Scenes from the past flashed vividly before his eyes as rage twisted Mu Hanyang’s face, his humiliation as a clown mixing with a jealousy so fierce it burned his chest.
But Long Yin, as usual, only added fuel to the fire, sneering as he looked his way. Mu Hanyang snapped, unable to endure it any longer, and blurted at Feng Qingyun: “I should never have…! If I hadn’t personally delivered you into this man’s hands, you never would have…”
From beginning to end, he had always treated Feng Qingyun as a possession, never once acknowledging that everything, all of it, had been Feng Qingyun’s own choice.
And just as he had never truly seen Feng Qingyun as an independent person, he too cut him off coldly: “You think far too highly of yourself.”
In the end, Feng Qingyun didn’t even bother to waste more words. With a flash of swordlight, the Linshuang Sword unsheathed itself, thrusting straight for Mu Hanyang!
Mu Hanyang’s face darkened with fury as he yanked their Master’s sword from the ruins at his feet and swung up to block the blow. But the moment the swords met, a surge of full, unrestrained power slammed right into him. His expression shifted violently, and blood spurted from his lips. In that instant, the realization struck him.
Feng Qingyun truly intended to kill him!
“Qingyun, you!” Mu Hanyang stared in disbelief. “Have you forgotten who it was that raised you?!”
Those were words that he should have never spoken, and they weren’t even fully out of his mouth before Long Yin’s rage exploded. With a snarl, the Demon Lord also attacked, as a torrent of demonic Qi, wrapped in oppressive saber force, came crashing down. Mu Hanyang had no room to dodge as that inhumane power cleaved into his back with a spray of blood.
In his vision, the world went black around the edges. Mu Hanyang dropped to his knees, propping himself on the Wangyue Sword, blood dripping from his lips.
“A shameless hypocrite,” Long Yin said lightly, turning the demonic Qi in his hand as though it weighed nothing. “And yet you dare to invoke the past?”
Without that spiritual pearl, Mu Hanyang could never hope to rival the two of them. Still, a lifetime of smooth sailing had left him incapable of believing he might truly die here.
Pulling his lips into a bloody grin, he spat out bitterly: “Qingyun, would you rather waste your life at the side of such a shameless coward, one who wins only by outnumbering his foes?!”
However, Feng Qingyun ignored him, not even blinking. His lashes did not flicker as he reversed his sword into a blazing strike, one that Mu Hanyang knew too well: White Feathers, Falling Stars.
Mu Hanyang’s pupils shrank. Supporting his broken body, he leapt back in desperation, flinging a talisman from his storage ring. The air detonated like a storm as bolts of lightning crackled and split the strike apart, barely sparing him from the killing edge. Yet his face paled further, for White Feathers, Falling Stars, was one Feng Qingyun had comprehended as a child. And the one who had given it that name… was Mu Hanyang himself.
Originally, the phrase described an archery technique, but young Feng Qingyun had always favored swift swordplay. His form was light as a crane, sleeves billowing like white feathers, each strike a flash of starlight. Mu Hanyang had named the move himself, proud of his disciple’s genius.
And now, after a hundred years, Feng Qingyun wielded that same technique to take his life. How could Mu Hanyang not be driven mad with rage?!
Long Yin smirked from the side: “If two against one makes me a coward, then what about you? The day the Second Palace Master and this Lord left, you were ready to summon the entire Righteous Path to keep him. What does that make you?”
“A hypocritical wretch? Or a beast in borrowed robes?”
Shame and fury twisted Mu Hanyang’s face as old hatreds and fresh humiliations boiled together. With a roar, he wrenched out his own sword from his back, and, dual blades in hand, he hurled himself at Long Yin.
But the Demon Emperor only snorted coldly. As though slapping aside an insect, he raised his hand and slashed lazily. The blade-light that followed roared like a tidal wave, with demonic Qi smearing even the heavens above.
That one strike was enough to show the true, unmatched strength of the supreme ruler of the Demonic Path.
The wave of saber Qi reached Mu Hanyang in a blink.
There were times when one needed only a glance to know the outcome of a clash. And the moment Mu Hanyang saw it rushing toward him, he already knew he could not withstand it.
Terror surged. In a desperate gamble, he crossed both blades before him, trying to block head-on as steel clashed. The Wangyue Sword held, but his own sword shrieked and shattered, splintering into useless fragments!
