress.
“Madam Lin was a cold woman who hated children,” Shi Mei said, answering his own question.
“After her daughter was born, her mental state slipped. Sometimes she would assault Yanli, and my
mother would save her. Of course Yanli chose my mother over her own.”

The scene changed again, to show a thin layer of frost on a window and Hua Gui seated at a small
rosewood table to write. Two children were with her – Hua Binan and Mu Yanli. The girl was tall
and cold, and the boy had gentle eyes. Hua Gui picked up her paper and showed it to the children.
Chu Wanning saw illustrations for the medical sect’s manuals.

“My father was obsessed with his cultivation,” Shi Mei said. “So he ignored both of us. We spent
most of our time with my mother. She taught us to read and write, and the basics of cultivation.”

“She could use qi?”

“Just a little. Enough to frighten civilians, but not to actually fight a cultivator.” Shi Mei paused for
a moment. “No matter how hard she worked, she always had time for us.”

The scene shifted again, over and over. Chu Wanning watched Mu Yanli and Shi Mei growing up.
They were always with Hua Gui – she coaxed them to sleep on stormy nights and fed them soup
on summer afternoons.

“When I was old enough,” Shi Mei continued, “my father taught me how to cultivate. But I wasn’t
skilled, and he was disappointed. Yanli was much more advanced than I was, and I barely had any
qi at all.”

The scene shifted to little Shi Mei sitting by the pond with a sword resting across his knees. Hua
Gui walked across the bridge, looking around until she found her son. She bent down, whispering
in his ear, and took him back across the garden.

“Many of those in Lonemoon Night had been successful cultivators even with weak qi,” Shi Mei
said. “So she persuaded father to let me start cultivating the path of medicine.”

Chu Wanning was beginning to appreciate just how cunning Hua Gui was; to her, Lonemoon Night
was a hellish nightmare and she hated it. She was, however, still able to assess what it could do
with a clear head and figure out how to use it for her own goals. She was not a woman who would
act rashly.

“She planned everything meticulously,” Shi Mei explained. “One step at a time.”

As the status of the throwbacks had not significantly changed, Chu Wanning thought he knew why
the plans hadn’t succeeded. “So her identity was exposed,” he deduced.

“It shouldn’t have been,” Shi Mei said after a long moment, eyes deep with the sadness of the tide.
“My father is an idiot. But he’s still a descendent of the gods, and he could feel her demonic
blood.” He looked down at the mirror, at where a man lay in bed in the Pavilion Master’s room.
“He began to die when I was nine, and no one knew why. But you can probably guess that it was
because a god fucked a demon and was punished by the heavens.” He paused. “He saw in a dream
the truth of what he had done, and knew that he had to sever all ties with the witch to survive.”

Chu Wanning opened his mouth to speak, and then looked at Shi Mei. He knew there was more to
the story. “Go on.”

“He was furious,” Shi Mei said. “He had been hoodwinked by a piece of livestock, and it was
embarrassing.” He took a deep breath, clutching his teacup with its dregs of cold tea, and it cracked
under his hands. Amber drops spattered the mirror, blurring the outlines of Hua Gui approaching
her husband.

Chu Wanning could see him get out of the bed, walking to the door with a smile. He closed and
locked it, then turned to his wife. Shi Mei trembled, and flipped the mirror over. He turned away,
and buried his face in his hands.

“He,” Shi Mei started, and his voice gave out. He took a deep breath. “This beast,” he said, words
so saturated with hatred the Chu Wanning thought they would fall out of the air. “My father,
descendent of the gods, ate my mother alive.”

I’m sorry, why am I supposed to have sympathy for anyone but Shi Mei?

------

The blood drained out of Chu Wanning’s face, and Shi Mei laughed. “I was nearby at the time,” he
said. “I ran over, hearing sounds I didn’t understand, and pounded on the door. Finally, it opened.”
He stopped, hand pressed against his mouth, remembering how his father had extended a sticky
hand and a drop of warm blood had fallen onto Shi Mei’s frozen cheek.

“Run!” Hua Gui had screamed from behind her husband, both legs broken and one of her arms
missing. She writhed on the ground. “Don’t look back! Run!”

Without even looking, Shi Mei’s father slammed a boot heel down on her throat and crushed it. He
had fled, running every hour of every day since then. He had heard his mother’s shrill voice in the
back of his mind every time he had slowed down to rest, golden tears coursing down his cheeks,
and he hadn’t dared to stop. He knew he would die, if he stopped, and that the only way to save
himself and his clan was to go home.

“I ran for ten years,” he said softly. “I was picked up by Sect Leader Xue, and lied to him about
who my parents had been and where I had come from. A few years later, one of my relatives found
me. She had been a disciple at Tianyin Pavilion, ruining her face to avoid suspicion. She smuggled
my mother’s possessions out and gave them to me.” Shi Me sighed. “That was how I got the books
explaining my heritage, how to create the parasite flower, and how to open the door to the demon
world.”

“So you picked up where she left off,” Chu Wanning said slowly.

“Yes,” Shi Mei said. “I cultivated the path of the medical sect. Eventually I used my full name,
Hua Binan, and my reputation got better and better. Even Jiang Xi noticed me, and I began to lead
a double life. Later, when the Pavilion Master died and my sister took his place, I met with her and
told her the whole story.” He smiled. “It was the right move. She’s on my side, even though she’s
not one of us. She’s been helping me for years.”

The mirror went back into Shi Mei’s bag and he picked up the broken pieces of his teacup. The
rain outside was like the souls of all the Butterfly-Boned Beauties who had died over thousands of
years, and Chu Wanning could almost hear Hua Gui screaming at her son to run. He shuddered.

“There is no way out.” Shi Mei buried his face in his hands exhaustedly. “Sir, there’s no way out.
It’s them or us, and I can’t betray my people.”

The door opened with a bang, and the wind blew into the room. Mu Yanli stood on the doorstep,
soaked to the skin. “We need another thirty chess pieces, Nan,” she said.

“Where’s the Evil Overlord?” Shi Mei asked, standing. “He should be able to knock those out in a
few minutes.”
“He collapsed,” Mu Yanli said. “I don’t know why.” She shook her head. “His spiritual core and
his heart are both unstable. I don’t know if he’ll recover.”

“That’s impossible,” Shi Mei spat. “That spirit core was his! How could it go wrong?” He stopped,
turning toward Chu Wanning with a pale face. “Did you do this?”

The storm echoed outside, emphasizing the silence in the room. Chu Wanning smiled, hands and
feet tied. “It was me,” he confirmed.

Thunder crashed overhead, and the rain poured down like a waterfall. Shi Mei trembled, stepping
forward. “You,” he breathed.

“I’m going to tell you a story,” Chu Wanning said quietly. “My entire spirit core was destroyed, in
my previous life, and all I had was the power of Nine Songs. That was why I couldn’t fight the Evil
Overlord.”

Golden light appeared on his wrist and Heavenly Questions burned his bonds to ash. He stood
dramatically. The spirit talismans around him flamed high.

“When I was under house arrest here, I was able to place an array in his heart.” Chu Wanning’s
face was cold and deathly tranquil. “It will destroy him slowly, bit by bit. I’m sorry, Hua Binan, I
can’t let you go home.”

Stunned by the unexpected turn of events, Shi Mei could only stare. His face was whiter than jade
and colder than ice. His lips trembled.

“It’s over,” Chu Wanning said, the light in his palm intensifying.

“You want him dead?” Shi Mei gasped, shocked. “You have the heart to kill him?”

No one could see the emotion in Chu Wanning’s dark eyes. “Yes,” he said. His expression grew
uglier and uglier as Heavenly Questions brightened in his hand. The Divine Wood that had
generated him also gave him secret knowledge that he could call forth at will – incredible
techniques that he knew without having to learn or practice – and use against his enemies.

Although Chu Wanning had never heard of the Corpse Splitting Art, he instantly knew what it was
and how to use it to exterminate the demon in front of him. He also knew automatically that it had
been first used after an epidemic – the contagious dead had been contained with the Ten Thousand
Coffins technique, and then the corpses had been burned to ash and used to fertilize the ground. It
was, Chu Wanning suddenly intuited, the oldest record of the use of Divine Wood in the annals of
history.

The downside of the spell, it came to him, was that it would consume him. As he was part of the
Divine Wood himself, it would burn him up. He was in extreme pain, but he couldn’t bear the
thought of living.

“Chu Wanning,” Shi Mei breathed, madness flashing through his eyes.

Chu Wanning looked at him like a teacher looks at a misbehaving child. He had never suspected
that his disciple was of demonic descent, only knowing that he was diligent in his studies and had
appeared out of nowhere. His spiritual core had been weak, and no one else had accepted him as a
disciple. Even the trash master Xuanji hadn’t wanted him. The boy, who was like a lotus, had
come to Chu Wanning in desperation in the rain with his arms full of books.

Hastily covering the books with an umbrella, Chu Wanning had blinked. “Why are you here so
late?” he had asked.

“I have a lot of work to do,” the boy had said. “Because I don’t have much qi, all I’m suited for is
the medical sect’s arts, and there’s so much to learn.” He drooped. “Maybe I should have gone to
Lonemoon Night.”

He had looked so pitiful, hunched over his stack of books, and Chu Wanning had thought about all
of the elders and disciples praising his work ethic but denigrating his lack of qi. He had taken pity
on him then. They had walked together in rain very like the rain now.

In the present, Shi Mei’s eyes were bloodshot and he was furious. “Why are you trying to stop
me?” he shouted angrily. “What use is it? So many people are already dead, what do another thirty
matter? We can finally go home again!” All of his former gentleness was gone. “Even if you kill
him, it’s not going to save anyone. Why would you stop me?”

“I can’t save this world,” Chu Wanning said. “But I can save the other one.”

“It’s only another thirty lives!”

“I won’t let you take even one more,” Chu Wanning said, and snapped his holy weapon. “Ten
Thousand Coffins!”

The unconscious Evil Overlord was suddenly bound tightly by willow vines, and Shi Mei’s lips
turned white. “Why would you do this?” he repeated. “Kill your own disciple? We’re so close!”

Chu Wanning shook his head; no one deserved to die, he thought, and the golden light in his palm
burned brighter. He furiously stepped forward, but a barrier was suddenly erected between him and
Shi Mei. He couldn’t get through it. Shi Mei stared at him, a warrior without a weapon, neither he
nor Mu Yanli a match for Chu Wanning.

Suddenly, his face calmed. “You’re so ruthless, sir,” he said. “Let’s do it. Make your move.” He
laughed as Chu Wanning faltered, unsure why his attitude had suddenly changed. “Just cut him up,
sir, and then neither of us gets what we want.”

“Nan,” Mu Yanli whispered, dull pain spreading through her heart.

Shi Mei could no longer hear his sister. “Kill him,” he said to Chu Wanning. “Just kill him.” He
was lost in a berserker rage. “Kill the only person who still loves you!”

------

Thunder and lightning blew through the still-open door. Chu Wanning’s expression changed, and
the light around his hands dimmed. Shi Mei grabbed him like flowing grass in a hurricane. “Sir, do
you really think Mo Ran is completely dead? That the Evil Overlord is an empty shell?” He
smiled. “Sir, no corpse would act so stubbornly, not even with the most skillful Zhenlong chess
master. There is still a part of his soul within him.”

Chu Wanning’s eyes, until then empty like a dead body, filled with waves. He let out a sigh of
relief. He couldn’t be careless, however.

“Sir, you know how weak my spirit core is. I can’t use powerful qi, so I can’t control the chess
pieces. But the medical sect has its own methods.” He seemed to be looking at the corpse of the
Evil Overlord after he had taken poison, unsure how his weapon had turned on itself. Mo Ran’s
will should have been subsumed by the parasite flower. “We preserved his body, in this world,
although the ten great sects wanted to destroy it.” He stared intently at Chu Wanning. “Because I
needed his power. Even if it wasn’t as strong as it had been while he was alive. But, you know,
maybe there was part of his soul too obsessed with you to let go.”

Shi Mei stood at the center of the hall. He could see Chu Wanning’s ashen face and tightly pursed
lips. It clearly conveyed the pain and hesitation in his heart, and Shi Mei felt relief. He slowly
regained his composure.

“Sir, that wisp of soul did not reincarnate. It stuck to his corpse, and that’s why he’s still obsessed
with you. Grandmaster Mo didn’t love you so much when he was reborn, you know, that happened
later. That love is the most stubborn emotion I have ever seen.” Shi Mei saw Chu Wanning’s
fingertips tremble, and stepped forward. “Look, sir, all I need is thirty people and you can have his
life. How about it?”

The wind outside howled like dancing demons. Shi Mei expected Chu Wanning to agree, watching
the man in front of him hide the pain of both ruined lifetimes with a cold face. His love had
destroyed him twice, and surely, Shi Mei thought, he would try to rescue it.

“You said there was some soul in his body,” Chu Wanning said, looking away so that Shi Mei
couldn’t see his face clearly.

“Yes.”

“And if you get those last thirty people, you’d just let him go?”

“Yes.”

Chu Wanning hesitated. “So that’s why he spoke from the heart,” he muttered.

Shi Mei was sure that he had found the Holy Grace Immortal’s weak point. “It was from the
heart,” he said. “Although it wasn’t all Grandmaster Mo, he still has his memories. Listen, sir,
we’ll all be better off if we just do this.”

“Shi Mingjing,” Chu Wanning sighed. “Do you still remember what your wish was when you
entered the sect?”

At a loss, Shi Mei frowned. “I said I needed a home, but I was just trying to get your sympathy. But
I really did want to see you as my family, sir.”

“Do you know what Mo Ran wished for, when I took him on?”

“What?” Shi Mei asked curiously.

“He wanted to have a holy weapon like Heavenly Questions, so he could save more lives,” Chu
Wanning said coldly. The depth of silence in his eyes was deeper than before. Golden light burst
out, qi cutting through the air.

“Chu Wanning!” Shi Mei snapped. “Are you out of your mind?” Furious and desperate, he tried to
force his way toward Chu Wanning with Mu Yanli’s help, but neither of them made any headway.
“Get the coffin!” Shi Mei gasped. “Stop!”

The golden light pierced his eyes, and then the strong wind stopped. Dead silence filled the hall,
and Chu Wanning sagged to his knees. Shi Mei slid downward, equally pale and panting. His qi
faded, and a dull rumbling sound echoed from the distance. Shi Mei knew the Evil Overlord’s
corpse had dissolved into dust. He stared at Chu Wanning, feeling afraid. It seemed to be the end
of his world.
“Is he really dead?” Shi Mei murmured. “You killed him? Really? You heartless fucking asshole.”
He broke out laughing wildly, head thrown back and tears streaming down his face. “You heartless
fucking asshole, you just couldn’t bear to lose even once.”

Chu Wanning climbed to his feet, standing ramrod straight with a cold face. He was like a corpse.
He was a corpse with no heart.

“I underestimated you, sir. You’re more ruthless than I thought.”

Although he showed no sign of it on the outside, Chu Wanning felt great and terrible pain that he
had killed the last traces of his beloved. He could not deny that he had no heart. He had straight-up
murdered the youth who had loved him. He had killed the only person who had ever cared enough
to ignore what he told everyone he wanted and push past his prickly walls. He had paid the
ultimate price.

Memories of Mo Ran cascaded over him, fragments and scenes and words. He sobbed as he
remembered Mo Ran wanting to save earthworms and not hold a grudge, but only on the inside
because he had to make everyone think he had no emotions. Chu Wanning mourned the loss of the
man who had wanted to save so many lives, giving up his very soul to help others, but not showing
it on his face, because he had to protect his reputation.

Chu Wanning closed his eyes. His hand finally began to tremble. A cool breeze seemed to blow
across his face, kissing his moist eyelashes, like Mo Ran apologizing for abandoning him. He
knew Mo Ran had done his best, and was now passing the torch to him. He could almost hear Mo
Ran call him by name.

Suddenly opening his eyes, Chu Wanning raised his head. His phoenix eyes were full of mist. The
soul of the Evil Overlord floated in the void of his phoenix eyes, expression gentle and handsome.
“Mo,” sobbed Chu Wanning. “Ran,” he choked out, choked with tears. The soul, which should
have been as pure as a cold plum, shone with brightness. Chu Wanning leaned over and kissed it,
but it slipped through his fingers. It scattered in his bosom like a crabapple flower.

“This is bad!” shouted a disciple of Tianyin Pavilion, appearing from nowhere.

“I already know,” Mu Yanli said, tears in her eyes. “The Evil Overlord is dead.”

“Not that!” screeched the disciple. “All the sects of the cultivation world are attacking us right
now!”

------

A new group of rebels stood in the torrential rain, cultivators from all different sects. The Gate of
Life and Death had opened. Although they were nominally together, each of the new allies had
different plans. No one wanted to take the lead, worried that the Sisheng chess pieces would
appear again and murder them. They looked into the distance with anxious hearts, wondering if
there were demons about to murder them.

