AT THE FOOT OF Mount Jiao, all the cultivators—with the exception of the Jiangdong Hall group, who'd disappeared—had successfully made their escape.
Though they knew they were still in danger, many crumpled to the ground as soon as they stepped through the barrier. Eyes rolling back, Ma Yun collapsed over a boulder and wailed. "No-no-no more, I've had enough! Friends, let's all just go home and lock our doors—I seriously can't do this anymore!"
"Go home before we've figured out what that array was, and who came out of it?" asked Jiang Xi.
"What can we do? If we had the strength to fight them, we wouldn't have had to flee so pathetically."
Master Xuanjing added his voice. "Jiang-zhangmen, let's listen to Ma-zhuangzhu this time. Instead of heroically mounting a defense here and imperiling ourselves, we should regroup and return stronger, with better preparations."
Jiang Xi pursed his lips and looked toward the Sisheng Peak contingent. Xue Zhengyong and Xue Meng both still stared up Mount Jiao's main path, equally dazed. Finally a figure flew out from those clouds of billowing dust.
"Mo Ran…" mumbled Xue Meng.
Mo Ran was last to exit the barrier. Dark brows drawn low, he looked over the assembled group. "It's the Zhenlong Chess Formation, and maybe the Space-Time Gate of Life and Death. If that's really what it is, we don't know what caliber of person might emerge from it. All of you, hurry up and leave. Don't throw your lives away. Everyone's safety is more important."
He paused before turning to Jiang Xi. "Jiang-zhangmen, please take everyone to Rainbell Isle. With the Xuanwu barrier for defense, you can keep Hua Binan away for a while. And your sect specializes in medicine; there's no better place for those cursed with the heart-tunnelers to receive treatment."
"What about you?" Jiang Xi asked.
"Shizun is still on the mountain. I'll go back and help him as soon as you've left and meet you back at your sect once this is dealt with."
After a long silence, Jiang Xi bowed to Mo Ran. "We shall wait for you at Guyueye. Farewell."
The injured, exhausted, and debilitated made ready to leave this dangerous place with Jiang Xi. Mo Ran suddenly called out again. "Jiang-zhangmen!"
"Does Mo-zongshi have other matters to discuss?"
"Miss Ye…" Mo Ran didn't go on.
"I know. No one will harm a hair on her head; I promise you that."
Only then did Mo Ran relax.
While Jiang Xi and the others left, those of Sisheng Peak stayed put. After hesitating, Xue Zhengyong went up with his brow furrowed and his voice hoarse. "Ran-er, what's this about?"
Mo Ran gazed at his uncle, then at his cousin. His heart ached horribly, but he forced a smile. "It's a long, long story. Uncle, take Xue Meng to Guyueye too. I'll tell you everything later."
But how could Xue Meng wait that long? Anxiety and impatience flooded him. "How could you be a descendant of Rufeng Sect? You've grown up at Sisheng Peak, y-you—" He stammered for a moment, but what came out as his eyes reddened at the rims was: "You're my ge, right?"
Mo Ran looked at him. Xue Meng was shaking. He was obviously trying his best to control himself, but he was still shaking. The way he looked, dazed and miserable, was so pitiable Mo Ran tasted bitterness at the back of his throat. He didn't know what to say.
He patted Xue Meng's shoulder. "When I first came to Sisheng Peak, you didn't even want to acknowledge me." He smiled ruefully. He dared not meet Xue Meng's wide and tearful eyes. They were too clear, too passionate. And he was dirty. He was scared.
It took Xue Meng a long beat to respond, his voice almost too hoarse to understand. "Can't you give me a straight answer?"
His fingers tightened around Longcheng's hilt. Mo Ran had given him the crystal embedded in this scimitar. He clutched it like floating driftwood. In a matter of a few hours, he'd watched as Nangong Si threw himself into the demon dragon's blood pool, watched as Shi Mei was blinded and taken away, watched as Mo Ran used his own blood to open a seal only a Nangong descendant could activate. He couldn't catch his breath—he felt like he was drowning.
Mo Ran couldn't bear it. "Okay," he said. "I'll give you a straight answer." He grasped Xue Meng's shoulder more firmly. He didn't know if it was Xue Meng or himself who was trembling, but it no longer mattered. He met Xue Meng's eyes and said with perfect clarity, "Listen—I've never been part of Rufeng Sect. In this life, I've never done anything to harm Sisheng Peak. If I can, I will spend the rest of my life serving the sect."
Xue Meng's lips parted as if to speak, but his tears fell before the words could escape his mouth. He bit his lip in silent endurance, but after a moment he broke down. "Shi Mei said I never understood him. To be honest… I've never understood you either… I've been too willful. I never considered how either of you felt. I don't know anything; I'm always messing things up…but…but…"
He paused, tears coursing down his face. "But I really do care about you guys. I'll never curse at you or bully Shi Mei ever again… I wish everything could go back to how it was… I just want everything to go back to how it was." He was sobbing so hard he could barely speak. "Ge, you better not be lying to me…"
Mo Ran couldn't bear to let him continue. He guided Xue Meng over to Xue Zhengyong, his voice low and so weighted with tears it brought to mind dawn dew lying heavy on blooming flowers. "Be good. Go with Uncle. Once this is over, I'll come find you as soon as I can."
He turned back toward the Mount Jiao barrier and released the seal. He walked through without looking back.
The chamber containing the Dragonsoul Pool was in ruins, its toppled stone pillars lying in the wreckage of a bitter fight of which only drifting smoke remained. Taxian-jun's long blade was pressed to Chu Wanning's throat, a stark red seeping from his skin and staining the pitch-black edge.
