THE MOOD on the sentencing platform was somber. The dagger's tip coaxed the fragments of Mo Ran's core out, one after another. He steeled himself against the pain, enduring with everything he had. Paying for his sins was one thing, but showing weakness to these people was another. He was like an immovable boulder, refusing to cry out before Mu Yanli.
But the pain was all-consuming; he drifted upon the ocean of his agony.
"Mo Ran!"
The voice was like a bolt from the blue, a spring thunderclap exploding in his head. Impossible. How? How could he be here…? Surely the pain was making him hallucinate, muddling his mind.
"Mo Ran!"
Distantly, he heard a commotion rise around him. People were gasping and shouting, and a fierce wind whipped down from the sky. Mu Yanli's hand stilled. Shaking, Mo Ran summoned all his strength to raise his head.
He saw his god on the back of a dragon, soaring down from the heavens. He saw his god in fluttering white robes, an immortal fallen to earth. As that face framed by the dragon's craggy horns drew closer, Mo Ran's heart spasmed, a pain worse than any stab of the knife.
His god was crying. Chu Wanning…was crying.
"Shi…zun…"
Blood ran from the wound on Mo Ran's chest as he thrashed, chains clanking.
Chu Wanning leapt down from the great dragon's back. As he landed outside the barrier around the sentencing platform, the dragon vanished in a beam of golden light, returning to its talisman.
"Yuheng!"
"Shizun!"
"Yuheng Elder!"
The entirety of Sisheng Peak was on their feet in the stands. Audience members from other sects started in surprise, and even some of the commoners gasped in astonishment. "The legendary Beidou Immortal?"
"It's Mo Ran's shifu!"
"But I thought they fell out?"
The rims of Chu Wanning's eyes were already scarlet. Yet when he saw the mess of blood and core fragments in that silver tray, his despair compounded. His throat burned; he wanted to speak, but his words caught on a sob as they burst from his lips. "You can't…treat him like this…"
An uproar broke out on all sides.
"What did he say?!"
"Has he lost his mind? Mo Ran is a savage—a murderer!"
Every shout was like a knife to Chu Wanning's heart, every rebuke an awl punching into his chest.
It hurt so much.
Chu Wanning looked at the man trapped behind Tianyin Pavilion's barrier, that man whose wet black eyes gazed back at him in silence, whose heart had been flayed open, whose core had been ravaged.
That man who still didn't know he'd been wronged even as the world condemned him.
What a dummy.
Chu Wanning's whole body was racked with shivers. He pressed a hand to the transparent barrier. "You're making a mistake…" he croaked. "You've got it all wrong…"
Stop stabbing him with that dagger—turn it on me instead. Stab me instead…
Everyone said Taxian-jun was heartless, that Mo Weiyu was morally deficient. In the past life, he'd been reviled by the masses, condemned by all. In this life, he'd passed each day in trepidation, hounded by his guilt.
But did anyone know the truth?
Mu Yanli seemed to be getting impatient. When her initial shock had passed, she raised the dagger once more. Blood dripped from its point.
"Don't look," Mo Ran muttered. With a sickening wet noise, the blade plunged again into his chest. Scarlet streamed out.
Chu Wanning's pupils contracted to pinpricks. The world seemed to stand still; then a scream tore from his throat: "No—!"
Golden light flashed and a gale swirled up as Tianwen materialized and lashed at the barrier. Dozens of Tianyin Pavilion's top disciples were maintaining the spell, but this single strike was more than they could withstand. They fell to their knees, coughing up blood, and the barrier ruptured in an instant.
Chu Wanning stood within a dazzling halo of light, holy weapon held aloft, sparks flying. He flew toward the center of the sentencing platform.
"Someone's trying to steal the prisoner!"
"Chu Wanning wants to set him free!"
Mu Yanli shoved the silver tray with the shards of Mo Ran's spiritual core into her qiankun pouch. Whirling, she barked, "Stop him!"
"Yes, Pavilion Master!"
