“Master! Master!”
A young Ming Zhu, dressed in a small tunic, came running from a distance. Clutching a bouquet of tiny wildflowers, his face was bright with a beaming smile. He threw himself joyfully into Guining’s arms, chattering incessantly. “Look, look! Master, the new fifth junior brother asked me to give him some pointers on swordsmanship after morning lessons. He even invited me to cultivate with him. Can Zhu’er go?”
Guining reached out to pull the boy into his lap. His expression was cold and detached as he said softly, “Discussing swordsmanship is fine, but there is no need for cultivation.”
Ming Zhu’s face instantly fell. “Why?”
“Fifth Junior Brother is younger than me, yet he’s already reached the Foundation Establishment stage. But Zhu’er... ever since Zhu’er’s cultivation was destroyed, I haven’t been able to condense spiritual energy...” Ming Zhu twiddled his thumbs, his fingers moving in circles. A child’s joys and sorrows were always impossible to hide. “Zhu’er doesn’t want to be useless.”
Guining gently stroked his head and whispered, “It doesn’t matter if Zhu’er has no cultivation. Master will protect you for a lifetime. No matter what happens, I will never let anyone bully you.”
Ming Zhu protested, “But Zhu’er—”
“Enough, let us not speak of this.” Guining patted his back, coaxing him. “I heard your calligraphy has improved. The Hall of Longevity needs a new plaque; why don’t you go and write the characters for me?”
“Then, about cultivation...”
“Do not worry about cultivation anymore. Just be the Senior Disciple of Rizhao Mountain. Even without cultivation, no one will dare look down on you.” Guining’s eyes darkened. “If anyone bullies you, come and tell your Master.”
Ming Zhu only half-understood, but seeing the flicker of anger in Guining’s expression, he submissively agreed and dropped the subject.
Shang Yanfeng had entered the sect a year later than him. It took him only five short years to progress from Foundation Establishment to Core Formation, and then to the Nascent Soul stage. In contrast, Ming Zhu spent his days eating, playing, and wandering about with his birds. He did nothing productive, yet no one ever disciplined him. Over time, this inevitably drew the resentment of other disciples.
The sixth disciple of Rizhao was particularly envious. From the day he joined, he had looked down on his "Senior Disciple," whom he viewed as nothing more than a useless figurehead. The sixth disciple was highly talented; within three years of joining Rizhao, his cultivation was on par with Shang Yanfeng’s.
One day, Ming Zhu, bored and restless, had tinkered with a pile of strange artifacts in the main hall of Rizhao, inadvertently drawing a swarm of fierce beasts to attack the mountain. In the end, it was Guining who stepped in to resolve the crisis. Yet, the culprit—the Senior Disciple—was only given a gentle tap on the head by the Sect Leader as punishment. There were no other consequences.
The jealousy in the sixth disciple’s heart reached its peak. Taking advantage of Guining’s meditative seclusion, he lured Ming Zhu to a cliff at the border of Rizhao and struck him into the abyss with a single palm strike.
At that time, it was only thanks to Shang Yanfeng’s timely rescue that Ming Zhu avoided a gruesome death.
When Guining emerged from seclusion and heard of the incident, he completely disregarded the bonds of master and disciple. He shattered the sixth disciple’s spiritual veins and expelled him from Rizhao Mountain. As for the cliff where Ming Zhu had been thrown—leaving him severely injured and unconscious for a month—Guining leveled it to the ground overnight.
From then on, no one dared to breathe a word against the Senior Disciple with his meager cultivation.
Throughout those years, to prevent him from becoming completely spoiled, Guining employed both kindness and severity. Though he would often make Ming Zhu kneel as punishment, if Ming Zhu ever got hurt, it was always Guining who would sneak in at midnight to heal his wounds.
Ming Zhu grew to adulthood amidst such indulgence. The meager Golden Core cultivation he possessed was only achieved because Shang Yanfeng had been relentlessly persistent, dragging him into seclusion from time to time.
