After leaving Mount Jiao, Mo Ran was like a wooden sculpture. His eyes were slightly glazed over as he walked forward in silence.

     He stood at a fork in the road, lost in thought.

     The great battle was over, and the sun was rising in the east. The morning glow had already washed away all the darkness of the night, leaving only the smell of dew and grass among the trees, the fragrance floating in the morning light.

     He turned back and looked at the towering mountain range. Then he looked at the road ahead. If he walked straight ahead, he would reach Rainbell Isle, where Xue Meng and his uncle were waiting for him, waiting for an explanation and answer. But he couldn’t go there. He had to go to Longxue Mountain.

     Mo Ran vaguely understood that Master Huaizui actually knew far more than he imagined. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so calm when he saw Emperor Taxian-Jun. Perhaps because of this, he became increasingly at a loss as to what was waiting for him.

     In fact, his mind was in chaos at the moment, and he wasn’t in the mood to think about it more. In the end, he was only numbly aware that—

     He had to go because his Shizun was there.

     Longxue Mountain was located near Wubei Temple. In the early years, monks would occasionally come to the mountain to meditate, practice zen, and gain enlightenment. However, the mountain was often a mystery. Many people said that they encountered ghosts near the mountain, and once they entered, they never returned. So gradually, it became a barren mountain.

     Mo Ran traveled on his sword, and after a day’s journey, he finally arrived at the foot of Longxue Mountain at sunset. He hadn’t eaten or drank all day and was already very tired, so when he saw a stream of clear spring water flowing from the cypress trees, he walked over and scooped a handful of water to wash his face.

     What washed off was first mud, then dried blood. Finally, his face was revealed, reflected in the rippling water.

     It wasn’t an ugly face, but Mo Ran stared at it for a while, feeling only unspeakable disgust and hatred. He suddenly broke the water’s surface, shattering the reflection, and closed his eyes. He buried his face in his palms and rubbed it, almost painfully.

     Was there any way in this world to completely separate a person’s past from his present? Was there any sharp weapon that could remove the rotten memories from his mind?

     Was there anyone who could save him? Could they tell him, “You are not Taxian-Jun, you are just Mo Ran, you are just Mo Weiyu.”

     But when he opened his eyes, the water was calm again, and the man in the water was still staring at him with resentment and despair.

     He knew he had no way out.

     He got up and went up the mountain.

     Halfway up the mountain, fog suddenly rose. It was so thick that one couldn’t see their own fingers in front of them.

     At first, Mo Ran thought it was a ghost, but when he perceived it, there was no trace of evil.

     It was getting late. The sound of cuckoos could occasionally be heard in the trees. The surroundings were getting colder, and the sunlight was disappearing little by little, until it began getting dark.

     “Master?”

     His voice was slightly hoarse, and he rubbed his hands as he walked forward.

     “Master Huaizui?”

     No one answered him.

     But strangely, though he climbed the entire way almost blindly, he didn’t encounter any obstruction. The path was so smooth that it made one’s hair stand on end. It was as if someone had long set up a trap in the depths of the fog, waiting for him to walk into the trap alone.

     “Is anyone there?”

     The fog gradually dissipated.

     The scenery in front of him became clearer and clearer. The thick mist fell, and the mountains, rocks, and vines appeared in front of him.

     He found that he had unknowingly arrived at a flat and open area. When he looked back, the path he took was still covered in fog. Only this area had lush vegetation, illuminated by moonlight and sparse stars.

     He stepped forward on the withered grass covered with dew before he saw a person’s back.

     Mo Ran was startled for a moment. Then he ran forward in panic and called out anxiously, “Shizun?!”

     Chu Wanning had his back to him and was kneeling beside a cave covered by purple wisteria. In front of him, Huaizui was sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed. His expression was sorrowful, and he was completely silent.

     “Shizun! You—”

     He was suddenly speechless. He saw Chu Wanning turn around, his eyelashes wet and his face stained with tears.

     Mo Ran was stunned. “What’s wrong?”

     Chu Wanning didn’t speak. He had been suppressing himself for a long time. He had always been aloof and mighty. It was as if as soon as he was born, he was an elder, an immortal. There was no time when he was young or weak.

     “Mo Ran…”

     But this time, he used up all his strength. He only said two words before he couldn’t hold back anymore, and sobs escaped his lips.

