Chapter 99#

The Elderly Are Slow#

After chatting for a while, Sang Chiyu noticed a figure outside. He threw on his robe and stood up, pushing open the crimson carved door. The cold, clear moonlight lingered on the moss-covered steps, where a solitary figure stood like a lost soul.

Su Guanyu turned to look at him with a mocking smile.

“You lost to Hui’er after all.”

“If that’s what you consider losing,” Sang Chiyu said.

“Oh?” Su Guanyu narrowed his eyes.

“You dare not face your love,” Sang Chiyu said indifferently. “I dare.”

The two stared at each other from afar, silent. The moonlight was still, and the secluded courtyard was shrouded in the soundless night.

After a long moment, a breeze passed, stirring the shadows of leaves. When the wind stopped and the shadows ceased to sway, Su Guanyu had vanished.

“Sang-ge, carry me to wash my butt!” Su Ruhui yelled from inside.

He turned and went back into the room, picking up Su Ruhui. Su Ruhui wrapped his arms around his neck, his eyes curving into crescent moons. But after just a few steps, the Sang Chiyu in front of him suddenly disappeared, and Su Ruhui landed hard on the floor.

What happened? Dizzy from the fall, Su Ruhui clutched his butt and stood up, only to find that Sang Chiyu had turned into Sang Baobao. The cat stared with its ice-blue eyes, looking dazed, clearly unsure of what had occurred. Su Ruhui noticed it was glowing—a faint cyan luminescence flowing like fireflies through its meridians. He picked it up. “Sang-ge, what’s wrong with you? Are you injured?”

Sang Baobao looked down at its furry paws, ears drooping, looking a bit listless.

Su Ruhui suddenly remembered what that cat servant had said earlier, about Sang Chiyu being injured. Sang Chiyu had lied, claiming the servant was lying. So the one lying was Sang Chiyu all along.

“You’re injured?” Su Ruhui asked again.

Sang Baobao struggled in his arms. Su Ruhui carried it back to the bed, pinned it down, and parted its fur to look at its skin. Beneath the fur were indeed many scars. The blood of demonkind contained self-healing factors, with extremely high efficiency, so normally scars shouldn’t form. That Sang Chiyu had scars showed how severe his injuries had been. That jerk never took off his clothes in bed—Su Ruhui hadn’t thought much of it, but it turned out he was hiding his scars.

“Who did this to you? Why didn’t you tell me?” Su Ruhui’s heart clenched painfully.

“It’s nothing,” Sang Baobao said, extending a paw to pat his head.

Seeing that he could no longer hide it, Sang Baobao had to briefly explain. Su Ruhui’s eyes teared up from heartache. “You’re injured and still you mounted me, seven times! Do you not value your life? Most rules in the super-primordial domain are the same as reality; there’s no coming back from death. If you die here, you’re really dead.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sang Baobao said. “I can handle it.”

Su Ruhui: “…”

Unbelievable. This silly cat seemed determined to prove its abilities.

Su Ruhui gently stroked its soft belly. It resisted a little, turning away so Su Ruhui wouldn’t touch it. Tantai Jing had said it was fat, and it was afraid Su Ruhui would feel its flab—though it didn’t actually have any.

“Does it hurt?” Su Ruhui asked softly. “Then I won’t touch you. Rest well. I’ll go wash my butt.”

Sang Baobao tried to get up, stumbled a few times, and fell back into the blankets. So it just lay there, its cat form fairly large, taking up half the bed like a cat pancake.

“Rest, don’t get up,” Su Ruhui said.

Just as Su Ruhui was about to rise, he heard Sang Baobao speak in a muffled voice.

“Su Ruhui, am I fat?”

“This isn’t fat,” Su Ruhui said. “A big fluffy ball is adorable.”

For some reason, the cat on the bed seemed even more depressed.

