Liu Yao (but only some of it).docx
Dozens of swords pressed down from every direction, all using the same exact maneuver he had just done. The coffin-like area instantly iced up due to the frost, a pressuring chill flowing outward.
Cheng Qian inwardly grumbled that this was annoying, Shuang Ren in hand as he crouched.
Tide Swordplay — Against Crazed Waves.
Swordwill swept over the skyful of fake frost. An invisible barrier seemed to build in midair, imperviously blocking the repressive might of those tens of swords. Following a tremendously loud sound, sparks burst forth, and the mirror-people with swords dispersed together in retreat.
He didn’t give them the chance to encircle him, figure like lightning. Shuang Ren revolved without cease in his hand, the nine changes of Subtlety lashing out and stabbing in turn, the sword’s image like an unfathomable monster, quickly boring into the crowd.
The mirror-people were too densely packed together, momentarily unable to come near him because they were impeding each other.
He made a sudden leap, then reached out to pass his hand over Shuang Ren, appearing to casually grab a handful of sword qi. Upon waving his hand in a circle, the surfaces of the dozen or so mirrors noisily shattered at the same time, and each of them spat out a cloud of black smoke that rapidly condensed in the air.
Right as he was about to sort this black shadow out, the many mirror-people that no longer had homes to return to went collectively nuts the instant the mirrors shattered, following which they recklessly went to surround him once more. One of the bodies, cut in half by Shuang Ren, was still restlessly wrangling with him.
This event happened to bar his way, and with another look, that black qi had already vanished.
Due to the unforgivingness of the mirror-people, the present scene began to turn very bloody. Over no more than a few brief breaths, Cheng Qian had already seen himself without a head, himself without arms, himself missing half of his body, himself disemboweled… and all sorts of other images of dying unwhole.
Thankfully, he was a heartless chunk of Spirit-Collecting Jade. Were he to be swapped out for a human with fragile innards, they might have stared crying out of fear.
Right as he was getting tangled up with a lot of mirror-people, the recently-vanished black qi slipped down into a corner, then burrowed into a palm-sized mirror placed there. Its surface momentarily brightened, then faded, revealing a smiling face with black qi curling about it.
Cheng Qian dispatched dozens of mirror-people like grass. The blood splashing onto his face was warm and fishy, like actual human blood.
With no change in expression, he nailed the final mirror-person to the ground, Shuang Ren’s frigid qi coating ‘him’ in a fine layer of white frost. The mirror-person opened those eyes that were identical to his, a cunning smile faintly looking to be within ‘his’ callousness. He was about to get goosebumps from that grin.
At that very moment, a cluster of black qi suddenly spurted out of the tiny mirror he had overlooked, and he was shrouded within something fishnet-like that pelted down upon his head. It was unknown what evil path the qi had come from, but it seemed to seep into the cracks in his bones, firmly locking up each of his joints.
Cheng Qian maintained the position he had of pinning the mirror-person to the ground, unable to budge even a bit.
A ball of fuzzy black shadows darted out from behind him, and he heard the voice of a man that was neither dark, nor light. “Oh? You’re an ace from the Fuyao Sect. I recognize that ‘sword of terrible death’.”
While he spoke, a pale hand reached in front of Cheng Qian and timidly glanced across Shuang Ren, as if fearful of something, then retracted, the man sucking in cold air.
“As expected. You’re not a typical note, Brother Cheng,” he whispered with a smile. “I heard that you made a big scene in Zhaoyang City all by yourself, and killed the Merriment Sect’s Chief. When all the Sect’s pervs heard, they hollered to take revenge on you.”
The black qi that had penetrated into Cheng Qian’s body jumped up and down in the presence of the demonic cultivator’s hand. The latter seemed to sense that the critical moment was about here, and his greedy gaze swept over Cheng Qian. “This body’s cultivation base… will all be given to me through your mirror image!”
With that, he yanked on the big, black-qi-woven net, as if he was going to draw the other’s primordial spirit out of his body…
Yet, that yank moved nothing. The cultivator’s face morphed. “What?!”
He saw a bunch of frost speedily spread out from the end of the net. Cheng Qian, who had been unable to move, raised his hand, then pulled the whole thing off of himself. The frozen net floated in his hand like it weighed nothing.
“You heard of me making a scene in Zhaoyang,” he said softly, “but did you never hear… that I’m not made of flesh and blood?”
Before the cultivator could realize what he meant by that, the net was gathered together by Cheng Qian, then suddenly transformed into a whip, lashed out right at the other’s face. The demon was greatly alarmed, turning around, changing into a ball of black qi, and floating away, instantly a few paces apart once he landed.
Still, the swordwill of Shuang Ren was like gangrene attached to the bones, impossible to shake off. Its sinister killing aura did not draw back, especially frightening within the corpses that filled the ground with gore.