Chu Wanning closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and said nothing.
"Shizun, I don't think you were taking this fight seriously."
There was no response.
"You were distracted." Taxian-jun dragged him upright. The long blade Bugui disappeared with a flick of his fingers, but he'd worked the strongest binding spells in that fraction of a moment. The jade-green glow kept Chu Wanning firmly bound as Taxian-jun grabbed his chin and forced his face up. "Tell this venerable one, what are you thinking about?"
Chu Wanning's eyes fluttered open. That dear yet deeply alien face reflected in his pupils. He was afraid. This wasn't Mo Ran—but each of this man's attacks were so similar to Mo Ran's. Most terrifyingly of all, Chu Wanning had dreamed of him before. In those unthinkable dreams he'd had of himself and Mo Ran, he'd always seemed to have this pale and angular face. There was wickedness in his handsomeness, those dark pupils filled not with tenderness but with a cruel and crazed light.
"Even if you don't say it, this venerable one knows," Taxian-jun purred. "Shizun must be wondering who I am, what I'm babbling about, why I've come." Pale fingers caressed Chu Wanning's face. "Don't worry. This venerable one…will tell you everything in due time. By the way"—he looked down at Chu Wanning's left hand—"don't bother summoning Jiuge or Huaisha. This venerable one is ready. I would never make the same mistake twice."
Chu Wanning's expression darkened at the mention of his other two holy weapons. Though his phoenix eyes were stormy, there was a confusion in them. Taxian-jun seemed to delight in this look of bafflement on his stern face; he laughed aloud. "What is it?" he said, stroking Chu Wanning's cheek. "Does it shock you that I know about Jiuge and Huaisha? I understand. This venerable one understood long before coming here. I know something of this place. My counterpart in this world hasn't yet turned everything into a sea of blood. He hasn't forced you to meet him with swords drawn. Of course he hasn't seen those two weapons."
"Your…counterpart in this world?"
Taxian-jun gave him a smile but not an answer.
Chills ran down Chu Wanning's spine. This Mo Ran looked at him as one would look at a corpse, or a mirage. His gaze was raw and feral, his pupils filled with an intensity that threatened to draw onlookers into his madness.
"The Space-Time Gate of Life and Death," he said deliberately. "Shizun ought to know this forbidden technique well."
Chu Wanning tensed.
"In a different universe, Shizun, you've been dead for many years."
He watched Chu Wanning's rapidly paling face lose the last of its color. Taxian-jun gazed at him, an inconstant light dancing in his eyes. Like a sword unsheathing or a dragon breaking the waves, his calmness shattered. He yanked Chu Wanning closer, his demeanor dissolving into insanity. "That's right… Just like this, this exact face. This exact face… I watched this face of yours, I watched you lie in the Red Lotus Pavilion like the living dead, day in and day out… There was no color in your cheeks; your body was pristine, but you never spoke or opened your eyes—in that universe, you've been dead a long time—you had your revenge on me!"
He gulped in air, eyes blazing. They were full of despair, a wild storm gathering within. "Chu Wanning, I hate you. You left me there alone."
Despite his words, he clutched Chu Wanning tighter, crushing him in his embrace. Chu Wanning was so warm in his arms, like a flame. It burned Taxian-jun; he sighed low in his throat, tightening his grip around this long-awaited warmth, wanting nothing more than to devour it whole. Then, whether he lived or died, whether amidst searing heat or bitter cold, he'd have a companion; he'd have someone to take with him to the grave. He wouldn't be so terribly lonely.
No, no—Chu Wanning's scalp was prickling, his vision darkening. What was going on? He didn't understand at all—who had died? Who had left whom alone?
The doors to the Dragonsoul Pool opened again. The shadows shifted, and someone was running toward him with an anxious cry of "Shizun!"
Those hundreds of cultivators drew their swords and moved into defensive positions. At the sound of the newcomer's voice, Emperor Taxian-jun paused for a moment before smiling wanly. "And here I was wondering who would come. So it's him." He waved a hand, a slow and careless gesture. "Stand back," he said to his pawns. "Let him through."
Mo Ran had spent the entire trip up the mountain thinking about the Zhenlong Chess Formation and the Space-Time Gate of Life and Death. Hua Binan couldn't be the ultimate mastermind—if all this had been Hua Binan's doing, Xu Shuanglin would have surely exposed him after he wrecked Xu Shuanglin's plans at the Soul-Summoning Platform.
Then who was behind it?
Zhenlong Chess, the Space-Time Gate, Bugui, the ancient legend of two worlds colliding—each of these things connected. A terrible notion rose in his mind, one that chilled him to the bone. He didn't believe it. He had run this whole way, refusing to believe it.
Until he arrived at the Dragonsoul Pool and saw that man's face.
Mo Ran's ears rang; blood rushed to his head. He couldn't breathe, his lips opening and closing as terror gripped him.
No…no! How could this be real?
The man in the hall stood ringed by those pawns, his face contemptuous and cold, his eyes alight with scorn and amusement. He watched Mo Ran idly. They had the same eyes, nose, lips; they had the same face and spirit, the same body and soul. The differences were barely perceptible. It was as if Mo Ran was looking in a mirror, or looking through the sands of time to see that ghoulish, shadowy version of himself.
The corners of Taxian-jun's lips hooked up, splitting his mouth into a bloodthirsty grin. He hauled Chu Wanning before him, stroking the seam of Chu Wanning's lips to spell him silent before addressing the man at the door. "Oh, it's Mo-zongshi. This venerable one has heard so much about you. Now that the Space-Time Gate has opened, we meet at last." He paused, eyes glinting. White teeth snapped around his last sweetly icy words. "It's an honor."