Chapter 38

Time rewound to nearly a hundred years ago.

On the day the city fell, Chai Shuxin grabbed Mu Gesheng at a critical moment. However, he had never served in the military and was nowhere near as familiar with the battlefield as the other man.

Mu Gesheng turned around, grabbed him in return, and pulled him into his arms.

In the next instant, shattered rocks rained down from above, crashing onto their bodies. A wave of excruciating pain swept through them, and Chai Shuxin immediately lost consciousness.

He had no idea how much time had passed before he was awakened by the rain.

The air was thick with the stench of blood. He was lying face-down in the dirt, his head pointed downward. Every bone in his body felt as though it had been dislocated. He briefly checked his own pulse. Most of his injuries were impact injuries from falling from a great height. He could still be saved.

What about Mu Gesheng?

Chai Shuxin tried to get to his feet, only to discover that he was pinned beneath a pile of rubble. The weight pressing down on him felt as heavy as a thousand jun.

He needed to find a way out.

Chai Shuxin struggled desperately to crawl free. As the rubble shifted and rolled away, a hand suddenly brushed past his ear.

In that instant, the sound of rain beside his ears stopped.

Only then did Chai Shuxin realize that most of the blood filling the air around him wasn’t his own.

Someone was lying on top of his back.

During the fall, Mu Gesheng had pulled him close and shielded him from most of the impact of the falling rubble.

Chai Shuxin had no idea how he managed to crawl out from beneath the pile of stones. By the time he came back to his senses, he had already dug through an entire stretch of ruins.

Blood. Blood was everywhere.

The sand and rocks were covered in clotted blood, which was now being washed away by the rain. At the center of the bloodstains lay a person. His limbs were twisted, and his body was so mangled that it was almost impossible to recognize its original shape.

Under ordinary circumstances, no one would ever have imagined that this ruined body belonged to the spirited young man who had once carried himself so proudly. But that face told him beyond any doubt—

This person was Mu Gesheng.

Chai Shuxin’s hands were trembling.

He clenched his teeth tightly, but he was still shaking so badly that he couldn’t even hold Mu Gesheng’s wrist steady. Blood blurred his vision. Finally, he tore open the other man’s blood-soaked military uniform and collapsed over the mangled flesh riddled with wounds.

He couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

The torrential rain poured down, yet everything beside his ears was utterly silent.

By the time Wu Nie arrived, only a pool of blood remained at the scene.

She dipped a finger into the blood diluted by the rain and put it into her mouth.

“Damn it. This is Tian Suan Zi’s blood.”

Something was wrong with the taste of the blood. She forcibly suppressed the unease rising in her heart. The blood contained Chai Shuxin’s scent, and there was still a trace of the living about it. At least one of the two was still alive—but where had they gone?

Two wisps of ghostly souls followed behind Wu Nie. She had forcibly snatched them from the road to reincarnation.

The ghosts were carrying a stretcher. Wu Zixu and Song Wentong lay on it, both severely injured and unconscious. They needed treatment as soon as possible, and the only person who could save them now was Chai Shuxin.

But where exactly had the two gone?

Wu Nie forcibly suppressed the unease in her heart.

Could Spirit Pivot Zi have died?

However, the other possibility was undoubtedly far more terrifying.

She had lived a long time, and there was nothing that could escape a pair of eyes that had witnessed nine hundred years of history. If the one who had died was Mu Gesheng, the consequences would be even more unthinkable.

There was no more time to waste.

Completely drenched by the rain, Wu Nie quickly considered all the places the two might have gone.

The Mu residence? The Chai residence? The Wu residence? Guanshan Yue? Ye Shui Zhu Hua?

None of them was right.

The enemy forces had already entered the city. Breaking in recklessly would be tantamount to suicide. Besides, almost everyone had long since evacuated the city. Going back would provide them with no supplies, and they wouldn’t even be able to find medicinal herbs.

Then where could they go?

They couldn’t enter the city…

Could it be the military camp in the suburbs?

No, that wasn’t right either. The military camp was undoubtedly one of the main targets of the enemy’s assault. Returning there would be equivalent to walking straight into a trap.

That left only one possibility.

“Damn it.” Wu Nie cursed. “In this kind of torrential rain, with such a long journey ahead, don’t you dare die on the road!”

Completely soaked, she hurriedly wiped the rain from her face, touched her toes to the ground, and sprinted away. The two wandering souls hurried after her.

