Chapter 105: Shizun's Human Soul

>>light gore

The lamp cast its bright light on a pair of people.

They weren't at Mengpo Hall anymore, but in Mo Ran's room. Chu Wanning couldn't see the road clearly, so Mo Ran had led him by the hand.

Chu Wanning was short two souls, unable to tell what day it was or even whose hand was holding his, only dazedly allowing the other to lead him along.

Mo Ran led him into the room, wiped the tears from his face, and closed the door behind them.

Chu Wanning set down the bowl of wontons he was holding. Then, feeling around, he went to the bed and asked softly:

"Mo Ran is still asleep?" "..." There was no response, so Chu Wanning assumed that Mo Ran was indeed still asleep. He sighed, and seemed a little disappointed.

Mo Ran couldn't bear it, and was also afraid he might leave, so he sat on the bed and said, "Shizun, I'm awake." Hearing him call for himself, Chu Wanning's brows moved slightly and he mn'd, but then seemed hesitant and said nothing else.

Mo Ran knew he had a thin face and would probably try to leave again after just a couple of words if he thought Shi Mei was here, so he picked up a hair clasp from the table and tossed it at the door to make it sound like Shi Mei had closed the door and left, then asked, "Why is Shizun here? Who brought you here?" Sure enough, Chu Wanning with only half his soul was much easier to fool than usual. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Shi Mingjing took me here.

Did he leave?" "He left." "Mn…" A moment passed in silence before Chu Wanning finally said, "The wound on your back…" "The wound on my back is not Shizun's fault," Mo Ran said in a soft voice. "I picked a precious herb without permission, Shizun's punishment was welldeserved."   Not having expected him to anything like that, Chu Wanning was slightly taken aback, then his delicate, curtain-like lashes quivered minutely as he sighed, "Does it still hurt?" "It doesn't hurt anymore." Chu Wanning lifted his hand, those ice-cold fingertips seeking until they touch Mo Ran's face, and then, a moment later: "Sorry, please don't hate Shizun."   He never would have spoken such soft words back then, but in death,

thinking back to things as his soul drifted in the Underworld, he found that he didn't regret anything other than how unkind he had been to his disciple. And so, given this second chance, these words that were once impossible to say came out so easily.

Mo Ran felt like a warm spring water was streaming over his heart; the hatred that remained after his rebirth, the old scars that refused to fade year after year, the unwillingness to accept things that was already on its last breath,

all of it had already been shattered into pieces, and now they were washed away by these heartfelt words of apology, leaving nothing behind.

In the light of the Soul-Calling Lantern, he gazed at his Shizun's face. He couldn't see the bloodstains anymore, and there seemed to be a whisp of life again in the paleness there. It was as if he was peering across all the time that could never turn back and seeing Chu Wanning's gentle countenance from the first time he saw him.

Unconsciously, Mo Ran raised a hand to cover his ice-cold hand with his own warm one.

"I don't hate you," he said. "Shizun, you're good to me. I don't hate you."   Chu Wanning stared blankly for a moment, then suddenly smiled.

Even though he was dead, even with blood and dirt on his face, his smile was still the first melt of a frozen-over stream, filling the entire room with the warmth of spring. His eyes were closed, but there seemed to be something glistening between his lashes. It was the bright, brilliant smile of one whose final wish had been granted, proud yet reserved, radiant yet humble, like the blooming of the most luxuriant and steadfast haitang tree, countless blossoms of gentle, faint blushes carefully dotting the dignified branches, beautiful and sweetscented, covering the leaves like so many stars.

Mo Ran couldn't help losing himself in the sight...

This was the first time in two lifetimes that he had seen Chu Wanning with such an easy and happy expression. Mo Ran wasn't smart; he thought of the saying "a flower-like smile", but deemed it unfitting, then he thought of "a smile of a hundred charms", but that seemed even more absurd.

He racked his brains but just couldn't think of a way to describe this lovely vision before him.

All he could do was sigh with feeling, how beautiful.

Such a beautiful person, how did he...never notice before?