Had it been otherwise, given the Red Lotus Spiritual Vein Ming Zhu possessed, even without using the Red Lotus Sword, his cultivation would certainly have surpassed Shang Yanfeng’s by now—he might even have had the strength to stand against Zhou Mingzhong.
Ming Zhu sat dejectedly on the floor, tilting his head back to reveal his slender neck. He whispered, “Master, how exactly do you want me to live?”
Staring into those sorrowful eyes, Guining nearly lost his voice. “I only wanted to keep you safe...”
The two fell into a heavy silence. A moment later, a deafening roar erupted outside the window, shattering the stillness between them.
Guining turned his head toward the window, his pupils shrinking instantly. He rose from the daybed and slammed the windows wide open, revealing a bizarre, mottled sky.
The stars in the night sky seemed to be pulled by an invisible force, gathering toward the horizon. In the distance, streaks of purple lightning crashed down with thunderous roars. Even from this distance, one could feel the terrifying power of that lightning; it was easy to imagine just how fearsome that force truly was.
The distant purple lightning reflected in Guining’s eyes as he murmured, “A Tribulation...”
Ming Zhu had already scrambled up from the floor. Seeing the anomaly in the sky, he pushed his own troubles aside. He frowned and asked, “Master, what is that? Purple lightning?”
Guining turned back and pulled Ming Zhu into a brief embrace, pressing the back of his head against his chest. After a long pause, he whispered, “Wait for me here.”
Ming Zhu was bewildered by the hug. Before he could ask anything, Guining pushed him away and turned to leave the room.
Ming Zhu tried to chase after him but stumbled. Looking down, he saw that at some point, Guining had tied a loose Concentric Knot onto his lapel.
The Concentric Knots of Rizhao had a binding effect. Unless Guining personally untied it, Ming Zhu could tear the room apart and still never be able to leave.
“Master?” Ming Zhu walked to the door and pounded on it. “Master, what is going on? At least tell me! Master! Master?”
A flurry of hurried footsteps sounded outside the door, quickly fading into silence.
The more Ming Zhu thought about it, the more he felt something was wrong. He pounded the door harder, calling out the names of his junior brothers, but there was no response. Just as he attempted to use his spiritual power to break the binding, the Concentric Knot on his clothes suddenly unraveled into a translucent red cord, wrapping around him like chains and trapping him in place.
Nearly dizzy from the winding red cord, Ming Zhu had no choice but to return to the window. He watched the distant lightning, which seemed to be falling even more fiercely, his heart filled with confusion.
Just as he was considering whether to jump out the window, a light chuckle sounded in his ear. Ming Zhu turned around to find Ming Zhao sitting on the table, smiling at him with a rakish, uninhibited air. He was holding a bag of colorful rock candies.
Ming Zhu’s face darkened immediately. “What are you doing here?”
Ming Zhao popped a piece of candy into his mouth, the crunching sound loud in the quiet room. He said indistinctly, “Guining said you were looking for me, so I came.”
Ming Zhu took a deep breath. After a long silence, he asked, “You... are a ghost cultivator now?”
Ming Zhao nodded nonchalantly. “That’s right. Twenty years ago, not even my ashes were left. Isn’t it fitting for my soul to walk the path of ghosts?”
Ming Zhu recalled the scene at Sun-Shading Cliff all those years ago—the ghost-aura-shrouded Ming Zhao holding Su Yan, looking as if he had lost his mind. His lips trembled slightly as he clung to a final shred of hope. “Then... what about Mother? Is she still alive?”
At the mention of Su Yan, Ming Zhao fell into an uncharacteristic silence. He turned his head, pinching a piece of red rock candy. His pale, deathly fingers looked even more eerie against the color. After a long while, he spoke softly, “Do you know why Shen Hongchuan was marked for death by Zhou Mingzhong just for finding a clue, yet you know so much and no one dares to touch you?”
