Gui Mao had intended to go to bed early today. After a cursory rinse under the waterfall to wash off his tattered, blood-soaked clothes, he was the first to roll onto the communal bunk.
But as the others returned from their trials, the room filled with a ceaseless cacophony of groans, sobs, and curses. Even Gui Mao, known for having the best temperament among his peers, began to feel a sense of stifling irritation. They were all just boys of eleven or twelve, covered in wounds and devoid of patience; every day, someone would break under the torture, howling in agony. Compared to the daytime slaughter where one recognized no kin, this sanctuary of exposed vulnerability and resentment felt more like a living purgatory.
It wasn't that he looked down on them.
It was simply that these boys, who cried and made a fuss over their pain, usually didn't last more than a few days before meeting the King of Hell. When they died, new recruits would inevitably take their place. Gui Mao’s cohort had started with a full quota of sixty; of those who had entered with him and survived to this day, barely a dozen remained.
Gui Mao considered himself a carefree, somewhat heartless person. He was long accustomed to smiling as he helped bury his brothers, yet listening to these cries for too long left a hollow sense of aimlessness in his chest. These boys fought desperately to stay alive, while he had never harbored much hope or even a strong attachment to existence. He didn't truly know what he was striving for every day.
Unable to suppress his restlessness, Gui Mao rose. Without even donning a tunic, he stepped out of the room bare-chested.
As usual, a figure sat by the door in a daze. Following his routine, Gui Mao gave him a casual wave. Walking into the courtyard, he gathered his internal breath and leapt onto the pavilion at the eastern end. He climbed floor by floor until he reached the very top, sitting on the upturned eaves with one leg crossed over the other.
Gazing further east, he spotted a familiar silhouette.
The sky was deepening into dusk, the evening clouds reflecting the setting sun. A figure sat upright and cross-legged on the stone steps beneath a corridor, meticulously wiping a sword.
The adjacent courtyard housed the seniors who were exactly one term ahead of Gui Mao. He had inquired about this person’s rank; he was Geng Chen.
Geng Chen’s routine was incredibly disciplined. He was almost always there after daily training, either meditating or cleaning his blade. He stood his ground like a monolith, rarely speaking, his movements possessing a steadiness and resolve that defied his age.
In Night Walk, few used swords, and even fewer practiced solid internal cultivation. Every day of training was a brush with death; surviving today didn't guarantee tomorrow. Internal cultivation was time-consuming and slow to show results—it was a luxury most couldn't afford. Since "an open spear is easy to dodge, but a hidden arrow is hard to defend against," everyone else preferred to master underhanded, lethal tricks to secure a sudden victory and stay alive.
Thus, when Gui Mao first saw someone in the neighboring courtyard using a sword, he had maliciously wondered how long it would take for the boy to die.
Yet, while the colleagues around Gui Mao were replaced wave after wave, that sword-wielding youth next door seemed as though he would never vanish.
He later learned through inquiries that Geng Chen’s proficiency with hidden weapons and poisons was also top-tier for his cohort.
He was truly a strange person—resilient, powerful, yet upright and honorable. He seemed entirely out of place in Night Walk.
Gradually, Gui Mao found that the stability of that silhouette possessed a fascinating, soothing quality. Whenever he felt agitated, he only needed to climb to the roof and watch for a while to find peace.
Geng Chen finished wiping his sword with meticulous care and began to meditate. As Gui Mao watched, he accidentally drifted off to sleep.
He had a brief, dull dream. When he woke and wiped the drool from his lip, the man was still meditating in the same spot, hasn't moved an inch. It was as if time itself refused to flow around him.
A sudden sense of guilt welled up in Gui Mao.
After the third watch, the lights in the neighboring courtyard flickered out one by one. A smiling youth emerged from a room and sat beside Geng Chen. This was Yi Wei. He also used a sword, and his rank marked him as one of the top elites of that term. Gui Mao had occasionally seen him practicing in the courtyard; his movements lacked any bloody killing intent, resembling instead a solitary crane amidst drifting clouds—he possessed a natural, lofty grace.
However, Gui Mao rarely saw him actually training. His skills seemed to be the product of innate genius. Combined with that shallow smile that lacked both warmth and sincerity, he always carried an air of casual disdain and frivolity.
Yi Wei and Geng Chen were both swordsmen, yet they felt like two opposite extremes.
