EVERYONE UNSHEATHED their weapons. Xue Zhengyong pulled Xue Meng behind him, face grim. "Meng-er, don't move. Stay behind me!"
When they first saw the Weapon Ensoulment array, no one had tried to break it; if they did, Xu Shuanglin's spiritual energy would dissipate, killing him and leaving their questions unanswered. No one had expected Xu Shuanglin to be hiding another array behind Weapon Ensoulment.
What could it be? A rift in space he could use to escape? Or a vicious curse he could use as a last recourse to fight them off?
Chu Wanning raised a hand, and a barrier sprang up between their group and the mysterious array. Nangong Si had died right before his eyes; he couldn't stand to see more young cultivators lose their lives. "Be careful; don't act rashly."
The sky darkened. Clouds swirled, covering the face of the moon, and the wind kicked up sand into a blinding haze. Dressed only in his thin white robe, Xu Shuanglin stood in the wild gale and bared his teeth in a grin. "Thanks for listening to my rambling so long. Seriously, thank you. Everyone, let the real show begin."
As he spoke, his rotting claw of a hand pointed into the air. The swirling black array rushed into his palm like a soaring dragon, revealing the gleaming formation of the curse beneath.
"What kind of formation is this?" Xue Meng cried.
"Is it Rebirth?" Xue Zhengyong asked Abbot Xuanjing of Wubei Temple.
The man shook his head. "Huaizui mastered Rebirth, but he never used it in front of others. This old monk doesn't know what it looks like."
The assembled cultivators stared at the array with the tension of a drawn bow, taking in Xu Shuanglin's every movement with rapt attention and perfect silence. Only the eerie whistling of that unnatural tempest wailed in their ears. They were like a pot of oil hot enough to erupt, merely waiting for that first drop of water.
And like a stone dropped, the explosion came. "The Corpse Demon Array!" came a cry.
It was Hanlin the Sage, Hua Binan, who was the first to recognize the array. "The Corpse Demon Array," he cried. "Xu Shuanglin is summoning Luo Fenghua's revenant to take us down with him! Stop him! That formation must not take shape!"
Panic took hold the instant the array was named. This was a devilish spell not far from the three forbidden techniques. It had originated from dark medicinal practices; as the foremost grandmaster of medicine in the world, Hanlin the Sage could never mistake it.
Jiang Xi had likewise heard tales of this array since he was a child. He reacted much more swiftly than others, leaping toward the array with Xuehuang in hand. With a thunderous boom of spiritual energy, the delicate sword struck toward the array's center.
With a clash of metal and falling sparks, Xu Shuanglin rushed in front of the array and parried Jiang Xi's blade. Cold light gleamed in his eyes. "This is the last wish of my life. Don't even dream of stopping me."
"The last wish of your life," Jiang Xi said, acid, "is to die with us here?"
"Bullshit!" Xu Shuanglin bit out. His sword's hilt shook in his hand, his tendons protruding and his face flushed red.
"You're falling apart. What's summoning a corpse demon going to do? Drag a few more people with you to the grave?"
"Corpse demon? Grave?! Open your goddamn eyes, how is this a—"
An arrow imbued with spiritual energy streaked toward the array, just as Jiang Xi pinned Xu Shuanglin in place.
"No!" Xu Shuanglin's infinite composure finally shattered on a scream. "Stop!"
His lapse of concentration gave Jiang Xi the opening he needed. Blood misted the air. Xu Shuanglin crumpled to his knees in pain, but his eyes were crazed with despair—he wasn't looking at his own mutilated flesh and exposed ribcage, but rather at the array.
Xu Shuanglin's cheeks were flecked with filthy blood; his eyes bulged, and his lips trembled. Never before had he shown such fear on his face, whether as Nangong Xu of the past or Xu Shuanglin of the present. His shaking hands flew through the gesture for sending out spiritual energy, putting everything he had into keeping that arrow from piercing the array.
The arrow shattered midair.
Xu Shuanglin panted, his wounded arm dripping blood. The corners of his mouth bubbled with crimson foam, but when he saw that arrow fall, his white lips formed a quivering smile.
