XUE MENG NEARLY spat blood. Mo Ran didn't have the energy to spare; as soon as he heard Nangong Si's words, he turned back and resumed fighting the corpses, acting as the first line of defense.
Chu Wanning had been helping Nangong Si work on the clearly sabotaged mechanism. When he saw Mo Ran outside, fighting alone, he flew to the doors and shouted, "Mo Ran, come back!"
"Shizun…"
Chu Wanning slammed down a golden barrier, which flung the nearest corpses back down the steps as it activated. He set up barriers on the stairs, the entryway, and the gap between the doors, then dragged Mo Ran inside. "Stop fighting."
"Shizun, we're still within the bounds of Mount Jiao; your barriers won't last! There's no need for this!"
Face a maelstrom of fury, Chu Wanning gritted his teeth and shoved Mo Ran deeper into the hall. "Bleeding all over and still trying to get yourself killed out there? Go sit down and meditate! Shi Mingjing!"
"Shizun, I'm here."
Chu Wanning jabbed a finger at Mo Ran. "See to his injuries." Shi Mei nodded. "Yes, Shizun."
Mo Ran stilled Shi Mei's outstretched hand, then said to Chu Wanning, who'd already turned his back: "Shizun, these are superficial wounds. Your barriers won't last more than half an hour here, and they'll drain your spiritual energy. You…"
Chu Wanning didn't turn to look at him from where he stood, facing the light of the barriers. "Then I'll survive half an hour."
Before Mo Ran could argue again, Shi Mei pulled him back. His cool fingers brushed Mo Ran's skin as he rolled up his sleeve and began casting healing spells over his wounds. When Mo Ran met his gaze, Shi Mei shook his head wordlessly before lowering his lashes and focusing on his work.
"Xue Meng," said Chu Wanning. "Here, Shizun."
"Once I'm spent, you take over. Don't overdo it. As soon as you feel drained, Sect Leader, you take over next."
"Right," Xue Zhengyong hastily answered. "It's better to take turns." Chu Wanning poured his spiritual energy into the three barriers.
"There's something else I'd like to ask of you, Sect Leader." "Go on."
"Those useless shirkers cowering in the back. Other than those of Taxue Palace and Guyueye who aren't suited to hand-to-hand combat, bring everyone who can fight over here," he said through gritted teeth.
"What if they won't come?"
"Then they can sit there and die when the doors are breached. Maybe that will motivate them."
Xue Zhengyong diligently ran off.
Nangong Si hadn't moved, still staring glumly at the broken chain in his hands, unsure what to do. Why had the sect founder's command broken so suddenly? An order from Nangong Changying couldn't be countermanded by anyone. So why would it…?
Xue Zhengyong was rounding up those who could step out and help with their defense. "I'll go," said Ye Wangxi.
Nangong Si snapped back to his senses and stopped her. "You're a girl, how can you—"
Ye Wangxi stared at the spineless herd of Jiangdong Hall disciples milling about whispering to each other. "Even if Rufeng Sect's been reduced to two," she said coldly, "there are no cowards among our number."
The women who'd mocked her for stepping up despite her gender were silent now. They slid their eyes away, avoiding Ye Wangxi's gaze.
Xue Zhengyong gathered a few more people. When he saw the next volunteer, he stared in shock. "Hanxue? Why have you… N-no, you're not used to this kind of fighting. Go back."
Mei Hanxue was icy today. "Don't worry, Uncle. I know what I'm doing, I won't mess around."
Xue Zhengyong looked to the leader of Taxue Palace, but she seemed unbothered, so there was nothing he could say. Mei Hanxue stepped up to join their group.
Jiang Xi frowned. "Should we really keep everyone here to hold them off like this? It'd be better if we sent a few fighters to see what's in the back of the hall."
"Right now, it's best to stall for time and see if we can fix the mechanism before exploring. If it can't be fixed, we'll split into two groups, one to stay here and one to go investigate," Xue Zhengyong answered.
"…That's reasonable. But does anyone know how to repair it?"