At this moment, Yi Wei sat beside Geng Chen, propping his chin on his hand and watching him with squinted, smiling eyes as he chatted idly. Geng Chen remained silent with his eyes closed, continuing his cultivation, giving no indication of whether he was listening.
After a while, Yi Wei couldn't fight off a yawn. He stood up and nudged Geng Chen to return to the room to rest.
Seeing the lights go out in that courtyard, Gui Mao stretched and dropped back to the ground.
Everyone in his own room was already asleep, save for the occasional muffled groan. As he reached his door, the person he had greeted on his way out was still sitting on the threshold, staring into space. Gui Mao paused before him for a moment, fished a plum candy out of his pocket, and pressed it into the boy's hand.
Night Walk had a minor reward system: the top performers of each trial could ask the higher-ups for a small favor. Some chose a day off, while others asked for high-quality medicinal salves. Gui Mao had been lucky enough to take the top spot a few times, and he always traded it for food. He had always felt that there would be plenty of time for eternal sleep after death, so there was no need to ask for rest while alive. As for medicine, no matter how effective it was, one might not live long enough to use it; it was better to enjoy the wine while it lasted. These plum candies were obtained in such a manner.
He wasn't familiar with this person who often sat dazed outside his room. Although he thought he had asked for his name once, Gui Mao was popular, and the name of this silent, dull fellow had slipped his mind almost immediately. Whenever they crossed paths, if Gui Mao was in a good mood, he would toss him some snacks.
Since he was always in a decent mood after watching Geng Chen, he gave him something almost every time.
Night Walk was not a peaceful place. There were precedents for trainees attacking one another during rest periods, yet no matter what food Gui Mao gave him, the boy always accepted it and swallowed it without hesitation.
Gui Mao thought that such a complete lack of wariness suggested the boy might be a bit slow in the head.
After handing over the candy, Gui Mao lay back on the communal bunk and fell asleep shortly after.
The person at the door didn't move, sitting there through the entire night.
Life, accompanied by the scent of blood, passed with a strange stability for a long time until the end of the year approached. Many people outside couldn't survive the winter, and Night Walk was no different. The year-end was a major hurdle in Night Walk, marked by one brutal trial after another.
Gui Mao’s cohort was now in its fifth year. According to the rules, there would be a "Great Trial" at the end of the year.
No one knew what it would entail, but according to the information Gui Mao gathered from the neighboring courtyard, only eight out of sixty people had survived the Great Trial of the previous term.
Gui Mao stroked his chin as he observed the colleagues around him—who were both friends and foes—and felt that he might not be lucky enough to rank among the survivors. This mediocre existence of his was perhaps coming to an end.
He felt no fear, nor could he say he felt regret; he only remembered that he had never actually spoken to Geng Chen.
Gui Mao was always straightforward. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, his feet were already moving in that direction.
He stood outside the other courtyard for a while, but unfortunately, Geng Chen wasn't there. Instead, the perpetually smiling Yi Wei patted him on the shoulder and asked, "Are you Gui Mao from the next term? What are you doing here?"
Gui Mao asked in confusion, "You know me?"
Yi Wei laughed. "You're always staring at me from the high pavilion. Naturally, I had to look into your background to make sure I wouldn't die without knowing why."
Gui Mao clicked his tongue. "Who was staring at you!"
"I'm so good-looking, it's only natural for you to look. Why be shy?" Yi Wei gave a brilliant smile, full of self-satisfaction, then added, "So, why have you come?"
Gui Mao tilted his head. "My Great Trial is coming up soon. I don't know if I'll make it through, so I wanted to ask the seniors for some advice."
"Oh, the Great Trial." Yi Wei stroked his chin, pondering for a moment before saying with confidence, "Don't worry. A heartless, carefree person like you will pass quite easily."
Gui Mao didn't believe him. "Hey, how would you know?"
Yi Wei maintained that same insincere smile and said with certainty, "Because I'm not only good-looking, I'm also very smart."
Gui Mao sighed inwardly: *This person is so brazen in his speech. No wonder Geng Chen rarely pays him any mind.* Yet, despite how much Yi Wei deserved a beating, Geng Chen never struck him, which showed that Geng Chen’s temper was truly excellent.
With this mix of praise and internal criticism, his favorable impression of Geng Chen rose even higher.
Yi Wei sighed. "Alas, you are mocking me in your heart."
Caught in the act, Gui Mao quickly defended himself. "I didn't say a word."
