5. The Abyss of Microbial Life

At the break of dawn, when the mist began to rise, a soul-shaped skull, coalesced from countless strands of chilling, baleful death-qi, hovered high above the Peach Blossom Cove, where the peach trees bloomed in a riot of burning color.

The ghastly wind stirred by the skull set the peach blossoms dancing in a frenzied whirl. Amidst the swirling petals, Weisheng Ming stood alone, the tip of his foot resting lightly on a slender peach branch.

He wore a robe of black, patterned with subtle, dark motifs that shimmered with a muted, flowing light, resembling the magnificent, obsidian feathers of a raven. The colossal soul-skull stared blankly at him, its empty, pitch-black eye sockets like two bottomless, unfathomable vortices, threatening to draw a soul in and grind it to dust.

Peach blossoms drifted from their branches beneath him, only to be sucked into the dark whirlpools. Yet, Weisheng Ming remained perfectly motionless; even the sleeves of his robe hung as still as if time itself had frozen.

As the black mist of the soul-skull crept toward his feet, he still did not stir. He merely let out a soft laugh. "I truly apologize to you."

"To resurrect this remaining wisp of a soul, you spent twelve years enduring such hardships and tribulations. Yet, I have come to claim your life on the very eve of your rebirth."

He sighed. "How does it feel to fail when success was within reach? It is truly a pity for you."

Weisheng Ming’s voice was clear and melodic, like the chime of warm jade, gentle as a spring breeze. Beneath the soft sigh at the end of his sentence, there seemed to be genuine regret, yet his hand was already drawing a long, obsidian sword.

As the blade left its sheath, the peach petals began to dance with even greater violence. What had once been like fluttering butterflies now resembled maddened bees. Enveloped by the dense, heavy killing intent of the Seven-Kill Sword, the delicate petals were transformed into lethal blades, surging toward the soul-skull.

The blades tore through the skull’s gaping, blood-thirsty maw. In an instant, like morning mist in the mountains dispersed by the rising sun, the soul-skull vanished into thin air.

The wind had not yet died down, and the peach blossoms continued to fall. Weisheng Ming still stood upon a peach tree, as if he had never moved an inch.

Only, the tree beneath his feet was a different one.

Weisheng Ming lowered his gaze to the Peach Blossom Cove below. In the dried-up lakebed, piles of white bones lay half-exposed.

At that moment, another figure arrived through the air. As soon as he landed beneath the peach tree, he heard Weisheng Ming ask in a clear voice, "Has the news of the bones in Peach Blossom Cove been spread?"

Ye Pingzhou replied, "I notified the Island Master a few days ago. It is said that a funeral rite will be held here today, and a Taoist priest will come to offer salvation to these lost souls. The families and friends who can make it will come to bid them a final farewell."

Having fulfilled the task Weisheng Ming had entrusted to him, Ye Pingzhou looked up at his junior brother standing in the tree, puzzled. "Junior Brother Weisheng, why didn't you just finish off this soul-demon back then? Why keep a wisp of its soul, let it linger for twelve years, and then go to all this trouble to come back?"

Ye Pingzhou also looked at the bones in the lake, his expression one of deep confusion. "Was it just so it could escape back to its lair, allowing us to find the remains of the people it murdered?"

"Certainly not." Weisheng Ming leaped lightly from the peach tree. "Do you know how the fifty-seven people in the cove were killed?"

Ye Pingzhou asked, "How?"

Weisheng Ming said, "It would transform into an elderly or frail person, leading those who pitied it into its inn—a gateway to the Yellow Springs. To make the human essence taste sweeter, it would weave a beautiful dream for the victim while consuming their soul. Only at the very last moment would it reveal its true, hideous form, devouring the victim’s terror as the final seasoning for its meal."

Ye Pingzhou shuddered slightly.

Weisheng Ming continued, "The fifty-seven people in Peach Blossom Cove all died the same way."

"For a demon so skilled at playing with human hearts, would it not be a slight to it if I didn't make it suffer a bit, instead of ending it cleanly with a single stroke of my sword?"

