Chapter 11: Madness

Lin Zhuoyu jogged out of Deer Jade Terrace.

The dao attendants sweeping the mountain steps saw him and cried joyfully, “Little Senior Brother is awake! Is your wound better?… Hey, slow down! Don’t trip!”

“Much better!”

Lin Zhuoyu tore past in a streak, the wind of his passage sweeping the peach blossoms everywhere; when they settled again, they had gathered into a single pile.

Nine Winters Cliff was remote, but fortunately Lin Zhuoyu could fly on a sword. Riding Eldest Senior Brother’s blade, he was soon skimming over the countless peaks of Floating Jade Mountain to the far north.

The robes Lin Zhuoyu had scrounged from Shizun could withstand the cold, but the chill of Nine Winters Cliff seeped through everything, so he added a heavy cloak before jogging up.

Yan Su cultivated the Heart-Purifying Dao. In his youth his Dao Heart had been unstable, and he had often come to Nine Winters Cliff to train—rarely subjecting himself to this suffering again after his Dao Heart stabilized upon reaching the Spirit Solidification Realm.

Lin Zhuoyu remembered where the Eldest Senior Brother’s usual Cave of Reflection was and made his way up, familiar with the path.

Nine Winters Cliff was colder than it had been years ago; even in cultivator’s robes he was hopping from the freeze. Lin Zhuoyu’s breath came out in clouds of white as he tilted his head up to look at the snow plums blooming defiantly outside the cave abode. After a moment’s thought, he reached up and picked the prettiest branch.

He had gone into danger alone and come back wounded—Senior Brother must have been scared half to death.

Clutching the flower, Lin Zhuoyu climbed the snow-covered steps, mulling over how he would coax his Senior Brother when he got there.

The cave where Yan Su usually stayed was warded with a barrier. Lin Zhuoyu flicked out a thread of spiritual power and passed into it without the slightest resistance.

Having spent ages choosing his words, Lin Zhuoyu was just about to call out when a thick reek of blood struck him in the face.

His expression changed and he darted forward: “Senior Brother!”

The cave abode was coated year-round in thick frost. Yan Su sat at the edge of the towering snow cliff, eyes shut, breathing ragged—and looking closely, a thread of crimson trailed from the corner of his lips.

At the words “Senior Brother,” the man’s tall frame went suddenly rigid; an invisible crimson baleful aura coiled around him.

When had Lin Zhuoyu ever seen the Eldest Senior Brother in such a state? Seeing him bristling with baleful aura, he dared not approach, fearing that the distraction would drive him into Qi Deviation.

The “Lin Zhuoyu” congealed from baleful aura stood half-undressed in the world of ice and snow, like a sprite of the snow, clinging to him intimately, one sentence after another, bewitching.

“Senior Brother, save me!

“Senior Brother, Shizun gave me the courtesy name ‘Wuyou’—wishing me a life smooth and free of care. Why did you name your sword ‘Wuyou’?

“Senior Brother, you clearly have me in your heart—why cultivate the Heart-Purifying Dao? Abandon your Great Dao and you can have me. Wouldn’t that be better?”

Blood overflowed from the corner of Yan Su’s lips; he could barely control his emotions. Violent spiritual power blasted out in all directions.

“Senior Brother—!”

Only when a thread of clear coolness sank into his brow, forcibly dispelling the illusion that had entangled him for two days, did it stop.

Yan Su’s soul was unsteady as he slowly opened his eyes.

The instant his vision focused, he thought he was still in the illusion.

Lin Zhuoyu knelt on one knee before him, his sigil-carved snow-white robes and heavy cloak layered over the snow. Eyes gently closed, he formed the Heart-Purifying Mantra, two fingers pressed to Yan Su’s brow, like a compassionate deity with lowered lashes.

All around them lay the scars of rampaging spiritual power.

A branch of snow plum had been shattered by the force, scattered in disarray across the snow.

Lin Zhuoyu withdrew his power and, seeing Yan Su come back to himself, let out a breath. “You scared me half to death. How did you nearly fall into Qi Deviation out of nowhere? Here, take this Spirit Pill first… Mmph!”

Yan Su’s long arm suddenly shot out and swept the Lin Zhuoyu standing inches away into his embrace, so hard the man was squeezed breathless.

“Zhu… yu…”

Lin Zhuoyu blinked. Feeling Yan Su’s frantic heartbeat and gasping breaths, he reached up to wrap his arms around that lean waist, soothing softly, “It’s me, Senior Brother. I’m here.”