The next morning, Su Ruhui wanted to fight alone, but Sang Baobao vetoed that and insisted on following him to the Stone Nest. Sang Baobao could now shift back to human form, but couldn’t hide its ears and tail. Su Ruhui wanted it to rest and picked up the compass to contact Han Ye. Han Ye and Zhou Xiaosu were staying at an inn. The original Qinghefang Inn, which had hosted envoys from all over in the border capital, had long since collapsed. The demon clan had built a new one on the same site. It was a unique stone structure, towering and majestic, but the beds were too hard, making one’s back ache.

“You want us to help you rescue Tantai Jing?” Han Ye’s voice came through the compass.

Su Ruhui said, “I know you’ve got a grudge against my uncle, so asking for your help is indeed pushing it. But you’re my only allies. I want to borrow a secret art practitioner of Heavenly Eye.”

“Come on, if helping is the best way, then don’t choose a more dangerous way,” Han Ye said irritably. “Times have changed. The demon clan is our biggest threat. Saving him—fine.” He sneered. “Besides, seeing him imprisoned and humiliated is more satisfying than killing him.”

“In that case, I’ll send you the battle plan later, and we’ll act accordingly.”

“By the way,” Han Ye said, “the secret art effect on Shentu has been removed. We kept him unconscious for a few days. When he woke up, he ate three buckets of meat. Are demons this voracious? Are you really going to keep him? Why not butcher him for dog meat?”

Beside him, Shentu looked up pitifully, eyes teary. “How cruel of you. Why say such things in front of me?” As he spoke, tears dripped down.

Han Ye was stunned. It was the first time he’d seen a dog cry.

“Also, I’ve told you countless times, I’m a wolf,” Shentu protested tearfully. “I’m the most ferocious wolf clan demon ancestor of the Snowlands!”

“Shentu,” Su Ruhui asked, “does your head still hurt?”

Finally getting some concern, Shentu said plaintively, “It doesn’t hurt anymore. But don’t think you can worm anything out of me. I swear loyalty to my clan; I’ll never betray them.”

“Good, it doesn’t hurt. When I get back, I’ll make you braised pork belly,” Su Ruhui said softly. “Do you remember why your king cast the Mind-Heart Communion on you?”

At the mention of braised pork, Shentu started drooling and immediately forgot what he’d just said. “No idea. One day he summoned me to the royal city and gave me a bowl of frozen meat. While I was eating, he suddenly took off his hood, and I got hit.”

Su Ruhui thought for a moment. “Now that you’re no longer under Mind-Heart Communion, have you noticed any unusual changes? Like in your memories or perceptions—anything different?”

“Yes,” Shentu said. “I remember something.”

“Tell me about it,” Su Ruhui coaxed. “I’ll make sure you eat your fill from now on.”

“I trekked through a howling blizzard and found Su Guanyu buried under heavy snow. When the blizzard stopped, we made a fire under the stars. I thought it was strange back then—a frail mortal like him would have stopped at the first blizzard. But he kept walking for so, so long, through more blizzards than I could count on ten fingers. Even I, a fierce demon, feared the snow’s fury. Why wasn’t he afraid? So I asked him: as a weak mortal, why would you venture deep into the Snowlands?”

Shentu lifted his head, recalling a scene from many, many years ago. Under the influence of Mind-Heart Communion, he had buried this memory deep. It was a pitch-black night, stars filling the vast sky, endless snowy mountains stretching into the distance. The two of them—one human, one wolf—sat by the fire.

When Shentu asked that question, the traveler from afar was silent for a long time. Shentu remembered his profile—quiet, handsome, with a gentle yet sorrowful smile. An endless desolation radiated around him, and even the carefree Shentu felt a pang of sadness in that moment.

“I came for my dead wife,” he said softly. “Averaging her is the last thing I will do as Su Guanyu.”

Sang Baobao listened quietly, understanding everything.

The King of Luofu could be controlled by Su Guanyu in the Northern Chen Hall, and likely also in the Snowlands Royal City. The one who cast Mind-Heart Communion on Shentu wasn’t the King of Luofu—it was Su Guanyu.

Su Guanyu wasn’t satisfied with erasing his own emotional code; he also had to erase all evidence of his love for Tantai Xun.