The destruction of his life-bound weapon rebounded instantly as Mu Hanyang’s face went white. A tearing pain ripped through his Dantian as though it had been ground to pieces. By the time he caught his breath, his cultivation had plummeted once more: from the Foundation-Building stage, he still stubbornly held on, straight to the later stages of Qi Condensation!
Mu Hanyang’s furious expression twisted into sheer horror.
“The title of Lord Mu,” Long Yin sneered as demonic Qi howled around him. “And you think you deserve it?”
But before Mu Hanyang could even react, Feng Qingyun’s Linshuang Sword pierced forth again. The sword bit into his shoulder, forcing their Master’s sword from his hand. Teeth gritted, he reached desperately to snatch it back, only for Feng Qingyun to strike down upon it at the same time.
In that instant, the sword itself blazed with a burst of white light. The radiance surged, forcing the three apart and swallowing the entire space in an instant.
“?!”
The world froze, then shifted. When Feng Qingyun lifted his gaze again, the shattered ruins around him were gone.
And so was Long Yin.
Feng Qingyun tightened his grip on his sword, turning sharply, only to see a faint figure drifting in the void not far away.
It was a woman.
Not a living one, but the translucent image of Sword Master Zhong Yulan, clad in a robe embroidered with moonlit patterns and holding the Wangyue Sword in her hand.
She was not especially beautiful, but to one who had long since stepped into that realm of cultivation, appearance mattered little. Under the vast aura of a grandmaster, such things lost all meaning.
But when her eyes fell upon her disciple, the overwhelming pressure melted into a gentle warmth.
“Qingyun.”
Zhong Yulan studied him, a ripple moving through her gaze. However, her voice betrayed the emotion she could not hide, as she continued: “You have suffered.”
At those words, Feng Qingyun’s nose stung, his throat tightening. Looking at that half-transparent form, he could not hide the grief in his voice as he whispered: “Master… You really are…”
“Life and death are merely parts of the immortal path,” Zhong Yulan soothed him. “Reincarnation is but another road of cultivation. To see you again at all is already Heaven’s blessing. Do not grieve for me.”
Though his heart ached, Feng Qingyun was at least comforted to see that his Master’s soul remained whole, without a trace of fragmentation.
Gathering himself from sorrow, he suddenly remembered: “What about the other two?”
“You don’t truly mean both of them, right?” Zhong Yulan said with a faint smile, seeing through him at once. “You mean him. Rest assured, I only separated you for a moment to speak. I won’t do anything to your Dao companion.”
Dao companion.
Feng Qingyun’s cheeks flushed. Just a moment ago, he had been viciously brandishing his sword to kill someone, and now he felt awkward as he mumbled: “We haven’t yet held a Dao-companion ceremony…”
“You will soon enough,” Zhong Yulan replied softly. “Though I cannot attend in person, I still must congratulate you, Qingyun, for finding someone who truly loves you.”
Feng Qingyun’s blush deepened. He instinctively shifted the Linshuang Sword behind his back, yet his hand rubbed its hilt as he muttered: “I thought… just now, when you struck, it was because you didn’t want me to kill him.”
He did not name who “him” was, but both of them knew.
In truth, had it not been for what happened in their past life, had the indulgence and permissiveness of those years been unknown, then just by this life alone, Mu Hanyang still seemed that noble Lord Mu of bright virtue and lofty spirit. As for the blood deed he had forced upon Feng Qingyun, if told to the world, it could be brushed aside as a mere “family matter” of the Xiān Gōng Sect. To outsiders, it was hardly a crime deserving heavenly punishment.
If anything, Feng Qingyun would be seen as the one betraying his sect, harming his own brother. That was what the Righteous Path would say.
But Zhong Yulan shook her head. “The moment he bound you with a blood deed,” she answered, “he was no longer your Senior Brother. Nor was he my disciple.” She paused, then continued, voice low with guilt: “It was my failure as a teacher, my negligence in guidance, that brought you such suffering, Qingyun.”
Feng Qingyun’s throat tightened as he rushed to reply: “No… it has nothing to do with you, mother! You mustn’t blame yourself.”
“You may not hold me accountable,” Zhong Yulan said quietly, “but I cannot truly feel at peace. Still… now is not the time to take his life.”
She looked grave.
