Chapter 41

After Mu Xue jogged off, Cen Qianshan, who’d been so weak he could barely move, slowly sat up from the grass.
Lips pressed tight, he watched that shrinking figure as she hurried away from him.
His little Master, running so fast, her mind already lost in worry for the family and friends that fate had given her this time around.
She didn’t even glance back at him.
Cen Qianshan glanced down at his own hands. Rainwater had seeped into his wounds, stripping away swathes of flesh. Blood streaked his arms, bones gleaming white beneath the ruin, ghastly and pitiful.
Before, when he’d ended up like this, Master would have stayed by his side, carefully bandaging and anointing the hurts, speaking softly to coax him through the pain. She would let him camp right next to her worktable for the day, glancing up every now and then to check if he still hurt.
Master, why don’t you ask me that anymore?
Xiao Shan really hurts, you know.
Cen Qianshan covered his eyes with his hand.
His Master clearly remembered everything, every lifetime, every heartbreak, yet she refused to acknowledge him, or respond to his desperate confessions.
Had she chosen to cast it all aside? To leave behind everything from the Demon Spirit Realm, for good?
All the way here, he’d banked on her not seeing through him, and forced himself to confess everything he’d guarded for years, shame and all.
He cracked his heart wide open, dragging all the hidden treasures, every little secret, out for her to see.
Trembling with shame and guilt, he’d said it all, right in front of everyone, looking into those shining eyes of hers as he spilled his soul.
It was raw. Reckless. Humiliating. He’d put everything on the line, but still, she gave him nothing.
But what could he do?
He was running out of time. The moment they left this place, the waiting would stretch into years, centuries maybe, before he saw her again.
This life, his Master was surrounded by so many good people, warm, upright, born into privilege. They cared for her so much.
If he didn’t seize this sliver of fate, use this chance to say what needed saying, he might never get another word in, the next time they met.
"Still hurts a lot?" a familiar voice suddenly echoed close by.
Cen Qianshan dropped his hand, startled. The little Master who’d run off was standing in front of him again, a little out of breath, for reasons he couldn’t fathom.
"I thought about it, and I’m still worried about you," she said. "It’s way too dangerous here, the guy who’s been lurking in the shadows, whispering, still hasn’t shown himself."
Mu Xue drew out a slip of talisman paper from her robes, aged and worn, with no markings except a tiny, inky-black fish stamped in one corner.
She carefully folded the talisman and pressed it into Cen Qianshan’s battered hand, speaking with a hint of guilt, guilt for how her Master Su Xingtin might feel. "Keep this close, in case you need to run. It’s an heirloom of my sect, works even in the Dongyue Temple. There are only two left. One for you, and one for me."
Xiao Shan stared blankly at the sliver of talisman paper in his palm, lips parted in silence.
Mu Xue almost reached out to ruffle his hair.
"Does it still hurt?" she asked again.
Cen Qianshan dropped his lashes. "No. It doesn’t hurt anymore."
Was that... was that a smile on Xiao Shan’s face?
"Okay, I’m off then. Wait right here for me, I’ll be back before you know it."
Thank goodness Xiao Shan didn’t know who she really was now, Mu Xue told herself. Otherwise, he’d be tugging at her sleeve by now, dead set on following her no matter what she said.
The floating island was a rolling sea of purple grass,
Purple-heart grass, extinct in the outside world, covered every inch of this place in waving beauty.
Tiny Mu Xue dashed through that vast sea of violet.
The Deathless Pool should be just ahead.
There, a pillar of sword aura shot skyward, dragon roars thundering across the hills. That was Senior Brother Fu Yun’s Nine Plum Blossom Swords.
By the time Mu Xue parted the grass and reached the lakeshore, the battle was already over.
The demon god who had guarded these waters lay slumped at the edge. A creature with the head of a man and the body of a dragon, it had been slain, twisted neck trailing in the water, glassy eyes staring at the sky. Its long tail flattened acres of purple-heart grass beneath it.
