Chapter 29: This Venerable One Doesn’t Want You to Die

That night, Mo Ran lay in his bed on Sisheng Peak with his hands behind his head. He stared at the roof beams above, completely unable to sleep. Past events played out in his mind, one by one, until finally, in the end, every bit and fragment was just Chu Wanning's face, elegant to the point of frost.

Truth be told, Mo Ran had never understood just how he felt about this person.

The first time he'd seen Chu Wanning had been under the flowering tree in front of the Heaven-Piercing Tower. He had been wearing a loose robe with wide sleeves—the only one out of the twenty elders who wasn't dressed in the fetching silver-blue armor of Sisheng Peak. That day, as he fiddled absentmindedly with the armored claw on his hand with his head lowered, his profile had looked focused yet gentle, like a white cat bathed in warm, golden sunlight.

Mo Ran had stared from afar, unable to look away.

His first impression of Chu Wanning had been positively glowing. But it hadn't held up against the negligence, the punishments, and the bitter harshness that followed, each on the heels of the one before. That white cat's sharp teeth and claws had left Mo Ran covered in wounds.

Mo Ran had been clinging to life by a bare thread when his uncle saved him from that sea of fire. He'd thought that, once on Sisheng Peak, he would find a shizun who would treat him with compassion, who would sincerely care for him.

But however hard he'd tried to please his shizun, however much work he had put in, it was as if Chu Wanning saw none of it. Conversely, the smallest mistakes earned him a round of ruthless lashings, leaving Mo Ran raw and bleeding every time.

Later, he even learned that Chu Wanning scorned him from the bottom of his heart. That person standing under that flowering tree, his robes white as snow, had thought of him as "vile by nature, beyond remedy."

He'd once regarded Chu Wanning as the cold moon in the ninth heaven, had wholeheartedly revered him—adored him. But what was he to that cold moon, really?

A disciple he had no choice but to accept. A despicable lowlife. A worthless child raised in a brothel. A filthy reprobate.

Even though Mo Ran had always assumed a carefree and easygoing demeanor, he'd slowly begun to hate Chu Wanning—a hate mixed with an aggressive unwillingness to yield. He refused to just lie down and take it.

After that, he held on to the resentment he felt as it grew by the day, and he provoked Chu Wanning in the attempt to garner his attention, his praise, his astonishment.

During that time, if Shi Mei had praised him with "well done," he would've flown into the sky with happiness.

But if Chu Wanning had been willing to give him a "not bad," he would've gladly given his life.

However, Chu Wanning had never praised him. No matter how hard Mo Ran tried, how diligent he was, how well he did, his aloof shizun never gave him more than a slight nod before turning his face away.

Mo Ran had been about to lose it. Heaven knew how much he'd wanted to grab Chu Wanning by the face and make him turn around, to force his shizun to look at him, to see him, to take back that "vile by nature, beyond remedy"!

But he had been able to do nothing but kneel before Chu Wanning like a docile stray dog, lowering his head and saying with utmost respect, "This disciple will keep Shizun's teachings in mind."

In front of Chu Wanning, Mo Weiyu had been lowly to the bone. Even if he was a "young master," he was still worthless. He finally understood that someone like Chu Wanning would never look at him with anything but contempt.

Still later, after a great deal of things had happened…

Mo Ran took over Sisheng Peak, then aimed for the highest of the highs and became the first-ever emperor of the cultivation world. Beneath his dark banner, everyone trembled with fear and none dared speak his name in more than the quietest of whispers. No one remembered the stain of his unmentionable origins.

Henceforth, there was no more Mo Weiyu, only Taxian-jun.

Taxian-jun. Everyone hated him—hated him in the extreme. Monstrous Mo Weiyu, may he be damned to eternity without rebirth or redemption!

TaxianjunMoWeiyuTaxianjunMoWeiyuTaxianjun—

Ta. Xian. Jun.

But so what if they were scared? Sisheng Peak still reverberated with the rumble of voices shouting in unison as thousands prostrated before him in front of Wushan Palace, all those heads bowing to him in veneration.

"Long live Emperor Taxian-jun."

He felt fantastic. Until he saw Chu Wanning's face in the crowd.

Chu Wanning's cultivation was by that point nullified. He was tied up below the hall, reduced to a mere prisoner at the bottom of the steps.

Mo Ran had decided to execute him. But he didn't want to grant Chu Wanning a quick and easy death, so he'd shackled his limbs, cut a small gash in the artery of his neck, and enchanted the wound to not congeal. His blood trickled out drop by drop as his life drained away bit by bit.