Someone raised a torch and lit it with an array, looking at the majestic mountain peak and
muttering to himself. None of them were reassured or reassuring, but they all agreed that they had
to stay on their guard. Xue Meng from the previous life would have felt as though history was
repeating itself, had he been there, because it was exactly like the scene where he had gone up the
mountain to find Mo Ran dying of poison.

The Xue Meng who stood with the rebel army, however, was the one who had just lost his parents.
His handsome face was haggard, and he was dressed in plain blue. His hair was tied only with a
ribbon of mourning white. “Stop fucking hesitating,” he said. “If you’re so afraid, you just stay
here. I’ll go.”

It was exactly like his previous life, although he didn’t know it, and just like before, the army was
pissed that he was questioning their courage. They once again called him excessive and arrogant,
just like they did in the prologue. The only difference was that this time they accused him of
dragging Mei Hanxue into his mess. Mei Hanxue, however, was beside Xue Meng this time, and
could verbally defend himself, which he did so effectively that his accusers were ashamed of
themselves.

“We need to stop the Evil Overlord,” Xue Meng said heroically.

“Yeah,” said someone. “I’m not so sure about that name. We should probably try to figure out who
he is.”

Xue Meng coldly looked at him. “He’s Mo Ran,” he said. “He told you. Everybody told you.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean it was the Mo Ran from another world,” said someone else, having
come through the gate into another world through a portal that had proved Mo Ran was telling the
truth. “I mean, this other world thing sounds far-fetched.”

“It was probably him that killed those people at Lonemoon Night,” agreed another cultivator.
“This other self other life thing seems pretty sus.”

Mei Hanxue sighed, correctly intuiting that most of the cultivators would prefer to ignore what
they saw and heard with their own eyes and ears rather than admit they were wrong. “Truly, you
are all strong of character,” he said.

It took several moments for everyone to realize they had been insulted. When the ensuing scuffle
died down, Xuan Jing turned to Xue Meng. “You’re the only one who fought this Evil Overlord,”
he said. “How good of a fighter is he?”

Xue Meng gritted his teeth and clenched his fists dramatically. “All of us working together might
not defeat him,” he said.

“He did capture Grandmaster Chu,” someone said into the resulting horrified silence. “That means
he’s pretty strong.”

“Capture?” said someone else. “Get your head out of your ass. They were fucking, remember? In
league with each other?”

Having learned that his teacher had been abusing his power by banging a student, Xue Meng was
still horrified enough to keep his mouth shut. Jiang Xi glanced at him. “Oh, shut up,” he said to the
whining cultivators. He looked sidelong at Xue Meng. “We should get going,” he said. “First we
will construct an elaborate and foolproof plan, and then we will attack immediately without
wasting any time.”

The cultivators began to plan, listing who was likely to oppose them and discussing who was best
at what technique and who should be where in their attack formation. They agreed that their
enemies were likely to be Mu Yanli and the disciples of Tianyin Pavilion, guessing six or seven
hundred. They debated the pros and cons of having the various sects provide the backbone of the
offensive.

“And then there’s Hua Binan,” sighed Jiang Xi, when the rest of it had been hashed out. “Show
him no mercy.”

The only thing left to worry about was the Zhenlong chess pieces, who could have been anywhere
or anyone, and the Evil Overlord himself. Jiang Xi’s eyes swept across the crowd, and most of
them suddenly felt as if they had cervical spondylosis, touching their necks as if in great pain.
Jiang Xi rolled his eyes, realizing that his compatriots were fearful with terror and unsuited for
battle, despite it being their jobs.

“Hm,” Jiang Xi said, and the gathered cultivators suddenly began to chatter that they were on a
suicide mission and that all of their plans were pointless. They mourned the loss of Rufeng Sect,
wondering if maybe Ye Wangxi wanted to take a shot at defeating the Evil Overlord, because she
was a pretty good fighter, after all. Jiang Xi grew more frustrated and told them that she had stayed
home like a good girl, and they didn’t need women to fight for them anyway because they were
manly and heroic.

No one wanted to be in charge, and more and more people started to call for a delay. Xue Meng got
pissed off all over again, so angry with rage that his lips turned blue. He tried to suppress his anger.
Finally he demanded that they get off their asses and do something, but the army demurred and
told him to be careful. Just like they did in his previous life, in case it wasn’t clear that there is a
parallel here.

Finally, Xue Meng lost patience entirely and vowed to ascend the mountain alone. (Just like last
time.) The disciples of Sisheng Peak all begged him not to go, but they didn’t volunteer to go with
him, either. Even Mei Hanxue just frowned as Xue Meng left them all behind. He let his tears fall
when no one could see his face.

Only Jiang Xi trotted forward. “Xue Meng!” he called hoarsely, but Xue Meng just walked faster
toward the majestic Sisheng Peak. He didn’t even have a decent sword, because his had been
broken. “Xue Meng!” Jiang Xi called again, and jogged up to catch Xue Meng’s shoulder.

Before he could touch him, Xue Meng whirled around. He flung Jiang Xi’s hand away and
marched up the steps where the moss and the bamboo were growing. He breathed heavily as he
moved through the torrential rain, in the world that was moist like a dream. Memories flashed
dramatically before his eyes, his parents and teacher, his teammates, training and eating and living
happily. He walked on the road and the memories faded away.

The high-spirited phoenix’s bones were frozen to ice, his strutting gait reduced to a soaked dull
walk. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the dim candlelight far above him, and suddenly he
noticed three tombs before the Heaven-Piercing Tower. (Still just like last time, in case it wasn’t
blindingly obvious.) He knew that wasn’t where graves were supposed to be, so he went to go look
at them.

One gravestone had the words Deep-Fried Empress carved in it, while the second had been pushed
over and had no visible writing. The last one was very old. A shadow fell across it, and Xue Meng
flinched, reaching for the sword he no longer had. He saw a man standing with his back to him,
stroking the last gravestone, and then the man pressed his forehead against it as if unutterably
weary.

Xue Meng lit a fire in his palm with qi, scattering the shadows, and slammed his hand toward the
Evil Overlord. He missed his target but shattered the gravestone. He looked around, seeing no one.
The rain poured down like a torrential downpour, and Xue Meng felt as if he was the only person
in the world. However, tree shadows seemed to be hiding in the dark forest.

“Evil Overlord!” Xue Meng shouted. “Hey! Evil Overlord!” His voice was drowned out by
thunder. He knew he had seen someone, but perhaps he had been wrong, he thought, and then he
stopped. He reached down, poking at the broken stone, and flipped it over to read it. His heart was
immediately plunged into ice as he read the words The Grave Of Chu Wanning.

Xue Meng staggered backwards in shock, and a bolt of lightning illuminated his miserable face.
“No,” he muttered. “That’s not right.” He swallowed hard, calming his racing heart, and squatted
before the tomb for a long moment. He looked at the gravestone again, and it occurred to him that
the stone was weatherworn so much that it had to have been exposed to the elements for at least ten
years, maybe even eleven whole years. Then he saw that the word Sir had been carved into it at a
later date.

Lips blue and body trembling, Xue Meng didn’t know if he felt grief, anger, or fear, or maybe all
three. He buried his face in his hands and wiped away the rain. He rested for a hot minute, and then
opened his eyes to see a dark golden shadow again. The figure was a cross between a ghost and a
living person, and it whispered, “Sir, pay attention to me.”

Xue Meng finally saw its face and recognized Mo Ran, but his cousin didn’t seem to see him. He
just kept muttering wildly about going home and Chu Wanning not paying attention to him. The
thunder kept crashing and the lightning kept falling, and Xue Meng could hear Mo Ran continuing
to bitch that he couldn’t die before seeing someone. Then the ghost disappeared.

“What the fuck,” Xue Meng said, and someone slapped him on the back.

“It’s me,” Mei Hanxue said, having zero regard for just having scared the piss out of his friend. He
was followed by an extremely ugly cultivator also wearing the garb of Taxue Palace, but Xue
Meng recognized his light green eyes.

“Mei Hánxuě,” he said to the elder twin, who was holding both his and his twin’s holy weapons as
well as Jiang Xi’s sword.

“So you should use this,” said Mei Hánxuě. “Sect Leader Jiang wanted you to have it.”

“And you’re related to him how?” Mei Hanxue asked curiously.

“Nope,” Xue Meng said. “We’re going.”

The three of them walked up to Wushan Palace in the wind and the rain.

yes, xue meng now has company on his hopeless charge, unlike last time, the author thinks
this is character development and literary symmetry, tho it really is just repetitive and does
not have the emotional impact she wants it to have

------

Wushan Palace had been Loyalty Hall once, but the Evil Overlord had divided it into three areas:
the front hall, the middle courtyard, and the back hall. The brothers Mei did not enter immediately,
peering through the door as they waited for Xue Meng to catch up. “Look out,” said Mei Hánxuě.
“A Bewitching Miasma is in there.”

“A what, now?” asked Xue Meng.

“It’s kind of like the Chimen Escape Armor,” Mei Hanxue explained, which told Xue Meng
nothing useful. “It’s in Taxue Palace’s plum forest, usually.”

“And it’s used for what?”

“Gets people lost,” Mei Hánxuě replied. “It doesn’t affect people who are supposed to be there,
just intruders. Kind of like the Wall-Hitting Ghost.”

“They’re trying to stall for time,” Mei Hanxue added. “Someone’s probably in the rear palace. Can
we go around it?”

“You’ve lived at Taxue Palace for how long, and you’re asking me?” Mei Hánxuě said.

“Er,” said Mei Hanxue, and glanced at Xue Meng. “I can probably disperse it, actually, give me a
second.”

“You,” said Mei Hánxuě flatly. “Really.”

Xue Meng lost patience with their banter and went inside. The carved lacquer door swung open
like a ghost opening its stinky mouth, and the interior was silent. Xue Meng smelled flowers. He
glanced over his shoulder to find the Mei twins gone, and a familiar voice called to him.

“Xue Meng,” said Mo Ran’s voice, and a chilly breeze fluttered the black gauze curtains. “Are you
here?”

Xue Meng intuited that each person entering the miasma would see a different scene and be unable
to see each other. He was still distracted enough by Mo Ran’s voice to approach the curtain and lift
it with Jiang Xi’s sword. A handsome, pale man sat on the throne with his eyes closed, and Xue
Meng recognized the Evil Overlord.

A plate of fruit was in front of him, dark purple grapes next to delicate slices of apple. The Evil
Overlord was ignoring it entirely, and Xue Meng wondered if it perhaps wasn’t an illusion. “Mo
Ran,” he said.

“Yeah?” said the Evil Overlord without opening his eyes.

Exhaustion greater than anger, Xue Meng could only ask the questions that had been stewing in the
back of his mind. “Why did you do this?” he said. “You and our teacher, were you really fucking?”

“You haven’t seen each other since Taxue Palace two years ago,” said Mo Ran, slowly opening his
eyes. “Do you miss him?”

“Er,” said Xue Meng, because that wasn’t what he remembered.

“Do you miss him?” Mo Ran said again, following the script from the prologue – it was a random
scene that had coincidentally appeared as the illusion for Xue Meng within the Bewitching
Miasma.

“You keep saying those words, but I don’t think they mean what you think they mean,” Xue Meng
said, not being on the same script.

The Evil Overlord kept reciting lines as if he were talking to someone, but Xue Meng felt that he
was not that person. He blinked, as the Evil Overlord looked right through him and said something
about returning something. He wondered what would happen if he kept his mouth shut, and sure
enough, the Evil Overlord just kept talking.

Xue Meng tilted his head, looking at the cold and crazy man on the throne. He shivered, knowing
that this man was not his cousin, and seeing how vicious the Evil Overlord really was. He was
ranting about how Chu Wanning had mistreated him now, and although nothing he said was
wrong, precisely, Xue Meng thought privately that he was interpreting being physically beaten in
punishment in the worst possible light.

“Hurry, before I die,” said the ghost of the Evil Emperor, and Xue Meng was abruptly brought
back into the present.

“What, now?” he said, and then he remembered the third grave. The first had been the empress, the
second Chu Wanning, but the third – “Is that your grave?” he asked, aghast, but the Evil Overlord
ignored him entirely. He grabbed at his clothes to make him pay attention, but his hand passed
right through the illusion.

“Go see our teacher,” the ghost said. “I kept his body, after I let him die, but if I die, he’s going to
dissolve.”

“You killed him?” Xue Meng demanded incredulously. “What kind of bullshit world is this?”

The ghost pontificated for a few more minutes, dramatically hacking up blood from the poison he
had taken, and then got up and walked out of the hall. Xue Meng ran after him, indignant. He
reached for the illusion again.

“The hell do you think you’re going?” he started to say, but he caught a ball of warmth on his
fingertips. The flower scent vanished, and the ghost’s silhouette disappeared. “What the fuck,”
Xue Meng said. He was alone. With the illusion gone, Xue Meng found himself shivering. For a
moment, he was profoundly disoriented, and then he saw Mei Hanxue.

“Wake up.” Mei Hanxue released his hand and flicked his forehead painfully. “It’s over.”

“Sorry,” Xue Meng muttered.

“It’s perfectly normal,” Mei Hanxue said. “But don’t think about it too much, or it’ll eat at your
soul.”

“Eat my soul,” Xue Meng repeated, deadpan. He wasn’t particularly fond of the fuckboi, but he
also knew this was the only real person around. “What did you see?” he asked.

“Over a thousand girls that I broke up with,” Mei Hanxue sighed. “It was utterly terrifying.
Terrifying.”

Xue Meng suppressed a sigh, and then an explosion sounded from the rear hall. Mei Hánxuě
caught up with them, sword drawn. “We should go check that out,” he said.

The three men moved through the torrential rain in the courtyard, finding a figure in white and
gold swimming up to the roof of the corridor when they reached the back hall. The figure froze
when they came into view, and a thunderclap illuminated Mu Yanli’s face.

“Ignore them and run!” shouted someone, and Mu Yanli fled. The rear hall was in ruins when Xue
Meng and his companions arrived, flames licking at the broken beams. Two flashing white
shadows dueled each other, fast as lightning, colliding and separating at high speeds.

Metallic sounds punctuated the fight, lifting the tiles and crushing rocks. Blue waves of qi gushed
out of the broken gold bricks and people could be seen watching from the top of the giant tree. Xue
Meng paled as he recognized one of them. “Sir!”

“Shi Mingjing,” muttered Mei Hánxuě.

The layer of powerful qi covering Shi Mingjing clearly belonged to the Evil Overlord, however,
and incantations crawled across every inch of exposed skin. Xue Meng ran forward, recognizing
him as well. “Shi Mei!” he yelled. “The hell is going on?”

A golden crabapple barrier flung him back, and Chu Wanning glanced over. “Stay out of it,” he
said.

“That’s odd,” Mei Hanxue said, looking intently at Shi Mei. “He’s using someone else’s power.”

Without further ado, Chu Wanning and Shi Mei began to fight again. “I didn’t kill you in either
lifetime,” Shi Mei shouted. “And this is how you treat me?” The fight continued, and Shi Mei
made a barrier out of No Return. He had internalized the Evil Overlord’s power thoroughly enough
to deceive and control his holy weapon.

Chu Wanning’s eyes darkened. “You killed me in both lifetimes,” he said melodramatically,
referring to the fact that Shi Mei had killed Mo Ran.

The fight kept going, but Shi Mei wasn’t the fighter Mo Ran had been even if he was using his qi.
Embracing Sands broke his barrier and flashed toward his chest. He barely managed to avoid a
fatal blow, the sword piercing his shoulder instead and returning to Chu Wanning’s hand dripping
with blood.

oh, yeah, no, not fatal to sever the brachial artery or stab through a lung, nope, because
that’s what’s in your shoulder, you blithering idiot

Shi Mei tumbled to the ground, covering his wound with his other hand. “Why did you stop me?”
he hissed. “What’s the point? You can’t resurrect them! You’re never going to go back to the way
things were!”

Landing lightly on his toes, Chu Wanning jumped to the middle of the ruins. He was drenched in
sweat, wounds, and blood. His face was indifferent, and he knew Shi Mei spoke the truth.

“It’s too late!” Shi Mei screamed at him in the pouring rain. “You should have opened the gate and
killed him first!”

Chu Wanning’s eyes were ice cold as he stared at his former student. The downpour could put out
the fire, but not their hatred. Shi Mei staggered to his feet.

“What redemption?” he screamed. “It’s a joke! You wanted to save him, and now look at you!
Because of you, I got his spirit core!” He burst into laughter, eyes like those of a snake, a beehive
of venom. He gritted his teeth like a Rob Liefeld drawing. “If you had just killed him to begin with,
then we wouldn’t be here right now! Everyone dead is dead because of you!” His continuing
laughter was as sticky as a spider’s web.

Blood trickled from the corners of Shi Mei’s beautiful mouth, the incantations on his body fading
away. He had used his primary weapon – words – but they disappeared in the torrential rain. Chu
Wanning was too mentally strong to be affected, no matter what Shi Mei said, and only watched
stoically as his former student continued to rant.

