WPCID 41: But There Was Not a Single Shen Zhou

The night on Xiaoyin Peak was also beautiful, utterly silent save for the ceaseless chirping of crickets.

None of this mattered to Shen Zhou. The wind that blew over was not cool; it carried the moisture of the sea of flowers on the mountainside, clinging to him like a stuffy spiderweb, making the ordeal even more agonizing.

He waited on the mountaintop for an entire night.

The next morning, the residence became lively again. Lu Buzhu chased after Lu Ye, coaxing him to wash up and get dressed. Xie Xianqing arrived with new gifts. After a period of cheerful harmony, Lu Ye went off to play alone in the sea of flowers.

Shen Zhou waited for a long, long time. So long that he could hardly feel himself, as if his soul had withered in the torment. So long that when he stood up, he staggered, nearly slipping off the cliff. His palm was cut by a branch, a long gash from which blood gushed out.

He glanced down at it with some indifference, tore off a leaf, and wrapped it hastily before turning to descend the mountain.

Lu Ye tripped as he ran out the door. Before he could hit the ground, Lu Buzhu caught him. He adjusted the new longevity lock hanging around his neck, then pulled him into his arms for a closer look. His ankle was scraped a little. Xie Xianqing took out some healing ointment and applied it.

After watching the little one skip off into the sea of flowers, the two of them walked through the long corridor and returned to the bedroom.

The incense burner for the medicinal smoke had already been lit, its smell somewhat pungent.

Xie Xianqing unfolded his needle pouch and said, “Aren’t you spoiling Lu Ye a bit too much? Yesterday, he didn’t even hold his horse stance for a full hour.”

“I’m not a sword cultivator,” Lu Buzhu said, crossing his legs. 

“I’ve checked; he’s suited for sword cultivation. If he’s to train, let Chu Xuan teach him himself. I’m just looking after him temporarily. I’ll give him back once Chu Xuan comes out of seclusion.”

“…Temporarily?” Xie Xianqing looked up sharply. 

“Why?”

“Stealing the Filth Stone, colluding with demonic cultivators, the innocent disaster that befell Huangling Town… you don’t have to tell me, I know many people died that night,” Lu Buzhu said calmly. 

“The sect rules are the sect rules. I won’t be here much longer.”

“The sect rules? At a time like this, you’re still talking about the sect rules.” Xie Xianqing stopped fussing with his needles, rolled up the pouch, and walked around to face him. 

“Who doesn’t know the sect rules? Did you think I damaged my own cultivation to save your life in Biancheng because I had nothing better to do? You can’t be blamed for all of it. Lu Buzhu, your junior brother went through so much trouble to find you a way to live. Why can’t you just play dumb and live your life in blissful ignorance?”

“That was my evil soul that I separated. It all started because of me.” Lu Buzhu looked up, his face still pale and bloodless. His sweeping gaze seemed to pierce through all that was unsaid. 

“Play dumb, blissful ignorance… If I could truly deceive myself, why would Chu Xuan not dare to come and see me?”

Xie Xianqing was speechless. After a moment, he said, “You know everything.”

Lu Buzhu let out a silent “Oh,” and glanced at him again. 

“I was just bluffing.”

Xie Xianqing: “…”

Xie Xianqing was so stunned by his bluff that his mind went blank. He stared, dumbfounded, for a moment before it hit him. 

“You… no, how seriously do you take the sect rules yourself? Which rule teaches you to let a demonic cultivator escape when you’re on the brink of death? You’re taking all the blame on yourself to force Chu Xuan to punish you according to the rules, to settle everything once and for all…”

The more he thought about it, the more it felt wrong, and the words flowed more smoothly. 

“And you say ‘the sect rules are the sect rules.’ I think you just want to absolve him, to get your precious Daoist partner completely off the hook.”

Lu Buzhu: “.”

Lu Buzhu turned his head away, then turned it back. 

“We haven’t seen each other in years. How did you become so perceptive?”

“You admit it.” Xie Xianqing was incredulous. 

“You just admitted it, didn’t you? You admitted it! You… I really didn’t expect that you would rather push Chu Xuan to the point where he doesn’t dare to see you, rather sacrifice your own life, just to clear that half-demon’s name!”

“Don’t make it sound so serious. My body is… sooner or later anyway…” Lu Buzhu paused. Seeing the change in Xie Xianqing’s expression, his conscience finally kicked in, and he stopped in time. He sighed and said in a softer voice, “Consider it my debt to him.”

“But even if you use your life to clear his name, he’s still a demonic cultivator! If he has a bad day and runs into the Taiping Bureau, he’ll still die.” Xie Xianqing was at a loss for words. He pulled out his fan and tapped it against his chest. 

“You… you can’t force Chu Xuan to swear he’ll never harm him. You have to be reasonable, Lu Buzhu!”

“He won’t,” Lu Buzhu said. 

“Shen Zhou won’t hurt anyone. As long as he doesn’t hurt anyone, the Taiping Bureau won’t find him.”

Xie Xianqing was silent for a long time. He propped his forehead with his hand, as if in defeat.

