Nightfall

The obscure feeling in his body did not garner much attention from Ning Que. He even thought that the warmth came from Mo Shanshan who was behind him. He only looked at the sword marks on the bluestone ceiling silently. He thought of how Youngest Uncle had waved his sword around him gracefully then and how hopeless he felt now, waiting for death. He felt ashamed and embarrassed.

Waiting for death hopelessly was a sad thing. Those in this situation were usually silent. Master Lotus did not say anything, so Ning Que did not find himself wanting to say anything either. The room in the Devil’s Palace was deadly silent.

The deadly silent environment was just like Master Lotus’s angry memories. They were indeed scary after a prolonged period of time. There was no sound of the breeze or the rustling of plants. Ning Que even felt that he could vaguely hear his lungs expanding and contracting. He could hear his hair chaffing together. He thought it was really incredible, but also scary.

He would have thought that he had already reached the Underworld had he not been able to feel Mo Shanshan’s soft body.

Mo Shanshan leaned on his shoulder weakly, and she asked in a haggard manner, "Are we going to die?"

Ning Que answered after a moment of silence, "It seems that way."

Mo Shanshan’s brow furrowed and she said, "Why can’t you comfort me?"

Ning Que coughed painfully before he said self-mockingly, "It is a comfort to be able to die happy."

Mo Shanshan understood what he meant. It would be a happy death if Master Lotus killed them straight. It would be the most terrifying thing on earth if they ended up like Ye Hongyu who had to watch herself get eaten alive.

The young girl’s beautiful face paled at that thought. Her long lashes fluttered and her lips pursed tightly into a straight line. She was silent for a long time. Then, she looked at Ning Que whose brows were furrowed deeply from his coughing. She said with a mild tremble in her voice, "I have said that I liked your writing back at the palace."

Ning Que did not know why the Calligraphy Addict would mention that at this time. After a moment, he smiled and comforted her, "I know that I write well. I will write a thousand words for you when we get out."

Mo Shanshan smiled lightly, "I have also said that I liked your Big Black Horse."

Ning Que was startled. He said bitterly, "I can’t bear the thought of leaving that stubborn thing to someone else."

"I don’t want the Big Black Horse." Mo Shanshan bit her lower lip, and then, as if she had decided on something, she said lightly, "I indeed like your words and the Big Black Horse. But I want to tell you something else."

"I like you."

This confession turned Ning Que into a block of wood. He looked at the haggard but beautiful face. He could smell the faint scent of the girl beside him. After a long moment of silence, he thought about how he should reply to this confession.

This was the first time he had received a confession from someone of the opposite gender in both lives. This was one of the most touching things he had heard in both his lives. Even though it was a pity that they were in the dark Front Gate of the Devil’s Doctrine and that they were on the brink of death. But it was still as touching as the rustling of a willow branch by the lake. Was the lake the Ink Lake at the foot of the Mogan Mountain?

The girl beside him was one of the most beautiful women in the world. She was also a top player in the cultivation world and was world-renowned. There were many young men who admired her but were too ashamed of themselves to say so. To Ning Que, Mo Shanshan was perfect if not for her bad eyesight that caused others to think that she was lofty and prideful.

They were a perfect match no matter in their sects, family backgrounds or her political inclinations. The Tang Empire and the Great River Kingdom were allies, and the Headmaster of the Academy and His Majesty would both think well of this match. In terms of their hobbies, the two could be said to be the best match in the same Taoist path. If they were to end up together, other than having relations, it would be wonderful if they could write and admire each other’s calligraphy at night.

But the crux of the matter was, did he like her? Of course, he did. Liking someone was complicated for men sometimes. But most of the time, it was really simple. It was a given, to like someone like Mo Shanshan. Ning Que did like her.

But it was just that they were about to die at the Front Gate of the Devil’s Doctrine and he was still able to think about such matters for so long. When he finally roused himself, he could not help but laugh. He felt that something was not right.

This feeling was really weird. Nothing of the secular world mattered when one was dying. Furthermore, he had reflected deeply and was certain that he did like the girl who was as innocent as calligraphy and ink. However, he could not erase the feeling that something was off. It felt like a crucial step one would make before joining the Devil. There was something terrifying hidden behind a wonderful thing.

What was that something terrifying? Ning Que did not know. He looked at the girl beside him and said bewilderedly, "Junior sister, Shanshan. I like your character and your appearance and also the way you handle things. At a time like this, I shouldn’t... "

There was no shyness that would be present on any girl after she confessed on Mo Shanshan’s face. There was only warmth and calmness. She knew why Ning Que had hesitated and was even more certain than him why he had done so. She could not help but sigh lightly in her heart.

She leaned into his chest gently and murmured, "You are really clueless about many things. I just didn’t want to die without you knowing how I feel. I am in no hurry to hear any words of comfort from you. Everything you say now does not count and would not be fair either. I just wanted to tell you that."