A shaking hand rose into the air. Master Ma, who'd earlier shrunk in on himself like a turtle at Jiang Xi's scathing criticism, poked his head out once again. "Um, I," he said, timid, "I can give it a try."
Jiang Xi scoffed. "Then why are you still standing here?!"
Master Ma grabbed Nangong Si's arm and scampered off, while Xue Zhengyong led his group of fighters back toward the doors.
Jiang Xi turned to look at the hall that had been split into heaven and hell, sinking into thought. He stared at those Zhenlong chess pawns who were on one side giggling and chatting with each other and on the other enduring all manner of torture. At last his gaze came to rest on Nangong Liu, who was sitting blankly next to his basket of tangerines.
He found it all passing strange. Why hadn't Nangong Liu or any of the pawns in the hall gone berserk and tried to murder them like the corpses outside? If Xu Shuanglin took control of the pawns here to attack from within the hall, the cultivators would find themselves trapped and assailed from two sides.
Why hadn't he done so? Because he didn't want to? Or because he couldn't?
Jiang Xi wasn't sure, but Mo Ran knew. He could vividly sense that the pawns in the hall had their tempers, wishes, and even memories intact. They were completely different from the corpses controlled by the Shared-Heart Array outside. To use an inexact analogy, the corpses outside were like puppets on strings, while the ones in here were all individual actors. It was obvious why Xu Shuanglin wasn't controlling them: he'd already reached the limits of what he could accomplish with his spiritual energy.
"Chu-zongshi, a little help please!"
A soft voice came from the stone stairs beyond the barrier. Chu Wanning looked up and saw Hua Binan at the head of a dozen cultivators besieged on the steps. This was the group who'd been bitten by snakes and stayed behind to rest, and had encountered a second corpse attack on the way over. Half their number had perished on the staircase, and those remaining had sustained serious injuries as they struggled free.
Chu Wanning reached up without hesitation and cast another barrier, separating them from the revenants on the stairs behind them. Tianwen cracked through the air, driving off the corpses pressing in.
"Here!" Chu Wanning extended a hand to Hua Binan.
Mo Ran tensed. Ignoring that Shi Mei was halfway through applying salve, he shot to his feet and called out, "Shizun, be careful!"
But Hua Binan did nothing untoward. He reached for Chu Wanning with one shaking hand, and Chu Wanning hauled him behind the stronger protective barrier.
"I need some help over here!" Chu Wanning shouted back into the temple.
Those lucky survivors were pulled over one by one and taken to the main hall. They groaned and panted, faces contorted in pain and smeared with blood. Jiang Xi led the Guyueye disciples over and bent down before Hua Binan. "How did you get so badly injured…?" he asked, rare concern visible in his face.
"I'm fine. Sect Leader, please look after the others first." Hua Binan leaned back against the pillar, his veiled hat torn to shreds and his robes dyed scarlet. Jiang Xi reached out to take his pulse, but Hua Binan held up a hand. "I'm all right, they're all minor injuries. But your disciple…" He coughed. "H-he's badly injured; go attend to him. Don't mind me…"
The entire group was grievously wounded. Some had their legs completely broken in the fray, so Hua Binan had indeed been quite lucky if he could still stand. Jiang Xi swore under his breath, cast a final glance at Hua Binan, then turned to help with the other cultivators' injuries.
Fingers trembling, Hua Binan produced a bottle of coagulant powder from his qiankun pouch and moved to sprinkle it over his wounds. A hand reached out without warning and took the bottle. "Let me help," Mo Ran said.
"…No need for that."
Mo Ran looked at him, eyes dark and deep. "It's just some medicinal powder; anyone can do it."
Hua Binan snatched the bottle out of Mo Ran's hand. "I don't like other people touching me. Besides, you're not even a healer. You'd only cause trouble."
"Here, allow me."
Mo Ran turned to see Shi Mei nimbly setting his healer's pack beside Hua Binan. "Shi Mei?"