The cultivator fled in a panic, but a beam of swordlight ‘bored’ out from an utterly bizarre location, immediately opening a huge rift on the front of his chest and nearly injuring something vital. He sucked in cold air. In the subsequent instant, a million Shuang Rens rushed up around him, securely trapping him inside them.
He quickly looked back to see that Cheng Qian looked as calm as a thousand-year-old pond of ice — something that reflections could never imitate.
He resembled those of legendarily high power that soared right up to a higher realm; toppling mountains, splitting earth, and having no sorrows, nor joys.
Knowing himself to be in a dead end, the demonic cultivator’s face turned vicious. His sleeves were seen to swell, and black qi surged upwards, turning his entire person into a huge black cask.
Cheng Qian was not one specialized in eliminating demons and defending the Dao, so the amount of demonic cultivators he had exchanged blows with was ultimately limited. He had never seen such a technique before, and by the time he reacted, it was too late — the man forced his demonic qi into his own flesh, and then his physical body instantly exploded, the sword copies surrounding him all immediately blowing up, too. The wall blockades constructed all around the Ten-Party Array were consequently sullied with meat and blood that was suffused with raven-colored qi, splatters sounding out.
Shuang Ren hummed. Cheng Qian quickly withdrew, thinking to himself, Hell no. If this puppet charm breaks again, Yan Zhengming is definitely going to nag me to death.
Yet, the next moment, that weird ear shape suddenly showed up in his palm. His environment shined with snowy light, stinging his eyes so that he couldn’t open them for a minute. When he could see again, the demonic cultivator’s viscera had been entirely cleared away. Most such cultivators had possession techniques; abandoning the corporeal form to get their primordial spirit into another body was a tried and tested thing.
Unfortunately, this one had ended up kicking an immovable iron sheet, his primordial spirit unable to escape. After a shriek, he was encased in the white rays, crying out in full dread. “Hear the Uni—“
Following that, there was quiet once more, his soul having promptly flown away and scattered.
Cheng Qian stood there, mystified. He saw the ‘ear’ he held, which had appeared at some unknown time, dim down after it finished its strike, then quickly vanish into his skin, as if it had never existed.
Hear the Uniforms? Hear the Unity… or, Hear some other crap?[2]
He had believed it to be an ordinary, spiritual, array-making object, not expecting that the hidden function of it would be so major. He inwardly decided that once this was done with, he would ask Li Yu or Tang Zhen for more details.
He cracked open the thumbring that Zhe Shi had given him, then peered through the internal mirror to the outside. He saw that amongst the two rows of candles, the white candles and panlong candles representing the demonic cultivators each had one extinguished. After such a brief time, one person from both had already died.
As it was, he had been the quickest to act.
He stared at the extinguished white candle for a short moment, having no idea which perished great power had been involved in it. Cultivation practice was forever difficult; luck, natural talent, diligence, and comprehension were all indispensable for it, and it took hundreds of thousands of years just to finish one primordial soul… only to die like this?
All of a sudden, he was a fox mourning a rabbit’s death, aching at seeing the fate of someone in the same lot.
He clicked the thumbring back together, then proceeded to walk forward. I have no idea what’s going on with Yan Zhengming, either.
They had been apart for no more than a short moment, yet he was already starting to worry. Upon realizing that, he couldn’t help but smile bitterly in self-mockery. “Is this what they call a day of not seeing someone being akin to three autumns of separation?”
All at once, a spurt of dense fog tossed itself into the Ten-Party Array. Snapping back to his senses, he was teleported elsewhere in the blink of an eye.
His mind quickly spun in thought, speculating, Right. A white candle had gone out, meaning a demonic cultivator killed their opponent, just like me. Could it be that I’ll have to face them next?
Right as he landed on ground, a current of overwhelming, omnipresent demonic qi swept towards him. Once Shuang Ren was unsheathed, it practically brought a dragon’s roar along with it, and he solidly shoved out the steel-in-silk move of ‘Seek and Pursue’. He seemed to hit something huge inside the darkness.
At the same time, the spiritual consciousness he had released collided overhead with another one that was tyrannical and sturdy. His heart suddenly jolted; disregarding all else, he snapped out a slender flame from his fingers, lighting up a range of about ten zhang around.
The figure of a black dragon was seen to land, then transform into a familiar human, who stood at a moderate distance of ten paces away.
Han Yuan.
They stood in a deadlock for a moment.
Cheng Qian hadn’t expected that he would run into him so soon, speechless for a time. He pondered for a bit over how he ought to open his mouth and break the deadlock, while also automatically remembering for a bit the white candle that had just gone out.
