Half of the tangled red threads lay scattered and disordered across the ground, while the other half fluttered and drifted away on the wind. Fluttering away along with the wind were a few strands of dark hair that had been bound together with the red cord.
A strand of hair is also a strand of longing hair tied with a red cord, affection bestowed from the heart.
With vacant, hollow eyes, Sang Hua gazed at the red cords drifting and scattering into the sky, feeling as though something inside him were slowly tearing apart and collapsing.
Sang Hua cared about that square-victory knot not because of the knot itself, but simply because the tassel had been a gift from Duan Junyi and now, it had likewise been destroyed by Duan Junyi’s own hands.
“Master, will you abandon me?”
“Before I met Master, I never believed the word ‘forever’ existed in this world, nor did I believe genuine affection could exist. After meeting Master, I believe only in Master.”
“Master, this tassel is called Never-Parting; two loops locked together, red cords unbroken, never to be separated. I will hang it from my waist, and from this day on we shall never part ways again.”
“Master, you won’t cast me aside, right?”
Scene after scene of the past remained vivid before his eyes, yet now, they could only meet the same fate as this tassel shattered into fragments, leaving behind nothing but widespread desolation and endless, mournful autumn sorrow.
“A-Yi, in the end… it is you who rejects your master…”
Grief gripped Sang Hua’s heart so tightly that a mouthful of fresh blood welled up and spilled from his lips. He felt an agonizing pain wracking his entire frame not merely from his injuries, but an all-encompassing agony as though every bone and joint across his four limbs and hundred skeletons were shattering to pieces.
“Sang Hua… Sang Hua… Master…”
Through a hazy mist, someone seemed to be calling his name. Gradually, even sounds faded entirely beyond his perception, leaving him incapable of offering any response, conscious of nothing save for an unceasing, rolling wave of pain.
When he slowly drifted back to consciousness and opened his eyes, the hazy blur revealed Duan Junyi sitting beside the bed, earnestly turning the pages of an ancient codex.
Sang Hua merely opened his eyes without making the slightest physical movement, yet Duan Junyi perceived his awakening instantly, setting aside the codex to pour a cup of warm tea and hand it over.
The memories prior to his unconsciousness still lingered fresh in his mind. Stung by bitter heartache and unwilling to engage with Duan Junyi, Sang Hua closed his eyes once more, pretending he had never woken up at all.
Knowing Sang Hua’s temperament all too well this person never troubled others, but when it came to tormenting himself, he held back zero punches, Duan Junyi settled onto the edge of the bed and spoke to the closed-eyed Sang Hua: “While you were unconscious, Fuweimen sent people to rescue you. What a pity the Immortal Venerable didn’t get to see how Elder Chang Lin practically threw his life away fighting for your sake.”
At the mention of Chang Lin, Sang Hua snapped his eyes open instantly, asking with anxious panic: “What did you do to him?”
A triumphant curve tugged at the corners of Duan Junyi’s mouth; true enough, only the safety of those around him could force Sang Hua to submit obediently.
Assisting Sang Hua into a seated position, Duan Junyi glared fiercely as he spoke: “The Immortal Venerable is blessed with a fine face, so this seat cannot bear to lay a hand on the Immortal Venerable that does not mean this seat cannot do as I please with others.”
Unwilling to drink the warm tea, Duan Junyi had someone fetch a bowl of peach blossom soup instead, yet Sang Hua cared solely for Chang Lin’s safety: “How is Chang Lin Senior Brother?”
Impatiently, Duan Junyi replied: “The Immortal Venerable had better obediently consume this peach blossom soup and take your medicine; otherwise, should this seat lose his temper and shatter Elder Chang Lin’s limbs, it is entirely within the realm of possibility.”
This threat proved remarkably effective on Sang Hua, who offered no further resistance as Duan Junyi spoon-fed him.
Watching Sang Hua swallow the bowl of medicinal soup entirely, Duan Junyi handed him a preserved fruit to sweeten his mouth, expressing satisfaction: “If the Immortal Venerable had been this obedient from the start, this seat wouldn’t have needed to vent my anger upon Elder Chang Lin.”
“What did you do to Chang Lin Senior Brother?” Sang Hua continued pressing, his voice carrying a latent edge of anger that left Duan Junyi in zero doubt that should any harm befall Chang Lin, Sang Hua would inevitably flip out on him.
Detachedly, Duan Junyi answered: “This seat did nothing to him. Mu Jin of the Xuan Yin Pavilion took him away. Is the Immortal Venerable satisfied now?”