“My soul has been sealed here for ten thousand years. With this space breaking apart from your arrival, I will not last much longer. Let me speak quickly. Listen carefully.”
“…Ten thousand years?!” Feng Qingyun was stunned. “How… What have you been through all these years?!”
Zhong Yulan’s words grew concise, stripped to essentials, as she began to recount the truth she had glimpsed, the truth of the world itself.
“The Qilin is the sovereign of beasts, the legendary so-called Fifth Dimension beyond the Four Ancient Beasts. It was said to govern the power of time and space. The records say it perished in the great war of antiquity… yet no remains were ever found.”
“The year you first took human form, I had already reached the peak of my cultivation. However, I was stuck at a bottleneck, unable to move up or ascend, and so I sought out the Qilin.”
“Since it was said to wield power over time and space, if it still lived, perhaps there was hope of ascension.”
Feng Qingyun’s heart raced, the answer rising unbidden in his throat: “And in the end, did you find it?”
“I did.” Zhong Yulan’s expression, however, was solemn instead of joyful. “But what I found was not a living Qilin. It was its heart, drifting in a rift of time and space, and its horn.”
“I heard its final words within that rift. It asked that its heart be forged into a sword, to be given to one fated. In return, it gifted me its horn and the knowledge to wield it.”
“And the one it chose, Qingyun, was you.”
Feng Qingyun’s throat tightened. He lowered his gaze to the Linshuang Sword in his hand, asking: “The Qilin’s heart… is within this sword?”
“Correct.” Zhong Yulan nodded. “But at the time, I knew nothing. After giving the sword to you, I believed I had fulfilled its last wish. I then took the horn, the reward it left me, and set out upon the one-way journey it had spoken of, through the broken void.”
“And thus, I glimpsed the truth of antiquity.”
She described stepping into the rift, horn in hand, sword at her side, striding resolutely into the unknown. And amid the chaos of space and time, she saw the looming collapse of the heavens and secrets buried in the ancient past.
She saw countless immortals descending upon this land, but in that ancient war, the number of Golden Core experts alone surpassed even the immortals. And yet, the immortals still held the upper hand. However, in the blood-soaked battle, they seemed vaguely afraid of something.
“Afraid?” Feng Qingyun’s brow furrowed. In his mind, the image of that black-clad cultivator they encountered in Xuanwu’s ruins rose to mind.
“Were they afraid of something? Or… someone?”
“I don’t know what the immortals feared.” Zhong Yulan shook her head. “I only know this: in the end, they won the war and achieved their true aim.”
“They dismembered the Heavenly Dao of this world.”
At her words, even the space itself seemed to fall silent.
Feng Qingyun gripped his sword, mind blank for an instant.
“Dismembered… the Heavenly Dao?”
“Yes.” Zhong Yulan’s eyes darkened. “They said every world begins in chaos, in the cycle of being and non-being. Then, the Dao and the Four Ancient Beasts are born.”
“If the Dao were to be treated as a person, the Four Ancient Beasts would be their limbs. The clear Qi rising to form the heavens would be their head, and the turbid Qi sinking to form the earth, their body.”
“But only worlds that could bear a Qilin, that is, the Heavenly Dao’s heart, could birth true spiritual energy. Only such worlds allowed their beings the chance to ascend.”
Feng Qingyun recalled the slain Qilin, and the truth strung together like beads on a cord. “So that is why… they risked total destruction to kill the Xuanwu.”
“Exactly.” Zhong Yulan nodded. “The Xuanwu was buried in the Demon World. The Qinglong sank into the Southern Sea. All Four Ancient Beasts perished. Finally, the Qilin, too, did not escape. And then came the collapse of Heaven itself.”
“For a man, it would be as if his limbs were severed one by one, his heart torn out, his head cut off…”
“Thankfully, the Heavenly Dao is not human. Otherwise, had it endured such calamity… neither man nor beast could have survived.”
Feng Qingyun’s chest ached at his Master’s words. After a long silence, he asked: “Then… why would those immortals from beyond go to such lengths for this small world…”
“They were not all outsiders,” Zhong Yulan said grimly. “Many among them were our own, cultivators who had ascended from this world. They knew its secrets best.”
“They betrayed the world that bore them. They betrayed their own Heavenly Dao.”
