A Glimpse into the Hundred Faces (29)
When Yun Yanqiu woke up, the downy feathers of a blue-and-white sparrow brushed against his cheek. He blinked, sat up, his head still a little dizzy. Qi Rongting saw him open his eyes and immediately beamed with joy, but the smile quickly froze. Because he discovered—Yun Yanqiu had amnesia. He had forgotten many things, especially the events of that night at the winery, which he had no recollection of.
"Where is my master?" Yun Yanqiu asked.
“Sword Master…” Qi Rongting’s voice trembled, and he hesitated, “We can’t contact him for the time being.”
Li Zhoubai's disappearance came without warning. He didn't mention his whereabouts to anyone, nor did he say goodbye. Even his disciple, Yun Yanqiu, didn't come to visit him. It was as if he had vanished into thin air, severing all ties with the world.
"Sword Master is probably busy with something important, don't overthink it," Qi Rongting said dryly, trying to comfort him. "He must care about you, otherwise he wouldn't have left the jade pendant for you."
Yun Yanqiu lowered his eyes and stared at the turbid jade at his waist, his pale knuckles tracing the mottled patterns on its surface. In a daze, a metallic, rusty smell seemed to linger at the tip of his nose.
"Thanks to it, the dark aura on your body was able to dissipate." As soon as the words left his mouth, Qi Rongting bit his tongue in regret, "Otherwise, I wouldn't know how to explain it to Brother Zhao!"
"Dark energy?" Yun Yanqiu suddenly raised her eyes, a ripple appearing in them. "I've developed a demonic aura?"
"Uh..." Qi Rongting wanted to slap himself twice, and could only stammer, "It's just a little bit of turbid air. Which cultivator hasn't been touched by it? Anyway, you're fine now..."
The words faded into silence. Yun Yanqiu remained silent, only repeatedly stroking the dull, grayish-white jade. His silence was like an invisible wall, sealing all his emotions in a corner unknown to anyone.
Qi Rongting, fearing he might say something inappropriate if he continued, quickly left. He told Zhao Huai Ren about Yun Yanqiu's awakening, and Zhao Huai Ren arrived at the mansion in just three days.
When they met again, the scar on Zhao Huai-ren's face was particularly noticeable. Yun Yanqiu asked blankly how he got the scar. Zhao Huai-ren was slightly taken aback, then smiled and said it was all his own carelessness.
"It's nothing serious, it's good that you're awake." Zhao Huai-ren patted his shoulder.
Yun Yanqiu gazed at his old friend's face, feeling that a deeper secret lay hidden beneath that scar. He vaguely sensed that something about Zhao Huai Ren had changed. Not only him, but even Qi Rongting had shed his boyishness, growing taller to be shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Yet, the faint pity in his eyes always made Yun Yanqiu feel uneasy.
The only thing unchanged was Yingying. It fluttered its round body, its bright, black-bean-like eyes gazing at him as if it were yesterday. Yun Yanqiu stroked the white sparrow's downy feathers, and the snowy scenery of Xuanming Mountain suddenly flashed into his mind. He decided to go back and take a look, so he bid farewell to the two of them after only a short rest.
Qi Rongting wanted to stop him, but Zhao Huai Ren nodded to Yun Yanqiu first: "Be careful on the road."
On the journey north, Li Zhoubai's name followed him like a shadow. In teahouses and taverns, people wove his deeds into stories, repeatedly recounting them and praising him to the point of deification. Yun Yanqiu listened quietly, feeling that the Li Zhoubai they spoke of was incredibly distant.
He hurried back to Xuanming Mountain, only to find that the snow there fell even more desolately than he had imagined. Yun Yanqiu brushed away the dust accumulated in the courtyard, and after the last withered leaf fell to the ground, he sat alone on the stone bench, staring blankly at the azure sword shadow that had condensed in his palm—this spiritual sword, which he had once struggled to cultivate, had now become perfectly natural in his oblivion.
He felt a strange mix of emotions and flicked his wrist, dispersing the spirit sword.
Suddenly, a rustling sound of branches and leaves came from the backyard. Yun Yanqiu looked up alertly and followed the sound, finding a series of winding footprints on the white snow, quietly leading to the mountaintop.
Yun Yanqiu's heart tightened. He followed the footprints in the snow upwards until he reached the stone cave where Li Zhoubai was in seclusion. At the edge of the cliff, a figure in pure white stood alone, his clothes tattered, fluttering like a butterfly in the biting wind, as if he might disappear into the vast snow at any moment.
"Master?" Yun Yanqiu's voice trembled slightly, as if he was hesitant to confirm.
Li Zhoubai slowly turned around, his gaze falling on Yun Yanqiu's clear eyes, his tense shoulders relaxing almost imperceptibly. "Long time no see," he said softly, his voice carrying undisguised weariness.
"Master, where did you go earlier?" Yun Yanqiu stepped forward with joy, but her smile suddenly froze when she caught sight of the stone tablet with the three characters "Qin Wenshuang" engraved on it.
He stared blankly as Li Zhoubai bent down and gently placed a broken piece of whip before the grave. In that instant, long-buried memories surged forth like a tidal wave—
"I searched for a long time, and finally found it in the Blood Pool." Li Zhoubai's knuckles traced the snow on the monument, his voice deep and hoarse. "Wen Shuang once told me that her greatest pride in life was inheriting her mother's whip technique to slay demons and monsters." His fingertips traced the engravings on the monument, and he murmured, "Until the very end, she never wavered..."
Before he could finish speaking, Li Zhoubai swayed violently and collapsed. Yun Yanqiu was shocked and rushed forward to help him up, only to find that his usually cold and aloof eyes were now stained with a thick, inky blood.
