Chapter 8: Death

Chapter 8:
Death

 

AT FIRST GLANCE, this disciple looked rather ordinary. They were mixed in with the crowd of Huan Hua Palace disciples, hunched over and huddling close, gaze flickering around.

Shen Qingqiu only noticed him because his face was one color, his neck another, and his hands yet two more different hues. Furthermore, within this agitated mob where everyone’s blood was running hot, he didn’t draw his sword or cry out for a fight, nor did he glare at the offending party with furious eyes. Instead, he brushed back and forth through the Huan Hua Palace disciples with his head down, looking just like a pickpocket taking advantage of the ruckus.

As far as Shen Qingqiu knew, only one type of person acted like this.

While Ming Fan was mid-clash, sword ringing and clanging, he looked back and cried, “Xiao-shimei! Shimei, how are you?”

Ning Yingying had halted for a while, like the slap had stunned her silly. Now she finally came back to her senses. Her face was half-red, half-white, expression furious and eyes teary, but she brandished her sword to fight back. She’d suffered this humiliation because she’d been momentarily softhearted. This time, she would show no mercy whatsoever.

The shop’s interior descended into a massive brawl. To the side, Shen Qingqiu saw an old cat lazily curl its tail, licking its fur in the sunlight. He scooped it up with a single hand and tossed it into the tavern. Surprised, the old cat screeched and darted back and forth between the two fighting camps. Shen Qingqiu lowered his head and followed it, slipping into the circle of battle.

Once this strange person had mysteriously pushed into the fray, both sides paused. Afraid to harm an innocent, Ning Yingying hesitated slightly. But the Little Palace Mistress didn’t have such reservations. Picking her whip back up, she lashed out as before. Shen Qingqiu chased the old cat back and forth through the hall, calling the name he’d given it on the spot.

In the midst of this chaos, Ning Yingying’s hands were obviously tied, especially as she was afraid to make a careless move. Yet she kept feeling as if someone was lifting her elbow, then like someone was pushing her shoulder. It was as if even when she didn’t move her sword, it still danced, throwing off silvery light.

Suddenly, two smacks rang out, and the Little Palace Mistress held her face, dumbstruck and petrified like a wooden chicken, frozen on the spot.

These two slaps had been much louder and sharper than the one she had delivered to Ning Yingying’s face.

Everyone in both camps had seen Ning Yingying’s arms fly, slapping first with one hand then the other, giving the Little Palace Mistress two smacks in the face. In tacit agreement, they all stopped where they were.

Ming Fan cheered. “Xiao-shimei, nice hit!”

“No, that actually wasn’t me…” Ning Yingying said weakly.

“Don’t be scared, it’s already done!” Ming Fan said encouragingly. “Everyone knows she started it. You were considerate enough not to hurt her, and she responded with a sneak attack. Serves her right!”

The crowd of Qing Jing Peak disciples agreed, one after another.

The Little Palace Mistress’s tears glistened. “You…you…you dare to hit me… Not even my daddy’s ever hit me!”

“No, it really wasn’t me…”

“It was you!” Ming Fan cut in, scoffing. “Remember, whenever Qing Jing Peak’s disciples are bullied, we must return it twofold! If we don’t hit back, we’ll betray all of Shizun’s lessons!”

Shen Qingqiu internally cheered together with the disciples. Good boy Ming Fan had earnestly taken his teachings to heart.

Yes, yes, yes, grudges must be repaid in just this way!

Stealthily, Shen Qingqiu slipped into the group of Huan Hua Disciples and finally caught that old cat, which was still howling and screeching. Regardless of how stupid a person might be, they could still see that something was off with him.

While cupping her two red, terribly cumbersome-looking swollen cheeks, the Little Palace Mistress glared at him, filled with resentment. “Hey! Who exactly are you? Who would dare mess with me like this?”

The Huan Hua Palace disciples surrounded him, yelling, “The Palace Mistress is asking you a question!”

