WPCID 45: Guilty. Not Guilty.

The illusion within the sword receded like a tide, only to surge back in a repeating cycle.

Suddenly, the entire space trembled slightly. A corner of the black fog that perpetually shrouded the Myriad Bone Cave dissipated, revealing a patch of overcast sky.

The two souls, originating from the same source, had thrown the Punishment Sword’s judgment into chaos.

Lu Buzhuo abruptly curled up.

His eyes burned with excruciating pain, the root of his tongue felt severed, and it was as if countless invisible blades were hacking at his body, each strike filled with intense hatred, splattering blood everywhere.

The pain was clear and violent, imposing upon him torments he had never suffered. His soul burned, his body was dismembered, and for a moment, the man lying in a pool of blood seemed to shatter.

The Punishment Sword froze for an instant.

At that very moment, from the patch of sky where the two illusions overlapped, a black arrow suddenly shot out!

Its wings flickered with the faint sound of wind and thunder, like a long, dark saber, it slashed through the chaotic and painful illusion and, with unerring accuracy, pounced onto Lu Buzhuo.

Then it lowered its head, rubbed its beak against his tightly shut eyes, and squawked sadly, “Daoist companion.”

The Punishment Sword had never judged such a complex situation.

Three souls. One was about to die before its judgment was complete, and another had broken into the first one’s illusion.

This little black bird, from its head to its tail feathers, showed not a single trace of evil. Logically, it should have left long ago. Yet, it had squeezed through a crack, spreading its wings to protect the soul still under judgment, desperately using its own weak power to heal the other.

It could not harm an innocent soul, but this innocent soul was also weakening rapidly, on the verge of dying within the judgment’s illusion.

Meanwhile, the evil soul, which had already confessed its guilt, took advantage of the chaos to escape.

Good was not rewarded, and evil was not punished.

The Punishment Sword had no true soul of its own, only a remnant of consciousness left behind by the Ancestral Master before his departure. In several thousand years, it had only truly judged a handful of people. It couldn’t even see people clearly, let alone understand human nature.

And now, its own turn had finally come.

Guilty. Not guilty.
Not guilty. Guilty.

…

In broad daylight, a loud boom echoed through the Sword Bestowal Valley, sending dust flying.

A quarter of an hour later, the elders rushed to the valley entrance, staring at the restrictive barrier that had collapsed and vanished in less than two days. They looked at each other in dismay.

Another half a quarter of an hour later, Chu Xuan arrived and charged into the Sword Bestowal Valley, carrying out the unconscious and blood-soaked Lu Buzhuo.

The smell of blood from the man in his arms was suffocatingly strong. The little paper figure was soaked into a pulp, clearly having been of no use.

Chu Xuan’s face was chillingly cold, with a barely perceptible hint of ferocity.

“Are you satisfied now?”

Someone spoke up: “The Punishment Sword’s judgment should have lasted three days. He must have used some trick…”

Swish—

A sharp slash of sword energy grazed the man’s cheek, and a line of crimson blood slowly trickled down, also severing a lock of his sideburns.

“Is there anyone else who is not satisfied?”

The crowd immediately started buzzing.
“Sect Leader, what is the meaning of this? We were merely acting according to the sect rules!”

“Sect rules?” Chu Xuan said coldly. 

“Just now, I saw the Sword Bestowal Stele shattered and the sword’s body damaged within the valley. Is this the result of your Elder Hall’s diligent duty? You can’t even look after a single sword, yet you want to bypass me time and again to interfere in the affairs of Small Hidden Peak?! Get out of my way!”

Hearing that the Punishment Sword was damaged, the faces of everyone from the Elder Hall changed drastically. They instantly had no time for nonsense and scrambled into the valley in a panic.

On Shuyu Peak.

One moment, Shen Zhou was lying peacefully in bed, listening to Xie Xianqing read from a dull medical book to pass the time. The next moment, he suddenly developed a high fever.