One figure stood alone, back to the sunset, by the sparkling edge of the pool. Doubling over with a cough, he reached down to fill a jug with pure, gleaming water.
"Senior Brother Yun!"
Mu Xue hurried to Fu Yun’s side, but the smile dropped off her face.
Fu Yun stood by the blood-soaked water’s edge, in even worse shape than Cen Qianshan, great strips of skin, eaten away by poison, sloughing from his flesh.
When he saw Mu Xue, his vague, unfocused gaze brightened a little. He pushed the jar of water into her arms, clutching her shoulder with a trembling hand as he slowly sat down.
The bottom of the Deathless Pool shimmered with silver-white crystal, sunset spilling liquid gold along the shore and setting the water alive with color.
Duckweed floated on the surface, purpling grass nodding and filling the air with delicate fragrance along the banks.
In this lakeside paradise, Mu Xue found herself utterly helpless.
The water from the Deathless Pool and the Purple Heart Grass were already in hand. But she had no idea how she was supposed to get her severely injured senior brother and Xiao Shan out from the storm-battered stone bridge and back outside the temple.
Neither of them could possibly survive another round of that terrifying rain. And the Biluochuan Black Lotus that Cen Qianshan had come here searching for? Nowhere to be found. The Deathless Pool wasn’t big, you could see everything at a glance. There was clearly no legendary treasure hiding here.
Mu Xue sat at the edge of the lake, watching her unconscious senior brother and glancing at Cen Qianshan in the distance. She sighed to herself,
“Looks like my only option is to get back first, wake senior sister up, and come up with a plan from there.”
“Unless I choose to let you go, not just them, even you, getting out of here would be next to impossible.” A man’s rich, steady voice broke the silence.
This voice… Mu Xue had heard it over and over ever since entering the temple.
Clearly, the mysterious presence that had been watching their every move had finally decided to show itself.
From beneath the pool, pale silver gems rolled outward, making way as a massive, ancient-looking stone stele began to rise from the transparent waters.
Atop the stele were ancient runes, cryptic and hard to decipher. The face of the stele, a terrifying sight, was bound tightly around a man in black robes.
From the chest down, he was completely embedded in the stone, his arms pinned as well. Only his head and the top of his torso stuck out. Clad in a cascade of black hair, he lifted a pallid face to meet Mu Xue’s gaze.
She had seen that face before, identical to the white-robed Wuchang they’d encountered on the path of the dead. A perfect mirror image.
The only difference: one in white, one in black. This black-robed Wuchang also bore a vicious split across his chest, but the wound here was stitched haphazardly with thick, overlapping thread. Beneath the rough stitching, something visibly thumped and pulsed, like a living, beating heart was buried deep inside.
“You don’t have to be nervous. I mean you no harm,” he said, his eyes calm, voice echoing from the center of the pool.
All this way, his voice had offered them hints: telling them the Deathless Pool could undo petrification, warning them of the unstoppable mercy rain. He hadn’t seemed to mean them any harm, in fact, he’d been helpful.
But Mu Xue was still wary. She watched this man, trapped yet suspiciously serene.
“Even though my body is sealed in the Deathless Pool, thanks to a certain someone, I can still catch a glimpse of things happening outside,” the black-clad figure said, a hint of nostalgia flickering across his face.
Mu Xue noticed that although he and the white-robed Wuchang looked identical, this man’s manner felt naturally human. He wasn’t masking his expressions or clumsily mimicking people behind a facade.
“Did you tell Xiao Bai that he had no heart? That he didn’t understand human feelings or desires, and therefore wasn’t really alive?” the man asked quietly. “He was hurt by that. For a long time.”
Mu Xue thought for a moment. “I was angry then, and just said that to vent. I guess it was a pretty narrow-minded thing to say.”
“Angry?”