After a long while, he turned around, snapped open his fan to reveal the four large characters “Utterly Useless,” and said, “You don’t sound like someone from Xiaoyin Peak. Which demonic cultivator doesn’t end up eating people? They haven’t even finished clearing the disemboweled corpses in Huangling Town. It’s not that I don’t trust your judgment; I don’t trust demonic cultivators. He might not hurt people now, but what about in the future? We’ve known each other for so many years. Is it wrong for me to think a little more on your behalf?”

“But I trust him.”

There was no continuing this conversation. Xie Xianqing folded his fan, dropped the pretense, and sent a message to Chu Xuan right in front of him.

“You just wait, I’ll tell Chu Xuan right now… Huh? He said it seems a demonic cultivator snuck in yesterday… Hey, where are you going?”

Lu Buzhu’s face changed drastically. With a flick of his wrist, he grabbed a handful of talismans and vanished in an instant, leaving only the wide-open door creaking and swaying.

In the sea of flowers on the mountainside.

Shen Zhou stood behind a rock taller than a man, holding a disobedient puppet in his hand.

There was truly something wrong with this puppet. It even attacked its master, biting and breaking the skin on Shen Zhou’s wrist. It seemed to know its demonic core was about to be taken and struggled so hard that tears fell from its eyes.

Shen Zhou threw it to the ground and held it down with one hand, his voice slightly hoarse. 

“What are you crying for?”

The longevity lock around the puppet’s neck jingled as it struggled. Shen Zhou had never seen it before and only found it noisy. He tore it off and tossed it aside.

He was no longer wearing the Kunlun Ruins disciple uniform; he had changed back into his red robes on his way down the mountain.

The red robes didn’t fit well; they were a bit too long for him. When he crouched down, the long hem covered the flowers and grass. A gust of wind would make the scarlet fabric sway, making him exceptionally conspicuous.

“Don’t move, it will be over soon,” Shen Zhou said in a low voice. His index finger slid gently across the puppet’s chest. Demonic energy cut into the flesh like a sharp blade, carving out a fresh, beating heart.

Embedded in the center of the heart was that small fragment of the demonic core.

He lowered his head and ate the fragment.

His hands and the corners of his mouth were covered in blood, which trickled down his wrist and neck, merging with his scarlet robes.

The wind in the sea of flowers suddenly turned chaotic.

Several whooshing sounds came from behind him, accompanied by a frantic, unhinged, almost roaring cry that Shen Zhou had never heard before: “Lu Ye!!!!”

The voice was so familiar that Shen Zhou turned around instinctively.

“Pfft—”

His body suddenly felt light.

Demon-subduing talismans shot through the air like shooting stars, piercing his body like sharp arrows. There were exactly eight of them, no more, no less.

Just like the eight soul-piercing nails from his past life, they pinned him to the giant rock behind him.

The cloth strips scattered like falling blossoms, revealing the wolf ears they had concealed. The silver ornaments on them glinted faintly before dimming.

Lu Buzhu stopped five steps away.

He was somewhat dazed, dazed to the point of confusion. He clearly saw it, yet it was as if he couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. He looked at the trembling wolf ears, the blood-soaked red robes, and… Shen Zhou.

Blood dripped from his fingertips, and there was blood at the corner of his mouth. It was impossible to tell whose blood it was. It dripped, drip by drip, onto the flowers and grass, winding its way across the ground, flowing past the silver longevity lock.

The owner of the longevity lock lay silently on the ground, a small body with its heart dug out, the traces of dried tears still on its cheeks.

Lu Buzhu’s face was as pale as a sheet of paper. The talisman held between his fingers fluttered to the ground, landing in the encroaching stream of blood, where it was soaked, rotted, and left to decay in the mud.

“…Shen Zhou?” he asked, though no sound actually came out.

The reflection of the red robes in his eyes nearly stained his pupils red.

Upon the blood-drenched rock, a gaze fell, heavy yet light. It was carried to his ears by a hoarse and weary voice: “Lu Buzhu, why didn’t you die…”

…and yet you didn’t come looking for me?

He had clearly tried so, so hard. He loved him to the point where he could disregard everything, offering up his whole heart with all his might. Not knowing how to be good to someone, he had taken out everything he had for the other to weigh and choose, desperately hoping to earn a shred of his attention. When it was stolen away, he only wanted to take it back and hide it away safely.

But it couldn’t compare to a sea of flowers on Xiaoyin Peak, or to someone else’s casual “Senior Brother.”

He wasn’t even as good as a puppet.

Like that handful of inconspicuous wild berries that had been trampled underfoot.

Shen Zhou had so, so many questions he wanted to ask. His vision was blurred by blood, and a stone of a thousand pounds seemed to be lodged in his throat, making it impossible for him to even finish his first sentence.

He didn’t want to ask anymore.

…It hurts so much.

The places that were bleeding, the places that were pierced… the wounds from his past and present lives seemed to overlap, the pain so excruciating his lips trembled, a pain that drilled through his heart and bones.

His senses began to blur again, and he fell towards the darkness.

He faintly heard someone shouting: “Lu Buzhu! Lu Buzhu!!”

Other noisy voices mixed in, mentioning many names, so many… names he knew, and names he didn’t.

But there was not a single Shen Zhou.

No one said, “Shen Zhou.”