A crisp, cracking sound was the only prelude to a wave of extremely horrifying aura engulfing the surrounding area. Ancient trees toppled as countless beasts cowered. In a single instant, the world seemed to have turned upside down.
The man had already stopped breathing the first time Chang Ye brought down his blade. Jiang Yinghe witnessed every detail. He saw how his youngest disciple’s broken fingers struggled to grasp the handle, how the dull blade smashed easily into the flesh of the cultivator.
Chang Ye’s hands tightly gripped the only sharp weapon in this cave. His expression remained sober but his eyes gradually darkened.
One stab, two stabs, then three…
The man had died long ago, his body smashed into pulp. Blood and guts mingled with the water and oozed out. The bloody droplets on the blade were thrown off and stained Chang Ye’s cheeks.
But he didn’t stop.
He was clearly venting his anger, but every stab wound made it harder and harder to breathe. The scene before Jiang Yinghe was dyed in red as blood seeped into every stony crevice.
Chang Ye was soaked in blood.
His lacerated skin, his fractured bones, all his surface injuries showed signs of recovery.
But the rest, like the innocence, goodwill and unconditional trust that led him into this trap, continued to fester.
Blood dripped from his ink-coloured hair onto the ground.
The corpse in front of him was no longer recognizable. It was closer to minced meat than a human. Finally, Chang Ye’s hand slipped and the blade plunged into the ground.
He stilled.
Chang Ye blankly took in the sea of red before him, thinking about who knows what. He didn’t seem to feel that anything was wrong. In fact, he even showed a slight smile to the human he had saved—like he always did.
A few crows cawed outside the cave.
Only the sound of thin, shaky breathing broke the silence inside the stone cave.
Tears mingled into the pools of blood that covered the floor.
When Chang Ye cried before, it was always to act spoiled in front of his shizun, or to beg his forgiveness. Jiang Yinghe might feel heartache, but he rarely believed his little disciple was truly aggrieved.
But now, Jiang Yinghe watched him desperately wipe at his tears and cough out blood. The youth could only kneel on the ground and cry so hard he couldn’t say a word.
Jiang Yinghe wanted to hug him, but he couldn’t even touch his hands.
In the end, Chang Ye found a quiet corner and curled up to rest. He had overexerted himself after just awakening his bloodline.
Jiang Yinghe sat beside him and watched over him.
The blood on Chang Ye’s clothes had dried, and there were haphazard streaks of crimson on his cheeks from all the wiping. His fingers had already reconnected themselves thanks to the powerful regeneration ability of Tianhou. Only flesh wounds remained.
Jiang Yinghe wondered what the youth would dream of from now on. Was this the point where his dreams would no longer be filled with spiritual fruits, food, or fond childhood memories from his time with the tribe? Would he endlessly relive this especially dark night, haunted by the smile of that man as he broke his fingers?
But Jiang Yinghe was powerless here. He could only continue to observe.
He sat beside Chang Ye, watching the wounds on his little disciple’s body heal one by one. The light of the cold moon approached Chang Ye’s legs, but it could never reach him.
At a later time, the youth changed back into his kitten form and curled up in the corner. He covered his two bloody paws with his fluffy tail.
Jiang Yinghe remembered the many things that Chang Ye had done before, like how he turned into a kitten and approached with teary eyes to beg for attention when he was ignored.
How scared he must have been of being thrown away, abandoned.
Jiang Yinghe looked down at the ray of moonlight before him for the rest of the night.
Then, Jiang Yinghe watched as Chang Ye’s cultivation grew by leaps and bounds after his bloodline awakened. He watched him leave this place of solitude and appear before the masses.
Chang Ye had always loved to smile, but everyone who knew him well dreaded that expression of his. Devil King Tianhou might appear to be eternally simple and kind, but he was undboudetely the most scheming, insidious and cunning one of them all.