Struck by a sudden, fortuitous inspiration, Mo Ran said in a soft voice,

"Shizun, there's something I want to tell you." "Hm?" "I really didn't know how valuable Madam Wang's haitang flower was. When I picked it that day, it was because I wanted to give it to you." Chu Wanning seemed surprised. Mo Ran's voice grew even softer, a little bashful, even a little helpless as he repeated, "It was for… for you." "But why would you pick that flower for me?"

Mo Ran's face flushed despite himself. "I-I-I don't know either, I just, just thought it was really pretty, I…" He didn't continue, vaguely surprised to find that he somehow still remembered how he had felt so long ago when picking that flower for Chu Wanning.

Chu Wanning without his other two souls was really so gentle, like a cat without its claws, all soft, docile belly and snowy, rounded paws.

He pat Mo Ran's head and smiled as he said, "Dummy." "...Mn," Mo Ran's eyes stung as he gazed up at him. He sniffled, "I'm a dummy." "Don't do it again." "I won't do it again." Mo Ran thought about how, when he gave up hope in the past life, he had gone around doing all manners of evil and terrorizing people, angering Chu Wanning until his Shizun finally gave up on him and tossed him that verdict —"deficient by nature, beyond remedy"—that he had resented for an entire lifetime. A hundred emotions welled up in his chest as he said, "Shizun, I promise you, from now on I won't do anything to disappoint you. I'll be good, I won't be bad." He was hardly well-read and didn't have any powerfully resounding words of promise to say, but he could feel the hot blood boiling in his chest as that pure and simple soul that he once had as a child finally seemed to stir from its slumber.

"Shizun, this disciple is slow-witted, and didn't realize until now how good you have been to me." His eyes were bright as he got up from the bed and knelt before Chu Wanning, bowing down low.

And when he lifted his head, the young man's expression was solemn and serious.

"So from now on, Mo Ran won't bring you any disgrace ever again." Sitting side by side, the master and disciple had a long talk, though Mo Ran did most of the talking. He was actually very cute when he set his mind on cherishing someone. Chu Wanning listened quietly, now and again shaking his head with a smile. Before they knew it, the skies outside the window gradually began to brighten, like the rich darkness of Huizhou ink being watered down.

The long night was coming to an end.

Master Huaizui stood by the stone bridge, the hems of his monk robes wet from splashes of the water rushing past, but he seemed not to notice at all as he waited silently.

The sun rose slowly from the east, its light passing through the leaves of trees to strike the turbulent waters of the Yellow Springs, instantly turning the racing currents a dazzling gold, the water sprays sparkling like the delicate scales of a dragon and light reflecting brilliantly where the flow billowed into waves, glistening and resplendent.

He was currently in the void realm, visible only to the one who finds Chu Wanning's soul. Shi Mei and Xue Meng had both come by already, but neither could see the old monk by the bank. He was calm by all appearances, but his hand thumbing a string of prayer beads unconsciously moved faster and more urgently with each passing moment.

Clatter—— Abruptly, the coils of prayer beads fell apart, the star-moon Bodhi beads dropping like rain all over the ground.

Huaizui's eyes flew open and he pressed his lips together, color draining from his face.

It was an ill omen. He stroked the broken string of the prayer beads, watching the rolling waves toss stray beads back onto the shore, and beads on the shore rolling into the waters… he stared blankly for a long while, face slowly growing paler.

"Great master!"

Someone suddenly called out to him.

"Great master!!!" Excitedly, exuberantly.

Huaizui looked immediately toward the source of the sound to see Mo Ran sprinting over from the distance, holding a Soul-Calling Lantern that flowed with both a scarlet light and a golden one.

The first rays of dawn were already dazzling enough, but this young man's eyes were even brighter than the morning sun, gleaming like a pair of crystals.

He screeched to a halt in front of Huaizui, cheeks flushed and panting slightly,

but uncontrollably excited.

"I found him," Mo Ran brushed aside his disheveled bangs, that lantern holding Chu Wanning's Human Soul tucked snugly against his chest. "He wasn't unwilling to see me, he's… he's in here." He pointed at the lantern in his arm, but then hesitated, wanting to hand it over to Huaizui but also loathe to part with it,

his hands extending out only a couple of inches before drawing back in again.

