SISHENG PEAK was engulfed in battle. The volunteer army had rushed up to the summit. The vanguard was locked in combat with Zhenlong pawns while the defensive forces set up barriers, and medics darted in and out of the fighting. Thousands of spells crossed in midair, the dark behemoth of the mountain set aglow by the sparks of war.
Even in the commotion, Xue Meng's attacks were striking, his bright flames scorching the heavens. When Chu Wanning glanced over in the whipping night wind, his heart twisted with grief. Xue Meng was already drawing energy from his spiritual core. Chu Wanning needed to complete his mission quickly, or Xue Meng would meet the same end as Nangong Si.
"Rising Dragon—come!" Holding the talisman between two fingers, Chu Wanning dabbed a drop of blood on the paper and cast it into the air. With a distant roar like the tolling of a bell, the paper Dragon of the Candle burst through the rain-laden clouds.
"Chu Wanning, why do you summon this venerable one?"
Sword-like brows drawn low, Chu Wanning commanded, "Take me to the end of the Martyr's Path—quickly."
The paper dragon's beady eyes swept over the blazing lands below. "Come on up," it said without preamble.
Dragon and rider rushed through the pelting rain toward the farthest reaches of that path paved with the bodies of the dead. From his perch in the sky, Chu Wanning could see the glowing scarlet seam between the mortal and demonic realms, pulsing like blood from an artery toward domains unknown.
The mountain's backwoods, so close to the gate to the demon realm, were suffused with demonic qi. Clouds of fiery red and pale violet drifted above them, though no rain poured from the heavens here. The great dragon swooped downward. In the instant it might have landed, it vanished back into its talisman in a golden flash. Chu Wanning's feet touched down firmly on the Martyr's Path. He took a deep breath and looked up.
"You came?" a cool voice remarked.
Shi Mei stood at the very end of the path, the infernal gate at his back. With Xue Meng and the Mei twins keeping Taxian-jun pinned down, Shi Mei's protective barrier had vanished. He turned his lovely face to slant a glance at Chu Wanning. "I expected nothing less."
The wisps of hair framing Shi Mei's face fluttered in the wind. He shifted his gaze back to the demon gate's swirling shadows. "The Space-Time Gate's been ripped wide open, but rather than hurrying to patch it, you're fixated on stopping us from going home."
Chu Wanning didn't take the bait. "The three forbidden techniques were created by Gouchen the Exalted. In the presence of demonic qi, their strength will multiply. It's not that I wish to prevent the Butterfly-Boned clan from returning. If demonic qi floods into this world when it's connected to the demon realm, the Space-Time Gate will become an even larger rift, impossible to close."
Shi Mei was silent for a moment, then let out a mirthless laugh. "It's not so easy to fool you after all."
Chu Wanning wasted no more words. Blazing golden light uncoiled in his palm. Yet the instant Tianwen lashed out, a silhouette darted in front of Shi Mei to block the blow.
"I won't let you touch him," Mu Yanli snarled, brandishing her sword. Her eyes flashed as bright as her blade's reflection. "He's suffered enough."
"Mu-jiejie…" Shi Mei began.
Somehow, Mu Yanli had managed to assemble a crowd of hundreds of Zhenlong pawns behind her, ready to sacrifice themselves to the Martyr's Path. Alarmed, Chu Wanning darted forward to attack the horde of pawns, but Mu Yanli swiftly blocked his way.
"Step aside!" Chu Wanning thundered.
Mu Yanli scoffed. "Why should I? The cultivation realm has never cared for the lives of Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts. Why should your lives have any bearing on their homecoming?" She lifted her sword and swung.
Her figure was wreathed in white-gold brilliance, terrifyingly bright. Mu Yanli held nothing back—to maximize her combat power, she'd shattered her spiritual core. She may have been generations removed, but she was still a descendant of the gods. The power unleashed from her core was, while it lasted, even greater than Taxian-jun's.
"The might of grandmasters and the righteousness of the great sects—these are all hollow," said Mu Yanli, her eyes cold and hard. "For thousands of years, you people have drunk human blood and eaten human flesh. You'll do anything in the name of achieving immortality!"
Chu Wanning dismissed Tianwen and brought up Huaisha, using all his strength to counter the overbearing spiritual energy coursing through her sword. Not a single drop of Butterfly-Boned blood ran in Mu Yanli's veins; on the contrary, she was of divine ancestry. Yet this woman was willing to stake her life to help a demonic clan return to their realm.
He and Mu Yanli flew like lissome kites, white robes and golden sleeves fluttering. Their every move sliced through the air with murderous intent. As their weapons clashed, their eyes met over a shower of sparks.
