Chapter 157
The raging fire burned for seven days and seven nights.
The flames licked away at all the filth and sin in the valley. Thick black smoke blotted out the sky, and even from dozens of miles away, the enormous column of smoke, seemingly connecting heaven and earth, could be seen. The air was filled with a pungent smell of burning and some indescribable stench, as if evil spirits had been completely burned away.
The valley echoed with the occasional booming of collapsing buildings and the muffled thuds of the remaining evil formations being detonated. By dusk on the seventh day, the fire had gradually subsided, leaving only vast expanses of scorched earth and smoldering ruins, like a huge, ugly scar branded onto the earth.
For Su Zhelan, these seven days were another form of torment and redemption.
Without a moment's rest, he threw himself into the endless work of post-incident care and treatment, almost as if torturing himself. He stayed almost constantly by the wounded soldiers' camp, following Master Su Yan day and night, dealing with the seemingly never-ending wounded.
His thin figure moved through the tents filled with the stench of blood, herbs, and painful groans. His face was almost translucent with paleness, the dark circles under his eyes were frighteningly deep, and his lips were cracked and peeling from dehydration. His movements remained precise and efficient: cleaning wounds, stitching, applying medicine, bandaging, decocting medicine, recording pulses... every step was meticulous, his calmness bordering on mechanical.
But occasionally, his mind would wander, and his hand holding the medicine bowl would tremble slightly uncontrollably. Sometimes, when changing the dressings of the wounded, seeing certain gruesome wounds or smelling the strong stench of blood, his breathing would suddenly become rapid, and his eyes would momentarily lose focus, as if he were being dragged into a vortex of terrifying memories. He needed to exert great effort to steady his mind and force himself to continue what he was doing. With this near-limitless labor, he frantically squeezed out every last bit of his energy, not giving his brain any spare time to recall the bloody scene deep inside the cave, to touch upon the fear and madness that almost tore him apart.
Master Su Yan witnessed all of this, filled with worry. He repeatedly tried to persuade Su Zhelan to rest, even forcibly taking the pestle from his hand and scolding him for risking his life. But Su Zhelan always stubbornly shook his head, his voice hoarse yet unusually calm, saying, "Master, I'm not tired, I can still do it." There was an almost obsessive persistence in his eyes, as if something would completely collapse if he stopped.
By the seventh day, the large-scale cleanup and treatment work had basically come to an end, and the condition of the seriously injured had stabilized. Su Yan looked at Su Zhelan's swaying figure, as if she was about to faint at any moment, yet still forcing herself to organize the medicinal herbs, and finally could not hold back any longer.
He sighed deeply and whispered to Gu Linzhao, who was helping him, "Go and call Sheng Xuan here. We can't let him keep torturing himself like this!"
Gu Linzhao quickly found Sheng Xuan, who was assisting in counting the spoils of war and prisoners. When Sheng Xuan heard that it was Master Su Yan who was urgently looking for him, his heart skipped a beat, and he dropped what he was doing and rushed over in a hurry.
Upon entering the wounded soldiers' camp, Sheng Xuan saw Su Zhelan squatting on the ground, sorting medicinal herbs with her back to him. Her figure was frighteningly thin, her shoulders slightly slumped, exuding an indescribable weariness and fragility.
Master Su Yan gave Sheng Xuan a wink, lowered his voice, and said in a heavy tone, "Look at him! If this continues, even an iron body will break down! He's been invaded by evil energy, his mind is overexerted, and his old injuries haven't healed... He's pushing himself to the limit! You need to find a way to get him back to the General's Mansion! He needs to rest completely, otherwise, the consequences will be dire!"
Sheng Xuan's heart clenched instantly. How could he not be worried? For the past seven days, he had been so busy he barely had time to breathe, but whenever he had a spare moment, his eyes would involuntarily search for Su Zhelan's figure. Every time he saw her working so hard, it felt like his heart was being pricked by needles. He knew Su Zhelan was using work to numb herself, but he was even more afraid that Su Zhelan would completely exhaust herself.
He took a deep breath, strode up behind Su Zhelan, and said in a very soft but firm voice, "Su Zhelan."
Su Zhelan paused, not turning around, but whispering, "There are still a few herbs left to distribute..."