Ning Que wanted to retort that he wasn’t clueless, but on the second thought he realized that he was clueless indeed.

Why did he not express his true feelings, hug the girl to his chest, tell her that he liked her too and make up for the experience he lacked in both lives? What was he afraid of?

He was touched by Mo Shanshan’s affection for him. He said softly, "I know."

Mo Shanshan smiled contentedly. She shut her eyes slowly and leaned into his chest. She said, "That is enough."

In the dark room within the Devil’s Palace, a pile of bones laid in the middle. The old monk’s palm pressed gently on the head of a beautiful girl who was bathed in blood. It was as cold as winter. In the corner of that room, was a couple who were about to welcome death. They embraced each other lightly and spoke in soft tones like little animals. It was as warm as spring.

This cruel and yet beautiful scene was heart wrenching and touching.

...

...

Beautiful emotions could not make the world beautiful. It might look as warm as spring, but in actuality, the room became dimmer and the temperature dropped as night embraced the mountain peak outside the Devil’s Doctrine. Mo Shanshan laid in Ning Que’s embrace, unconscious. Ning Que who was heavily injured could feel the energy in his body slowly slipping away.

He could vaguely remember the warmth he felt earlier. He raised his head subconsciously and looked at the bluestone ceiling once more. He suddenly discovered that the sword marks on the stone did not disappear together with the night, but had started to glow with flames.

Youngest Uncle had killed many powerhouses of the Devil’s Doctrine then. Had the blood on the sword meet the stone walls and become the ghost fire that it was today? But Ning Que clearly remembered that ghost fire was something that only stayed on rotting corpses. It wouldn’t last for so long.

He squinted and found that the sword marks on the roof were getting clearer. He was entranced by it and attempted to decode it using the Eight Strokes Calligraphy of Yong. He forgot about the injuries he had sustained and forgot to cough.

The flaming sword marks began to turn into numerous shards of light, and then, they started to spin in his vision. It felt as if he was lying on the grassland and they were the numerous stars in the skies above his head. It was beautiful and calming.

Suddenly, Ning Que experienced another feeling of warmth in his body. This time, he did not allow this feeling to slip, but he did not pay too much attention to it either. He just savored it.

The stone ceiling with the sword marks on them remained in his field of vision as they spun in a certain order. The warmth seemed to correspond to that and began to spread in his body. It spread from his wrists to his neck and left behind a comfortable warmth where it passed.

Ning Que mind had wandered by then. He chased the warmth subconsciously, wanting to dissipate the coldness in his body. His gaze moved together with sword marks and they gradually imprinted on his sense of perception.

Those sword marks entered his pupils and his body, turning into a warm flow of air. It passed through his wrists and several joints. It entered his organs and turned into a presence that seemed almost tangible, hurrying him to stand up coldly. The sword style hidden in the sword marks was proud, how would it allow hopelessness and surrender before death?

And so, Ning Que stood up.

He raised his head and looked at the sword marks on the ceiling quietly. He did not seem to know when he had stood up.

Mo Shanshan was shocked from her slumber. She looked at Ning Que who stood before her in stunned silence. She did not know what had happened.

Ning Que looked at the sword marks above his head silently. He did not know how much time had passed, but his pupils grew darker but were shiny. It looked as if he was looking through an abyss.

There was a clink as he slowly drew the podao behind his back.

He looked at a perpendicular sword mark on the ceiling and stepped forward with his right foot.

He looked at the clumsy, short and straight sword mark at a corner and his left knee landed heavily on the ground.

He looked at the gentle circle of a sword mark on the wall across him. He turned suddenly and struck out with his blade.

The blade hummed, and the air between it split. There was a sudden gust of wind in the quiet room.

...

...

The old monk had awakened. He looked to the side. He had used the Practice of Taotie and taken two continuous bites of the Tao Addict’s pure flesh. His cheeks had filled out slightly and the life in his dried body became vigorous.

Ning Que was waving his blade around in the corner of the room. He stared at the sword marks littering the walls and ceiling of the room. He could not stop waving around the podao in his hand. He did not sense anything else around him and have seemed to enter a deep meditation state.

The old monk could feel the aura of the sword marks around him slipping away and entering the body of the young man. His eyes filled with anger suddenly as he yelled shrilly, "You are already dead. Do you still want the broken sword you left to come back to life?"

The old monk’s cheeks that had just filled out slightly earlier began to sink. He pointed at the dried fingers of his right hand at Ning Que who was in a trance. He looked as if he wanted to kill him even if it took the last ounce of blood in him.

Mo Shanshan was the first to react. She supported her body weakly and reached out behind her to hold on to a few hard objects tightly.

Ye Hongyu who was so silent felt as if she was long dead, remaining beneath the palms of the old monk. She raised her head suddenly and her hands which were buried in the pile of bone shards began to tremble slightly. Stubbornness and a will to live glowed in her cold eyes.