The Husky and His White Cat Shizun

Chapter 105: Master's Human Soul

The lamp flickered, illuminating two figures.

They were no longer at the Netherworld Ferryman's Hall. Chu Wanning had arrived at Mo Ran's quarters. He couldn't see his path, so Mo Ran took his hand and led him along.

Having lost both of his souls, Chu Wanning was oblivious to the current date and didn't recognize who held his fingers tightly. Drifting in a daze, he followed Mo Ran, who guided him into the room, wiped away the tears on his face, and closed the door.

Chu Wanning placed the bowl of wontons down. Feeling his way, he approached the bedside and whispered,

"Is Mo Ran still asleep?"

"..."

Not receiving a response, Chu Wanning assumed Mo Ran was indeed still sleeping. He sighed, feeling a touch of wistfulness.

Mo Ran, moved by compassion and afraid that Chu Wanning would leave again, sat down by the bed and said, "Master, I'm awake."

Upon hearing his name, Chu Wanning's brow twitched slightly. Then, with a soft "mm," he hesitated, not speaking further.

Knowing that Mo Ran was sensitive, he might leave if he felt Shi Mo was present, so Mo Ran picked up a hairpin from the table and threw it at the door, imitating the sound of Shi Mo leaving. He then asked, "Why is Master here? Who brought you?"

As expected, someone with half his soul like Chu Wanning was more gullible than usual. After a moment of stunned silence, he said, "Shi Mingjing brought me here. Did he leave?"

"Yes."

"Hmm…."

After a moment of silence, Chu Wanning finally spoke, "Your wound on your back…"

"It's not Master's fault for the injury on my back," Mo Ran whispered. "I was the one who recklessly plucked precious herbs. Master had every right to punish me."

Chu Wanning was slightly taken aback by his words. Then, his delicate eyelashes fluttered as he sighed. "Does it still hurt?"

"No, it doesn't."

Chu Wanning raised his hand, his cold fingertips gently exploring Mo Ran's face. After a moment, he said, "I'm sorry. Don't hold a grudge against Master."

Back then, he would never have said such conciliatory words. But after his death, his wandering soul in the underworld made him reflect on the past, realizing that he had no regrets except for being too harsh on his disciple. Thus, when given another chance to relive this scene, these words that he had once been too embarrassed to say flowed out naturally.

Mo Ran felt as if a warm spring had flowed through his heart, washing away the lingering resentment from his rebirth, the old wounds of years past, and the unresolved bitterness. All that was left was dust, swept clean by this sincere apology to its very core.

In the light of the Soul Summoning Lantern, he gazed at his Master's face. The bloodstains seemed to vanish, and the pallor regained a hint of vitality. Through the unbridgeable gap of time, he saw again that gentle expression from their first encounter.

Unable to resist, Mo Ran raised his hand, covering his Master's cold one with his warm one.

"I don't hate you," he said. "Master, you've been good to me. I don't hate you."

Chu Wanning was lost in thought for a moment before suddenly smiling.

Even in death, with soiled and mottled features, his smile still melted like frozen springs, filling the room with the warmth of spring. His eyes were closed, but they shimmered with brilliance between his lashes. It was a radiant smile, free of any posthumous regrets, dazzlingly bright. It was proud yet restrained, enchanting without being coquettish, like the most vibrant and steadfast peony in full bloom, adorning its branches with countless tender petals, a profusion of fragrance and splendor that sparkled like stars among the leaves.

Mo Ran couldn't help but be captivated...

This was the first time in both his lives that he had seen Chu Wanning so relaxed and joyful. Feeling clumsy, Mo Ran thought of the phrase "a smile as beautiful as a blooming flower," but it didn't seem fitting. Then he considered "charisma born from a single smile," which seemed even more absurd.

In the end, he couldn't come up with a single word or phrase to describe the breathtaking sight before him.

All he could do was repeatedly exclaim, "Beautiful."

How could someone so captivating have gone unnoticed before?

As if struck by a sudden insight, Mo Ran softly said, "Shifu, there's something I want to tell you."