Sheng Xuan reached out and grabbed his cold wrist without giving him a chance to speak, pulling him up from the ground and interrupting him: "The work here is almost done, Mr. Su can handle it. You should go back."
Su Zhelan instinctively tried to break free, her brows furrowing: "I'm fine..."
"This is a military order!" Sheng Xuan's voice suddenly rose a few decibels, carrying an unusual sternness, but deep in his eyes was heartache and anxiety. "You are in very poor condition right now and need to go back to the manor to rest immediately! This is for your own good and for the sake of the overall situation! Do you want to wait until you collapse here and make Master Su Yan and everyone else worry about you?!"
Su Zhelan was taken aback by Sheng Xuan's sudden firmness. He looked up and met Sheng Xuan's eyes, which were filled with worry, anxiety, and an unyielding refusal. He then glanced at Master Su Yan beside him, whose gaze was equally disapproving and worried. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but a strong sense of dizziness suddenly struck him, making him sway and his face instantly turn even paler.
Sheng Xuan immediately steadied him, her tone softening but becoming even more resolute: "Listen to me, go back. Get a good night's sleep. This place... really doesn't need you anymore."
Sheng Xuan spoke those last words with some difficulty, but he knew that this was the only way to make Su Zhelan let go of her obsession.
Su Zhelan fell silent. He lowered his eyelashes, concealing the complex emotions surging within his eyes. The prolonged tension and exhaustion seemed to find an outlet at this moment; a tremendous sense of fatigue washed over him like a tidal wave, almost overwhelming him. He was indeed... close to his limit.
After a long silence, he finally nodded very slightly, his voice so low it was almost inaudible: "...Okay."
Sheng Xuan breathed a sigh of relief, immediately nodded to Master Su Yan, and then, half-supporting and half-carrying Su Zhelan, who was leaning almost her entire weight on him, turned and walked out. He summoned his personal guards, prepared a carriage, and personally helped Su Zhelan into the carriage.
The carriage slowly started moving, leaving the still busy but gradually calming camp and heading towards the general's mansion in the city. Inside the carriage, Su Zhelan leaned against the soft cushions, his eyes closed, his eyelashes casting fragile shadows on his pale cheeks, his breathing gradually becoming even and long. He finally couldn't hold on any longer, and with the rhythmic swaying of the wheels, he drifted into a deep sleep.
Sheng Xuan sat beside him, carefully letting him lean on his shoulder. Looking at his still slightly furrowed brows and dark circles under his eyes in his sleep, he felt a mix of emotions. He pulled over a thin blanket and gently covered Su Zhelan with it.
He knew that physical exhaustion could be recovered with rest, but the wounds of the heart... might only be beginning to show.
The carriage drove into the quiet general's mansion in the darkness of night. No words were spoken along the way.
Su Zhelan remained leaning against the carriage wall, his eyes closed, as if he were asleep. But Sheng Xuan knew he was awake; his overly tense shoulders and the occasional slight trembling of his eyelashes betrayed his inner turmoil.
Sheng Xuan dared not disturb him, and even deliberately kept her breathing soft. She simply stood silently by his side, her gaze never leaving Su Zhelan's pale profile.
The carriage stopped outside the Shuyu Courtyard where Su Zhelan lived. Sheng Xuan jumped out of the carriage first, turned around and carefully reached out to help Su Zhelan.
Su Zhelan opened his eyes, his gaze somewhat vacant, as if he hadn't completely detached himself from his thoughts. He didn't reach out to help Sheng Xuan, but instead stiffly got out of the car, his steps unsteady as he walked towards the courtyard gate.
Sheng Xuan's hand paused in mid-air for a moment, then he casually withdrew it, quickly followed, and pushed open the courtyard gate for him.
The courtyard's hot spring pool was filled with steam, and the warm, humid air was overwhelming, yet it did nothing to dispel the coldness and silence surrounding Su Zhelan. He walked straight to his bedroom, indifferent to everything around him.
Sheng Xuan followed behind him, looking at his thin back, feeling extremely anxious, but not knowing how to speak.
Just as Su Zhelan was about to step into the room, he suddenly stopped. He didn't turn around, his voice low and hoarse, almost inaudible, with a hint of barely perceptible urgency: "...Those files...where are they...the ones you promised me?"
