He Mu’s lips gradually smoothed out. His gaze darkened slightly, and the expression on his face was hidden beneath the silver face mask, making it indistinguishable.
Wenren Sheng’s sword remained steady, pressed tightly against He Mu’s neck without using even an ounce more force. It didn’t draw so much as a thread of blood.
“Why do you know Qianxiang?” Wenren Sheng gazed at him, his eyes deep. “How did you kill it?”
He Mu: “…………”
Wenren Sheng didn’t urge him. He simply held the sword in place, motionless.
Just moments ago, when he severed Qianxiang’s head, he heard two voices.
One asked if he had heard his own dao heart.
The other called him “Shengsheng” and said he had done well.
The former was his own inner voice, the dao heart he comprehended in that instant.
The latter belonged to Murong He. Though a curse had been cast upon it, blurring the voice’s appearance in his memory, Wenren Sheng recognized those two words the moment they reached his ears.
In this world, aside from Wenren Jing, only one person called him that way.
“You are…”
Even as the name reached his lips, Wenren Sheng’s voice trembled ever so faintly.
“He Mu, aren’t you?”
He Mu remained silent.
The two stood facing each other before the Buddhist altar, snowflakes drifting down in the space between them. A few landed on the blue butterfly pattern of Heavenly Heart, melting swiftly into droplets of water.
Moments later, He Mu raised his hand and removed his silver face mask.
“…It’s me.”
The curse on his face lifted, and his voice returned to normal.
Though he had mentally prepared himself and guessed most of the truth, Wenren Sheng’s breathing still grew disordered the moment he saw that face.
This felt utterly different from any illusion. He deeply sensed his soul quivering faintly. The sword in his hand lost its steadiness, accidentally slicing a streak of dark red blood across He Mu’s neck.
It really was the Mountain God. He had returned.
Guilt flickered in the depths of He Mu’s eyes. He flung aside the face mask, heedless of Heavenly Heart’s sharp blade, and pressed forward step by step against Wenren Sheng’s sword.
“Shengsheng…”
Wenren Sheng’s lips parted slightly as he exhaled short bursts of white breath. With each step He Mu took forward, he instinctively retreated one, as if trying to keep their distance within a range he could bear.
He wasn’t ready yet.
He had made up his mind: from then on, he would never meet this person again—whether as family or lover, he wanted no further ties.
Yet He Mu insisted on approaching, disregarding his resistance and reluctance. He followed step by step, his expression unchanged, as if he had the patience to wait until Wenren Sheng had nowhere left to retreat.
Wenren Sheng swallowed hard. He lowered his gaze slightly to avoid He Mu’s eyes, gripping the sword hilt tightly with both hands and forcing himself not to tremble.
“Don’t come any closer.”
His eyes were red-rimmed, his voice thick with moisture.
“Please… don’t come any closer…”
Clang.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Wenren Sheng’s lower back bumped against the Buddhist altar behind him. Red candles and incense burners toppled across the table.
There was no retreat left.
He braced one hand against the altar, staring at He Mu in sheer terror. The sword in his grip shook even more violently.
Blood from He Mu’s neck had already trickled down the blade, staining his knuckles and even seeping into his sleeve.
Yet He Mu did not stop.
He closed in recklessly until no space remained between them.
His hand slowly covered the back of Wenren Sheng’s, trapping himself in his embrace.
“Shengsheng,”
He Mu lowered his head to gaze at Wenren Sheng. He nudged his knee between Wenren Sheng’s legs, his palm tightening gradually to pin Wenren Sheng fully against the Buddhist altar.
“I’ve been looking for you for so long.”
Wenren Sheng’s chest rose and fell shallowly. Heavenly Heart slipped from his grasp, replaced by He Mu’s shoulder pressing against his wrist.
He couldn’t escape.
He had to face it.
Wenren Sheng had only dared a fleeting glance at He Mu before, but now he had no choice but to confront the man he had thought of day and night.
He Mu was an immortal who had lived for centuries; his appearance remained unchanged from before. The only difference from two years ago was the mark between his brows.
The trace lingered, but it had lost its color, dull and faded at his brow.
Wenren Sheng’s eyes widened slightly.
“Your divine graven…”
“I don’t want it anymore,” He Mu murmured, leaning his head against Wenren Sheng’s shoulder. “I only want you, Shengsheng. I’m no longer cultivating the Emotionless Dao.”
Didn’t want it—what did that mean?
“You…” Wenren Sheng hesitated. “Your divine graven… is it gone?”
He Mu said softly, “It’s gone. Now I’m just like you—a sword cultivator who hasn’t ascended.”
Wenren Sheng’s heart sank. His fingers curled instinctively.
He Mu was no longer the Mountain God?
Was it because of him—because he had shaken He Mu’s dao heart, making it impossible for him to continue the Emotionless Dao?
He Mu seemed to guess his thoughts and hurriedly explained, “It’s not your fault. I didn’t think it through myself. Now I have. I can’t accept immortality without you, Shengsheng. I—”
“Wait!”
