Gu Chengming was woken by the pain.
To be precise, it was that numb, tingling sensation of bone slowly knitting itself back together inside his right arm that dragged him up out of his stupor.
The Hundred Emperor truly lived up to its name as a top-tier body-refinement art. Even though Gu Chengming hadn't actively circulated it, it still left a current of power constantly, ceaselessly mending his right arm.
Gu Chengming opened his eyes. An unfamiliar ceiling...
All right, that trope's a little old.
He turned his head to look. Fu Xiaoxiao had fallen asleep slumped over the small table by the bed, half her face buried in her arm, the other half exposed, lips slightly parted.
Her hand rested on Gu Chengming's left wrist, and a faint layer of Red Dust Qi still lingered on her fingertips—clearly she'd been using the Red Dust Art all this while to help regulate his injuries.
From the way she was slumped there asleep, she must have kept watch the entire night.
Gu Chengming didn't move. He simply watched her quietly for a while, and then Fu Xiaoxiao's nose scrunched up, and she mumbled in her sleep: "Not allowed to leave..."
Gu Chengming couldn't help but smile. He gathered up the fingers she'd rested on his wrist and tucked them in more comfortably so her grip would sit easier.
Fu Xiaoxiao seemed to sense something. Her brow smoothed out, the corners of her mouth curved up unconsciously, and then she sank back into deep sleep.
Su Qiuzhi came the very next day after Gu Chengming woke.
As always, she didn't use the front gate—she climbed over the wall.
After landing she patted the dust off her clothes, strode over to Gu Chengming's bedside, and tossed a bundle onto the table.
"Are you healed yet?"
"Still recovering."
Su Qiuzhi swept a glance over his bandaged right arm, her gaze lingering there for two breaths. After a moment of silence, she suddenly spoke:
"That night—I saw everything."
Gu Chengming's movements paused slightly.
"But don't worry, I didn't tell a soul."
"Many thanks."
"No need to thank me." Su Qiuzhi took a sip of tea. "You've already got enough secrets. One more won't make a difference."
After she said that, she fell silent again, as though brewing up something.
Then she stood, braced both hands on the edge of the table, and leaned in closer.
The exact same motion as last time.
"So."
She stared into Gu Chengming's eyes and said, one word at a time:
"When will your injuries be healed?"
Gu Chengming got the faint sense that something was off. "...Why do you ask?"
"You promised me." The tips of Su Qiuzhi's ears reddened again, but her gaze was even more resolute than last time. "You said, once the sect's affairs were settled, we'd——"
She stopped, swallowing the second half of the sentence, but the meaning had already been conveyed with perfect clarity.
So you really did remember, Gu Chengming thought.
"Uh... the injury still isn't healed. Let me recover a few more days——"
"Fine, I'll come back in a few days."
...
In the end, word of this reached Fu Xiaoxiao's ears after all.
To be precise, it happened when Su Qiuzhi climbed over the wall into the Quiet Contemplation Court for the fourth time, and was caught red-handed by a passing Fu Xiaoxiao.
The scene at that moment was quite the spectacle——
Su Qiuzhi had one leg thrown over the top of the wall, while Fu Xiaoxiao stood right at its base, head tilted up, watching her with a blank expression.
The two of them stared at each other for five breaths.
The air froze.
Su Qiuzhi was the first to break the silence. "...Greetings, Sect Master Fu."
Fu Xiaoxiao drew from her sleeve a document stamped with the great seal of the Acting Sect Master, and slapped it—smack—onto the top of the wall, right beside the leg Su Qiuzhi had straddled over it.
"In view of your outstanding performance during this crisis, I have decided to entrust you with an important responsibility. Effective immediately, you shall be in charge of coordinating all cleanup work following this Sorrow-and-Joy calamity."
Su Qiuzhi picked up the document and gave it a glance, her face gradually changing.
The scope of the work included, but was not limited to: individually inspecting the emotional recovery of every disciple in the sect, compiling a repair list for damaged buildings, tallying the amount of spirit stones consumed, drafting a cleanup report to the Great Qian court, and——
"Assisting Elder Kurong in organizing all of the Harmonious Joy Sect's administrative records related to Yun Ni from the past three years."
Su Qiuzhi swallowed.
"Any problems?" Fu Xiaoxiao asked with a smile, one so amiable it was downright bone-chilling.