"Hmm?"

"I didn't know that Madame Wang's peach blossom was so precious. When I picked it the other day, I intended to give it to you."

Chu Wanning seemed taken aback. Mo Ran's voice softened, tinged with embarrassment and a sense of vulnerability as he repeated, "It... It was for you."

"Why would you pick a flower for me?"

Mo Ran's face flushed. "I-I-I don't know, I just thought it was pretty. I... "

He didn't continue, but a faint surprise stirred in his heart. He realized he still remembered the feelings he had when he picked that flower for Chu Wanning so long ago.

Without his other two souls, Chu Wanning was truly gentle, like a cat without its claws, leaving behind only a submissive, soft belly and round, snowy paw prints.

He ruffled Mo Ran's hair and chuckled. "You're so silly."

"…Mm." Mo Ran's eyes suddenly welled up with emotion. He looked up at Chu Wanning and sniffed. "Truly foolish."

"Promise me you won't do it again next time."

"I promise I won't do it again."

Mo Ran pondered for a moment, recalling his past life when he had given up on himself, wreaking havoc and oppressing both men and women, causing immense frustration to Chu Wanning. In the end, his master had lost all hope, leaving him with the devastating verdict that echoed through his entire existence: "Vile in character, unrefined in nature." A myriad of emotions swirled within him. "Master, I swear to you, I won't disappoint you anymore. I'll strive to be good, not evil."

Though he hadn't read extensively and couldn't articulate grand promises, a surge of passion filled his chest. It was as if the innocent soul he once possessed as a child had finally awoken from its slumber.

"Master, your disciple is slow to understand, yet only now do I realize how kindly you have treated me."

With his gaze intense, he climbed out of bed and knelt before Chu Wanning, bowing deeply.

When he lifted his head again, the young man's expression was solemn, utmost in seriousness.

"From this day forward, Mo Ran will no longer bring shame upon you."

The two of them engaged in a heartfelt conversation, though mostly it was Mo Ran doing the talking. When he set his mind to cherish someone, he could be truly endearing. Chu Wanning listened quietly, occasionally shaking his head with a gentle smile. Unnoticed, the sky outside began to lighten, as if the dense ink of Huizhou had been diluted.

The night was drawing to a close.

Master Huaizui stood by the stone bridge, the rushing river splashing onto the hem of his monk's robe, but he was oblivious, silently waiting.

A sun began to rise slowly in the east, its rays piercing through the forest and leaves, casting light upon the ever-flowing Yellow Spring River. In an instant, the river turned golden, its waves shimmering like the delicate scales on a dragon's body. Where the water churned, the radiance dazzled, overflowing with vibrant hues.

He was now in a realm of nothingness, visible only to those who had found the remnants of Chu Wanning's soul. Both Shi Mo and Xue Meng had come and gone, yet they failed to spot the old monk by the riverbank. He appeared unperturbed, but the beads in his hand were turning faster and faster, more frantic with each passing moment.

"Clatter!"

Suddenly, the endless circle of prayer beads snapped apart, the starry moon sandalwood beads raining down, scattering across the ground with a loud noise.

Huaizui abruptly opened his eyes, pressing his lips together, his face paling with alarm.

Such an ominous omen. He rubbed the broken string of the Buddha beads between his palms, watching as the beads from the river splashed onto the shore, and those on land tumbled back into the water... Lost in thought for a long while, his complexion gradually turned ashen.

"Master!"

Someone called out to him suddenly.

"Master!"

Eagerly, enthusiastically.

Huaizui instantly followed the sound and saw Mo Ran dashing over from a distance, holding a lantern that shimmered with both golden and red light, as if he were flying.

The dawn was dazzling, but the young man's eyes were brighter than the rising sun, sparkling like crystal. He ran up to Huaizui, his cheeks slightly flushed, breathing heavily but brimming with uncontrollable excitement.

