Chapter 82: This Venerable One Can’t Believe It

Outside the Fragrance inn of Rainbell Isle stood its willowy

innkeeper, all dressed up with pearl bracelets clinking on her wrists as she

leaned against the door, eating melon seeds fried in snake gall.

Whenever Xuanyuan Pavilion held an auction, most of the visitors

ended up staying at her place, since she was clever on top of being pretty. A

flicker of those beautiful eyes and she could easily guess what her guests

desired.

It was just past noon, and the sun beamed brightly overhead. The

innkeeper spit out some melon seed shells. The auction would be over in

another two hours or so. The inns on Rainbell Isle were all fairly expensive,

and visiting cultivators tended not to stay, so she didn't expect to make much

from rentals today. That was all right. These cultivators, heroes, and whatnot

still had to eat before leaving, and she fully intended to squeeze them for

dinner.

She flicked some bits of fruit peel off her skirt, then turned to yell at

the waiter inside. "Er Fu, wipe the tables and chairs down again, and fetch a

basket of the melon seeds I fried. Put a plate on every table. Gotta get ready

for our guests tonight."

"Alrighty, Boss, right away." The waiter jogged off.

Done with her sunbathing and snacking, the innkeeper grinned

contentedly. She was about to head inside to supervise the work when she

noticed a fast-approaching, black-and-white silhouette at the end of the road.

Once it drew closer, she saw that it was a handsome cultivator dressed in

black who was holding someone in his arms. Nigh instantly, he burst into her

inn at full tilt and in a burning panic.

"A room—room, room, room!"

The waiter gaped. Maybe because the cultivator had appeared so

suddenly and because he was acting so strangely, the waiter could only stare

at him in bewilderment, mouth hanging open.

"I said, I want a room!" Mo Ran roared angrily. "What are you, deaf?

Where's your boss?!"

"Aiyo, Xianjun." The voice of a young woman came from behind him,

a little simpering and a lot apologetic, a voice at which it would be hard to

stay mad. Mo Ran turned around and came face-to-face with the innkeeper's

agreeable smile. "My apologies for the wait. He's new. I am the innkeeper.

Please feel free to come to me if you need anything."

With his dark, handsome eyebrows raised, Mo Ran hurriedly repeated,

"Give me a room!"

The innkeeper looked him over quickly and discreetly. The cultivator

was wearing a cloak, so he was probably an attendee of the Xuanyuan

auction, but the hood had fallen off in his haste, revealing a handsome face

that still had a trace of tender youth. That wasn't important; what was

important was the brocade pouch embroidered with a giant tortoise that was

tied around his wrist.

It was a qiankun pouch from Xuanyuan Pavilion, one they specifically gave

to patrons to allow them to carry purchased goods.

The innkeeper's eyes gleamed. The cultivator had money. Lots of

money.

Next, she glanced at the person in his arms. He was covered in a cloak

and his face was turned away, so she couldn't see what he looked like. But

the innkeeper's eyes were keen as a hawk's, and they swept over those

snow-white robes made of high-quality silk before zeroing in on the hand

peeking out from the wide opening of his sleeve.

Long and slender, porcelain-fine skin, delicate fingertips, shapely

joints. A beauty.

The innkeeper understood immediately. Sure, this was a beautiful man,

but it wasn't like dual cultivation between men was unheard of in the

cultivation world. Nothing to write home about.

"Da Fu, open a room." The innkeeper wasted no time and asked no

questions. Her orders were brisk as she snapped her fingers. "The best one

we have."

Chu Wanning's sickness had come suddenly and without the slightest

warning. It was a good thing they were in Guyueye territory, where good

medicines and physicians were readily available.

The sage doctor's eyes were closed as he took the pulse in Chu

Wanning's wrist with lightly calloused fingertips. For a long time, he didn't

utter a single sound.

Mo Ran could hold it in no longer. "Doctor, how is my shizun?"

"It's not a pressing issue, but…"

Mo Ran seriously couldn't stand people who talked in circles and beat

around the bush. "But what?" he pressed, eyes wide.