"None." Su Qiuzhi gritted her teeth.
"Very good." Fu Xiaoxiao clapped her hands. "Assume your post at once!"
Su Qiuzhi swung down from the top of the wall and had no choice but to slink off in defeat, thinking, damn it, why do I have to run into the Harmonious Joy Sect's higher-ups at a time like this.
Fu Xiaoxiao watched her retreating figure, the corner of her mouth curling up ever so slightly.
Trying to steal a man from me? I'll work you to death.
And so Su Qiuzhi's nightmare began.
From the very next day, she found her schedule packed to the brim, busy from dawn till dusk with not so much as a moment to catch her breath.
Every time she finally managed to finish a day's work and started thinking she might take advantage of the moonlight to hop the wall into the Quiet Contemplation Court, she would inevitably receive a fresh urgent assignment—and every single one bore the great seal of the Acting Sect Master, along with a line of delicate, elegant handwriting: "This matter is urgent. Handle it through the night."
The first time, Su Qiuzhi thought it was a coincidence.
The second time, she thought something was fishy.
The third time, Fu Xiaoxiao had even drawn a smiley face on the official document, and Su Qiuzhi finally understood.
"That damned privileged dog!!"
Su Qiuzhi ground her teeth in fury.
She was being targeted! That Fu Xiaoxiao was, on the surface, entrusting her with grave responsibilities, but in reality she was finding every conceivable way to make sure she'd never have the time to go find Gu Chengming!
The moment she thought of dual cultivation, official duties came piling in. The moment she freed up some time, a rush assignment arrived.
Just when she'd finally cleared everything on her plate, Elder Kurong happened to need her to come organize the underground archives first thing in the morning.
Su Qiuzhi flipped through her work log for the past several days and discovered her workload was roughly four times that of a normal disciple of the same rank.
And there wasn't a single task she could find grounds to refuse——after all, these were genuinely things that needed doing for the cleanup, and she genuinely was one of the few disciples in the sect who both knew the inside story and had the ability to carry it out.
That damned privileged dog! Abusing her position as Acting Sect Master for personal gain! Using public office to settle private scores! Bullying the honest common folk!
Just you wait! Once I've finished all this garbage work, I'm going to see this dual cultivation through to the very end! Even if you crank the cleanup workload up tenfold, don't think you can stop me, Su Qiuzhi!
"Not a single one of the Harmonious Joy Sect's old geezers is any good!" she said in a fit of temper.
[?]
The consciousness in her mind chose that very moment to voice its opinion.
"You too!"
[?!]
The consciousness in her mind took the hit as an innocent bystander.
What's it got to do with me?!
This venerable old senior of the Harmonious Joy Sect felt utterly wronged.
Three days later.
His right arm was still sore and weak, but the damage to his meridians had been repaired seventy or eighty percent by the Hundred Bones Resonance—all that remained was to nurse the rest back slowly with time.
What truly surprised Gu Chengming was his own cultivation realm: he had already broken through to the second layer of the Third Realm.
And this breakthrough owed much to the Yin-Yang Fish, which, in the course of repairing his meridians, had refilled the foundation of his spiritual power with pure yin and yang qi, thereby resolving the hidden danger of his previously unstable realm.
Gu Chengming carefully took stock of it all.
That one punch had poured out every last bit of the unstable Red Dust Qi within his body, and the Yin-Yang Fish, seizing the opportunity while mending his meridians, had used its own source power to lay down the foundation anew.
A new second layer of the Third Realm, steady as bedrock.
The Yin-Yang Fish's care for him had long since exceeded the bounds of mere interest.
[The Zhouli Heavenly Harmony Righteous Heart Method spoke approvingly: Good. To safeguard the safety of an entire sect through your own strength alone—truly an act of great righteousness. Yet now that the deed is done, remember to remain humble and self-restrained. Do not take pride in your merits.]
[The Zhouli Heavenly Harmony Righteous Heart Method's favorability has reached its maximum.]
Oh right, there's still Zhouli's bond quest that hasn't unlocked yet.
Gu Chengming fell into thought.
And meanwhile [the Yin-Yang Creation Strategy also praised: Both the pure-love route and the harem route are advancing steadily, the two lines proceeding in parallel without conflict. This is the most ideal direction for the plot to take.]
The cleanup work unfolded in an orderly fashion over the following days.