“He tied up the disciple I raised myself, never scolded, never hit, and even made him cry. Of course I was pissed off.” Mu Xue scrutinized the man before her; he looked almost human, but to exist down here, sealed this way for centuries… he couldn’t possibly be an ordinary person.
“Words said in anger don’t count. Actually, I think as long as you have memories, can think on your own, and act with free will, you count as a living being, no matter what you look like. The white-robed Wuchang might be insufferable, but he’s obviously crossed the line from puppet to real existence. That’s life.”
The Wuchang bound in stone studied Mu Xue in silence for a long while, then gave a gentle smile.
“I waited so many years, but never once met a true puppet master, until today.”
The surface of the pool shivered. Two lotus buds broke through, unfurling layer by layer beneath the golden sunlight, one pure black as the night, one flawless white as jade. Twin flowers, black and white, entwined and glowing with dazzling brilliance.
“I’d like to ask you for a favor. If you agree, these two Biluochi Twin Lotuses are yours as thanks.” Wuchang’s voice was soft. “As long as you carry one of these across the stone bridge, the mercy rain can’t touch you.”
Mu Xue’s eyes widened, the black lotus had to be the very one Xiao Shan needed.
She really couldn’t say no. “What kind of help do you want from me?”
“Earlier you said Xiao Bai had no heart, no feelings; in a way, you were right.”
“That child’s always been so lonely, always watching you humans and wishing he could laugh, cry, live like you do.”
“Here, I have a heart,” the man in the stone said quietly, backlit by the setting sun. “It’s no use to me anymore. Please, take it, and place it in his chest for me.”
“Uh.” Mu Xue blinked, struggling to believe what she was hearing. “What about you?”
Trapped and helpless, the puppet gave a faint, miserable smile. “Xiao Bai wants a heart to taste all of life, all its emotions. As for me? Losing it would finally let me rest.”
Mu Xue cut through the thick threads sealing Wuchang’s chest, revealing the heart within, a marvel of intricate, interlocking mechanisms. Yet even made of cold metal and gears, it beat steadily, just like a human heart.
Standing in the water, Mu Xue inhaled deeply. “Are you sure? I can’t promise I’ll succeed.”
Wuchang nodded. “Don’t overthink it. I chose you for a reason. You can do it.”
Mu Xue grinned crookedly. “Aren’t you worried I’ll rip out your heart and just run off with your lotus instead?”
He laughed softly. “Humans and us, we’re nothing alike. There are no lies in our world.”
“We don’t hear the words you say. We see straight into what you truly think and feel.” His clear, limpid gaze settled on Mu Xue. “For example, that young man loves you. He couldn’t hide it, which is why Xiao Bai teased him so cruelly. And as for your heart…”
When Cen Qianshan finally made it to the edge of the Deathless Pool, he saw in the center of those twilight-stained waters a stone monument, ancient, stark, impossibly old.
Mu Xue stood, half-submerged, in front of the monument.
Embedded in the massive slab, a figure jutted outward, a man, or what was left of him.
His hands were shackled high above his head, pale skin luminous under the dying light, long hair hanging limp. He looked as if he’d been dead a very, very long time.
Standing waist-deep in the water, Mu Xue cupped in her hands a twin lotus, one black, one white, chin lifted as she studied the cryptic script carved into the stone.
At the sound of Cen Qianshan calling her, she let out a long sigh at last. Plucking the white lotus from the paired blossoms, she raised her hand and pressed it into the gaping wound left in that man’s chest.
She turned back, crossing the water towards Cen Qianshan, cradling the obsidian Black Lotus and, a strangely shaped hunk of iron.
Behind her, the slanting sun bled across the horizon, washing the pool in crimson.
That monument in the water was more tombstone than stele, with the single white bloom atop it as if it were some offering, an eternal flower holding the weight of sacrifice and hope.
"Here, this is for you." Mu Xue’s pale, delicate hand offered the black lotus to him,