He went to the Snowlands not for himself, but to avenge Tantai Xun—though he wouldn’t admit it. Just like he loved Tantai Xun, but he wouldn’t admit it.

Palace City, Northern Chen Hall.

Su Guanyu pressed his right hand on the King of Luofu’s head, and an image of the Stone Nest appeared before him. It was Bai Ruoye’s field of vision: piles of documents stacked in front of her as she reviewed frontline reports. Human armies were gathering in the distance; soon she would set out again. Su Guanyu couldn’t see her face, only what she saw. After a moment, the vision shifted to a bronze mirror, reflecting a woman’s shadow. Su Guanyu’s hand trembled, and he severed the Mind-Heart Communion.

The King of Luofu had indeed been monitoring Bai Ruoye, but Su Guanyu had controlled him, causing him to forget that he had ever done so. Su Guanyu saw the puppet Bai Ruoye had prepared for Su Ruhui. He manipulated the King of Luofu, choosing a time when Bai Ruoye was away, went to that hidden, dark underground workshop, and destroyed the puppet meant for Su Ruhui.

Su Guanyu felt pain, as if vines were strangling his heart. What tormented him wasn’t the golden cage of the super-primordial domain, but the emotions he couldn’t shake off.

Sang Chiyu—that foolish cat—was willing to be Su Ruhui’s pet. How could Su Guanyu be the same? This so-called super-primordial domain was like Su Ruhui’s shadow puppetry; he and Tantai Xun were puppets sewn by Su Ruhui’s own hands. Their joints were connected by strings, forced to perform a vow of eternal love scripted by Su Ruhui. Su Ruhui made him love her, so he loved her. He knew these feelings weren’t his, yet he still couldn’t root them out.

He didn’t want to be Su Guanyu. He wasn’t Tantai Xun’s husband. He wasn’t Su Ruhui’s father. In no sense was Su Ruhui his and Tantai Xun’s biological son.

He wasn’t Su Guanyu. He was himself.

He cast aside form and knowledge, abandoned everything, and chose to dwell in another’s body, becoming a neither-human-nor-ghost monster—only to become himself.

Beside him, the King of Luofu mirrored his pained expression. The king’s face twisted, flickering between Su Guanyu’s features and his own. Su Guanyu had been dwelling in the King of Luofu’s body for over a decade, and the king was gradually being eroded, like a hollow shell about to be eaten away.

Su Guanyu pulled up his own data. The emotional code began to grow chaotically again—hyperplasia, replication, overlapping—filling his vision densely. He deleted line after line, but the deletion couldn’t keep up with the growth. For every line deleted, a new one sprouted beneath.

He thought that if he didn’t see her, he could stop loving her. He thought that if he ignored her, he could forget her.

He wasn’t the real virus; love was. Only when love stopped proliferating could he be completely free.

Border Capital.

A torrential rain fell without warning, as if the sky had been torn open, pouring down in sheets. Heavy rain could mask scents, so Su Ruhui seized the opportunity to act. First, Zhou Xiaosu would go to meet Bai Ruoye, using the pretext of not wanting to stay with Yan Jinyu and even less to become Sang Chiyu’s concubine, begging for Bai Ruoye’s help. Given Bai Ruoye’s temperament, she wouldn’t stand idly by.

A monk, cloaked in grass leaves, hid in the forest opposite the Stone Nest. Fully focused, he used the Heavenly Eye secret art to watch the Stone Nest’s main gate. Sure enough, the gate opened wide, and Bai Ruoye’s puppet carriage emerged. Rain poured down; as the curtain swayed, the monk caught a glimpse of Bai Ruoye’s face.

He pulled out his compass and said, “Bai Ruoye has left the Stone Nest.”

Inside the Stone Nest, a Formless Dharma Gate opened silently. A hooded Su Ruhui and a cat stepped out. Sang Baobao was a stubborn cat; it insisted on coming, so Su Ruhui had to let it.

It was Su Ruhui’s first time in the Stone Nest where Bai Ruoye lived. Dark corridors extended in a ring, each pillar as thick as a man’s embrace. The gables were carved with intricate patterns, but perhaps due to age and wind and snow, many were now indistinct. The demon clan’s architectural style was vastly different from the human world; they favored large black stones, thick walls, and towering foundations.

