Thunder rolled in the distance.
Yu Zhanfeng knelt at the foremost edge of a deadly precipice atop a lonely mountain in Ruixi. His fiery red robe spread upon the mossy wet stone. His hair moved in the rushing winds.
A strange mist of black and grey drifted in the surroundings, coiling slowly around the peak like a living shadow. The chill that bled from it was enough to freeze bones.
Yu Zhanfeng felt dizzy. He slowly raised his palm and felt the soft patter of drizzle against his skin. It felt like the sting of needles. His lashes trembled slightly.
He bowed low, pressing his forehead against the cold stone.
"This disciple greets Shizun upon returning from seclusion."
Apart from the noise of wind, a ghost hawk cried far away. Then Xi Chenming's deep voice rolled through the lonely peaks.
"The air of Ruixi has grown thin, Zhanfeng. Or is it that you have grown too accustomed to the scent of your own petty ambitions?"
"This disciple did not dare to make a move during Shizun's absence," Yu Zhanfeng said respectfully.
"And yet you sent a dragon to destroy Yunshan?"
"... …" Yu Zhanfeng pressed his thin lips. "Forgive me, Shizun. It was my fault that I wanted to know why I'm still inferior to Mingxuan."
"So you recklessly sent Heiyan?"
"Yes…"
The grey mist deepened, casting smoke like shadows across the peaks. "Mingxuan is not your match. You should not provoke him."
Yu Zhanfeng raised his eyes to the drifting grey mist. "I'm his three thousand years senior. He's just a thirty two years old mortal."
The mist thickened. When Xi Chenming spoke again, his voice was colder than the stone beneath Yu Zhanfeng's knees.
"And yet three thousand years did not prepare you to measure him. Age tells you how long someone has walked the path. It tells you nothing about where the path leads."
Yu Zhanfeng said nothing.
"Mingxuan's power does not follow what you and I understand. Its source is something I have not yet traced to its root. Until I do, seniority is a meaningless comfort."
Yu Zhanfeng lifted his gaze briefly. "Then Shizun is more incredible than any living being this disciple has ever witnessed. None of them can come close to Shizun."
A hollow, chilling laugh answered, the deep voice resonating against the empty mountains like tides through caverns. "Cannot?"
The sky grew grey and gloomy. The air grew heavy.
"In my battle with him at Duanhun Pass, I was gravely wounded. It took twelve years for me to recover at Nanhai. And you say he cannot?"
Yu Zhanfeng fell silent.
Xi Chenming spoke. "Among all living beings, if there are still people who could stand in front of me and challenge me to fight them, there are only three. Mingxuan is one of them. So you should not provoke him."
Yu Zhanfeng did not speak. The drizzle fell between them, cold and indifferent. He had observed grief in others. He had observed rage, and pride, and the bitter stillness of a man swallowing defeat.
But this feeling now, this hollow pressure in his chest, he had no name for it yet.
He lowered his head. "During Shizun's absence, this disciple did everything he could to capture Xiangge and trace Shengzhu. But nothing succeeded. This useless disciple's ten years of scheming collapsed in a single night."
"I will not fault you. Even I did not leave Duanhun Pass whole. Remember only one thing: Xiangge must not die."
Silence stretched across the peaks like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath.
"Not yet."
"This disciple will keep it in his mind. What are Shizun's plans for now?"
"I never noticed it before. Mingxuan's source of power is strange, something I have yet to trace to its root. I will make it clear before I return. In terms of military strength alone, Yunshan is impenetrable. Fighting Mingxuan is no longer an option."
"Shizun, how should we proceed?"
"I want you to go to Yunshan in disguise. I will conceal your demonic aura. Befriend this child, Xiangge, and earn his trust."
"Trust?" Yu Zhanfeng repeated. His face was expressionless.
"Yunshan is guarded in every possible way. If you undertake this journey, much of it you will have to learn on your own. You must learn how to interact with mortals."
"The heart of a mortal is complex. Shizun, this disciple does not understand."
"You were born without the seven emotions and six desires. Yet you observed others and learned how to imitate a smile. You learned how to hate, how to feel anger."
"But that was only because Shizun asked this disciple to learn. Deep within, this disciple feels nothing."
"Then why are you my only disciple?"