"But it's quite strange. Your master's cultivation is remarkable; he's at

a level achieved by few in this world. Yet my careful examination has

revealed that his spiritual core is exceedingly fragile, even more so than that

of a fledgling cultivator still in the foundation establishment stage."

If cultivation was water, then the spiritual core was the vessel holding

that water. Where one's cultivation accrued slowly over time, one's spiritual

core was inborn. It was easier for someone with an innately powerful core to

cultivate, but once one's cultivation reached a certain point, it would begin to

bolster that core. Generally speaking, cultivation and core were

interdependent and complementary. An eminent zongshi like Chu Wanning

should naturally have an extremely robust core, so physicians generally

didn't bother to check such a thing when taking his pulse.

Mo Ran was shocked. "How is that possible?!"

"I thought the same. However, I checked over and over, and it was the

same every time."

"My shizun's spiritual core is weaker than a fledgling cultivator's? Hhow could that be? There's no way! Could you please take another look?

Maybe you made a mistake somewhere."

"I have always been most cautious in my practice, and I have never

said anything of which I am not absolutely certain. If the young xianjun

doesn't believe me, then feel free to get a second opinion. The result will be

the same."

Mo Ran was stunned.

"The issue has arisen precisely because your master's spiritual core is

so fragile," the doctor continued. "He appears to have recently suffered some

sort of influence from a powerful weapon, one that has some sort of

resonance with him yet does not belong to him.

He experienced a rebound as a consequence of that resonance, then lost

consciousness because his core couldn't withstand it. I will prescribe some

medicinal decoctions. Have him take them and get plenty of rest; he will be

fine."

Mo Ran saw the doctor off and came back to sit by Chu Wanning's bed

with his cheek propped up in one hand, watching him in a daze. A weak

core? How was that even possible?

However, while the old man couldn't possibly have known what had

happened at Xuanyuan Pavilion, he had correctly surmised that Chu Wanning

had encountered a powerful weapon. He likely wasn't spouting nonsense.

There was also the matter of "Bugui." Mo Ran had only released a tiny

bit of spiritual energy at Xuanyuan Pavilion when Chu Wanning suddenly

collapsed, so he had been unable to get a chance to see if the long blade was

indeed the holy weapon he had possessed in his past life. But if it was, then

why had Bugui resonated with Chu Wanning? And moreover, why had it

caused a rebound?

Mo Ran stared at Chu Wanning, brooding while his thoughts tied

themselves into a big old knot. He didn't know how much time passed before

Chu Wanning's brows scrunched up, his eyelashes quivering like he was

having another nightmare.

Mo Ran reached out and gently smoothed his brow, though he had no

idea what compelled him to do it. "Shizun…"

Chu Wanning did not respond.

"Shizun… Chu Wanning… I've already lived two lifetimes, but could

it be that there are still things about you that I don't know?"

In short order, the innkeeper finished boiling the medicine in the inn's

kitchen and came upstairs to deliver it.

Mo Ran tasted it—ridiculously bitter, as expected. Chu Wanning hated

bitter things. Mo Ran sighed and called back the innkeeper, who was about to

leave.

"Innkeep, do you have anything sweet?"

"Aye… We make fresh sugar candies, but today's batch is all gone. I

can send someone to go buy some if Xianjun would like."

Mo Ran looked at the steaming medicine and shook his head. "Never

mind, then. The medicine will be cold by then, and it has to be taken hot to be

effective. Thanks, though."

"Ah, no problem. Please feel free to call on me if you need anything

else." Having said that, the innkeeper tactfully left, closing the door on her

way out.

Mo Ran carried the medicine over and set it down by the bed, then sat

at the edge with one hand on his knee. He reached out with the other to help

Chu Wanning up. "Shizun, it's time for your medicine."

Mo Ran had plenty of practice feeding Chu Wanning medicine from his

last lifetime. He held Chu Wanning in one arm so that his shizun leaned

against him, then scooped up a spoonful of the medicine with his other hand,

blew to cool it, and slowly fed it to him.

When he thought about it now, this was the second time since his

rebirth that he had taken care of Chu Wanning. He disliked this person, yet he

felt such unease whenever he got sick. He really couldn't understand it.