Shen Qingqiu bent over and released the cat. Then he straightened and pointed to the disciple who stood hunched and lurking in the back. “Instead, why don’t you ask: Who exactly is he?”

All at once, every one of those gazes focused on that person.

The Little Palace Mistress was still in a rage, so at first she only gave the indicated disciple a sideways glance, but the more she looked, the stranger she found him. Leaving Shen Qingqiu alone for now, she turned to the odd disciple and said suspiciously, “Who are you? What are you doing, dressed like that? Are you really from our Huan Hua Palace? Why have I never seen you before?”

The disciple mumbled but couldn’t manage a reply.

The Little Palace Mistress turned to her subordinates. “What about you? Do you recognize him?”

Realizing things weren’t looking good, the disciple made an eerie sound, which made everyone turn their blades on him.

“Don’t get close!” Shen Qingqiu warned with a raised voice. At the same time, he plucked another leaf, then flicked his wrist and sent it forth.

This time both Ning Yingying and Ming Fan saw the way that leaf flew, and they balked. Enveloped in a sword glare’s glow, the leaf pierced through the air and sliced open the strange disciple’s outer robes, cleaving through his clothes to reveal the skin underneath.

At this, it was like everyone had seen a ghost, and they backed up several steps. Some went even farther, shrieking as they leapt straight out of the tavern.

Scarlet-colored skin.

It was in perfect accord with Shen Qingqiu’s guess. To his knowledge, only one type of entity held themselves with that posture: a sower disguised as a normal person.

Only the usually exposed parts of the sower’s skin had been painted to resemble the hue of an ordinary person’s, and so the sower’s cover was blown on the spot. As such, it decided it had nothing to lose and rushed forth with a yell, eyes bloodshot. These disciples were young juniors, so most of them hadn’t gone on the recent excursion to Jin Lan City. Therefore they had only heard of this monster and never seen it. Now that a real one had appeared before them—and one that was madly grabbing at whoever it saw at that—they were all scared senseless.

When the sower threw itself toward a Qing Jing Peak disciple, Shen Qingqiu flashed between them and planted a foot in the sower’s chest, sending it flying through two tables and spewing fresh blood everywhere.

He turned his head to yell at the group. “Hurry up and leave!”

Instead, Ning Yingying latched on to him, crying and laughing. “Shizun—is it you, Shizun?”

No way! My face is covered in dirt and whiskers and you can still recognize me?

Shen Qingqiu was very slightly moved. However, in this kind of situation, choosing not to leave and on top of that staying behind to be a burden—and moreover calling out his true identity despite his disguise… As expected, she was still dumb.

When the sower tenaciously threw itself toward them again, refusing to relent, Shen Qingqiu pushed Ning Yingying away with a hand as gentle as spring. Then, with the other hand as harsh as winter, he flicked a fire technique at the enemy.

It didn’t hit.

No—the fire didn’t even come out!

The fountain of blood that had remained dormant and hidden in Shen Qingqiu’s throat for many years once more began to stir. He’d had enough of this Without a Cure, the poison that just loved dropping the ball at key moments!

He snapped his fingers continuously over and over, but not a single flame sprang forth. Like a lighter out of lighter fluid, he click-click-clicked away, but there were no sparks no matter how he snapped. While Shen Qingqiu became flustered, the sower lunged and latched on to his thigh.

Shen Qingqiu was struck speechless.

He unthinkingly raised his misfortune-plagued right hand. Naturally, he could already detect three red patches happily taking root and growing at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Not fair! Why am I infected so fast every time?!

Perhaps his rage and sorrow alchemized into a fuse, because with his last snap, an explosive burst of flames finally ignited between his fingers. With a kick, Shen Qingqiu sent the sower clinging to his thigh flying, and he struck downward with a palm alight with raging flames.

The sower was engulfed in a blaze of fire and a series of horrible shrieks.

Ning Yingying and Ming Fan tearfully sandwiched Shen Qingqiu on his left and right. “Shizun!”

