Time seemed to have rewound to twenty years ago, back when a little child in a cave had woven a little grass bug and teased, “Hey, hey, Little Li-zi, c’mon smile.”
They had once been so innocent.
One had been as white paper, utterly free of worries, not understanding a thing. One had had just a bit of sadness in their hearts that they’d forget about the moment that their friend outside called their name.
That moment, Shi Wuduan had the strange feeling that nothing had happened at all; neither of them had bled so much, neither of them had ever had such a crimson scar on their chests; they’d met just yesterday. They could holler the other’s nickname from afar, then go off hand-in-hand and frolic through the mountains.
Just why… did people have to grow up?
If they could live forever in their youth, did it mean they’d never worry, never hate, never think so much, never fight so violently against the whole world, never carry so many burdens on their back, never have to part ways with or cross weapons with the friend they’d once been so close with?
Did it mean that they could run when they wanted, escape when they wanted, laugh and gaze at the world with curious eyes, living full of joy, only pestered by the most insignificant annoyances?
Was it better, after all, not to understand so much?
If food was left over, it’d mold in three days. If fruit fell into the fields, it’d rot in two days. If tea was left out overnight, it’d become undrinkable.
If a person left their heart in their stomach for decades, would it also decay, go bad… or even need to be thrown out?
Shi Wuduan tried many times. His mouth twitched upwards a few times, yet never managed to form a smile. A moment later, he said quietly, “I can’t smile.”
Bai Li stepped forward cautiously, found that Shi Wuduan didn’t seem displeased, then neared him like a quavering little creature tiptoeing into another’s’ territory. He walked all the way up to Shi Wuduan, then slowly squatted down so that he was on eye level with him.
Shi Wuduan suddenly understood what Great Master Zhiye meant when he said that one would be born anew after they suffered agonizing pain and their ‘blood and soul returned to their rightful place.’ He found that, in that moment, Bai Li’s gaze was crystal clear. That nerve-wracking cruelty could no longer be seen in his eyes. He seemed to be, once more, the slightly temperamental fox from Cangyun Valley, whose love and hate was so pure.
Those eyes were as obsessed as the Demon Lords, but gentle and peaceful as the rabbit’s black eyes.
Bai Li asked softly, “What’s wrong?”
Shi Wuduan suddenly looked away as a sour feeling roiled in his chest, like that burning pain hadn’t passed yet. He nearly blacked out from the sensation, but he clutched fiercely at his chest, not making a single noise.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Bai Li gently grasped his hand in one of his own, and reached the other behind his back, circling him in a tentative embrace. But, as if he was afraid of being too presumptuous, his hand paused in midair.
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His emotions were a mess and he didn’t know what to do. All he had left was bitter laughter; laughing at all the grievance he’d felt in the twenty years he’d marched alone against razor gales and cutting hail. Who knew that, in the end, his life could be so bitter, so extremely bitter, and so unsightly.
No one to speak with, no one to tell. All he could do was pretend he was unshakeable, from the beginning to the end.
Bai Li sighed and felt he might’ve done something wrong, or perhaps had been tricked by that skeevy old monk — Shi Wuduan’s laughter had utterly strung his heart up in mid air, and made it impossible to lower back down.
He then tightly embraced Shi Wuduan, out in the wilderness where there was no sign of people; embraced him like their lives depended on it… like he wasn’t in the rather awkward position of being the Demon Lord, and like he wasn’t the elusive Lord Sixth.
Bai Li didn’t know when it had begun, but for a while now, the front of his robes had been soaked through already. He could feel the warm liquid seeping through against his chest.
When he wanted to make Shi Wuduan cry, he’d laugh coldly. Now that he wanted to cheer him up and make him smile, he’d managed to cheer him to sobs.
Bai Li’s thoughts had already drifted thousands of leagues away as he hugged that person and stared off into the distance. For an instant, he was utterly confused. He thought, what am I doing? What have I been struggling for, all these years?
The loftiest throne and the most fearsome name, they all seemed like such a joke.
Only at the end of the end, when they leaned against each other’s scar-riddled bodies, could they finally find a moment of peace. So precious and long-awaited was it that he couldn’t bear to move, lest he shatter it. He sat there, basking in that serenity, as if he could remain in that moment till the heavens and earth crumbled away.
I know now, that I was wrong, Bai Li thought. His arms tightened around Shi Wuduan — but you bastard, how could you be so stubborn? Were you always right? Do you have the guts to concede at all?
Then he lowered his head and gently shifted his shoulders, the movement tilting Shi Wuduan’s head upwards slightly. At some time, he’d already fallen asleep.
He seemed at the end of his tether already. His brows were deeply furrowed, the crease between them deep and near permanent.
At a glance, he could tell that his sleep wasn’t restful. Bai Li lifted a finger to his brows and lightly smoothened out his frown as he thought, only those with a guilty conscience have bad dreams. You’ve always been so smart, shouldn’t you understand by now?
Or perhaps you do understand… you just can’t accept it.
Bai Li recalled how, when they were young, every time they argued, it was Shi Wuduan who backed down first. Even when he’d fooled him into thinking he was a girl, Shi Wuduan had forgiven him in the space of a sentence.
Then this time… I suppose it’s my turn to yield.
Bai Li adjusted him into a more comfortable position and slowly leaned back till he was lying on the grass.