The illness came on without any warning and raged fiercely. Before long, his whole body was burning hot and he was barely conscious. His wolf ears drooped limply.

Xie Xianqing was startled. Just then, his communication jade slip lit up, saying there was trouble at the Sword Bestowal Valley.

He hesitated for a moment, then sent a message to Chu Xuan: “I can’t get away from here. You go check on the situation first. If anything happens to Lu Buzhuo, send him to Shuyu Peak immediately. I’ll be ready.”

With that, he put away the jade slip, went to the pharmacy to prepare medicine, instructed a young boy to brew it, and returned to watch over Shen Zhou without leaving his side.

A feverish Shen Zhou was much more docile than usual. He curled into a listless ball under the covers, his wolf ears hot and soft, like two freshly steamed rice cakes.

He ate whatever Xie Xianqing fed him. When the fever became too unbearable, he would nuzzle against the back of Xie Xianqing’s cool hand.

Xie Xianqing: “.”

There were no disciples on Shuyu Peak, and given his status, he normally didn’t need to take care of juniors.

Of the two patients he had cared for the most in the past, one relied on his ability to draw strange talismans and was faster than a monkey at escaping his medicine. The other would just stare at him expressionlessly, down the medicine in one gulp, and ask if there was more.

Later, the one who loved to escape stopped escaping. He would sit on the veranda like a man at death’s door, and with a little coaxing, would obediently take a couple of sips of the medicine brought to him. The expressionless one, however, learned to joke, although his jokes weren’t very funny, as he would just repeatedly tell the embarrassing story of how he blew up his own cauldron while refining pills.

…But he had never taken care of such a grumpy junior.

Although he always had a sour look on his face, that was all it was. Sometimes, when he fell asleep outside, he would hide in the cracks of rocks or in the grass. When patted awake, he would jump in fright, his wolf fur standing on end. It seemed he had a very hard life before.

After watching for a while, he said, “Shen Zhou.”

Shen Zhou was dizzy with fever. Hearing someone call his name, he nudged a few times in the direction of the voice and mumbled, “Mm.”

The person stroked his wolf ears and said again, “Shen Zhou.”

The wolf ears seemed to perk up happily, wagging slightly. With his eyes closed, Shen Zhou grabbed the person’s hand and placed it on his cheek. After a moment, he murmured in his sleep, “Lu… Lu Buzhuo…”

His soul seemed to have left his body, floating forward unsteadily. Swoosh. It grew wings, and wind and thunder surged.

He couldn’t tell if what he was seeing was an illusion or something else—the black fog-like demonic energy, the blood-drenched soul-piercing nails, and himself, abandoned to fend for himself in the Myriad Bone Cave.

…But why was Lu Buzhuo also kneeling on the ground, so wretched and covered in blood?

He wanted to get closer, to see more clearly.

With just that thought, his wings folded, and he landed beside Lu Buzhuo’s closed eyes, getting very, very close. There was a drop of blood on Lu Buzhuo’s eyelashes. He lowered his head and tasted it.

It was very bitter and metallic. Shen Zhou didn’t like it.

He wanted to say something, but his mouth wouldn’t obey, letting out a squawk of “Daoist companion.”

It sounded very sad.

Why was he sad? Shen Zhou wondered in a daze. He tilted his head and pecked at a strand of his daoist companion’s hair, which was soaked with blood by his ear.

Lu Buzhuo still didn’t wake up.

This messy dream put Shen Zhou in a very bad mood. He paced back and forth a few steps, then spread his wings to cover Lu Buzhuo’s face, trying to warm that icy cold face with the fine down under his wings.

As he was covering him, he fell asleep again.

Just as Xie Xianqing had lulled the boy to sleep, he heard the sound of the door being kicked open outside. He turned his head to see Chu Xuan carrying a blood-soaked Lu Buzhuo, and his head instantly began to throb.

After a flurry of chaotic activity, Chu Xuan sat quietly to the side. He didn’t bother with the blood on his hands and clothes, simply watching the two people lying side by side.

