The pair wandered everywhere, making the world their home.
Later, Song Qingshi unexpectedly saved an elderly Sword Master who had been severely injured by a rebel. This old Master, surnamed Mo, had killed the ill-behaved rebel and now sought a new disciple with better character...
He looked at Song Qingshi and Wuhuan—one blind, the other mute...
Silence is golden; swordsmanship doesn't require speech. What matters is perseverance and dedication.
Without hesitation, the old Sword Master chose Song Qingshi, who, although small in stature, seemed obedient and honest.
Song Qingshi considered this a boon of his magical array skills and studied diligently. During the lectures, he would thoughtfully jot down various questions: What angle does the Slanted Strike take? Forty-five degrees or thirty-five? Is the "Triangle Formation" equilateral or isosceles? What is the angle bisector? What are the velocity parameters for changing the orbit? Inward first or outward? Which position? How many seconds each time?
After reading the paper filled with questions, the old Sword Master thought for a moment and gravely said, "Perhaps I should just teach the blind one."
Song Qingshi was unceremoniously expelled from his apprenticeship and returned to his research on herbal medicine, disheartened.
The old Sword Master was amazed to discover that although Wuhuan was blind, his talent was exceptional. He never made a mistake after being taught once and could even extrapolate from what he'd learned. His keen senses surpassed ordinary people a hundredfold. The old Master increasingly took pleasure in teaching Wuhuan, nearly treating him as his own son, imparting all of his lifelong knowledge in the hope that Wuhuan would grasp the true Way of the Sword Heart.
This was the lifelong pursuit of every swordsman.
First master the sword form, then the sword intent, and finally, cultivate the sword heart to break through all obstacles and reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship.
...
Time flew by in Peach Blossom Valley.
Day and night, Wuhuan devoted himself tirelessly to sword practice. Song Qingshi stood by his side for ten years, focusing on alchemy. Using the old Sword Master's connections and resources, he gathered numerous materials to create a variety of precious elixirs. These elixirs expanded Wuhuan's meridians, aiding his cultivation and accelerating his progress. In doing so, Song Qingshi delayed his own cultivation, slowing down his progress considerably.
Eventually, Wuhuan formed his Golden Core.
Overjoyed, the old Sword Master changed his name to Mo Yuan.
Song Qingshi was dumbfounded.
"I never knew the origin of my previous name; if discovered, it might tarnish Master's reputation," Wuhuan readily agreed. "From now on, I wish to erase that part of my history and sever all ties with the past."
Although the town was small and he never took clients under the name of Tianxiang Tower, thereby keeping a low profile, his unsavory past, combined with his unforgettable beauty, left a lasting impression on all who met him.
Now that he had grown and matured into even more dazzling beauty, even disguising himself with ointments to darken his face when going out did not deter men and women from seeking his affection or love. Occasionally, some brutes, taking advantage of his blindness, would try to force themselves on him. He transformed these villains into fodder for sword practice or poison testing.
If he doesn't change his name, the danger lies in being recognized for his past if he gains fame in the world of swordsmanship. That would put concrete evidence into the hands of gossip-mongers, sparking dangerous rumors.
Who would believe that someone with a history as a male courtesan could maintain integrity? It would only attract unwanted attention, stirring up unnecessary trouble.
Song Qingshi understood the logic behind the old Sword Master and Wuhuan's thoughts. He attempted to argue: Can we choose another name?
He had read about the glorious history of Sword Master Mo Yuan in books and was even living within Mo Yuan's magical formation. Though it seemed like fate, a vague feeling in his fragmented memory hinted that Mo Yuan's end might have been that of madness.
No! This name is too ominous!
Song Qingshi expressed his protest by writing on wooden boards, but the communication was frustratingly inefficient.
The old Sword Master, perplexed and slightly angered, said, "What objections do you have to the name I've chosen? It was the name of my late son! Is it that unpleasant to you?"
Song Qingshi stubbornly held up boards with alternative names: Mozi, Moyou, Momo, Moyu, Moxiaohei.
The old Sword Master smacked him on the head, chastising, "You might as well rename yourself 'Moyu' (loafing around)!"
After reading the names on the wooden boards, Wuhuan took a long pause before cautiously saying, "I think Mo Yuan is quite good."
This matter, much like Song Qingshi's inability to speak, seemed like a fixed plotline in the memory of Sword Master Mo Yuan. No matter how he struggled, Wuhuan's new name was quickly decided. Although Song Qingshi still insisted on calling him Wuhuan, being mute rendered his objections meaningless...
