JUST AS MO XI promised, being freed from the Demon-Summoning Talisman was extremely painful—like having thousands of thorny brambles pulled from one's flesh.
Gu Mang tried to bear it silently at first, but by the time Mo Xi had recited half the incantation, he could no longer endure. His tense form went lax beneath Mo Xi as he shivered and convulsed, until finally, great tears spilled from the corners of his eyes to trail shakily to his temples.
His eyes were red from crying, but Mo Xi kept a hand over his mouth, blocking all sound. Gu Mang's clothes were soon soaked in sweat, gaze unfocused and eyes blank as they reflected Mo Xi's face. His reflection fractured with a blink, becoming the tears in Gu Mang's stinging eyes.
Mo Xi had to exert all his strength to keep Gu Mang pinned, to stop him from going berserk.
It hurt. It hurt so much, a pain deeper than bone and marrow…
Mo Xi found the sight of Gu Mang's quivering lashes so difficult to bear that it frightened him. Against his will, his grip loosened a touch.
In that momentary slack, Gu Mang struggled away from the hand muzzling him. He turned his head and gasped for breath, crying out desperately in a voice both hoarse and pitiful. Unlike his powerful body, his voice when he whimpered was as delicate as spring leaves.
In truth, Gu Mang had cried like this before—but no one else knew when. Only Mo Xi had heard it, in their bed.
"Bite me," Mo Xi murmured.
Gu Mang didn't understand. He was deaf to anything Mo Xi said. Mo Xi took a deep breath, pushing aside his unease, and bent down.
At this angle, he knew Gu Mang would reflexively bite his shoulder.
Gu Mang's canines were terribly sharp. They'd broken skin many times in the past, to the point where the scars he'd left still hadn't faded and might not ever. Same old spot. Go ahead and bite, thought Mo Xi.
Ruthlessly, he continued to chant.
This short respite followed by even worse pain made Gu Mang flinch, body going taut as he gasped hoarsely once more… Caught between maddening frustration and breaking down completely, he instinctively opened his mouth and sank his teeth into Mo Xi's shoulder.
His entire body was soaked in sweat. He spasmed and shook in Mo Xi's arms…
The closer the incantation came to completion, the more unbearable the pain became. By the end, Gu Mang could no longer keep his jaw clamped down on Mo Xi's shoulder. He abruptly let go and tilted his face away, gasping raggedly. Sweat beaded his skin, his eyes so teary they resembled storm-swept seas. He finally spoke. "It hurts…"
This was the first time since Mo Xi's return to Chonghua, the first time since their reunion, that Gu Mang had expressed himself with such undisguised emotion.
"I…hurt…"
Mo Xi's chest tightened. That heart, once stabbed and never the same, throbbed and ached violently within his ribs.
He gazed into Gu Mang's eyes. Gu Mang had collapsed, limp in his arms.
Mo Xi had a sudden irrepressible urge to press his head to Gu Mang's clammy forehead, like he had long ago, before anything had broken beyond repair. To caress Gu Mang's sweat-soaked brow and tell him, Don't worry, you'll be all right once the curse is broken, I'll stay with you…
I'll stay with you.
But as Mo Xi lowered his face, as he drew close, he at once remembered all that had happened—all that could never be undone.
He remembered that Murong Lian and the others were separated from them by merely a stone wall. If he didn't quickly release Gu Mang from the Demon-Summoning Talisman, this mess would become even harder to resolve.
Jerking himself awake, Mo Xi turned away and blinked his eyes a few times, continuing to chant.
It was the last piece…only the last piece…
He felt a sudden pain at his neck. It was Gu Mang, so weak he could no longer bite into Mo Xi's shoulder, longingly opening his mouth to sink his teeth into something softer instead. He was biting into the side of Mo Xi's neck.
Or, not so much biting, since he was already so weak, but mouthing. Beneath those wet lips, only the sharpest canine could still hurt Mo Xi. The others barely touched him.
The final walls in his heart came crumbling down. Mo Xi closed his eyes. Just this once…only this once.
Heedless of whoever might see them, uncaring of what they would think, unbothered, even, by all that had happened between himself and Gu Mang—their deep and bloody hatred—Mo Xi lifted his hand to cradle the back of Gu Mang's head and let him bite. He stroked Gu Mang's hair, softly coaxing him, "It's okay, it's okay… It's all over now…all over now…"
The pain was over.
If only their debts and hatred could be so easily cast away. If only the chasm between them could be closed as quickly as the end of this agony. If only.
He held and comforted the trembling man in his arms. No one saw; even Mo Xi himself was unwilling to bear witness, closing his eyes before gently laying a kiss at the top of Gu Mang's head.
If only all the suffering in the world could end too. If only.
Released from the curse, Gu Mang drifted into slumber. Mo Xi rose and summoned the bamboo warrior, commanding it to take care of him. Then he transformed Shuairan into a spiritual snake once again and left it to stand guard, while he went around the stone wall to help Murong Lian and Yue Chenqing bring this difficult battle to a close.