The other Qing Jing Peak disciples were about to join in, but they quickly retreated under their Shizun’s “go outside and run five hundred laps” glare.

Since his disguise was already a wash, Shen Qingqiu scrubbed and wiped at his face until he recovered his original appearance. “Was anyone infected?” he asked. Then, with a heartfelt tone, he finally said a line he’d always dreamed of saying: “Hurry and take some medicine. You must not stop taking your medication!”5

One male and one female voice, one high and one low, sobbed into his ears.

“Shizun, we finally found you.”

“Shizun, this disciple missed you so much it hurt!”

Shen Qingqiu hadn’t even replied when a cold feeling lanced down his back. He pushed aside his two disciples and sent Xiu Ya flying out from the folds of his robes. With a clang, his blade blocked the Little Palace Mistress’s refined iron whip.

If the Little Palace Mistress could have been considered only temporarily enraged during the recent altercation with Qing Jing Peak, then this time her actions truly brimmed with killing intent. She hacked away with the short whip in her hand like it was a knife or an axe, every move vicious and desperate.

“Are you mad?” Shen Qingqiu asked bluntly. “Where does all this rage come from every day?” He’d long wanted to ask that question!

“You wicked villain!” the Little Palace Mistress shouted. “Return the lives of my shixiong and shijie!”

At first, Shen Qingqiu thought that she was once again grieving the Huan Hua Disciples who’d died during the Immortal Alliance Conference. He would never have guessed what the Little Palace Mistress screamed next.

“Just because Ma-shixiong said some harsh things to you while you were being imprisoned, you—you… He died so horribly, so horribly…”

Who’s Ma-shixiong? Could it be that nasty, sarcastic pockmarked guy?

“This Shen didn’t take a single life when leaving Huan Hua Palace,” he said. “So why are you telling me that he died horribly?” He then turned to his disciples to whisper, “He really died? How horrible was it?”

“He really did die,” Ming Fan answered, also quiet. “It was utterly, utterly horrible. His entire body was green and decayed. They say it was a highly toxic demonic poison.”

Toxic demonic poison? That very much sounded like Luo Binghe’s handiwork.

“Quibbling is useless!” the Little Palace Mistress said. “Today, for the deaths of my Huan Hua Palace disciples, I absolutely must make you pay with your life!”

“This Shen has never been good with poison, and there are hundreds upon thousands of ways to kill your Huan Hua Palace’s disciples,” Shen Qingqiu countered. “Why would I choose the most cumbersome strategy? I did indeed escape from prison, but how can you prove I killed them?”

“Then can you prove you didn’t kill them?” a Huan Hua Palace disciple shouted.

If Shen Qingqiu didn’t untangle this, he was afraid that in the future, the two sects wouldn’t ever be able to let the matter rest. He deliberated a little, then probed further. “What does your esteemed sect’s head disciple Gongyi Xiao have to say about this matter?”

The Little Palace Mistress’s eyes went wide; the tears that had originally stopped started to fall once more. “You still dare mention Gongyi-shixiong?” She raised her whip and pointed it at Shen Qingqiu. “You think that just because he’s dead and can’t testify, you can use him however you wish?”

Shen Qingqiu felt like he’d been struck by lightning.

He caught her whip mid-strike between two fingers. He hoped he’d heard wrong. “What did you say? Gongyi Xiao died? When did this happen? Who did it?”

Even in the original work, the worst part of Gongyi Xiao’s fate had been an assignment to Huan Hua Palace’s border territories, where he became a trivial character.

“Who did it?” the Little Palace Mistress asked savagely. “You still have the face to ask who did it?!”

Huan Hua Palace’s disciples surrounded Shen Qingqiu, robes rustling.

“Kill this despicable villain,” the Little Palace Mistress ordered. “Take revenge for Gongyi-shixiong, and for the shixiong and shijie who were guarding the Water Prison. Satisfy their grudges!”

Shen Qingqiu’s heart went cold. Could Luo Binghe really have slaughtered every last one of the disciples guarding the Water Prison, including Gongyi Xiao?