Feng Qingyun’s breath caught, and his voice shook, asking: “Why would they?! Why sever the path of those to come?! Why betray their own world?!”
“At first, I too could not comprehend it,” Zhong Yulan said. “Even after glimpsing those visions, even after returning to the beginning point in the rift, I still did not understand.”
“But there was no way back. So I clutched the Qilin’s horn and broke the void to reach a neighboring great world. It was there that I found the answer.”
“That world was called Bibo. As its name suggests, half its lands were covered by ocean, with cities and cultivators living beneath the sea.”
Though their language and cultivation differed, Zhong Yulan was welcomed, for her cultivation stood beyond the Golden Core stage. But once she mastered their tongue, she discovered the fatal truth.
Aside from herself, that vast world had no more than four Golden Core cultivators. Even at its peak across tens of thousands of years, it had never had more.
The realization struck like lightning. With further inquiries, she confirmed the same across other worlds. Most great worlds had five or fewer. Medium worlds, one or two. A small world might boast a single Golden Core cultivator in a period, and that alone was cause for envy.
Upon hearing her words, even Feng Qingyun’s expression changed. From what Su Yunzhou could recall, those immortals called their realm a “small world.” Yet this so-called small world had, during the ancient war, produced enough Golden Core cultivators to contend with immortals!
And in the few millennia since, despite countless techniques lost, there were still nine more who managed to arise. And counting Zhong Yulan, they were already ten! Even when not counting the already fallen Mu Hanyang, Feng Qingyun himself was on the brink of leveling up!
That number already surpassed even the sum of many great worlds across tens of thousands of years!
But Feng Qingyun had never thought it strange. He had grown up here, where such strength seemed natural. However, hearing it now, his face went pale.
A few might be chance. But ten from one single small world?! Who would not be suspicious?!
“Exactly.” Zhong Yulan nodded gravely. “That is the problem. A small world with such hidden potential could only invite disaster. For instance, among the heavenly-nine-tailed fox clan alone, there were more than ten Golden Core experts.”
“And so, they were the first to be exterminated.”
“It was only after arriving in that world that I finally understood why those who had gained every advantage here, upon ascending, would turn around and sever the path for all who came after. According to them, the ranks of immortals may be limitless, but the seats of divinity are finite. Only those of true power and capability can attain godhood. And once one’s state of mind falters, another will simply take their place.”
“For that reason, those immortals whose hearts were already unstable naturally turned their schemes upon this world. That is also why their victory came at such a terrible cost.”
“Of course, part of it was because this world’s Golden Core cultivators were indeed strong during antiquity. But more than that, the ones sent down here were often the weakest of the immortals to begin with.”
“Yet not all of those who ascended from this world were the same…” Zhong Yulan sighed. “The previous Demon Emperor, once Dao companion of the Patriarch of the heavenly-nine-tailed fox clan, had already achieved godhood. Upon hearing the rumors, he abandoned it without hesitation, determined to descend even at the cost of perishing, to stop those immortals. But outnumbered, he fell with his partner somewhere in the Northern Sea.”
“We lost,” Zhong Yulan’s tone shifted. “But the immortals’ victory was no triumph either. They died in droves, many crippled, some barely strong enough to return to their upper realms. Those who escaped sealed this world off completely, even sacrificing themselves to sever its path of ascension.”
“But the dying, the broken, all those immortals who could not return, they were left behind, along with us. However, even those who returned were not at peace. For though the Qilin perished, its heart remained missing.”
“They could not find it. And so, as their final measure, they sealed this entire world. By chance, I was the one who obtained the Qilin’s heart. And now, it rests within your sword.”
Zhong Yulan paused, then said softly: “Qingyun… the heart of the Heavenly Dao has chosen you.”
Whether all beings of this world can break their shackles rests upon a single thought of yours.
Feng Qingyun trembled, realization dawning. After a long silence, he murmured: “The Heavenly Dao has fifty paths, but the sky only shows forty-nine… So that’s what Long Yin meant back then. The Dao of this world may appear destroyed, but there still remains a sliver of hope.”
Zhong Yulan nodded gently. “Yes.”
“That sliver…” Feng Qingyun’s voice grew rough, as if he already guessed, “What is it?”