When the final incantation dissolved and Shi Mei had once again become an ordinary throwback,
he stopped talking and panted for breath in the rain. He knew he had failed to beat Chu Wanning
with his stolen power, and was at his wit’s end. He had no idea what to do next.

Xue Meng watched, horrified. “Sir?” he said. “Sir?”

Shi Mei heard him, turning to meet his gaze, and then he smiled sadly. “Young Master,” he said,
and Xue Meng shuddered as if Shi Mei had slapped him. Shi Mei’s peach blossom eyes were as
gorgeous as ever as he extended a hand toward Xue Meng. In a daze, Xue Meng reached out to
take it.

A flash of intensely bright and conveniently timed light burst out of No Return, stunning everyone.
It strobed different colors of light, scarlet, green, and blue, more than ten times before erupting into
a strong current. Mei Hanxue pulled Xue Meng prudently away from the barrier just as an
indomitable spirit rose up in the storm like a shooting star and whooshed toward the back of the
mountain.

The mountain began to glow with red light, and Shi Mei stared at it with narrowed eyes. He
pinched the tip of his finger, and then smiled widely. “The Evil Overlord!” he shouted. “He’s not
dead!” He pressed several acupuncture points on his body to stop the bleeding and dove into the
garden.

Chu Wanning watched, face pale, and then turned to his student. “Please keep him out of this,” he
said to the brothers Mei, and ran after Shi Mei.

The one skill at which Shi Mei equaled his teacher and teammates was lightness kung fu, and Chu
Wanning could not catch him. Shi Mei couldn’t outrun him either. Together, they arrived at the
back of the mountain.

well now I just feel bad for mo ran wasting all that time collecting feathers while they studied
with the feathered tribe because he thought shi mei sucked at lightness kung fu

------

An unfathomable chasm was before the Path of Martyrdom, formed by Chu Wanning’s Corpse
Splitting Technique. Rain poured into the new ravine like a waterfall. A man in a black and gold
robe stood above it, and he turned at the commotion behind him. Lightning illuminated Mo Ran’s
face and thunder rumbled. Chu Wanning stumbled to a halt, shocked.

Shi Mei recognized the Evil Overlord, and took a step back. Chu Wanning inched forward, seeing
the bloody wounds covering every inch of exposed skin like a million tic tac toe boards. He could
still see how handsome Mo Ran had once been, but his lips turned white as he stood in the heavy
rain. The living corpse looked right back at him.

“Why did you do this to me?” the Evil Overlord whined, confused and disoriented. “Why did you
kill me? Sir, did I do something wrong? Did I make you unhappy?”

Oh no, Chu Wanning thought, that’s Mo Ran. It occurred to him that technically they were both
Mo Ran. His student staggered toward him, bleeding from every wound, eyes unfocused. The cold
rain seeped into Chu Wanning’s bones.

“How did I disappoint you, sir?” Mo Ran sniveled. “Stop whipping me, sir!”

Now trembling violently, Chu Wanning was on the verge of a breakdown. He curled up in the rain,
stomach feeling as if it had been torn open. He looked more dead than the walking corpse in front
of him, because he was in greater pain. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled hoarsely. “I’m so sorry. It hurt me
more than it hurt you when I punished you.”

All your blood and hate ended up in my body, he thought, and knelt in front of Mo Ran. He sobbed
brokenly in regret, not knowing where he had fucked up. He thought distantly that a living corpse
wasn’t technically dead and so the Corpse Splitting Technique probably hadn’t worked.
“I let you down,” Chu Wanning wailed, beating his chest in remorse as Mo Ran staggered around
bleeding and remembering the tragedies of both lives. At the sound of Chu Wanning’s voice, he
looked at his teacher. There was blood all over the place.

Suddenly, Mo Ran looked annoyed and started pacing. “Chu Wanning, you asshole,” he said. “Just
admit you wanted me dead, okay? I’d tear your corpse to pieces, if I could, that’s how much I hate
you!” His soaked, heavy sleeves fluttered in the torrential downpour as his eyes widened in anger.
Blue light suddenly shot dramatically into his chest and he fell silent. Then he straightened and
stood coldly.

Shi Mei stood, peach blossom eyes fierce. “I’m done reminiscing,” he snarled. “Do you know
what’s important right now? Thirty more Zhenlong chess pieces. If you’re not dead, go fucking
make them and finish the goddamn bridge!”

The madness and resentment in the Evil Overlord’s eyes vanished. He became as calm as still
water, and bowed slightly. “Yes, sir,” he said, and threw a barrier over Shi Mei. Before he could
follow instructions, Chu Wanning got in his way. Heart crushed and body drenched, the
grandmaster wanted to lie down and die but his pride wouldn’t let him.

He mournfully thought about how Mo Ran had only wanted everyone to be happy, and instead he
was a crazed super-powerful corpse murdering innocent people. “Embracing Sands,” he said
tiredly.

The battle between master and disciple was set to repeat again, history repeating itself. The sky and
earth changed color, the sun rose and set, and Chu Wanning and the Evil Overlord were fated to
fight to the death. There was no escape for either of them, as fate would not allow it.

yeah, fate and the author trying to literary symmetry again, which is possibly the most
boring-ass ending play possible; this isn’t a callback, this is just tedious

“No Return,” Mo Ran said flatly, his incandescent voice echoing in the heavy rain.

The rain began to fall upwards as the figure dressed in black fought the figure dressed in white. It
was very dramatic and pretty. Their spirits collided really really fast as they bounced from cloud to
cloud and ground to sky, exchanging over ten moves in an instant. In the next instant, they were
even faster, exchanging over a hundred moves. They could be seen from the base of the mountain.

The gathered cultivator army was shocked at the unexpected development, chattering excitedly
that Chu Wanning had returned. The raindrops fell like thousands of horses as Chu Wanning and
Mo Ran fought on the peak of Sisheng Peak. Brilliant light flickered between them, and lots of
explosions.

Zhenlong chess pieces appeared out of nowhere to attack the cultivators standing closest to the
entrance, which included Jiang Xi. He was brutally wounded, flailing dramatically. Cultivators
panicked, taking out their barrier umbrellas.

The fight between Chu Wanning and Mo Ran intensified. Only Chu Wanning could have taken so
many blows from the Evil Overlord, no one else in the world. The last time they had fought, Chu
Wanning had held out hope he could save his student. This time, he knew it was hopeless.

Chu Wanning mourned the loss of his innocent student and dodged another move. Every move that
Mo Ran made was one that Chu Wanning had taught him, so he couldn’t beat Chu Wanning. The
saber howled and the sword cried, and Chu Wanning kept remembering all the awesome parts of
his relationship with Mo Ran, like Cool Jade Village and sparring at Red Lotus Pavilion.
With a clang, Embracing Sands was shot down. Before Chu Wanning could retreat, No Return had
been leveled at his chest. “What a pain in the ass.”

The sword lanced toward him, but a profound golden fan flew in dramatically from the side. The
incoming fan attack was extremely fierce and powerful, and the Evil Overlord retreated.
Interweaving red and blue arrays descended from the sky, trapping him.

“Who dares attack me?” the Evil Overlord roared. “Show yourselves!”

Three blurry figures stood atop the Heaven-Piercing Tower. They jumped down in unison amidst
the heavy downpour and landed steadily. One had a fox-fur hat and flighty eyes. One had cold
eyes and blonde hair. The third was dressed in blue armor, eyes sharp below a diagonal knife scar
running across his forehead. He was in his late thirties or early forties, calm and similar in bearing
to Xue Zhengyong. He caught the golden fan.

The Xue Meng and brothers Mei of the other world had arrived.

------

“Hello, sir,” old Xue Meng said, voice hoarse from all the emotions surging through his throat.

“Focus, Ziming,” said Mei Hanxue. They looked the same in both worlds, but they had more qi
and were steadier than their younger counterparts. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t let it fuck up
your qi. I just saw your other self, and if you lose, he’s gonna be disappointed in you.”

Old Xue Meng sighed and looked at the Evil Overlord. He knew Mei Hanxue was right. He said
nothing.

“Who are you?” the Evil Overlord sneered. “You have a death wish?”

“How come he doesn’t recognize us?” Mei Hanxue asked.

“He’s only partly there,” said Chu Wanning.

Hearing Chu Wanning’s voice upset old Xue Meng’s equilibrium all over again, and he began to
cry. It had been so many years since he had heard his teacher’s voice. The time had passed very
quickly, but he remembered every moment of it. He remembered not knowing if his teacher was
alive or dead, and trying to rescue him. He remembered being mocked and ridiculed. He
remembered what had waited for him atop the mountain.

The pillar that had supported him, the pillar he had sought for ten years, it had disappeared. Xue
Meng had been too late. Afterwards, the situation had somehow gotten worse. The Evil Overlord
had returned from the dead, Shi Mei had returned from the dead, and the latter had been evil. They
had started a massacre between them, as if what the Evil Overlord had done before hadn’t been bad
enough.

“I’m on time this time, sir,” he said. “I can help you.”

Young Xue Meng chose that moment to show up with his own set of Mei twins, shocked to see
another version of himself although he thought he had been mentally prepared to see strange
people. “You,” he said, and then his voice failed.

Old Xue Meng looked at him, envious and sad, and then laughed. “Ah, the me of ten years ago,”
he said. “You’re an idiot, you know.”
Before young Xue Meng even registered the insult, the Evil Overlord lost patience with the byplay
and started throwing fireballs. Young Xue Meng blocked the first one with Xuehuang, not
consciously having made the decision to use the blade, and then rushed toward the Evil Overlord.
The older Mei Hánxuě stopped him.

“We got this,” he said, and his twin grinned like a shark.

“No need for your assistance,” he said. “We’ll clean up the mess from our own world.”

While they were chit-chatting with their younger selves, the Evil Overlord started to break free of
the barrier they had put on him. “Oh, shit,” said Mei Hánxuě, “he’s stronger than before!”

“There’s a new core in his body,” Chu Wanning said.

Old Xue Meng reinforced the spell, straining with all his power. “Sir,” he said. “You have to go
kill Hua Binan.”

“Why Hua Binan?” young Xue Meng asked. “Why not this guy?”

“This guy is a puppet,” old Xue Meng snapped. “You need to kill the puppet master.” He thought
for a second. “Actually, you’re too young for this shit.” He flung out an array across his younger
self’s feet. “Go wait with the invading army.”

“Hey!” shouted young Xue Meng indignantly, but he and his set of brothers Mei were quickly
enveloped by the butterfly tide of qi and vanished.

“Ziming, it’s breaking!” said Mei Hanxue.

“Come on, sir!” Xue Meng said, releasing all of his qi toward the Evil Overlord.

Chu Wanning didn’t need to be told twice. He jumped into the air, his sword-like eyebrows knitted
together, like a unibrow. “I will be back soon,” he said gravely. “Don’t get hurt.”

“Yes, sir,” said Xue Meng. “But I should probably be saying that to you.” He had lived in a
hellscape for so long that he was fairly sure there was almost nothing he couldn’t withstand. Now
that he had something to look forward to, he was certain he would be fine.

is this foreshadowing again? Is he going to die? Probably. Author seems like she thinks that
would be Poetically Tragic and we all know her feelings on that score

“I’m sorry I left you alone all those years,” Chu Waning said, floating away, and Xue Meng finally
began to cry.

Because he was so old, he looked terrible when he cried. Even the torrential rain couldn’t hide his
tears. As he sobbed, the Evil Overlord was going berserk inside the array. He had nearly broken
out when Xue Meng got himself under control and put him back in, staring him right in the face.
“Nice try,” he said.

ah, a touch of ageism to go along with the misogyny and transphobia that also weren’t on the
trigger warnings

Pouring all of his qi into the barrier, Xue Meng grimaced. The veins on his neck throbbed. His eyes
were as hard as steel.

“You were always better than me,” he said. “But now our teacher is with me, and I’m not going to
disappoint him. You’re not going to beat me this time.”

“Ziming, what the fuck!” shouted Mei Hánxuě.

Red light illuminated Xue Meng from behind, and he pushed the flames toward the Evil Overlord.
It was as if ten thousand arrows had pierced his heart, and shackles covered the Evil Overlord from
head to toe. The zombie groaned as his black eyes slowly turned over and he glared at Xue Meng
like a resentful ghost. A scar was on the left side of his chest, a wound left by Xue Meng’s sword,
accompanied now by a hundred wounds also caused by Xue Meng.

Shocked and anxious, Mei Hanxue pressed forward. “Are you trying to break your spiritual core?”

“Shut up,” Xue Meng said, staring at the Evil Overlord. Once brothers, they stared at each other,
assassin staring at tyrant. Xue Meng’s eyes were lit with the blazing brilliance he had been. “I will
fight with everything I have today.”

Blazing flames shot dramatically into the sky, leaving the impression of an exuberant young man
in silver and blue light armor, before settling into the world-weary form of a much older Xue
Ziming. His eyes were steady.

“I don’t want fame or success,” he said. “I just want my family back, you son of a bitch.”

------

Simultaneously, Sisheng Peak had begun the battle on four fronts. The allied army who had
charged up the mountain was one opponent, while the vanguard who had fought the chess pieces
was another. A third was the guards responsible for opening the border, and finally, there were the
medics who were in the midst of a chaotic battle. The side of the mountain was brilliant with
arrays.

Xue Meng’s attack triggered a strong flood of energy, the flame piercing the heavens like a hot
knife through butter. Chu Wanning looked at the wind, heart full of grief, knowing that Xue Meng
had started to burn up his spiritual core. He thought his disciple would soon follow in Nangong
Si’s footsteps.

Blood dripping from his fingertips, Chu Wanning summoned his paper dragon. Its voice was as
loud as a bell as it appeared. “What do you want now, Chu Wanning?”

“I need to get to the end of the Path of Martyrdom, quickly.”

The paper dragon looked at the war-ravaged land, blinked, and said, “Well, come on, then.” It rode
the lightning and the wind with Chu Wanning on its back toward the Path of Martyrdom built from
the dead. Chu Wanning saw the road between the worlds glowing scarlet, and pale purple flames
wreathing the door to the demon world. The dragon swooped down, returning to the incantation as
it landed, and Chu Wanning stood firmly on the end of the path.

“You’re here?” The empty voice came from behind him, Shi Mei backlit by demonic flames. The
protective barrier around him was gone, and he looked at Chu Wanning with his beautiful eyes.
“You’re very competent,” he said, wind blowing his hair across the demonic fissure. “The Gate of
Life and Death is wide open, and what you want to do is not fix anything, but fuck up my plans.”

“Those three techniques were created by Gouchen,” he said. “The demons will become twice as
strong as they are now if they get their hands on them. It’s not that I don’t want you to go home,
it’s that I can’t have the demons running free in the world.”
“I guess I can’t fool you after all,” Shi Mei said.

Golden light appeared in Chu Wanning’s palm, but Mu Yanli blocked him before he had properly
manifested Heavenly Questions. “I won’t let you touch him,” she said. “He has suffered enough.”

Shi Mei didn’t know how his sister had done it, but an array of Zhenlong chess pieces was arrayed
behind her, ready to complete the path. Chu Wanning saw the danger immediately, but Mu Yanli
blocked him from attacking the pawns.

“Get out of the way!” he snarled.

“Why?” Mu Yanli sneered. “The cultivation world never cared about my clan, so why should we
care about you?” She attacked, shattering her own spirit core in desperation. With her bloodline,
she had enough qi to move mountains and fill seas. “You cultivators have drunk human blood and
eaten human flesh,” she snarled. “So righteous! Such justice!”

With such a formidable opponent, Chu Wanning had no choice but to fight with everything he had.
His white robe fluttered in the wind, and Mu Yanli’s golden robe fluttered in the wind. The two of
them split the very air with their clashes. Their weapons met with a clang, and they looked at each
other as the sparks drifted.

“Not all cultivators,” Chu Wanning said, gritting his teeth.

shall we talk about how your privilege meant you didn’t have to give a shit so you basically
turned a blind eye, chu wanning, except for that one time you could try to spend someone
else’s money to rescue a hot girl when she was right under your nose? It doesn’t matter if you
personally didn’t eat a throwback, you benefited from the institutional bullshit that
oppressed them.

Madam Rong’s kindness shone in Chu Wanning’s heart, and Luo Xianxian’s innocence. He
thought about how Sisheng Peak’s disciples didn’t ask to be paid, and how Chu Xun had tried to
protect his people. He comforted himself that not all cultivators personally ate or fucked the
Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts, and thought about how civilians praised them for their good deeds.
He even remembered Ye Wangxi, who had saved the one lone throwback.

“Please,” said Mu Yanli. “Like that has any bearing on the subject. It doesn’t change the fact that
my father ate my adoptive mother, and nobody thought he did anything wrong. Just because I have
the blood of a god, and she had the blood of a demon, I get treated as a justice dowsing rod and she
gets eaten alive. What the fuck is wrong with all of you?”