And was the loss of those hundreds of lives being blamed on him instead?

“Stupid brat, you don’t get it regardless of what we say,” Ning Yingying said angrily. “Don’t you see that my shizun doesn’t know?”

Without hesitation, Qing Jing Peak’s disciples entered the fray as well. However, swords have no eyes, so lest Shen Qingqiu wanted to be stabbed, he had no time for careful thought. As this fight wouldn’t end if they continued as they were, he leapt out of the tavern, lightly calling back, “Come on out!”

As he’d hoped, both camps followed after him rather than go for each other, every disciple trying to squeeze out the door first.

But as soon as Shen Qingqiu made it onto the main street, he was dumbfounded.

A long row of cultivators dressed in various colors were waiting there, ready for battle, glaring like tigers eyeing their prey.

Fair enough. After all, they’d made such a large commotion in the tavern, it would have been pretty unscientific if they failed to draw the attention of other people, right…?

With a light push of his foot, Shen Qingqiu’s steps skimmed the roof tiles, and he landed on the eaves with a flip. He took a deep breath, then yelled from the pit of his stomach, “Liu! Qing! Ge!”

Someone flew up on their sword and angrily denounced him. “Shen Qingqiu, your heart is truly wicked. You purposefully fled to this city, drawing people from various sects here. Was it so you could collude with demons and, in one fell swoop, reenact the tragedy of the Immortal Alliance Conference? Whatever it takes, our Ba Qi Sect won’t let you succeed!”

So any and all accusations are perfectly acceptable, huh?!

Shen Qingqiu wasn’t even in the mood to rant.

Then from the east came the hiss of a sword glare, followed by a person in white who arrived on a sword, fast as lightning. Mind you, his descent was too forceful, pointlessly whipping up a powerful wind that threw the Ba Qi cultivator right off his own blade.

Liu Qingge stood securely on Cheng Luan with his arms crossed. “What is it?”

Too reliable, Great Master Liu!

Shen Qingqiu said with all sincerity, “Get me out of here.”

Liu Qingge stared.

“My poison flared up again, and I can’t summon the qi to fly my sword. If you don’t take me, I’ll just plummet from the skies.”

Liu Qingge let out a sigh. “Get on.”

The crowd gathered to watch from below berated them without rest, saying things like, “Cang Qiong Mountain abets and shelters evil!” and “Bai Zhan Peak and Qing Jing Peak wallow together in filth!”

But they both pretended that they couldn’t hear. Cheng Luan soared into the sky, the wind whistling in their ears, leaving the ten or so cultivators who chased them on swords far behind.

“Where to?” asked Liu Qingge.

“To the roof of the tallest building in the city,” said Shen Qingqiu. “After that, please help me hold off these people.”

“What exactly is up with you? If you didn’t wish to be imprisoned, why didn’t you say so earlier? You’ve made things so troublesome. Besides, even if Cang Qiong Mountain couldn’t navigate the Water Prison, couldn’t we have just destroyed it?”

“That… There was no need to destroy the Water Prison…”

“Get off.”

“I’m only saying there was no need. I’m still grateful for your kindness, so surely there’s no need to throw me down.”

“Something’s coming.”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t say another word and jumped off at once. The tip of his foot touched tile, and he stooped over on the roof of the building.

Cheng Luan’s momentum was incredibly powerful. Liu Qingge and his sword did a dazzling somersault in midair, and only then did he manage to brake, eyes fixed attentively elsewhere. Shen Qingqiu also followed his gaze.

Then he heard a sneer behind him. “Where are you looking?”

Shen Qingqiu nearly stumbled on the spot. That “You just wait and see!” hadn’t been just talk.

Then again, since when had anything about Luo Binghe been “just talk?”

He’d actually come to capture him, even braving the risk of Xin Mo’s recoil… How deep did his resentment run?

Luo Binghe glared fixedly at them, expression dark, then slowly extended a hand to Shen Qingqiu. “Come with me.”