"Meddlesome prick!" Mu Yanli spat.
"Not everyone in this world…is as you say," Chu Wanning said through gritted teeth.
He had traversed an endless night to stand here, all warmth stripped from him. But he remembered Madam Rong's kindness of a meal, remembered Luo Xianxian's unwillingness to bring harm upon others, remembered the loyalty of Sisheng Peak's disciples to the principle of justice over coin, remembered Chu Xun carving out his heart to light the way for his people.
He remembered the radiant smiles of Yuliang Village's inhabitants and the dignity of Flying Flower Isle's mistress; he remembered how Nangong Si had sacrificed himself to subdue evil, remembered how Li Wuxin had brought others to safety on his sword.
He remembered Nangong Changying's serene smile as his figure faded into motes of golden light. This world is so beautiful, he had said. The color of its flowers is enough; there's no need for the red of spilled blood.
Now, amidst this unfolding calamity, their shadows seemed to appear before him, even those broken, departed, or forever lost. He remembered Ye Wangxi too. All those years ago, she'd unhesitatingly paid a fortune to save a solitary Butterfly-Boned woman at Xuanyuan Pavilion, giving her new prospects and her freedom.
"So what?" retorted Mu Yanli. "Am I supposed to forgive the sins of the entire realm on account of a few exceptions?" Hatred roughened her voice, and she struck with renewed venom. "My mother was good and kind, but because she was a Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feast, my monster of a father ate her alive. Was her life not a life?"
Met with Chu Wanning's silence, Mu Yanli continued, furious. "She was the only person who cared for me, who saw me as a daughter. No one else ever treated me like a human being—not my father, nor the sect elders, nor any of you cultivators. The blood of the gods runs in me, so everyone looks at me like a set of impartial scales. All of you wanted me to snuff out my own selfishness, to free my heart of desires… But why should I?!"
The blaze of power from her spiritual core had reached its zenith. Mu Yanli's figure was wreathed in the white-gold radiance of the heavens. The shattering of her core was different from that of mere mortals: Even her eyes and hair began to glow faintly gold. Each of her blows rained down with the force of a mountain's collapse.
"So heavenly heirs must be heartless and the Butterfly-Boned clan must be devoured, just because it's always been that way?"
Their blades scraped shrilly, a sharp, metallic whine. But sharper yet were Mu Yanli's eyes as she spoke, each word a barb. "Chu-zongshi. You've never looked into the history of the Butterfly-Boned clan, have you?"
Chu Wanning didn't answer.
"It's a chronicle of cannibalism… In the past, cultivators refined the Butterfly-Boned into pills to aid ascension—and now, the Butterfly-Boned are paving their way home with all of you!"
Mu Yanli raised her sword and swung it with all her might toward Chu Wanning.
"Jiuge, come!" Chu Wanning bellowed.
Huaisha vanished, and the guqin appeared. As its first notes rang out, a brilliant beam of golden light shot toward the heavens, illuminating the entirety of Sisheng Peak. An immense barrier opened up before Chu Wanning, haitang blossoms drifting over its surface. Mu Yanli's sword crashed against it.
He stood in midair, sleeves whipping in the wind as he took in Mu Yanli's hateful visage. Her hatred was not for him, but for the world's injustices—for her mother's tragic end, for her lack of self-determination, for her own trapped existence, bound by her duties.
"Let them go," she said at last. She had funneled most of her remaining spiritual energy into this final blow, yet it still wasn't enough to break Chu Wanning's barrier. A line of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Her throat was dry, and her sword arm was beginning to tremble. Her core was about to disintegrate completely.
Mu Yanli looked up at Chu Wanning. "Please…" she rasped softly.
In her pale golden irises, Chu Wanning saw his own reflection. He scarcely recognized himself. His face was haggard, blank, twisted, lost. Simultaneously cruel and compassionate in its emptiness.
"Let them go home… Chu-xianjun…"
His reflection vanished, along with the golden light in her eyes. Distraught, it took Chu Wanning a moment to realize why: Mu Yanli had exhausted the last of her strength. Her spiritual core had fully fractured, taking the white-golden light with it. A pair of pitch-dark eyes gazed up at Chu Wanning. Her armor was gone; she had no path forward. Never again would she be that cold and proud heir of the heavens. Her eyes now were no different from any other woman's.
On behalf of her brother, on behalf of the descendants of demons who had opposed her own race, she implored him, "Let them go, please…"
The glowing sword in her hand had gone dull. It had reached its limit in this furious battle; the moment her spiritual energy ran out, it splintered.