She glowed golden as the power of her spirit core flowed through her. Her body shone with
platinum brilliance. Even her hair was now a million strands of shining light.

“You know the history, right?” she spat, her tongue even sharper than her blade. “We’re going to
take revenge for all of our ancestors you killed and ate, or fucked without consent, or bred like
animals.” She swung her sword toward Chu Wanning with the last of her qi.

“Nine Songs!” Chu Wanning shouted, his zither clanging into the air. It shone brightly enough to
illuminate all of Sisheng Peak, and Chu Wanning made a barrier full of floating crabapple petals.

Mu Yanli faced him, face full of hatred. She didn’t hate him, per se, she hated the injustice of the
cruel world that found it somehow acceptable to butcher and eat sapient beings. She hated her
mother’s miserable death, and the systems that allowed some people to benefit from exploiting
others. “Let them go back.”
seriously, how am I supposed to find her motivations anything but deeply deeply sympathetic,
istg this book wants the reader to side with the Imperial Stormtroopers

Mu Yanli’s spiritual power was running out, pushed to its limits. She couldn’t break Chu
Wanning’s barrier. She looked up at him, and Chu Wanning saw his reflection in her golden eyes.
He saw cruelty and benevolence in his hollow face.

“Please,” Mu Yanli begged. “Let them go home.”

The reflection vanished as her spiritual core shattered. Chu Wanning blinked, dazed, and knew that
she had nowhere to go. She begged for her younger brother and the rest of his clan, who had been
cruelly mistreated by the entire cultivation world. The sword in her hand dissipated, shattering into
dust.

“Please,” she said again. “Let my people go.”

Mu Yanli fell from the sky, robe fluttering behind her like a lotus. The emblem of Tianyin
Pavilion, symbol of justice and righteousness, glimmered from her breast. Heaven’s voice had no
pity for her, although she had done her best to not act out of sentiment, to respect all living beings
and remain true to the gods and immortals since birth. Her father had given her precious things and
then smashed them to teach her not to be sentimental, and she had wept at the harsh lessons. She
had done her best to be righteous, but the only person who had shown her love and affection was
the descendent of a demonic clan.

“Sister Mu!”

She seemed to hear her brother Hua Binan screaming. She had never heard him lose his composure
before, but her qi was gone and she was unable to react. She hit the ground hard, rolling to bleed
off momentum, and staggered to the end of the path. She threw herself on it, voluntarily sacrificing
her life to become a building block for the bridge.

Shi Mei faltered, then rushed toward her. He couldn’t save his sister, only fall to his knees as he
saw her smile at him sweetly and openly for the first time in his life. All her coldness had melted
away and she looked up at the sky. “Sentimentality will only hold you back, brother,” she said.

The scarlet flames of the path engulfed her body, and she looked toward the gate. She saw the
specter of her adopted mother, waving a small fan and singing the same song she had used to
soothe Mu Yanli to sleep as a child. She sighed, and the light faded from her eyes.

The pawns on the path went berserk, rushing forward one by one to kneel before the woman who
had used her divine blood to pave a pathway for the demons. Chu Wanning landed on the ground,
fingertips icy cold, as he realized that Mu Yanli hadn’t brought Zhenlong chess pieces after all.
She had brought disciples from Tianyin Pavilion.

The disciples began to weep, their tears golden, and Chu Wanning staggered as he realized that Mu
Yanli had been gathering throwbacks under the cover of recruiting for Tianyin Pavilion. They knelt
on the ground, sobbing, and then began to rage at Chu Wanning. “You murderer!” one shouted.
“Why did you force her onto this path?”

oh that’s why they were all super hot, that was actually a well-done bit of foreshadowing

Many gorgeous disciples rushed toward Chu Wanning, none of them skilled enough to pose much
of a threat. Chu Wanning knocked them back easily, using just his fingertips. He closed his eyes;
he had had no choice. Mo Ran was dead, time and space were falling apart, and Xue Meng would
use his spiritual core to defeat the Evil Overlord.

Chu Wanning suddenly felt as though he were standing in front of a wall made of pointy knives,
and he had to pass through it. He knew that not all cultivators were guilty, and he thought that not
all of the Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts deserved to be punished, but he wouldn’t let them go
home. Twenty-nine deaths were still too many, he thought.

Besides, Chu Wanning reasoned, if the demon’s gate opened, the heavens would be pissed. They
would rain down death and destruction and destroy both worlds. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
He couldn’t afford to hesitate.

I would say that is baseless speculation, but because it’s chu wanning who is speculating, he is
no doubt correct, and therefore the moral of the story is that the oppressed (butchered,
raped, and eaten) minority population should have just shut up and continued to be
mistreated so as not to rock the boat for all the privileged people because ThAt’S wHaT
JeSuS WoUlD wAnT

Chu Wanning closed his eyes. He had no choice but to become a murderer, so that Xue Meng
wouldn’t lose his spiritual core in vain. He had to harden his heart and slaughter the oppressed,
because it was the only way to keep the world safe. He suffered more than anyone else because of
what he was going to be forced to do. Shi Mei looked at him through the crowd, his beautiful face
wet with tears.

The wind blew, and his clothes fluttered. Shi Mei seemed resigned to his death at Chu Wanning’s
hands. Embracing Sands appeared, and Chu Wanning tried to block the demonic throwbacks with
his holy weapon. His gaze became sharp as a night blade as it raced toward his disciple. At that
moment, the path of martyrdom shook violently beneath his feet, red pillars of light erupting from
the ground.

Shocked, Shi Mei saw a bar of golden brilliance extending from where Mu Yanli’s body lay. It was
heading rapidly for the demonic gate, completing the bridge. Chu Wanning’s expression changed,
and Shi Mei began to smile at the sight of his life’s work on the verge of completion.

“A divine sacrifice has graced the Path of Martyrdom,” thundered a voice from beyond the
demon’s gate. It was so loud it could be heard for a hundred miles around, and those fighting
paused to look up. Jiang Xi’s face paled to white. “Heaven’s punishment is about to fall,”
continued the voice. “His majesty the demon lord has decided to be merciful, and open the gate
immediately. You may return home.”

All the fighting cultivators dissolved into gibbering panic. They shouted in consternation, not
knowing what to do. Some continued to fight, even as they screamed that they didn’t deserve
divine punishment.

Old Xue Meng and his set of Mei twins were shocked as they faced the Evil Overlord, who took
advantage of their distraction to break free of their trap. Xue Meng felt a sharp pain in his chest,
and coughed blood. The Evil Overlord glanced sideways at the commotion as he tried to figure out
what was going on. “Xue Meng?” he asked uncertainly.

“Watch out,” Mei Hánxuě warned, brandishing Shuofeng.

The Evil Overlord, however, did not give a shit about the three of them – his heart surged with
pain. He roared furiously, confused and disoriented, and charged straight into the forest behind the
mountain. Mei Hánxuě blinked, relieved, and turned to his companions.
“Situation report,” he said.

“I’m fine,” Xue Meng said. “Go help Chu Wanning and tell him about the preparations we made.”

“Yeah, no, your spiritual core is cracked and needs healing first,” said Mei Hánxuě.

“Not now!” Xue Meng hissed. “We don’t have time!”

“What if I go, and you two stay,” said Mei Hanxue, knowing that the situation was too urgent to
waste time bickering. “You help him,” he said to his brother. “I’ll go find Grandmaster Chu.”

The Path of Martyrdom snapped into place, finally completed, and the Butterfly-Boned Beauty
Feasts stared at it hungrily. None of them quite dared move, not even Shi Mei, and then the door to
the demon realm rumbled. Clouds streamed to the side and the wind blew in all directions. The
carvings on the gate parted to the left and the right as crimson radiance shone out from the
widening gap in the center.

The demonic gate was open.

------

Heaven and earth changed color, the demonic aura piercing the clouds and arcing toward the
distant Gate of Life and Death. The torrential rain suddenly stopped entirely, and the witnesses
were nervous. They looked between the gates, hearts pounding, but nothing unusual happened.

Just as the people began to breathe sighs of relief, the ground beneath their feet began to shake. The
Gate of Life and Death began to expand at an alarming rate, engulfing the clouds. A sharp piercing
whistle sounded. The Phoenix Bird flapped its wings, blocking out the sun, as large as the heavenly
lake – each feather was at least a hundred meters long.

Mount Kunlun’s snow melted and its icicles shattered. “Tweet!” said the Phoenix Bird. It settled
on top of the mountain and began to cry.

“The ancestral phoenix!” gasped everyone.

An ancient mythical beast, it could move mountains and fill the sea. It was faster than light, and it
cried every time the Gate of Life and Death opened. It was so ancient it appeared on no paintings
or scrolls.

“This was the guardian of the Gate of Life and Death the whole time,” said Chu Wanning.

the gate has opened HOW many times and we have never ever seen a fucking guardian, this
is some retconning bullshit

The Gate was the only technique that could open the voice cage containing the phoenix. It rushed
through time, carrying those who passed through the gate, but it was too big and too fast to be seen,
so no one knew that it existed. It stood now on Mount Kunlun and regarded the earth. “The
heavens shall punish anyone who goes against the natural order of the world,” it said.

The phoenix rose in the air, opening its nine golden wings one by one, and dragging them along
the ground. It flapped its wings and the hills crumbled. Except for being a literal apocalypse, it was
a magnificent sight.

The cultivators all called for retreat, survival their only goal. The army fled the massive bird, and
Mei Hanxue danced up to Chu Wanning. “Tell them to go to the boundary of the portal,” he
insisted. “This mortal world is dead. We’ve been trying to figure out how to minimize disaster, and
we set up an array around the gate.” He explained that they had gone through incredible trials and
tribulations to acquire the Black Tortoise Armor for the array. “Anyway, Grandmaster, please send
everyone there,” he concluded.

The Phoenix flapped its wings again, soaring high, and then turned into a streak of light. The rivers
ran in reverse and the oceans rose thousands of feet in the air. The waters of the great sea returned
to the heavens, turning the nine prefectures instantly into desert. Chu Wanning discovered that
water was faster than people, the floods catching up to the fleeing cultivators. He made a prompt
decision.

“I shall hold back the floodwaters,” Chu Wanning declared grandly. “Mei Hanxue, lead the
retreat.” He summoned his paper dragon and soared high into the sky. “Heavenly Questions!” he
shouted. “Ten thousand coffins!”

The willow vines shot out of the ground to form a dike to hold back the water. Chu Wanning
summoned Nine Songs next, and used it to reinforce the wall of vines. The surging torrents
reached him, splashing over his wall. He looked at Mei Hanxue, who was inexplicably still there.

“Go!” he shouted. Caught by surprise, Mei Hanxue bowed to Chu Wanning and ran for it. The
flood battered the dike.

The Butterfly-Boned Beauties ran for the door to the demon world. Crimson and purple clouds
blended with the world’s despair. The door had completely opened, and Shi Mei was at the front of
the pack. He was enveloped by the demonic aura, shivering, and he was suffused with a sense of
well-being. His spirit core recovered its strength instantly and demonic power surged through his
body.

The ecstasy lit his eyes, and the demonic aura spilled past him to invigorate the rest of his clan.
They finally obtained the strength of their ancestors. An old man appeared in the gate, crimson
eyes sweeping across the crowd. He grinned at them, exposing black and yellow teeth.

“I’ve been here for four thousand years, and for the first time, here you are.” He leaned on his
stick. “Not bad, not bad. You’ve done a lot to oppose the divine realm. I’m pleased.” He stood to
the side. “Please return to your homeland,” he said, beckoning.

The waters surged behind them, but it was a human matter and no concern of the demons. Shi Mei
looked over his shoulder at Chu Wanning, wondering if it was bravery or foolishness that
motivated his former teacher. He suddenly thought of Chu Wanning’s kindness the year he had
walked Shi Mei home under an umbrella, how he had moved a stranded earthworm off the path
and back to safety. He had done such things often, always concerned with the smallest details that
others overlooked.

and pffft, the tension in the scene is gone, deflated like a limp dick or a leaky balloon, because
this flashback is incredibly poorly timed

Shi Mei remembered that he had flattered Chu Wanning by pointing out his kindness, and gently
teased his teacher by mimicking his behaviors. Finally, he had judged his teacher sufficiently
enamored with him and had asked him a question. “Sir, there’s a medicine that can inject essence
into the spirit core,” he said. “I read about it in one of Lonemoon Night’s textbooks. I don’t know
if you’re familiar with it.”

“You want it?” Chu Wanning had said, face dark.

“Do you know it?”

“It was highly respected,” said Chu Wanning, eyes narrowed. “And very well known.”

“I don’t want it,” Shi Mei said. “But I noticed its list of ingredients. One of them was the Butterfly-
Boned Beauty Feast, and I was wondering if you knew what that was.”

“It’s a human,” Chu Wanning said without hesitation, and glanced at the textbook. “Sometimes
those texts don’t do a good job of distinguishing between right and wrong,” he added. “That one is
probably not a good one to study. Study Elder Tanlang’s writings instead.”

“I can only borrow books from other sects from the library,” Shi Mei said. “The ones from here
require that each elder give permission.”

Chu Wanning thought about it for a moment, and then gave Shi Mei the jade token from his waist.
“Just show them that,” he said. “And you can borrow whatever you want.”

It would have been impolite to take the pendant with just one hand, but Shi Mei’s arms were full of
books and he couldn’t extend both. He froze, unsure of what to do, and Chu Wanning tied the
pendant around his waist impatiently. Shi Mei was stunned; no other elder would just
indiscriminately give their library card to a disciple.

“Okay,” Chu Wanning said. “Come on.”

Shi Mei took a deep, steadying breath. He didn’t know why he wanted to cry, but he felt as if he
had been wronged. No one had ever treated him fairly, until Chu Wanning. He was used to being
treated like an animal, but the man in front of him thought he was human. It highlighted how
poorly he had been treated like everyone else.

Although he looked gentle and polite, Shi Mei knew it was a mask he had carefully constructed to
hide his rage. He deflected pain with gentleness, but kindness was nearly his undoing. It caused
him excruciating pain, because his heart was full of hatred. He remembered that day with
something resembling warmth, though, as one of the few pleasant surprises of his life.

“Sir,” he said now. “We’re the same, human and demon.” He spoke very softly, not expecting Chu
Wanning would be able to hear him. Just saying the words made him feel relieved, and he led over
a thousand demonic throwbacks of the Butterfly-Boned Beauty Clan toward the demon gate. They
were going home.

The old demon guard bowed respectfully to Shi Mei. “Young Master, please wait,” he said. “The
demon world is divided into regions, depending on bloodline. We need to test you to see who your
ancestors were, so we know where to send you.”

“Aren’t we all descended from Gouchen’s mother?” Shi Mei asked. “What else is there to test?”

“She is no longer part of the registry,” said the gatekeeper. “So we’ll see where you go according
to what other blood you have.”

Shi Mei frowned; he wasn’t sure how long Chu Wanning would be occupied holding back the
flood, and there were thousands of people behind him waiting to enter. “Hurry,” he said.

oh my fucking god if they are thwarted because of Demonic Bureaucracy--

The gatekeeper waved a hand, summoning a scepter with the head of a beast. He changed, a
hundred ribbons of light floating out of the beast’s mouth to wrap around Shi Mie. “Bai, Cheng,
Xie, Zhou,” he chanted, a ribbon lighting up for each word. “It’s the clan tree,” he said,
interrupting the chant. “It’ll determine which lineage is strongest.” He resumed chanting. “Qin, Fei,
Ouyang, Shangguan, Zhong Li, Luo, Ye, Duan, Chu…”

Although he kept chanting, there was no further reaction from the ribbons. The old demon
frowned, looking at Shi Mei’s face. He smiled with some embarrassment and chanted faster.
Finally, one of the ribbons wiggled, and the gatekeeper lifted it.

“Is this the one? What’s your surname?” Before the gatekeeper could read the ribbon, it crumbled
to ash. “A divine descendent?” the gatekeeper gasped.

“My father was a descendent of the gods,” Shi Mei said. “I don’t see why that matters. I’ve served
the demons all my life.”

The gatekeeper vanished, and a skeletal monster holding a giant axe appeared. It slammed the axe
into the ground, blocking the path to the demon realm. “Gods and demons may never collude!” the
monster howled. “The Path of Martyrdom cannot be completed! Get out of the demon realm!”

The demonic gates started to close and the bridge began to collapse with the terrifying sound of an
avalanche.

------

The crowd of throwbacks milled uncertainly around the bridge, not sure what was going on. Above
them, Chu Wanning’s walls were beginning to splinter. The throwbacks in back called out
anxiously, while those in front gasped in horror at the collapse of the bridge. They were trapped
between the closed gate in front and the gaping chasm behind. Shi Mei took control.

“Stop panicking,” he said, amplifying his voice. “I told you I would send you home, and I will.”

“Grandmaster,” said one of the throwbacks tentatively. “We don’t have the power to fight the
demons.”