“Why?”
Ming Zhao chuckled softly, his voice airy and casual. “Because they owe your mother a life. Otherwise, twenty years ago, when countless Mahayana masters perished at Sun-Shading Cliff, why were they the only ones who survived?”
Ming Zhu’s pupils constricted.
“Was it because their skills were superior, or because they were better than the rest?” Ming Zhao smiled mockingly. “Neither. It was because they were lucky.”
“What exactly are you trying to say?”
Ming Zhao tossed the candy into his mouth and chewed, his tone distracted. “Tell me, how much do you actually know about what happened at Sun-Shading Cliff? Don’t give me any nonsense; I want to hear everything you know.”
Ming Zhu gritted his teeth. After a moment’s hesitation, he began, “I’ve thought about it since I was young...”
The battle at Sun-Shading Cliff twenty years ago was something the world’s great masters had done everything in their power to cover up, as if it were a shameful scandal. But only Ming Zhu, who had witnessed the entire event from the sidelines, knew that it was nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary, it was a tragedy so heroic it brought one to tears.
Sun-Shading Cliff was perpetually swept by howling winds. A relentless, freezing gale carrying the scent of blood rose from the depths of the abyss, mingled with the distant roars of wild beasts.
A massive hexagram array glowed with a bloody light at the edge of the cliff. Ming Zhu was held in Ming Zhao’s arms, his entire body trembling slightly from his innate revulsion toward the scent of blood.
He buried his face in the crook of Ming Zhao’s neck, tears falling uncontrollably. He asked in a trembling voice, “Father, are they... are they dead?”
Six people sat cross-legged at the edge of the array with their eyes closed. Blood slowly spread from beneath them toward the center of the formation, as if being absorbed, releasing clouds of bloody mist that drifted through the air.
Ming Zhao’s usually flippant face was solemn and cold. He said grimly, “Soon.”
Su Yan, dressed in white, stood at the very edge of the cliff like a compassionate deity. A single step forward would plunge her into the endless hell below. Her white hair whipped about in the gale. She turned her head slightly and said softly, “A-Zhao, I can’t hold on much longer.”
Ming Zhao gritted his teeth. “I’ll go find a few more Mahayana cultivators...”
“It’s too late.” A look of sorrow crossed Su Yan’s peerlessly beautiful face. She crossed her fingers over her chest and faced the vast abyss, chanting softly, “Falling leaves return to dust, the galaxy replaces the sun, white clouds enter the azure...”
Before she could finish, a deafening roar of a beast erupted from the depths of the abyss, scream after scream.
Ming Zhao could not understand the meaning behind those sorrowful, angry bellows, but Ming Zhu and Su Yan understood perfectly.
“No return!”
“No replacement!”
“No entry!”
The responses seemed to come from the depths of hell, vibrating against their eardrums.
Ming Zhu covered his ears, his tears falling like rain.
“I want you all dead!”
Su Yan was startled by the final roar, stumbling back two steps from the cliff’s edge, her eyes filled with grief.
She turned back once more, her eyes shimmering with tears. “A-Zhao.”
Ming Zhao set Ming Zhu down and strode toward Su Yan, pulling the fragile woman into his arms. He pressed a gentle kiss to her brow and whispered, “I will die with you.”
Su Yan’s tears fell, but she broke into a soft smile. She asked, “Then what about Zhu’er and Fuhua?”
Ming Zhao replied, “I will leave the Red Lotus to them.”
One by one, the people in the array collapsed. Ming Zhao stepped forward and grabbed the last two survivors. Before their spiritual energy could be entirely drained by the formation, he struck them out of the array with a powerful palm. He and Su Yan took their places.
Guining, at his last gasp, slowly raised his head and struggled to look forward.
“A-Yan...”
Su Yan smiled at him through the bloody light, her voice gentle. “I entrust Zhu’er and Fuhua to you.”
***
