Chapter 25: Don’t Drag Others Into It

On the main street, one figure in azure, one in white, stood squared off face to face.

Yan Su held his silence a long moment, then said, “Return to Cang Manor at once. Take that robe back from the stranger and burn it. Then, in high spirits, buy me new clothes and embroider them with flowers as a gift.”

Zhuoyu: “?”

Yan Su said evenly, “That would be an impossible dream.”

Zhuoyu: “…”

Uh-oh, Zhuoyu thought. He’s trying to make me laugh.

Compared to Zhuoyu’s tried-and-true “but it hurts” method of making peace, Yan Su’s version took a far more winding road.

Zhuoyu’s face went rigid, and he gave a cold laugh. “Whichever way, enjoy dreaming by yourself. Commander Yan, go off and do your Secluded Cultivation in peace—and stop following me.”

Zhuoyu turned on his heel and walked.

But a full street later, Yan Su was still haunting his wake like a persistent ghost.

Were this before, Zhuoyu would likely have ridden the donkey down the slope already and made up with his Senior Brother as if nothing happened. But having brushed past death’s door this time, he looked back carefully at what Yan Su had said—and couldn’t deny it held reason.

For fifteen years he had leaned on Yan Su too much, as if any catastrophe could be solved with a single cry of “Senior Brother.” Only children needed coaxing. If he stayed muddled and childish forever, sheltered at every turn by his sect, how would that be any different from the useless good-for-nothing of years past?

Zhuoyu wanted to lay it all out. He looked back. “Senior Brother, what is it you actually want?”

Yan Su had noticed Zhuoyu no longer clung to him as before. He opened his mouth—then the words changed on his tongue. “After what happened, Shizun has been beside himself. Send him a Jade Slip and let him know you’re safe.”

Zhuoyu nodded. “All right, I know.”

“Do you have a Jade Slip on you?”

Zhuoyu, fearing Shizun would track his whereabouts, had left it at Xuanxu Residence when he went out. He coughed drily. “No rush, I…”

Yan Su stepped forward and revealed a Floating Jade Mountain Disciple Seal in his palm, gazing at him with grave, heavy eyes. “When I left, Shizun was already showing faint signs of Qi Deviation.”

Zhuoyu went still.

Yan Su said, “Back then, when Shizun fell to his demons and slaughtered Gengwu Province, he was gravely wounded, his Sea of Consciousness damaged. All these years he has rested and taken medicine. With worry this heavy now, I fear…”

Zhuoyu had meant to put it off a little longer, but at those few short words his tears nearly spilled. “Fine, fine, fine. Thank you for the trouble, Senior Brother.”

Yan Su’s brow knotted. He’d gotten exactly what he wanted—yet at the words “thank you for the trouble,” something in his chest quietly stuck.

The Disciple Seal was not to be used in the middle of a street, so Zhuoyu and Yan Su returned together to Cang Manor, declining the offer to lodge at the Demon Suppression Bureau. “Divine Physician Cang Zhou is kind and gentle. He’s agreed to let us stay a few days.”

Yan Su: “We?”

“Yes—me and Lu Qi. Don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he’s weak as water; probably the teleportation artifact’s doing. Divine Physician Cang is treating him now; he may need medicine for a few more days.” Zhuoyu found a pavilion and sat. “Let’s do it here.”

Yan Su’s manner stayed cool. He gave an “mm” and set the Disciple Seal on the stone table.

Ordinarily, Shizun could not be bothered with anyone and never answered even the Sect Master Seal; this time, the sigil had scarcely surfaced before Daoist Lord Tongxu’s phantom figure abruptly appeared before them.

He seemed to still be in the Life Lamp Hall, his face faintly limned by candlelight.

Before Zhuoyu could brace himself, Shizun’s expressionless face was already there; his skin tightened and he ducked behind Yan Su on instinct.

Yan Su bowed. “Shizun. Little Junior Brother is in Guping City now; his injuries are nothing serious.”

Daoist Lord Tongxu said nothing. He only looked at Zhuoyu.

Knowing full well the magnitude of the trouble he’d caused, Zhuoyu peeked his head out timorously from behind Yan Su’s forearm, wheedling in a small voice. “Shizun! Aiya, it seems this Disciple Seal couldn’t restore even one ten-thousandth of your radiance—I nearly failed to recognize you!”

Daoist Lord Tongxu did not smile.

Zhuoyu’s face crumpled and he dropped straight to his knees. “Shizun, please quench your anger. Wuyou knows he was wrong.”

Tongxu’s gaze followed him down. Only after a long moment did he seem to come back to himself, then stepped forward slowly and bent low. Knowing full well that illusory hands could never touch Lin Zhuoyu, he still extended trembling fingertips, yearning to stroke his face.

Zhuoyu looked up at him. “Shizun…”

Tongxu gazed at that face for a long while, fingertips sketching faintly over brow and eyes and features—and the first words out of him were not a rebuke, but something slow and soft.