After a moment, he suddenly said, “I never thought Senior Brother would have a daoist companion, and get himself into such a state.”

Xie Xianqing was busy and couldn’t spare the attention, so he just gave a noncommittal “mm.”

Then he heard the other man ask out of the blue, “Are daoist companions that good?”

“Good, exceptionally good,” Xie Xianqing said without even a sideways glance, focusing on where he was placing the needles, and started spouting nonsense. 

“One gets seriously injured, the other starts running a fever. They have to be placed together to heal on Shuyu Peak. When they wake up, they might even have the energy to dredge up some old scores, argue a bit, break a few teacups and bowls, and then not even pay me back.”

Chu Xuan: “…”

Chu Xuan: “Then separate them.”

“That would be even worse,” Xie Xianqing said.

“Being close, when Shen Zhou wakes up and sees how badly Lu Buzhuo is hurt, his heart might soften and they’ll make up. If we don’t strike while the iron is hot and put them together, in a couple of days when Lu Buzhuo is better and can’t win back his daoist companion, he’ll faint from anxiety and anger. He might end up living at my Shuyu Peak permanently.”

After listening for a while, Chu Xuan realized Xie Xianqing was biased. 

“…You’ve gotten friendly with this half-demon?”

“More or less,” Xie Xianqing recommended, “Do you want to pet his ears?”

Chu Xuan coldly refused, “No.”

Hearing the refusal, Xie Xianqing finally looked up at him and said with regret, “Shen Zhou has quite a temper. Once he’s awake, you won’t get a chance to pet them even if you want to.”

His regret was as if Chu Xuan had missed out on something incredibly wonderful.

Chu Xuan: “…”

He suddenly regretted hiding the half-demon on Shuyu Peak, but there was nowhere else to hide him.

So he shut his mouth and stopped discussing with Xie Xianqing whether or not to pet the half-demon’s ears.

Shen Zhou’s illness came and went quickly. After a few bowls of medicinal soup, the fever subsided.

Lu Buzhuo’s condition, however, was not good.

His spiritual altar was a complete mess—the mountains didn’t look like mountains and the water didn’t look like water, as if it had been plowed over. His soul was also nowhere to be seen, buried somewhere.

His sea of qi was also shattered, as if pierced by a sword, causing his meridians to wither, leaving him almost breathless.

Xie Xianqing didn’t dare to act rashly. He only replenished his sea of qi and treated his basic injuries, but he was helpless when it came to the spiritual altar.

A few days later.

Shen Zhou woke up first. He did see Lu Buzhuo’s miserable, almost breathless state, but he only frowned, walked around him to get out of bed, and stumbled out of the room.

Xie Xianqing was outside drying medicinal herbs. His green hair ribbon fluttered slightly in the wind, and with the sunlight falling on him, he looked like a lush green medicinal plant, busy at work.

“Xie Xianqing,” Shen Zhou called out weakly.

Xie Xianqing was startled. He dropped the winnowing basket of herbs and came over to support him. 

“Why are you up?”

“The bed is prickly, so I got up,” Shen Zhou said expressionlessly. 

“Get me a different bed.”

Xie Xianqing: “…”
Xie Xianqing: “I don’t have any other empty beds here…”

As soon as he finished speaking, Chu Xuan came over, draped in his robes and looking like he had just woken up. He had clearly spent the night at Shuyu Peak.

Shen Zhou pointed at him: “?”

“I only have three rooms here that people can sleep in,” Xie Xianqing lied through his teeth, not blushing at all as he deceived the half-demon. 

“One for me, one for Chu Xuan, and the last one is for patients.”

Shen Zhou glanced at Chu Xuan. 

“He can go back to Small Hidden Peak to live.”

“That won’t do,” Xie Xianqing sighed dramatically. 

“Lu Buzhuo was seriously injured in the Sword Bestowal Valley and still hasn’t woken up. How could Chu Xuan be at ease? He’ll be staying here for this period. Isn’t that right?”