"I am clearly so much smarter than all of you, yet I have to be mocked by you fools. The world is truly unjust." Yi Wei lamented his lot for a few moments, then suddenly said, "I can also tell you this: Geng Chen will become 'Night Chasm' in the future, and I will become 'Night Monarch.' When the titles are finalized, remember to vindicate me in your heart. I really am a smart man; I'm not joking."
Gui Mao was stunned. It took him a moment to process the words. "Geng Chen wants to take the title of 'Night Chasm Blood Demon'..."
Yi Wei shook his head. "No, he wants the title of 'Night Monarch Imperial Sovereign.' Unfortunately, he refuses to listen to me, so he won't be able to get it."
Gui Mao was bewildered. "I don't understand. But since you're so confident, can't you help him achieve his wish?"
Yi Wei gave a bitter smile. "So what if I'm smart? There are many things I cannot do. Just as no matter how powerful Geng Chen is, there are many things he cannot do."
Gui Mao returned to his room in a daze, unable to make sense of Yi Wei’s words for a long time.
How could there be things Yi Wei and Geng Chen couldn't do? Was anything in this world really that difficult?
Looking at himself, when he wanted roast chicken, he asked for it as a reward and got it—it was delicious. When he wanted fried skewers, he asked and got them—they were delicious. When he wanted the "Super Invincible Seafood Buddha Jumps Over the Wall"... he got a regular Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, but it was still quite good. There were no problems at all.
Gui Mao’s worries were drowned in a mental menu, and he gradually forgot his initial questions.
In the blink of an eye, the Great Trial arrived. Gui Mao survived, and it was so easy it was almost absurd.
As required, he arrived at a secret realm filled with rising white mist. In that realm, he saw a roast chicken jumping around and wielding a large cleaver. Gui Mao pounced on it and took a few bites, but it had no flavor at all. In his anger, he chopped the roast chicken to pieces.
And then the trial was over.
Gui Mao was utterly dumbfounded.
He returned to his room in a daze. He was the only one there, so he enjoyed the peace. Gui Mao leisurely indulged in a long daydream and even ate a three-person portion of dinner by himself that night.
He idled away the time until the next morning, when one or two colleagues finally returned, looking exhausted.
*Was chopping a roast chicken really that grueling?* Gui Mao wanted to take the opportunity to mock them, but his colleagues began to wail about how cruel and sinister the enemies were, how terrifying the monsters and ghosts had been, and how hard-fought their victory was.
Gui Mao swallowed hard. It seemed the enemies were randomized, and he had simply been lucky.
After New Year's Eve, Night Walk granted a rare, brief period of rest. Although there were no celebrations, being able to live idly was the greatest blessing for them.
The Great Trial gradually concluded. About a dozen people from his term survived, which was considered a good result.
The room that once held thirty people now housed only three or five. Against the backdrop of the noisy fireworks and crackers outside bidding farewell to the old year, the atmosphere felt even more desolate.
Gui Mao looked toward the door. It was empty.
Had that person who always sat on the threshold in a daze failed to survive?
Aside from misfortune, there was likely no other reason.
The names on the roster were being crossed off one by one. Gui Mao leaned in and scanned the list, trying to see if any name sparked a memory of that person. Unfortunately, the codenames based on the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches felt devoid of reality; he truly couldn't remember which one was his.
"How many survived this time?" Gui Mao asked casually.
"Eleven, I think..." someone replied.
"Hey, he's not dead yet, so of course it's twelve," another person countered.
"What's the use of having breath now? If he can't get onto the training field, he'll be culled sooner or later," the first person said dismissively.
Gui Mao didn't understand. "What's the situation?"
The man replied, "One of them survived, but he's gone mad. He can't understand human speech and doesn't recognize anyone. He's only being kept alive by medicine these past two days; I doubt he'll last much longer."
"Is that so? No wonder there's been such a strong smell of medicine next door." Gui Mao disliked the bitterness of herbs and had found the scent bothersome for a while.
After chatting a bit more, the fireworks started again outside. Having nothing to do, Gui Mao flipped onto the roof to lie down and watch.
After a while, he heard people shouting and cursing next door, as if they were arguing. Listening closely, he realized the people in the adjacent room were trying to shirk the responsibility of caring for the "idiot."
Gui Mao was familiar with a few of the colleagues next door, so he decided to hop down and investigate. As soon as he pushed the door open, the thick scent of medicinal herbs hit him, making him want to retreat instantly.