Wenren Sheng quickly raised a hand to cut him off.
“I don’t want to hear it. Don’t tell me!”
He Mu released his tight hold on Wenren Sheng’s hands and instead cradled his cheeks, his tone growing urgent. “You won’t listen anymore? I want to explain, Shengsheng. It’s not what you think.”
Before He Mu could finish, Wenren Sheng shook his head desperately, burying his face into He Mu’s palms.
“Give me some time. I know it’s not your fault, but I can’t yet—”
He choked up.
“I still can’t accept the Mountain God’s betrayal. I don’t know how to face you. I haven’t figured it out. Don’t push me, please…”
He Mu grew anxious upon hearing this. “I didn’t betray you, Shengsheng. I only—”
“You left me when I needed you most,”
Wenren Sheng interrupted, tears welling in his eyes.
“Isn’t… that betrayal?”
He Mu’s pupils contracted. A wet sensation soon spread across his palms.
He looked down to see tears spilling from Wenren Sheng’s eyes, sliding down his pale cheeks, past the two beauty marks, and soaking straight into He Mu’s hands.
He cried so quietly that even his sobs were muffled.
He Mu felt at a rare loss. He hastily wiped Wenren Sheng’s tears and tried to pull him into an embrace, only to be pushed back at the shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Mountain God.” His voice carried a hoarse sob. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. Let me calm down…”
He Mu: “……”
With Wenren Sheng saying this, He Mu had no choice but to release him, his face etched with worry.
He stepped back a few paces and let out a soft sigh.
He had planned to reveal the truth after Wenren Sheng saw Wenren Jing’s soul, but he hadn’t expected to fall into Siming’s ambush in this earth temple, exposing his identity prematurely.
Wenren Sheng had just endured a painful path to enlightenment, slaying his kin-killing enemy with his own hands. Suddenly reuniting with him after two years apart—such a reaction was only natural.
He needed to give Wenren Sheng time.
Having sorted his thoughts, He Mu picked up Heavenly Heart from the ground, sheathed it for Wenren Sheng, and hung it at his waist. He gently stroked his hair.
In a tone used to coax a child, he said softly, “Don’t rush, Shengsheng. I’ll stay right here. Once you’ve thought it through, I’ll take you to find the clan leader, alright?”
Wenren Sheng hadn’t felt much before, but He Mu’s touch to his hair nearly brought fresh tears.
He puffed his cheeks to hold them back, a low “mm” escaping his throat.
True to his word, over the next hour, He Mu did not press Wenren Sheng to hear explanations about the past.
Wenren Sheng crouched beneath the mud statue of the Bodhisattva, his tail limp and dusty on the ground, blanketed in snow. He didn’t move an inch.
He had been thinking for a while now.
Heavenly Heart hovered restlessly nearby, as if anxious to help him resolve his worries.
Wenren Sheng felt sorry for this divine weapon. It had just gained sentience, yet here he was, setting it aside.
But he truly had no mood for it. He didn’t know how to proceed.
To see the clan leader’s soul, he would undoubtedly need to travel with He Mu. Yet his heart twisted uncomfortably at the thought—he didn’t want to be with He Mu at all.
It wasn’t dislike or annoyance or rejection. He simply didn’t want to be together, felt they shouldn’t meet, shouldn’t pretend nothing had happened.
Wenren Sheng wasn’t ready to accept it all.
He had slain Qianxiang with his own hand, shredding its soul so it could never reincarnate, no matter where it fled. That strike had been for his past self.
But what about He Mu?
He still couldn’t let go of He Mu’s departure.
Just like back then, when he didn’t understand why the clan leader had suddenly left with the clan, abandoning him alone on Fragrant Ze Mountain.
He could have a temper too. Being abandoned made him unhappy, made him sad. Even knowing later that their departure was unavoidable, those emotions lingered unresolved in his heart, instinctively driving him to flee.
Wenren Sheng transformed Heavenly Heart back into its dagger form and idly scratched at the ground.
“I don’t want to talk to him,” he muttered. “I’ll only say five sentences, and none can exceed five words…”
He Mu’s hearing was sharp. Though he had deliberately stood farther away, he still caught the words.
Hugging his sword, he gazed at Wenren Sheng with worry.
From the boy’s words, it seemed he still had no intention of much contact.
He Mu usually enjoyed teasing Wenren Sheng, but forcing him to accept under these circumstances would be too much.
Tricky.
Wenren Sheng muttered to himself in place for a while before finally shaking the melted snow from his tail and rustling to his feet.
Seeing this, He Mu straightened up at once and walked to Wenren Sheng’s side. Tentatively, he asked, “Shengsheng, have you thought it over?”
Wenren Sheng glanced at him and silently stepped back, deliberately turning aside to avoid his gaze.
His lips still tugged downward, his voice muffled.
“Keep your distance…”
He had almost called him “Mountain God,” but then remembered he was no longer an immortal— that title no longer fit.
After hesitating, Wenren Sheng repeated softly:
“Keep your distance, Brother.”
