HE GLANCED DOWN and did a violent double-take. The blood in his veins seemed to run backward as buzzing filled his skull. In his hand was the very blade that had accompanied him in countless battles: the holy weapon Bugui!
In the darkness, the pitch-black, single-edged blade glinted with sinister light. It had no scabbard, just a slender yet sturdy hilt; on the gold band of that hilt was engraved in a strong hand: Bugui.
Our past lies on a vermilion bridge in emerald fields
Another year gone, yet still I wait, for you do not return. 3
It was as though Mo Ran had been struck by lightning. The pupils of his eyes shrank to pinpricks, and his stricken face was paler than a corpse's, his expression more ferocious than a vengeful ghost's.
"No… No, it can't… No…not this!"
He flung Bugui to the ground in despair, but the holy weapon was attuned to him; it immediately returned to his waist.
"It can't be!" Mo Ran frantically summoned Jiangui, hysterically calling for it over and over, desperate for the red willow vine to manifest in his hand. But it was to no avail. Jiangui didn't answer. All he had was Bugui.
" Now do you believe me?"
The shadow of the restless spirit coalesced again, more quickly than before. In no time at all it formed the shape of four limbs, a torso, a head…
Mo Ran refused to believe it. He refused. He turned away from that black cloud and sprinted toward the source of the bright light. This was some illusion laid down by Xu Shuanglin… It was all just an illusion…
As long as he made it to the light, this nightmare would end. He ran, dashing madly toward escape, only to be caught by a hand on his arm, tightly gripping him.
"Get lost!" Mo Ran shoved it away with a snarl. "Go away! What's real? How would you know better than me? I know what's real! He's good to me, that's real! He's not dead, that's real! All he and I have gone through these past few years, how could any of it not be real?! Jincheng Lake; Peach Blossom Springs; the ghost realm; Butterfly Town, when we were wed—"
A gentle laugh interrupted him, then words, soft as a sigh: "A-Ran, the one you wed was me. How could you forget?"
Mo Ran jerked around. The shadowy figure was now fully formed: an exquisitely painted face, indescribably charming, a beauty beyond compare. She sidled closer, her hairpins of jade and pearl swaying, dressed in the same scarlet wedding robes she'd worn at their wedding.
"When I could walk no farther at Dawning Peak, it was you who carried me. You wanted me to call you A-Ran instead of Your Majesty. Have you forgotten?"
Her smile was as soft as ribbon grass, but the grip of her hand was terrifyingly strong. Mo Ran jerked away from her. This couldn't be Song Qiutong. The fingers on his arm pressed tight enough to leave bruises.
He went on, one foot after another… That white light was getting closer, closer. Somehow, in the midst of this darkness, he knew this was the exit. Toward the light… He only needed to get there…
From behind him, he heard Song Qiutong laugh. "Your Majesty,
where are you going? Chu Wanning is dead. You killed him. Are you really going back there?"
Mo Ran hesitated. "Back there is…"
He didn't hear the rest. Mo Ran tore free from the grasping restraints of those vicious shadows and ran, shoving the sound of her voice to the back of his mind. That clean sunlight grew brighter and stronger before him. He was like a man drowning in the depths of the ocean, struggling and kicking with all his might toward the wavering, scattered light of the surface.
He broke through and the darkness abruptly vanished. His legs trembled as he panted, gulping in air like he really had emerged from the water. The sudden brightness disoriented him; he raised his arms to shield his eyes. A few moments later, he heard the sound of birds chirping and smelled the delicate scent of xifu haitang.
Mo Ran cracked his eyes open… Where was he?
The first thing he saw was a flourishing haitang tree, its branches heavy with pale-pink blossoms like an embroidered dawn. This wasn't the Nangong ancestral temple. The illusion…still hadn't ended?
But his mind was already falling to pieces. He was suddenly uncertain who he was, uncertain what was a dream and what reality. As he sat up, a withered haitang blossom that had rested on the tip of his nose drifted to land on his knee.
Wait, sat up?
Only then did Mo Ran realize he'd been lying down, as if he'd just woken from a nightmare. He glanced around and realized he was at the foot of the Heaven-Piercing Tower, sitting within an open, black-lacquered coffin.
In an instant, his entire body went cold, all the way to the tips of his fingers. He sat in a daze for a long moment, then frantically, gracelessly, crawled out of the coffin. He saw a blank tablet on the ground, along with a bowl of wontons and several other plates of side dishes, all his favorites. He stared at the dishes, then at the coffin.
No… No, the nightmare continued.
He'd fallen even deeper, it seemed. Or perhaps he'd finally woken up. Had everything the shadow said been the truth? Had he really taken the poison and lain down at the foot of the Heaven-Piercing Tower to dream a long, long dream? Had everything in the dream been only…
Mo Ran didn't dare follow that line of thought to its end. He clambered to his feet, dashing toward the southern peak.
This didn't match his memories of the time before his death. He distinctly recalled sending everyone away that last year, but as he ran, a retinue of attendants appeared, headed by Old Liu, the same Old Liu who had served him for so many years. The old man held a box, and on his wrinkled face was a beaming smile.
"Your Majesty! The resurrection pill has been found! We've got it right here!"
Mo Ran froze.
The attendants all went to their knees, offering their congratulations.