“How did you get so thin?”

Zhuoyu went still.

In the moment he had cut down the Fox Demon, Zhuoyu’s heart had held nothing but exhilaration and satisfaction. But having fled back from death’s door, the care and love he had overlooked in that life-or-death instant now flooded his chest, winding his heart thread by thread into lingering dread.

If he had truly died on Lingshu Mountain—Shizun, his Senior Brothers, every soul on Floating Jade Mountain who loved and ached for him—how would they have grieved?

As a young child, Zhuoyu had heard that Daoist Lord Tongxu had many times wished to take Lin Chengbi as a disciple—but Lin Weishan would not allow it, and worn down at last, Tongxu had agreed that Chengbi could enter Floating Jade Mountain once he came of age.

Lin Chengbi had been half a month short of his coming-of-age when he died at Chaoping Marsh.

Zhuoyu’s eyes reddened in a flash. “Shizun, I really am all right now.”

Since the previous night, when Tongxu had sensed the dimmed Life Lamp in his arms blaze back to light—happily bobbing and drifting every which way—he had known the boy was safe. Seeing him now standing hale and hopping before him, Tongxu’s eyes closed briefly.

“Get up.”

Zhuoyu stood up obediently.

Tongxu said, “Tell me everything that happened at Lingshu Mountain. Nothing left out.”

Still wiping his tears, Zhuoyu paused at that, then ventured carefully, “It’s a long story—three days and three nights’ worth. Isn’t Shizun busy?”

Tongxu said, “Your master has all the time in the world.”

Zhuoyu: “…”

So Zhuoyu picked and chose his way through the sights of the road and the dashing feat of slaying a Great Demon with ease, capping it off with his own summary.

“I was wise and mighty, and no one swindled me into being a fool; I rescued a whole crowd of endlessly grateful commoners, and killed the Great Demon almost in passing. All in all, a very fruitful journey.”

Yan Su shot him a glance and took a half step forward.

Tongxu remained perfectly composed, nodding. “Mm. Worthy of being my disciple—cutting down a Spirit Solidification Great Demon while still at Origin Core. And since Linyuan tells me you’ve already reached Spirit Solidification, surely you’ll find it just as effortless to face your master.”

Daoist Lord Tongxu had long since reached Void Amalgamation; a full Spirit Refinement realm lay between him and Spirit Solidification. The meaning of those words was plain: he was going to string the boy up and thrash him.

Zhuoyu’s head ducked down in fright. “I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare!”

Tongxu’s gaze turned cold. “When you found the Fox Demon, why did you not wait for me or a Commander of the Demon Suppression Bureau? What exactly were you thinking, facing it alone?”

Zhuoyu dared not invent further. He said in a small voice, “I couldn’t get away.”

“Wasn’t there a teleportation artifact?”

“It was Lu Qi’s. It should have gone to his escape first.”

“Lin Zhuoyu!”

Shizun rarely used his full name. Zhuoyu knew the scolding was about to begin, steeled himself to endure it, and didn’t dare open his mouth once.

Yet Tongxu stared at him expressionless for a long moment, then said abruptly, “That Great Demon… had it been to Chaoping Marsh?”

“Mm.”

Tongxu slowly closed his eyes. “You truly…”

Seeing that Tongxu meant to continue the scolding, Yan Su cut in. “Shizun, Zhuoyu has only just recovered from his injuries…”

Tongxu had one more barb for Zhuoyu—and seeing the boy cried into such a state, his own heart ached for it. With Yan Su stepping into the line of fire, he turned the cold rebuke on him instead. “You arrived this morning. Why did you only find him now? Is this how a Commander of the Demon Suppression Bureau conducts business? He may be reckless, but are you a fool as well?!”

Yan Su was long accustomed to drawing the fire in Zhuoyu’s stead, and took the scolding meekly. “…Shizun’s rebuke is deserved.”

Zhuoyu, too, was used to hiding behind Yan Su—but on second thought something was off, and he hastily stepped forward. “Shizun can go on scolding me. Don’t drag others into it.”

Yan Su’s eyes went dark.

Others?

Since when had he become “others”?

Tongxu rubbed the space between his brows. Looking at the tear-tracks still fresh on Zhuoyu’s pitiful face, he could not bring himself to further rebukes. “Return to the sect. Immediately.”

Zhuoyu bobbed his head like a chick pecking rice. “Yes, yes, yes—I’ll just take one more loop around Lingshu Mountain and then head back.”

Tongxu said coldly, “Your master said immediately.”

Zhuoyu’s lips pursed. “But I only left the sect a few days ago…”

Tongxu’s eyes shifted—Zhuoyu shrank back a step in fright and said in a small voice, “Senior Brother, didn’t you say you’d come with me to Lingshu Mountain? Say something.”

Yan Su’s face was blank. “Am I not ‘others’?”

