Chapter 40

Mu Xue and Cen Qianshan walked through the temple doors.
In the center of the spacious square hung a glowing jade screen, flickering and flashing with images whose meaning was impossible to decipher.
Sometimes, a whirl of vibrant, swirling spheres. Sometimes, dazzling and mysterious star nebulae. Most often, flickering faces of countless beings from all walks of life.
Hordes of lost souls sat before the screen, the ever-shifting lights casting shadows across their vacant, numb faces.
As Mu Xue walked by, she spotted her senior sister, Miao Hong’er. Hong’er sat at the very edge of the throng, squeezed onto a tiny bench, back straight, her usual lively spirit nowhere in sight; her eyes were empty and unfocused, staring dead ahead.
Mu Xue’s heart tightened. She forced herself to look away from her sister’s face, and passed through the great open square straight to the main hall of the temple.
This was a temple from the ancient past, built at the dawn of chaos, primitive and massive, awe-inspiring in its grandeur. Towering stone columns rose on either side, their flanks carved with ancient, desolate gods.
Those statues must have been made by the hands of the divine, not mere mortals.
Some were gods with human faces and serpentine bodies; some, demonic beings with six arms and double heads. There was a fiery-haired, ferocious deity standing atop a dragon. And there, a goddess in moonlit robes, floating as if she could ascend on the light of the night sky.
Some crouched atop the pillars, gazing down imperiously at all who passed beneath. Others, bulging with muscle, braced the heavens above with outstretched arms, glaring fiercely at the earth below.
They were only cold statues, yet each was eerily lifelike, emanating an ancient power that had not faded in ten thousand years. In their presence, reverence rose up on instinct.
The temple was filled with silent, overpowering pressure. No sound but their voices echoed off the stone. Aside from the entrance where they’d come in, no other exit could be seen.
And the fabled Deathless Pool within the temple’s walls, where was it, exactly?
In the heart of the main hall, the master of the temple sat cross-legged: a colossal statue of the Ancient God Dongyue. Mu Xue stood before it, gazing upward, its expression gentle and sorrowful, as if it mourned all living things from high above.
Suddenly, at her ear, she heard the same melody she’d heard when first stepping into this temple, echoing from that place between dream and reality,
“Heaven’s years are numbered, Earth’s time will end… But the Way is unbound, and life, eternal. Of all the world’s joy, none surpasses this.”
This, at last, was Paradise’s real meaning.
Looking back, she realized: not long ago, drifting free from the six realms, wandering the boundless void, everything she’d seen and felt must have been this deity’s gift.
Only a true god, one who had seen such worlds, could have shared a vision so profound with her.
That illusion had given Mu Xue incredible insight, quietly laying the foundation stone of her Dao heart. The true treasure she brought back from this temple wasn’t anything anyone could steal, nor could any rare herb or artifact compare.
Mu Xue took three incense sticks left by Uncle Zhong, lit them, and raised them high above her head. After three solemn bows, she set them gently into the long-sealed incense burner before Dong Yue’s shrine.
The moment the incense met the burner, a distant sigh echoed from somewhere unseen. Dust rumbled down the stone wall at the back of the temple, revealing a hidden door slowly swinging open.
Cen Qianshan and Mu Xue stepped forward to peer outside. Beyond the door, a sheer cliff plunged into a bottomless abyss; only a thin stone beam stretched out from the doorway. Far across the chasm, that narrow bridge connected to a floating green island suspended in the air.
At the heart of that skyborne oasis shimmered a crystal spring, the place they all sought: the Deathless Pool.
The sky here had changed. Gone was the golden dusky sunlight. Instead, thick fog wreathed the abyss; above, gray rainclouds pressed down, a steady drizzle soaking the world.
“This is the Mercy Rain, it returns all spiritual energy to heaven and earth. None may pass unscathed. To cross is to know pain down to the bone.”
The voice, so often warning them on their journey, now reminded them again of the peril ahead.
Cen Qianshan reached a hand into the curtain of rain. Just one or two drops splashed his fingers, and immediately his skin sizzled, eaten away as wisps of green smoke rose from the burns.
This rain was intensely corrosive. The stone beam, barely as thick as an arm, hung over a dizzying drop. Crossing here meant paying the price, if you dared.
Cen Qianshan pointed out a clear footprint near the threshold for Mu Xue to see. “Daoist Fu beat us out of the illusion. He’s already crossed over.”
He looked up, meeting Mu Xue’s eyes.
The message was obvious: Your senior brother’s already gone ahead. I’m about to follow. Why don’t you just wait here for us to return, alright?