He closed his eyes, his thoughts bittersweet — fucking hell, is this what ‘every dog has its day’ means?
Then, as the warm sunlight shone on his face, the corners of his mouth rose ever so slightly.
Though really, it’s no big deal — Bai Li said to himself, at least I can flippantly laugh at myself, doesn’t that count as a win?
Shi Wuduan had lost control, but the fire he lit kept to its course. The fourth lantern in this vast continent had already been set up through the use of Xia Duanfang’s subordinates — it was the vital road connecting the north and south, the Dagu Road.
The road had been built way back during the reign of the dynasty’s second emperor. It began in the capital of Pingyang, went east around Sanyang Pass, and ran through Huzhou and Lanzhou before ending in Huaizhong. Whether one was deploying troops or shipping grain, that road was unavoidable. It was vigorously guarded by the three large garrisons that lined it at Xunan, Sanyang Pass, and Zhuzhou with the aid of the sect cultivators to guarantee that neither natural disaster nor war could cut the road off. Unless one of the cities along the road was taken by enemy forces, it would always be open as usual, and extremely difficult to sabotage.
If one wanted to pass the checkpoints, they needed travel papers and plaques, or else they’d be stringently searched or even imprisoned.
It just so happened that Zou Yanlai of the Mi Sect, after the emperor had deemed a criminal and sent him to the northwest, was traveling on Dagu Road, on his way to meet up with Zhang Zhixian and help sort out the mess in that region.
The day he left was a clear, cloudless day. No one sent him off. No one even knew that that day, a slow, trudging oxcart bore him away on that ancient, dusty path.
People had once looked up to him, considered him a hero. He’d once been a respected strategist, determined to prevail. And yet he found that even heroes needed fortune on their side.
Just how downtrodden could a person be?
An unacknowledged genius, or perhaps… his wings had been snapped off before he even began his great undertaking?
No one knew what Zou Yanlai was thinking in that moment. He sat silently in the cart, his face full of stubble, staring vacantly at the wobbling roof. Even his anger was smothered under the weight of his despondence, popped like a bubble.
After who knew how long, the man, once so lofty he could manipulate hordes of demons like puppets on a string, twitched and looked to his side, as if he’d suddenly come back to life.
Then he mumbled, “Where’re we now?”
The cart driver cautiously replied, “Sir, we’ve already left Xunan and crossed the Sanyang Pass. We’ll pass by the borders of Ji’an soon.”
They’d already left Sanyang Pass….
Zou Yanlai suddenly clasped a hand over his face and laughed, the sound quiet and muffled as if it was stuck in his throat. It got hoarser and hoarser, till at the end, it seemed hysterical.
He laughed and laughed, until tears streamed down his face, through the cracks between his fingers. It was salty and bitter.
How could one discard their bow when the birds yet flew?
… Long live our wise, brilliant emperor, may he live long.
At that moment, the cart suddenly stopped, nearly flinging Zou Yanlai against the door. He heard the horse’s frenzied neighs and the driver’s panicked shouting.
Zou Yanlai calmed himself and suppressed his emotions. He asked, “What’s going on?”
A long while later, he heard a guard say from outside the door, “Sir, I’m afraid something’s happened up ahead.”
“What?” Zou Yanlai flung aside the door curtain. The moment he showed his face, a strange bird swooped down and clawed at his face. Startled, he ducked away. Then he noticed that the sky was utterly black, not a star to be seen. The sun, which had shined so radiantly not long ago, was now black. Thunder rolled across the dark clouds teeming with strange, pitch-black birds. Upon closer examination, they looked like flesh-eating crows. They circled overhead, eerily terrifying.
Zou Yanlai’s heart lurched. His first thought was that something had happened to Dagu Road. But a second later, he came to his senses and realized that, with General Song standing in the way, Shi Wuduan’s reach didn’t yet extend so far. For a moment, he was nonplussed, trying to puzzle out what kind of illusion this was; he knew that it was aimed at him.
Suddenly, he heard a tearing sound come from behind him. He spun around but found that the cart driver and guard had disappeared as if they’d never existed in the first place.
So, Shi Wuduan really did intend to completely exterminate the sects. Zou Yanlai scoffed coldly and drew his sword. He strode towards the northwest — he’d seen this array before, it was a miniature living array called the ‘Lesser Accumulation Array.’
Aiyah, translator-nim! Thank you for this chapter. I think I spent the rest of this book crying. Only the first few chaps are stress-free.😭😭
In a sense, some people believe a mentally ill patient somehow have broken soul (especially in few chinese book I’ve read)
Thank you for the chapter!
Ycf kbeiv mgs lc bnfgktfiwlcu pbs jcv ijeut lc bnfgktfiwlcu rbggbk. ❤️🩹
what language is that? 😂
It’s obviously Demon Speak 😁
💙💙💙
im a crying mess… i love how it focuses on SWD youth and BL youth then A LOT OF ADULT SHIT COMES IN then they seemed like a whole different person. BL obsessions disappeared, he got tired. Our demon Lord become a softie as always and SWD cried 🥲 I still can’t believe it…
Thank u for the chapters!!!
این فصل… من می توانم برایش بمیرم. قسمت مورد علاقه من زمانی بود که بالاخره همدیگر را فهمیدند و در آغوش گرفتند. به نظر می رسد که تمام زیبایی داستان در این فصل ریخته شده است. ممنون از ترجمه