He stood with his sword in his arms, his spirit soaring. In his smiling eyes reflected the vibrant peach blossoms, filling his vision with color. His face, which looked exceptionally kind and soft, wore an expression of ease and pleasure.

Weisheng Ming’s eyes burned with intensity as he spoke, his voice ringing out. "To let it die easily—how could that compare to letting it revel in the fantasy of its escape, living through a twelve-year dream I wove for it? I specifically kept it from knowing that from the very beginning, it was burdened by the Soul-Devouring Curse I placed upon it. Even if I hadn't come today, it would never have been able to take on a demon form again. Senior Brother, with such painstaking effort on my part, why do you accuse me of not being thorough enough?"

Ye Pingzhou: "..."

Weisheng Ming continued to ask, "Am I not doing it a favor? I believe that not one of the fifty-seven people who died at its hands would say I am in the wrong."

His voice remained filled with laughter, yet Ye Pingzhou felt another light chill.

This junior brother of his was normal in every way, save for his personality, which was flamboyant and eccentric. In daily life, he was merely wayward, which was understandable given his peerless genius and strength as a youth. But when it came to slaughter, his quirks were fully exposed.

His junior brother had his own logic; he would always measure the evil a demon had inflicted upon others and return it in equal measure.

Although twelve years in the mortal realm meant nothing to cultivators like them, who had long ago blurred their sense of time, the idea that he would go to such lengths—letting a wisp of a soul escape just to make it suffer—was hard to believe.

Even a cat wouldn't play with a mouse for so long.

But Weisheng Ming’s prey were always demons or spirits, and his actions were those of a righteous cultivator subduing evil. Ye Pingzhou had no grounds to criticize his habit of going the extra mile to pay evil back with evil.

Sometimes, he would feel a strange flash of pity for the demons who fell into Weisheng Ming’s hands, but that quickly turned into gloating.

Those evil things should have stayed in their lairs and practiced diligently, rather than indulging in crooked schemes and falling into his junior brother's hands.

Twelve years of painstaking planning, suffering to resurrect his own remnant soul, only to have the dream shatter just as the darkness was about to break into dawn. One wondered what the soul-demon felt before it died.

Ye Pingzhou said, "But this turned out to be a stroke of luck. The soul-demon ended up resting in this lair, allowing us to find its hidden nest and, subsequently, all the remains of the people it killed. These unfortunate souls can finally stop soaking in that cold lake."

Ye Pingzhou sighed deeply. Weisheng Ming responded languidly, "Perhaps the peach blossoms here were beautiful enough that even an old demon felt a touch of nostalgia and wanted to return to its nest."

Seeing him standing in the peach tree admiring the flowers with a pleased expression, Ye Pingzhou shook his head. "You spent twelve years just to give yourself a moment of satisfaction."

Weisheng Ming laughed aloud. "Oh? Satisfaction in what?"

"If I had killed it before it caused such chaos, that would be true satisfaction."

Ye Pingzhou wanted to say more, but he suddenly heard Weisheng Ming say, "Let's go."

In the distance, human voices stirred. Through the peach forest, one could see a crowd approaching—it seemed the funeral procession was on its way.

Ye Pingzhou quickly formed a seal, followed Weisheng Ming, and together they turned into streaks of light, vanishing instantly from the peach forest by the cove.

***

Having failed to see every peach blossom by the cove, they found the same pleasure within the city of Thousand Moon Island.

Thousand Moon City was filled with peach trees. Along the streets, in the courtyards of the residents, and at the entrances of the inns, clusters of peach trees were everywhere, and the faint, sweet fragrance of blossoms filled the air.

***

Ye Pingzhou did not know how it happened, or even what had occurred just moments before, but suddenly, from having empty hands, he was now carrying a roasted chicken in each hand and a jar of Peach Blossom Wine in the other.

The culprit responsible for this was walking ahead of him, holding his own jar of wine, his stride relaxed and his back looking carefree and unrestrained.

Ye Pingzhou felt a surge of annoyance in his heart.

It was like this again.

It was always like this.

Whenever he went to slay demons with Weisheng Ming, he, the senior brother, never acted like one. Instead, he ended up following his junior brother, led by the nose.