At the sight of the pack, Hua Binan pursed his lips and fell silent, offering no further resistance. Shi Mei laid out his needles and bandages. "Senior Sage, please forgive this junior for any mistakes."
Hua Binan said nothing. His wounds were so deep that his bleeding couldn't be stopped with spells; one had to staunch them with spiritual needles first. There was a cold, bright gleam as a dozen flashing needles reflected in Shi Mei's eyes—he'd placed them in a blink.
"Senior, your hat and veil…"
A hint of shadow flitted through Hanlin the Sage's eyes, but he knew there were several necessary acupoints on the face. "I'll do it myself, " he said grimly.
His bloodied veil fell, revealing the face Hanlin the Sage concealed from all outsiders. It was an arresting visage. The upper half was handsome—but all the skin below his nose was a burned and twisted mess, the texture raised and spiny. Hua Binan looked up, resentment and ridicule flickering in his eyes. "What now? Mo-zongshi, will you stay to watch the show?"
"…My apologies."
Hua Binan sneered behind him. "I told you to go. You're the one who insisted on staying. Now you say you're sorry, but who knows what you're really thinking—probably that Hanlin the Sage looks like a freak, heh."
Mo Ran shook his head. There was little else he could say, so he left.
Master Ma was still fussing over the broken chain, while at the front of the temple, Chu Wanning was reaching the end of his reserves. He turned to Xue Meng. "Xue Meng, take over!"
Xue Meng immediately stepped forward, sword in hand. They changed places seamlessly; not a single corpse squeezed its way in as Xue Meng raised his own barriers.
As soon as Chu Wanning released the barrier, he stumbled backward.
Mo Ran's heart ached at the sight of his pale face, but he couldn't do anything while others watched. He couldn't even take Chu Wanning's hand. "Wan… Shizun," he said, biting his tongue. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." Chu Wanning coughed lightly. "I just overspent my spiritual energy."
Chu Wanning's spiritual core was fragile. Overtaxing one's spiritual energy might not be worrisome for others, but for Chu Wanning… Mo Ran closed his eyes. In the past life, when he and his teacher had fought on opposite sides of good and evil, this was how Chu Wanning's core had shattered in their final battle. This was how he'd become no more than an ordinary mortal, with a constitution more fragile than most. How could he be fine? Mo Ran couldn't bear it. Eyes red, he silently slid off the robe Chu Wanning had lent him and draped it back over Chu Wanning's shoulders.
Only then could he gently squeeze Chu Wanning's shoulders beneath the cloth, all the love he bore him hidden in that fleeting touch.
He helped Chu Wanning away from the battle at the doors and into a secluded corner. Mo Ran pulled Chu Wanning down to sit, and in the cover of the shadows, silently took Chu Wanning's hand.
His hand was freezing. Just as it had been when Chu Wanning had fallen beneath Mo Ran's sword, when Mo Ran had stepped on his chest and reached out to take him by the chin.
Mo Ran lowered his lashes, fingertips trembling.
Chu Wanning had thought to pull away—they were in public, after all—but he, too, felt that tremble. Instead of withdrawing his hand, he locked his fingers with Mo Ran's. "Let me see." Chu Wanning reached out and turned Mo Ran's face from side to side, examining the wounds scattered over his cheeks and his nose. "Does it hurt?"
Shaking his head, Mo Ran stared into Chu Wanning's face, stared at the man who showed him so much concern even when his own lips had gone gray. It did hurt. Not the wounds, but his heart. He'd finally learned how to lie as Chu Wanning did: "No," said Mo Ran.
"Then why are you shaking?"
Mo Ran didn't say anything; he couldn't say anything. Chu Wanning was left to assume he really was shaking from the pain. A faint jade glow lit up his fingertips. Mo Ran's pupils shrank to pinpricks—he grabbed Chu Wanning's hand before it could touch his face. "Are you insane? Why are you still drawing on your spiritual energy?!"
"A little won't hurt," said Chu Wanning. "It's just a minor healing spell to soothe the pain."