“Gongyi Xiao is dead,” said Shen Qingqiu.

Luo Binghe went rigid.

“The disciples guarding the Water Prison are also dead,” he continued. “Luo Binghe, over a hundred Huan Hua Palace lives, all so I’d be hated and persecuted. Was it really worth it?”

Red flashed in Luo Binghe’s pupils. “Whatever, you won’t believe me regardless of what I say,” he said icily. “Then there’s no need for more pointless chatter! I’ll ask again: Will you come or not?”

He stubbornly refused to withdraw that hand. Shen Qingqiu had yet to answer when, out of nowhere, over ten people appeared, hemming them in on the roof while riding their swords.

The leader was again that man from Ba Qi Sect. This time, he’d lowered his center of gravity, basically crouched in horse stance upon his sword to prevent himself from being thrown off balance again. He shouted brashly, “Shen Qingqiu is ours, no one else should even think of—”

Luo Binghe abruptly turned his head and yelled, “Beat it!”

He hadn’t even drawn his sword, but from his body a powerful blast of spiritual energy burst forth, and a shrill, whistling shriek filled the ears of everyone on the scene. Every last one of the pursuers, along with their swords, was shoved over to fall several meters away. Half of them even slammed into walls or pillars, coughing up fresh blood.

The Ba Qi Sect had met someone genuinely “ba”-dass with overbearing “qi,” and they had been wiped out to the last. The remaining spectators were all terrified. This black-clothed young man’s cultivation was undeniably spectacular—how come so few of them had heard of him before?

Liu Qingge pushed Shen Qingqiu. “Go. Do what you need to do!”

“Can you handle this by yourself?!” Shen Qingqiu asked. Five-to-two, ah, five-to-two—he hadn’t forgotten these numbers. He’d only called Liu Qingge over to help him fight small fry and give him a lift along the way, not to meet a sudden, unfortunate end!

But neither of these two characters were the sort to in any way listen to others. At the first wrong word—no wait, without even a word, they started to fight.

Cheng Luan was incredibly powerful, but Luo Binghe didn’t draw his sword. He concentrated spiritual energy in his hand and used his open palm like a blade to meet it head-on.

Shen Qingqiu knew why Luo Binghe couldn’t draw his sword. In a duel between masters, one couldn’t afford a single error, and this was the sort of moment when it was easiest for Xin Mo to take advantage of an opening and invade its wielder’s mind. If Luo Binghe was possessed with demonic qi in plain view of everyone and his homicidal urges greatly increased, drawing the blade wouldn’t be worth it.

Luo Binghe’s body actually housed two sets of cultivation systems: one with spiritual qi, the other with demonic qi. Because his dual heritage had successfully integrated, these two systems didn’t interfere with one another, each operating in excellent form. When necessary, his left and right hands could even use two different attack types simultaneously in a display of power.

But right now, he couldn’t draw his sword, and circumstances made it inconvenient for him to access his demonic qi. Thus, his killing power was diminished. For once, he and Liu Qingge were evenly matched.

Deafening sounds shook the sky above the roof, white arcs and spiritual energy exploding together. Their duel was so fierce that none of the cultivators below them dared to rush in recklessly. Even the most inexperienced and undiscerning rookie could see that if one were to so much as graze either man’s roiling, murderous qi, they’d ascend right to heaven without any further need to cultivate.

Their fight was so fierce that Shen Qingqiu actually felt an answering urge—if not for Without a Cure having flared up at such an inopportune moment, he too would have wanted to enter the fray. But it was time. He squinted up at the sky, then leapt to the highest level of the building.

On the highest roof, a gale screamed; it felt like it could blow him right off.

Luo Binghe saw this from afar and was seized by impatience. No longer in the mood to fight, the malevolence in his eyes skyrocketed, and he reached for the hilt of the longsword on his back.

He’s actually going so far as to draw his sword here?!

“Luo Binghe, don’t be rash!” Shen Qingqiu called in a rush.