The sun blazed overhead. The coronation ceremony had been underway for a while, and Chu Wanning's blood should have been nearly drained. With this person's death, Mo Ran would finally be freed from his past; thus, he had purposefully arranged to have him bleed out at his coronation. This way, the moment he became the master of the cultivation world would be the moment Chu Wanning became a lifeless corpse. And everything that had happened in the past would be wiped away.

Perfect.

But why, even at death's door, was that man still so indifferent? Still so elegant as to be only cold… Chu Wanning's face was entirely without color, but his expression remained impassive. When he looked at Taxian-jun, it was with neither praise nor fear. Only revulsion, disdain, and—

Mo Ran thought he must have gone mad, or that Chu Wanning must have gone mad—

And a hint of pity.

Chu Wanning, who was on the verge of death, who had been defeated by Taxian-jun, pitied him! He actually pitied him, he who stood at the apex above all else, who held boundless power. He, he actually—he actually dared!

The rage that had built up in Mo Ran for more than ten years finally drove him mad. Right there in Loyalty Hall—by that point renamed Wushan Palace—in front of the thousands of gathered people, surrounded by the thunder of their acclamation and flattery, he abruptly stood, black robes billowing, and walked down the steps.

In front of all those people, he grabbed Chu Wanning by the jaw, a sweet, yet menacing smile on his twisted face. "Shizun, today is a happy occasion for this disciple. Why aren't you celebrating?"

The thousands of people fell instantly into a deathly silence.

Chu Wanning was neither deferential nor domineering, his face cold as ice as he said, "I have no disciple like you."

Mo Ran burst out laughing. The sound of his unrestrained laughter circled the galleries of the golden hall like so many vultures.

"Shizun is so heartless. This venerable one is disappointed." He continued to laugh as he spoke, his voice resonant. "You have no disciple like me? Then who taught me to cultivate? Who taught me martial skills? And my cold-blooded ruthlessness—who taught me that?! And the whip scars all over my body that still won't fade—let me ask you, who gave me those?!"

He stopped smiling, his tone suddenly vicious, and a cold light in his eyes.

"Chu Wanning! Are you that ashamed of having a disciple like me? Are my bones too lowly or is it my blood that's too filthy? Let me ask you, Chu Wanning, let me ask you—what did you mean by 'vile by nature, beyond remedy'?"

He was going out of his mind, voice twisting as he bellowed.

"You've never seen me as your disciple, never thought anything of me! But I—I once…really did see you as my teacher. I really did respect you. Adored you! Why did you treat me like that? Why did you never spare me so much as a single word of praise? Why was it that no matter what I did, I could never earn even the slightest bit of approval from you?!"

Chu Wanning's entire body shuddered, and his face grew even paler. Those phoenix eyes widened slightly as he stared at Mo Ran. His lips moved, as if he wanted to say something, but at the last, nothing came out.

Everyone who had once been at Sisheng Peak was gone. The last two people left from those bygone days stared at one another, like so.

In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Mo Ran seemed to finally calm down. He closed his eyes, and when they opened, he once again wore that detestable smile that made people shiver. He said, kindly and cordially, "Shizun, haven't you always looked down on me? Haven't you always thought I was lowly?"

He paused, and his gaze swept across the thousands kneeling before his palace like so many crouching dogs. They did so to acknowledge him as the overlord of the cultivation world, above mortal affairs.

Mo Ran smiled faintly. "How about now? Before you die, let me ask you again: In this world, just who is the lowly one, and who is the respectable one? Who's the one stepping on whom? Who won in the end? Who lost?"

Chu Wanning's eyelashes were lowered, as if he was still lost in Mo Ran's confession from a moment ago. Finally, Mo Ran gripped his jaw and forcefully tilted his face up.

But in that instant, Mo Ran froze. It was the first time he'd ever seen regret on Chu Wanning's face. That expression was far too unfamiliar; Mo Ran abruptly pulled back his hand as if he'd been burned. "You…"

Chu Wanning's look was pained. He seemed to be silently suffering some kind of agony that dug into his bones, some sort of anguish that tore apart his organs. His voice was quiet. It floated on the wind, heard by Mo Ran alone. He said, "I'm sorry, Mo Ran. It was this master's fault…"

Suddenly the world fell silent. The sound of the wind, the rustling of the leaves, the rippling of robes, all of it faded away. There was only Chu Wanning's face looking up at him. It was the only thing in the entire world that was clear—all that he could see.

Many things should have passed through his mind at that moment. Glee, smugness, ecstasy. But none of it did. There was but one strange thought in his head, and only that one: When had he become…so much taller than Chu Wanning?

