Chapter 120: Shizun Goes Into Seclusion

The first light of dawn painted red the clouds in the sky. It was still early, but there was already a large gathering of disciples outside the Red Lotus Pavilion,

dressed in white mourning robes and lining the sides of the pathway with heads lowered and eyes downcast.

"Dong——dong——dong——" The sound of the morning bell came from the Heaven-Piercing Tower, and several people could be seen walking slowly in the distance, carrying a coffin.

Xue Zhengyong and Tanlang Elder walked in front, followed by Mo Ran and Xue Meng, with Shi Mei and a monk dressed in worn robes walking on either side.

They approached slowly through the morning fog, treading along the dew-slick bluestone path.

The monk was holding a lantern. It was already light out, but the lantern's glow was no less brilliant, its golden radiance dazzling like summer blossoms.

The gathering of disciples lowered their heads solemnly, barely even daring to breathe. They had already heard that Master Huaizui of Wubei Temple had hastened over for the sake of Yuheng Elder, so this unassuming monk was probably him. The reverence that the juniors held toward such a person of legend far outweighed their curiosity, and none dared to take a good look as he made his way up the long mountain path. And so, with the tapping sounds of a monk stick and the glimpse of a pair of hemp-woven monk shoes from downcast eyes, the great master passed by with lightly billowing robes as the disciples stood reverently in his wake.

The coffin was carried steadily the whole way; it was not a burial, but a revival, and so no one wept. Arriving at the Red Lotus Pavilion, Huaizui looked around before saying, "Next to the lotus pond will do. There's an abundance of spiritual energy there, suitable for spells." "Alrighty, you heard the Great Master!" Xue Zhengyong led the others to go set the black ice coffin down by the lotus pond. "Just let me know if the Great Master needs anything else. Saving Yuheng is the same as saving half my life,

I'll do anything I can to help!" "Many thanks for Xue-zhangmen's kindness," Huaizui said. "This humble monk has no needs at the moment, but will be sure to inform Zhangmen if any should arise in the future." "Sure, please do feel free." Huaizui put his palms together and bowed respectfully toward Xue Zhengyong with a smile, then turned to address the others present. "This incompetent monk will need five years to return Elder Chu's soul. In order to prevent disturbances, Red Lotus Pavilion will be closed to visitors from today until Elder Chu's revival in five years."   Xue Meng had already been told about that before, but having Huaizui confirm once again that it was going to take five years for Shizun to wake up, the rims of his eyes still grew red as he silently lowered his head.

"If anyone wishes to say any parting words to Elder Chu, then please do so now. After today, it'll be a thousand-some days until you can meet again."   So they went, one by one.

Xue Zhengyong and the elders went first, taking turns to stand solemnly before the coffin and say their farewells. Xue Zhengyong said, "Let us meet again soon." Tanlang said, "Wake up soon."

Xuanji said, "Hope everything goes well." Lucun said with a sigh, "I kinda envy you, frozen in time for five years like this and not having to look any older." The other elders also each said their piece, some longer and some shorter,

and it was Xue Meng's turn before long. Xue Meng had every intention to hold it together, but his emotions had always gotten the better of him, and this too was no exception as he started crying next to Chu Wanning's coffin.

He choked out between sobs while vigorously wiping away his tears,

"Shizun, I'll work hard to train myself, even if you're not here. I definitely won't embarrass you at the upcoming Spiritual Mountain Competition. I'll tell you all about my high ranking when you wake up. My Shizun doesn't have losers as his disciples, after all." Xue Zhengyong walked over and clapped him on the shoulder. Xue Meng didn't cling to his father like he usually did, but turned away with a sniffle instead.

He didn't want to look like a useless spoiled child that needed his father for everything in front of his shizun.

Next was Shi Mei. Shi Mei's eyes were wet as well; he didn't say anything,

only looked at Chu Wanning for a while with his head lowered, before quietly retreating to the side.

After he left, a light pink haitang blossom was placed gently into the coffin.

The hand that placed it, although still somewhat youthful looking, was already long and slender.

Mo Ran stood by the coffin. A breeze danced past the surface of the water,

carrying the softly sweet fragrance of the lotus flowers. The breeze tousled his fringe, but when he lifted his hand, it was to brush Chu Wanning's face.

Mo Ran pressed his lips together, looking like he had a lot that he wanted to say, but in the end, all he said was a soft, slightly hoarse, "I'll wait for you." Wait for you for what?

He didn't say. He felt like he probably wanted to say 'I'll wait for you to wake up,' but those words seemed insufficient somehow. It felt like there was no way to express the feelings that were crowded to bursting in his chest, as if there was a pool of scalding hot lava in his heart, surging about madly and unable to find a way out, the force of the impact making him feel pained and panicked.

It felt like the impact would one day rip right through his heart, and then the lava would spill out uncontrollably, and the raging flow would melt him into ash.

But right now, he still wasn't sure what that burning feeling was.

So he only said "I'll wait for you."   The Red Lotus Pavilion was closed off.

An enormous barrier came down like a gate separating life from death, denying anyone entry.