Not knowing where Tantai Jing was, Sang Baobao and Su Ruhui surveyed their surroundings. Su Ruhui pointed to a distant stone tower. Through the rain curtain, they could faintly see that the tower’s stones were carved with scroll-like runes, silver light flowing like snakes, shimmering.

Purification talismans. With such tight security, Tantai Jing was likely there.

“Begin clearing all targets inside the Stone Nest,” Su Ruhui murmured.

“Fifty paces ahead, around the corner, three demon servants,” the monk reported their path.

Voices came from ahead, intermittent through the heavy rain.

“Is Her Highness bewitched lately? I keep seeing her stare into space. Last time, she asked me if I’d seen a gray-haired woman in the Stone Nest,” one demon servant said quietly.

Another answered, “Could it be a ghost? Too many people have died in this descent to the mortal world. Maybe vengeful spirits are coming for Her Highness.”

A third servant hissed, “Shut your nonsense! Watch your heads!”

Su Ruhui raised his crossbow and fired a short arrow. As the three servants appeared at the corner, their heads happened to be level. The arrow pierced through them like threading beads, and all three fell simultaneously. Sang Baobao picked up stones and stuffed them into the wounds to prevent healing, then dragged the bodies into a corner before they continued.

Su Ruhui killed silently all the way, with Sang Baobao responsible for dragging bodies. The Stone Nest’s undergrowth was crammed with corpses, barely enough space. Except for the stone tower, the demon guard force inside the Stone Nest had been cleared. Sang Baobao and Su Ruhui arrived at the foot of the tower. Su Ruhui pulled out a pouch of iron spider minions and tossed them into the tower.

Su Ruhui put on a monocular glass lens to control the spiders while Sang Baobao guarded his feet. Countless small spiders crept into the tower, splitting off along different paths, climbing up the guards’ ankles and thighs, hiding under their collars. The spiders were too small for any demon to notice. The remaining spiders continued upward, attaching themselves to the necks of guards on each floor.

When the last guard was also tagged, Su Ruhui took off his glasses and snapped his fingers.

Explosions sounded inside the tower.

Each bomb was just large enough to blow up a neck. The thick stone walls of the demon clan muffled the explosions within the tower. By the time the sound reached outside, it was much weakened, and inside the Stone Nest, there were no survivors to hear it.

The monk observed the guards outside the Stone Nest; none heard the explosions.

“Everything’s normal on the perimeter. You can go in.”

Sang Baobao and Su Ruhui stepped over the shattered heads littering the floor and ascended to the top floor. Pushing open the door, Tantai Jing was kneeling behind a desk, lifting his eyes indifferently, as if unsurprised by their arrival.

Su Ruhui tossed a handgun to Tantai Jing. “Let’s go, down the tower. There are purification talismans in the tower; we need to get out to open the Dharma Gate.”

Tantai Jing placed the handgun on the desk.

Su Ruhui: “?”

Tantai Jing said, “I do not favor underhanded methods.”

Sang Baobao leaped onto the desk, ruthlessly exposing him. “He doesn’t know how to use a firearm.”

“Huh?” Su Ruhui found it strange. “Uncle, you don’t know how to use a firearm?”

Well, it made sense. In Tantai Jing’s era, firearms weren’t popular; it was Su Ruhui who later improved them, making them important military weapons. Besides, Tantai Jing had the Blizzard Secret Art before, so he never bothered with external tools.

Tantai Jing said coldly, “Mere trifle—what’s so hard about it?”

A demon whose head hadn’t been completely blown off staggered up outside. Tantai Jing picked up the handgun and fired at him.

He missed.

Silence filled the room.

“The elderly are slow,” Sang Baobao said expressionlessly.

Tantai Jing: “…”

Su Ruhui: “…”

Why did he feel like these two didn’t get along?

Author’s Note:

Sang Chiyu: “Whoever calls me fat dies.” (Cold.)