He suddenly realized that Han Yuan had walked down this path ever since his horizon-covering display at Vermilion Bird Tower. Had any of his steps not been stained with human blood?
Would those burdened with the debts of blood from their teachers and peers ever let them go?
Han Yuan was the first to speak. “I was saying that I would be waiting for ages to meet the next person. Your decisiveness in cutting people down is really no lesser than us infamous Nightmare Travelers, little senior.”
With a flick of his finger, Cheng Qian made the tiny flame floating above his hand explode in midair, turning it into a lotus shape. It slowly floated like a river lantern up above their heads, lighting up the gloomy Ten-Party Array like it was immersed in moonlight. He put Shuang Ren back into its sheath without another glance, lightly knocked its cold iron scabbard against the ground, then sat down supported on it, making a beckoning gesture to the biggest devil in the world. “Come here.”
The other stood unmoving.
“Are you the heart demon, or Han Yuan?” Cheng Qian asked. “Tell Han Yuan to get out here and talk with me.”
‘Han Yuan’ smiled coldly. “Han Yuaaaan… there will come a day that I completely get rid of that trash.”
In spite of saying that, he slightly shut his eyes. Following a short moment, the threatening qi that had infused his eyes with red light was cleared away, and though his gaze was slightly evasive, they were limpid within.
The real Han Yuan silently walked over to his side, then sat down. “Little senior,” he said quietly.
When a young sprout, he hadn’t been much to look at, only being an urchin with bad ideas and dumb laughter. After he had grown up, he still couldn’t be stated to have marks of particular handsomeness.
He was tall in stature, but his cheeks were thin. He wore long, pitch-black panlong robes, he was always tense, he frequently played two roles as the same person; that all resulted in him being covered in an oscillating, nefarious qi, which gave off a weird air.
Cheng Qian looked at the spiraling fog of the oppressive Ten-Party Array above their heads. A short moment later, he drew back his gaze and put it on Han Yuan. “Now that the mess has gotten to this extent, what are you wanting to do?”
Han Yuan didn’t answer, just looking at him deeply.
“Why did you want to jump into the sea in the first place? Why did you run off to mix up with the Nightmare Travelers? Why have you indulged in your heart demon? Hm?”
The other looked down.
“Tang Zhen said that were it not for our Master sealing up our martial grandfather between life and death, you might have gotten the title of Beiming from him one day… since you have so much prestige, why did you go to Fuyao to listen to the mountain’s sounds?”
Han Yuan suddenly grit his teeth hard.
Cheng Qian lightly bumped him with his calf. “What did you hear?”
This time, Han Yuan finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “I heard the thatch on the Hall of Ignorance’s roof flapping, Master’s three-legged sect-rule desk randomly banging on the ground, and a big bird raising its wings up and flapping its feathers. I guess… that might have been Shui Keng.”
“Hall of Ignorance… Master gave each of us a precept. Yours was ‘Solid Rock’, mine was ‘Free and Easy’. He also said that our sect-entry assignment was to copy the sect rules, but you shamelessly said that you were illiterate and refused to write out of laziness.”
Han Yuan looked to be between laughter and tears.
“When you said you wanted to draw out our junior sister’s yao skeleton, were you being sincere?”
The other slowly raised his head.
“Given that you say no, I’ll believe you,” Cheng Qian said, gently.
Back when they had played together in their youths, Han Yuan had been the one chattering on non-stop, while Cheng Qian hadn’t cared to answer, occasionally bestowing himwith perfunctory grunts. Now, however, it looked to be the inverse, changing into Cheng Qian being the one with the incessant interrogation, while Han Yuan cherished his own words like they were gold.
Hearing this, Han Yuan avoided answering, merely speaking slowly. “The hand of the Bureau that prides itself on holding the world aloft… is a big tree with deep roots. No facts have come to light for so many years, and what has is only the tip of the iceberg.”
Cheng Qian listened expressionlessly, seemingly not surprised.
“Oh. You know,” Han Yuan went on, seeing him as so. “As it appears, the reason why our martial grandfather became a demon, and the reason why Island Master Gu died unjustly… do you understand that, as well?”
“I didn’t ask you about—“
“Did you know that on that day at the Immortal Binding Platform, the Bureau’s people were hanging around?” the other interrupted. “Apart from unfortunate sects like yours with only a couple people wandering around, they’re inside sects of all sizes…”
As he had dodged the question yet again, a nameless fire lit up in Cheng Qian’s heart with a bang, going to the very center of his brows. “I didn’t ask you about that!” he enunciated, suppressing his rage.
“Jiang Peng had been introduced to the Soul-Consuming Lamp while traveling abroad,” Han Yuan went on. “At the time, if he hadn’t suppressed the Lamp and fallen into the ghost path, he would be just like those ghosts, turned into a sacrificial victim. Do you know who had passed on the methodology of the ghost path to him, though?”