“The Qilin’s last words: the one chosen by its heart must be pure as a child, closest to the Heavenly Dao, and beloved by it. Such a person must gather the hearts of the Four Ancient Beasts. Then, offering their own body as a sacrifice, merge the five into the Dao. Only then can the heavens be mended, and the immortal path restored.”
Feng Qingyun’s heart lurched. His grip on the Linshuang Sword wavered, dazed.
He understood.
To merge with the Heavenly Dao meant to die for the world.
That strange, fated sense wrapped around him once more.
In the illusory world, he had once carried a silver hairpin in a wedding palaquin, ascending the mountain beneath the kneeling of ten thousand, offered as sacrifice to the dragon God.
In reality, the fallen Heavenly Dao now demanded he cradle the hearts of the Four Ancient Beasts, and with his life, restore Heaven itself.
Zhong Yulan’s eyes did not waver as she looked upon him, heart heavy with sorrow.
“This path is perilous beyond compare. It demands sacrifice for the world. But remember, you must not reveal yourself. Qingyun… as your teacher, I cannot bear for you to walk it.”
“I… I am willing. Someone must make the sacrifice.” Feng Qingyun’s voice rasped, his mind reeling. Without thinking, he blurted the most foolish question: “Only… why must I not reveal myself?”
Even as the words left his lips, he knew the answer.
“Because not all the immortals perished,” Zhong Yulan explained. “Some yet hide in this world.”
“I do not know what they seek. Perhaps they resent those who abandoned them here, sealing them along with this realm. Whatever their grudges, their true interests are the same. If they cannot find what they desire, they will see this world destroyed, erased entirely, so it can no longer threaten them.”
“They will never allow anyone to revive the Heavenly Dao. Which is why you must not be exposed.”
Feng Qingyun’s throat tightened as he asked: “But how can you be certain… that any survived?”
“Because it was such an immortal who killed me.” Zhong Yulan’s gaze chilled. “In the Bibo world, there were no shackles; its Heavenly Dao was still intact, so I was on the verge of ascension.”
“I had thought to ascend, seek Heaven’s secrets, then return. But those immortals followed me through the rift. Sensing my imminent ascension, they would rather self-destruct than let me succeed.”
“And with me, they destroyed an entire merfolk city!”
Feng Qingyun’s breath caught, eyes flying wide.
Zhong Yulan’s voice grew bitter, near to blood and tears: “They slaughtered all who knew I was alive! Not even the merfolk’s souls were spared!”
“I could only fold the entire city into a small world of my own. Even then, I saved no more than a single unhatched egg and fragments of a few souls.”
That egg bore such a blood feud upon its shell.
Feng Qingyun’s heart tightened with grief. “And those souls,” he asked, “do they remain in the city?”
“No.” Zhong Yulan shook her head. “The moment the ruins opened, they entered the Wheel of Reincarnation, born again into this world.”
“But I promised them…” her voice softened, “I swore to avenge them, to grant them rest.”
Feng Qingyun clenched his fists. After a long silence, he asked, “And then… how did you fall?”
“Outnumbered, wounded, my cultivation crippled, and my ascension hopeless. So I resolved that, no matter life or death, I would return the truth to this world.”
“In this world, immortals seem suppressed. Proof that our Heavenly Dao is not wholly gone, but merely dying.”
“I sought to lure them into the rift and slay them here. But on the return, an old wound broke open. One carried a strange pearl that veiled his presence, and I was careless. He struck me down.”
“At the last moment, the merfolk’s souls wove their obsession into a fabric beyond mortal craft, an artifact at the rank of a true immortal weapon. With it, and the Qilin’s horn, my soul was dragged back here.”
“Mother…” Feng Qingyun’s heart jolted as he lifted his gaze suddenly. “This immortal you speak of, was he clad in red, with a youthful, delicate face, looking scarcely past twenty?”
Zhong Yulan’s expression shifted. “You saw him?!”
“…He entered the ruins with Mu Hanyang.” Feng Qingyun’s face darkened. “Mu Hanyang carries a pearl that hides his aura. Not even I nor Long Yin can pierce it. He must have gotten it from that man.”
Zhong Yulan’s gaze flickered for a second, but then stilled. “Good. Then his wounds remain unhealed. Otherwise, he would not skulk about in shadows. Since he follows Mu Hanyang… all the better. It suits my plan.”
“Your plan…?” Feng Qingyun’s heart sank as he asked.