"I found him." Mo Ran brushed aside the loose strands of hair from his forehead, clutching the lantern that held Chu Wanning's soul tightly against his chest. "He didn't refuse to see me. He's... here." Pointing at the lantern in his arms, he seemed reluctant to part with it, hesitating for a moment before attempting to hand it over to Huaizui. However, his arm only stretched out a few inches before retracting back.

Huaizui breathed a barely perceptible sigh of relief, looking him up and down with amusement. "Since you found him, you should just hold onto him. There's no need to give him to me."

Mo Ran continued to cradle the lantern carefully.

Huaizui picked up his staff leaning against the tree and gently tapped the river. A bamboo raft, entirely green and tied with a white string at its prow, materialized by the riverside.

"There's no time to lose. Please board the raft, benefactor."

It was common knowledge that the spring on the Summit of Life and Death connected to the Netherworld. However, due to the barrier, one couldn't simply follow the river to reach the underworld successfully.

Master Huaizui's bamboo raft was enchanted to traverse the realms of the living and the dead, allowing it to travel vast distances. Mo Ran sat alone on it, and within half a day, he found himself before a waterfall.

The Yellow Springs Waterfall.

This waterfall connected Heaven above with the Netherworld below, stretching boundlessly, vast and endless. A curtain of cascading pearls fell, sending mist soaring like thin smoke.

Before Mo Ran could take a closer look, the bamboo raft plunged straight towards the waterfall as if facing a prehistoric behemoth. Before he could react, a barrage of powerful water columns struck like countless blades, ready to tear apart flesh and blood!

"Shifu—!"

In this perilous moment, Mo Ran only worried about the Soul-Luring Lamp in his embrace. He clutched it protectively, allowing the turbulent vortex to swirl around him, the world turning dark and chaotic, but never letting go...

It was unknown how long had passed before the deafening roar of the waterfall vanished.

The stormy downpour abruptly ceased.

Mo Ran slowly opened his eyes, relieved to see the Soul-Luring Lamp unscathed. Looking up, he was left speechless by the scene before him.

The waterfall that spanned both worlds had disappeared. The bamboo raft now drifted on a serene, boundless lake, its deep blue waters shimmering with scattered stars. Countless faint spirits swam through like schools of fish. Reeds grew along both banks, their hazy, glowing blossoms dancing in the air.

On either side of the reeds, a haunting melody from a man and a woman echoed like a dream, filled with sorrow yet tranquility.

"I descend into the abyss of thunder, my limbs dissolving into mud. My skull falls into the vast cosmos, my eyes withering to dust. My heart devoured by crimson ants, my entrails picked clean by vultures... Only my soul returns... Only my soul returns..."

The yellow spring waters flow eastward, leaving behind all that once was unattainable.

Mo Ran drifted on the bamboo raft for a long while until suddenly, a towering archway emerged in the heavy darkness of the night.

As he drew closer, he saw that the archway was colossal, magnificent and grand. Yet, its intricate details were masterfully crafted, adorned with shimmering gold and vibrant colors. It resembled a monstrous beast, covered in honeycomb beads and golden jade, radiant but sinister, lurking in the darkness, baring its foul-smelling maw, awaiting countless wandering souls to be swallowed.

Approaching even nearer, the turrets appeared menacing, resembling fangs piercing through the sun, while the beast's head held an air of solemn authority, as if listening to the world's injustices.

Closer still, Chu Wanning's fragmented soul seemed uneasy. The golden light within the lantern flickered, gently swaying.

"Everything is fine," Mo Ran sensed his unease, holding the lantern close, his lips almost touching the paper as he whispered reassurances, sending more of his spiritual energy to accompany him.

"Master, don't be afraid, I'm here."

The flame quivered lightly before settling back into calm.

Mo Ran lowered his dense lashes, peering into the lamp with a smile. He reached out to touch its rim, then held it even closer.

In the pitch-black night, the three bold characters "Ghost Gate" were deeply etched and glaringly bright, as if they had just been written in the fresh blood of the living.

The bamboo raft reached the shore, and Mo Ran stepped onto the Yellow Springs Road, where even the soil reeked of blood.