Yan Su’s grip was powerful, as if he wanted to crush Lin Zhuoyu into him, to merge them into one.

The arms locked around the small of Lin Zhuoyu’s back pulled at the not-yet-healed wound. He bore it as best he could, but his breath still hitched.

At that tiny difference, the muddle-headed Yan Su abruptly came clear and released him.

“Zhuoyu?”

Lin Zhuoyu gave a decorative dry cough and waited, with due modesty, for his Senior Brother to praise his timely rescue.

That instant of vulnerability flashed and vanished. Once his sanity returned and he saw the spirit-power-scored gouges all around, Yan Su’s face darkened and darkened. “Why are you here?”

Far from the praise he’d awaited, Lin Zhuoyu was being blamed instead. Malice born of desperation rose within him, and he snapped, “If I weren’t worried about you, who’d come to this frozen hellhole by choice? Besides, if I hadn’t come, you’d have fallen into Qi Deviation and shattered your Dao Heart already. Never mind thanking me—you interrogate me! What are you being fierce for?”

Yan Su said coldly, “You knew I was in Qi Deviation and still dared approach? Weren’t you afraid I’d go mad and cut you down with a sword?”

“The Heart-Purifying Dao is prone to an unstable Dao Heart—that’s normal. How is it as terrifying as your ‘madness’?”

“Lin Zhuoyu—!”

Lin Zhuoyu had come, conscience-stricken over hiding the Violet Fox affair, intending to apologize—never expecting a screaming fight within two sentences. Good-tempered as he was, he never wronged himself; he shot to his feet in fury. “Fine, fine, fine! It was my mistake to come! Go enjoy your Heart-Purifying Dao!”

He flung his sleeve to leave.

Yan Su’s hand shot out instinctively and caught Lin Zhuoyu’s wrist.

Lin Zhuoyu: “Let go!”

The blood on Yan Su’s lips was still fresh, but the baleful aura had withdrawn into his sea of consciousness. A long while passed before he exhaled a breath tinged with blood.

“I’m sorry…”

Lin Zhuoyu cupped a hand to his ear. “What was that, Commander Yan? I didn’t hear. Louder, please!”

Yan Su fell silent again.

Lin Zhuoyu bent down toward him, black hair sweeping across Yan Su’s cheek. “Hmm? Hmm-hmm? Say it.”

Lin Zhuoyu’s presence was overwhelming—that gentle, clear voice, the faint fragrance of peach blossoms in his breath—like unseen hands slipping into Yan Su’s sea of consciousness and churning his thoughts.

Along with it came the faint scent of medicine and blood.

Yan Su belatedly realized his own roughness. “Does your wound still hurt?”

Lin Zhuoyu took this as his Senior Brother’s signal for making up, magnanimously accepted the olive branch, and muttered, “It was mostly better, but just now you hugged so fiercely that my back is killing me. Senior Brother, check whether the wound tore open.”

Yan Su’s brow knitted. At last abandoning his forced cultivation, he rose and flew Lin Zhuoyu back to Warm Spring Peak on his sword.

Lin Zhuoyu was confident there was no one he couldn’t coax. Triumphant, he sat on the daybed, undressing as he chattered, “I heard from Shizun that the whole Demon Suppression Bureau is spreading the legend of how I single-handedly lured out the fox clan and netted them all. Once my wound heals, I’ll beg Shizun to let me join the Bureau—then Senior Brother and I can fight side by side.”

Yan Su changed into fresh robes and carried the wound medicine sent from Deer Jade Terrace into the inner chamber.

When he saw the scene on the daybed, the hand gripping the serving tray suddenly tightened.

Lin Zhuoyu had already shed his wide robe, the azure garments piled in layers on the daybed, setting off a slender waist, jade-white and dazzling. Higher up, a slanting scar crawled over his shoulder blade.

His nape long and slender, he gathered his loose black hair up in one hand, letting it fall carelessly over his shoulder, a few strands spilling messily down his back. As he turned slightly, the line of his waist drew taut. “Senior Brother, are you even listening to me?”

Yan Su looked away, eyes lowered. “I heard. You’re daydreaming.”

“How is it daydreaming?” Lin Zhuoyu obediently kept his back to him, discontented. “Doesn’t Senior Brother want to stay with me always?”

Yan Su’s hand stiffened.

Usually it was Lin Zhuoyu who chattered through their time together while Yan Su rarely spoke. Yet this time, unprompted, he said, “You and I are not Dao Companions. Why should we always be together?”