"But…" Mo Ran heard Shi Mei murmur at his side, "this isn't the Corpse Demon Array."
Overhearing, Huang Xiaoyue snorted, hand on his beard. "Youngling, are you not embarrassed? Could Hanlin the Sage be wrong?"
But Shi Mei shook his head, resolute. "The Corpse Demon Array doesn't look like this."
"You can't be serious. You think you know better than the sage?"
Mo Ran cut in. "Shi Mei, don't waste your breath on this geezer. You're sure this isn't the Corpse Demon Array?"
"It looks like it, but it's not the same thing. The Corpse Demon Array has a fish-scale gleam. This one is glowing, but its light isn't breaking in separate scales. It's continuous."
They heard Jiang Xi's enraged shout. "Nangong Xu, what the hell are you doing?!"
Xu Shuanglin ignored him. He dragged his broken body up before the brilliant glow, blood dribbling across the ground as he went. The smile on his face widened. In the light of the array, he looked almost boyish, his grin one of cheerful youth.
"Soon…" he whispered.
He reached out and tapped the array's surface. The touch rippled outward. He looked as if he was waiting to see the face of a long-lost friend, or kin he'd been apart from for years. Neither his wounds nor his rotting flesh hindered his joy. His eyes shone as he murmured, "Soon…so soon, just the last little bit…"
The roar of the wind finally quieted. The clouds parted, revealing the moon hanging round in the sky. Xu Shuanglin's eyes were wide with hope; he was shaking again, but this time not from fear. This was excitement, an unstoppable anticipation.
"Shifu…"
They saw golden light in the array, then the shape of a gleaming spiritual core. The array poured light into it, those thousands of wisps gradually taking human form.
"Luo Fenghua?!"
"It's Luo Fenghua!"
The long-dead Luo Fenghua materialized upon Rufeng Sect's Soul-Summoning Platform. A blooming tangerine tree stretched its branches within the gold array, white petals drifting down around him. He sat beneath it in the celadon robes of Rufeng Sect, playing the harp with his eyes closed. He was still a mirage, a hazy illusion. Only that ghost form's spiritual core was real, clawed back from the underworld, gleaming within that hollow specter.
"A flicker of petals on the water of the pond, the thrum of strings on the opposite shore."
A man's quiet voice emerged from the spiritual core, laden with incomparable tenderness. Beneath the tree, Luo Fenghua was singing a local song from Sichuan.
"Best are those years you come of age, seeing the world's flowers astride a fast horse…" A raspy voice joined Luo Fenghua's faint notes—Xu Shuanglin, completing the duet. His voice was awful to listen to, like a broken gong or crushed metal, yet still it answered, stubborn and resolute.
Xue Zhengyong stared. "Th-this is the Corpse Demon Array? What's going on?"
He wasn't the only one confused; even Jiang Xi had furrowed his brow, pursing his lips in silence. His eyes were full of questions.
As that golden light shone, Luo Fenghua's body slowly gained definition. His eyes, nose, and mouth took shape. Above the soothing singing, Hua Binan shouted, "Hurry! The corpse demon is forming!"
Shi Mei had kept a low profile since they'd set out from Sisheng Peak. He hadn't spoken much, aware how low his status was. But now, he turned to Hua Binan and said, voice carrying, "Senior Sage, you're mistaken! This isn't the Corpse Demon Array! It's…"
Rebirth.
Mo Ran understood at once. Shi Mei was right: this wasn't the Corpse Demon Array. It was the formation for Rebirth!
But in such a crowd, who would people believe? An insignificant little cultivator, or the famous medicine sage? As soon as Hua Binan said the corpse demon was taking shape, everyone cared only for their own safety—no matter what Shi Mei said.
A dark shadow shot past; before Xu Shuanglin could react, a swift cultivator had driven a dagger full of spiritual energy into the array.
"No—!"
One strike shattered Luo Fenghua's spiritual core. The golden light of the barrier flickered and died, falling to pieces.