“When the Heavenly Dao is restored, not only will the outside immortals descend again, but those still hiding here will also see the signs. They will suspect you.”
“To protect you, there must be another, a lure to draw their gaze, to shield your steps.”
“You mean… Senior Brother?”
“He is no longer your Senior Brother.” Zhong Yulan’s tone was calm. “The day I lit that fire, our bond as master and disciple was severed.”
That fire?!
Feng Qingyun’s eyes widened, realization crashing down.
In the illusory world, Mu Hanyang had been bound upon the execution platform as a sacrifice to appease Heaven’s wrath. And the first spark at the base of that pyre… had been lit by the mourning Widow Li, that is, his Master herself.
A shiver coursed through him.
“I will give him my sword and tell him another tale, one that convinces him he was the one chosen by the Qilin. I know you wish to kill him, to cut the root. But only if he walks in the light while you remain hidden can the mending of Heaven succeed.”
Mu Hanyang was to become bait. Set loose as prey for the hidden immortals.
Feng Qingyun’s thoughts lurched. He recalled how, in his past life, Heaven’s collapse came without warning. Perhaps the Underworld and the rest of the Golden Core cultivators who vanished in silence had fallen to those immortals’ hands.
And when he died, in that void-like state, he had seen Mu Hanyang… and beside him stood that seemingly innocent Lian Ziqing.
So… Did Mu Hanyang truly die because of Heaven’s collapse? Or was he slain by the one he considered a friend, falling under Lian Ziqing’s blade?
No one could say.
But at that moment, hearing Zhong Yulan’s plan of light and shadow, Feng Qingyun couldn’t help but point out a flaw once he gathered his thoughts: “With the Linshuang Sword in my hand, why would Mu Hanyang ever believe that he was the one chosen by the Qilin?”
“I will tell him that the true heart of the Qilin lies within my sword,” Zhong Yulan replied. “Crafting Linshuang was meant only as misdirection, to fool the immortals’ eyes and ears.”
Feng Qingyun still hesitated, continuing: “But with Mu Hanyang’s temperament… he may not truly be willing to sacrifice himself for the world. He might not believe such a tale.”
For Mu Hanyang, disbelief would not take the form of outright refusal, since that would shatter his carefully cultivated image of grace and magnanimity. Only if he could cloak his rejection behind a reasonable doubt of the story’s authenticity would he be willing to embrace it.
And both Feng Qingyun and Zhong Yulan understood this.
Yet Zhong Yulan shook her head, resolute. “He will believe. Because I will also tell him…”
“That he is the incarnation of the Heavenly Dao, stripped of memory when on the brink of death.”
Feng Qingyun froze, lifting his gaze in disbelief. “What… did you say?!”
Zhong Yulan’s eyes did not waver. “Since the Dao was torn apart before it fell into decline, with Heaven as its head, Earth as its body, and the Qilin as its heart, why could it not also have taken human form?”
Feng Qingyun was dumbstruck by his Master’s ability to weave such a story. When he recovered, he blurted, “How could Mu Hanyang ever…”
But mid-sentence, he stiffened, and realization struck.
Yes. Mu Hanyang would believe it.
With his nature, his arrogance, his self-image as Heaven’s favored child, groomed for years as such, now reduced to a beaten mutt… his cultivation shattered, his life’s sword destroyed… upon hearing he was the very incarnation of the Dao itself, how could he not believe?
Not only would he believe, but he would also rejoice in it! He would swallow the humiliation, hide in the shadows, and begin the search for the Four Ancient Beasts’ hearts.
But after that brief period of endurance, Mu Hanyang would inevitably be unable to resist boasting of it, this “truth,” that he was Heaven incarnate.
For in his eyes, reputation and the world’s reverence mattered more than anything.
Feng Qingyun fell silent.
The greater the hope, the crueler the fall. At that thought, he felt an unexpected twinge of pity, for the day Mu Hanyang discovered the truth would be the day he would plummet from the heights of glory into ruin.
That is, if he even lived to see that day.
More likely, the moment he let slip his “secret,” the immortals hidden in the shadows would descend, tearing him apart as they once dismembered the true Dao.
The role suited Mu Hanyang too well. So well that Feng Qingyun found himself asking quietly:
“…Mother, had you planned from the beginning to use him as bait?”