Old Liu, too, was kneeling, offering up the brocade box in trembling, wizened hands. "It's the resurrection pill," he said hoarsely, "for which Your Majesty has searched so long. The gods are gracious; here it is…"
"This isn't…" Mo Ran said numbly. "I—didn't I chase you all off the mountain?"
The attendants blanched and kowtowed. "Your Majesty," Old Liu anxiously answered. "Why would you send us away? Has…has your
humble servant not served you well? Your humble servant—" "What about the ten great sects?"
Old Liu was baffled. "Ten great sects?" He raised his head, confused. "Your Majesty, is something the matter?"
He'd never be able to explain it—instead he dragged Old Liu to the base of the Heaven-Piercing Tower to show him. As they emerged from the woods, he gestured at the grave in front of the tower. "See for yourself. I was just sleeping in that—"
His coffin and tombstone were nowhere to be seen. There were just the two solitary graves of the empress and consort, their tombstones inscribed with his own childish, dogged scrawl.
Mo Ran stared, flummoxed.
"Your Majesty," Old Liu asked once more, worry plain on his face. "What's wrong?"
"I…" Mo Ran stared at those graves in a daze, his mind all ajumble.
In one moment, he could see that this was some kind of phantasm, but in the next, it felt real. He couldn't discern reality from illusion, couldn't tell where he was, when he was.
"Your Majesty must be very troubled indeed," Old Liu sighed. "Did you have a bad dream?"
"It wasn't a dream…" Mo Ran mumbled. He shook his head and continued, face pale. "No, it has to be the dream…" he muttered incoherently, then snapped around and fixed his stare on Old Liu. "Where's the resurrection pill?"
Old Liu proffered the box.
Instead of taking the box from his hands, Mo Ran opened it. Within lay a single pearlescent pill, gleaming with a gentle, jade-like luster.
Swallowing hard, he plucked it out with trembling fingers, then set out for the Red Lotus Pavilion.
He was stopped in his tracks by Old Liu. Mo Ran turned back, his nerves so taut they were close to snapping. "What is it?"
"Your Majesty," Old Liu began. His face, which held its habitual affableness just moments ago, had grown dark, and something sinister glinted treacherously in his eyes. "Aren't you going in the wrong direction?"
"What do you mean, the wrong direction…"
"Your Majesty, you should be heading toward the Resurrection Platform," Old Liu said, slow and clear. The rest of the attendants surrounded Mo Ran, pressing in. "The one Your Majesty has always
yearned for, always wished to bring back to life—is it not your shixiong, Shi Mingjing?"
"I…"
"Now that the resurrection pill is in Your Majesty's hands, why is it that Your Majesty does not make haste to the Resurrection Platform, but instead looks toward the Red Lotus Pavilion?" Old Liu continued, voice a whisper. "Your Majesty slaughtered hundreds and thousands till the rivers ran red with blood, visited chaos and disaster upon the land as far as the eye could see, all in an effort to secure this means of rebirth. After having done all that, will Your Majesty turn his back on everything he worked for and feed this pill to another person entirely?"
Mo Ran, heart in turmoil, gripped the pill tightly and squeezed out, "You don't understand."
"Your Majesty must go to the Resurrection Platform, not to the Red Lotus Pavilion." The eyes of the attendants shone with a terrible light as they crowded in ever closer, their ghastly faces encircling Mo Ran as they repeated, "Your Majesty must go to the Resurrection Platform, not to the Red Lotus Pavilion."
"Get out of my way." Mo Ran clenched his fingers around the resurrection pill, face pale.
"Your Majesty must go to the Resurrection Platform—" "Move!"
He drew Bugui, its hilt ice-cold in his hand, and the attendants shrank back. The pupils of their eyes narrowed into snakelike slits, and twisted smiles appeared on their faces, one by one.
"You'll regret this…"
"Did you really think you could change anything?" "You've broken your promise."
"Hypocrite."
"Ah, how can someone so false and fickle be worthy of that pill?" "Take it back! Seize it from him!"
Keeping a firm hold on the pill, Mo Ran tore a bloody path through them, sprinting toward the southern tip of Sisheng Peak. Whether this was a dream or reality, Chu Wanning would be there… He didn't care if he was alive or dead; he just needed to be there, by Chu Wanning's side. Only then could his heart be at peace.
Mo Ran ran through the barrier of the Red Lotus Pavilion; it admitted him but held Old Liu and the rest at bay. He shot one last glance behind him, then closed the jade bamboo door, shutting out the sight of those faces. This was the Red Lotus Pavilion; the only ones allowed in were himself, and…
"Shizun?"
His eyes widened with shock at the scene before him: Chu Wanning, standing at a table beneath a haitang tree. His hair was bound up in a high ponytail, and he wore metal gloves, his expression one of utmost focus as he examined the near-completed piece of the Holy Night Guardian in his hands. As the wind picked up, pale petals shook loose from their blossoms to flutter snow-like across the table and steps of the courtyard.
The rims of Mo Ran's eyes reddened, and he choked out, "Shizun…"
Chu Wanning raised his head at the sound of Mo Ran's voice. He was holding a file in his mouth, clearly very busy. Caught by surprise at Mo Ran's sudden appearance, he put the file away and straightened, nodding at him. "What are you doing here?"