Time rewinds to nearly a hundred years ago.
On the day the city fell, Chai Shuxin had grabbed Mu Gesheng in a moment of crisis. However, having never served in the military, he was far less familiar with the chaos of a battlefield than his companion. Mu Gesheng had gripped him back, pulling him into a protective embrace.
In an instant, rubble rained down from above, crushing them. Amidst a surge of agonizing pain, Chai Shuxin lost consciousness.
He was eventually woken by the lashing rain.
The air was thick with the scent of blood. He lay face-down in the mud, every bone in his body feeling as though it had been wrenched out of place. He performed a quick self-assessment of his pulse; it was primarily impact trauma from the fall. He could save himself.
But where was Mu Gesheng?
Chai Shuxin tried to stand, only to find himself pinned beneath a pile of debris that felt as heavy as a mountain. He had to find a way out. As he struggled with all his might, stones tumbled away, and a hand suddenly brushed past his ear.
In that heartbeat, the sound of the rain seemed to vanish.
Only then did Chai Shuxin realize that most of the blood scent surrounding him did not belong to him.
There was someone lying on his back.
Mu Gesheng had pulled him close as they fell, shielding him from the brunt of the collapsing stone.
Chai Shuxin didn't know how he managed to crawl out from under the rubble. By the time he regained his senses, he had already excavated an entire section of the ruins.
Blood—there was blood everywhere. The sand and stone were covered in clotted gore, being washed away by the rain. In the center of the crimson stains lay a man, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles, his body so mangled it had lost its shape.
In ordinary times, no one could have imagined this broken husk was the same spirited youth who once rode through the world’s fleeting wonders. But that face told him with absolute certainty—this person was Mu Gesheng.
Chai Shuxin’s hands were shaking.
He gritted his teeth so hard they nearly shattered, yet he still couldn't stop the trembling enough to hold Mu Gesheng’s wrist. Blood blurred his vision. Finally, he tore open the man’s blood-soaked military uniform and pressed his ear against the riddled, mangled flesh.
He heard no heartbeat.
The storm raged, but in his ears, there was only a deathly silence.
***
By the time Wu Nie arrived, only a pool of blood remained at the site. She dipped a finger into the bloody rainwater and tasted it. "Dammit, this is the Tiansuan brat’s blood."
The taste was wrong. She suppressed the rising dread in her heart; the blood was mixed with Chai Shuxin’s scent, and there was still a trace of living breath within it. At least one of them was still alive—but where would they go?
Behind Wu Nie followed two ghosts, forcibly snatched from their path to reincarnation. They carried a stretcher holding Wu Zixu and Song Wentong, both of whom were unconscious and severely injured. They needed immediate medical attention, and the only person left who could save them was Chai Shuxin.
But where had they gone? Wu Nie fought back her anxiety. Surely the Lingshu-zi hadn't died?
However, another possibility was undoubtedly more terrifying. She had lived a long time; nothing could escape eyes that had observed the world for nine hundred years. If the one who died was Mu Gesheng, the consequences would be unthinkable.
She couldn't delay any longer. Drenched by the rain, Wu Nie rapidly considered their possible destinations. The Mu Estate? The Chai Estate? The Wu Residence? Guanshan Yue? Yeshui Zhuhua?
None of them were right. The enemy had entered the city; charging in blindly was a death sentence. Moreover, the city had been almost entirely evacuated; there would be no supplies to scavenge, not even medicinal herbs.
So where could they go?
They couldn't enter the city—could it be the military camp on the outskirts?
No, that was wrong too. The camp was undoubtedly a primary target of the siege. Going back would be walking into a trap.
That left only one possibility.
"Dammit," Wu Nie cursed. "With rain this heavy and a road that long, you better not die on the way."
Wiping the water from her face, she kicked off the ground and sprinted away, the two lingering spirits following in her wake.
She should have realized sooner. There was only one place Chai Shuxin and Mu Gesheng would go—
Baishui Temple.
The Ginkgo Library.
***
Just as Wu Nie expected, the mountain path was stained with blood. The further she went, the more uneasy she became—the amount of blood was far more than one person could lose. A fierce battle had clearly taken place nearby.