She should have realized it sooner. There was only one place Chai Shuxin and Mu Gesheng could possibly go—

Baishui Temple.

The Ginkgo Study.

Just as Wu Nie had expected, the mountain road was covered in blood. The farther she walked, the more uneasy she became.

This amount of blood was far beyond what a single person could have lost. Clearly, a fierce battle had taken place nearby.

When she finally reached the entrance of Baishui Temple, Wu Nie kicked open the main gate.

Her pupils suddenly contracted.

Corpses were scattered everywhere. Broken walls and shattered buildings lay in ruins.

Blood was everywhere, an overwhelming sea of red. Outside the meditation rooms, beside the well, and across the bluestone pathways, the bodies of monks lay strewn about. Some had been killed with a single blow, while others had been dismembered and torn apart. One monk had been hung beneath the eaves, his body pierced by several knives, his eyes still open in death.

The ancient bell, which had been passed down for hundreds of years, had been smashed to pieces on the ground. Half of it remained, its broken opening battered by the rain as it rolled down the steps. Several dark objects tumbled out—

Human heads stripped of their skin.

The torrential rain poured down from the heavens. Blood gathered into streams, flowing through the grounds and winding its way in every direction.

It was nothing short of the Avici Hell.

Even the ghosts carrying the stretcher were so frightened that wisps of green smoke rose from their bodies. They were newly deceased spirits who had died bewildered in the chaos of war. They had never witnessed such a horrifying massacre.

Wu Nie stood outside the gate.

She was the Grand Tai Sui of Fengdu and had long since grown accustomed to life and death. Yet, as she gazed at the scene inside the temple, she remained motionless for a long time.

Perhaps I’ve really spent too long in Fengdu, she thought vaguely.

With souls coming and going all around her, she had almost forgotten what a corpse looked like.

When a person died, their body grew cold.

Colder than rainwater.

At least Fengdu still had the waters of the River of Forgetfulness, the Green Lotus Lanterns, and the countless performances at the Ghost Market. When had the human world begun to resemble the underworld more than Fengdu did?

Wu Nie felt an indescribable exhaustion, a deep chill rising from within her heart.

She really was getting old.

Wu Nie walked into the Ginkgo Study and found Chai Shuxin in the incense hall. Blood was everywhere in the room, but it wasn’t Mu Gesheng’s. A bloodied, mangled skeleton sat on a meditation cushion, its hands pressed together in prayer.

Sitting cross-legged—that was the posture of a monk entering nirvana.

In front of the body, eight characters had been written in blood:

To die in the right place; to return to one’s roots as the leaves fall.

Wu Nie recognized the handwriting. It belonged to the abbot of Baishui Temple.

She also recognized the method of death: being skinned and flayed alive.

After an unknown length of time, Chai Shuxin spoke, his voice hoarse.

“When a person who has cultivated diligently sits peacefully and passes away, it is called sitting in nirvana.”

“Never abandoning one’s homeland, facing death with composure.” Wu Nie fell silent for a moment before saying, “With their merits and virtues complete, they may enter the cycle of reincarnation under the Heavenly Dao.”

“…Good.” Chai Shuxin slowly nodded. “Then please, take a look and tell me which cycle of reincarnation he has entered.”

He had been facing away from the entrance to the incense hall. With the entire room awash in chaotic shades of blood, Wu Nie hadn’t noticed that he was holding someone in his arms.

It was Mu Gesheng.

But only his face was still recognizable. Rather than saying Chai Shuxin was holding a corpse, it would be more accurate to say he was holding a trembling mass of flesh and blood.

Chai Shuxin hadn’t even asked whether the person could still be saved. What he asked was which cycle of reincarnation Mu Gesheng had entered.

Wu Nie gritted her teeth and steeled herself. “You’re Spirit Pivot Zi. You should understand the rules of the Seven Schools. After the death of Tian Suan Zi, his soul scatters completely. He does not enter the cycle of reincarnation.”

“I know.” Chai Shuxin’s voice sounded as though it had been coughed up from the depths of his heart and blood. “…But to me, he is more than just Tian Suan Zi.”

His voice was quickly swallowed by the torrential rain.

Wu Nie’s heart pounded with alarm. The two severely wounded people behind her were still waiting to be treated. Her most urgent task was to keep the man in front of her calm.