"I'm begging you."
Mu Yanli tumbled from the sky, white and gold robes fanning out like a lotus in bloom. Tianyin Pavilion's totem—a set of scales—glimmered in the night, a bright symbol of justice at her waist.
The sound of heaven rings out; thou shalt not covet.
The sound of heaven lives on; thou shalt not lust.
The sound of heaven carries far; thou shalt not blaspheme.
The sound of heaven knows mercy, and thus honors thee.
She'd grown up reciting this mantra. Whether she said the words with her eyes open or closed, they were like chains snaking around her limbs. The very first words she'd learned weren't Papa or Mama, but rather the beginning of this chant—The sound of heaven rings out. Every day she recited it countless times, kneeling before the statues of the gods in prayer.
Thou shalt not covet… Thou shalt not lust… Thou shalt not blaspheme… The sound of heaven thus honors thee.
On the first birthday she could remember, her cold and unfeeling father had given her a box of finely crafted clay figurines, painted in vivid hues and dusted with gold. When she'd opened that brocade box, their little faces had smiled up at her. "Ah—they're beautiful!"
Her father gazed down at her coolly. "Do you like them?"
"I do!" Mu Yanli grinned up at him, her heart blooming with warmth as though a firework had gone off in her chest. "Thank you, Papa!"
That man she called Papa patted her on the head and took the box from her hands. Then, right in front of her, he threw it to the ground. The ceramic dolls shattered with an ear-splitting crash.
Clay figurines could not speak; their cracked eyes and mouths were still curved in broken smiles. Mu Yanli stared at them in an uncomprehending daze before bursting into shocked tears. She reached down to snatch her dolls up from the ground.
A white shoe embroidered with an emblem of measuring scales trod down on the heads of those dolls with a sickening crunch. When her father lifted his foot, only dusty fragments remained.
Just moments ago, the dolls had been laid out so neatly before her, flashing their adorable smiles. Why? Why did it have to be like this? Wasn't this her birthday present? What had she done wrong? What had she done to anger her father so, that he'd snuff out the lives of these innocent little clay people too?
"The sound of heaven lives on; thou shalt not lust," the man intoned to his wailing daughter. "To love is to lose oneself and lose sight of justice. You are descended from the gods, the arbiter of right and wrong in the human realm. The real present I'm giving you today is a lesson: You must never get so attached to anything as to love it."
Thou shalt not covet… Thou shalt not lust…
Thou shalt not covet shalt not lust shalt not covet shalt not lust—the mantra echoed through her mind like a curse. As smoke curled up from the censer, those solemn, majestic words echoed in the prayer hall. The sound of heaven—rings out—
Countless nights she'd spent beneath her blankets and behind her canopies, clutching her head, lips parted around frantic, soundless screams. Yet she couldn't find a way out, couldn't find the answer…
What did it mean to have a father, to have a mother?
When she'd once reached out to embrace her birth mother, the deranged Lady Lin had stabbed her with a pair of shears. When her hands were gouged full of bloody holes, Lady Lin turned the shears on her throat…
Thou shalt not covet.
Thou shalt not covet!
Consumed by agony in the dark of night, she'd knelt alone before the statues of the gods. The words she spoke aloud honored the deities, while within her heart roiled the fervent desire to reduce these statues to powder.
Thus did she grow from a girl into a maiden, and finally into a woman. Eventually, thousands knelt behind her, chanting those words that had been carved into her bones: "The sound of heaven rings out; thou shalt not covet…"
Once, shoulders shaking in the throes of madness, she'd fantasized about hacking every last member of Tianyin Pavilion to pieces, then turning her sword on herself. Yet in this darkest moment, she seemed to hear a gentle voice in her ear, sweet and girlish, that sang to her softly, Reeds grow tall, reeds grow high; past rolling hills I meet your eyes. Here on this side lies my home, over there is sea and foam.
Mu Yanli opened her eyes. Sunlight spilled onto the ground from behind the holy statues.
By then, she was already the master of Tianyin Pavilion. Startled, she ran her gaze over the fractured shadows before her. As that voice sang on, they seemed to metamorphose into gently swaying reeds, their cottony seeds floating on the wind. Within the reeds stood a woman, extending a hand to Mu Yanli with a gentle smile. Here on this side lies my home…over there is sea and foam…
"Mama…" Mu Yanli mumbled.
She'd called Lady Lin Mother, formal and proper. She'd only ever called one person Mama—her stepmother, the nanny who'd raised her from birth. Perhaps others could never understand why she didn't resent this woman for usurping her birth mother's position. But those people didn't know that in the entirety of her austere existence, it was only in those few years with Hua Gui that Mu Yanli had known laughter and kindness, warm embraces and tender affection. Even if she explained this, no one would believe her.
