WHAT WOULD HE have done in Xu Shuanglin's place? Resurrection. He would have brought that man back to life.
Mo Ran looked at Xu Shuanglin, curled in a ball on the ground. "You never thought Nangong Liu would be so cold-blooded as to kill Luo Fenghua," he murmured. "In your panic, you said Luo Fenghua left the curse on the ring. You goaded Nangong Liu into dragging Luo Fenghua's body into the blood pool, imprisoning him in the eighteen hells according to Rufeng Sect law."
"What are you saying?" Xue Meng was dazed. "If he wanted to resurrect Luo Fenghua, he must have adored him. Why would he send him to the eighteen hells?"
"Because a soul cannot reincarnate from within the eighteen hells." Mo Ran looked at Xu Shuanglin with pity in his eyes. "If Luo Fenghua didn't enter the cycle of reincarnation, you would have time to learn the art of Rebirth and bring him back. You'd create your ideal world—a realm of perfect fairness with you as its god."
Xu Shuanglin said nothing. After a moment, his half-rotted face smiled. "Mo-zongshi," he said, staring into Mo Ran's eyes. "I've just realized you're a madman, too." His voice dropped to a whisper: "Only another madman would understand me."
Unrestrained laughter bubbled from his throat. The sound was like that of a withered-winged old eagle: still wheeling in vicious circles atop the craggy peaks, never showing the slightest vulnerability until its death.
Mo Ran closed his eyes, his voice still soft. "Nangong Xu, listen. There's someone else who knows Rebirth. If you're willing, I'll do all in my power to ask Master Huaizui of Wubei Temple to bring your shizun back to life." He handed that broken core back to Xu Shuanglin. "But please, tell me…" Mo Ran clutched at that last thread of hope, the only thing that could save him. His brows knit, and his eyes showed a helplessness the others couldn't see. "Tell me who's been helping you. Who taught you this cruel Rebirth technique? Who taught you the Zhenlong Chess Formation?"
Memory merged with reality.
Within the smoking ruins of Rufeng Sect, Xu Shuanglin had died taking a blow for Ye Wangxi. In the past life, he hadn't made a clear plan before he died. But everything was different this time. Xu Shuanglin had laid the trap within Jincheng Lake years and years ago. He had orchestrated the turmoil at Peach Blossom Springs and the Heavenly Rift at Butterfly Town. When he realized the sacrifice of human lives wasn't enough, he'd swiftly changed tack and sought holy weapons across the land. He'd successfully dragged Luo Fenghua out of hell. Such methods were certainly not of his own making.
"You want to know?" Malice gleamed in Xu Shuanglin's eyes. "It's true, someone taught me these tricks. But I'll never tell who."
"You'd rather be his pawn until death?"
"Pawn?" Xu Shuanglin grinned. "You're mistaken. He understands me, understands how I think. He and I are the same. Mo-zongshi, give up. I'll die before I name him. After all your efforts to enter Mount Jiao and force me to the brink, what have you achieved?"
Mo Ran said nothing.
"This world will be cast into chaos, embroiled in war and death. He'll raze the upper and lower cultivation realms and leave them ash. The righteous and wicked will receive their just rewards—the competent with power and the useless without." Mirth brightened Xu Shuanglin's eyes. "What a…magnificent sight that will be."
"What do you mean, righteous and wicked, competent and useless?" Xue Meng asked, incensed. "Why do you decide who's good and evil, strong or weak? All those people you turned into pawns outside…and Nangong Changying… And…and…" Glancing surreptitiously at Chu Wanning, he lowered his voice. "And Nangong Si." Indignant and aggrieved, Xue Meng continued, "Did they ask to be under your control? Did they deserve to die?"
"Everything has its price." Xu Shuanglin flicked a look at him. "Xue-gongzi, you are too young."
There was a weariness in his face, as if talking to the high-strung Xue Meng had taxed him unduly. He turned back to Mo Ran, voice lazy. "You've defeated me. Go ahead and do whatever you want. I still have a lingchi fruit in my qiankun pouch. If you think torture isn't enough, you can make me eat that too." He sneered. "It doesn't matter. You noble gentlemen condemned me to death by a thousand cuts when I was twenty. Another round won't hurt."
"Nobody did that to you," Huang Xiaoyue said. "Lying through your teeth—how shameless!"
But Mo Ran understood. That death hadn't been one of the body, but of the soul. Nangong Xu had once possessed a kind heart and devoted himself to his studies. He had adhered to his shizun's teachings and aspired to be a gentleman forever, fighting off evil. That Spiritual Mountain Competition had torn him to shreds.
Mo Ran closed his eyes. Xu Shuanglin's body was ruined; he wouldn't live much longer. Despite everything he had done, Mo Ran still felt some compassion for him—he so resembled Mo Ran's past self. "Luo Fenghua's spiritual core is still here. Why don't you try that Rebirth formation again? You might be able to see him once more."