Although the overwhelming majority of disciples had no idea what exactly had happened that night, the vague understanding that "something terrifying came, and then somebody smashed it to pieces" was already enough to bring about a subtle shift in the atmosphere across all of Red Dust Mountain.
Though the memories of being eroded by sorrow that night had grown much hazier afterward, quite a few disciples slept poorly in the days that followed and were distracted during cultivation.
The already-rampant topic of the Dream Sword Cultivator hit a new peak after this incident. Building upon her forty-ninth version of the portrait, Qīng Luó added a new piece, "Painting of the Sword Cultivator Guarding the Mountain," its style shifting from the earlier "chance encounter in a dream" to "back turned, shielding against the foe." It's said that after the first painting was finished, the disciples who crowded around all but trampled the threshold of Qīng Luó's studio to dust.
Even more absurd was that people had started writing storybooks.
The storybook was titled A Sword Comes to Red Dust Mountain, and when Elder Kurong saw it, she was not okay in the slightest.
With a blank expression she read aloud: "The sword cultivator drew her into his embrace, his low voice sounding beside her ear: Don't be afraid, I'm here."
Kurong shut the storybook and closed her eyes for a moment.
"Find me whoever wrote this rubbish, and have them copy out the Harmonious Joy Sect Rules a hundred times as punishment."
"Reporting, Elder." The disciple beside her weakly raised a hand. "There are thirty people who wrote this. It was a collaborative work."
Kurong: "..."
"Then punish them all together!"
…
As for the instigator of this whole affair, Gu Chengming's condition could be summed up in one word.
——Lying down.
It wasn't that his injuries were all that severe; with the Hundred Bones Resonance's restorative ability plus the gift from the Yin-Yang Fish, his rate of recovery far outstripped that of ordinary people.
It was mainly that Fu Xiaoxiao wouldn't let him get up. "If the injury isn't healed, then lie down."
This was a line Fu Xiaoxiao said at least three times a day.
In the morning, when Gu Chengming wanted to get up and stretch his muscles, Fu Xiaoxiao pressed him back down: "If the injury isn't healed, then lie down."
At noon, when Gu Chengming wanted to go to the Quiet Contemplation Court to fetch some of his belongings, Fu Xiaoxiao blocked the doorway: "If the injury isn't healed, then lie down."
In the evening, when Gu Chengming said he wanted to go out for some fresh air, Fu Xiaoxiao looked up at him: "If—the—injury—isn't—healed—then—lie—down."
Under such circumstances, the Hundred Emperor assumed it was because that punch of his had simply been too forceful.
[With a slightly guilty conscience it consoled: Heavenly Emperor Gu is gravely wounded, yet still the center of everyone's attention, with a fair beauty by his side.]
[Truly worthy of Heavenly Emperor Gu! Wounded in the right place! Wounded beautifully!]
What on earth does "wounded beautifully" even mean?
On the fifth day of his recovery, a communication jade slip from the Capital was passed on to Gu Chengming by Xu Huayi. The slip was engraved with the crest of the Night-Watch Bureau, and its spiritual power imprint showed the sender to be Zhou Qingmu.
Gu Chengming channeled spiritual power into it, the jade slip lit up with a faint glow, and Zhou Qingmu's voice rang out.
"Chengming, I've read the detailed report on this trip to the Harmonious Joy Sect. Well done."
"Facing an avatar of one of the Eternal Life Sect's Eight Venerables alone, slaying with a Third Realm body an evil creature at the peak of the Fourth Realm, and at the same time preserving the lives of over a thousand Harmonious Joy Sect disciples and the dignity of the Great Qian—this merit, the Night-Watch Bureau will not forget, and neither will the Great Qian."
"In view of your outstanding performance in this mission, as well as the merits you've accumulated in a series of cases in the Capital before this, following internal deliberation within the Night-Watch Bureau, you are hereby formally appointed as Deputy Commander of the Night-Watch Bureau."
"The letter of appointment will be delivered through official channels shortly. At that time you'll need to make a trip back to the Capital in person, to go through the formalities."
"No rush. See to your recovery first."
The glow faded, and the room fell quiet once more.
Gu Chengming held that jade slip and sat on the bed for a while.
Deputy Commander of the Night-Watch Bureau—and it hadn't even been two years since he'd joined the Bureau.