“We didn’t before,” Shi Mei said. “But now we do.” He glanced around, seeing them start to calm
down as they remembered they had recovered some of their withered qi. “Slow down the
annihilation of the path,” he said. “I’m going to fight our way through.”

The skeleton waving the axe pounced, and Shi Mei moved to meet it. The Butterfly-Boned
Beauties, which should have been a powerful clan for thousands of years, had met with such
disgrace, and he wasn’t having it. He threw a fireball at the skeleton, leaving a charred mark on the
door.

“You traitor,” hissed the demonic guard.

“My blood isn’t my fault,” Shi Mei returned angrily. “Because of Gouchen’s mother, we were
exiled unjustly. Because my father was descended from the gods, I am welcome nowhere. How is
this just?”

“Traitor,” repeated the skeleton.

The floods raged against Chu Wanning’s barriers in the sky, and he could see that most of the
cultivators had reached the Gate. The Black Tortoise Array was waiting for them. Below him, he
could see Shi Mei locked in battle with a demonic skeleton. He knew that despite their differences,
they all had one thing in common: none of them were willing to just lie down and die.
“Grandmaster!” cried the Butterfly-Boned Beauty throwbacks. “The path is collapsing.”

Shi Mei wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, remembering seeing his mother’s blood on his
father’s face. He remembered his mother’s screams as she told him to run. He had clung to this
hope for so long, he could not let it go. He dodged the axe, movements agile and light, and leapt up
to the skeleton’s shoulder. He grabbed its skull.

The bridge vibrated under their feet, collapsing, and more and more corpses fell into the endless
abyss. Shi Mei glanced over to see his clansmen huddled together, trying to keep the ground
beneath their feet from falling away. All of them, he thought, were pure-blooded demons. The
sound of bats’ wings flapping through the abyss rang in his ears, and he gathered qi in his palm.

The sharp spike of energy stabbed into the skull beneath him, and Shi Mei felt himself to be kin to
a bat – neither bird soaring through the sky nor beast scrabbling in the dirt. His dirty blood would
never be accepted. The skeletal monster crashed to the ground below him, dissolving into black
sand. Shi Mei raced past it, blocking the closing stone door with his own body. His demonic kin
stared at him in shock.

“What are you waiting for?” he hissed, hearing his mother’s voice echoing in his ears. “Run!
Run!!”

All of the qi Shi Mei had left poured out into his body, reinforcing his flesh and bones. Sweat
poured from his skin, but the stone door was slowing down. He looked at the crowd, begging them
with his eyes to move. He had promised to send them home, and he would not break that promise.
Small and insignificant though he was, he held the door open.

Up in the sky, Shi Mei heard a loud crash as the raging floods broke through Chu Wanning’s
barrier. He saw his former teacher thrown under the waves. The waters rushed forward,
disintegrating the dike he had struggled so hard to maintain and throwing the world into chaos. Shi
Mei felt his spirit core begin to splinter under the strain, and blood surged up the back of his throat.

There were only a dozen people left, and he held on. He kept the door from closing, as the last of
his people passed through the gate. There were only eight, then five, and then three. He heard them
call his name, and the pressure on him increased. He scrabbled a last reserve of strength, blood
trickling from his mouth. His heart was as hard as iron as he refused to yield to fate.

“Run,” Shi Mei gasped as the last of his clan crossed the threshold and the gate slammed shut.

The dark sky echoed with the sound of Shi Mei’s bones shattering under the strain, and the
mournful cries of his people were cut off. Blood dripped from the gate, his broken limbs crushed
between the massive rocks, and the divine flood roared past to wash away the bridge. When the
waters sank, nothing was left.

yeah, I have all the sympathy for shi mei and fuck the rest of those assholes

Chu Wanning coughed a few times, his bleary eyes seeing the buildings of Sisheng Peak washed
away by the floods. He had no qi left to call any of his holy weapons. The next wave slammed a
piece of driftwood into his chest and forced him below the surface. He could feel his soul leaving
his body, and he briefly mourned for his students. He hoped the cultivators would be able to
escape.

The thought of Mo Ran made him open his eyes again, seeing the light of the sky far above him,
and he began to hallucinate. A dark mermaid-like figure came toward him, familiar handsome face
criss-crossed with scars. Chu Wanning thought hazily that the body should have been in pieces.
“I’m sorry,” he said with the last of his air.

A hand tugged at him, pulling him into a firm embrace against a cold chest, and someone called
his name. He felt qi flow into him, and then he heard his savior call for No Return. The holy sword
appeared, and the man grabbed it. It dragged them to the surface, and Chu Wanning hacked and
gasped. He finally looked up to see Mo Ran’s cold, clear eyes looking back at him.

Panting, Mo Ran’s sexy lips were parted and somewhat moist. His clothes were soaked, sticking to
his tightly muscled chest. He stared mutely at Chu Wanning. Unable to tell if this Mo Ran was
dead or alive, the Evil Overlord or Grandmaster Mo, Chu Wanning gulped. His Adam’s apple
bobbed up and down, and just as he opened his mouth to speak, Mo Ran embraced him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mo Ran said. “Now that Hua Binan is gone, I’m not a puppet.” He kissed Chu
Wanning’s forehead tenderly and ruffled his soaked hair. “Time to go back to your world.”

------

The Black Tortoise Array was open in front of the gate, the last line of defense. If the ocean broke
through here, it would flood the other world as well. The ancient scrolls stated that if the Gate of
Life and Death were to be damaged, divine punishment would submerge both worlds and they
would belong to the sea.

None of the cultivators were able to remain calm in such unprecedented times, except for the
brothers Mei, who had survived years of the Evil Overlord’s rampages through their world. They
and old Xue Meng were prepared, and calmly took charge of the situation. Mei Hanxue instructed
those who specialized in offensive or healing techniques to go through the gate, while those
specializing in defense were directed to reinforce the Array.

The Array seemed to be a fragile bulwark against the raging torrents of destructive energy in the
distance. One of the cultivators, a particularly attractive young lady, looked at Mei Hanxue with
wide eyes and asked if it could really be stopped. He paused, grinning at her flirtatiously.

“Really?” said Mei Hánxuě, slapping his brother upside the head. “Now?”

“It’s this or wait to die and hook up with a ghost,” Mei Hanxue said.

“There are two of you?” said the female cultivator, looking back and forth between the cold elder
brother and the gentle younger, both with the same face.

“I’m more handsome, right?” said Mei Hanxue with a wink.

“Oh my god,” his brother muttered, burying his face in his hands.

“Please get moving,” called Mei Hanxue. “Offensive and healing cultivators, through the gate.
Defense to the array!” He paused. “Half of the defensive squad to the array.”

“What about the other half?” demanded a pale cultivator.

“The other half is going to close the gate,” said Mei Hánxuě. The Gate of Life and Death had been
opened so wide that it stretched farther than the eye could see. None of the cultivators thought it
could be closed; both worlds had been fused into one. “Ten Thousand Wave Reversal,” added Mei
Hánxuě.

“Isn’t that a cancellation technique created by the Constellation Saint?” said Elder Xun Ji, and a
ripple of understanding passed through the crowd. The cultivators of Bitan Manor, in particular,
remembered hearing of it when Li Wuxin had brought them to Sisheng Peak following the battle at
the Heavenly Rift.

“It can reverse a technique even after it has been cast,” Mei Hánxuě said. “Even one as massive as
this, but it requires the qi of many. That’s why we have to work hard together.”

His words prompted a flood of sudden self-doubt regarding defensive abilities in the crowd of
cultivators, all of whom had a very healthy sense of self-preservation. No one wanted to be part of a
probable suicide mission. Some volunteers moved forward, particularly those from Taxue Palace,
but the majority of the army was too afraid. Mei Hánxuě glared at them, disappointed.

“Everyone wants to be safe in the back,” he muttered. “And then no one is left at the front.”

“I’ll do it,” Jiang Xi said into the stalemate.

With the example of the sect weakest in qi offering to stand their ground, the number of volunteers
increased sharply. It would have been far too shameful to stay behind, most of them suddenly felt,
and Lonemoon Night’s volunteers were followed by Bitan Manor’s. Mei Hánxuě knew that there
still weren’t enough, but the wave was getting closer.

“Ziming, get to the back and cast the curse,” he ordered. “Everyone else, follow me to the array to
reinforce it.

Mei Hánxuě placed his hand on the barrier and poured his energy into it. He was joined by
countless others, qi surging forth in all the colors of the rainbow. The tortoise-shell array lit up the
sky, tail in the ground and head toward the stars, just as the flood slammed into it. The array shook,
water spraying through the weak spots, the energy of the flood knocking many to their knees.

“We need more people!” Jiang Xi shouted, but those who had not already volunteered were further
cowed by the enormity of the task and dared not step forward.

Farther away, old Xue Meng had finished drawing the shape of the reversal technique. He
launched it into the air, streaming waves of qi from the volunteers, and sent it toward the Gate of
Life and Death. The rift was so huge that no one could tell if it was starting to work or not. As it
shone brightly, another wave pounded into the defensive array, further weakening the cultivators
reinforcing it, and a crack started to split it in two.

“At this rate,” Mei Hánxuě said, “we’re going to fail before the gate closes.” Horses’ hooves
clattered across the ground behind him, and he blinked. A group of unaffiliated itinerant cultivators
approached on their swords, accompanied by civilians on horses, and led by two extremely pretty
cultivators in black robes.

“I hear you could use some help,” said Ye Wangxi.

The other leader was the owner of the Flying Flower Island, the Third Madam Sun, also known as
Lady Xu. She straightened her red silk robes and dismounted from her sword. Smoke and dust rose
into the air behind them as Ye Wangxi’s eye roved across the crowd. She glanced at those with
strong qi who nonetheless quailed in fear, and frowned.

“Trash,” she said clearly, flicking her fingers and covering Jiang Xi’s hand with her own.

The combination of Jiang Xi’s weak qi and a mere woman protecting them drove the rest of the
army forward in shame, pouring their energy into the barrier. The array fluoresced, withstanding a
third and then a fourth wave. Behind them, the rift slowly began to close. The sight brought
courage to the hearts of many, and the cultivators poured their qi forth with renewed vigor.
Although the cultivators had finally begun to work together, they could not hope to withstand the
power of divine punishment. A crack rang out at the top of the array, a hairline fracture forming at
its tip and running into the ground like lightning. If it opened, the cultivators knew, it would be a
death sentence.

The earth and sky shattered with a thunderous crash, water rushing forward to sweep through the
cultivator army. Their screams were choked by the rising floods, and only old Xue Meng still stood
unflinching before the Gate. He gritted his teeth. “Faster!”

Young Xue Meng ran toward him, and old Xue Meng grabbed his shoulder. “Let go!”

“You don’t know how to use defensive techniques!” old Xue Meng snapped.

“He needs his sword back,” young Xue Meng said, wriggling free.

“Who?” old Xue Meng asked, and then followed his younger counterpart’s pointing finger to Jiang
Xi. “And why do you have his sword?”

“You don’t know?”

“He died a long time ago in our world,” old Xue Meng said, shaking his head. “I don’t know him at
all.”

“Uh,” said young Xue Meng, obviously trying to think fast.

“I do know that the Evil Overlord tried to force him to hand the scrolls from Lonemoon Night,” old
Xue Meng added, distracted by trying to think back to when he’d known more living people than
dead ones. “Evil shit, like the Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts being used for medicine, or the Yin
and Yang Dual Cultivation techniques.” He glanced at his younger counterpart’s disgusted face.
“What?”

“Nothing,” young Xue Meng said hastily. “What else?”

“He burned the scrolls.” Old Xue Meng closed his eyes. “And he was killed for it. He was a hero.”
He looked up. “That doesn’t explain why you have his sword.”

Young Xue Meng was saved from having to answer by another loud crashing noise from the array;
they both looked over to see blood leaking from Jiang Xi’s lips. Young Xue Meng’s lips firmed; he
wanted to call out to the older man, but didn’t know what to call him. He said nothing, instead
dashing forward to return the blade.

“Get out of here!” Jiang Xi snapped, refusing to take the sword and pushing young Xue Meng back
toward the rift. “Stop causing trouble!” He coughed another mouthful of blood.

istg the bloody coughing is the dumbest fucking shit, I realize it is a convention of the genre
but it’s so incredibly stupid

“Jiang Yechen!” young Xue Meng blurted out.

“Who said you could call me that?” Jiang Xi snapped, gasping for breath. “You don’t get to use
my courtesy name! Or my given name!”

The array cracked for a third time, and young Xue Meng found himself dragged backward by his
grip on the holy weapon Xuehuang. An entire area had fallen out of the defensive array, allowing
the flood waters to surge forward. Those standing by the gate knew that the apocalypse was nigh.
Many knelt, wailing, and the stream of qi into the reversal technique faltered. Some shouted to the
skies that it was unfair. Just as all hope seemed lost, a jade-green ray of light chopped down amidst
the gushing torrent. The army looked to the sky to see a blurry figure approaching faster than a
fireball, able to leap the height of the array in a single bound.

“It’s a bird!”

“It’s a carriage!”

“No, it’s Mo Ran!”

The figure of a man in black and gold armor became clear, and as he got closer, it also became
clear that he was covered in wounds. The shadow of his formerly handsome appearance was still
visible beneath the scars. With him was the Holy Grace Immortal, the legendary Chu Wanning.
Both of them were soaked to the skin and windblown, but the cultivator army didn’t care what they
looked like.

“We’re saved!” they shouted joyously. “We’re saved! Help us, Mo Ran! Help us, Chu Wanning!”

“What The Hell, Ten Thousand Coffins!” Mo Ran bellowed, landing in front of the Black Tortoise
Array. Countless vines shot out of the ground, pulling those who had been submerged in the waves
to safety. Ye Wangxi flashed past, followed by Third Madam Sun, Jiang Xi, and many others. Mo
Ran glared at those still cowering in the back. “Get up here, you assholes!” he shouted. “Why the
fuck is a healing grandmaster doing your job for you? Do you want to die?”

let me once again point out that Ye Wangxi has done literally nothing meaningful since we
learned she was a woman – even here, at her alleged Grand Inspirational Moment, she is
immediately swept away by the waves and Mo Ran STILL has to Be The Hero to get the
crowd to participate

Despite his inspirational words, many of the crowd were drenched and terrified. Covered in dirt
and mud, no one moved forward. Mo Ran gritted his teeth.

“If you do not all step forward this instant,” he said. “When we’re done I will hunt you down and
kill you myself.” At their continued hesitation, he raised his voice. “Now!”

There was something about the Evil Overlord’s appearance, even covered from head to toe in
bleeding wounds, that was terrifying enough to motivate the cultivators into stepping forward.
Given a choice between probable death at the hands of divine retribution and certain death at the
hands of a madman who refused to stay dead, the cultivators chose to move forward and place their
hands on the barrier.

The faltering array recovered, steady and whole, snapping back into place just as a ten-thousand-
yard tall wave bore down upon the army. Some of the cultivators flinched, moving as if to flee. Mo
Ran glared at them furiously. “If you retreat, I will hunt you down,” he promised.

------

The waves crashed down, shaking heaven and earth. Even the sun and the moon were shattered by
the waves. The veins in the Evil Overlord’s arms bulged and his teeth snapped. Chu Wanning
approached the gate behind him, patting old Xue Meng on the shoulder. His student’s counterpart
looked at him as he had when he was young.

“Sir,” he said.
“I’m here,” Chu Wanning said simply.

Bright green light shone, heralding the appearance of Nine Songs. Chu Wanning stood like the
wind, the zither strings twanging, and the gate began to close faster. He continued to pluck the
zither strings.

“Everyone stand behind me,” he ordered grandly.

No one would even consider disobeying an order from the Holy Grace Immortal, and they instantly
fell into line. Some supported their wounded companions across the threshold of the gate to Mount
Kunlun, turning to look at the Chu Wanning. He stood before the snowy plains, wide sleeves
flapping as the zither twanged. Stricken with awe, the retreating cultivators pondered the saying
that an immortal body that lasted ten thousand years was needed to possess the strength to destroy
heaven and earth.

They were humbled at the great man before them, using his frail mortal flesh and blood to
transcend the powers of the divine. Snow fell from the sky to flake his shoulders in white, until
someone noticed that it wasn’t snow. The crystalline petals were part of the Divine Wood of the
East Sea, called to their kin. The flowers emitted an extremely fragrant aroma, clearing the clouds,
and his body was like a dying tree, covering the sky.

ah I see we have returned to the parody structure in which we must be reminded of how
Awesome and Special chu wanning is

The Evil Overlord glanced at the shrinking gate and began to call for the cultivators around him to
retreat. Some withdrew as instructed, others stayed and insisted they could help. The Evil Overlord
was unimpressed with the last-minute heroics. “I told you to scram!” he said. “It’s like you’re
trying to piss me off!”

The cultivators began to pour through the Gate, but then a trembling voice caught his attention.
“Emperor,” said Eunuch Liu. “What about you?”