Henceforth, for the next five years, none would be privy to the fragrance of lotus blossoms in the summer, nor the quiet solitude of snow in the winter within the pavilion.

Bamboo leaves rustled in the wind and haitang blossoms drifted slowly down. From outside the Red Lotus Pavilion all the way to the main gate, disciples knelt down on the ground, with Mo Ran, Xue Meng, and Shi Mei at the head of this vast river.

Xue Zhengyong announced in a booming voice that rang through the skies and forests, "Wishing Yuheng Elder well in his seclusion."

The disciples repeated solemnly with their heads down, "Wishing Yuheng Elder well in his seclusion."   Thousands of voices rose, out of sync, rumbling forth from the cloudshrouded Sisheng Peak and startling the birds into flight all around, birdcalls filling the skies as they circled the treetops, not daring to land. The mass of voices rose heavensward, rumbling like thunder through streaming clouds.

"Wishing Shizun well in his seclusion," Mo Ran said in a soft voice.

Then bowed down to the ground for a long time.

Five years of waiting.

After Yuheng went into seclusion, his three disciples, unwilling to even temporarily take other elders as teacher, each worked hard to train and cultivate on their own.

For reasons of aptitude, cultivation path, and other such, Shi Mei and Xue Meng stayed at the peak, while Mo Ran chose to travel.

Mo Ran really did learn better through experience, but the other reason he made this choice was because so many things had turned out differently in this reborn life—aside from what had happened with Chu Wanning, that fake Gouchen worried him a great deal.

He suspected that the person behind everything might also have been reborn. After all, that person could already be said to be quite proficient in Zhenlong Chess Formation, but in the previous lifetime, even up until he took his own life, there had been no one else in the world capable of utilizing this forbidden technique to this extent.

He had no talent for ferreting out hidden identities, but ever since the battle at Butterfly Town, the entire cultivation world had kept its eyes peeled, just waiting for that person to slip up and expose themselves, so he didn't really need to get involved in this matter.

Mo Ran knew he wasn't exactly smart, that his strength lay in his abundance of spiritual energy and natural aptitude for cultivation. Since another confrontation in the future was inevitable, the best thing he could do right now was to get himself back up to his pre-rebirth battle prowess as soon as possible.

Last life, he had been a destroyer.

This life, he wanted to be a protector.

Not long after Chu Wanning had gone into seclusion, Mo Ran stood before the main gate of Sisheng Peak.

Carrying a traveling bag, just about to set off on his journey.

Only a few people came to see him off: Xue Zhengyong, Madam Wang, and Shi Mei.

Xue Zhengyong clapped him on the shoulder and said, a little awkwardly,

"Meng-er won't be coming, he said…" Mo Ran chuckled, "He said he's too busy training in the forest to come see me off, didn't he?"   "..." Feeling even more awkward, Xue Zhengyong couldn't help chiding, "That thoughtless brat!" Mo Ran said with a smile, "He's got his heart set on first place at the Spiritual Mountain Competition, it's only natural that he be diligent about training. I'll leave it to him to earn glory in Shizun's name."

Xue Zhengyong looked at Mo Ran hesitantly, then said, "The Spiritual Mountain Competition is the foremost tournament in orthodox cultivation. I'm sure Ran-er will grow and learn much in his travels, but the competition probably won't allow the kind of assorted, admixed techniques you're going to end up learning. It'd be a pity if you end up missing out because of that." Mo Ran replied, "My cousin's got it covered." "Don't you want to make a name for yourself?"   Mo Ran actually burst out laughing at that.

Make a name for himself?

He had missed out on the Spiritual Mountain Competition in the last lifetime because he had committed some wrong and had been punished by confinement at the time, and he had always felt resentful about that. But that same thing seemed to him such a non-issue now—what did it even matter? He was someone who had already been through so much death and partings, awash in an endless tidal flood of trials and tribulations, who had gone from unresigned to expectant, from expectant to resentful, from resentful to relieved, from relieved to remorseful.

Here and now, what Mo Ran wanted was no longer beauties and fine wine,

or the worship of the masses, much less things like revenge and the adrenaline rush of killing and razing.

He had already seen for himself the boundless opulence and luxuries at the apex of the world, and he had already grown tired of it all. He didn't want to go back there—it was cold, and there was no one by his side.

After all, he had once been Emperor Taxian-jun, had stood upon the mightiest mountain with the world in the palm of his hand, had seen all that there was to see. Of course he wouldn't care about some trifling thing like the measly applause and couple of cheers at the Spiritual Mountain Competition.

As for the ranking…

Whoever wanted it could have it.

"I'd rather do other things," Mo Ran said with a smile. "Xue Meng is a young master, and young masters have their way of living. But I'm just a hooligan, and hooligans have their own hooligan lives."   Madam Wang couldn't help the pity in her voice as she said, "Silly child, what are you saying? You're the same as Meng-er, what young master and hooligan?"   Mo Ran laughed 'hehe', but it was a little pained.

One was born into the lap of luxury while the other was low and petty by birth. Even though he had been immensely fortunate to end up here at Sishing Peak, he had still spent the first over ten years of his life in a murky haze, so how could they possibly be the same?

