Chapter 55: This Venerable One Feels Uneasy

Zhuque might have been called the land of immortals, but its

residents were not, in fact, immortals. Rather, they were a people of mixed

blood, half-immortal and half-fae. In the cultivation world, they were the

beings that most resembled immortals and were known as the "feathered

tribe."

The feathered tribe had always resided at Peach Blossom Springs,

which lay beyond the maze of Mount Jiuhua. They rarely ever interfered in

the affairs of the mortal realm. However, as half the blood that flowed

through their veins was still mortal, they weren't fully detached. Thus they

often appeared in times of turmoil or disaster in the cultivation world and

used their immense power to help mortals through the crisis.

When Mo Ran had raised hell and turned the world upside down in his

last life, the feathered tribe had appeared in droves. In the end, their power

had been unable to overcome the emperor, who had already perfected a

forbidden technique. Mo Ran had hunted down and killed every last one of

them, treading across ground swathed with blood and scorched feathers.

Zhuque, the land of immortals, had been burned to the ground in a

single day.

It was a hellishly frenzied memory. Whenever Mo Ran recalled it, he

broke out in a cold sweat, thinking himself a man possessed, endlessly cruel.

At present, he patently didn't yet have the strength to contend with the

feathered tribe. In fact, due to the natural superiority of their blood, the vast

majority of cultivators fell short of their power in terms of spiritual strength.

Out of everyone on Sisheng Peak, only a few of the most exceptional elders

could even exchange blows with one of them.

Xue Meng caught a glimpse of Mo Ran's face and got quite a scare.

"What's up with you? Why's your face so pale?"

"It's nothing." Mo Ran lowered his eyelashes as he whispered, "I just

ran too fast earlier."

In his prior lifetime, the arrival of the feathered tribe had marked the

beginning of Shi Mei's tragedy. Mo Ran's heart jumped to his throat. He'd

thought it would be a while yet before all this recurred. Why had the

progression of so many events changed so drastically?

The faint winter sun hung weakly in the sky, illuminating the world in a

layer of deathly white. Standing underneath it, Mo Ran found himself

reaching out to take Shi Mei's hand.

Shi Mei blinked. "What's wrong?"

Mo Ran shook his head and said nothing.

At this time, Xue Zhengyong began to speak. His words didn't much

differ from those he had said in their last life. "I have called everyone here

today because envoys of the feathered tribe have once again arrived. Just as

they did eighty years ago, they have come to the mortal realm from Peach

Blossom Springs to lend aid during a foretold calamity."

A pause as he looked slowly over the disciples gathered below.

"As everyone knows, the barrier to the ghost realm was originally

erected by the god Fuxi, but it has gradually weakened over these past

million years and breaks every few decades. In recent years, its power has

faded by the day, and despite everyone's greatest efforts—"

Xue Meng huffed under his breath. "Dad's talking some nonsense. It's

obviously just the efforts of Shizun, more or less."

"Despite everyone's great efforts, the breach grows larger still, and

the barrier will eventually fail, as it did decades ago. When that time comes,

the boundary between the mortal and ghost realms will be broken, thousands

of ghosts and spirits will flood forth, and ordinary people will suffer. In

order to avert this calamity, envoys of the feathered tribe have come to the

sects to select those with the most suitable spiritual energy and innate skill to

go to Peach Blossom Springs, where they will cultivate in seclusion."

His words caused a commotion in the crowd. The feathered tribe was

selecting people to go advance their cultivation at Peach Blossom Springs—

in the land of the immortals?!

The gathered disciples went from awestruck to excited, and regardless

of actual ability, each secretly nursed hopes and expectations.

Only Mo Ran wasn't the least bit enthused. Instead, his features subtly

portrayed anxiety. He was typically very good at feigning appearances, so

much so that other people could never tell what of him was real and what

was fake, but in this moment, he couldn't remotely conceal his feelings.

This had to do with Shi Mei's survival. In the past, Shi Mei had been

selected by the feathered tribe and gone to Peach Blossom Springs to

cultivate. Not long after his return, the barrier suffered a large-scale

breakdown, and untold hordes of ghosts climbed up from hell.

In the ensuing battle, Shi Mei fought alongside Chu Wanning, each

taking one side of the array as they worked together to repair the largest

breach. However, Shi Mei wasn't as strong as Chu Wanning, and when the

countless ghosts saw that the mortal realm was about to be closed off, they

charged toward Shi Mei in a murderous torrent as he was focusing on

maintaining the balance in the barrier.