Tianyin Pavilion stepped forward in a wave of gold, clashing with Chu Wanning's spiritual energy. The cultivators in the stands were stupefied: No one had ever seen Chu Wanning this frantic and desperate, completely without reason.
Mu Yanli cursed under her breath as she saw Chu Wanning approach. Eyes glinting like ice, she cut out a final shard of Mo Ran's core and dropped it into her qiankun pouch. Then she turned to meet Chu Wanning head-on, robes whipping in the wind. "Chu-zongshi, do you truly intend to save him? Think carefully—if you commit to this, the burden of infamy will fall upon you both!"
The light of the sword glares lit Mu Yanli's almond eyes as she stared down Chu Wanning. Tianwen wrapped around Mu Yanli's blade and snapped it with a crackle of sparks. Every word was ground between Chu Wanning's teeth as he replied, "Then I will gladly bear that burden with him!"
The annals of history are well-recorded, filled with the names of heroes. But all I want is for us to be together. Whether we're spoken of in the chronicles of a tyrant's reign or rot on a list of despicable outlaws, I'll accept it. When people mention us in the future, I don't want them to uplift me as a god while condemning you as a devil. When the history books tell of these times, I don't want them to write that you and I turned on each other, that master and disciple became enemies.
Mo Ran, Mo Weiyu, Taxian-jun. If I cannot clear your name of the wrongs you have suffered, then I'll endure eternal disgrace by your side.
Hell is too cold. Mo Ran, I'm coming to the grave with you.
In the swirling mist, the brilliant light of the battle dazzled the eyes of the combatants. Those on the stands and below them were even more disoriented. In the chaos, all they could make out were two metallic clangs as Tianwen broke the chains binding Mo Ran.
Crumpling to his knees, Mo Ran collapsed into Chu Wanning's warm embrace. His blood instantly dyed Chu Wanning's white robes scarlet. Through it all, he hadn't shed a single tear; he hadn't let out a single sob when they pierced his heart. Now his composure crumbled at last. He raised shaking hands, only to lower them again. He wanted so badly to hold Chu Wanning, but he equally wanted to push him away. He desperately hoped to stay by Chu Wanning's side, yet he wished just as earnestly that Chu Wanning would never come to harm; that he would remain always pristine, untouched by his filth. He didn't know if he should put his arms around him, or if he should shrink away.
Mo Ran's hands trembled, hovering in midair for an age. At last, he cautiously placed them on Chu Wanning's back. He wept. "Shizun… Why don't you blame me… Why are you saving me…"
Chu Wanning's heart ached like it would shatter. He wrapped his arms more tightly around Mo Ran, heedless of the watching crowd. There was so much to say, but he didn't know where to begin.
"I'm so filthy… I'll get you filthy too…" Mo Ran said softly, his voice thick with blood. He sobbed, inconsolable. In Chu Wanning's arms, this man who never showed weakness in front of others was stripped of his armor. "I was scared you wouldn't want me anymore… Where else can I go if even you don't want me…"
It was Mo Ran's core that had been broken, Mo Ran's heart that had been torn into—but in that moment, Chu Wanning felt his own heart convulsing, disintegrating from a thousand wounds, mangled beyond repair. So close were they that their flesh and blood were inextricably linked.
Tianyin Pavilion's cultivators surrounded them, pressing in from all sides. Chu Wanning stood against them in white robes dyed red. He held Tianwen in one hand and Mo Ran in the other.
In the mortal realm, many things that seemed clear-cut were, upon second glance, not so simple as they first appeared. Justice rooted in self-righteousness was all too common, and selfish scheming was everywhere. The poet Qu Yuan filled his bosom with sand and walked into the weeping Miluo River. The general Yue Fei shouldered his false charges and departed with regrets unsung at Fengbo Pavilion.1 Though history ultimately cleared their names, the same could not be said for countless young and innocent loyal hearts. Not every wrongful accusation could be refuted. Many victims were consigned to the dark without a chance to present the truth.
Holding Mo Ran, Chu Wanning said softly, "You don't have to worry. I'd never abandon you."