But seeing the gentle, concerned look on Madam Wang's face, he couldn't really say any of that, so he only nodded and said, "Auntie is right, I misspoke." Madam Wang shook her head with a smile and handed him a small qiankun pouch with pollia flowers sewn on it. "You'll have to look after yourself while you travel. Take this, it's filled with medicines for injuries. I made them myself, so they're more effective than the kind you can buy in stores. Make sure not to lose it." Mo Ran said gratefully, "Thanks a lot, Auntie." Shi Mei said, "I don't really have anything to give you besides this jade pendant. Here, wear it, it keeps your spiritual core warm." Taking it in hand, Mo Ran noted that the white jade was creamy smooth and warm to the touch, an exceedingly rare, high grade item. He hurriedly tucked the jade pendant back into Shi Mei's hand, saying, "I can't accept this, it's far too valuable. And besides, my spiritual core is already fire elemental to start with, if it gets warmed any further… I might have a Qi deviation." Shi Mei laughed, "Don't be silly, what Qi deviation?" "Anyway, I'm not taking it." Mo Ran maintained. "You have a weak constitution, it'll do you more good than it would me." "But I had someone get it from the Xuanyuan Pavilion auction just for you…"   Mo Ran felt all warm at his words, but more than that, felt his heart ache for him. "Then it must've been really expensive… this jade pendant really wouldn't do much for me, but it'd be great for you. Shi Mei, I appreciate the thought, but please keep it for yourself, and remember to wear it so it can nourish your spiritual energy." Shi Mei still wanted to say something, but Mo Ran had already uncoiled the thin cord and put the jade pendant around his neck.

"Looks good," he said with a smile, then lifted a hand to pat Shi Mei on the shoulder. "Looks much better on you than it would on me. I'm such a rough and tumble kind of person, I'd probably break it in two days time."   "Ran-er is right, the jade pendant can be worn by anyone, but it's best for people with water elemental spiritual cores. Mei-er, just keep it." Now that even Madam Wang has spoken up, of course Shi Mei would listen to her. He nodded and said to Mo Ran, "Then, take care of yourself." "Don't worry, I'll write to you often."   Shi Mei was a bit sad at having to say goodbye soon, but he couldn't help laughing at that. "Only Shizun can read your chicken-scratch handwriting, you know."   Mo Ran wasn't sure what it was that he felt at the mention of Chu Wanning.

The hatred that used to gnaw at his very bones had dissipated, but the remorse was still there, like a wound scabbing over, a dull, itchy ache in his heart.

And so, with this feeling in his chest, Mo Ran set off down the mountain by himself.

"One, two, three…" He counted in his head as he walked, head lowered.

"One hundred and one, one hundred and two, one hundred and three…" Arriving at the foot of the mountain, he couldn't help looking back toward Sisheng Peak, high up and shrouded amongst the clouds, with no end to be seen to the long flight of stone steps. He murmured, "Three thousand seven hundred and ninety nine."   He had counted as he walked.

It was the number of steps up to the main gate, the number of steps that Chu Wanning had climbed that day, carrying him on his back.

He was sure that, for as long as he lived, he would never forget what Chu Wanning's hands had been like, cold as ice, chafed raw and bloody.

Truth of the matter was, whether a person did good or committed evil was rarely ever due to their inherent nature. Each person was like a plot of farmland; some were lucky, their fields sprinkled with seeds of grains, bearing an abundant harvest come autumn, paddies wafting with the soft fragrance of rice and fields of wheat dancing in the wind like waves, and everything would be good and praise-worthy.

But some were not so lucky. Their fields were planted with the seeds of poppy flowers, and the spring breeze brought only the sin of intoxicated dissipation and euphoric decadence, filling the skies and covering the lands with that vile, bloody red and gold. The people abhorred it, cursed it, feared it, even as they indulged in its blissful stupor, rotted away in its filthy stench.

And in the end, the righteous and upstanding would gather together, set the field on fire, and as the twisting smoke rose into the sky, they would say he was a breeding ground of sin, that he was a demonic fiend, that he was vicious and ruthless, that he had no conscience, that he deserved it.

He convulsed in the blaze, crying out in pain as the poppy flowers shriveled up and turned into mud, the air choked with the smell of burning.

But he had once been a plot of good farmland too, had once wanted nothing more than water and sunlight too.

Just whom was it, who had planted that first seed of darkness, sowed the disaster that grew out of control?

The plot of land, once temperate and splendid, went up in flames and turned into dust.

Laid fallow.

He was a plot of unwanted, abandoned land.

He never thought that someone would come into his life and plough these fields again, give him another chance.

Chu Wanning.

It would be five years before he could see him again. Today was day one.

He suddenly found himself already missing Chu Wanning's face, his stern,

angry, gentle, serious, steadfast face.

Mo Ran slowly closed his eyes.

He thought back to his lives, past and present, so many bygone happenings scattering like snow in the wind. He slowly realized that the heavenly rift incident had in fact been the biggest crossroads of his life.

In his last life, he had loved someone dearly.

Later, that person had given up his life, and he'd ended up in hell.

In this life, there was someone else who loved and protected him.

Later, that person had given up his life, and brought him back to the world of the living.