But by the looks of it, they didn't need his help.
Yue Chenqing's spiritual power wasn't particularly potent; he had to recite each line of the sword-destroying incantation some thirty times. But with each repetition, Li Qingqian's energy weakened. By now, Yue Chenqing was almost at the final round, and Li Qingqian was no longer much of a match for Murong Lian.
"Thy blood fills the furnace, thy bones become the blade…"
These incantations had morphed into hazy plumes of white smoke that wound around Li Qingqian.
"This sword of water's gleam was once a yearning dream…"
Li Qingqian was a force to be reckoned with. His form had already dissipated to a significant extent, but, face pale, he continued to exchange unsteady blows with Murong Lian. Murong Lian grew more relaxed the longer they fought, knocking his opponent to the ground again and again. He watched Li Qingqian stagger up with blood leaking from the corners of his mouth, clothes askew.
Murong Lian scoffed. "Why are you still struggling? Defeat is inevitable, yet you insist on this pathetic display. Do you enjoy getting kicked?"
Li Qingqian did not speak. He simply laughed maniacally, his lips parting to spit up a fountain of blood. His eyes flashed with a mad perseverance, difficult to describe, as though there was something for which he must survive at all costs. He couldn't dissipate until he achieved that goal, nor could he merely look on as Yue Chenqing destroyed the Hong Shao Sword.
That glint in his eyes wasn't saying, "I decide my fate, not the heavens," but rather, "I cannot defeat the heavens, but no matter what, I will do as I ought. Even if I lose, even if I die, even if I'm reduced to windblown ash—I will never bow to fate."
I will not bow.
Crazed, he laughed again, and Murong Lian sent another brutal kick at his face with his slippered foot. Again Li Qingqian crawled to his feet, inching toward Yue Chenqing.
"Ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha—"
"Li-zongshi."
Mo Xi's address made the wildly laughing Li Qingqian shudder. His red eyes swiveled to stare unsparingly into Mo Xi's, his expression both unsettling and bewildered.
"You disappeared after the ordeal at the Maiden's Lament Mountain. What happened afterward?"
Mo Xi had asked on a gamble, but as this question hung in the air, he was certain he'd struck true. Li Qingqian's eyes had narrowed slightly, that crazed smile beginning to distort.
The Hong Shao Sword, the writing on the wall, the maidens kidnapped for their similar faces, the extravagantly dressed ghost brides in the cave…
First she hates her helpless fate; Second hates her ill-starred face; Third their parting does she hate, a lost love left too late.
All this seemed to point to the involvement of an unknown woman. But why? What had happened at Maiden's Lament Mountain? What had made that swordsman clad in fluttering green become a vengeful sword spirit—an unrecognizable evil ghost?
Mo Xi gazed at him. "Who forged you into the sword? Who did you come to Chonghua to seek?"
Li Qingqian wanted to laugh again, but after a hard swallow, only a pathetic rasp escaped his lips. "Who's Li-zongshi? Not me! I'm not him! That idiot Li Qingqian is dead! He should've died even sooner! It's all because he lived too long, and was too delusional, too desperate for fame, that he was able to hurt others, hurt himself, and end up like he did! He has no one to blame but himself!"
These words were viciously spat.
"He deserved it!" The sword spirit shrieked unsteadily, malevolently. "Who am I looking for? Those girls! Ha ha ha! I'm here for vengeance! I'm here to kill! I'm going to kill!"
Li Qingqian's screams grew more hateful, but glimmering light rose from the surface of his body—with Yue Chenqing's last chant, he would become but ashes on the wind, together with his secrets.
"Rest not in this holy sword, return thyself to the earthly world," Yue Chenqing finished.
Hong Shao jerked, a jade-green light shining from the blade.
Yue Chenqing's eyes snapped open.
Murong Lian, leaning against a stone pillar, realized at once that something had gone wrong. "What happened? What's with that damn sword?"
Yue Chenqing had never been in this kind of situation before and anxiously chanted again. "Rest not in this holy sword, return thyself to the earthly—ah!"
Hong Shao suddenly stopped shaking, and the pool of black water surrounding it rushed back into the blade at frightening speed.
"No!" Yue Chenqing cried. "It's going to break free!"
He was still speaking when he heard the boom of an explosion, and his vision went dark. The waves of qi sent up by the blast flung him violently away. Yue Chenqing smashed into a stone wall and spit up a mouthful of blood.
Yue Chenqing looked up in panic only to see that Hong Shao had flown straight up into the middle of the bloody fight. It emitted a dazzling green light from within a cloud of black smoke, illuminating Yue Chenqing and Murong Lian's pallid faces.
Murong Lian clung to the wall for balance, grinding his teeth. "This is…"
Yue Chenqing cried out, his voice breaking. "The sword-destroying incantation backfired; it broke the seal! Murong-dage, come quick! Come stop it!"