Song Qingshi was dejected for many days. Finally, he rallied his spirits; the tale of Sword Master Mo Yuan had already become history, and sorrow would serve no purpose. If this was indeed a memory, he wanted to figure out how things had spiraled to such an end, to see if he could change Wuhuan's fate within this illusion.
Whether it was reality or illusion, he didn't want to give up the hope of Wuhuan finding happiness.
...
A good swordsman sharpens his blade with the blood of formidable enemies.
After the old Sword Master passed away peacefully, Song Qingshi accompanied Wuhuan as they left Peach Blossom Valley.
The world of cultivation was a dark one; one had unparalleled beauty, and the other possessed a water-based singular spiritual root suitable for alchemy. Both were baits for evildoers. They encountered many nefarious individuals who tried to deceive, rob, or capture them—every sort of vile act was perpetrated.
Wuhuan's sword became increasingly sharp, stained with ever more blood, and his reputation grew louder by the day.
Song Qingshi roamed everywhere, collecting materials for the Xuántiān Tàimíng Pill. He had procured the Purple Spirit Grass and the Bodhi Stone but was distressed over the lack of any news concerning the thousand-year-old turtle's inner elixir.
Wuhuan had long learned to discern his surroundings using his spiritual sense, and thus was no longer concerned about his blindness. His personality had grown more lively, often joking with Song Qingshi, pinching his face and belly, and weighing him before bed every night. If he found that Song had gained weight, he would be satisfied; if not, he'd fret and press Song to eat better.
During their travels, he had heard people disparage Song Qingshi's appearance. Even the old Sword Master would often say that Song looked scrawny and unimpressive, lacking in charisma.
Perhaps... Song Qingshi was not that handsome...
But no matter what Song looked like, Wuhuan loved him just the same! He despised anyone who spoke ill of Song!
He was always irritated with the old Sword Master for his comments.
Eventually, the old Sword Master ceased making such remarks.
Wuhuan didn't fully understand his feelings toward Song, but the faint scent of herbs that always lingered around him had seeped into his heart, entangling him in an unbreakable bond. Sometimes, selfishly, he thought it was good that Song wasn't attractive to others—then he could keep him all to himself.
But he knew such thoughts were wrong; constant criticism about one's appearance could be disheartening.
If a fat cat was deemed adorable by everyone, wouldn't a plumper human also be endearing?
Wuhuan diligently prepared all sorts of delicious food, aiming to plump up Song into an adorable chubster. Unfortunately, due to Song's physiology, no amount of eating significantly changed his weight. Although his flesh felt well-proportioned to the touch and cuddling him was rather comfortable, he was still far from the fluffy standard of cuteness.
Song began to wear veils or bamboo hats when going out, avoiding crowds.
Wuhuan thought he was self-conscious about his appearance and grew more concerned. He refrained from bringing up the subject, opting instead to intensify his culinary efforts. He not only diversified his dessert recipes but also sought out delicacies, coaxing Song to eat extra bites—he was only short of spoon-feeding him.
Song Qingshi was flattered. Each day he'd pat his rounded belly, acknowledging a unique kind of hunger—the kind where Wuhuan still felt he hadn't eaten enough.
As they traveled, collecting herbs and savoring delicacies, they finally learned the whereabouts of the millennial-old turtle.
Inside a cave at Moon Banquet River, there lived a turtle of unknown age. However, the cave seemed to have an unsettling effect; many who ventured in developed mental issues. Wuhuan, knowing Song Qingshi had been preparing a sight-restoring elixir for him, also yearned to see the person most important to him. After discussing the risks, and comparing Wuhuan's age with the historical records of Sword Master Mo Yuan, Song decided it was safe to slay the turtle for its inner elixir.
In the annals of history, Sword Master Mo Yuan was not blind.
Song Qingshi felt rather confident about this venture.
The duo easily entered the water but unexpectedly encountered two water monsters. During the scuffle, one monster was injured and caused a massive wave, sweeping Wuhuan into the cave and out of sight. Song was ensnared by the monster's tentacles and couldn't come to the rescue. In desperation, he unleashed his ghostly fire, poisoning and killing one monster, even taking its water elemental orb as nourishment for his spiritual roots.
The water monsters seemed to be mates; when one died, the other grew furious.