“Too late!” Luo Binghe said harshly. With a flip of his wrist, Xin Mo was drawn, wreathed in a dark, billowing qi visible to the naked eye.

Cheng Luan stabbed straight toward Luo Binghe. He gently flicked Xin Mo’s blade edge, which was as thin as a cicada’s wing. From the center oozed wave after wave of something like a chill, and Cheng Luan came to a complete, uncanny stop in midair.

Never once had Cheng Luan disobeyed Liu Qingge’s orders, and he couldn’t conceal his shock. But Shen Qingqiu knew that the situation was even more severe.

If Luo Binghe really was hit with Xin Mo’s recoil in this place, the lives of everyone on the scene, as well as in the entirety of Hua Yue City and within a fifty-kilometer radius, would be forfeit.

As a last resort, Shen Qingqiu unsheathed Xiu Ya. “Come here, Luo Binghe. Today, we must come to a resolution.”

Luo Binghe raised his head and gave him a dark look. In the next moment, he’d flashed forward to around a meter away. Then he raised his hand and drew a barrier that covered the entire roof, isolating them from everyone else. At last he smiled, expression twisted. “Resolution? How can this be resolved? Shizun, at this point, do you really think what’s between us can be settled cleanly?”

Why can’t it?

Shen Qingqiu breathed in lightly. Though he was clutching his sword, he had no intention of fighting. In truth, wielding this blade at this point would have no effect. “As things are now, there’s nothing I can say. Sure enough, even if we scheme until we’re exhausted, we cannot outwit fate.”

Luo Binghe chuckled. “Fate? What is fate? That which let a four-year-old child be humiliated while no one lent a hand to help? That which let an innocent old woman die of heartbreak and starvation?”

With each line, he stepped forward, menacing. “Or that which let me fight with dogs for scraps? Or let the person I wholeheartedly adored lie to me, abandon me, betray me, and shove me down into a place worse than purgatory with his own two hands?!

“Shizun, look at what I’ve become. Am I strong enough?

“Do you know how I spent those years within the Endless Abyss? For three years underground, at all times and all moments, my mind thought only of Shizun. I wondered why Shizun would do this to me, why he refused to give me even a single chance to explain or plead my case.

“You want me to concede that this was the fate the heavens ordained for me? I thought for such a long time, and I finally understood.” Within Luo Binghe’s smile there lay a spine-chilling malice. “None of that is important. It’s enough to just do what I want. Fate either never existed at all—or it’s something I should trample beneath my feet!”

With the scorching sun overhead, the last wisps of cloud had disappeared without a trace. Sunlight flooded through the entire city, its brilliance dazzling, like the entire land had been strewn with pure gold.

Shen Qingqiu turned his gaze away from the sky. Because he’d been staring straight at the sun, unexpectedly, some tears glistened in his vision.

Even though he’d had no other choice, he frankly was greatly responsible for Luo Binghe having reached this point; he had become a dark young man who thought only of revenge on society. Originally, Shen Qingqiu had wanted to stop Luo Binghe from going to such extremes, but everything he had done had not only failed to have a positive effect, it had actually etched Luo Binghe’s hatred and resentment even deeper into his bones.

Luo Binghe saw how Shen Qingqiu’s expression softened without warning and couldn’t help but startle. However, in that same moment, an incredible pain assailed his head. He clenched his teeth, his hand clutching tightly around Xin Mo, which was trying to break free.

No. He couldn’t take the recoil here, at least not at this moment!

To his shock, Shen Qingqiu gently said: “Don’t let it overpower your mind.”

Upon hearing this voice, in his daze, Luo Binghe was transported to those years on Qing Jing Peak.

It became increasingly harder for him to control himself. There seemed to be a sharp knife churning within his brain, and Xin Mo’s black flames suddenly surged.

The assault this time was ferocious. Luo Binghe was in unbearable agony—when unexpectedly, someone tenderly embraced his shoulders.