Lin Zhuoyu turned back, puzzled. “Huh? I mean fighting demons together at the Demon Suppression Bureau.”

Yan Su: “…”

Lin Zhuoyu frowned, turning to look at him. “Senior Brother, what’s wrong with you today? Why is your Dao Heart unstable again? Have you gone to ask Shizun about it?”

Yan Su didn’t meet his eyes. Two fingers took his chin and turned his head forward as he picked up the ointment. “Don’t move.”

Lin Zhuoyu kept chattering, back to him. “I’ve read many books on the Heart-Purifying Dao. They say if your Dao Heart is unstable, ascending the Great Dao becomes twice the effort for half the result. Senior Brother’s cultivation hasn’t been easy… Mm, was it the fox fire in Linchuan City that did it? What desire did the fox fire actually draw out of you, Senior Brother?”

Yan Su’s ointment-tipped finger smoothed across his back.

Lin Zhuoyu: “Hss—wrong spot. Senior Brother, did you even aim?”

Behind him, Yan Su seemed to exhale; the next pass of his fingers landed precisely on the wound.

Lin Zhuoyu tried to turn again and was pressed back down. “Senior Brother, what exactly did you see? Come on, please, tell me.”

Yan Su’s tone was flat. “I saw you turning the tables, leaving with the Violet Fox, braving danger alone, gravely wounded and unconscious for three days.”

Lin Zhuoyu shut his mouth at once.

But he couldn’t stay meek for long before retorting, “But Senior Brother, I was fully confident dealing with that Violet Fox.”

Senior Brother…

Senior Brother, Senior Brother…

Lin Zhuoyu was in the habit of prefacing every sentence with “Senior Brother.” Ordinary as it sounded, to Yan Su now it was like a death knell hammering at his fractured Dao Heart.

Yan Su’s face was expressionless; his fingertip drew lightly along the edge of the wound. The icy touch made Lin Zhuoyu shudder, nearly bristling like a startled cat. “Mm. This wound can testify for you.”

Lin Zhuoyu argued righteously, “That was an accident. Hasn’t Senior Brother been wounded at the Demon Suppression Bureau too?”

Yan Su: “No.”

Lin Zhuoyu choked—then jabbed viciously at the scar. “Then why did you go spitting up blood today, huh?”

Yan Su went quiet.

Lin Zhuoyu won the round, eyebrow arching in triumph.

Ointment applied, Yan Su dressed Lin Zhuoyu in his robes and turned without a backward glance to wash his hands, as if a moment longer and the ointment on his fingertips might burst into flame.

Lin Zhuoyu, in excellent spirits, hummed a little tune as he rose from the daybed. “Senior Brother, once I’m healed I want to go out and gain some experience. Will you come with me?”

Though Subtle Probing had failed, in the instant before he withdrew, Lin Zhuoyu had accidentally caught a few words from the Violet Fox’s memory.

“Lingshu.”

In all the vast Three Realms, only one place bore the name “Lingshu”—Lingshu Mountain in Eastern Province.

Yan Su kept his head bent over the washing, fingertips scrubbed red. “Get Shizun’s permission first.”

“Great! It’s settled then!”

Delighted, Lin Zhuoyu bounced over to Yan Su, wanting to snuggle up to his Senior Brother as always—but before he could get close, Yan Su instinctively stepped back two paces.

Lin Zhuoyu blinked. “Senior Brother?”

Yan Su didn’t look at him, only said, “Go back and rest.”

Lin Zhuoyu thought nothing of it. “Okay.”

With that, he plopped down familiarly on the soft daybed, preparing to put down roots at Warm Spring Peak as usual.

“Zhuoyu.” Yan Su called.

“Hm?”

Yan Su said, “Go back to your own quarters.”

Lin Zhuoyu coughed and, guiltily, set down the Demon Suppression Bureau Archives he’d been holding. “Fine, fine, I won’t touch your things.”

“No.”

Lin Zhuoyu propped his chin on his hand and looked at him, eyes lazy. A gentle, cool face with not a trace of deliberate allure—and yet somehow bewitching.

And he didn’t even know it, still asking, “If not that, then what do you mean?”

Yan Su stood in an inner chamber filled with traces of Lin Zhuoyu, gazing sideways at the tangle of peach blossoms outside. A long silence—then at last he spoke.

“It isn’t convenient, you being here. Move out of Warm Spring Peak.”