Before descending the mountain, the Sect Master had given him stern instructions, and Ye Pingzhou had warned himself a hundred times that this time he would not let Weisheng Ming lead him around. And yet—

He still could not escape the fate of being pushed and pulled by Weisheng Ming.

So be it. His junior brother was full of tricks, and he was always caught off guard. Ye Pingzhou decided not to resist his fate of lacking the gravitas of a head disciple. After all, though Weisheng Ming was young, his cultivation was the highest in the Taiwei Sect, far surpassing even the elders; he had the standing to do as he pleased.

Ye Pingzhou admired the peach blossoms along the road of Thousand Moon Island and remarked, "Twelve years ago, Thousand Moon City wasn't like this. At that time, the roads on both sides were completely bare."

The place where the soul-demon had been active was not far from Thousand Moon Island. He and Weisheng Ming had passed by while traveling, slain the demon, and stopped here for a drink on their way.

At that time, Weisheng Ming had casually told the residents of Thousand Moon Island that peach wood was Yang in nature and could ward off evil. The residents, already terrified by the news of the soul-demon's rampage, had actually followed his advice and planted peach trees.

"Perhaps in another hundred years, this place will be called Peach Blossom Island. That could count as another one of your contributions."

"What contribution? Did I dig the pits or plant the trees?" Weisheng Ming, biting into a peach blossom pastry and holding his small wine jar, stopped beside a group of mortal youths who were learning to gamble and drink from their elders. He watched them with great interest, saying without looking back, "If anything, we are the ones taking advantage of them, having pastries to eat and wine to drink."

His junior brother always had a way of justifying his own twisted logic, and Ye Pingzhou did not comment.

"Where are we going next?" Ye Pingzhou asked.

The once-in-a-century Sword Discussion Conference was approaching, and the junior brothers in the sect were practicing hard. As the head disciple, he should be setting an example. How could he let them know he was drinking in the mortal realm while they were honing their skills?

Since Weisheng Ming had bought these two jars of wine, he certainly wouldn't return until they were finished.

Ye Pingzhou felt that Weisheng Ming must have somewhere else he wanted to go.

Weisheng Ming turned back. "The Moon Wall."

Ye Pingzhou: "...As I thought."

Cultivators of the Great Sea Ten Continents never prayed to gods or Buddhas, but Weisheng Ming was the exception. No matter where he went, if there was a ritual for blessings, he would always get involved.

However, for a cultivator, if one believed in gods, why toil so hard at cultivation?

Ye Pingzhou was deeply perplexed and had once asked Weisheng Ming the reason. The other had only lifted an eyelid, yawned, and replied, "It's just fun, to relieve the boredom."

If any other junior brother in the sect had said they were bored, Ye Pingzhou would have certainly sent them off to practice their swords. With enough homework, who would dare be bored?

But he could not say that to Weisheng Ming, and Ye Pingzhou could not refute him at all.

As the number one swordsman who had never lost, a man who stood at the summit, cold and invincible, he had the qualification to say he was bored.

Ye Pingzhou walked and lingered on the streets with Weisheng Ming. As night fell, they arrived near the Moon Wall, where Weisheng Ming bought sixty soul-lanterns from the lamplighter.

These lanterns were usually lit for departed family members. When Weisheng Ming announced the number—sixty—the lamplighter stared in astonishment, unsure whether to remark on the flourishing family of this handsome youth or his tragic fate.

*Sixty people in his family have died?* What a miserable life story.

Ye Pingzhou, however, remained calm. He was long accustomed to Weisheng Ming’s wayward and absurd conduct. Though he didn't know what Weisheng Ming intended to do with sixty lanterns, he didn't want to ask. He faced the lamplighter’s pitying expression with practiced indifference, moving his feet to pretend he was a total stranger to Weisheng Ming.

Behind the Moon Wall, Weisheng Ming lit the lamps one by one and set them down.

When he had finished, he bowed to the candlelight, which illuminated his entire face. Then he emerged from the Moon Wall, took his wine jar, and leaped to a rooftop in a secluded area to drink with Ye Pingzhou.

"We leave when these sixty lanterns burn out," Weisheng Ming said.