The nursery rhyme with which Hua Gui put her to bed was the only song Mu Yanli knew besides Tianyin Pavilion's mantra. The same tune that had once calmed her inner demons had transformed into a refrain that fueled her nightmares.
"Mu-jiejie!"
She seemed to hear her brother Hua Binan cry out. Never had she heard such desperation in his voice. But there was only so much she could do. She used the last wisp of her spiritual energy to cushion her landing, but not out of any sense of self-preservation. Gritting her teeth, she writhed like a maggot until she reached the end of the Martyr's Path. Before everyone's shocked gazes, she gathered her remaining strength and threw herself onto the bridge.
"I, Mu Yanli, willingly sacrifice myself to this cause, in the hope that you may return home at last."
Shi Mei pelted over, frantic—but it was too late. Mu Yanli only had time to give him a final glance. She had always been aloof and reserved; even her skin emanated a frosty gleam. But at that moment, when she looked up at her half brother born of a race inimical to her own, her smile was beatific.
"Jie—!"
Her eyes curved into crescents as she fell, face raised to the heavens. That unflappable woman looked up at the remote sky to which she'd prayed countless times. "Shalt not covet, my ass."
A beam of red light shot out of the bridge as her body was engulfed by the Martyr's Path's scarlet flames. She seemed to hear a sweet voice coming from behind that great portal. It was her mama, fanning her with a little gauze fan on a hot summer's day, singing softly: "Reeds grow tall, reeds grow high; past rolling hills I meet your eyes."
Here on this side lies my home…over there is sea and foam…
"Pavilion Master Mu!"
"Miss Mu!"
The supposed pawns on the Martyr's Path behind her suddenly burst into wails. They rushed toward Mu Yanli, kneeling by the woman who'd used her divine blood to pave the way for a demon clan. She had already turned into the thirtieth step from the end of the path, her body swallowed up by infernal flames.
Chu Wanning landed upon the ground, fingertips numb. The silhouettes of the crowd swayed before his eyes. He'd assumed these were Zhenlong pawns Mu Yanli had brought; only now did he realize it wasn't so. Their robes marked most of them as personal disciples of Tianyin Pavilion's master, but the tears that streamed down their gorgeous faces were golden.
All of them were Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts.
Under Mu Yanli's leadership, Tianyin Pavilion had taken in these surviving members of the Butterfly-Boned clan under the guise of disciples. Mu Yanli had brought them out of the murderous fray so they could go home as soon as the path was finished. Frantic, they threw themselves to the ground where she lay.
"Murderer!" One of them whipped around and screamed at Chu Wanning, features twisted with hostility, "You're a murderer!"
"Why do you insist on making us your enemy? Why did you force Pavilion Master Mu to her death?!"
On each of those surpassingly beautiful faces were eyes alight with the deepest hatred. Mindless with grief, several rushed heedlessly at Chu Wanning like moths to a flame.
Chu Wanning stood in place, the world dim before his eyes. To stave off the feeble spiritual energy of these Butterfly-Boned disciples was nothing to him; he'd hardly need to lift a finger to erect a barrier they'd be powerless to bring down.
Murderer… Criminal.
Zongshi. Savior.
Chu Wanning closed his eyes. What was he doing? What could he still hope to accomplish? Mo Ran was dead, space-time was torn, and heavenly judgment was nigh. Mu Yanli had surrendered herself to the demonic cause, and Xue Meng was depleting his spiritual core to keep Taxian-jun at bay.
The blades glinting coldly before him seemed to coalesce into a massive, treacherous wall standing in his way. Just as not all the world's inhabitants were evil, not all the Butterfly-Boned were guilty. But he had to stop them from finishing their road home, even if all that remained were twenty-nine more steps, twenty-nine more lives. He couldn't allow them to leave; he couldn't allow the gate to the demon realm to open. If it did, divine punishment would descend even more swiftly. Both worlds would be annihilated before anyone could resist.
How callous would he be if he allowed such a calamity to unfold before his eyes?
He couldn't—he couldn't hesitate a moment longer, couldn't soften his heart even a fraction. Mo Ran's name had been dragged through the mud over two lifetimes, and Xue Meng was presently putting his life on the line to buy him time. And that was to say nothing of all those who'd died unjustly, all those who made up this bloody road beneath his feet.
"Murderer!"
"You want to kill us! You want us dead!"
"You'll get what you deserve, you heartless monster!"