Cheng Qian hadn’t heard about this before, but he didn’t care in the least right now. His fists that were beside him automatically clenched, and his serene expression finally shattered, unmasking his hidden anger.
“Master said back then that he was the first resentful soul buried beneath the Lamp. Do you know who the second and third ones were?” Han Yuan asked. “Fifty li away from Fuyao Mountain, at Tai Yin, where we are right now… there was a town no one has ever heard of. Jiang Peng had gone mad and killed over fifty villagers… out of every ten houses, nine were emptied, but one family had put their swaddled infant into a basket, then lowered it into a well. After being hidden in it for a full three days, he was fished out by an old beggar that was passing by the side of the road in want of food and drink.”
The other was stunned, sensing that something was on the brink of being revealed.
Why, when intercepting Han Yuan, had the Bureau not set up the Demon Execution Array at his old home of Fuyao Mountain, but insisted upon doing it at the foot of Tai Yin Mountain, fifty li away?
Why, when there were so many beggar children in the world, had their Master taken kindly to Han Yuan alone?
“The child followed the old beggar, turning into a young beggar. Over ten years later, he was brought away by someone he ignorantly believed to be a zhenren in a rundown temple, and from then on, he had a courtyard to live in, cranes to play with, clean clothes to wear, and senior brothers that let him mooch food and drink every day. Even gods wouldn’t have been that happy…” Han Yuan slowly turned to Cheng Qian, gaze falling to his chest. After a long time, he said in a raspy voice, “The path of soul-painting… has nothing.”
At that point, his eyes suddenly changed. It looked like that painfully struggling, evasively lost Han Yuan had vanished yet again, while the tyrant devil occupied his body once more.
He coldly laughed, quiet. “They are the hand that holds the world aloft? Do we insects of that world have to let that hand crush us? Since the Great Dao has to be held up by such a vile hand, why can’t I take a divergent path? Everyone hates me at this point, anyways! No one’s going to forgive me!”
“No one’s going to forgive you?” A string in Cheng Qian’s heart snapped with a twang. Each of his repeated words were heavy as he looked straight into Han Yuan’s eyes. “Who’s not going to forgive you?”
Han Yuan… the heart demon gave a smile full of cynicism. “Don’t our Sect Leader and the rest hate me? If it weren’t for me, the Fuyao Sect wouldn’t have turned into a public target of criticism, and how could our eldest, because of a century of… haha, bitter pining, have been infected with a heart demon, a weakness I took advantage of in Vermilion Bird Tower? And you? Don’t you hate me? Murder is to be avenged. Beneath the thunderstorm in Nanjiang, you admitted as much yourself—“
“Our eldest racked his brains thinking up a way to clean up all that shit you did so that you could come back to the sect! You’re saying he hates you?!” Cheng Qian roared, unable to take this anymore. “If I hated you, I would have never let you talk so much garbage! I would have long sacrificed my sword to kill you!”
His heart was mess of chaos. His never-ending anxieties about how this event was going to end, his bone-piercing disappointment at Han Yuan always shirking the answer of whether he wanted to take Shui Keng’s skeleton, and the old feelings and recollections evoked from the memories of the Mountain-Hearing Array all blended together.
He suddenly tossed Shuang Ren to the side and smashed a fist into the side of Han Yuan’s face. “How could you say that?!”
Cheng Qian picked him up by the collar, then ruthlessly kneed him in the stomach. “How many times did I say that I would tell on you to Master, and how many times did I actually do that? Han Yuan, did you lose your conscience after you became a demon?!”
There were vague tears in the corners of Han Yuan’s eyes, but it wasn’t clear if he was crying, or if they had been forced out of his sockets by the beating.
Cheng Qian pushed him against the wall, the slam making a thud. He snarled, yet to relieve his anger. “Who doesn’t want revenge? Is this your loyalty, then? For the sake of revenge, you ignore everything and cause upheaval in the world, so that countless people will become the same exact ‘insect’ you had been, all because of you? You want to take your junior sister’s bones for revenge? Then why did you give her a Soulseek Needle back then? Why didn’t you take advantage of her being little to just strangle her to death?!”
The pain in his heart suddenly became indescribable. He panted harshly, then staggered back a step, looking like he was standing somewhat unsteadily because of his own rare, acutely vacillating emotions.
He clenched his knuckles that he himself had hit bruises onto, standing frozen for a long time. “Jackass!” he swore.
Han Yuan blocked his face with his hands. His spine appeared to get pulled out of him, as he was slowly collapsing. After hearing that curse, he slid down to the base of the wall, sitting on the ground.
Then, an uncontrolled whimper was heard, completely without prior warning.