"Shizun…"
"I'll always be with you. In life or in death, I'll always bring you home."
With the disruption of the healing spell, Mo Ran's awareness began to blur, and the pain in his heart worsened. But a shudder ran through him when he heard Chu Wanning's reassurance. Tears ran down his face, and he smiled. "You're so good to me; my basket is full… I'm so happy…" He paused, his voice thinning almost to nothing. "Shizun, I'm so tired… I'm cold…"
Fine shivers wracked Chu Wanning. He drew Mo Ran closer still, passing a continuous stream of spiritual energy through the hand holding him. But it was futile. Just as in the past life when Taxian-jun had held Chu Wanning himself, trying to save him as he sighed out his dying breaths at the summit of Kunlun Mountain—it was no use.
Chu Wanning was frantic with grief. Silent tears streamed from his reddened phoenix eyes, but still he smoothed Mo Ran's hair and bent to kiss his clammy forehead. "Stay with me," he rasped. "Tell me—which basket do you mean?"
At the edge of his awareness, he could feel that those around them wore expressions of wariness, scorn, menace, hatred, and disgust. But so what—none of it mattered anymore. Not his reputation, not his dignity, nor his life. Over two lifetimes he'd watched Mo Ran sink into the abyss, yet his hands had been tied. He felt only endless torment, that he'd failed so wretchedly.
He'd come too late.
Mo Ran's consciousness was fast fading. He was bleeding freely, and the warmth ran from his body with his blood. "You see, I have only this one little basket," he explained quietly. "My basket's full of holes. I've been trying for ages to catch something, but…it's still empty…" He curled into himself unconsciously, his voice a broken whisper through ashen lips. "Shizun… My heart, it hurts… Hold me, please?"
Chu Wanning's own heart throbbed unbearably. He murmured again and again, "I've got you. Pain, pain, go away…"
But Mo Ran could no longer hear him. His mind was in chaos, everything a mess. He was once again that helpless child freezing and starving in a ramshackle shed. He was that sobbing, howling child kneeling beside his mother's rotting corpse in a mass grave.
He was Emperor Taxian-jun, unable to return to the past, that solitary silhouette beneath the Heaven-Piercing Tower.
He was the wandering Mo-zongshi, waiting for Chu Wanning's souls to return. That man curled up in his bed on a rainy night, his pillow soaked with tears.
"It hurts. It really—it hurts so much… Shizun, have I paid my debts? Am I clean yet…"
The world blurred.
"Shizun." At last, his voice—the voice of that boy, that youth, that monster, that tyrant, that little disciple—cracked on a sob and faded like a wisp of smoke. "It's so dark, I'm scared. I want to go home…"
Chu Wanning was hanging on Mo Ran's every word. At this, a sob wracked him, stealing his breath away.
Mo Ran, Mo Ran, why are you such a dummy? Paying your debts? Being cleansed? I'm the one who owes you. No one knew the truth. Even your own memories of it were erased. But now I do.
I know how you sacrificed two lifetimes to protect me, even though you'd been my disciple only a few months when the choice was before you. You bore infamy, condemnation, and slander; you were dragged into madness, bloodlust, and filth. If not for you, the person kneeling on the Platform of Repentance today would be me. The person whose heart was carved out would be me!
Emperor Taxian-jun had sacrificed his souls to protect Yuheng of the Night Sky. From that point on, one had tumbled into the darkness, while the other had lingered in the light.
All of it was wrong.
Tianyin Pavilion's forces burst from the skies like panthers pouncing upon a long-awaited kill, wicked claws bared. A hundred-strong horde streaked toward Chu Wanning and Mo Ran.
Tianwen's golden light burned brighter, an eye-searing white.
"Kill them!"
"Don't let them go!"
Chu Wanning closed his eyes. Murderous shouts filled the air. They were beset from all sides; the disciples brandished their weapons and bore down upon them.
Within the bright web of flashing blades, Chu Wanning's eyes snapped open. He lowered one hand, spreading his fingers wide. A furious wind rose as he bellowed, "Huaisha, come!"