In the water, the monster was nearly transparent, its movements unpredictable and elusive.
Song Qing Shi battled the wretched beast for an extended period, sustaining numerous injuries before finally driving it off as dusk settled. He then rushed into the cave, searching for Wu Huan's whereabouts.
He found Wu Huan sitting dazed next to the mangled remains of a turtle, covered in blood. Wu Huan seemed to be in a trance, and the sight sent a jolt of alarm through Song Qing Shi.
Carefully approaching, he was relieved to discover that the blood covering Wu Huan came from the turtle.
Song Qing Shi gently tapped Wu Huan's face and wrote on his palm: "Are you alright?"
"Qing...Qing Shi?" Wu Huan seemed to snap out of a nightmare, gripping Song Qing Shi's hand tightly. "My stone is still..." His speech was disjointed, his breathing labored. He clung so tightly that he nearly broke Song Qing Shi's wrist but wouldn't let go.
Pain shot through Song Qing Shi, but seeing Wu Huan's unstable mental state, he dared not struggle, fearing it might worsen the situation.
Wu Huan pulled him close, holding him tightly, almost as if he wanted to absorb him into his very being. Confused about how to go about it, he kept fumbling in his embrace.
Song Qing Shi felt like his ribs were going to snap from the pressure, tears of pain welling in his eyes. He felt like crying but dared not.
After what felt like an eternity, Wu Huan gradually came to his senses, as if remembering how to properly hold someone. He cradled Song Qing Shi's face, nuzzled it, took in his scent, and then kissed his soft lips deeply, prying open his mouth to seek more—be it emotional or physical, he wanted all of it for himself.
He understood the desires in his heart and his feelings for Song Qing Shi.
He was like a ravenous beast, insistent, begging, desiring, invading, devouring, and seizing...
The young man briefly struggled but quickly gave up resistance, surrendering almost everything while gasping in his arms.
"I'm...I'm sorry," Wu Huan finally snapped back to reality, checking his almost uncontrollable desire. "There's a strange enchantment here that threw me into a nightmarish illusion," he apologized repeatedly, hastily redressing Song Qing Shi.
Song Qing Shi wrote on his palm: "What did you dream about?"
Wu Huan hesitated for a long time before finally saying, "In the illusion, you died over and over again..."
The Nightmare Heart-Eater Formation dredged up his deepest fears. He dreamt of loving Song Qing Shi only to lose him instantly; of the scent of blood, of warm hands turning cold, of breaths ceasing. He held the lifeless young man time and time again, feeling as if he'd lost everything, as if the world had ended.
His breathing quickened again, the pain unbearable even though he knew it was an illusion.
Song Qing Shi held him tightly and wrote on his palm: "Think, what gave it away?"
"In the nightmare, you lacked the scent of medicinal herbs," Wu Huan finally said, burying his head in Song Qing Shi's shoulder. He gripped his warm hand tightly, sniffing the faint fragrance, his voice tinged with sobs, "So, I knew it was a lie. You are still here with me..."
Knowing Wu Huan disliked displaying vulnerability, Song Qing Shi didn't look down. Instead, he gently patted Wu Huan's shoulder to comfort him while using his spiritual energy to stabilize Wu Huan's turbulent emotions.
Over and over, Wu Huan repeated: "You're still here..."
Song Qing Shi embraced him.
Time passed, the duration indeterminate, until Wu Huan finally regained his composure.
Raising his head shyly, his eyes tinged with red, Wu Huan handed a Millennium Turtle Elixir to Song Qing Shi. With hesitance, he asked, "This is the final ingredient for the Xuan Tian Tai Ming Pill. With it, will I be able to see you?"
Song Qing Shi nodded.
"Qing Shi, if I regain my sight, I'll no longer be a burden. I'll strive to be better. So, may I have feelings for you?" Wu Huan pondered for a while before asking cautiously, "Qing Shi, may I become your Daoist companion?"
His recent fervor had already laid bare his more aggressive nature, no longer veiling it with the guise of innocence.
He was uncertain if the young man would be willing to accept this side of him.
"Don't fear me; don't leave me," Wu Huan said softly, lowering his head. "If you don't want this, we can continue as we are now."
He was willing to restrain all his instincts.
As long as the young man stayed by his side, he would agree to anything.
Song Qing Shi took his hand and gently wrote: "I'm willing."
Wu Huan suddenly felt as if the nightmare had lifted, and the whole world had brightened.