“No,” Zhong Yulan paused. “My original choice was not Mu Hanyang. The story of Heaven’s incarnation was always a flimsy excuse, hardly enough to fool the immortals. But with his pride, his vanity, his craving for recognition, it may yet serve. If he spreads it often enough, others will believe. After all, three voices make a tiger1.”
“But the true best candidate should have been one who followed the Ruthless Path, for that is the path closest to the Dao itself.” Reaching this point, Zhong Yulan’s voice shifted as she continued: “My intended choice was actually…”
Feng Qingyun’s face changed, words tumbling out before he could stop them: “No!”
Zhong Yulan fell silent, staring at him with faint amusement.
It was only then that Feng Qingyun realized it had only been a hypothesis. But his own flustered denial had given him away, and his face burned crimson.
“…The intended choice was Long Yin. But his Ruthless Path was already broken, and so he is no longer suitable. I hadn’t even finished speaking. Why so anxious?” Zhong Yulan’s lips curved faintly. “Do you love that dragon so much?”
Feng Qingyun’s face flamed hotter. He stammered, unable to form a proper retort.
“But if you truly love him that much…” Zhong Yulan grew serious. “Qingyun, would you truly be willing?”
Am I truly willing?
The thought struck him like thunder, snapping him back to himself, as the question he had evaded all along now left him no escape. Sword in hand with his face blank, he could no longer avoid the truth.
He held the Qilin’s heart.
Either he sacrificed himself for the world, or the world perished.
But what of his dragon?
If he died, what would become of Long Yin?
His thoughts clouded, unable to find the answer. Then, unbidden, another memory surfaced: in his previous life, when Long Yin had faced a similar choice… what had he chosen?
If Long Yin hadn’t chosen death, perhaps Feng Qingyun would have never been reborn. But that was still his Long Yin, the one who had crossed a thousand mountains just to see him again.
So, had Long Yin hesitated then?
Feng Qingyun did not know. He only knew that in the end, Long Yin had chosen death without looking back.
In his past life, when the heavens collapsed, he had faced it without fear, without doubt, calm as though life and death were one.
But now… now his heart whispered: Why me?
Why must I be the one to die for the world?
And yet, if he did not, what would become of all beings?
What will become of Long Yin?
The Heavenly Dao favoured no one, and all beings must save themselves. And yet, someone must give more than the rest. After all, cultivation in itself was rebellion against Heaven. Those with great power bore greater burdens than beasts or mortals.
And their predecessors had already paved the road with their blood: the previous Demon Emperor and his fox Dao companion, Su Yunzhou, and Mi Zhiyun… All of them…
One after another.
Should it all be wasted here, for the sake of love and selfishness?
He had promised Su Yunzhou and Mi Zhiyun that he would find the path to ascension and fulfill the thousand-year longing of those who perished beneath Heaven’s collapse.
“…I am willing.” Feng Qingyun drew in a deep breath, his voice firm. “Please believe me, mother. I will not fail your trust.”
Zhong Yulan’s heart swelled with sorrow and pride, but she could not help but ask: “Will you tell your dragon?”
Feng Qingyun’s chest tightened. A tiny voice whispered: If Long Yin knew, he would be furious. More furious than ever before.
That night’s rage would be nothing compared to this. Who knew what madness it might drive him to?
If Feng Qingyun told him beforehand, perhaps he would not rage quite so wildly. Perhaps he would only suffer quietly until the moment he left, and then that sorrow would rise like a sea, accompanying him through ascension.
No… not ascension.
Feng Qingyun knew him too well. If he truly gave himself to the Heavenly Dao, Long Yin would never ascend alone. He would remain, bound to this world, until decline consumed him and death claimed him.
Zhong Yulan watched as her disciple’s face drained of color, his thoughts written plain across his features.
At last, Feng Qingyun said with iron resolve: “No. I will not tell him. And I ask, mother, please keep this secret. Until…”
“Until my final breath.”
He would guard this truth until death.
And if it were ever exposed, if Long Yin’s wrath had to be faced…
No.
Feng Qingyun recoiled from the thought, denying it in his heart.
It must never be exposed.
T.N: Worry not, there’s no tragedy tag to this novel, but there are already some painfully obvious things, at least for me :)) but no spoilers, so yeah :))
- Chinese saying, meaning: It’s enough for three people to say they saw a tiger, for the tiger to become reality. ↩︎
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