When Song Qing Shi awoke, he found it was already late into the night. Confused, he examined the decor of the Tian Wu Gate guest room before recognizing the Night Pearl lamp on the table, a product of the Tian Gong Workshop, as opposed to an oil lamp or candle. That snapped him back to full consciousness.
He jumped off the bed anxiously, barefoot, and began searching. There he was, sitting casually on a chaise lounge by the window, draped in a red brocade robe. The moonlight highlighted his stunning features, his golden phoenix-like eyes filled with depth, and his slightly curled hair loosely tied beside his ears. The youthful aura had faded, replaced by a more imposing presence.
Was this Feng Jun, Mo Yuan, or Wu Huan?
Song Qing Shi cautiously approached and dipped his finger into some spiritual tea, intending to write a question on the table.
"You can speak now," the man said, awakened from his thoughts upon seeing Song Qing Shi's attempt to communicate.
Only then did Song Qing Shi realize that he was no longer mute. He hurriedly vocalized a few sounds to practice his speech, spending some time to regain the ability. Finally, he softly called out: "Wu... Wu Huan."
That was the name he longed to call.
The Divine Lord did not deny it but simply took his hand gently, placing it in the palm of his own and holding it tight.
"I'm sorry," said Song Qing Shi, recognizing the familiar action and understanding that the other person knew what he had done in the Mo Yuan formation. Inside that magical space, his dulled heart had endured hundreds of tasks. Now, as the dust settled, the pain of hundreds of failures cascaded upon him, dull at first, but deepening until it reached his core. He whimpered, attempting to stifle his surging tears but ultimately failing, breaking down into uncontrollable sobs. "I'm sorry; I'm so foolish. I tried my best but couldn't solve the puzzle. I'm sorry for all the suffering I've caused you."
His cries became incoherent; he couldn't make sense of what he was saying.
"Don't be sad; I'm back now," the Divine Lord said, understanding that Song Qing Shi needed to release pent-up emotions. He didn't try to stop him but instead held him tightly, gently caressing his back, patiently waiting for him to release all the accumulated pain until he was firmly grounded in reality again.
Song Qing Shi cried for a long time before gradually stopping.
Clinging tightly to the warm hand, he verified that the person was still there with him, never lost. His eyes were filled with questions.
"Once inside the formation, I wasn't given random tasks but was directly attached to Wu Huan. I despised that former life and initially wanted to exit but stayed when I realized you were there. I watched as events unfolded, feeling them, yet unable to control their course," the Divine Lord explained once Song Qing Shi had calmed down. "Your efforts to save me, your happiness when we got engaged, thrilled me. I thought that even if the future for Mo Yuan was bleak, it would be okay. But the final turn was too painful to bear."
Song Qing Shi apologized again: "I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize; you're not the one at fault," the Divine Lord inhaled deeply. "When you first failed, I was infuriated. I hated destiny, the tasks, and even my past self. But seeing you choose to restart, I curiously stayed my actions."
And so, he watched as Song Qing Shi started again and again, failing each time.
The same beginnings, different failures. Yet, Song Qing Shi never abandoned his efforts to save him.
What was the cause of these failures?
His initial anger gradually subsided, and he finally understood the true purpose of the Mo Yuan formation.
The only person who truly understands you is yourself.
The Mo Yuan formation was not a test for Song Qing Shi but rather an answer left for himself.
"The unfairness of destiny and tasks is one thing, but the real failure lies in me," he admitted. "I like you very much, and I would give you everything: emotions, life, soul. But what I haven't given you is trust."
His intelligence, pride, and self-assurance prevented him from facing errors and failures.
His disbelief in Song Qing Shi's tasks and feelings resulted in an unsolvable outcome.
The invisible hand of fate exploited his perfectionism and aversion to imperfection, making it easy to watch him ensnare himself in self-loathing and despair, even when a lifeline appeared.
It was utterly foolish.
"Obsession comes from fear; evasion comes from inferiority," the Divine Lord finally bared his soul, confronting the darkness within. "I'm afraid that your feelings for me are but a beautiful mistake, that you'll forget me when you find the right answer, or that you might love someone else or be loved by someone else. I'm most afraid that you'll one day understand what true perfection is, realize my imperfections, and then leave me disappointed."
Song Qing Shi shook his head fervently, indicating that he never would.