Was there any need for Yue Chenqing to say it? Murong Lian swept over and attempted to use his qiankun pouch to contain it again, but Yue Chenqing's final mistake had freed Hong Shao of its restraints. This time, its strength and resentment were formidably strong. It sent out a burst of sharp sword energy that struck down Murong Lian before flying into Li Qingqian's hand.
"Yue Chenqing!" Murong Lian opened his mouth and spat, "You useless fool!"
"Didn't I already say I was useless?! That I didn't know how to do it?!" Yue Chenqing wailed dejectedly. "You're the one who made me try!"
"What mistake did you make on the last line?!" Murong Lian was so furious his face could have frozen in a scowl.
"I didn't make a mistake!" Yue Chenqing insisted. "Rest not in this holy sword, return thyself to the earthly world. How could I have recited that wrong? It must be—it must be something I don't understand! Or maybe I drew the array wrong at the beginning. I…"
There was no point in explaining further. Li Qingqian was clutching the glowing Hong Shao Sword—the sword spirit was fusing with its vessel.
When Mo Xi saw the cloud of light burst forth, he shouted, "Tuntian Barrier!"
A beam of golden light sprang from his palms and morphed into a massive whale. Whistling, it swept aside all the rock debris and completely enveloped his allies under its halo.
On the other side of the whale's barrier, Li Qingqian, having recovered his sword, was seething with terrifying evil energy. Floating in midair and surrounded by bluish streaks of power from the blade, he slammed against the Tuntian Barrier and released a fearsome flow of spiritual energy.
Li Qingqian lowered his head and watched the wounds on his arms and palms heal. He straightened his clothes, a sinister smile creeping over his pale face. After a long moment, he turned around with smiling eyes, looking askance at Yue Chenqing below.
"Yue-gongzi is yet unpracticed." His expression was horribly unsightly. The pain of nearly having his soul dissipated would not be so easily forgotten, but the discomfort was nothing now that his strength had exponentially increased. "Many thanks for your unintended support."
Murong Lian watched as this situation—which was still intimately connected to his responsibilities over Luomei Pavilion—continued to deteriorate. Profoundly discomfited, he turned to Mo Xi. "Why aren't you fighting him? How is it that you can't even defeat a sword spirit?"
"If I fight him, will you maintain the protective barrier?" Mo Xi snapped.
"I—" Murong Lian choked. "Don't you still have Shuairan? Let Shuairan take him down in snake form!"
"Shuairan is guarding Gu Mang!"
Murong Lian pounced, as if he had found an incredible piece of leverage against Mo Xi. He refused to put aside petty differences even before the enemy. "Very well, so you really are —"
"If he goes berserk again, are you going to stop him?" Mo Xi angrily interrupted.
"You—!"
"Murong-dage, it's useless." Yue Chenqing said, his little face stark white. "If a sword of that caliber fuses with the sword spirit, they're close to invincible. Only an artificer zongshi could hope to defeat him." He was near tears. "I messed up…"
Li Qingqian, now delivered from danger, had no plans to tangle any further with these three. He was determined to swiftly break away in order to complete his unknown mission. Raising his hand, he cast a powerful sword glare barrier, separating himself from Mo Xi and his allies, then lifted Hong Shao to fly out of the cave.
"Quick, after him!"
Murong Lian said. "What use would it be to go after him?" Yue Chenqing cried. "I just said he's more or less invincible right now, only the most powerful artificer zongshi could—"
Before he could finish, a beam of blinding white light streaked toward Li Qingqian's back. The bamboo warrior had flown up into the air, uninhibited by Li Qingqian's barrier. With a single flip, it landed before Li Qingqian and unsheathed its saber with a shing to bar Li Qingqian's way.
Li Qingqian wasn't the only one who was shocked; even Yue Chenqing was dumbfounded.
Had he not said a fused sword spirit was close to invincible, and that only an artificer zongshi with skills on par with his father could defeat it?
Who was this zongshi? The bamboo warrior? That was beyond ridiculous!
Yue Chenqing's brain was a buzzing mess—until he heard the bright sound of a sword behind them. He turned to see a man soaring toward them from the cave entrance, his white robes fluttering as he rode the winds.
The man's white robe was of light and graceful make, and the silver trim at his sleeves gleamed faintly. His long hair was bound by a tall jade crown, fastened with a pin overlaid with a ribbon, the snowy silk fluttering in tandem with his sleeves.
All his flowing sleeves and silks gave him a strikingly immortal aura. Though this man possessed extremely delicate features, the delicacy of his face couldn't diminish his imposing presence—an apathetic coldness was visible in his eyes, such that his spartan elegance was not one softly tender but rather piercingly frosty and indifferent.
The white-robed cultivator briskly steered his sword to alight upon the ground, expressionlessly lifting his refined face.
Those severe sword brows and majestic phoenix eyes swept across the battlefield. When his gaze landed on the bedraggled Yue Chenqing, he let out a dismissive snort. He stepped forward with a wave of his sleeves, horsetail whisk resting in the crook of his arm.
Here was the "Ignorance" of Chonghua's three poisons—master of the bamboo warrior, Murong Chuyi.