"Try it again?" Xu Shuanglin smiled. He studied the core in his hand, then looked over his flesh, rotting away from spiritual energy overconsumption. "I'm about to die," he said languidly. "Once I'm dead, fairness will be lost to the world. Why should he come back? He would still have to endure blame and bullying from all your great sects, wouldn't he?"
Eyes darkening, he crushed that core in his grip. The fragments stabbed into his skin, filling his cupped palms with blood.
Mo Ran started.
"Are you crazy?!" Xue Meng asked.
No one else understood his actions any better. Some looked on in open-mouthed shock, while others went pale. Yet more stared vigilantly at the man-shaped monster crumpled on the ground.
Xu Shuanglin ignored them all. He watched as the last scrap of Luo Fenghua in the world truly disappeared and began laughing hysterically. Tears streamed down his face as he cackled, shrill and mad. Neither of them would see the other ever again; neither of them could hate each other. All had returned to ashes and dust. He couldn't have wished for anything better.
He slowly rose, staggering toward the holy weapon array as the crowd watched. One of the weapons was a harp. He sat before it and plucked the strings with moldering fingers.
The backlash from the Zhenlong Chess Formation had intensified; blood ran from every orifice, and licking flames sprang up where his hands touched the harp. They spread over his body until he was engulfed in apocalyptic fire, yet he played on amid the blaze. He looked almost relieved, almost at ease. Whatever his expression might've been, it swiftly disappeared as his skin shrank, twisted, and dried.
Smoke rose to the sky. Xu Shuanglin's leisurely voice came from the conflagration, light and so arrogant, as if crippling pain couldn't touch him nor impending death rattle him.
"Best are those years we come of age, seeing the world's flowers astride a fast horse…"
Many of Xu Shuanglin's own generation stood amongst the crowd. At this carefree little tune, they recalled that young man who'd appeared at the Spiritual Mountain Competition. Dressed in blue, his features bright with youth. He walked out from the dark tunnel—walked out from the wastelands of memory—and confidently strode onto the field, holding his trusty sword in hands covered in hard-earned calluses.
He was so young and handsome, so lit from within, with a confidence that bordered on haughtiness. As he looked past the sect leaders of the ten great sects and all those whooping spectators, a brilliant grin broke over his face. This twenty-year-old man came to a stop, his proud back straight, and greeted that sunlit field and his shining future with a bow. "Nangong Xu of Rufeng Sect, here for my first battle. I humbly ask my seniors for instruction."
But in the end, he hadn't lived up to the words of "Ode to Youth."
It was a long time before the flames guttered out, leaving five ownerless weapons and the remains of the Rebirth array, still spiraling in the air.
Both Luo Fenghua and Xu Shuanglin were gone.
Xue Zhengyong stared in disbelief, eyes wide. "Is this…" he murmured, "the end?"
"Amitabha, karma comes for us all." Master Xuanjing of Wubei Temple closed his eyes and clasped his hands in prayer with a sigh. "This old monk wishes for all the world's enmities to dissolve into the ash whence they came."
Xue Meng rolled his eyes. This old donkey had barely lifted a finger on the way here, but he was certainly quick to hand out aphorisms now. "What should we do next?" he asked his dad. "Are we just going to head back down? He still has an accomplice out there somewhere."
Jiang Xi's voice cut in. "Watch out—back up!"
They turned back to see the Rebirth array in the air had shrunk to the size of a palm. It stood frozen a moment, then snapped back open. It was as if a dark wound had opened in the sky, wisps of twisted black energy pouring out.
"What's going on?" Xue Meng cried. "Shouldn't the array have fallen apart when Xu Shuanglin died?"
Jiang Xi absently kneaded his fingers, staring at the array. After a moment, he swore. "This isn't the Corpse Demon Array, nor is it Rebirth! We and Xu Shuanglin—we've all been taken for fools!"
"What?" Xue Meng exclaimed. "Not the Corpse Demon Array or Rebirth? Then what is it?"
"It doesn't matter," Jiang Xi said, acrid. "Our goal is to keep it from taking shape."
Other strong cultivators reacted just as swiftly. Within that flickering instant, Chu Wanning was lunging at the center of the array, Tianwen in hand. Someone else unexpectedly followed close behind. A dark green shadow broke from the crowd, pouncing toward Chu Wanning like a hunting panther. A dagger flashed in their sleeve as they struck right for Chu Wanning's exposed back in an attempt to stop him.
"Shizun!"
"Shizun—!"
Twin cries came from Xue Meng and Shi Mei, but they were too far away—they couldn't possibly make it in time. They heard the wet sound of a blade sinking into flesh. Xue Meng screwed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, his face was colorless. He looked toward Chu Wanning and froze.