[The Zhouli Heavenly Harmony Righteous Heart Method spoke up at the right moment: The position of Deputy Commander carries heavy responsibility and great power. Chengming, bear in mind the principle that "with great power comes great peril," and conduct yourself with even greater prudence.]
[The Flowing Cloud, Moon-Following Sword Art, for once, surfaced to say: Isn't Deputy Commander just a wage-earner? Don't celebrate too soon.]
Having said that, it retreated back and said nothing more.
——Every single time it's like this: few words, and venomous ones at that.
[The Red Dust Phantom Body Formula spoke last: Congratulations, Fellow Daoist Gu, but the most important matter at hand is not this promotion. For now, we still need to gather more information regarding the Eternal Life Sect.]
This external brain really is handy, Gu Chengming thought.
Just as the Red Dust Phantom Body Formula said, the Eternal Life Sect's Sorrow was only one-third of a whole. He had smashed one piece; that left "Joy" and "Stillness."
And according to the intelligence Xu Huayi had provided, Sorrow-and-Joy was merely one of the Eternal Life Sect's Eight Venerables.
This time it was the Harmonious Joy Sect. What about next time?
He had to be fully prepared—at the very least, he needed a way to crush Sorrow-and-Joy head-on without relying on the Yin-Yang Fish's power.
Fu Xiaoxiao learned of the news not long after Gu Chengming received the jade slip, and her reaction was rather subtle.
First she froze for a moment, then let out an "Oh," then, pretending not to care, picked up her teacup and took a sip—but the teacup was empty.
The expression on her face as she set down the empty teacup was very complicated.
"Deputy Commander, huh."
"Mm."
"So... does that mean you're going back to the Capital?"
As she said this, she worked hard to keep her tone level, but the final syllable drifted uncontrollably upward.
"Director Zhou said there's no rush, and to go back once I've recovered."
Fu Xiaoxiao's shoulders visibly relaxed.
"That's good then." She lowered her head, pretending to tidy the medicine bottles on the table. "The injury isn't healed yet, after all. You'll need to recover at least another half a month."
Gu Chengming said, somewhat amused: "But Elder Jingxin said it'll be fully healed in ten days."
"That's because Jingxin doesn't understand the severity of an injury like yours."
Fu Xiaoxiao talked utter nonsense with a completely straight face: "How could ten days be enough? Twenty at the very least. No—a month. As Acting Sect Master, I bear responsibility for a guest's injuries. I must ensure you've fully recovered before I can let you leave."
Gu Chengming looked at her.
Being stared at like this, the tips of Fu Xiaoxiao's ears began to flush again, but she wouldn't yield an inch: "One month."
"All right."
"Yay!"
Only after blurting out those two syllables did Fu Xiaoxiao realize she'd given herself away. She jerked her head aside, picked up that empty teacup, and took another sip of nonexistent tea.
…
The day of Gu Chengming's departure from the Harmonious Joy Sect was set for a month later.
On the surface, Fu Xiaoxiao accepted this fact, and even took the initiative to help him pack his luggage, wearing the air of "As Acting Sect Master, I must see off a guest with proper dignity."
But that afternoon, she did something extremely out of character.
She went to find Jingxin.
Elder Jingxin's residence was a bamboo hut on the eastern slope of Red Dust Mountain. Fu Xiaoxiao stood at the door of the hut, took a deep breath, made to knock but then drew her hand back—and repeated this three times.
The door opened from within. Jingxin looked at the Acting Sect Master standing at the door with her hand raised in midair, and tilted her head slightly.
"Senior Sister Fu?"
"Jingxin."
Fu Xiaoxiao cleared her throat, trying hard to make her tone sound as if she were discussing official business: "I have some questions about cultivation, and I'd like to consult you."
"Questions about cultivation?" Jingxin turned aside to let her in, a trace of curiosity in her voice. "Please, Senior Sister, go ahead."
Fu Xiaoxiao sat down on the cushion and took the tea Jingxin handed her, her hand trembling a little, the tea nearly sloshing out from her shaking.
"So it's like this." She stared at the tea leaves in the cup, her voice growing quieter and quieter: "I've been studying some... deeper applications of the Red Dust Art lately."
"Mm."
"The kind that involves two people, the interaction of spiritual power..."
"Mm."