When she finally reached the gates of Baishui Temple and kicked them open, her pupils constricted violently.
Corpses littered the ground amidst the ruins.
Red was everywhere, overwhelming the senses. The bodies of monks lay scattered outside the meditation halls, by the well, and across the stone paths. Some had been killed with a single blow; others had been dismembered. One monk hung from the eaves, pierced by several blades, his eyes wide in a deathly stare.
The ancient bell, a heritage of centuries, lay shattered on the ground. Its jagged remains had tumbled down the steps in the rain, and several dark objects rolled out—human heads, stripped of their skin.
The torrential rain poured down, and the blood gathered into rivulets, snaking and overflowing.
Avici Hell itself was nothing more than this.
Even the ghosts carrying the stretcher began to emit wisps of pale smoke from sheer terror. They were newly deceased spirits who had died confused deaths in the fires of war; they had never witnessed such a tragedy.
Wu Nie stood outside the gate. As the "Great Ancestor Taisui" of Fengdu, she was long accustomed to life and death, yet she stared at the scene in the temple for a long time without moving.
*I’ve really stayed in Fengdu for too long,* she thought vaguely.
Surrounded by souls day in and day out, she had almost forgotten what a corpse looked like.
When a person dies, the body grows cold.
Colder than the rain.
At least Fengdu had the River of Forgetfulness, the Green Lotus Lamps, and the spectacles of the Ghost Market. When did the mortal realm start looking more like the subterranean underworld than Fengdu itself?
Wu Nie felt an unspeakable exhaustion. A sense of desolation rose from her heart.
She was truly getting old.
Wu Nie entered the Ginkgo Library and found Chai Shuxin in the incense hall. The room was covered in blood, though it wasn't Mu Gesheng’s. A mangled skeleton sat upon a prayer mat, hands pressed together.
It was the lotus position, the posture of one passing into Nirvana.
In front of the body, eight characters were written in blood:
"A worthy death, a return to the roots."
Wu Nie recognized the handwriting; it belonged to the Abbot of Baishui Temple.
She also recognized the method of death: being flayed alive.
After an unknown amount of time, Chai Shuxin spoke, his voice hoarse. "When a person of great cultivation sits peacefully and meets their end, it is called *Zuohua*—attaining Samadhi."
"Refusing to abandon his home, meeting death with composure," Wu Nie said after a moment of silence. "His merit is complete; he may enter the Heavenly Path of reincarnation."
"...Good." Chai Shuxin nodded slowly. "Then please, come and see. Which path of reincarnation has *he* entered?"
He had been sitting with his back to the door, and with the room so chaotic with blood, Wu Nie hadn't realized he was cradling someone in his arms—it was Mu Gesheng.
However, only the face was still recognizable. To say Chai Shuxin was holding a corpse was an understatement; he was holding a mass of trembling, bloody flesh.
Chai Shuxin didn't even ask if the man could be saved. He asked directly which reincarnation Mu Gesheng had entered.
Wu Nie bit her lip and hardened her heart. "You are the Lingshu-zi; you should understand the rules of the Sages. When the Tiansuan-zi dies, his soul disperses. He does not enter reincarnation."
"I know." Chai Shuxin’s voice sounded as if it were being coughed up from his very lifeblood. "...But to me, he is more than just the Tiansuan-zi."
The sound was quickly swallowed by the storm.
Wu Nie’s heart hammered against her ribs. She had two critically injured people behind her waiting for rescue; she had to stabilize him first. "How about this? I’ll take you to Fengdu right now. Perhaps the Tiansuan—no, the Mu boy’s soul hasn't fully dissipated yet. You might still make it in time to see him one last time..."
But before she could finish, Chai Shuxin interrupted her. "Ancestor."
"I’m here. I’m listening."
"When he returned from Fengdu back then, he told us that during the seven days he was unconscious, he had a dream. In the dream, paper money fell like snow, and he heard the sound of ritual songs."
Wu Nie froze.
"The ritual songs of the Seven Sages originate from antiquity. The two oldest among them are *Siming* and *Lihun*. *Lihun* was passed down to the School of Yin-Yang to soothe the departed; *Siming* was passed down to the School of Medicine to sustain the living soul. One for life, one for death—thus did the Seven Sages take command over all matters of Yin and Yang."