Under the candlelight, a person lay slumped on the communal bunk. His hair was a mess, his eyes were vacant, and his expression was senseless. Drool and medicinal juice dripped from the corners of his mouth, staining his chest. He was covered in bandages, all of them wrapped haphazardly, suggesting his injuries were severe and that he moved around too much.
The people around him were cursing and complaining; no one wanted to look after him.
However, anyone who actually took the initiative to kill a colleague would inevitably be ostracized by the group later. No one wanted to be the one to stick their neck out.
Gui Mao found the person familiar. After watching for a long time, he suddenly realized—wasn't this the person who sat outside his door every day?
No wonder he was always on the threshold and never came in to rest even after the lights were out; he didn't even live in this room.
But then, why didn't he stay in his own room to rest? Why did he keep running to the room next door?
Amidst his confusion, Gui Mao walked to the bunk. Upon closer inspection, it was indeed him.
The person holding the medicine bowl was startled. "Hey, he seems to be looking at you?"
"Really?" Gui Mao tilted his body to the right, and the man's gaze followed him by an inch.
"Yo, he couldn't even see people two days ago. I thought he'd gone blind. Is he getting better?"
As the person with the medicine spoke, someone nearby snickered. "Maybe it's just the final glow before death, hahaha."
The others laughed. The dazed man stared at Gui Mao for a long time, then suddenly spoke: "Gui Mao."
"Oh! He spoke! He can still talk! Then hurry up and drink your medicine." As he spoke, he tried to shove the medicine bowl into the man's arms, but no matter how he pushed, the man didn't know to reach out and take it. The liquid spilled, soaking a large patch of his chest.
He seemed oblivious to everything else, simply repeating blankly, "Gui Mao."
Gui Mao was startled and uncertain. "You know me?"
The man didn't answer. He didn't seem to understand the question, only staring at him with a sense of helplessness.
Seeing the way the wind was blowing, the others shoved the medicine bowl into Gui Mao’s hands. "Since you two are friends, you should take good care of him!" With that, they all slipped away.
Left alone, Gui Mao had no choice but to sit down beside him.
Seeing him sit, the man repeated once more, "Gui Mao."
"Yes, yes, it's me. I'm here." Gui Mao stirred the medicine with a spoon and asked, "What's your name?"
There was no answer for a long time. Gui Mao waited patiently until the man finally spoke slowly, "Don't... remember."
*He doesn't recognize others, doesn't remember who he is, yet he knows me?* Gui Mao grew increasingly suspicious. He scooped a spoonful and held it to the man's lips. "Drink your medicine first. You're badly hurt. I'll re-wrap your bandages for you in a bit."
The man continued to stare at him woodenly. It seemed the sentence was too long for him to process.
Gui Mao thought for a moment and said, "Open your mouth."
This time, he obediently opened his mouth.
Gui Mao couldn't help but chuckle. It seemed he could understand simple commands. He slowly finished feeding him the entire bowl; the man seemed to gradually figure out how to swallow, making the second half of the bowl go much smoother.
Gui Mao went out to return the bowl to the servant. The people who had fled earlier were all surprised. "So fast? It took me nearly an hour to pour a bowl down his throat yesterday. It was a nightmare."
"What's his name?" Gui Mao asked.
Someone replied, "Bing Xu."
Gui Mao nodded and committed it to memory. He walked back thoughtfully, only to find that the man had fallen off the bunk and was crawling a short distance on all fours.
"My ancestor, what are you doing?" Gui Mao grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back onto the bunk, noticing that his previously wooden expression had been replaced by panic.
"Gui Mao..." Bing Xu didn't have the words; he could only repeat the name, but there was a clear note of urgency in his voice.
"I'm here, I'm here. Be good, okay? Come on, lie back down." Gui Mao settled him in and looked at the messy bandages, realizing how they had ended up that way.
"Injured like this, why do you keep trying to sneak out? Is there something outside?" Gui Mao carefully cut away the bandages, cleaned the wounds again, and applied medicinal powder.
Only then did Bing Xu reply blankly, "You."
"Me? What about me?" Gui Mao thought he was starting a sentence with his name and waited for the rest while applying the medicine. It took a long time for him to realize. "Are you saying... I was outside?"
Bing Xu nodded.
Gui Mao let out a light laugh and a sigh. "Truly an idiot."
***
**Glossary**