What followed was a blast of spiritual qi akin to the collapse of a thousand-kilometer dike, like a rainstorm after a long drought. It poured into Luo Binghe’s body like a flood, extinguishing Xin Mo’s malevolence, with which he had reached a deadlock.

Luo Binghe’s breathing evened out, returning to normal, but his heart went cold.

Self-detonation.

Some in the crowd below were already yelling in shock. “Shen Qingqiu self-detonated!”

Shen Qingqiu let go of Luo Binghe and slowly backed away, staggering once.

Xiu Ya fell first. Its master’s spiritual energy was gone, and a sword exists with its master. The blade shattered into multiple pieces in midair.

Shen Qingqiu had always been in the bad habit of swallowing his blood, but at this moment, he could no longer choke it down.

Having totally exhausted his spiritual energy, he was now lesser than even a common person, a mere ruined shell. His voice was light and fluttering, the wind blowing most of it away, yet Luo Binghe could hear him just as distinctly as before.

What he said was, “For all that has passed, I repay you today.”

Think of it as me doing one good thing at the end.

Then he toppled backward and off the building.

At first, Luo Binghe only blankly watched. Everything playing out before his eyes was now many times slower. Even the moment in which Shen Qingqiu fell slowed until it was crystal clear.

The body dropping in midair was like a bloodstained paper kite. Only when Luo Binghe’s body started moving by itself, scrambling to catch Shen Qingqiu before he hit the ground, did he finally discover that Shen Qingqiu’s torso was light and insubstantial, his entire body empty, without a wisp of spiritual energy. He truly was akin to a paper kite, liable to be ripped with the slightest force.

In fact, one wouldn’t need force. It had already fallen apart.

Luo Binghe was still in disbelief.

Didn’t Shizun hate his blood more than anything? Wasn’t he unwilling to even be near him, to associate with him at all?

So why, at the last moment, had he so gently helped to contain Luo Binghe’s mind, as tender as he had been in those years long past?

Why hadn’t he hesitated to help Luo Binghe suppress Xin Mo’s recoil, to the point of destroying his own spiritual energy?

All around him, people seemed to be muttering things like “execute the demon,” and “eliminate your own for the sake of justice.”

Luo Binghe’s mind was in a muddle. He could only hold Shen Qingqiu and mumble, “Shizun?”

The Qing Jing Peak disciples had fought the Huan Hua Palace disciples the entire way and finally arrived. Ning Yingying had by now heard that Luo Binghe was alive. She was both surprised by and happy at this sudden reunion, but then she saw Shen Qingqiu, his eyes peacefully closed. The words she’d been about to say took a turn, and she said in a trembling voice, “A-Luo… Shizun… What happened to him?”

Liu Qingge walked forward, a smear of blood lingering by his lips. His expression was heavy as he said, “He’s dead.”

The disciples were dumbstruck.

“Who killed him?!” Ming Fan suddenly yelled.

The crowd’s gaze focused on Luo Binghe.

Strictly speaking, Luo Binghe hadn’t killed Shen Qingqiu, but Shen Qingqiu had indeed self-detonated and died before him.

The disciples behind Ming Fan drew their swords, about to attack, when Liu Qingge said, “You can’t defeat him.”

Ming Fan’s eyes were bright red. “Liu-shishu! Then surely Liu-shishu can kill him to avenge Shizun, right?!”

“I can’t defeat him either,” Liu Qingge said lightly.

Ming Fan choked.

Liu Qingge wiped away the blood by his mouth. “Neither did he kill Shen Qingqiu. …However, though he didn’t kill Shen Qingqiu, Shen Qingqiu did indeed die because of him.” Each of Liu Qingge’s words was like a knife drawn from a sheath. “Cang Qiong Mountain must avenge this grudge!”

Luo Binghe turned a deaf ear to it all. His mind was entirely a mess and totally at a loss, and he still held Shen Qingqiu’s rapidly cooling body. It seemed like he wanted to call out to Shen Qingqiu, to shake him awake, but also didn’t dare to, as if he were afraid of being scolded. He murmured, “Shizun?”