Mu Xue shook her head. “I might be young, but I’m a cultivator too, not made of glass. The rain might sting, but it won’t kill me. Once I get across, I’ll patch myself up, and I’ll be fine, just like you.”
Cen Qianshan said nothing more. He drew Frostbite, hacked apart a squat, hulking ghost statue, and then, using its heavy form as a shield, he led the way into the deadly rain with Mu Xue at his side.
The beam was slick and narrow, and every step overlooked the endless void. Still, Mu Xue steeled her nerves, moving as quickly and steadily as she could, determined not to slow Cen Qianshan down.
All her focus stayed on her own feet, never noticing the person right behind her, almost the whole statue’s bulk was slanted protectively above her, sheltering her from the acid rain. Not a single drop touched her.
But as soon as they stepped out fully into the rain, the downpour intensified. The stone statue dissolved under the deluge, muddy rivulets running down its sides. It grew lighter, softer with each step, until it couldn’t shield them from the storm at all.
And still, half the bridge remained.
Mu Xue began to run, bracing herself for the pain to come, when suddenly a pair of arms closed around her from behind, pulling her into the safety of a chest.
Cen Qianshan bent over her, curving his larger frame around little Mu Xue, shielding her from the deadly rain. Acidic drops pelted his head, his shoulders, his back, each one raising ugly welts and curling smoke. Not a drop landed on the girl in his arms.
At first, he pushed forward, using the last of his meager spiritual energy. But as the burns worsened, as the smoke billowed off his back, his steps slowed, weighed down by pain.
Hunched and shuddering, but still hugging Mu Xue tightly, he trudged on through the onslaught.
Held close, Mu Xue couldn’t move; all she could see was Cen Qianshan’s face above hers, growing paler by the second.
She couldn’t see outside, but she could guess what was happening. Her voice was urgent: “Put me down. Let me go. I can walk myself.”
“It’s alright.” Cen Qianshan looked down and managed a faint smile for her. “Either way, we both have to face the rain… but if just one of us can be spared, isn’t that worth it?”
He walked on, as if merely taking Mu Xue for a stroll beneath the rainclouds.
As they went, he spoke softly. Perhaps to her, perhaps just to himself,
“Did you know… I had a master once. The best person in the world.
When I was a kid, she would carry me home like this, slowly, through blizzards, holding me close to keep me safe.”
Inside his embrace, Mu Xue looked up, never taking her eyes off him. His damp hair clung to his brow; his gaze was misted, almost delirious from pain or fever. Yet his arms never faltered, holding her so tightly, step after agonizing step through the downpour.
“Once, I burned with fever. So hot, so much pain, just like now.” His voice was fuzzy, wandering. “I thought she’d abandon me… but she just held me so carefully, carried me home with not a snowflake touching me.
That was the first time I realized… I could be the one protected. Not just some unwanted mutt, not some rag for others to use or hurt.
You have no idea how much I love her. Even if she doesn’t want me. Even if she smiles only for someone else, it’s fine. As long as I can see her from afar… I’m happy.”
His eyes flooded with unshed tears, and the words that poured from him were all deep, aching affection.
You really have no idea how much I love her.
I love her.
I have always loved her.
Even a heart of stone would melt, soaked again and again by this kind of unending devotion.
It made you ache, made you guilty, made you want, for just a moment, to give something back.
At last, they reached the end of the bridge, the edge of the rain. Cen Qianshan set Mu Xue tenderly down among the sweet grass, and promptly collapsed, completely spent.
Mu Xue could barely bring herself to look at Cen Qianshan's body, mangled and ravaged by corrosion. Gritting her teeth, she settled him gently onto a patch of dry grass, tucked safely away from the rain. She pressed medicine to his lips and began to tend to his wounds.
"It's nothing, really, just some cuts and scrapes," Cen Qianshan reassured her with a smile. "Let me rest a bit. I’ll bounce back in no time."
He’d been through so much lately, but somehow he was all smiles these days.
Mu Xue, of course, knew the truth. If Cen Qianshan hadn’t stepped in to shield her, his injuries never would have run so deep. And if she’d come through alone, no amount of trickery or cleverness could have left her so unscathed.
"Rest here and don't move," she said softly. "I'll go on ahead to the Deathless Pool. Tell me what you need, and I’ll bring it back for you." But even as she asked, Mu Xue wasn’t sure, would Xiao Shan trust her enough, given who she was now, to share something so important?
"If you can, bring me a Nine-Turn Black Lotus from the Biluochi," Cen Qianshan said, almost offhand. "But if you can’t get it, don’t push yourself. It doesn't really matter to me anymore."
He closed his eyes, detached and distant, no longer meeting Mu Xue’s gaze.
As if that man who'd just poured his burning heart out to her in the rain never even existed.