They ran him through in an instant. The demonic energy pierced his

heart and soul.

And Chu Wanning didn't lift even a single finger to help—didn't even

attempt to stop them. As Shi Mei fell from atop the coiled dragon pillar, Chu

Wanning instead chose to use all of his remaining power to seal the rest of

the barrier that Shi Mei had been unable to mend.

It had been snowing that day. Shi Mei's falling form had seemed like

just another one of those innumerable small, insignificant flakes of snow.

The snow fell nonstop, covering the sky. No one cared if a given

frozen crystal flake was about to melt, just like how in generation after

generation, when an ordinary person met their end after the decades of their

lives from birth to death, none but their close relatives cared.

In that snow, in that pandemonium, Mo Ran had held Shi Mei as his

breath grew shallower and shallower, had knelt on the ground and begged

Chu Wanning to please spare him a glance, to please save him.

In the end, Chu Wanning only turned away, choosing to walk into the

boundless white to realize his own prestige, thus severing the bonds between

master and disciple.

How laughable. The things Chu Wanning liked, the things he cared

about, the things he pursued, all of it was so very laughable.

For example, Chu Wanning liked the sound of rain in the lotus pond,

and he liked the melancholy verses of the poet Du Fu,

9

 with his frighteningly

strict adherence to form.

For another, Chu Wanning cared about the sprouting of plants in the

coming of spring, and the death of cicadas with the arrival of autumn; he

cared about where the flames of war were lit once again, and where the

common people struggled.

For yet another, Chu Wanning had always taught that it was righteous to

put the people before the self.

But Mo Ran thought: Fuck the people! He didn't know or care about

those people. What did it matter to him whether they lived or died?

If Chu Wanning's rain fell upon the mutterings of lost souls, if his

plants were splashed with the tears of refugees, Mo Ran didn't care. His rain

was everyday rain, and his plants were ordinary plants. The "common

people" were just a couple of words on a piece of paper. Who the hell

cared?

And so he thought Chu Wanning was despicable, a hypocrite who

spouted words of duty and compassion as if his heart was big enough to hold

everything under the sky. In reality, that pathetically small heart of his hadn't

even had a place for his own disciple.

Afterward, Mo Ran had savagely asked Chu Wanning, Does your

heart ache? How can you live with yourself? You say to put the people

before the self, but you're still alive while Shi Mei died following your

commands! You're the one who got him killed, you hypocrite—you liar!

Do you even have a heart?

When Shi Mei fell from the platform, he was calling for you. He was

calling "Shizun"—did you hear him? Did you? Why didn't you save

him…? Why didn't you save him?!

Chu Wanning, you have a stone for a heart.

You've…never cared about us.

You didn't care… You didn't care…

And then everything had ended up the way it did.

Chu Wanning was adored and respected by everyone in the cultivation

world, practically a king in all but name, and no one spared a thought for

those who had perished. Shi Mei's death was an unremarkable step under the

feet of the victorious.

Chu Wanning had traded an ungifted disciple for peace and prosperity,

for so-called world peace. No one would say he was wrong to do so.

Only Mo Ran saw that the brilliant crown atop his head was made of

the bones of the dead. That his success had been built on Shi Mei's death.

Hatred welled from the bottom of his heart.

"Hey, young man. Hey—"

All of a sudden, there was a warm hand on Mo Ran's forehead. He

started and opened his eyes as he was ripped from his pitch-black memories.

Before him was a delicate face, bright and lovely. One of the envoys

of the feathered tribe had approached without his notice, and she was smiling

gently at him.

"Falling into a trance with such a great opportunity right in front of

you?"

"Ah, big sis, please don't mind me." Mo Ran did his best to cheer up

so as to not rouse any suspicion, and he smiled back at the envoy. "I've

always been given to daydreams, and I was so hoping to be selected that I got

lost imagining what Peach Blossom Springs might look like. So sorry about

that."

It turned out that, while Mo Ran was lost in his memories, the envoys

of the feathered tribe had descended and begun selecting people. He had

been so caught up in his tangled thoughts that he had been wholly unaware of

the things happening around him.

The envoy smiled sweetly, then said something that Mo Ran hadn't at

all expected. "Your spiritual energy is pure, and your cultivation and aptitude

are both remarkable as well. If you wish to go to Peach Blossom Springs,

then come along with me."