     Mo Ran murmured as he stepped forward, walking to his side. He knelt down and hugged him tightly. “...What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

     As he spoke, he lowered his head and caressed Chu Wanning’s hair. Chu Wanning’s body was very cold, but now that he found him and could hold him in his arms, Mo Ran felt that his heart was warm.

     Every moment of peace was stolen, and every word he said to Chu Wanning became a charity of the heavens. If he could get a little more, he would treat it as a treasure and didn’t dare to take it lightly.

     “Alright, alright.” Even though he was so helpless, he embraced Chu Wanning against his broad and warm chest, comforting him, “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.”

     As he spoke, he kissed Chu Wanning’s forehead. At this moment, he suddenly found that Chu Wanning—who was lying in his arms and restraining himself but still trembling and crying, his fingers tightly clutching his lapels—looked very much like the little shidi in the Peach Blossom Springs who would never appear again.

     No one was born strong, so Chu Wanning should also have a young face.

     Mo Ran’s heart trembled as he vaguely understood something. He hugged the slightly trembling Chu Wanning and continued kissing him and stroking his hair before looking at Huaizui.

     The old monk was sitting on a huge, cold rock. His brows were furrowed, and his eyelashes were lowered. His half-closed eyes had no light in them. He was holding a haitang flower, leaning forward slightly as if he was giving it to someone. But that person must have refused his good intentions. The flower had already withered, with only a few scattered flowers still hanging from the branches.

     Huaizui had passed away.

     This person, who hid many myths and mysteries, didn’t have any relief on his face at the last moment.

     His expression was pained.

     What was even more unbearable was that after his death, his face no longer retained the youthful appearance of a thirty-year-old. He had completely turned into a thorny old monk. And for some reason, his face was being eaten by a small golden bug at a speed visible to the naked eye.

     “This bug…”

     “It’s a false bug.” Chu Wanning finally spoke, his voice frighteningly hoarse. “Some people who dislike their appearance will make a blood contract with this bug. The false bug can change the host’s appearance, and in return, on the day the host dies, the false bug will devour the host’s entire body.”

     Listening to him trying his best to keep his tone steady as he spoke slowly, Mo Ran couldn’t help but hug him even more tightly. The person in his arms had probably been kneeling here for a very, very long time. His hands and feet were ice-cold.

     From his previous life to this one, it had always been Chu Wanning who was his lighthouse, his flame, dispelling the darkness of the night and giving him all the warmth he could.

     But at this moment, Mo Ran only felt like the person in his arms was made of ice.

     He was so cold.

     His heart ached.

     “I’m here. I’m here.”

     “He told me to come to Longxue Mountain a long time ago.” Chu Wanning looked extremely exhausted, as if someone had drained all of his warm blood and poured endless pain and suffering into him.

     “He knew that I didn’t want to talk to him face to face or listen to any of his explanations, so he left me a letter with sincere words. But I was still stubborn and refused to believe him… I was suspicious of him…”

     Mo Ran touched his cheek. He had never seen Chu Wanning like this before.

     Not even in his previous life.

     This made him feel panicked. He asked, “What happened?”

     But Chu Wanning only answered blankly, “I was suspicious of him…”

     This person, who had always been calm and rational, was finally broken into pieces.

     He was like a drawn bow whose string had been stretched to the limit and suddenly snapped. He trembled in Mo Ran’s arms, unable to stop shaking, so desperate, so pitiful.

     Chu Wanning curled up. Once a person who had been tense for half his life collapsed, the accumulated grief was enough to burst a dam. “I should have come here long ago… If I had listened to him, many things wouldn’t have happened. Nangong Si wouldn’t have died, and Shi Mei wouldn’t be blind. We could have made it in time… all in time.”

     “Shizun.”

     “If I had listened to that letter, things wouldn’t have turned out like this…”

     Mo Ran spent a long time comforting him. After a long time, Chu Wanning finally stopped crying, but his eyes were unfocused. Mo Ran pinched his fingertips, but found that they couldn’t warm up. Just like the slight trembling, it never stopped.

     “Why wasn’t I willing to believe him one more time…?”

     Mo Ran listened silently. Actually, on the way here, because of Emperor Taxian-Jun, Mo Ran had imagined countless scenarios of meeting Chu Wanning again. He had thought of many explanations and pleas.