"Bitter…" Despite being unconscious, the man in his arms could taste

the medicine. Chu Wanning's eyebrows pulled together, and he turned away,

refusing to drink any more.

Mo Ran was used to this behavior. Holding another spoonful, he

tugged Chu Wanning back around and coaxed him patiently. "One more.

You'll feel better after, here." And fed him another spoonful.

Chu Wanning coughed up half of it, brow furrowing even more. "So

bitter…"

"It's sweet. The next one will be sweet, come, come."

"Nngh…"

"The next one! Promise! It's unbelievably sweet! This venerable one

sent people to find the sweetest syrup in all the land!" Mo Ran was so

distracted cajoling Chu Wanning into drinking the medicine that he forgot

himself for a moment and absentmindedly let words from his past life fall

from his mouth. "It's delicious—you'll regret it if you don't open up. Come

on."

Just like that, he managed to sweet talk Chu Wanning into drinking the

whole bowl. After the last spoonful, Mo Ran let out a breath and was about

to get up and tidy things when there was a sudden flash of white. Before he

could react, a slap landed soundly on his cheek.

"You liar, get the hell out!" Chu Wanning snapped.

Then his head drooped, and he went right back to sleep, leaving Mo

Ran with his mouth hanging half-open, pitifully holding his cheek. He was

about to get mad when the man in his arms groaned softly, like he was

dreaming about something distressing, his face pale.

When Mo Ran saw him like this, he just couldn't be angry. He didn't

have any candy, but his gaze landed on the qiankun pouch sitting at the head

of the bed. Struck by a sudden idea, he took out a bottle of Tapir Fragrance

Dew. Then he tapped Chu Wanning's cheek with his hand, not too gentle but

not too hard, and let that count as revenge.

"Wait here a bit. I'll go make you some sweet dew water to drink."

Chu Wanning didn't respond, so Mo Ran moved to lay him back down.

But when he leaned closer in the process, he heard a low exhale and a

slurred mumble, "It…wronged you…"

Mo Ran froze. "What?"

Chu Wanning's eyes were tightly closed, and his eyelashes shivered

unceasingly, as if he was enduring something excruciating. Blood drained

from his face bit by bit. He seemed to have fallen into another dream, one

that was even more frightening than the last. He shook his head minutely, an

uncharacteristically sorrowful expression appearing on his habitually

impassive face.

"I…it was I…"

For a split second, Mo Ran's heart stuttered erratically. A strange

feeling flooded his chest, as if there was a secret right in front of him, from

which he was separated by only one last layer of haze—a secret he was on

the verge of unveiling. Staring fixedly at Chu Wanning, he asked quietly, "You

what?"

"It was I…who wronged…you…"

Mo Ran felt suddenly disoriented. He didn't know if the dim light of

the candle was making him see things, but he thought he perceived a glimmer

of wetness amidst Chu Wanning's thick eyelashes.

It was I who wronged you.

The words left Chu Wanning's lips as light as mist, but they hit Mo Ran

with all the force of crashing thunder.

Mo Ran abruptly shot up from the bed and went stiff. His pupils

contracted into pinpoints as he stared in disbelief at the man on the bed.

Instantly his expression changed, his heart pounding like a stampede of

horses and hands clenching tightly into fists. In one moment, he felt the blood

in his body catch fire, and in the next, it froze over.

"What did you say? Wh…" After a moment of being paralyzed in

shock, Mo Ran seized Chu Wanning by the throat, his eyes flashing with

danger. The guise of guileless naivety that he had worn since rebirth vanished

into thin air. "Chu Wanning, what did you just say? Say it again! Say it

again!"

It was I who wronged you. I won't blame you, in life or in death.

It was a curse that Mo Ran could never forget, a nightmare that had

haunted him for two lifetimes. How many times had he closed his eyes only

to hear these words sighed by his ear, though the speaker was long gone from

the world?

These were words that Chu Wanning had spoken in their past life only

as he lay dying. So why now would he—

Why would he—

Unless Chu Wanning had also been reborn?!