Ye Pingzhou said, "The people here are buying lanterns for their departed loved ones, at most three or five. You bought sixty all at once; you scared the old man selling them."

Weisheng Ming laughed and clinked his jar against Ye Pingzhou's. "Then I shall punish myself with a drink."

The stars were brilliant, the night thick.

The moon rose to the eaves, and the wind stood at the center of the night.

Pedestrians near the Moon Wall gradually grew sparse.

As they drank until they were slightly hazy, Ye Pingzhou suddenly patted Weisheng Ming.

"Do you recognize the Young Sect Master of the Chengjian Sect?" Ye Pingzhou asked.

Weisheng Ming’s eyes remained clear. He asked, "Who?"

"The Young Sect Master of the Chengjian Sect, Lu Wenshu." Seeing his expression, Ye Pingzhou knew he didn't recognize him and introduced him: "I have had a few dealings with him. This junior is gifted and makes rapid progress; every time I meet him, I am impressed. People say he is the most talented sword cultivator since you. Perhaps..."

"Perhaps what?" Hearing this, Weisheng Ming turned back and, following the direction Ye Pingzhou indicated, looked at the Moon Wall.

On the glazed wall, there was a silhouette.

It was a girl.

A young girl, standing sideways, was lighting a lamp.

The silhouette cast by the candle was graceful, as if it would scatter at the slightest breeze.

"Is she Lu Wenshu?" Weisheng Ming asked softly.

The night breeze brushed by, and the light on the glazed wall flickered with the candles. The girl’s silhouette swayed, blurring the outline of her side profile.

Weisheng Ming was stunned. "The Moon Wall is a place for mortals to bid farewell to their loved ones. Why would the Young Master of the Chengjian Sect be lighting a lamp here?"

"You're wrong." Seeing Weisheng Ming looking in the wrong direction, Ye Pingzhou raised his hand and pointed to Lu Wenshu, who was standing not far outside the Moon Wall. "The one waiting outside is Lu Wenshu."

***

Ye Pingzhou continued the thought he hadn't finished earlier. "In recent years, he has come to the fore, his brilliance beginning to show. Many say he is the most talented sword cultivator since you. Perhaps one day, your title as the number one swordsman will fall to him."

Hearing this, Weisheng Ming smiled dismissively. "Do you think I enjoy being the number one swordsman? A confidant is hard to find, and an opponent is hard to meet. Having cultivated to this day, I have won until I no longer wish to win. Other than seeking a defeat, I have no other desire."

Ye Pingzhou had long been accustomed to Weisheng Ming’s absurd and reckless pronouncements. He asked numbly, "Why not go down and spar with him?"

Weisheng Ming narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

"Do you look down on his skill?" Ye Pingzhou asked.

Weisheng Ming laughed again. "It’s not that I look down on his skill, I just don’t want to bully a child."

Lu Wenshu stood not far from the Moon Wall. The dim light fell upon him. The night could not hide the vision of a cultivator; Weisheng Ming could see his face and the subtle expressions upon it.

He looked young in immortal years, at the age when one's heart should be most clear, yet Lu Wenshu wore a face full of heavy concerns.

"Perhaps his sword technique is good, but I fear his heart is not focused, disturbed by distracting thoughts. I doubt he is ready to fight me." Weisheng Ming withdrew his gaze with a smile. "No rush. Let's wait. There will be an opportunity in the future."

***

Having stayed on Thousand Moon Island for three days, Lu Chanji had seen almost all the sights, visited many mortal shops, and observed many mortal families. She had secretly decided that when she left the Chengjian Sect at twenty-five, she would come to live here.

This was where her parents were buried, and it was filled with peach blossoms. Lu Chanji loved peach blossoms. Yan Province was full of high mountains and steep ridges, with few peach trees. In the Chengjian Sect, aside from her Listening Spring Pavilion, there were few flowers or plants. But the flowers in her pavilion’s courtyard could not compare to the blossoms covering the mountains and plains, and they lacked the folk customs and the vibrant hustle and bustle of the people living here.