He climbed up step by step to become the King of the Devil race, a rival on equal footing with the Devil God of the time, Hundun. Chang Ye’s influence spread from devil territory along to the rest of the world, until no place was safe from his sight. All who betrayed him would have everything taken from them, until they were eventually sacrificed to his sword.
The original name of his sword was Yuanhen Hui.
The higher he went, the more he became entangled with what he hated the most, unable to extricate himself.
This continued until Chang Ye and the Devil God turned on each other. Their battle shook the entire mortal realm. On the eve of war, Chang Ye changed the name of his sword. He abandoned the covert schemes he was best at and everything else as well.
The devils willing to die for him watched as Devil King Tianhou sealed the Devil God in the Endless Sky Watchtower with a single swing of his sword. He almost shattered his opponent’s devil core before plunging through the clouds and into the mortal realm.
Shortly afterwards, a snowy plain was formed where Tianhou fell. For ten thousand years it grew larger and larger, frozen for eternity.
At this point everything dissipated.
The mirror became empty once more.
Jiang Yinghe withdrew his divine sense. He closed his eyes and pinched his brow. From the night Chang Ye awakened onwards, this story became incredibly depressing. Jiang Yinghe could tell as he watched his little disciple wield that blade and make all the devils who slighted him bow in submission—
Chang Ye was never truly happy.
Jiang Yinghe steadied his mind and slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was a little snow-white, long-haired cat coming up to rub against him and kiss him.
Jiang Yinghe’s sinking heart was instantly healed for the most part. He brought the white cat into his arms and couldn’t help but squish his little paws. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me now…”
First forced to become a stray, then a wanderer who was abused. After finally finding a home, he had to constantly worry about whether he would be abandoned…
Jiang Yinghe considered everything from the little cat’s perspective. He found it all far too tragic.
Just when the white cat’s eyes glittered and he intended to change back into human form, a shockwave of spiritual energy suddenly burst out from somewhere in Lan Ruo Temple. It swept through the room, toppling everything in its way and extinguishing all the incense.
Jiang Yinghe looked up in that direction. He heard the little monk in the temple knocking urgently at the door. “Jiang Xianjin, the Abbot is asking for you to come over. Hun Yuan Xianjun, he…”
Not waiting for the little monk to finish, the door to the meditation room suddenly opened. The person inside had already vanished from sight.
—-
When Jiang Yinghe rushed to the scene, the situation was already largely under control.
Tong Guiyu was still radiating shockwaves of spiritual energy, but each one after the first was contained within the room by a boundary of pitch black ghostly energy.
Chan Qing stood to one side. His gaze shifted occasionally between Qin Jun, who had crossed his arms and was giving off a ghostly aura, and Huai Qing Zhenren, who refused to let go of Tong Guiyu’s hand. As a monk, he really was at a loss for words.
Jiang Yinghe carefully examined the shockwaves of spiritual energy within. He frowned slightly. “It’s already come to this, even after using the Buddhist secret method… We can’t delay it any longer, the decision has to be made now.”
Chan Qing shifted his Buddhist beads and looked down. “Amitabha Buddha.”
It was even more inappropriate for the Abbot to interfere in the love affairs of He Huan Sect on Lan Ruo Temple grounds. He could only stop here.
Jiang Yinghe entered within the boundary. He took a few steps closer before he saw Chou Yongzhou’s turquoise outer robe. The man’s normally gentle and warm eyebrows were furrowed. He only slowly loosened his fingers upon noting Jiang Yinghe’s arrival. His sleeve gently separated from the corner of Tong Guiyu’s robes.
“Jiang Xianjun.” Chou Yongzhou rose to greet him.
Jiang Yinghe nodded slightly, not wanting to say anything more than necessary. “This master did not intend to ask Zhenren if you could bear to wait hundreds or even thousands of years, but I have been friends with this man for more than a millennia. He must dissipate his cultivation and reincarnate under my protection today. Only then will he have a chance to survive.”