Huaizui let out a subtle sigh of relief and looked him up and down, then said with a laugh, "Since you're the one who found him, you can hold him, no need to give to me."   So, very carefully, Mo Ran continued holding the lantern.

Huaizui picked up the monk staff leaning against the tree, tapped it lightly against the water, and a jade-green bamboo raft with a white cord tied to its curved bow appeared out of nowhere.

"There's no time to lose, please board."   It was common knowledge that Sisheng Peak's river connected to the Ghost Realm, but since there was a barrier in between, going to the Underworld wasn't just a simple matter of flowing along the waters.

Master Huaizui's bamboo raft was enchanted to allow it to pass between the Yin and the Yang, so after half a day and many miles of Mo Ran sitting alone on the raft sailing the currents, he came upon a waterfall.

The waterfall to the Underworld.

This waterfall connected to the infinite cosmos above and the deepest reaches of Hell below, with no defined boundaries and neither beginning nor end. The watery curtain came down in a great cascade, the spray of droplets giving rise to a foggy mist.

Before Mo Ran could even get a closer look, the bamboo raft was already carrying him straight toward that enormous curtain of water the size of prehistoric beasts. He didn't even have time to react when powerful streams of water were already immediate, like countless blades poised to tear right through flesh and bone!

"SHIZUN——!" In the midst of danger, the only thing Mo Ran cared only was the SoulCalling Lantern in his arms. He held the lantern tightly against himself to shield it,

never once letting go even as he was drawn into a raging whirlpool and everything was dark stormy chaos…

He didn't know how long had passed when the deafening sound of the waterfall abruptly vanished.

And the barrage of knives-like deluge disappeared as well.

Mo Ran opened his eyes slowly, only letting out a breath of relief when he checked that the Soul-Calling Lantern was safe and sound. But then he looked up and was stunned speechless by the sight before him.

That waterfall traversing the realms of Yin and Yan was nowhere to be seen,

and the bamboo raft was drifting gently on a vast lake with tranquil waters. The lake was a deep blue that flowed with specks of starlight, and countless whisps of faint souls swam through its waters like shoals of fish. Reeds flourished along both its shores, with faintly-glowing flowers that drifted to and fro in the draft.

    From the left side and the right, in the depths of the reeds, came the singing voices of a man and a woman, the notes wafting as if from a dream, sorrowful yet serene.

"My body into the thunderous abyss, limbs ground into paste. My skull into the open world, eyesockets withered into dust. Scarlet ants devour my heart and vultures my innards… only the soul returns… only the soul returns…" Green waters of the Yellow Springs flow east, past bygone never to return.

Mo Ran continued drifting on the bamboo raft for a long time, and then,

suddenly, a great gateway that towered into the black sky appeared in the heavy darkness of night.

Once closer, he could see that the enormous gateway was grand and majestic, with fine details that were splendid and exquisite. It was like a vile beast of gold and jade, covered in honey and decorated with pearls, that had been crouching in the darkness with its bloody, putrid-smelling maw wide open since time immemorial as untold numbers of lonely souls and lost ghosts wandered into its stomach.

Even closer, the sinister turrets looked like fangs that could pierce the sun,

and the whole structure seemed like the imposing head of a massive beast lying in wait for all the grievances of the world.

Even closer, and the piece of Chu Wanning's soul in the lantern seemed nervous, its golden glow pulsing in brightness and swaying slightly.

"It's alright," Mo Ran sensed his unease and hugged the lantern closer,

leaning in until his lips were nearly touching the paper to whisper soothing words as he channeled in more of his spiritual energy to keep him company.

"Shizun, don't be afraid, I'm here." The light quivered for a moment, then settled back down.

Lowering his thick lashes, Mo Ran peeked into the lantern and couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. He reached out and caressed the edge of the lantern,

then hugged it even closer.

In the pitch black night, the words "Ghost Gate" were writ large and bold,

strikingly vivid as if newly written in the fresh blood of the living.

The bamboo raft reached the shore, and Mo Ran set foot on the road to the Underworld, the very ground saturated with the smell of blood.