"You know, the harmony of yin and yang, dual cultivation—isn't that the Harmonious Joy Sect's specialty—"
"Mm."
"So I just wanted to ask, is there any sort of, well..."
"Any method that would leave a deeper impression on the other person?"
The bamboo hut was silent for five breaths.
Jingxin looked at this Fish-Warden Elder before her, over four hundred years old yet fidgeting like a girl of sixteen, fingers twisting the hem of her clothes, ear-tips flushed red, gaze flitting about too timid to meet anyone's eyes—and understood at once.
After all, she was a senior elder of the Harmonious Joy Sect. What manner of expression had she not seen?
Fu Xiaoxiao's lips said "deeper applications of the Red Dust Art," but that look of wishing she could curl herself up into a ball made it unmistakably clear: she wanted to give the one she loved an unforgettable night before he left.
A complex emotion welled up in Jingxin's heart, mostly one of gladness.
She knew Fu Xiaoxiao far too well. Over a century ago her Dao foundation had shattered, and ever since she had struggled to hold on in the role of Fish-Warden Elder, pouring all her heart and energy into the Yin-Yang Fish and sect affairs—never once had anyone seen her harbor feelings for another person.
But now? This person who had once turned up her nose at love was sitting before her, stammering out a question about how to perform better during dual cultivation.
Jingxin suddenly felt a slight sting in her nose.
"Senior Sister."
Jingxin's voice turned exceptionally gentle. She rose, walked to the bookshelf, and took down from the very top shelf a sandalwood box coated in a thin layer of dust.
"What's this?"
"Some insights passed down by word of mouth through the sect's generations of elders."
Jingxin set the box before Fu Xiaoxiao, a knowing smile at the corner of her mouth: "Not the kind written down in the classics—the truly practical kind."
She opened the box. Inside were several rolls of yellowed silk, the handwriting on each different, clearly the work of different hands.
"This roll is about controlling the rhythm of spiritual resonance. Beginners tend to be too hasty, which only backfires."
Jingxin unrolled them for her one by one, her tone patient and meticulous.
"This roll is about the use of Red Dust Qi. During dual cultivation, using Red Dust Qi to guide the other's perceptions can make both parties' sensations far more profound."
"And this roll..." Jingxin hesitated, but handed it over anyway: "is about setting the mood."
Fu Xiaoxiao took the silk, lowered her head to look, and was struck dumb with astonishment: "Th-this is way too..."
"Senior Sister." Jingxin gently pressed down on her hand as she tried to stuff the silk back, her gaze earnest: "Since you came to ask, it means you truly care about this person."
"What the Harmonious Joy Sect cultivates is the Great Dao of the Red Dust. And what is the foundation of the Great Dao of the Red Dust? It is sincerity of heart."
"As long as it comes from a sincere heart, there's nothing to be ashamed of."
Fu Xiaoxiao lowered her head, then stuffed all those rolls of silk into her sleeve, stood up, and walked out without looking back.
"Thanks!"
Jingxin watched her retreating figure, shook her head, and picked up her teacup to take a sip.
...
After Fu Xiaoxiao returned to her own room, she shut the doors and windows tightly, and only then dared to spread out those rolls of silk and study them carefully.
"Do people really do this kind of thing..." she mumbled under her breath, turned to the next page, and her pupils contracted sharply.
"People actually really do do this kind of thing!"
She flung the silk over her face, and after calming down for a moment, picked it up again to keep reading.
This repeated for about an hour.
In the end, Fu Xiaoxiao crawled out from under the covers, took a deep breath, and then opened the very bottom layer of the sandalwood box Jingxin had given her—there was a small brocade pouch there too, one Jingxin had slipped to her separately, saying it was "a supporting prop for setting the mood."
Fu Xiaoxiao opened the pouch and tipped out a pair of fuzzy things.
She lifted them up to look. A pair of exquisitely crafted cat-ear hair ornaments, equipped with spiritual-power sensing functions.
The pouch also contained a small note, in Jingxin's neat, elegant handwriting: "According to Red Dust Art feedback in recent years, young male cultivators take great interest in this sort of ornament. Use them freely and boldly, Senior Sister."
"P.S.: The ears will move automatically according to the wearer's emotions—they'll droop down when you're shy, and stand up straight when you're happy."
Fu Xiaoxiao put the cat ears on and looked at herself in the bronze mirror.