Zhuoyu didn’t follow, staring at him blankly. “What?”

Only after the words were out did Yan Su register them. He pressed his thin lips together. “Shizun. Tomorrow I will accompany Zhuoyu into Lingshu Mountain. If he suffers so much as another scratch, this disciple will take his own life in atonement.”

Tongxu looked at him coldly, then let his gaze drop once more to Zhuoyu’s pleading, upturned face. At last he said, “If you are not back at the sect by the hour of Zi tomorrow night, your master will come in person.”

Zhuoyu nodded frantically. “Shizun is wise! Long live, long live, ten thousand times long live!”

Daoist Lord Tongxu swept out with a flick of his sleeve.

Zhuoyu saw his Shizun off with utmost ceremony, then released a great sigh of relief. “Thank you, Eldest Senior Brother.”

In their daily dealings, however cold Yan Su’s temperament, Zhuoyu could always ignore it entirely and climb right over him. Yet today he had thanked the man twice in a single day.

Yan Su gave a short laugh.

But the depths of his eyes were dark and cold, holding no mirth at all.

Zhuoyu, oblivious to the chill, rattled on. “Early tomorrow I’ll come find you at the Demon Suppression Bureau. There must be more Great Demons in Lingshu Mountain. The demon that slaughtered Lu Qi’s family habitually used the Bewitchment Art—but that Fox Demon never once used it against me. It can’t have been him.”

Yan Su said, “I promised Shizun I would keep you safe. I will not leave your side half a step.”

“This place is perfectly safe under Divine Physician Cang Zhou. What danger could there be?” Zhuoyu made to leave—and Yan Su stuck to him like a ghost’s own shadow.

Zhuoyu pointed at him. “Stay!”

Yan Su wielded the chicken feather like a commander’s tally. “Shizun told me to look after you.”

But Zhuoyu said, “I’ve already come of age, though. I can’t need looking after the way I did as a child.”

Yan Su went rigid.

Those were his own words—the very ones he had spoken when he forced Zhuoyu to move out of Warm Spring Peak.

Zhuoyu set the Disciple Seal on the table and walked away.

This time, Yan Su did not chase. His tall figure looked lonelier still against the setting sun.

The main courtyard of Cang Manor had fallen to the fox; the rabbit seethed in silence.

Zhuoyu had won himself a day’s reprieve and strolled into the courtyard in excellent spirits.

After a full day’s upheaval, the sun had sunk and darkness fallen. A lamp burned in the room; two silhouettes could faintly be seen within—Divine Physician Cang Zhou and Lu Qi, talking. Before Zhuoyu even reached the door, the murmur of their voices reached him.

“…One month left… I suggest you make your peace with it.”

“Don’t tell him.”

Zhuoyu caught exactly that trailing end, and pushed the door open, puzzled. “What month? Don’t tell who what?”

By candlelight, Qingshan Qi’s face was drained of all color. Zhuoyu’s sudden return startled him; guiltily he looked away and rose. “Elder Brother is back. Finished with your business?”

“Finished.” Zhuoyu asked, curious. “Why do you look like a thief caught red-handed? What happened?”

Cang Zhou was just drawing breath to say something furious—”He—!”—when Qingshan Qi cut him off in a low voice. “My thanks to Divine Physician Cang for today. I’m feeling unwell, so I won’t see you out.”

Cang Zhou glared at him. “I can’t be bothered with you. Suffer on your own, then.” With that, he stormed off.

Zhuoyu was more baffled than ever—gentle as Divine Physician Cang was, he’d actually flared up this badly. “What did he mean by that? What’s this ‘suffer on your own’?”

A smile flickered across Qingshan Qi’s pale face. “Nothing. He simply found his own medicine too bitter, and the Divine Physician flew into a temper… Has Elder Brother had dinner? Let me go and—” Two steps in, his foot caught, and he collapsed, feeble.

Zhuoyu hadn’t expected such frailty, and caught him at once. “Hey, hey! How are you this weak since coming back from Lingshu Mountain? Did those few Teleportation Talismans really hurt you that badly?”

Even as he spoke, he reached to take Qingshan Qi’s pulse.

Qingshan Qi yanked his hand back. “I’m f-fine… cough, cough, cough!“

He clapped a hand over his lips and coughed violently; Zhuoyu hurried to soothe his breathing, and in a careless sweep of his peripheral vision, glimpsed what seemed a smear of red between Qingshan Qi’s fingers.

Zhuoyu startled. “What’s this? Are you coughing blood?”

Frail as Qingshan Qi looked, his claws clamped over his lips with real strength, refusing to let Zhuoyu examine him.

Zhuoyu’s face darkened slightly. “Let me see.”

Qingshan Qi went rigid—and Zhuoyu seized the opening, gripping his wrist and forcing his hand open. The sight stabbed at his eyes at once.

Between those slender fingers: blood, all of it freshly coughed up.