“Zhenren, step back.”
Chou Yongzhou was startled. When he recovered he immediately shifted back a good distance. He watched as Jiang Yinghe sat down on one side and set up a protective formation.
As the formation activated, everything, including the shockwaves of spiritual energy, Tong Guiyu’s shaking Dao heart, and even his figure, gradually blurred together and started to break up.
Chou Yongzhou remained nearby. As expected of the representative medical cultivator of Yao Wang Valley, he radiated the light scent of herbs and soft spiritual energy. Only the hesitance in his complicated gaze betrayed his nervousness.
The glow faded as the spirit dissolved.
Deprived of the support of his divine soul, Tong Guiyu’s body scattered like common ashes to the wind. Jiang Yinghe sent the soul into the cycle of reincarnation. Then he picked up the Hongyan sword left behind in the dust.
Even though Hongyan was normally fond of beauty, it remained unresponsive and silent now.
Jiang Yinghe reached out and caressed its blade, his gaze coming to rest on the pale pink sword pendant still attached to the hilt. He turned to look at Chou Yongzhou.
The other was just as warm as he was during their first meeting, but traces of daze and despondency muddled his gaze. Chou Yongzhou didn’t not ask for anything, not even the sword pendant. He simply bowed to Jiang Yinghe once again before taking his leave.
Jiang Yinghe nodded gently and watched his figure gradually grow distant. Then he heard Abbot Chan Qing suddenly speak.
“Huai Qing Zhenren was just an opportunity.”
“What do you mean?”
“How can a person missing their passion root completely cultivate their Dao heart?” Chan Qing looked at Jiang Yinghe, “This is true of you as well.”
Jiang Yinghe was stunned. Before he could ponder this statement, he heard Chan Qing call out “Amitabha Buddha” again, and continue, “Tong Xianjun had a good match before him, but his Dao heart prevented him from embracing it. If he insists on continuing to cultivate the path of harmony, this problem will be impossible to resolve.”
Jiang Yinghe recalled the look of worry on Chou Yongzhou’s face and the several conversations he had had with Tong Guiyu. He had a rough idea of that person’s nature. “A good match? Can you tell me why you think so?”
To Jiang Yinghe, he felt that Chou Yongzhou was not considerate or passionate enough, despite being gentle. During their meetings, the other never showed much emotion, keeping it all bottled up inside and hidden from others.
Chan Qing said, “Huai Qing Zhenren sacrificed himself to save Tong Xianjun from his qi deviation. According to this monk’s knowledge, the Yao Wang Valley technique he used…”
“Abbot, please wait a moment.” Jiang Yinghe suddenly felt that he had misunderstood something, “Sacrificed himself… Tong Guiyu might have been promiscuous, but he was very beautiful. Why describe it as a sacrifice?”
Chan Qing paused and looked at him with slight surprise. He stopped himself from saying something before falling silent for quite some time. “…Huai Qing Zhenren’s foundation was stained due to their conflicting cultivation methods. He fell down half a realm.”
A tainted foundation… It was true that the cultivation methods of Yao Wang Valley and He Huan Sect didn’t mesh. After all, He Huan Sect’s roots rested in taking in from the outside to replenish oneself.
Jiang Yinghe’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. He suddenly remembered when these shockwaves would appear. Only the party on the receiving end of the He Huan Sect cultivation method would…
His mind went blank as subconsciously pursued, “He…He’s the bottom?”
Tong Guiyu was a top??
Chan Qing didn’t understand what he was saying. “…What does that mean?”
Jiang Yinghe was silent for a moment. “It’s nothing. The only one mistaken was me.”
…Why did it seem like even monks knew Tong Guiyu’s preference better than him??
Author’s Corner
HeHe: I thought we were both gay bottoms.
Li Huanhan: I thought so as well.
Qin Jun: Me too.
Chang Ye: …Me three. Moving on, which sword do you think is sharper for cutting down Tong Guiyu?