Lu Chanji had seen the most beautiful peach blossoms in the world here, and she thought Thousand Moon Island was wonderful.

When she died, she wanted to be buried here, just like her parents.

By then, she would plant a peach tree in front of her grave in advance. If Lu Wenshu was too busy to visit her, every Qingming Festival, there would be falling blossoms to pay respects to her.

But now that her parents' remains had been found, Lu Chanji did not know how to raise the subject of leaving the sect to Lu Wenshu. She was a bit troubled. On the way back to the Chengjian Sect, seeing the gloom between Lu Wenshu’s brows, she asked, "Did these three days in the mortal realm delay your sword practice?"

Lu Wenshu’s expression softened upon hearing this, and he shook his head. "Of course not. Why would A-Chan think that?"

Lu Chanji looked at him. "Your face looks very unhappy."

"It's nothing." Lu Wenshu was clearly preoccupied but didn't say much to Lu Chanji.

He was only thinking about why Weisheng Ming had appeared on Thousand Moon Island.

And why he had appeared here, near the Moon Wall used by mortals for prayers.

Mortals could sense nothing, but cultivators could feel the fluctuations of spiritual energy between one another. Not long after standing by the Moon Wall, Lu Wenshu had felt two streams of spiritual energy from the roof.

One was already profoundly deep, and the other was unfathomable. Just by trying to probe it, he had felt the depth of the other's power and the vast gap between them.

It was actually Weisheng Ming.

Lu Wenshu had studied him and his sword, "Seven-Kill," a thousand times, and had silently observed Weisheng Ming many times on various occasions. Even though the other never looked his way and likely didn't even know he existed, he was already intimately familiar with Weisheng Ming.

Only Weisheng Ming possessed such a chilling, sharp spiritual energy that reeked of slaughter. Lu Wenshu was keen; he had sensed it immediately.

Only such powerful strength could tame the "Seven-Kill," the head of the ominous swords.

For the past few days, Lu Wenshu had been dwelling on the feeling he had when trying to probe Weisheng Ming’s energy—the sensation of being pushed away by a powerful force whose depth he could not fathom was not pleasant. Weisheng Ming must have sensed his presence, yet he still didn't deign to look at him.

Without even having had a formal duel, he had lost once again, invisibly.

When would he be able to wield a sword like "Seven-Kill"? When would he possess a sharp, chilling sword aura as powerful as Weisheng Ming’s, one that would make others tremble at a single glance?

Lu Wenshu suddenly looked to his side.

Lu Chanji was standing obediently beside him.

The "Parents' Official" position on Lu Chanji’s star chart had not lit up for three full days. Before they left, he had gone with her to pay respects at their tombstone, and Lu Chanji’s "Parents' Official" would never light up again.

Her earthly ties had been completely severed; only her bond with him remained.

The look of displeasure on Lu Wenshu’s face gradually faded away, little by little.

He would soon have a fine sword that served only him as its master.

He just needed to be patient and wait a little longer.

Lu Wenshu asked Lu Chanji, "A-Chan, in a few months, it will be your eighteenth birthday. What kind of gift do you want?"

"Hmm... let me think." Lu Chanji began to ponder seriously.

Lu Chanji originally didn't celebrate birthdays; she didn't remember the exact year and month she was born. It was Lu Wenshu who used immortal arts to help her find her birth date and time. Since then, he had accompanied her every year.

As she thought, she seemed to come up with something she really wanted, but she held back. "I want so many things."

She then added, "Whatever you give me, that will be my best birthday gift."

This tease did not make Lu Wenshu’s expression change in the slightest; instead, it made her own face turn slightly red.

Before Lu Wenshu could answer, Lu Chanji shyly changed the subject, asking, "What about you? What birthday gift do you want?"

Since they were talking about birthday gifts, it was only natural to give and take. If he gave to her, she should give to him too.

Hearing this, Lu Wenshu smiled faintly. "Don't go to too much trouble."

He said, "When the time comes, whatever you give me, that will be my best birthday gift."

"Will it?" Lu Chanji was still nervous.

Lu Wenshu smiled, appearing very certain. "It will. Whatever A-Chan gives me will be the most precious gift in this world."