Stunned, the Evil Overlord looked at his old servant. He thought for a moment he was
hallucinating the old man staring at him with pity and pain, like a father looking at his child. He
shook his head at the impudence of such a familiar expression, held back by the memory of
Eunuch Liu’s son who had died the year before he had taken up service in Wushan Palace.

the eunuch’s what, now

The boy had been roughly the same age as Mo Ran, the Evil Overlord remembered. “I will be the
last to leave,” he said. “Naturally. Because I’m the strongest. No need to worry.”

“Your majesty,” Eunuch Liu protested.

“Go,” said the Evil Overlord. “I want you to live.” He smiled crookedly. “Your son might still be
alive over there, you know.”

The Gate continued to shrink as the defenders retreated, each loss increasing the strain on the Evil
Overlord. When the last hundred people remained, he narrowed his eyes and told them to stop. The
rift had shrunk to the size of an ordinary gate, and there was very little time remaining. The
approaching flood, however, was too fast, and as the last hundred people raced for the gate, it
slammed into the barrier.

Only the Evil Overlord held the array in place, and he groaned with strain. The waves were like a
gale and whales broke surface. The water was like a dragon-girl dance shaking the earth. One of
the cultivators hesitated at the gate. “Grandmaster Mo,” he ventured.

“Grandmaster my ass!” the Evil Overlord snapped. “Will you just get moving! Scram!”

The cultivator fled, followed rapidly by the rest. The gate shrank further, and the Evil Overlord
glanced over his shoulder. He could tell that the counter-incantation was splintering under the
strain, he was at the edge of his strength, and there were still nearly a dozen people on the wrong
side. For all of his might, he was still a mortal who couldn’t hope to stand against the divine will of
the heavens.

A clanging noise sounded as he shouted over his shoulder. “It’s coming down! Move your asses!”

Blood seeped from his lips and his long eyelashes tenderly brushed his cheeks. He looked at his
left foot as it slowly started to dissolve into dust. He was not afraid. He knew he was a living
corpse, and without Shi Mei’s qi to sustain him, his body would turn to ash. It was enough for him
to defeat fate before he died. His only regret was Chu Wanning, still in the wrong world, along
with Xue Meng and the Mei twins.

“Young Master!” shouted the cultivators of Sisheng Peak who had already gone through.

“You mean that one,” old Xue Meng said helpfully, pointing at his counterpart, who just rolled his
eyes in irritation. “One mountain can’t have two peaks,” he added. “I don’t belong in your world,
and my last wishes have now been fulfilled.” Fan over his shoulder, he walked to the Black
Tortoise Array. “I’m tired anyway.”

He looked at the Evil Overlord, expression complicated, but he said nothing. Sisheng Peak called
out to him, but his parents were gone, and so were his friends. He wouldn’t have known what to do
with himself in another world, and he didn’t want to replace his younger self. Xue Meng sighed,
rubbing the back of his neck, and grinned.

Old Xue Meng reflected that old age must be like this – moments of dazed confusion interspersed
with the memories of youth. He knew what belonged to him, and what no one could take away. He
remembered his old friends like ghosts, knowing that he belonged in this dying world. He slipped
through the barrier to the raging waves beyond.

that’s not old age, that’s dementia, but ok, sure, if this is how you want to not have to deal
with two Xue Mengs, then sure, fine, though I am pretty sure it is 100% out of character for
him not to hold the fucking barrier but then we couldn’t have a Very Dramatic Solitary Mo
Ran and it would step on the Author’s Pet having his Dramatic Scene

The disciples of Sisheng Peak fell to their knees amidst the deathly silence. Taxue Palace’s
disciples came to a horrified realization, looking at the Mei twins, and began to shout for their
return. Mei Hanxue waved cheekily at them. “We’re staying here, too,” he called. “One of me over
there is enough, okay?”

Mei Hánxuě shot his brother an unreadable look and bowed precisely. “Sect Leader,” he said
politely.

Ming Yuelou closed his eyes and sighed into the wind. The two brothers knew they were leaving a
heavy responsibility with their counterparts, but death felt lighter than a feather. They faced the
torrential torrent of water, plunging into the vast ocean and disappearing without a trace.

one, why do we have time for all of this melodramatic faux-tragic bullshit when it was
previously established that the barrier is breaking and the gate shrinking so fast that five
people can’t run through it, and two, it feels incredibly cheap that we have Old Xue Meng
and Old Mei Twins introduced just so that the tortoise array is there to save the rest of the
cast before they are unceremoniously murked, like, they actually deserved so much better,
but author cares about precisely no one who is not named mo ran or chu wanning

The twanging zither stilled, now that every cultivator had gone from the field. Chu Wanning raised
his eyes, dismissing Nine Songs, and his white robes fluttered as he stood with his back to the
crowd. “There’s still one last crack,” he said, and the wind sent his hair streaming dramatically and
attractively off to the side. “Close it.”

“Grandmaster Chu!” wailed the crowd in protest. “Don’t leave us!”

Xue Meng rushed across the ice, slipping and sliding, calling for Chu Wanning. The treacherous
surface whipped his feet out from under him, and he skidded across the icy ground. “Sir,” he
coughed out.

“I’m sorry,” Chu Wanning whispered, meeting his gaze, and terror stabbed Xue Meng’s heart.

“Sorry for what?” he wanted to rage – the relationship with Mo Ran, for deceiving the cultivation
world, or had he found something else entirely to apologize for? “Don’t go!” Xue Meng shouted,
kneeling on the snowy plain. “Why does everyone have to leave?”

Tears streamed down his cheeks, cutting pale paths on his bloodstained face. He stretched out a
hand, reaching for the only person he loved left alive. His parents and cousin were both dead, his
sword had been destroyed, and Xue Meng had nothing left. He couldn’t understand that Chu
Wanning was already dead.

god I hope he stays that way but I sincerely doubt it

The burden of being placed on a pedestal was too heavy for Chu Wanning to bear. He had watched
his lover die in his arms. He had dismembered his beloved. He had had to face off against his old
friend with a sword. Chu Wanning could take no more. He set foot into the gate, going back into
the broken world and its vast raging ocean.

The only person left alive was still holding the array. Chu Wanning came up behind him and
embraced him from behind, tracing his myriad wounds gently with his fingertips. The Evil
Overlord was shocked.

“Did you,” he asked hoarsely.

“I did,” Chu Wanning said. “Hell is too cold for me. I came to die with you.”

Warm body embraced cold. The Evil Overlord’s body was slowly falling apart, his left leg nearly
entirely gone. His expression was very complex. He pursed his lips and looked away. “You’re such
a pain in the ass,” he said. “You don’t need to be here.” His heart had overflowed with love. “By
the way, there’s something you ought to know.”

“What is it?”

“Okay, but first I need to hear something from you. Do you like me? I know you were in love with
Grandmaster Mo, but I’m not him.” He blushed in humiliation; only the total collapse of an entire
planet had given him the excuse to ask an emotionally honest question. He clenched his hands in
shame, only to realize that his left hand was falling off. His burning heart gradually cooled as he
waited for Chu Wanning’s reply.

A pair of warm hands took his face. “You’re an idiot,” Chu Wanning said. “You’re the Evil
Overlord, and you’re Grandmaster Mo. You’re both people.”

The array behind them flickered and darkened, and no light was left in the world. The sun, moon,
and stars had been extinguished by the divine punishment. Chu Wanning embraced his
disappearing lover with a solemn yet calm gaze as the ash reached his chest.

“I will always be yours,” Chu Wanning said as Mo Ran’s black eyes stared at him. “No regrets.”

The Evil Overlord stiffened, then closed his eyes. Tears clung to his long and slender eyelashes as
he finally let his manly and cold mask go. He pressed his lover to his dissolving chest with his one
remaining hand, and kissed Chu Wanning’s hair.

“Yep,” he said. “I’m pretty dumb.” He paused. “Sorry, Wanning.”

Chu Wanning pressed his head against his ear, ruing the many years of hatred across both
lifetimes. There was a moment of rare peace in the life of an Evil Overlord. He heard Mo Ran sigh.

“Well, time I told you the secret,” Mo Ran said. “It has to do with Grandmaster Mo. He, uh, put his
soul in my body.”

Chu Wanning was stunned. “He what?”

“I have bits of his soul in me, but my heart is like a rock. So I don’t want to merge with the three
souls and the five souls, but really, I thought you should know.” The Evil Overlord bit his lip.
“Wanning,” he said. “He’s here, don’t worry.”

After a minute, the Evil Overlord opened his eyes. But they were different, despite being the same
eyes, having a pure and gentle aura. Chu Wanning was astonished. He gasped.

“Mo Ran?”

A huge wave crashed down with a bang, destroying the array. The two sank into the vast ocean,
disappearing beneath the water. In the crystal bubbles, Mo Ran opened his eyes. He thought the
water was deep, like his love, and he promised that he would always be with Chu Wanning.
Stealthily, he called his holy weapon.

With a flick of his wrist, Mo Ran launched Chu Wanning through the Gate of Life and Death. Chu
Wanning screamed overhead, the sound fading away in the distance. Mo Ran floated on the water,
smiling, until only his face was left. The rest of his body had turned to ash. Then his face dissolved
into the water.

As he faded, Mo Ran wished for Chu Wanning to live. He sent thoughts and prayers that Chu
Wanning would forgive him. He also wanted Chu Wanning to know that he would be with him
forever.

I am dying laughing at the mental image of a soaking wet chu wanning flying through the air
shouting mooooooo raaaaaaaaaaaaaan at the top of his lungs, kind of like a wet cat launching
itself out of a bathtub. That plus the Cheshire cat act mo ran is pulling at the end there is
peak comedy, but I’m pretty sure that I’m supposed to be crying. To be fair, I do have tears
in my eyes, but that’s because I’m laughing so hard….

------
Mo Ran opened his eyes to a purplish-red sky, and blinked. He hadn’t expected to open them at all.
Warily, he stood and found himself in a massive palace made of amethyst. A barefoot man holding
a luminous glass full of amber liquid in one hand stood next to a window. Outside the window was
a tree with bright red flowers, their centers made of silver.

Certain that there was no such palace in the mortal world, Mo Ran asked, “Where am I?”

“You’ve very calm, hero,” said the man. He was facing Mo Ran, but his face was still in shadow.
He emptied his glass, placed it on the windowsill, and walked across the floor. Once out of the
shadows, Mo Ran could see that he looked like Gouchen the Exalted, lips thin as if he had a poor
temper, and with a spider mole under one eye. “I’m the second generation sect leader of the demon
world,” he said. “This is the demon palace.”

“If it pleases you, I will think of you as Emperor Yanluo,” Mo Ran said.

“Do you really think you’re dead?”

“I don’t think I’m dead, but I don’t think I’m alive, either.”

“You’re right,” said the demon lord, smile widening. He reached out, poking a finger through Mo
Ran’s chest. There was no pain. “You’re just a soul.” He withdrew his hand. “Now, you made it
possible for someone to return to the demon realm without following my edicts.”

“Hua Binan did it,” Mo Ran said immediately.

“Ah, the bastard child of gods and demons,” sighed the demon lord. “He swore he would never
harm his own kind, and yet he broke that oath.”

“You mean Song Qiutong?”

“You know who I mean,” said the demon lord, caressing Mo Ran’s face. “You knew the moment
the gate to this realm opened, or you wouldn’t have made the promise you did to that cultivator.”
His gaze was knife-sharp, and Mo Ran dropped his eyes. “Mo Weiyu, you know there is a
particularly special Butterfly-Boned Beauty type, one that doesn’t shed golden tears or have a
demonic aura. They are nearly undetectable, unless one knows their ancestry.” He stood tall,
casting a long shadow.

“And?” said Mo Ran.

The demon lord laughed. “You know that the type of qi inherited is particularly intense. Much like
that of Song Xingyi, many years ago.” His finger lit up with dark purple light, and he flicked it
toward Mo Ran. A sense of well-being surged through him, and the demon lord smiled. “See? You
can absorb my energy. You’re one of us. Although even Hua Binan didn’t know it.”

yet another retcon asspull, because author wants the Tragic Heroic Sacrifice AND the
Happily Ever After, which makes both of them much less impactful

“And?” Mo Ran said again, lifting his eyes.

“And he hurt you,” the demon lord said. “Broke his oath. He hurt you for a lifetime.”

Not particularly caring about Hua Binan’s broken oaths, Mo Ran folded his arms. “Okay, so can I
go back?”

“Back?” said the demon lord. “Where?”

“To the mortal world.”

“What’s so good about them?” The demon lord waved a dismissive hand. “You’re a demon, so I
can summon your soul here. You could live here for ten thousand years.”

“I serve no one,” Mo Ran said with a smile. “Others serve me.” At the demon lord’s skeptical
eyebrow, he flung his hands wide. “Okay, fine, there’s one exception.”

“A piece of wood,” said the demon lord flatly.

“He’s not a piece of wood,” Mo Ran returned indignantly.

The demon lord rolled his eyes. “I was just trying to be polite. He’s not human, he’s not a god, he’s
just a rotten little seedling.” He stopped at the increasing fury in Mo Ran’s face. “You really are an
idiot. Look, if you go back, all you get is a few decades. Maybe a century.”

“That long?” Mo Ran said. “That is truly a long life for a mortal.”

“Humans are like ants,” the demon said, annoyed. “What can you do in a few decades? What
would they do even if you gave them centuries? Look at all the trouble they’ve caused. And yet
you still want to go back there. Idiot.”

Mo Ran burst out laughing. “How did you know?” he said. “Everyone calls me an idiot.”

“You are literally the worst demon,” the demon lord said, rubbing his forehead as if he had a
headache.

“I thought I felt something when the gate opened, but honestly, I never felt like a demon,” Mo Ran
said contritely to the demon lord’s glare. “But I am thankful that you saved my soul.” He gathered
his strength to give the demon lord the most intense pair of puppy-dog eyes he could muster, the
expression that had melted the hardest of hearts. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I have to go home.”

Silence stretched between the two of them. The demon lord broke it first. “Tell me why,” he said.

“I promised someone that I would always be with him,” Mo Ran explained.

At Taxue Palace, the snowfall had stopped. The Gate had closed, and the torrent of recent events
seemed like an absurd dream in the face of the peaceful and snow-covered landscape. The first
multicolored light penetrated Chu Wanning’s vision, and cries of “Grandmaster Chu!” rang in his
ears.

Face devoid of emotion, two lifetimes’ worth of dust were in Chu Wanning’s eyes. For a moment,
he didn’t know where he was, but eventually he figured it out. He turned his head sadly to the side.
“Mo Ran,” he said hoarsely.

As if in response to his voice, streaks of red-gold light spun outward from the slowly fading
remnants of the gate. Chu Wanning opened his eyes and sat up abruptly, leaning forward to peer at
the phenomenon. Hope flared in his chest and he struggled to his feet. No one helped him as he
staggered toward the light. Everyone knew by now that Mo Weiyu was innocent, but at what cost,
thought Chu Wanning. He was too hazy with grief, arrogant and addicted to himself, and he knew
that Mo Ran had had those same qualities. They lived without regret or regard for others.

at no point did we establish that mo ran was innocent of anything – most of what he
confessed was shit that he actually did, and also chu wanning broke into a prison and
murdered a bunch of people, in addition to which master/disciple banging is taboo; to say
that they are forgiven for their bullshit in light of having literally saved everyone would be
accurate, but to say that they are innocent and everyone knows it is some revisionist fucking
bullshit.

“Sir!” Xue Meng called, starting toward his teacher only to be distracted by Lonemoon Night
screaming for their sect leader. He turned to see Jiang Xi collapsed in the snow, surrounded by
puddles of slushy blood. He went toward the sect leader instead. Despite Lonemoon Night being
the medical sect, it took far too long for the disciples and elders to find the gaping wound at Jiang
Xi’s waist. It took even longer for someone to start to try to treat it. Shaken, Xue Meng found
himself frozen. He was still holding Jiang Xi’s holy weapon, and he sank to his knees.

Chu Wanning heard Mo Ran’s voice in his memory, promising to always be with him. He didn’t
dare hope, but a shiver ran down his spine. The rising sun began to pierce the darkness of the great
abyss, washing away the cold and dreary night. Its golden light shone on the mountain, celebrating
the survival of the world with golden splendor.

Staring into the rising sun, Chu Wanning summoned his paper dragon. Its huge body dropped into
the snow with the sound of a great bell. It smiled at the sight of the living Chu Wanning. “Hey
boss,” it said. “Everything okay now?”

“Yes.”

Thrilled, the paper dragon flew in a joyous circle. It teased him as it landed. “And yet you’re still
single.”

“I need you to take me somewhere,” Chu Wanning said, heart beating like a drum. The dragon
dropped to allow him to mount, asking no questions. “Nanping Mountain,” Chu Wanning told it.
“I’m going to see him.”