"Master, what is this?!" Yun Yanqiu was shocked and at a loss for what to do.
"Don't be afraid." Li Zhoubai lay in his arms, gently comforting him. His gaze was very calm, and a bitter smile appeared on his lips. "Maybe this is just my nature... Lu Jiu didn't die by my hand in the end, and I still can't get over it."
The three words "Lu Jiuzhong" pierced through Yun Yanqiu like a sharp blade, causing her breath to catch in her throat, and that familiar smell of rust once again lingered in her nostrils.
"I thought that taking down one of the evil sects would vent my anger, but the more I killed, the harder it was to quell the rage in my heart..."
"I retreated to seclusion with a broken sword, seeking refuge from the world to cultivate, but in the end... I still couldn't escape the killing."
"No wonder, even though I tried my best to live up to Wen Shuang's expectations, in the end, I still lost her..."
Li Zhoubai looked up at the sky, a glimmer of longing appearing in his cloudy eyes.
He suddenly grasped Yun Yanqiu's hand, his voice barely a whisper: "Little Yan, kill me."
"Master?!" Yun Yanqiu trembled violently, a wave of unease and fear washing over him, causing him to shudder uncontrollably.
"Xiao Yan, I don't want to become a demon..." Li Zhoubai choked back a sob, "If that happens... how can I face Wen Shuang?"
The stench of blood from the abscess finally exploded in Yun Yanqiu's nostrils. The wine shop under the moonlight, Lu Jiuzhong's twisted laughter, the figures of his parents falling down... all the forgotten memories swelled and surged in his mind in an instant, tearing at his nerves like venomous snakes, making his head ache terribly.
"Let's consider this... fulfilling Master's last wish, okay?"
Yun Yanqiu's pupils contracted sharply. Only then did he realize that the proud and aloof white-clad swordsman he remembered was now in such a sorry state—the blood-black darkness in Li Zhoubai's eyes had completely invaded his pupils, and demonic energy was swallowing up the last shred of clarity like a tidal wave. There was a smile on his lips, but tears were hanging in the corners of his eyes, and his faded white robe was already stained with indelible bloodstains, a shocking sight.
"Xiao Yan, it's alright."
In a daze, Yun Yanqiu saw Yunyu Creek from that day again. His sister was just like that back then, when his long sword pierced her heart, she held back her tears while forcing a smile, and her gaze towards him showed no reproach.
Then, those gentle pupils gradually blurred, losing their life force. The blood on her chest flowed slowly until it dried.
The snow fell heavier and heavier. Yun Yanqiu knelt motionless before the grave, the snow reaching above his knees, covering his shoulders, and finally turning even the tips of his hair white with frost. After a long while, a hot tear silently slid down and landed on Li Zhoubai's already cold face.
That day, a heavy snow fell on Xuanming Mountain, blanketing the land and continuing for months without stopping.
Yun Yanqiu buried Li Zhoubai beside Qin Wenshuang, and then stood guard over the two graves like a stone statue. The heavy snow buried everything in the mountains, and each breath shook off the snowflakes. He rarely moved, often sitting for days at a time, letting the snow gradually rise up to his waist.
This continued for an unknown period of time, until the heavy snow gradually subsided, and a ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds, illuminating a weary figure. When Zhao Huai-ren found him, trudging through knee-deep snow, he almost didn't recognize this "snowman." But when his gaze fell upon the new grave, all his questions turned into silence.
"How long have you been here?" Zhao Huai-ren asked, but he already knew the answer in his heart. He stepped forward, knelt heavily before the tomb, and kowtowed three times. Snow fell softly onto his clothes. Zhao Huai-ren sat cross-legged beside Yun Yanqiu: "The two elders would not want to see you like this."
He was met with a long silence. Yun Yanqiu lowered his eyes, as if he hadn't heard a thing.
"You remember everything? What happened at the distillery that night..."
Yun Yanqiu's eyelashes trembled, his gaze sweeping over the hideous scar on Zhao Huai Ren's face before quickly lowering again. He opened his mouth, but only managed a hoarse, breathy sound.
"Don't rush." Zhao Huai Ren bent one leg and casually rested his arm on his knee. "It wasn't easy finding you; I almost froze to death in the blizzard." He paused, gazing at the distant mountains shrouded in snow and mist. "This place has already become a secret realm; do you still want to stay here?"
Seeing Yun Yanqiu's vacant eyes, he continued, "I rebuilt the Lingyun Alliance on the site of the old winery. I also kept the courtyard where you lived, and there is still the longevity lock from your childhood inside."
"It's too boring to stay in this secret realm alone. Why don't you come back with me? Even if you stop cultivating in the future, you can retire in the Lingyun Alliance. Yun'er will definitely welcome you."
"Yun'er?" This unfamiliar name made Yun Yanqiu's fingertips twitch slightly.
“Ayu’s daughter, your little niece.” Zhao Huai Ren’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “Her full name is Zhao Si Yun, which I chose.” He rested his chin on one hand and said decisively, “I should have asked you for your opinion, but then one bad thing after another happened…” His voice trailed off, then turned into a cautious probing: “Is my name alright?”
Yun Yanqiu gazed at the dappled light and shadow on the snow, remaining noncommittal.
"If you feel it's not suitable, just tell me."
"……No."
"That's good." Zhao Huai-ren extended his hand, palm up. "So, are you coming back with me?"
The crisp sound of snow breaking dry branches was especially clear in the silence. Yun Yanqiu looked at the hand covered in calluses from swords, remained silent for a long time, and finally shook his head.
"No, I'll stay here."
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