“How about this? I’ll take you to Fengdu right now. Perhaps Tian Suan—no, that Mu boy’s soul hasn’t completely dissipated yet. You might still make it in time to see him one last time…”

Before she could finish, Chai Shuxin interrupted her.

“Great-grandfather.”

“I’m here. I’m listening.”

“Back then, after he returned from Fengdu, he told us that during the seven days he was unconscious, he had a dream. In the dream, paper money fell like snow, and he heard the sound of a sacrificial song.”

Wu Nie froze.

“The sacrificial songs of the Seven Schools originated in ancient times. The two oldest are Siming and Lihun. Lihun was passed down through the Yin-Yang School and can soothe the spirits of the dead. Siming was passed down through the Medicine School and can prolong the lives of living souls. With one governing life and the other death, the Seven Schools have controlled all matters of yin and yang ever since.”

Wu Nie naturally knew all this, and much more besides. Lihun was the sacrificial song sung by generations of Wuchang Zi after becoming the Clapper Bearer, when commanding the Yin Soldiers. It was also one of the Yin-Yang School’s greatest secret weapons.

Even the music of the General’s Nuo Dance that came later borrowed its melodies from it.

The Yin-Yang School governed death, while the Medicine School governed life. The Medicine School’s ability to bring the dead back to life and restore flesh to bare bones came not only from its unparalleled medical skills. Siming could even forcibly summon back departed souls, bringing the dead back to life.

Return, O soul!

Wu Nie stared at him in disbelief. “Back then, when that Mu boy encountered the Yin Soldiers in the Yin-Yang Ladder, he barely escaped with his life. In the end, you arrived and rescued him…”

“At that time, he was already beyond saving.” Chai Shuxin’s voice was hoarse. “I used Siming.”

“What he heard in that dream was actually my singing.”

“You’re insane!” Wu Nie exclaimed in horror. “No one in the Medicine School has used Siming for a hundred generations! And only the Clapper Bearer dares to use the Yin-Yang School’s sacrificial song! This is defying the heavens!”

“Defying the heavens?” Chai Shuxin shook his head, his hair disheveled. “Everything we’ve done has long since cast Heaven’s will aside.”

“You’re insane.” Wu Nie shook her head repeatedly, unable to believe it. “You can use Siming at most once. Since you already used it to save that Mu boy, there’s no way you can use it a second time.”

“There’s something you don’t know.” Chai Shuxin said, “Although Siming is a secret art, its underlying principle is actually very simple. It’s nothing more than exchanging one life for another.”

“Last time, I was greedy. I only exchanged half of my lifespan for his.”

“Looking at it now, it’s fortunate that I still have the other half.”

It was nothing more than exchanging one life for another.

Chai Shuxin set Mu Gesheng’s corpse down and knelt before Wu Nie.

“This junior has a request to make.”

Wu Nie no longer knew what to say. If she had previously thought she understood Chai Shuxin fairly well, then their conversation just now had completely overturned every impression she had of him. This seemingly steady and sensible junior possessed an almost imperceptible calmness and madness. Perhaps Mu Gesheng had been that seed buried for years. His sudden death had caused all the suppressed restraint and endurance deep within Chai Shuxin’s bones to erupt onto the surface.

Perhaps the two people in the room were not so different after all. One had a body riddled with wounds; the other had a heart bleeding profusely.

At this point, she abandoned the idea of trying to talk him out of it.

“Take care of those two people outside for me, and whatever you want to ask, I’ll agree to it.”

She could more or less guess what Chai Shuxin wanted to ask.

“Although my cultivation has been exhausted, and I don’t know how much longer I can live, I’ll protect him for as long as I’m alive.”

Chai Shuxin knelt on the ground and shook his head.

“What this junior wishes to ask of you is not that.”

“Siming is a secret art. Apart from exchanging one life for another, using it also consumes the user’s cultivation during the summoning process. This junior is not a cultivator. I only possess a little innate cultivation and merit by virtue of being one of the Seven Schools. That was already completely exhausted the last time I used it.”

Chai Shuxin bowed forward until his forehead touched the ground and said softly, “This junior dares to make a presumptuous request. I wish to ask you for a little of your cultivation to help me.”

Wu Nie froze.

They both knew exactly how much cultivation she had left.

They also both understood what it meant for him to ask to borrow it at a time like this.

Outside, the rain poured down in torrents. One stood while the other knelt, and they faced each other in silence.

After an unknown length of time, Wu Nie sighed, walked out of the incense hall, and washed the blood from her hands in the rain.