Moving forward, he was surrounded by more and more souls, men and women, young and old, and even infants who had died soon after birth, their wails echoing sorrowfully as they drifted towards the depths of the underworld.

Regardless of whether one had lived as an emperor or a commoner, in wealth or poverty, with or without riches for the afterlife, all must now walk this path alone, with steely determination.

Following the surging stream of souls, Mo Ran arrived at the entrance to the Realm of Ghosts.

There sat a figure, fanning himself with a bamboo whisk, dressed like a soldier whose belly had been slit open at the time of death, causing his intestines to occasionally spill out.

Impatiently, the gatekeeper used the handle of his fan to push his organs back inside, lifting his lazy gaze to interrogate the newly deceased spirits.

"What is your name?"

"Sun Erwu."

"How did you die?"

"I... I died of old age."

The gatekeeper stamped a large seal on the ghost's identification slip, marking it "Death by Old Age," and handed it back to Sun Erwu. "Keep your slip safe. If you lose it, you'll have to get a replacement at the 17th Hall. Next in line."

Sun Erwu was nervous, as were most newly deceased, regardless of how brave or knowledgeable they had been in life. "So, do I... do I need to go through an interrogation? I'm a good person. I never even killed a chicken when I was alive. I just wanted to reincarnate into a better life, maybe even have enough money to marry a wife...".

The old man rambled on, fraught with anxiety.

The gatekeeper, growing impatient, waved him off. "Interrogation? It's not your time yet. There are so many souls in the Ghost Realm; you'll have to wait ten or eight years just for your turn to be reincarnated. It won't be much different from the mortal world. When it's finally your turn, you can tell the judge if you ever killed a chicken or married a wife. Next."

Sun Erwu was stunned. His rural accent quavered. "Ten or eight years?"

Mo Ran, standing not far away, also heard this and was equally shocked. "What? You have to wait that long for an investigation and reincarnation?"

"Of course. But if you've committed heinous crimes or your soul seems off, it's a different story." The gatekeeper, overhearing their conversation, chuckled malevolently. As he laughed, his intestines spilled out again, and he stuffed them back in. "Souls destined for the 18 Hells don't have to wait long."

Mo Ran: "..."

Sun Erwu, with his foolishness, attempted to inquire further, but the patience of the guard seemed to have worn thin. He repeatedly waved his hand, saying, "Off you go, off you go, your soul must move on. Everyone is in a hurry to be reincarnated, so please don't block the way, sir. Next, next."

With a swish of the guard's fan, Sun Erwu was sent away.

The next in line was a young maiden, her face powdered and still lovely. As she spoke, her gaze held a unique poise and charm specific to her past profession. She said in a gentle voice, "Sir, this little lady is Jin Hua. I was killed by a tyrant..."

The ghosts murmured, each with their own story and thoughts.

All the chaos and disorder of life were condensed here. Nothing could be more bustling or diverse. Yet, Mo Ran only clutched the lamp tightly in his arms.

He owed his Master, and nothing else mattered.

He simply had to find the remaining solitary soul of his Master.

"Name?"

The gatekeeper yawned and lifted his gaze to meet Mo Ran's.

Mo Ran was about to speak when the guard suddenly tensed, as if sensing something amiss with this person. He abruptly stood up and fixed his gaze intently on Mo Ran's face.

"..."

Mo Ran inwardly cursed, thinking it was not looking good. Ignoring the fact that he had died once and might have an unusual soul, just the fact that he was carrying another person's remnant soul in his embrace was enough to warrant suspicion. Yet, there was no other entrance to the Netherworld; he could not escape this scrutiny.

Therefore, he steeled himself and met the guard's stare.

The guard narrowed his eyes.

Maintaining an air of calm, Mo Ran introduced himself, "I am Mo Ran."

The guard remained silent.

Mo Ran's heart pounded like a drum, but his expression remained unruffled. "I fell victim to demonic cultivation and perished thus. Please, sir, issue me a pass for passage."