"Because Shizun took me in and raised me. This disciple owes his life to Shizun."
"In this boundless world, countless cultivators tread this path, yearning to cast aside emotions and desires. Yet you are different. You were naturally born without them. Therefore, learn. Learn to imitate the human heart. That shall be your redemption."
The mist slowly began to dissipate. At last, the morning sunlight filtered through, illuminating the once gray and oppressive gloom.
Yu Zhanfeng bent forward and bowed deeply, his forehead pressed against the cold floor.
"Shizun's wish is this disciple's command."
***
When Xiangge opened his eyes, it was already evening. Rain lashed outside the window, cold drops moistening the bamboo framed sill.
Water dripped down the twigs heavy with Dujuan blossoms and far away, the sight of tall peaks were misty.
The fresh scent of wet soil lingered in the air, mixed with a familiar fragrance.
Xiangge's head throbbed. His sight was hazy. Sweat beads drooped down his temples despite the cold weather.
Ever since last year, he had been waking up from nightmares. He sat on the bed, leaning his back onto the bed rest. As his head slowly cleared, he was stunned.
A shudder sank down his back. How dare he sleep!
After stabbing Mingxuan with that poisoned dagger, Xiangge hadn't even looked at the bed. Every single moment of the day was used by him to create the antidote.
These two days, his attempts had been in complete failure. If it had not been for the pills he had been refining for Mingxuan using his own blood, Mingxuan would have been already dead.
It was true these pills could prolong a dying life for several hours. But it could not detoxify Jinghuo. It can only temporarily suppress it.
So Xiangge's only choice was to feed Mingxuan with them until the antidote was done. The only question Xiangge feared was, how long will even these pills hold?
He exhaled, pinching between the brows. No matter what, he ought to make the antidote soon. He was tired. But he was too afraid to slack off.
Did he work too hard the night before so that he was weary?
His head buzzed. He seemed to have forgotten something. He could not remember what he did the night before.
He sat on the bed, massaging his sore nape and looked around at the room. Under the dim light that stole through the window, his eyes widened.
His usually messed up chamber was very clean and neat.
Even Rumeng had to scratch his boots several times before he could cross the room from one end to the other. The floor was always stacked with broken porcelain, knives, daggers, blades, and many other equipment he normally used in pill refining.
But who cleaned his room?
The more he tried to think, the more his head ached. At this moment, he felt a slight fluctuation of spiritual energy. He tilted his head towards the window.
Rumeng was sitting on the broad window sill, one leg carelessly stretched over the wet bamboo frame while the other was folded closer to his chest.
His black uniform was half drenched. He pulled his long hair from the back and wrung water out of it. Then he supported his elbow with the folded knee, tilted his head slightly and smiled. "Good evening!"
Xiangge pursed his lips. Rumeng wasn't there when he woke up. When did he come?
Xiangge did not know. He even didn't feel the presence of a second person inside Yumeng Peak until now.
Maybe these few days, he had been using too much blood, causing his cultivation to drain.
Just as he was to get off the bed, he stepped onto something soft. A piece of white cloth?
He froze, his scalp exploding. His heart burned. He swiftly pushed it under the bed with his foot.
Rumeng wasn't watching. But his smile broadened. "I came here to ask you. Is there anything else you want me to find for the antidote?"
"If there are, I'll summon you."
"Okay. How's the progress?"
"Yesterday's one hundred thirty seventh attempt failed."
Rumeng was silent for a while. He picked up a Dujuan petal that fell onto his palm and smelled it. His bright eyes dimmed. When he looked back at Xiangge, there was something deeper to his eyes. Something that Xiangge did not understand.
"Don't tire yourself. You are no use to anyone half dead."
Xiangge's voice was hoarse. "What do you mean?"
Rumeng didn't speak. He crushed the Dujuan petal in his fingertips. Drizzle fell on it and trailed down his pale wrist in crimson lines.
He glanced at the faraway peaks covered with waterfalls and mist, his ears perking slightly. "Oh, Junshang's summoning me. I'm leaving."
He leapt down the window and disappeared into the drizzle.
Xiangge didn't move for a moment. Then he hurried back to the bed and pulled out the handkerchief.
He stared at the soft piece of cloth, embroidered with silvery silken threads, like a dragon... His fingertips trembled.
This was Mingxuan's.