Though Sang Hua doubted Duan Junyi would commit any heinous atrocities, whenever Chang Lin was involved, worry remained unavoidable.
Back during their days in Fuweimen when Sang Hua was absent, Chang Lin frequently disciplined Duan Junyi in accordance with sect rules, leaving Duan Junyi harboring a desire to lock Chang Lin up a thought he had harbored for more than a day or two.
Learning that Duan Junyi had done nothing to Chang Lin, Sang Hua finally set his mind entirely at ease.
At this, Duan Junyi added: “Listen well: you are now this seat’s prisoner. Should you pull any more stunts that distress this seat—I let Chang Lin go this once, but next time, whether Elder Chang Lin hides in Fuweimen or the Xuan Yin Pavilion, this seat will drag him out and shatter his limbs.”
With vacant, hollow eyes, Sang Hua stared fixedly at Duan Junyi, offering no response whatsoever.
Observing this reaction, Duan Junyi let out a sigh and continued: “Half a month from now, the Xuan Yin Pavilion will host a dharma assembly in Yangzhou City. Having been rescued by Mu Jin, Chang Lin owes Mu Jin a favor; he will undoubtedly attend the assembly. Recover from your injuries; half a month from now, I will take you to Yangzhou City. Perhaps you will get to see Chang Lin then—how does that sound?”
“Do you believe I possess the right to refuse you?” Sang Hua offered a flat, lifeless retort, sinking back down to lie sideways on the bed once more.
The Xuan Yin Pavilion was a sect that had emerged only within recent years. Unlike other immortal sects that concealed themselves atop secluded immortal mountains, the Xuan Yin Pavilion established its presence across every corner of the mortal world.
When other immortal sects recruited disciples, they screened for those possessing superior spiritual roots and extraordinary aptitude; whereas the Xuan Yin Pavilion accepted any individual possessing spiritual roots and the capacity for cultivation, bringing them into the sect for instruction.
Consequently, within less than a decade, the Xuan Yin Pavilion had amassed an exceptionally formidable reputation among the common populace. The dharma assemblies convened by the Xuan Yin Pavilion aimed precisely at casting a wide net to recruit disciples from across the world.
The emergence of the Xuan Yin Pavilion closely coincided with the appearance of the Dome, leading many in the early years to suspect deep, hidden ties between the Xuan Yin Pavilion and the Dome.
Over time, those voices had faded into obscurity.
Because the appearance of the Dome was synonymous with slaughter, inspiring terror and panic among the populace who sought only to flee at the mere mention of it.
Conversely, the emergence of the Xuan Yin Pavilion centered on broadly recruiting those endowed with spiritual roots across the world to shelter and protect the common folk.
With the Xuan Yin Pavilion convening its dharma assembly in Yangzhou City, commoners from all surrounding cities flocked in droves toward Yangzhou. Within a mere half-month, Yangzhou City was packed to bursting with people.
Ever since the emergence of the great demonic lord of the Dome, such a prosperous, bustling spectacle had grown exceedingly rare in the mortal realm. Everyone lived in dread that the great demonic lord might suddenly materialize, turning the mortal realm into yet another dead city—or worse, transforming themselves into bleaching bones within an empty ruin.
The moment Duan Junyi brought Sang Hua into the city, he headed straight to a ready-wear boutique, purchasing a bamboo-hat veil to shroud Sang Hua thoroughly.
“Am I truly that unpresentable?” Unaccustomed to hiding his head and tail like this, Sang Hua felt profoundly uncomfortable beneath the sheltering veil.
Duan Junyi replied: “Portraits of the Yujin Immortal Venerable are everywhere, enshrined in practically every household. If you walk out openly like this and someone recognizes you walking side by side with the great demonic lord, the Immortal Venerable’s lifelong reputation will be utterly ruined.”
Sang Hua remained unimpressed: “I fear no man’s gaze. However, I would much rather you tell me the hidden truth, clear away this false grievance, and return with me to Yujin Peak. If you wish not to return to Fuweimen, I will accompany you wherever you wish to go.”
Duan Junyi’s hands froze mid-adjustment of the veil’s drapery, before a cold sneer broke across his face: “The Immortal Venerable is far too naive. A great demonic lord naturally exists to bring calamity to the world what innocence is there to clear? I keep you here simply to let you witness how this seat shall use the body of your most beloved disciple to bring about the destruction of the world.”
An oppressive aura reminiscent of a deep forest emanated from Duan Junyi at that moment, his eyes burning with terrifying, gloomy malice as he stated coldly: “This seat will make this mortal realm identical to the world of my past mad, chaotic, and ultimately obliterated into nothingness.”