Chapter 114: Crimson Flowers Hidden in White Bones (14)
Bai Chunsheng’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. He glared with reddened eyes at the man who bore a certain resemblance to Yan Jingqiu, yet whose temperament was far crueler.
The man let out a faint, mocking smile. “Don’t believe me?”
“If you don’t believe me, go ask around—see if what I’m saying is true,” he said. “Do you even know how Yan Jingqiu died? He was trapped within his own Life-and-Death Realm.”
“My jade figurine didn’t lie. Even if I hadn’t acted, he would have died—he only had half a month left anyway.”
“Time passes like a fleeting horse; do you know how long you slept? From the Void Realm to the Western Region, you slept a full seven days, and no calling could wake you.”
The man’s smile spread wider: “If Yan Jingqiu doesn’t wake from the Life-and-Death Realm, he will truly, utterly, die.”
He clicked his tongue. “I heard you dislike him most of all. Shouldn’t you be overjoyed now that you hear he’s about to die? Why the hurry? Eagerly waiting for him to die?”
Bai Chunsheng shouted back, “Who said I don’t like him? He’s the one I like the most!”
“Is that so?” The man chuckled again. “Had you told him sooner, perhaps none of this would have happened. What a pity, such a pity. From now on, life and death will separate you. How marvelous… how marvelous. Ha ha.”
“Who exactly are you?!” Bai Chunsheng exclaimed, first startled, then raising his voice to demand an answer.
Rationally, Bai Chunsheng thought this person must be Ye Jingxing, the elder referred to by the hidden hermit of Penglai, but perhaps because he looked so much like Yan Jingqiu, Bai Chunsheng couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity.
The man smiled. “Take your time guessing.”
Bai Chunsheng gritted his teeth. “Even if you don’t say it, I know. It was you who killed Immortal Miaoyan of Penglai Island, Lord Cuixia of Cuiwei Palace, Loose Cultivator Liaoji, and Daoist Changping—and framed Yan Jingqiu, forcing him to shoulder all these crimes, leaving him trapped in such a predicament!”
“Ha ha,” the man laughed. “Exactly. What can you do to me? Heh heh.”
“You!” Bai Chunsheng pointed at him, nearly speechless.
From the other side of the door came a creaking sound, and an old monk in robes entered. He first bowed to the stranger sitting at the table: “Yan Clan Ancestor.”
Hearing this, Bai Chunsheng was stunned and looked at him in shock.
He vaguely remembered that Yan Jianhang, the ancestor of the Yan Clan, had been a tall, thin, somber old man, always carrying a strong scent of flowers and wine.
Yan Jianhang stood up: “You returned quite quickly.”
Bai Chunsheng recognized this old monk as the abbot of Huayan Temple. His expression was calm and serene. “I promised the young benefactor. Why did you need to lead me away?”
Yan Jianhang held his wine and stepped outside. “Just testing.”
The abbot replied, “How could I compare to the world’s one-and-only Supreme Lord Dingguang?”
“That’s already a thing of the past,” Yan Jianhang said, glancing at the abbot without changing his expression. Before leaving, he corrected Bai Chunsheng: “I did kill many, but Miaoyan Zhenren was not by my hand. He drank the poisoned wine himself.”
“Miaoyan Zhenren and Bai Jianghan once had a daughter a thousand years ago. Sadly, during the war between immortals and demons, she was gravely injured and died. Bai Jianghan never let go of this matter. She believed Miaoyan Zhenren could have saved her but did not. He only glanced at her and said fate was over, her life as it should be. They debated once over the Dao and parted unhappily.”
“Bai Jianghan still had several years of life, but she deliberately chose to die undergoing tribulation, showing Miaoyan Zhenren she never forgot this matter to her dying day.”
Yan Jianhang pushed the door open and left.
After Yan Jianhang departed, Bai Chunsheng’s heart remained unsettled for a long time. He had considered many possible masterminds, but Yan Jianhang had never been one of them.
The entire cultivation world knew that his days were numbered.
It was precisely because his days were numbered.
To become a Vulnerable was to live as long as Heaven and Earth; no wonder…
Now was not the time for Bai Chunsheng to dwell on such thoughts. He hurriedly turned to the abbot: “Abbot! Do you know where Yan Jingqiu is right now?”
If Yan Jianhang was only one step away from Dao completion, then Yan Jingqiu was close as well—only needing to slay him to verify his Dao. Whoever returned would be the real Yan Jingqiu.
The abbot said, “His soul is trapped in the Life-and-Death Realm.”