Wu Nie knew this, of course, and far more besides. *Lihun*, the "Ritual for Souls," was the song sung by successive Masters of Impermanence after they became the Night Watchmen to command the ghostly soldiers. It was one of the School of Yin-Yang’s greatest trump cards.
Even the melodies of the General’s Nuo Dance were partially derived from it.
The School of Yin-Yang governed death; the School of Medicine governed life. The reason the School of Medicine possessed the power to raise the dead and regrow flesh was not only due to peerless medical skill—*Siming*, the "Fate-Commanding" song, could even forcibly recall a lost soul and bring it back to life.
*O Soul, return!*
Wu Nie said in disbelief, "Back then, when the Mu boy encountered the ghost soldiers in the Yin-Yang Ladder, he was at death's door. You were the one who arrived and brought him back..."
"He was actually beyond saving then," Chai Shuxin said hoarsely. "I used *Siming*."
"What he heard in his dream was actually my voice."
"You’re mad!" Wu Nie said, horrified. "The School of Medicine hasn't used *Siming* for a hundred generations! Even the ritual songs of the Yin-Yang School are only dared by the Night Watchmen! This is defying the heavens!"
"Defying the heavens?" Chai Shuxin shook his head, his hair disheveled. "Everything we have done has long since cast destiny aside."
"You’re mad," Wu Nie repeated, shaking her head in disbelief. "*Siming* can only be used once at most. Since you used it to heal the Mu boy before, you cannot use it a second time."
"There is something you do not know," Chai Shuxin said. "Though *Siming* is a secret art, its principle is quite simple. It is nothing more than a life for a life."
"Last time, I was greedy. I only gave him half of my lifespan."
"As it turns out, it was fortunate I kept the other half."
It was nothing more than a life for a life.
Chai Shuxin laid down Mu Gesheng’s body and knelt before Wu Nie. "This junior has one request."
Wu Nie no longer knew what to say. If she had thought she understood Chai Shuxin before, their conversation had completely overturned her impressions. This seemingly steady junior possessed a hidden, chilling madness. Perhaps Mu Gesheng was the seed planted long ago; upon his death, the suppression and endurance buried in Chai Shuxin's marrow had finally exploded to the surface.
Perhaps the two people in the room were no different—one with a body riddled with holes, the other with a heart drenched in blood.
At this point, she abandoned any thought of persuasion. "You take care of those two outside for me, and whatever you ask, I will grant it."
She could guess what Chai Shuxin wanted. "Though my cultivation is nearly spent and I don't know how much longer I have to live, for as long as I am alive, I will protect him."
Chai Shuxin knelt on the ground and shook his head. "That is not what I ask of you."
"*Siming* is a secret art. Besides the trade of life for life, the process of summoning consumes the user's cultivation. I am not a cultivator; I only possess the slight innate cultivation and merit of being one of the Sages. That was already exhausted last time."
Chai Shuxin bowed his head to the floor. "This junior is bold enough to ask for a portion of your cultivation to assist me."
Wu Nie was stunned.
Both of them knew exactly how much cultivation she had left.
And they both understood what it meant to ask for it now.
Outside, the rain fell in torrents. One stood, one knelt, facing each other in silence.
After an unknown time, Wu Nie sighed and walked out of the incense hall to wash the blood from her hands in the rain.
She looked up at the downpour for a moment and said quietly, "First, save those two injured ones outside for me."
"As for your request."
"I grant it."
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
---|---|---
司命 | Siming (Fate-Commanding) | A secret ritual song of the School of Medicine used to recall souls and restore life; literally "Master of Fate."
礼魂 | Lihun (Ritual for Souls) | A ritual song of the School of Yin-Yang used to soothe and command spirits.
白水寺 | Baishui Temple | "White Water Temple," the location of the Ginkgo Library.
坐化 | Zuohua (Attaining Samadhi) | The act of a high-ranking monk or cultivator passing away peacefully while in a meditative posture.
天道 | Heavenly Path | One of the six realms of reincarnation in Buddhist cosmology.
