Makeup Chapter 18
Ke Congzhou and his group of four bid farewell to Lao Hu the next day and were about to go down the mountain.
Luo Shun was in a state of dissipation in Sushan Hall, and happened to wander to the door with a glass of wine. Everyone saw that his inner and outer clothes were not fastened at all, and he was very unassuming in leaving them open to the wind. He saluted hastily and ran away without even looking back.
Ke Congzhou hesitated, his eyes fixed on the ground, and performed the disciple's salute in a proper manner: "Uncle Master." His right arm was still aching - that night, endless blood dripped from the "Left Sword", not only from Zhang Jun, but also from him.
Following Luo Shun's suggestion, he went to the martial arts training grounds. He was drawn to the noise coming from the hallway between the two rooms. He went to investigate and was stabbed in the arm by Zhang Jun. He couldn't see the person clearly, and while he knew it wasn't Luo Shun, he suddenly recalled that night years ago when Luo Shun threatened to kill him, and all else faded.
In his panic, he ignored his opponent's clumsy swordsmanship. After a few moves, Zhang Jun was forced to abandon his sword. Taking advantage of the narrow aisle, he dodged his sword and clung to him. In his panic, he remembered his "free" left hand and this time drew out his "right sword" with integrity. In a flash, he was unsure whether Ruan Kangxing's words had any effect on him. He released the internal energy cultivated by the sword technique, and launched a powerful "vertical and horizontal wave" that would surely amaze Old Hu.
Then, he heard the other person's throat squeezed out with great effort: "Meng, Meng, you..."
During the confrontation, his three souls and six spirits flew away to the body that was wandering around the mountains and plains, and he controlled his eyes to glance at Zhang Jun. The ripples of water lightly covered his flesh, and it didn't look like a fatal injury, but it was this blow that made him die.
Ke Congzhou looked at the ground and smiled bitterly.
Luo Shun’s lesson is indeed amazing.
He let out a deep breath and stood up. Luo Shun was also looking at him and said, "Let's go."
The tone was very casual, as if saying "get lost".
Ke Congzhou was still feeling depressed, but he wasn't that stupid. He just walked away without even saying a polite "take care".
The gate boomed twelve times, sending off a group of disciples. The earth-shaking sound set the trees rustling and birds fluttering away. Occasionally, a single bird, chirping monotonously, would alight by the shabby window of Keju.
The palm-sized shadow swayed in the bright sunlight, blinding Meng Shizhuang's eyes.
His eyes were sore, he opened and closed them, but no tears came out.
After a while, the shadow on the window disappeared, and the light quietly covered the entire window. Meng Shizhuang's eyes felt better, and he stared at one place blankly without moving. Then, his hearing slowly recovered, and the sound of the mountain gate opening came into his ears. He distinguished and heard that it was the length of the eighth path.
Lao Ju cooked a bowl of thick millet porridge and brought it into the inner room. Seeing Meng Shizhuang's condition, he was so frightened that his hands trembled, and the bowl and spoon collided with each other, making a rapid and mournful sound. Fortunately, Meng Shizhuang noticed the movement and rolled her eyes slightly.
A gleam of spirit rose in his eyes, and Lao Ju saw the vitality that had returned to him in his eyes.
Lao Ju carefully folded up his old clothes, lifted his head and neck, and fed him a bowl of porridge. Meng Shizhuang noticed Lao Ju's downcast gaze and, without waiting for Lao Ju to ask, tried to speak: "I'm fine... much better."
His voice lingered on his lips and tongue, and not only Lao Ju, but he himself couldn't hear it clearly.
But Lao Ju understood what Meng Shizhuang meant and breathed a sigh of relief.
He and Lao Hu both thought that Meng Shizhuang's injuries would require at least two or three months of recuperation before she could finally leave the mountain. But within a few days, Meng Shizhuang began to walk down the mountain, draped in her clothes and holding onto the wall as she walked.
Lao Ju wanted to help him, but he also advised: "Ah Shi, you are seriously injured, you need to rest well."
When Meng Shizhuang heard this, he would go back to his bed and lie down. Lao Ju thought he had persuaded him, but half a month later, Meng Shizhuang had already started to do his work as he pleased. When Lao Ju called him to go back while cooking porridge or boiling medicine, he would stand by the stove, smile at Lao Ju, and tell him to go back to the inner room and sit.
Only then did Lao Ju realize that he must have been truly exhausted when he had "listened to advice" before. Meng Shizhuang was now as fragile as glass, and Lao Ju couldn't force him, so he had to stay by his side.
But now Curie is full of "old, weak, sick and disabled" people, and relies on Lao Hu for everything.
Old Hu was busy. Luo Shun hadn't made any further moves since throwing Meng Shizhuang back to Keju, and it looked like he'd be relieved for the time being. The other hall masters had spontaneously sent one or two disciples to defend the place, leaving Old Hu fighting alone, unable to understand why these people were siding with Luo Shun.
The head of Renxin Hall came to persuade him, begging him to stop making trouble. Facing Lao Hu's questioning, he looked away: "Brother Hu, please don't worry about it. The mountain can't withstand the consumption of generations. Let the master's revenge end with Meng Shizhuang."
Meng Shizhuang's appearance shocked more than just Lao Hu.
Letting this evil spirit continue to struggle would be a repeat of the past. His father had killed a group of people, Luo Shun had turned the tables and killed another group. Was he going to sit back and watch, waiting for Meng Shizhuang to turn the tables and establish another "one-man show"?
Their generation has begged Meng Shizhuang's father and Luo Shun, so do they have to continue begging and save their lives from the evil spirits again and again?