“Stop calling him Shizun,” Ming Fan snapped. “Shizun can’t bear such a burden! My brethren, let’s fight together. So what if we can’t defeat him, what more can he do than kill us?!”

Ning Yingying spread her arms to stop him. Ming Fan was furious and agitated. He thought that Ning Yingying was still clinging to old affections. “Shimei, look what it’s come to. How come you still don’t get it?”

“You shut up,” said Ning Yingying. “What would Shizun think if you rushed to your death like this? If he heard, what would he say? Shizun would rather be infected than see us taken advantage of or bullied, yet you’d throw your life away so easily?”

All these years, Ning Yingying had always had the charming attitude of a young maiden. At these abrupt, harsh words, Ming Fan halted.

After a long while, tears burst forth and flowed down his face. Sobbing, he wept miserably. “But this… It’s so unfair to Shizun… Even though he absolutely didn’t collude with demons, everyone kept saying that he did—that he was a killer, a degenerate—and they threw him in the Water Prison… He didn’t even get a chance to clear his name.”

He choked on his sobs. “Even though he obviously loved this brat so much… At the Immortal Alliance Conference, he bet five thousand spirit stones on him without hesitation—his hopes for him were that high! Whenever anyone praised him, Shizun would be so happy… And afterward, he refused to return Zheng Yang to Wan Jian Peak and insisted on keeping it so he could erect a sword mound on the back of the mountain… He was heartbroken for so long… And in the end, this is what he got!”

Luo Binghe listened in a trance, unsure if this was illusion or reality.

Is that so? At that time, Shizun too was…utterly heartbroken?

Ning Yingying stepped toward Luo Binghe. Her eyes were red, but her words and breathing were steady. “A-Luo, we weren’t there for the Jin Lan City incident, but we all heard about it. I don’t know why you didn’t return to Cang Qiong Mountain despite being alive, and I don’t know why you wouldn’t stand up for Shizun, and I certainly don’t know what happened at the Immortal Alliance Conference. But Shizun’s kindness when he raised and nurtured you, and his feelings when he doted on and protected you, those weren’t fake. Everyone knows; we saw for ourselves.”

After a pause, she continued. “If you feel that the Shizun in the old days didn’t treat you well, then think back on the day you lost your jade pendant. Our shixiong inexplicably backed off all at once. You yourself knew there was something strange, right? No one else on Qing Jing Peak would turn leaves into weapons for the purpose of teaching a small lesson.”

Luo Binghe involuntarily clutched Shen Qingqiu tighter. He whispered, “I was wrong, Shizun, I really…know I was wrong. I…I never wanted to kill you…”

“My words end here,” Ning Yingying declared. “If Shizun really did wrong you in some way, and you can’t under any circumstances forgive him, then at least today he finally repaid it all, right? So from now on, you…” At this point, she couldn’t take it anymore and turned her head away. “I ask that you…stop calling him ‘Shizun.’”

“Repaid?”

That’s right. Moments ago, Shizun had said something about repaying him.

Had Shen Qingqiu been saying…that in exchange for pushing Luo Binghe into the Endless Abyss, he would also fall for his sake?

Luo Binghe started to panic.

“I don’t want you to repay me. I…I just couldn’t get over my anger.” He was speaking to himself. “I couldn’t get over it. Whenever you saw me, you acted like you’d seen a ghost. Then you would happily smile and laugh with others, when in the past you only did that with me. And to me—you would say only the bare minimum to me. And you kept suspecting me of everything… But I was wrong.” He stammered and stuttered, talking as he wiped the blood away from Shen Qingqiu’s face.

“You disdained me for being a demon, so I was afraid that if I returned directly to Cang Qiong Mountain, you’d throw me out. I thought that if I took over Huan Hua Palace and became like you, a leader of righteous cultivators, I could maybe make you happy…”

Luo Binghe’s voice trembled. “Shizun… I…I really…”