Though his conscience curled in on itself as if singed by flames, his heart was hard as iron. Chu Wanning's eyes snapped open. He would be the murderer—he had no other choice.
"Shi Mingjing."
Shi Mei looked at him across the surging crowd, tear tracks glistening on that face that could topple nations. His eyes were manic yet oddly empty. As the wind picked up, his sleeves fluttered. He seemed to understand that Chu Wanning had come to kill him.
Gold flashed in Chu Wanning's palm as Huaisha materialized once more. Lashing tendrils of sword qi knocked aside the Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts that were attempting to block Chu Wanning's way, throwing them heavily to the ground. Chu Wanning leapt into the air, eyes cold as a frost-glazed dagger, his blade arcing toward Shi Mei.
Suddenly the Martyr's Path beneath them shook violently as great columns of scarlet light erupted from its surface. Several shot up in front of Chu Wanning, sending him reeling back.
"Look!" someone yelled. "Up ahead!"
"It's the gate to the demon realm! What's going on?"
"The bridge is getting longer—the bridge reached the gate!"
And then a final shriek of joy: "The gate's opening!"
Shi Mei looked up, astonished. Where Mu Yanli had died, a pale golden glow lit the bridge. The light ran along the very last steps and then soared toward the demon realm's gate with shocking speed.
Chu Wanning's face drained of color, while Shi Mei's expression of surprise gave way to ecstasy. The Martyr's Path was almost complete—the bridge between the human and demon realms was finally built.
A wizened voice boomed from behind the gate, its tone congratulatory: "The Martyr's Path has received divine sacrifice. You youngsters have taken a life from the tribe of the gods and given it to my road. You have made your intentions clear."
The voice was so loud everyone within miles of Sisheng Peak could hear it. All those engaged in battle across the mountain looked toward the backwoods.
Jiang Xi's face had gone bloodless. He wasn't alone—everyone understood that the gate to the demon realm was on the verge of opening.
"Heavenly retribution is nigh," that languid voice continued. "Since you have offered up one of the divine race, His Majesty the Demon Lord will waive the last twenty-nine steps as a show of his great mercy. The gate to the demon realm shall open and allow you to return home!"
"What?!"
The mountain exploded with panicked shouts. Master Ma of Taobao Estate sat down on the ground and burst into tears. "Heavens above! What do we do?"
Others had turned gray with fright, legs shaking. "Heavenly retribution is nigh? What heavenly retribution… What does that mean?!"
Xue Meng and the Mei twins, still battling Taxian-jun, started in surprise. The instant Xue Meng's concentration wavered, Taxian-jun threw off his bindings and leapt up. The backlash of spiritual energy nearly knocked Xue Meng off his feet; his chest constricted, and he vomited a mouthful of blood.
At the sound of retching, Taxian-jun turned back to stare at Xue Meng. Confusion flooded his scarlet eyes. Memories swirled through his mind once more as the souls within him clamored for dominance. "Xue Meng…?"
Mei Hänxue drew the longsword Shuofeng and stepped in front of his brother and Xue Meng. "Watch out," he warned.
But Taxian-jun didn't attack. His brows were knit tightly, his face a mask of pain. "No… What's going on here—what is this?!"
A wordless cry tore from his throat, furious and bewildered. All composure lost, he shot off toward the dark backwoods.
Only when Taxian-jun was out of sight did Mei Hänxue let down his guard and return to the other two. "How are you doing?" he asked Xue Meng.
"Don't worry about me; find Shizun! Tell him about the spells we set up!"
Mei Hanxue took hold of Xue Meng's wrist and shook his head. "Your spiritual core is about to break. We have to treat you first."
"Go!" Xue Meng roared.
"Why don't I go ahead—you two stay here," Mei Hanxue suggested. They couldn't afford a delay. He pointed at Xue Meng. "Ge, help him get his energy under control. I'll find Chu-zongshi."
The last steps of the Martyr's Path had materialized, linking the human and demon realms at last. The crowd of Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts trembled, their expressions rapt. None dared to step forward first; even Shi Mei was motionless.
Time seemed to come to a standstill. Perhaps only a fraction of a second passed; perhaps it was a sickeningly long wait. The gate began to vibrate with a low rumble. Fog billowed out and whipping winds rose. Heaven and earth seemed to take a great, gasping breath.
A fissure ran down the middle of the extravagantly carved gate, and dazzling scarlet light burst from the gap. Chu Wanning felt an unfamiliar energy surge, terrifyingly malevolent. Such was the power of the race that could master the three great forbidden techniques.
The demon realm lay before their eyes.