Mo Ran was stunned for a long moment before it hit him. Go to Peach

Blossom Springs? In his last lifetime, only Shi Mei and Chu Wanning had

been chosen, so why, in this life—

He was too shocked to speak. Luckily, being chosen by the feathered

tribe was something worthy of shock and amazement, so the people nearby

didn't find his reaction remotely odd and only gazed at him with envy.

The envoy brought him to Loyalty Hall, and as the initial shock

subsided and Mo Ran's heart stopped hammering in his chest, his eyes began

to fill with an ecstasy that no one else detected.

Things were indeed different this life.

Even though he didn't yet know if these changes were for the better or

for the worse, or why exactly fate had changed at all, at least he could go to

Peach Blossom Springs as well. If he also studied under the feathered tribe,

then when the time came, the heavy task of repairing the barrier might not fall

on Shi Mei.

Mo Ran wasn't a cultured man; even after living two lives, he still

didn't understand what "putting the people before the self" really meant.

What he did know was that Shi Mei was kinder to him than anyone else in the

world, and that nothing mattered more than him—including Mo Ran's own

meat sack and half a wisp of returned soul.

As long as Shi Mei lived, Mo Ran would throw everything else away.

When the envoys had finished their selection and gathered them all in

front of Loyalty Hall, Mo Ran found that the lineup completely differed from

the one in his last life.

Shi Mei was there, as before, but as a result of being in seclusion, Chu

Wanning had missed the selection, so he wasn't amongst the chosen. In his

place was the Xuanji Elder's disciple, Xia Sini.

Even more surprising was the fact that Xue Meng had also been

invited. Per the words of the envoy, "The power of the Exalted Gouchen's

sacred sword lingers on your person. How interesting."

From the Heaven-Piercing Tower nearby there came the deep sound of

a clock reverberating throughout Sisheng Peak.

"From Sisheng Peak of the lower cultivation realm, the chosen are Xue

Ziming, Mo Weiyu, Shi Mingjing, and Xia Sini, for a total of four," the head

of the envoys conveyed to Xue Zhengyong, before releasing a messenger

myna bird. She lifted her hand with the vividly colored bird perched atop a

fingertip, then continued in a clear voice, "These four are exceptional

individuals, suitable in aptitude and sincere in character. Thus concludes this

report."

With that, she released the bird. The myna memorized her words and,

with a flutter of its powerful wings, quickly vanished into the vast skies.

To be able to go cultivate at Peach Blossom Springs was a rare

opportunity, even more so than acquiring a holy weapon, and no one would

turn it down. Moreover, they would be studying techniques to ward against

the breakdown of the barrier to the ghost realm, the foremost duty and

obligation of all those who cultivated. No one could decline.

As for the time, it would take anywhere from a couple of months to

three or even five years. The feathered tribe was not unreasonable. Seeing as

it was nearly the end of the year, they instructed the chosen to stay and spend

New Year's Eve at home. After that, they would return to bring the group to

Peach Blossom Springs at Mount Jiuhua.

When Mo Ran thought about how he would soon be able to go with Shi

Mei to Peach Blossom Springs, he couldn't be anything but overjoyed.

However, it wasn't long before the joy faded. He didn't understand why, at

first, until one day he passed the foot of the southern peak of Sisheng Peak

and looked up to see the sealed-off Red Lotus Pavilion.

Mo Ran's steps slowed unconsciously, then came to a stop altogether.

He stood there, gazing up where the mountain disappeared into the clouds.

Chu Wanning had been in seclusion for over three months.

In this life, the hatred Mo Ran held toward this person seemed to be

ebbing away. Even if he reminded himself time and again to not forget the

look on Chu Wanning's face when he'd abandoned Mo Ran and Shi Mei,

there were times when he empathized with his shizun—when he felt confused

and disconcerted.

Xia Sini was walking with him. Upon seeing the odd expression on

Mo Ran's face and the way he stared at the southern peak, lost in thought, his

heart skipped a beat. "What is it?"

"Xiao-shidi, do you think he'll come out before we leave?"

"He?"

"Ah." Mo Ran paused, coming back to his senses, and smiled down at

Chu Wanning. Having spent quite some time together, he felt that this little

shidi was clever and sensible, and he had grown very fond. "I was talking

about my shizun, the Yuheng Elder."

"I see…"

Mo Ran sighed. "He's never been in seclusion for so long before," he

muttered. "Could it be that the injury he received at Jincheng Lake was

actually super serious?"

This was the first time in a long while that Mo Ran had brought up his

shizun of his own accord. Chu Wanning already knew that it was impossible,

but he still couldn't stop himself from asking, "Do you…miss him?"