As he walked on, there were more and more people around him, men and women, old and young, even wailing infants that had died soon after birth, all of them drifting toward the inner reaches of the Underworld.

No matter if they were emperors, generals, or ministers in life with riches and splendors unbound, or commoners and peasants with not a penny to their names, no matter how much money or things they had been buried with.

In this time, in this place, all must travel this final road alone.

Mo Ran followed the swarming crowd of souls to the entrance of the Ghost Realm.

There was a person sitting there fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan,

probably a soldier, judging by his clothes. His stomach had been cut open when he died, and his intestines slid out from time to time.

The gatekeeper used the handle of the fan to shove his intestines back in with an air of impatience, then looked up lazily to interrogate the newly deceased soul.

"What's your name?" "Sun Erwu." "How'd you die?" "I, I died of old age." So the gatekeeper picked up a big stamp and carelessly stamped an Underworld entry pass with "Died of Old Age" before handing it to Sun Erwu.

"Don't lose it or you'll have to go to Seventeenth Hall to apply for a replacement.

You can go. Next."   Sun Erwu was extremely nervous; to be fair, every newly dead person,

regardless of how valiant or knowledgeable in life, would probably be nervous.

"A-am I gon' be put on trial? I'm a darn good person, ain't never killed no chicken in me life, jus' wonderin' if I kin mebbe get a better lot next life, at least have enough money to get me a wifey…" The old man prattled nervously, on and on without stop.

The gatekeeper quickly grew sick and tired of his babbling, waving a hand as he said, "Trial? That's still a ways off. There are so many souls here in the Ghost Realm, it'll take at least eight years to get through the reincarnation queue, if not ten. Just hang around and wait your turn, it's not much different here than in the living world. Save all that about chickens and wives for the the lord judge when it gets to your turn. Next." Sun Erwu was dumbfounded, stammering in a thick accent, "Eight, ten years?" Not too far away in the line, Mo Ran was shocked as well, "Wha? It takes that long to get judged for reincarnation?" "Of course. Though it's another matter altogether for the truly reprehensible ones or the ones that have something weird going on with their souls," the gatekeeper snickered maliciously at his comment; the snicker made his intestines slip out again, and he had to stuff them back in. "The ones headed for the Eighteen Hells[13] never have to wait long." Mo Ran: "..."   That dense half-wit Sun Erwu still wanted to ask more, but the gatekeeper's patience was at an end, waving his hand and saying, "Go on, go on, away with you. Everyone's waiting to get reincarnated, don't hold up the line. Next, next." So Sun Erwu was driven off by the fanning of his palm-leaf fan.

The next one was a young woman with her pretty face all made-up. She opened her mouth to speak, and the poise and coquetry unique to a certain line of work was evident in her gaze as she said in a soft voice, "My lord, this humble one is called Jin Hua'er[14], and was beaten to death by a brutish villain…"

The ghosts took their turns; each and every one of them had their own thoughts and manners of death.

All the chaotic portrayals of life were gathered here, and there were few sights more bustling and jumbled than this. But Mo Ran only held the lantern in his arms closer to himself.

He owed his Shizun; he didn't care about anything else.

All he cared about was finding that last remaining piece of his Shizun's soul.

"Name?" The gatekeeper yawned, then lifted his eyes to look at Mo Ran.

Mo Ran was just about to answer when the gatekeeper suddenly quivered,

as if sensing that there was something off with this person, and abruptly stood up to stare intently at his face.

"..." Mo Ran cursed in his mind—he had already died once, who knows if there was something odd about his soul from that; even if not, he was currently holding a piece of someone else's soul in his arms, and that was just as questionable. But there the Ghost Realm had just this one entrance, so there was no other way about it.

He could only brace himself and meet the gatekeeper's gaze directly.

The gatekeeper narrowed his eyes.

Mo Ran feigned a calmness he didn't feel as he gave his name, "Mo Ran." The gatekeeper said nothing.

Mo Ran's heart thundered like a drum as he forced his expression to remain steady. "I had a qi deviation and died just like that. I'd like an entry pass, please."

[13] Brief overview of the crimes and punishments in each level of the Eighteen Hells

[14] Jin Hua'er means Gold Flower, an obvious prostitute name