With that, he winked repeatedly at Chu Xuan.

Chu Xuan, who had only stayed for one night: “…”

He thought to himself, I only saved this half-demon for Senior Brother’s sake, yet this half-demon is so ungrateful. He actually dislikes Senior Brother and demands a change of bed.

He didn’t even think about why Senior Brother was so heavily injured.

He instantly felt it was not worth it for Lu Buzhuo and was about to tell Shen Zhou to move to the room he had temporarily used yesterday when he caught Xie Xianqing’s signal.

The words died on his lips. He swallowed them back, was silent for a moment, and said, “Yes.”

As soon as he spoke, he saw a flicker of regret on Xie Xianqing’s face.

Chu Xuan: “?”

Xie Xianqing had just remembered that yesterday, in his dazed and busy state, the room he had casually pointed out for Chu Xuan was separated from his own bedroom by only a single wall.

Coincidentally, there was a bed placed on each side of that wall.

Ever since that day Chu Xuan had said, “You called my name in your dream,” he had been somewhat suspicious, worried that Chu Xuan had heard more than he should have.

…And tonight they had to sleep with their beds right next to each other. This was going to kill him.

Xie Xianqing’s face turned green.

Shen Zhou was bewildered, but seeing that he was indeed in a difficult position, he said, “Forget it.”

Back in the room, Shen Zhou circled the bed twice, pushed the other person further in, and reluctantly lay down beside Lu Buzhuo. After a while, he turned his head, opened his eyes, and said coldly, “Don’t crowd me.”

Lu Buzhuo didn’t move an inch. His eyes were tightly shut, and even the wrinkles on the quilt covering him hadn’t changed.

The wolf ears twitched in confusion.

Shen Zhou wasn’t deliberately trying to find fault; he really did feel like he was being pushed. He stared warily at the man surnamed Lu for a moment, confirmed he was still unconscious, and lay back down.

Not long after, he felt himself being pushed again, and then a kiss was planted on his forehead.

Shen Zhou: “??????”

He was so shocked he nearly shoved Lu Buzhuo off the bed. After a moment, he suddenly remembered something and turned back to his own spiritual altar.

His front foot had just stepped in when his back foot was kissed on the lips.

Before he could even be shocked, he heard someone muttering in his ear, “Little Black, tell me, when will Xie Xianqing realize I was left behind in the Sword Bestowal Valley? If he never comes, we’ll just have to depend on each other.”

With that, he planted another loud kiss. 

“Why are your feathers so soft? A little softer than wolf ears.”

Shen Zhou: “… …”

He finally understood where these inexplicable sensations were coming from.

The myna bird he had given to Lu Buzhuo had, for some reason, suddenly become psychically linked with his own soul. It wasn’t very obvious outside the spiritual altar, but once he returned, it was endless harassment.

…

This was killing him.

Over there, the kissing continued unabated. One moment pinching the wings, the next pinching the beak, looking very idle.

But there really was nothing else to do. His soul had been thrown outside; it was a blessing he wasn’t dead, so how could he dare to run around?

Shen Zhou didn’t even want to sleep next to Lu Buzhuo, so naturally, he didn’t want to go pick up some soul. He wished the man surnamed Lu would never bother him again for the rest of his life.

Besides, the Sword Bestowal Valley sounded like a place that was not easy to enter, he mused. He’d just let Lu Buzhuo’s favorite, dear junior brother Chu Xuan go save him.

So he left the spiritual altar, pretending nothing had happened, and continued to sleep and recuperate.

Before leaving, he parked his soul in a tree hollow and covered it with some branches and leaves, trying to reduce the effect of the psychic link.

It actually worked a little.

Shen Zhou was instantly satisfied and shifted into a comfortable position to sleep.

Not long after he closed his eyes, he suddenly felt himself being turned over and his butt being poked.

Shen Zhou: “!!!!!!!!!!”