The dragon soared through the heavens, the skies clear. They went past the misty, snowy Kunlun
Road and sped toward the distant river lake. Mo Ran had promised to come back, Chu Wanning
thought, and he believed him. Nanping Mountain was where the streaks of golden-red light would
end up, Chu Wanning thought, and he directed the dragon to land in the bamboo forest.

“Is he here?” asked the dragon curiously.

Chu Wanning climbed down, feeling as if something heavy sat on his chest. “I saved his body
here,” he said. “So if his soul can return, it should come here.”

Suddenly afraid that Mo Ran’s soul would not return, Chu Wanning clamped his jaw shut. He
paced nervously, fighting with himself not to speak. He wanted to give Mo Ran a fair chance, he
thought.

“What if he doesn’t?” asked the dragon. “What if that light scatters?”

“Then I’ll burn you and bury you with him,” Chu Wanning snapped.

and here we are being an asshole to the dragon again

“Whatever,” said the dragon, shrinking until he was small enough to fit on Chu Wanning’s
shoulder. “Honestly, I’d believe you would bury yourself here first.” He scratched Chu Wanning’s
cheek with his tail. “You look like a man making his final bet.”

With a sigh, Chu Wanning closed his eyes. The dragon wasn’t wrong. He was betting on the man
whom he had loved for two lifetimes and wanted to love for the rest of his life. The thatched
cottage in the distance was in a state of disrepair, and Chu Wanning floundered through the snow
toward it. He stood in front of the dilapidated wooden door, his adam’s apple bobbing as he
swallowed.

“Just open it,” the dragon said finally. “Or I will.”

The door opened, originally ajar and drifting with an errant breeze. Chu Wanning stood frozen
outside, able to see inside. The snow scattered across the floor, covering a man’s shoulders. The
man paused, then slowly turned. It was as if the earth had been rejuvenated and the summer son
risen.

Chu Wanning felt the world surge through his heart. He wanted to run forward, but he couldn’t
move. The handsome boy walked toward the Constellation Saint, walking toward the beginning of
both their tangled fates. “Chu Wanning,” he said.

The dragon poked Chu Wanning in the waist. Only then did he regain some composure, but he was
unable to speak. He walked to the man standing under the dead wood of the roof, to the end of the
world.

oh my god how much more of this Wannabe-Touching-Reunion bullshit is there

The wind blew through the leaves of the forest, causing them to shiver. Chu Wanning heard Mo
Ran’s voice echoing out of the past, his disciple begging for his attention. The empty valley was
quiet and serene, as if they were the only two people left alive. Mo Ran wore a robe, his face pale.

leaves in the middle of winter, you say, and also given that you both just left a literal dead
world being the only two people left seems more like a horror scenario but sure we’ll go with
Oh How Romantic It All Is

“Pay attention to me, sir,” Mo Ran said, and the wind stopped. “I saw a demon,” he added. “It was
a very interesting experience. Which I need to tell you about.”

After the apocalypse, Chu Wanning thought, maybe new plum blossoms would blossom over a
bloodstained world.

idk how you can write well over 500,000 words and somehow manage to have zero character
growth for the entire massive cast of characters but here we are
 Book 3, Part 5: Decisive Battle - Epilogue

One Month Later, Wuchang Town

The peddler beat his drum and walked through the streets, advertising his stock of Holy Night
Guardians for only thirty coppers apiece – created by the legendary Constellation Saint himself,
the peddler assured the crowd that wasn’t paying attention. Children ran past, laughing as they
clutched kites and candied fruits. A young girl tugged at the peddler’s clothes, asking for a Holy
Night Guardian.

“How about this one?” the peddler said, picking one painted red.

“Yes!” said the girl, and pulled her coins from her pocket. She was three coins short, and her eyes
widened. “Oh, no, did I lose some?” she lamented, and counted them again, but there were still
only twenty-seven. “I don’t suppose you could sell it to me for this?” she asked hopefully.

“Kid, I spent twenty-five coppers,” the peddler said. “I have to make a living, too.”

“My dad is going to scold me,” the girl said, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Take these,” said a gentle, refined voice. The girl looked up to meet jade-like eyes. Mei Hanxue
smiled. “Such a pretty girl shouldn’t be crying,” he said, and crouched down to look her in the eye.
He handed her the red construct and paid the peddler.

Ahead of him, another man with the same face rolled his eyes. “She’s way too young for you,” he
said.

“Please, she’s a child,” Mei Hanxue laughed. “Nothing wrong with telling a kid she’s cute.”

The two brothers were on their way to Sisheng Peak to celebrate its re-establishment and offer
congratulations from Taxue Palace. The cultivation world had been reshuffled over the past month,
with Sisheng Peak ranked now in the top three, and no longer having a poor reputation.

“The sect leader is waiting at the Sword Dance Platform, young master Mei.”

Most disciples were practicing drills when the Mei twins arrived, and the platform was empty and
quiet. A man dressed in fine clothing stood before a white jade fence, looking at the misty clouds
around the mountain peak. The Mei twins approached, rustling the grass with their footsteps.

“You’re here,” said the man, without turning around. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Really, Ziming?” said Mei Hanxue with a laugh.

The sect leader turned around, face still bearing the immaturity of youth and extravagantly
handsome good looks. “It’s been a busy few days,” he said, looking past them. When he saw no
one else was there, some of the tension left his shoulders. “Elder Xuanji keeps reminding me of
rules and etiquette and I’m terrible at it. Apparently I’m also supposed to only say two words at a
time. Which Elder Xuanji says is being concise.”

Mei Hanxue’s mouth twitched. “That sounds, uh.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not laughing,” Xue Meng said, pointing at him.

“No, no, no one would dare make fun of Sect Leader Xue,” Mei Hanxue said gravely, but his eyes
sparkled.

“Oh my god, don’t call me that.”

“You’ll have to get used to it,” Mei Hánxuě said. “After all, you’ll bear it the ret of your life.”

“Way to tell me the most depressing thing I have ever heard,” Xue Meng said, glaring.

Mei Hanxue couldn’t suppress his laughter a second time. He put his hands on his hips when he
calmed down and looked at Xue Meng. “Honestly, you can make your own rules, though, right? I
mean, look at Jiang Xi of Lonemoon Night, he does whatever he wants.”

Mentioning Xuan Ji appeared to have been a mistake, as the tension immediately returned to Xue
Meng’s shoulders. His hands tightened inside his sleeves as he remembered having just recently
going to Lonemoon Night. He had seen that although Jiang Xi had survived his serious wounds, he
would never recover fully. It was a testament to the great skill of his sect that he was as well as he
was, particularly considering that the demonic energy had wreaked havoc upon his body.

Outside his room, Xue Meng had asked what would happen to Lonemoon Night’s sect leader, and
the elder in charge of his care had simply shaken his head. “The gate to the demon realm hadn’t
been opened for thousands of years, and there are simply no records of cultivators being infected
with demonic energy. We’ll have to wait and see.”

The jade-colored curtains covered the entrance, hiding Xue Meng’s view into the room. He
grimaced. “Can you cure him?” he pressed.

“I don’t know,” said the elder.

“If there’s anything I can do to help, please come find me at Sisheng Peak,” Xue Meng said.

The elder politely bowed to mask his confusion at the unexpected offer. “Thank you,” he said.

Although he wanted to go inside, Xue Meng simply looked at the door again from the outside. He
knew it wouldn’t be appropriate to penetrate the sect leader’s inner sanctum, particularly not when
Jiang Xi was unconscious and could not give permission. “I’ve returned his holy weapon,” he said
suddenly. “Please remember to tell the sect leader that Elder Feng Jian has it.”

“Of course,” said the elder. “Was there something else?”

“No,” Xue Meng said. “I’ll be going now.”

“Lonemoon Night thanks the sect leader for coming in person,” said the elder politely, for although
it was known that Jiang Xi and Xue Meng hadn’t gotten along, Xue Meng was still a sect leader
and must be treated with courtesy.

Hundreds of flowers bloomed outside as Xue Meng left the large hall, due to the amount of qi
circulating through the air. He looked at the snow falling over the blossoming trees, the
juxtaposition seeming to reflect the chaos of his heart. He walked slowly, several elders and
doctors trailing behind him, and heard a bell ring.

A young man no older than Xue Meng approached, carrying two swords. He was broad-shouldered
and handsome, but his aura seemed gentle. Xue Meng couldn’t help but stare. “Sect Leader Xue,”
said the young man, with a polite bow.

“May I ask who this is?” Xue Meng said, stopping.

“A close attendant of the sect leader,” said one of the elders accompanying him. “He has been
assisting him in managing the sect’s internal affairs. He doesn’t leave the sect often, but the sect
leader has relied heavily upon him.” The elder smiled, obviously afraid of the young man.

“I see,” said Xue Meng, and the young man bowed again. He gave Xue Meng a smile. His face
was memorable even to Xue Meng, who rarely remembered faces, with eyes as bright and gentle as
countless stars. Xue Meng narrowed his eyes, trying to find a flaw, but there was none.

The young man seemed gentle in appearance. He was tall and astonishingly handsome, with
glowing delicate skin. He looked, Xue Meng thought, like someone who should rank among the
elites instead of working as a low-ranked laborer. For hiding this pearl in the muck, he concluded,
Jiang Xi really was an asshole.

[and here we go again with the pretty people shouldn’t have to do hard work bullshit again]

After a few moments of being silently stared at, the young man started to look uncomfortable. “Is
something wrong, sect leader Xue?” he asked.

Xue Meng started. “Nothing,” he said, but he continued to stare. As the sect leader, he couldn’t be
told the other man’s name without social consequence, but he was intensely curious.

“Ah, don’t mind sect leader Xue,” said the elder. “He’s very young. But this young man’s
management has been outstanding, particularly considering how small Linling Island is. He puts us
to shame with his hard work.”

“You’re too kind, sir,” said the young man, blushing.

Even more curious, Xue Meng suddenly realized the man was carrying a lacquered wooden tray.
“Are you, by any chance, going to see Jiang Xi?”

Not having expected to hear his sect leader referred to by name, it took the young man a moment
to answer in the affirmative. Xue Meng thought quickly; if he asked to accompany him, the youth
wouldn’t be able to refuse the request. It would get him into Jiang Xi’s room to see for himself
how the man was really doing. He was about to speak, when the youth cleared his throat.

“I’m delivering the medication to my foster father,” he said softly.

“Your what?” Xue Meng said, stunned.

“He’s the sect leader’s adopted son,” said the elder hurriedly and apologetically.

Emotions roiling, Xue Meng spun on his heel and left. He stalked down the hall, ignoring the
flurry of questions behind him asking how Lonemoon Night had caused offense. He gritted his
teeth, telling himself that he wasn’t jealous and didn’t care whether or not Jiang Xi had raised a
stray or two on the side. He was just annoyed, he thought, that Jiang Xi pretended he was single
and childless but actually had adopted a very capable son and kept him secret.

“What is wrong with you?” Mei Hanxue asked, and Xue Meng shook off the memories.

“Nothing,” he said. “I just thought of something else.”

Mei Hanxue wisely didn’t press, and let Xue Meng change the subject. The three of them moved
through the grounds, chatting about nothing in particular, until they reached the ancestral hall and
its sweetly blooming trees honoring the sect’s late heroes. Mei Hanxue saw a unique spirit tablet at
the side of the altar, covered with a red handkerchief to hide its inscription, and he raised an
eyebrow.

“It’s Mo Ran’s,” Xue Meng said. “But I don’t actually think he’s dead. I saw our teacher leave
Mount Kunlun the day of the battle. He clearly was going somewhere, but didn’t want company.”
He looked down, biting his lip. “I don’t think either of them are dead.”

“Xue Meng,” Mei Hanxue said.

Turning his head away, Xue Meng looked at the daylight outside the door. “That idiot Mo Ran
never played by the rules,” he said. “I don’t see why this time would be any different.”

Sighing, Mei Hanxue shrugged and looked at his brother. Neither of them wanted to argue. They
bowed respectfully to the dead, while Xue Meng watched from the side, and then Mei Hanxue
patted his friend on the shoulder. “Ziming,” he said. “You’re going to be a good sect leader.”

The black and white words on the spirit tablet gleamed under the light green smoke of the burning
incense. Dust drifted, and Xue Meng glanced at his father’s memorial tablet. “I won’t be a better
sect leader than he was,” he said softly. “Let’s go.”

In the memorial hall, the small piece of lacquered wood did not have the name of the honored dead
written as custom dictated. Instead, Xue Meng had written: The grace of the father is irreplaceable,
loyalty beyond compare. Another inscription at the bottom, written in elegant cursive, held a phrase
that while not humorous to the uninformed, would nonetheless have made Xue Zhengyong laugh
heartily: Xue Lang was very beautiful.

Sisheng Peak held a banquet that night to entertain the envoys from Taxue Palace. As the two sects
were close, it was a small, private affair. It did, however, generate some rumors; the sect leader
was said to have gotten drunk after a mere three cups of light wine. It was widely known that he
would talk to the dead or the absent when drunk – his parents, his teacher, his cousin – and once in
a great while he would address an attendant as Shi Mei.

That particular day, the sect leader spoke of all of them. Only Mei Hanxue answered. Xue Meng
rested his head on his arm, looking out at Mengpo Hall and remembering the lively clamor it had
once held. He thought of his parents toasting each other while Mo Ran and Shi Mei wrapped
dumplings, and the crowd quieting as Chu Wanning walked in wearing a bright red cloak dusted
with snow.

“Sect Leader, you’re drunk,” said Mei Hanxue.

Xue Meng ignored him, but his friend patted his hair. He curled into himself, letting the tears flow;
it was late enough that almost everyone had gone, and he wept quietly. He knew that he needed to
quickly grow into a leader, and thought that perhaps next year or the year after, he would not be so
easily intoxicated. A few years after that, he hoped, he wouldn’t be so ridiculously maudlin, even if
he did get drunk. Some day, he hoped, no one would see the tears of Xue Meng of Sisheng Peak.

[no, xue meng, don’t internalize that toxic masculinity bullshit]

One day, Xue Meng thought, he would grow into a tree supporting the entire cultivation world. The
bygone days would be memories he shared, chatting and laughing with his juniors. Eventually he,
too, would pass, and the memories would fade. Eventually, nothing would be left, he thought, but a
sentence on a folding fan: Xue Lang is beautiful.

The brothers Mei returned to Taxue Palace a few days later to make the announcement that their
sect would form a new alliance with Sisheng Peak. Neither sect saw fit to distinguish between the
upper and lower cultivation worlds, and both wished to bring about a new dawn of peace for all.
Sect Leader Ming Yuelou and Sect Leader Xue Ziming were of one mind.

As with every political shift, some were pleased and some confused. Some were displeased and
others kept their own council. That the boundaries between the former upper and lower cultivation
worlds would blur was the only sure thing, some felt. Some were cautiously optimistic that it might
work out better than Nangong Changying’s ancient attempt to create a paradise, with the nine great
cultivation sects, and some felt that Lonemoon Night and Jiang Xi would cause trouble.

Over the following winter and spring, many wounds slowly healed. Villages which had been
destroyed were rebuilt, and some of those who had lost faith found that the human heart could
change again. New cities were built, and hope began to flicker again. The names of Mo Ran and
Chu Wanning still occupied the mouths of many, some who thought they had been good people
who were wronged.

Slowly, the recent history of the war became the subject of tales for children. The pain and
suffering of the past could be rewritten into hope in the eyes of a child, the tales forming beautiful
legends. Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi became a romance known throughout the realm, the wedding
they had never had enacted by countless boys and girls under old locust trees. Once in a while,
these games were witnessed by a Taoist priest with a pretty face, waist adorned with an old, faded
quiver containing no arrows.

Instead of arrows, the quiver contained a small puppy. The world was peaceful, with no need for
weapons. The priest walked over to the tree, handing the little girl playing Ye Wangi a red
handkerchief. “A wife should be properly attired,” said the priest with a smile. The handkerchief
was old and soft with wear, bearing the name Si embroidered on a corner.

“Thank you,” said the little girl, with an awed smile.

The little pup in the quiver howled joyously, and the priest straightened. The storyteller continued
to tell the tale of Mount Jiao, coaxing tears from the audience, and the locust tree rustled in the
wind. The priest had no tears, walking alone toward the distant mountains with a heart full of joy
and sweetness and lips curved into a smile.

The little girl chased the priest down the road, waving the handkerchief. “Don’t you want it back?”
she panted, finally catching up. “It has his name on it.”

The child was perceptive, thought the priest. “No, I don’t need it.” The figure of Nangong Si
seemed to flicker above the grassland for a moment, frowning as if in reprimand for giving away
his memento. “It’s in exchange for a good marriage,” the priest said gently, and the shade of
Nangong Si rolled his eyes. The shape of their love meant that he was always with the priest – not a
ghost, or an illusion, but a memory.

New Year’s Eve rolled around, marking the end of formal periods of mourning. Xue Meng was
finally officially named the sect leader of Sisheng Peak. He wore a jade crown and the sect
leader’s ring, clad in nine layers of silk and embroidery. He stood tall, face calm, looking every
inch the leader that he hoped to one day be. The shadow of Jiang Xi lay in the shape of his eyes,
but he knew who he wished to honor, and it wasn’t the sect leader of Lonemoon Night.