The ears were trembling slightly, because she was very nervous.
"...Just this once."
She said to her own reflection in the mirror, the cat ears atop her head drooping slightly from her nervousness, looking rather pitiful.
That night, at the hour of Zi.
Gu Chengming was regulating his breathing in his room when he suddenly heard an extremely faint, extremely soft sound of footsteps outside the door.
Gu Chengming opened his eyes, somewhat puzzled, and was about to get up to open the door, but the door was pushed open first—just a narrow crack.
Through that crack, first came half a fuzzy ear, then the other half.
Fu Xiaoxiao stood in the doorway, strands of hair loose about her shoulders, and atop her head two fuzzy cat ears trembled faintly in time with her pounding heartbeat.
Gu Chengming was a little dazed. Fu Xiaoxiao took a deep breath, threw out her chest, and tried hard to make her voice sound not quite so shaky:
"I heard that you young cultivators are fond of this sort of... meow?"
That final "meow"—she'd originally meant to say "meow-ears," but by the time the words reached her lips it was simply too mortifying, so she forcibly swallowed the second half, and it ended up coming out as a genuine, honest-to-goodness cat's meow.
In that instant the cat ears atop her head drooped completely, all but flattening against her scalp.
Gu Chengming looked at this small, red-faced Acting Sect Master of the Harmonious Joy Sect standing in the doorway, cat ears atop her head, regretting her choices at a visibly rapid pace.
[The Yin-Yang Creation Strategy, for once, fell silent for a moment, then said: Heavenly Emperor Gu, this one you absolutely must secure.]
——Damn, why have you started calling me Heavenly Emperor Gu too?
No wait, could you please not call me Heavenly Emperor Gu at a time like this?
Seeing that Gu Chengming still hadn't reacted, the last shred of courage in Fu Xiaoxiao's heart was rapidly draining away.
It's over, it's over, it's over. Does he think this is really weird? What ornament works so well—it was all a lie!
Her hand had already reached up to the cat ears atop her head, preparing to yank them off at the speed of light and then bolt out the door—when her wrist was seized.
"They look quite nice."
The cat ears sprang up—shwip—standing straight.
Fu Xiaoxiao's face flushed so red it was practically smoking. She wanted to say something to salvage a shred of her dignity as Acting Sect Master, but she opened her mouth and found her mind had completely stopped obeying her.
In the end all she managed to squeeze out was: "...Then shut the door, would you."
Gu Chengming smiled.
The sound of the door closing rang out in the silence of the night—soft, yet very firm.
The moment the door shut, the cat ears atop her head gave a happy little twitch.
The next morning.
Sunlight spilled into the room through the window lattice, casting dappled shadows on the floor.
Fu Xiaoxiao was nestled in Gu Chengming's arms, the cat ears hanging crookedly atop her head—one standing, one drooping. She looked for all the world like a sated little cat, eyes narrowed, an almost dopey smile of contentment on her face.
"Jingxin was right," she mumbled indistinctly.
"What?"
"Nothing." She nuzzled her face against his chest, and the cat ears swayed gently with the motion.
"...Next time you come back, I'll wear them for you again."
After saying that, she blushed first, and buried her entire face in the covers, leaving only two faintly trembling cat-ear tips exposed.
Gu Chengming reached out and lightly flicked the drooping cat ear, and it instantly sprang up, standing perfectly straight.
Fu Xiaoxiao gave his hand a hard bump and let out a huff.
Meanwhile, at an Eternal Life Sect branch altar, in the Hall of Myriad Mortal Forms.
Jìntiān had already been standing at the entrance to the secret chamber's passageway for a full stick of incense's time. Though he very much did not want to go down, he had no choice but to go down.
Jìntiān took a deep breath and strode into the passageway.
The door of the secret chamber stood open. As Jìntiān walked in, the first thing he saw was that pitch-black coffin.
A distinct crack had appeared on the coffin, running from the top of the lid all the way down its side, as if something had split it open from within.
Above the coffin, the phantom of Sorrow-and-Joy hovered in midair.
Compared to their last meeting, that phantom was noticeably "smaller" by a measure. Not smaller in volume, but weaker in presence. Those endlessly shifting faces switched more slowly now, the torrent of emotions had grown thin, and the entire phantom's outline was much blurrier—like a painting soaked in water.