     But he found that they were all useless.

     He didn’t expect that when they met again, it would be in such a situation.

     “He… also left behind a memory scroll…” Chu Wanning finally calmed down. Mo Ran touched his cold cheek. “...Before he left, he had always hoped that you would come, and he could give it to you personally.”

     Hearing that it was related to him, Mo Ran’s fingers froze.

     Memory scroll?

     What would be written there? What did Master Huaizui know?

     Mo Ran felt his hands starting to get cold. His hair stood on end, and he was chilled to the bone.

     Chu Wanning said hoarsely, “But he can’t wait any longer. His life is over.” When he finished speaking, he seemed to have touched an extremely painful scar. He frowned and didn’t say anything more.

     He was probably afraid that if he said another word, he would break down again.

     Chu Wanning covered his eyes with his arm. He calmed himself down and slowly gathered his calmness, peacefulness, coldness, and reliability. He picked up the pieces and slowly put himself back together.

     After all, he wasn’t used to being a weakling.

     Finally, Chu Wanning raised his moist eyes. He took out the scroll from his lapel and handed it to Mo Ran.

     “This contains all the secrets he knows.”

     Mo Ran’s voice had an unmistakable tremor. “...Did he show it to you?”

     “Yes.”

     Mo Ran’s heart quivered.

     He looked into Chu Wanning’s eyes, and in that moment, he had an extremely terrifying thought.

     He felt that Chu Wanning knew everything.

     He took the jade scroll.

     But he was so uneasy that he suddenly held Chu Wanning’s fingers and rubbed them.

     “Wanning…”

     “...”

     “If what that person on Mount Jiao… told you was true, would you hate me?”

     Chu Wanning’s face was already very pale, and now it was completely drained of color; even his lips were slightly blue.

     “Would you hate me?”

     Mo Ran held his hand. His strength was so strong, so stubborn, and even brutal. But what was completely different from that strength was the pleading under his soft eyelashes.

     “Would you?”

     Chu Wanning shook his head and didn’t answer. He closed his eyes and said, “...Look at the scroll.”

     The scroll left by Master Huaizui was very heavy with yin energy. It was not like any spells of the mortal world. Instead, it was closer to the illusory realm of the feathered tribe of the Peach Blossom Springs.

     Mo Ran took another deep look at Chu Wanning, then opened the scroll and placed it between his eyebrows, letting out a radiant jade glow.

     The scene of Longxue Mountain disappeared, and what followed was a bottomless darkness. In the darkness, Huaizui’s voice sounded with a hint of a sigh echoing in Mo Ran’s ears.

     “Chu-zongshi, Mo-shizhu, this old monk knows that his time is running out. But now that the world is changing, and a great calamity is coming, if I don’t do everything in my power to tell the two of you what I know, so you can return to the world, this old monk will feel regretful in purgatory.”

     The voice paused for a moment, then spoke slowly.

     “The past events mentioned in this scroll are all unimaginable. There are even this old monk’s past mistakes that cannot be concealed. I know that I have sinned deeply for the past half of my life, coupled with my stupidity, shallowness, and narrowmindedness. In my two hundred years of life, the days I have been awake are sporadic, and the good deeds I have done are pitifully few. I have committed sins throughout my life, and there is no way to redeem myself. After I die, I will fall into the infinite hells and never be reincarnated. But I still have extravagant hopes, and I hope that after reading this, the two of you won’t feel disgusted by this old monk and think I’m… worse than a beast.”

     A faint light gradually lit up in front of Mo Ran’s eyes. He blinked. As far as his eyes could see, there were broken walls, old trees, and crows. There were birds pecking at eyeballs and eating guts everywhere.

     He was slightly startled. For some reason, he felt that this scene was very familiar, but he couldn’t immediately recall it.

     Until the dust at the city gate flew, and a group of people came galloping to the city gate. They wore headbands, carried feathered arrows, and rode thin horses. One of the young men suddenly pulled the reins and rolled off the horse. He rushed towards a corpse at the city gate and kept shouting, “Father! Father!”

     Mo Ran was shocked and felt a chill on his back.

     This was… the Peach Blossom Spring’s illusory realm?

     Was this the same Lin’an in the midst of war?!