"No! No! Shizun, Shizun!"
Xu Shuanglin staggered to his feet, knocking the assailant several feet away. It was a Guyueye cultivator who'd obeyed Hua Binan in that critical moment. He spat a great mouthful of blood; Xu Shuanglin hadn't held anything back. Weakened as Xu Shuanglin was, that cultivator was still knocked to the ground, where he curled up into a whimpering heap and died.
But it was too late. The cultivator's death changed nothing. Luo Fenghua's ghost-form spiritual core that Xu Shuanglin had painstakingly dragged out of the eighteen hells was punctured. He crawled to Luo Fenghua's spectral feet and tugged at his robes, but the mirage had already fallen apart. Luo Fenghua's clothes were like falling sand or spilling water in his hand—eluding his grasp no matter how he tried.
"Shizun… Shizun," he began, before his voice grew louder, eyes flickering madly. "Luo Fenghua! Luo Fenghua!"
It was no use. Regardless how he yelled, regardless what name he used, Luo Fenghua's hazy form was disappearing. It dissolved into tiny motes of light that drifted away on the breeze, leaving nothing behind.
Xu Shuanglin knelt on the ground, dazed. His back was ramrod straight, his body stiff as a board. He didn't move, nor did he cry. He didn't even shout anymore.
Atop the Soul-Summoning Platform, in the biting wind, a cracked spiritual core lost its light and fell to the ground, dulling to nothing. The spiritual energy meant for Luo Fenghua's reborn body dispersed like so much willow fluff, drifting away in swirling sparks.
Xu Shuanglin knelt in that mirage turned to ash. After an endless silence, he spoke in soft, mocking tones. "Best are those years you come of age, seeing the world's flowers astride a fast horse?"
A beautiful verse. He'd often heard Luo Fenghua sing it when he was younger. All those flecks of spiritual energy had become the sands of bygone time; in those flying motes of golden willow fluff, he saw the scene of his first meeting with his shifu.
He and his brother were still young the day their father brought them to Rufeng's academy. It was mid-autumn, and an old tangerine tree stood in the courtyard, branches heavy with fruit. Two men conversed beneath it. The first had unassuming features and a bland expression: the face of someone quickly forgotten in a crowd. The second's face was handsomely sharp and full of vigor.
Father herded them forward. "Go greet your shifu."
His brother had rushed to kneel. "Disciple Nangong Liu greets Shizun," he said to the formidable man.
But the man waved his hands. "I just came to ask Luo-xiansheng a question; I'm not your shifu. Little gongzi, you're mistaken."
Father had smiled, too. He nudged them toward that unassuming man and said, "This is your shizun, Master Luo Fenghua."
Looking up, he'd been met by Luo Fenghua's bashful smile. Luo Fenghua was young at that time, and looked younger when nervous. His two little disciples stood reflected in his round and shining eyes as his cheeks went pink. The old sect leader tugged at Xu Shuanglin's hand. "Xianzhang, these two are different in temperament, so they may not be suited for the same path. Please care for them and teach each according to his aptitude."
Luo Fenghua fiddled with a tangerine in his hand. He seemed to badly want to adopt the stern poise of a teacher, but his fidgeting fingers betrayed his inexperience and embarrassment.
Nangong Liu was a suck-up even then. He went up and cooed, "Luo-shifu, Luo-shifu."
Luo Fenghua flushed crimson all the way to his ears. "I… Y-you don't need to be so polite," he said, flapping a hand. "I'm also teaching for the first time, I don't know anything… Little gongzi, please feel free to give me pointers going forward, I…"
He stammered onward, unsure how to continue. Xu Shuanglin vividly remembered how Luo Fenghua—who seemed better addressed by xiao-gege than shifu—looked, standing beneath that tangerine tree in the bright sun of Linyi. His back was to the light, illuminating the slender green veins beneath the delicate rim of his ear, that fragile skin translucent amber in the light.
This was how Xu Shuanglin spoke to Luo Fenghua for the first time: "Luo-xianzhang, are you even twenty?"