Mo Yuan met his end in a frenzied spree of slaughter, but just before dying, he glimpsed the grand scheme of things. He understood that the task Song Qing Shi had spoken of was real, but it was too late for redemption. He created this Hu Sheng, sealing his memories within and setting up an insolvable task.
The task could only be activated by Song Qing Shi's two unique flames, but the target was his future self.
What Mo Yuan intended for himself to witness was Song Qing Shi's relentless quest for redemption, which would ultimately unlock his own stubborn and obsessive heart.
One hundred and twenty-seven cycles of tasks.
No matter how difficult or painful the tasks, regardless of whether he was a blind man or the filthy Wu Huan, no matter how low he had fallen, or how beautiful or ugly he was, irrespective of the darkness within him or how many mistakes he had made, he was the one who was chosen, the one who was treated with complete sincerity.
Song Qing Shi was constantly striving to pull him out of the abyss.
So, don't be afraid; he will never give up on you.
The Divine Lord flipped over Song Qing Shi's palm, softly caressing the back of his hand. After gaining permission with a glance, he rebranded the soul mark.
Two peach blossom tattoos, now almost blood-red, had already been bound through lifetimes of entanglement.
His smile was sadder than any tears: "How many lifetimes have we been Daoist companions to have such a mark?"
"I've, I've said," Song Qing Shi, still adjusting to his newfound ability to speak, made an effort to say, "Wu Huan, I like you."
He was the most stubborn person in the world; his affections, once given, would never change.
Song Qing Shi was somewhat aggrieved: "I've said it many, many times that I like you."
Saying anything more than three times means it's important; he thought he had made himself clear enough, yet the other still seemed somewhat oblivious.
The Divine Lord calculated: "In this world, you've said it a hundred and eighty-four times."
He had remembered each instance.
Song Qing Shi was taken aback; he had lost part of his memory and couldn't quite recall everything. Still, he felt he probably hadn't said it that frequently, had he?
Recalling those pleasant memories, the Divine Lord explained, "You like to say it in bed."
Understanding dawned on Song Qing Shi, who candidly confessed: "I was probably begging for mercy..."
The Divine Lord was stunned.
Song Qing Shi felt unbearably awkward, scratching the ground in his mind. Having already spoken, he had no choice but to explain, "They say a man should never be found lacking in bed, so... so I was too embarrassed to say it directly..."
He had learned painful lessons in Mo Yuan's memory. Sword cultivators are reckless individuals who fear nothing. Initially, his cultivation level was not high and he had not focused on physical conditioning, resulting in situations where he was left completely exhausted and speechless. On several occasions, he nearly fainted. At that time, he thought about writing this sentiment on a wooden plaque as a more tactful request, hoping Mo Yuan would be more forgiving for the sake of his affection. But the idea felt strange, so he never acted on it. It wasn't until later, when he had raised his cultivation level and strengthened his body through medicinal means, that he adapted.
Song Qing Shi confessed the truth and felt as if his dignity had been swept away. He lowered his head, his face flushed with embarrassment.
The deity was amused by him, lifting the previously oppressive atmosphere.
Seeing the other party stifling a laugh, Song Qing Shi's face flushed even redder as he earnestly promised, "I will focus on body cultivation."
"Hmm, I'm no longer afraid. No matter how many missions or cycles of reincarnation, I believe you'll come find me and save me," said the deity, halting his laughter and speaking sincerely. "Qing Shi, from now on, I will trust your emotions, trust every word you say, and won't interfere with your missions anymore. So, let's be honest with each other and discuss everything openly to try to break this loathsome cycle of fate."
Song Qing Shi solemnly pledged, "If the mission fails, I'll be annihilated alongside you."
After a long moment of thought, the deity responded, "Okay."
"The first step in honesty," Song Qing Shi posed the most crucial question, "Tell me, what is your real name?"
Names are important. Whether it's Mo Yuan or Feng Jun, both are products of a cowardice unable to confront the past.
If one cannot face the darkness or their true self, they will forever be entrapped by the darkness, toyed with by the capricious hand of fate.
The deity hesitated for a moment and then began to smile softly:
"My name is Yue Wu Huan."
No sooner had the words left his lips than the young man's tender lips met his own, before joyfully proclaiming aloud:
"Wu Huan, I like you."
"Wu Huan, I like you."
"Wu Huan, I like you."
The most important things must be said three times.
This time, don't misunderstand.
Let's work hard together.