His fingertips brushed Mo Ran's cuts. A spell to soothe the pain, Chu Wanning had said. But Mo Ran felt his heart torn to pieces. A death by a thousand cuts would feel like this. Of course Mo Ran knew this was a tiny amount of spiritual energy—a drop in the ocean, or a cup of water scooped from the sea. Chu Wanning had given nearly everything to everyone else, and the fraction he'd left for Mo Ran was just this. In the past life, he'd hated Chu Wanning for giving the world so much and himself so little. Back then he hadn't known that, though what Chu Wanning gave him seemed insignificant, it was all he had. It was all that remained, all he could possibly give.
"It's done! It's fixed!" Master Ma's disciple appeared in the doorway, his cheeks red from exertion. "Prepare to retreat immediately; we're closing the doors!" he shouted. "We're going to close the doors!"
By this point, Mei Hanxue had taken over the barriers holding back the revenant horde. Xue Meng had sustained a few injuries after taking Chu Wanning's place, but they were minor, requiring nothing more than a bandage. He sat off to the side, one end of the gauze in his teeth as he tied the knot and watched Mei Hanxue face their foes.
Now that was peculiar. He seemed to remember Mei Hanxue had a water and wood elemental core, but he was currently using fire elemental attacks. Mei Hanxue stood at the top of the steps holding a water-parting zither, strumming the strings with an impassive mien, but what came out were scarlet barrier flames that kept the approaching corpses away.
"The doors are closing! Mei-gongzi!"
Mei Hanxue released the fretted zither, which hovered in midair, following his movements as he retreated toward the doors. Xue Meng realized something and turned. "Can you open the doors a bit more? The zither is too wide, it won't—"
"No need."
Mei Hanxue crisply cut Xue Meng off and drew the zither swiftly into its case. Without the spiritual flames from its strings, that mass of revenants charged toward them. Mei Hanxue didn't specialize in hand-to- hand combat—Xue Meng paled and unsheathed Longcheng, prepared to rush outside and help.
A gleam of silver appeared before he made it past the doors. A sword materialized in Mei Hanxue's hand, sharp and formidable. He wielded it with shocking speed, then leapt backward as he tossed the sword before him. In the instant before the doors closed, Mei Hanxue raised his hand and shouted, "Shuofeng, return!"
The sword transformed into a beam of light that shot through the crack, and Mei Hanxue caught it with a clean flourish, bringing it flush to his side.
With a boom, the temple doors closed.
The corpses and dragon sinews thudded as they crashed into the doors, but the sounds seemed distant through the stone. The hall the Nangong clan had so painstakingly constructed was not so easily breached.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Several inexperienced young
disciples from the upper cultivation realm quietly crumpled to the ground. Some slightly more competent ones remained on their feet but howled, "Fuck… What the hell happened here…"
Mei Hanxue also let out a soft breath, though his expression of relief was scarcely different from his usual demeanor. If Xue Meng hadn't been watching him closely, he might not have noticed the slight parting of his lips, nor the subtle exhalation that followed.
Sensing a terrifying gaze fixed upon him, Mei Hanxue turned. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Xue Meng's throat felt dry. "That sword of yours…"
Mei Hanxue flicked a glance at the glowing silver longsword in his hand. "Shuofeng."
Xue Meng's expression wavered. "Since when did you use a sword?" He paused. "Wait—the question should be, since when did you have a holy weapon?"
"This whole time."
"Then why didn't you use it at the Spiritual Mountain Competition?" cried Xue Meng.
Mei Hanxue was silent a moment. "I didn't want to."
"Is it because you look down on me?" Xue Meng was equally baffled and incensed. "If you used your holy weapon, you could've come in…come in second?"
Mei Hanxue shot him a fluid glance. Those icy eyes were almost mocking now; he gazed at Xue Meng, flushed with fury, for a long beat. "Third place is fine. First…" He pursed his lips, leaving his parting words to flutter into Xue Meng's ears as he walked past. "First place was too dumb."