The boy had meant to mock him; even his father could tell. But Luo Fenghua couldn't. He smiled and earnestly responded: "Nope, I'm seventeen."
Xu Shuanglin opened his mouth as if to retort, but nothing came out. He threw up his hands and walked away.
His father excused himself and pulled him into a corner, voice stern. "Xu-er, you can't measure talent just by age."
"He's not much older than we are."
"When we asked Wang-xianzhang to teach you two, you said he was too old!"
"Is he not?" Xu Shuanglin rolled his eyes. "He's ninety-seven. He's old enough to cast off his mortal form and ascend."
"Seventeen's no good and ninety-seven isn't either—young man, what exactly do you want?"
"Dad," he lazily said, "Could you at least start with someone who isn't eighty years younger than your first pick?"
Incensed and embarrassed by his son's backtalk, the old sect leader ground his teeth. "Even if he isn't the strongest, he's well-traveled and well-read. His martial techniques are all very good too! Just behave yourself and learn from him! If you're still unhappy a year from now, we'll look for someone else."
After that long period of cajoling, the two finally emerged from their corner and returned to the courtyard. Xu Shuanglin was surprised to see his brother easily chatting away with Luo Fenghua as if he and Luo-shifu had been friends for decades. Yet this wasn't unbelievable. Nangong Liu had always had a knack for making friends with anyone he wanted to.
Out of the two of them, it was Luo Fenghua who remained anxious and reserved. When he looked up and saw that Xu Shuanglin had returned, the uncertainty in his manner became more pronounced. He watched as Xu Shuanglin's father tugged the disgruntled boy across the floor to stand before him. After a moment of hesitation, he tried the clumsiest, most childish method to befriend this willful little disciple: he offered Xu Shuanglin the tangerine he still held.
Xu Shuanglin stared.
"It's very sweet. Try some." His seventeen-year-old shifu looked helpless and uneasy, even rather pitiable. Only then did Xu Shuanglin notice the evenly stitched patch at the hem of his robes. Was he that poor? No wonder he was begging for a position as the teacher of the two young scions of Rufeng Sect.
"I don't like tangerines," Xu Shuanglin said. "Since it seems Luo-shifu can't tell he's unwelcome, this is the first thing I'd like you to remember."
"Xu-er!"
As the sect leader turned to berate his son, Luo Fenghua waved his hands and swiftly retrieved the tangerine. "Don't worry, don't worry. Sect Leader, you needn't bother."
The father sighed. "This son of mine is too rude; he doesn't show any respect for his teacher. My apologies, Xianzhang."
"It's nothing." Luo Fenghua smiled. He turned back to Xu Shuanglin, eyes warm and friendly, yet still careful. "Honestly, it doesn't matter if they take me as their teacher or not. I have a little experience, and you can just learn from me. You don't have to acknowledge me as your shifu."
The old sect leader replied hastily: "How could we let that…"
"Titles are empty words." Luo Fenghua scratched his head, red-faced and ill at ease. "Frankly, I also think I'm a bit too young…" He turned to Xu Shuanglin. "If the little gongzi has objections, you can just call me by my name."
Xu Shuanglin watched him quietly, then burst out laughing. Just as Xu Shuanglin's behavior was about to leave this Goody Two-shoes Luo Fenghua so embarrassed he was at his wits' end, the boy straightened his clothes and performed a very proper bow.
The tangerine tree was fragrant, the sunlight dappled through its leaves.
Xu Shuanglin looked up and laughed. His features were haughty with a devilish curve to his mouth, but he was still young, after all. When he smiled, it was with a childish sweetness like ripe peaches. This man was right, titles were empty. What did it matter what he called him? Xu Shuanglin drawled: "Shizun."
A wind rose, and the leaves rustled, scattering across the ground.
Forget it, Xu Shuanglin thought. He was merely a stand-in shifu. In a year or so, there'd be another.
Back then, Xu Shuanglin believed things would always be as carefree as they were now, and that this was a day like any other—no different from all the other days of his life, before and after.