Sheng Xuan's heart clenched. He certainly remembered that the blood-stained files, risked to be brought out from the cult altar, were currently being tightly sealed in the military hangar, awaiting expert decryption and processing. But looking at Su Zhelan's current state, how could he possibly allow him to access those things immediately?
"...Don't worry," Sheng Xuan forced his voice to sound calm and reliable, "I've already ordered people to keep them safe. They're in the hangar, very secure. You...you should rest well and get some rest. Tomorrow, I'll have someone send them all to you first thing tomorrow morning, okay?" He was trying to stall for time.
Su Zhelan remained silent for a moment, his shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly, as if he had accepted the arrangement, or perhaps he simply didn't have the strength to ask any further questions. He gave a soft "hmm" and pushed open the door to the bedroom.
Sheng Xuan followed him inside, quickly lighting the candles, making the bed, and checking that the windows were closed tightly. He bustled about, trying to find something to do to mask his inner unease and worry.
Su Zhelan stood quietly in the center of the room, staring blankly at the flickering candlelight, like a delicate jade sculpture that had lost its soul.
"Um...you should rest well," Sheng Xuan finally finished his work, stood at the door, rubbed his hands together, and spoke with a deliberately relaxed tone.
"I...I still have to go to the main camp; I have some military affairs to attend to. You...you shouldn't think about anything; just get some sleep." After saying that, he almost fled the room, quickly leaving and gently closing the door behind him.
But he never left.
He leaned against the cold door, slowly slid down to sit on the stone steps of the porch, pricked up his ears, and listened intently to any sounds coming from inside. The night wind blew through the courtyard, bringing with it the faint sound of a water clock in the distance, making the surroundings even more silent.
Inside the room, Su Zhelan did not lie down immediately as Sheng Xuan had hoped.
He stood there for a long time, until his legs went numb. Then, he slowly walked to the bedside, sat down, but felt no sleepiness whatsoever. His body was extremely exhausted, but his mind was unusually clear, or rather, filled with a jumble of chaotic and sharp emotions.
Was his revenge complete? Yes. The cult leader who tormented him and destroyed everything in his life was personally... brutally murdered by him. The cult was also reduced to ashes. He should feel relieved, shouldn't he?
But... why does my heart feel so empty, like a gaping hole letting in a blast of cold wind? Why do I keep seeing not the exhilarating feeling of revenge, but the images of my parents' gruesome deaths, the despair of being imprisoned and tortured, the sensation of that dagger piercing my flesh again and again, the splattering blood, and that twisted, terrified face...?
He raised his hands, hands that had just saved lives and were also...stained with blood. He suddenly felt that his hands were incredibly dirty, as was he, inside and out, and could never be cleaned.
His family was destroyed... He felt like a useless piece of trash, only able to watch helplessly as everything unfolded. Even his revenge was a pathetic mess, like that of a madman who had lost control. What right did he have to feel relieved? What right did he have to live? He should have died with his family in that catastrophe...
A profound, self-loathing grief and emptiness overwhelmed him like a cold tide. He wanted to cry, but his eyes were dry and aching; he wanted to laugh, but his lips were too heavy to move. He sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, his whole being swallowed by a silent, immense contradiction and self-torture, as if trapped in a labyrinth with no way out.
Outside the door, Sheng Xuan pressed his forehead against the cold door panel, his eyes tightly shut. Although he couldn't see, he could clearly feel the almost tangible pain and despair emanating from within. Su Zhelan's suppressed breathing, the faint inhalations that seemed to come from immense agony, pierced his heart like needles.
His fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. He desperately wanted to rush in, to hold the person curled up in agony tightly in his arms, to tell him it wasn't his fault, to tell him it was all over, to tell him he was still there for him…
But he couldn't.
He knew that what Su Zhelan needed at this moment was perhaps not comfort or disturbance. The deep-seated trauma and pain could only be slowly chewed and digested by himself; no outsider could take his place.
Shengxuan simply lowered her head even further, burying all her worries and heartache deep inside, like the most silent rock, stubbornly guarding the outside, telling the person inside in this way: You are not alone. I am here. No matter how long it takes, I will wait for you to come out.
The night was long, and the candlelight inside and outside the house flickered, reflecting two equally heavy but unspeakable thoughts.
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