“No, I don’t mean that. Sigh.” Bai Chunsheng let out a long sigh. “I mean the amnesiac Yan Jingqiu, Bo Yan. Where is he now?”
The abbot replied, “Perhaps in the southern part of the Western Desert. I heard that today, among the Ten Great Sects, nine major sects, eight great families, and seventeen realms have united to hunt him down. Lord Dingguang can be reckless, but he doesn’t lie.”
Hearing this, Bai Chunsheng’s legs went weak. He collapsed backward, sinking weakly onto the bed.
When he lifted his face again, tears streamed down: “Is there still any way to save him?”
The abbot did not answer directly, his gaze carrying a kind of pity Bai Chunsheng could hardly comprehend.
He suddenly brought up their meeting from two hundred years ago: “Wouldn’t it have been better if Yan Jingqiu had died? I remember you despised him the most, claiming that if he died, you would be the top of the Heaven’s Pride Board.”
Bai Chunsheng wiped some tears with the back of his hand. “That was when I was immature. I thought… I thought… Forget it, don’t mention it again. I only want to save him now.”
Bai Chunsheng said, “He’s only one step away. If the one he truly loves is really me, and if Yan Jingqiu can kill me, then he can become a Vulnerable!”
“It’s not that simple,” the abbot said. “Do you know why Lord Dingguang lingered at the peak of tribulation for nearly a thousand years yet hesitated to advance? The alcohol scent on him comes from the poisoned wine of Penglai Island, and the floral fragrance is the mesmerizing aroma of the rosemary from Cuiwei Palace that traps people in illusions. The jade figurine from Changliu Mountain cannot be set aside—it captures his obsession. The fish, insects, birds, and beasts he carved became more lifelike day by day; the music he played on the zither and flute was unmatched. But from the day he personally forced his beloved to death, Lord Dingguang became a walking corpse, a heart demon born from □□.”
“Of course, I also don’t wish Lord Dingguang to become a Vulnerable. If he does, he would be the first in cultivation history to achieve Dao mastery through the path of a demonic body and the killing of his loved ones. His obsession and madness would surpass anything the world has yet seen.”
The abbot said, “The guest who spent the night talking with me before you and your grandmother Bai Jianghan arrived was the young Sword Sovereign. He shared much with me. Now that he has entrusted you to my care at Huayan Temple, he surely hopes for your safety and smooth journey. It is better not to grieve too much.”
Ever since the abbot mentioned that Bo Yan was trapped in the southern part of the Western Desert, Bai Chunsheng’s ears had been buzzing; nothing else seemed to reach him. He did not know how much time had passed before he heard the abbot slowly mention something: “I heard he sent you a letter before entering seclusion?”
“If you have time, take a look. It might help. Benefactor Yan is clever—he would not leave himself without an escape. Of course, if he is determined to die, that is another matter entirely.”
After speaking, the abbot slowly retreated. “If anything happens, just call out. Huayan Temple is currently the safest place in the cultivation world. Lord Dingguang may seem reckless in speech and deed, but that is only because he recalled old events and drank some wine, slightly drunk. Normally, he is not like this—there is no need to fear.”
Once the door quietly closed again, Bai Chunsheng, sitting by the bed, remembered the letter.
If this envelope truly contained the playful tricks of the Yan Jingqiu of old, what harm would it do to look?
Even if it were a trick—or a deadly sword technique—current Bai Chunsheng welcomed it willingly.
He retrieved the letter from his storage pouch—a letter delivered to him nearly two hundred years ago that he had never opened. The handwriting was Yan Jingqiu’s, and the letter was long and detailed.
It was nothing like Bai Chunsheng had imagined. He had expected mockery or ridicule from Yan Jingqiu, but in truth, the letter simply recorded Yan Jingqiu’s reflections on his cultivation while at Lutai. He wished Bai Chunsheng a happy birthday, including his two-hundredth birthday, and blessings for the many years to come.
And also:
“Heaven had surely blessed you, granting you peace and good fortune.”
It felt as if Yan Jingqiu, separated by these two centuries, was giving Bai Chunsheng a farewell that would never be answered.
At this point, Bai Chunsheng could no longer restrain himself. He collapsed over the table and wailed, tears soaking the letter.
On the back of the envelope, there was one final line:
“If you see me after I lost my memory, please comfort him: if you cannot, then let it be.”
Author’s Note:
“Heaven had surely blessed you, granting you peace and good fortune.” — From the pre-Qin period, anonymous, Tianbao. I’m here!
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