The elders and disciples of Sisheng Peak gathered to honor and congratulate him, kneeling in
succession. Guests also came to pay their respects, and Xue Meng left his old life behind.
Fireworks blossomed across the night sky as Xue Meng raised his glass to drink with the sect. He
was solemn, as if to embody the virtues of being a sect leader and close the door on his past of
ridiculous mistakes.
“He’s going to end up like Nangong Liu,” Mei Hanxue muttered.

“Stop being so pessimistic,” his brother said.

“I’m not saying there’s something wrong with him, but look at him.”

“It’s not your job to worry about it,” Mei Hánxuě said. “And also no fewer than twenty-six girls
have hit on me tonight. Take off your damn mask and let them chase you instead.”

After the end of the banquet, the many guests were sorted out into their guest rooms. Because of
their sheer number, they had had to be divided into groups looked after by the various elders and
disciples, but Xue Meng was able to return to his room. He was sober, having taken precautions
before the banquet, and he sat down to tiredly rub his brow.

The one thing he wanted was to take off all of the heavy jade ornamentation, and yet there was so
much of it he didn’t know where to start. Elder Xuanji knocked on the door. “Sect Leader,” he
said.

“Yes?”

“A gift from each sect,” the elder said, handing him a stack of red and gold envelopes. “Please read
them carefully and consider how best to offer thanks.”

“Okay,” Xue Meng said, feeling even more exhausted.

“And Sect Leader Jiang wants a meeting.”

“No.”

Hesitating for a moment, Elder Xuanji knew that his sect leader wouldn’t budge on the matter.
“I’ll let him know,” he said.

“Anything else?” Xue Meng asked, almost hoping that there was. He wanted to hear that two
mysterious guests had arrived seeking audience, but Elder Xuanji shook his head and was given
leave to depart.

In the huge bedroom, Xue Meng stood alone. He finally walked to the table to light the lamp and
look at the congratulatory envelopes. Elder Xuanji had arranged them according to monetary value,
with the envelope from the wealthy Lonemoon Night at the top of the pile. It listed extravagant
treasures, but Xue Meng was interested in none of them.

Quickly flipping through the booklets, Xue Meng sought the names of his former teacher and
teammate – some itinerant cultivators would send gifts to a new sect leader even if they didn’t
attend the celebrations – but there was nothing. He had hoped that they would acknowledge this
widely publicized day, if they were still alive, but his hopes were dashed.

Chu Wanning and Mo Ran had completely disappeared from the cultivation world. The jubilant
atmosphere outside was like salt in his wounds. Xue Meng pressed his palms into his eyes; he was
still angry at them for having deceived him, and yet he still loved them. He had been told over and
over again that Mo Ran was dead, and Xue Meng had said he would believe it when he saw the
body.

There was no way, he knew, that the two of them could return to Sisheng Peak after breaking the
taboo forbidding master and disciple from a sexual relationship. He took a deep breath, angry now
that they couldn’t even send him a letter to tell him that they were safe. A faint sigh came from
outside the window, and he froze for a moment before rushing over.

Fireworks illuminated his face as he looked left and right, but he saw no one. Only a long, narrow
brocade box hung from the peach tree outside his window. Trembling, Xue Meng reached for the
box and opened it. Fireworks exploded in the sky, and in its briefly brilliant light, Xue Meng saw a
narrow and curved blade. It had a long body with a silver handle, inlaid with a brilliant crystal.

“Longcheng,” Xue Meng breathed, clutching the box in his arms. He leapt out the window. “Sir!”
he shouted. “Mo Ran!”

The courtyard was lonely and empty, and the only sound was the whistling wind. Xue Meng ran
blindly through the flowers and trees, calling for his teacher and cousin to come out. Finally his
voice gave out, and his footsteps slowed.

“Come back,” Xue Meng whispered.

Leaves rustled faintly, and he looked over to see two people at the eaves of the Heaven-Piercing
Tower. A familiar zither played a haunting song, and Xue Meng stood frozen. When it ended, a
dragon appeared in a golden flash and bore the two away.

[y’all are assholes for not talking to your friend]

Two letters were in the brocade box, Xue Meng found later. One was from Mo Ran, very long and
full of stories. He explained that they didn’t want to damage Sisheng Peak’s reputation by showing
up rashly and without thought. They had managed to reforge Longcheng, he wrote, and thought
Xue Meng might find it useful.

The second letter was from Chu Wanning, much shorter. He wrote that he did not have the right to
face his disciple, and that Xue Meng should cherish the long road ahead. He had embedded
Longchng with a Night Flower, durable enough to last a lifetime, and he hoped the Sect Leader
might see it in his heart to write to him sometimes.

Xue Meng thought about the words Sect Leader for a very long time. Never hearing his teacher call
his name again hurt, weighing him down even more with the burdens of leadership, but at least he
knew that his teacher and cousin were still alive. He hoped he might see them again.

At the foot of the mountain, two men in hooded cloaks stood in Wuchang Town. They walked
through the bustling night market, sitting down at a food cart and ordering a number of dishes. One
frowned at the other for the expense, which he said they could not afford.

“We’ll just have more of the sweet osmanthus,” Mo Ran said to Chu Wanning, and smiled at the
waiter. “You can make that, right?”

“Oh, yes,” the waiter said. “Even though it’s from so far away, Mengpo Hall at Sisheng Peak often
makes this dish. So we here in Wuchang Town also learned.” He leaned in a little more closely.
“We also have the hero menus, if you would like to look.”

“The what, now?” Chu Wanning said.

“You don’t know our heroes?” The waiter stood proudly. “Two cultivators of Sisheng Peak saved
the world. It’s a small thing, but we’ve created menus based on their personal tastes.” He handed a
bamboo fan to each of them. “Honored Cultivator Chu was known to enjoy slightly burnt dishes,
so we have recreated them. The burnt tofu is especially popular.”

Mo Ran abruptly buried his face in a cup of tea and turned his gaze to the menu for Honored
Cultivator Mo. He nearly choked on the tea, barely swallowing it. It took him a few minutes of
coughing to clear his throat.

“Honored sir,” said the waiter, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s fine,” Mo Ran wheezed, and waved the menu. “What, uh, what is this?”

“The crabapple sweets, yes,” said the waiter, beaming again. “Honored Cultivator Mo was known
to enjoy sweet things, and also crabapple flowers. Our lady boss created this item herself. Would
you like to order these courses?”

“No, thank you,” Chu Wanning said after a pause, feeling a headache coming on.

“I’m not really a fan of sweets,” Mo Ran said. “I’ll also have to decline.”

“Ah, well.” The waiter scratched his head regretfully and left to put in the food they had actually
ordered.

Once he was gone, Mo Ran fell against the table, laughing, and Chu Wanning glared at him. “It
wasn’t that funny,” he said.

“Oh, yes, it was,” Mo Ran returned. “What, I can’t be happy?” He turned to look at the bustling
crowd, women picking up jewelry and men drinking. The New Year’s red paper wares were all
over, creating a warm atmosphere. Children ran to and fro, screaming and laughing, and Mo Ran
smiled.

“You know Xue Meng wanted us to stay,” Chu Wanning said abruptly.

“We’d just make things harder for him if we did,” Mo Ran pointed out.

“I know,” Chu Wanning replied.

“He’s still such a child,” Mo Ran muttered, keeping his voice down because the waiter was
returning with their food. As he ate, he kept muttering. “Maybe we could go back in like, a month
or something. But he’ll get pissed off at me all over again after a day or two, you know he will.”

Chu Wanning regarded him steadily. He pointedly lifted his chopsticks and bit through a peanut.
Mo Ran felt wronged.

“He’ll throw me out,” he warned.

“You’re the one being childish,” Chu Wanning said calmly.

“He’s sect leader!” Mo Ran flung his arms to the side. “I should totally be nervous.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Chu Wanning laughed. “He likes you.”

“Whatever, we’ll go sometime.” Mo Ran scratched his head. “You’re right, as always.”

“We’ll go home after we finish eating,” Chu Wanning said, and took another pointed bite.

The two of them hid in the cottage in the depths of the Nanping Mountains. It was odd, sometimes,
to live in the place where Mo Ran had died, but it felt right. Mo Ran picked up a piece of meat and
smiled. “I was wrong,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t want to go back?” Chu Wanning raised an eyebrow. “Afraid he’ll be upset with
you?”

“No, I’m just afraid he’ll cry at me,” Mo Ran said. His eyes were gentle as he spoke, and he sighed.
“It’s a new generation.”

“Less talking and more eating,” Chu Wanning told him. He paused. “How did you know you’d be
back, on that day?” he asked suddenly.

“If I tell you the truth, you’re not going to like it,” Mo Ran said.

“Just tell me.”

“I felt an affinity with the demonic qi when the gate opened, but because I was still under Shi Mei’s
control, I couldn’t do anything about it. But then I remembered something. I was betting that if I
had demonic blood, my soul would be able to find its way back pretty easily if there was a body for
it to go to.”

Chu Wanning frowned. “There are stories about demon souls returning to their bodies,” he said.
“So why didn’t Song Qiutong come back?”

“Maybe it’s a matter of wanting it badly enough,” Mo Ran said. “It was hard, like climbing a rope
slicked with oil. But knowing you were waiting gave me the strength to do it.”

The lantern swayed above his head, and Chu Wanning looked into his black eyes. He felt softness
spread through his chest, and he quickly turned away from the sense of vulnerability. He hadn’t
managed to get accustomed to it.

“There’s one more reason,” Mo Ran added. “The Butterfly-Boned Beauties are only part demon,
but we’re basically human unless that gate is open. I was only as strong as I was because I had the
demonic qi.” He shrugged. “It seemed possible to come back.”

“So you weren’t actually sure,” Chu Wanning said, eyes narrowed.

Mo Ran glanced at his expression and realized he’d mis-stepped. “Uh, this is great fish,” he said
awkwardly.

“Don’t you start with me,” Chu Wanning said. “What if I’d been stuck with a corpse?”

“Well,” Mo Ran said helplessly. “There was no way I could watch you die.” He rubbed the
tabletop with a finger, deducing that Chu Wanning was moved, but also still pissed off. “I watched
you die enough across both lifetimes, you can’t get pissed at me for not wanting to see it happen
again.”

Steam rose from the pot, and Mo Ran took Chu Wanning’s hand in his. He felt his beloved’s
tightly clenched fists loosen. Fireworks crashed overhead, brightly illuminating them for a brief
moment.

“I thought if I was entirely wrong, I would just have to wait for you. For as long as it took,” he
said. “It’s good to be alive, Wanning. I didn’t want you to die just because I did.”

Chu Wanning glared at his renegade disciple who didn’t know how to follow instructions. “Still,”
he said.

The bell atop the Heaven-Piercing Tower rang loudly, interrupting whatever he would have said
next. The sound echoed through the night market. Chu Wanning flinched.
“Oh, shit.”

Every third day, Chu Wanning suddenly remembered, Mo Ran’s consciousness would be
subsumed into the Evil Overlord’s at midnight. He would remain that way for a full twenty-four
hours, which was the other reason Mo Ran couldn’t go back to Sisheng Peak. The Evil Overlord
looked up, smirking.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, and then looked at the dishes in front of him. “All of this is terrible,”
he said, and raised his voice. “Waiter!”

“Mo Ran, sit down and shut up,” Chu Wanning hissed, but he wasn’t quiet enough to prevent the
surrounding tables from hearing the name.

A sudden commotion broke out as the diners began to recognize Mo Ran and Chu Wanning,
shouting their names so loudly that passersby also stopped to look. They began to crowd around,
and Chu Wanning panicked. He leapt to his feet, dragging the Evil Overlord behind him. “It’s so
dark, how could you really tell?” he shouted, and elbowed the Evil Overlord in the ribs.

Grumbling, the Evil Overlord called his sword and they both jumped on it. Only when it was high
in the sky under the bright moon did Chu Wanning breathe a sigh of relief. The only sore spot
remaining was the Evil Overlord whining behind him that there was no reason the civilians should
prefer Grandmaster Mo.

“What’s so good about him?” he bitched. “I’m the one who fixed the array! I’m the one who saved
their lives! And stopped the flood!”

Chu Wanning sighed, feeling that the man in front of him was deeply, deeply petty. The Evil
Overlord glared at him. “The same thing goes for you,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chu Wanning said, and the two of them went home. They were seen occasionally
after that, appearing without warning and disappearing without a trace.

Another legend spread through the cultivation world as well, of a blind doctor who traveled
through the north. He wore a bamboo hat and a veil, and no one had ever seen his face. He was
extraordinarily skilled, and wandered the earth helping thousands of people. Many stories were
told of his great deeds.

The most famous story was of a group of teenagers who had been kidnapped when they were
young, hideously scarred from having had bears’ skin scalded to their flesh. The doctor had used
his own skin to create healthy tissue to heal their scars. When asked his name, he had replied that
he was only a sinner.

Many years later, the great battle had nearly fallen out of living memory. The children had grown
up and gotten married, having children of their own. The heroes had aged. Xue Ziming, Sect
Leader of Sisheng Peak, took in a rogue child as his direct disciple and adopted son. Having no
social graces, the child pestered the infamous Sect Leader to his heart’s content.

He had many questions about Grandmasters Mo and Chu, asking if Xue Ziming still knew them.
“Once in a while,” Xue Ziming said.

“So invite them here,” said his disciple. “Red Lotus Pavilion is empty. No one stays there.
Honored teacher, please call them. I really want to meet them.”

“Do you want to be a hero?” Xue Meng asked his young disciple.
“Of course!” said the boy, trying to look brave. “I couldn’t be useless. I need to do great things!”

“You don’t need to do great things,” Xue Meng said. “If you live well, help the weak and don’t let
the strong bully others, if you honor others and if you aren’t discouraged by adversity – and if
you’re compassionate in all things, then you’ll be a hero.”

His disciple appeared unimpressed. “Sir,” he said, and shut his mouth.

“What?” Xue Meng turned around to catch him yawning.

The boy hastily closed his mouth, trying to straighten his back, and nodded. “I’ll remember, sir,”
he said.

“But do you understand?” Xue Meng asked.

“Uh,” said the youth. “Not, uh. Not really. You’re using a lot of words, sir.”

“It’s too much for right now,” Xue Meng said, patting him on the head. “But there’s one thing that
you really need to know.”

At those words, the little disciple straightened his shoulders attentively and waited for his teacher
to dispense wisdom. Sunlight flowed over Xue Meng’s face, and he smiled. “Don’t make rash
assumptions,” he said. “That is the most important thing.”

The peak of the mountain towered above them as he led his still confused disciple out of the house
and to the end of the garden. The wind blew, and the disciple perked up in the bright sunlight. Xue
Meng took him to the fence.

“What do you see?” he asked.

“Water,” said the disciple. “The house. Fog.”

Xue Meng smiled, listening. Where the student saw a river, Xue Meng saw the path to the
underworld. Sometimes he even thought he saw an old monk holding a soul lamp, asking him to go
with him. Where the child saw mist, he saw scattered souls. His father and mother were there, in
memory, wherever he went. He put a hand on his disciple’s shoulders, looking at the distant
mountain, and thought about the elders of his sect who had passed on.

Elders Xuanji and Jielu had passed away peacefully, and Xue Meng thought about their lives and
deeds. He had arranged their funerals, reminiscing about them with disciples and elders, but
remaining fully in the present. He had grown – he was the sect leader, and he was the Constellation
Saint’s disciple. He had big shoes to fill.

“What are you thinking, sir?” asked his disciple.

“Just things,” Xue Meng said. “Grandmasters Mo and Chu come back on New Year’s Eve,” he
added. “You might be able to see them this year.”

[oh my god they’re Cultivator Santa Claus]

“They could stay longer,” his disciple insisted.

“That would be difficult,” Xue Meng said, thinking of the Evil Overlord.

His disciple wasn’t satisfied with the explanation and just blinked. He sighed. “But sir,” he started.
“Nope, we’re done,” Xue Meng said. “Time for your lessons.”

“But sir,” he said again.

“Now!” Xue Meng barked.

“So mean,” said his disciple, obediently trotted off.

Clear sunlight fell on the teacher and his young disciple through the branches, the wind blowing
across their clothes and sweeping past the magnificent Sisheng Peak. It blew across thousands of
miles of rivers and mountains, brushing against the blind doctor and the priest with the red
handkerchief. It whispered past the brothers who appreciated plum blossoms on snowy plains and
along the currents of the river.

The fates of countless people are intertwined, fragments left by relatives and close friends,
following like a shadow. The crabapple tree in front of the Heaven-Piercing Tower blossomed
brilliantly, overseeing the peace after a period of misery. Xue Meng raised his head to look at the
towering pagoda, and laughed as he took his apprentice to Loyalty Hall.

THE END

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