Lao Hu couldn't find his companions and was busy trying to make excuses. He didn't dare show up, so he just put down the things and ran away. Meng Shizhuang actually accepted them honestly. Even before leaving the mountain this time, he would curse and complain when he accepted the things. In short, he always felt that he was being taken advantage of.
Now there is not a word left.
Not just to Lao Hu. To Lao Ju, he would nod and utter a crude sound, or smile tiredly, and could not say a word for several days.
Lao Ju was worried and couldn't sleep at night. He tossed and turned for a long time. Meng Shizhuang, who was beside him, sat up and asked him in a low voice: "Where do you feel uncomfortable?"
The lights in Keju's inner room were off. Before bed this morning, Meng Shizhuang half-opened the window. The moon hung high in the sky, letting in a touch of the bright, pure color of "equality for all." Lao Ju lay on his back, looking at Meng Shizhuang's thin, pointed chin, so pale it was almost transparent. His eyes suddenly reddened, and he grasped Meng Shizhuang's hand.
“Ah…”
Lao Ju didn't know what to say.
Meng Shizhuang acted as if everything was normal. Too normal, in fact. She hadn't told him what happened down the mountain, and she didn't show any pain during the dressing change. Her calmness frightened him.
He couldn't speak. If he felt any more uncomfortable, Meng Shizhuang was powerless to help. As usual, he got up and scooped a bowl of warm water from the stove outside for him. Meng Shizhuang knew Lao Ju's worries, and it was difficult for him to tell Lao Ju about his current state of mind.
Just like the gloom and resentment that had etched itself into his face since childhood, every word he spoke, every gesture of defiance he made, subtly and unceremoniously dissipated the emotions that bound him. As one grew, the other receded, the resentment was swallowed from the outside into his heart, and then released again.
Therefore, no matter how angry he was, he did not do as he had thought and go around the mountain with his sword to kill people.
At this moment, he was like a piece of bullhide that was gathering air, as if any word he said would leak out, so he subconsciously closed his mouth.
Meng Shizhuang lay beside Lao Ju, thinking for a long time, and then said the same thing: "I'm fine, I'm much better now."
Lao Ju reached out and pulled the quilt for him, and responded softly.
Meng Shizhuang recovered at an astonishing rate. A few days later, he was back to his pre-injury self, frequently leaving the house at night. Lao Ju went out to check on him, but Meng Shizhuang was just sitting cross-legged in the yard. When Lao Ju tried to persuade him, he replied, "It's too stuffy in here. I'm going out for some fresh air."
After coaxing Lao Ju away, Meng Shizhuang pushed aside the weeds in front of him that had grown to a height of one meter.
Dense scratches were visible, marking the times the mountain gate opened and closed. When the leader of Qianji Hall was still alive, patrols on the mountain were not as lax as they are today, and they were wary of the young Meng Shizhuang. Back then, disciples would stand guard fifty steps above the mountain gate to prevent Meng Shizhuang from approaching.
Wherever he couldn't see, Meng Shizhuang could only rely on his ears to figure things out.
At first, he lacked patience, and throughout the year he would draw dozens of bars sporadically, never completing the whole process, let alone discovering a pattern. Later, when he had completed the whole process, not a single bar was repeated. This led him to believe that perhaps the gate's mechanism had nothing to do with the length of time it remained open.
Until the old master of Qianji Hall passed away.
He walked the mountain for three months, sword in hand, as usual, reverting to this clumsy practice. The ever-changing mysteries were no longer to be found; each of the twelve gates was an identical cycle. He was certain this was the same as the time of the clepsydra. Otherwise, the twelve gates were identical, so why would they open at different times?
All that's missing now is the valve.
Meng Shizhuang closed her eyes, and the guilty expression of the disciple who operated the switch when she went up the mountain flashed through her mind.
The night breeze rustled the weeds around him. Meng Shizhuang looked up, peering through the gaps in the weeds. Although he was on Sujian Mountain, he wasn't even at the peak. From here, he looked like there were peaks above it, as if surrounded by mountains. Trapped here, he'd barely be able to breathe for the rest of his life.
Meng Shizhuang slowly lay down.
The next day, it was exactly one month since Meng Shizhuang returned to the mountains from Fanli Village.
He woke up in the weeds and stood up to look. The door had been kicked down and lay there, but there was no door to block it. He could tell at a glance that the guards outside had not yet changed their shift. The person outside looked at him, frowned, and quickly looked away.
Meng Shizhuang went back into the house.
At night, he squatted under the stove, scraping out the black ash from burnt branches. He then moved aside a few palm-sized stones and uncovered a dagger and a broken knife hidden within. Meng Shizhuang pulled an old belt from his bosom, peeled off the medicated cloth from his right palm, and, along with the dagger, wrapped it around each finger one by one.
But outside, the two disciples guarding the place were bored.
They were from the Purple Gold Hall, temporarily drafted in by their senior brothers from the Renxin Hall to fill in for them. A patrol had just passed by a quarter of an hour ago, and since no one would have seen them slacking off, they agreed to each rest against the wall for a while.
The disciples who did not get a turn to rest were also feeling a little sleepy. They walked around Keju with swords in hand, hoping to dispel their sleepiness.
He caught a faint sound, but ignored it, thinking it was the wind. He turned a corner and suddenly noticed a dark figure on the ground! Before he could turn around or draw his sword, the ghostly figure, who had appeared out of nowhere, had already made his move.
With a dull thud, his head was supported by a hand and he slid softly to the ground.
The other disciple who was on guard slipped into a deeper sleep while half asleep and half awake.
Midnight.
The door of the mechanism room next to the first mountain gate was quietly pushed open.
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