A lot of time really had passed. And many things had changed.

Mo Ran's lips moved haltingly in a whisper. "What…did you just say?"

But Chu Wanning only smiled, a smile that Mo Ran knew yet also did not, and in that pair of phoenix eyes he saw the reflection of his own twisted features.

Then those eyes slowly closed, and Chu Wanning fell backward. In that same instant, Mo Ran gripped his shoulders, his crazed, angry bellow like that of a beast falling to pieces.

"Chu Wanning! Chu Wanning, what did you say? Say it again!"

The person in his arms did not reply, his lips pale as pear blossoms. That handsome face had always looked so aloof, but now, moments before death, it was frozen in a sad smile, a slight curve at the corners of his lips. It was just like the face in Mo Ran's memories, when he'd first seen Chu Wanning in front of the Heaven-Piercing Tower. A small, gentle smile.

"Chu Wanning!"

That gentleness shattered; haitang flowers withered and scattered across the ground.

Mo Ran finally had what he wanted. He had tread on his shizun's life underfoot as he climbed to the top of the world.

But what was this? What was this! The anguish and hatred in his chest only grew worse. What the fuck was this?

A faint black fog gathered in Mo Ran's hand as he quickly tapped Chu Wanning's meridians, sealing the last remaining vestiges of his life.

"Were you hoping to die just like that?" Mo Ran's eyes bulged, his expression vicious. "I'm not done with you, Chu Wanning. I still have a score to settle with you—I'm not done! I'm not fucking done yet! If you don't say it to me clearly—I'll crush Xue Meng, Kunlun Taxue Palace, and everyone left who you wanted to protect! I'll rip them all to shreds! You better think again!"

Forget about the ceremony, and screw the thousands of people still kneeling in front of him. He had changed his mind. He no longer wanted Chu Wanning to die. He hated Chu Wanning, and he wanted him to live—live…

In one sweeping motion, he picked up this person who had lost too much blood, and he evoked his qinggong to jump onto the tall overhanging eaves in a single bound, his robes fluttering like a lone eagle unfurling its wings. He flew rapidly across one roof after another, headed straight for the southern peak—straight for the Red Lotus Pavilion, where Chu Wanning had once lived.

That place had an abundance of spiritual energy and numerous medicinal herbs. Mo Ran was going to bring Chu Wanning back.

A person had to be alive to be hated; if that person died, there would no longer be a reason to hate them. Had he been out of his mind earlier, when he wanted to kill Chu Wanning with his own hands?

If Chu Wanning died, then what would he even have left in this world…?

Mo Ran lay in bed, the taste of past memories lingering on his tongue. It was already late at night, but he couldn't sleep a wink.

Mo Ran got up, washed his face, got dressed, and with a lantern in hand, headed toward Yanluo Hall.

Chu Wanning had without a doubt just carelessly bandaged his wounds before going there for his kneeling punishment. Mo Ran knew how he was—stubborn to a fault and unyielding to boot, never giving even an iota of consideration as to whether his own body could take it—and Xue Meng couldn't have stopped him even if he tried.

Sure enough, a small lamp was visible from outside Yanluo Hall. It burned by itself as the candle wax dripped slowly. Chu Wanning knelt with his back facing the door, his posture straight and upright like a pine.

When Mo Ran saw this figure, he felt a twinge of regret. It was the middle of the night—what was he doing, coming to see Chu Wanning? Had he gone mad? But he was already there, and it would have felt silly to just turn around and leave again.

He thought it over and settled on a compromise. He lightly set the lantern down by his feet. He wouldn't leave, but he wouldn't go in either. Standing outside the window, he propped his elbows on the frame, rested his cheeks in his hands, and stared at Chu Wanning from far away.

The copper bells hanging from the corners of the roof swayed gently, and the sweet fragrance of flowers and plants filled the night air. The two of them—one standing, one kneeling—were separated by a red lattice window and by the empty silence of the hall.

If this had been before his rebirth, Mo Ran would have had the authority to stride into the hall and order Chu Wanning to stop reflecting and go back to rest. If Chu Wanning refused, he would have had the capacity to seal the movement of his limbs and forcibly carry him off.

But right now, he had neither the authority nor the capacity. He wasn't even as tall as Chu Wanning.

Mo Ran's head was all messed up. He watched that person from outside the window, but the person inside never noticed. He couldn't see Chu Wanning's face, and Chu Wanning couldn't see his.

And so the white cat knelt all night, never turning around.

And so the dumb dog stood all night, never once leaving.