"Joy" and "Stillness" were still there.
But the place of "Sorrow" was empty.
Jìntiān had once seen the complete form of Sorrow-and-Joy, the three fused into one—that had been an existence at the level of the Fifth Realm, a top-tier fighting force to be reckoned with across all of the Great Qian.
And now, three lacking one.
The Fifth Realm was gone. Sorrow-and-Joy's aura had settled steadily at the Half-Step Fifth Realm, only a single step away from the threshold of the Fifth Realm—yet that step simply could not be crossed.
Jìntiān closed his eyes. From the fragments of information lingering in Sorrow-and-Joy's emotions, he had already roughly pieced together how things had unfolded.
Sorrow being trapped in the formation—that much was still within the range of what he'd anticipated. But the part that came next was entirely beyond his comprehension.
Someone had gathered the emotions of over a thousand Harmonious Joy Sect disciples onto himself, then, with emotion as power, his physical body as vessel, and fury as the fuse, blasted Sorrow's corporeal form to pieces with a single punch.
Jìntiān stood before the coffin, his expression undergoing a truly spectacular process of transformation.
First disbelief, then shock, then rational analysis: the instant of Sorrow's corporealization was indeed its most vulnerable moment; if it happened to sustain, at that very instant, a blow exceeding its limit of endurance, then in theory it truly could be shattered.
But then came disbelief again. A Third Realm cultivator? How on earth? And so what if it was the emotions of a thousand people?
But such were the facts. Thinking of all his repeated, painstaking exhortations beforehand, Jìntiān slowly raised his right hand and slapped himself in the forehead.
He felt a bit drained.
Three years of scheming: infiltrating the Harmonious Joy Sect, cooperating with Yun Ni, cultivating the Heart Gu, planting the Red Dust Seed—step by step, carefully, methodically weaving a great net over three years.
The result: Yun Ni was dead, the system of the Desires of All Beings had collapsed, the Heart Gu had been pulled out, the Red Dust Seed had been cleared away, Sorrow had been smashed to pieces, and Sorrow-and-Joy had dropped from the Fifth Realm to the peak of the Fourth Realm.
Not only had he failed to profit, he'd lost a third of a Venerable.
The phantom of Sorrow-and-Joy rotated slowly in midair, those residual emotional ripples conveying a meaning Jìntiān knew all too well.
With Sorrow gone, Sorrow-and-Joy's feeding efficiency had dropped by at least forty percent. Though "Joy" and "Stillness" could also absorb emotions, they were nowhere near as efficient as "Sorrow."
Even more dire, having lost "Sorrow," a fissure had appeared in Sorrow-and-Joy's trinity structure—that crack on the coffin was the most direct proof.
If a replacement could not be found soon to fill the vacancy of "Sorrow," that crack would only grow larger and larger, ultimately causing the entire foundation of Sorrow-and-Joy's existence to disintegrate.
Jìntiān slapped his forehead again. What a goddamn disaster.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.
"Fine." He finally spoke, his voice as calm as if he were giving a year-end summary: "Three years of scheming, a net loss of one Venerable."
He nodded, his expression having already evolved from anguish into a kind of calm that transcended anguish: "Very good."
This was the open-mindedness that comes after the heart has turned to dead ashes.
Jìntiān turned and walked out of the secret chamber, up the passageway, and back into the main hall.
He stopped before the smiling clay idol in the very center of the hall, looked up at that face mocking all things, and then drew a fresh communication jade slip from his sleeve and began composing a report to those above.
The wording was difficult. He deliberated back and forth for a full stick of incense's time, and finally wrote down a few concise lines.
"The Harmonious Joy Sect plan has failed. Yun Ni is dead, the Red Dust Seeds are all lost, Sorrow has been slain, Sorrow-and-Joy has fallen a realm, and is currently stuck at the peak of the Fourth Realm."
"The responsibility is mine. I await the decision from above."
After writing it, he read it over again and felt something was off.
So he added a line at the end: "P.S.: The one who slew Sorrow is a Third Realm cultivator."
He thought about it, then added one more line.
"With a single punch."
Somewhere in the Eternal Life Sect's Main Altar.
The person who received this jade slip fell silent for a long time after reading it.
Then they set the jade slip down on the table.
"Third Realm, one punch?"
The air was quiet for a moment.
Which ancient old ghost has come back to life again?
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