The Husky and His White Cat Shizun

Chapter 228 - Dragon Mountain, All for Naught

Upon the Soul Summoning Platform of the Confucian Wind Sect, Xu Shuanglin gazed at the golden glimmers scattering in the night, and suddenly, they reminded him of that Lantern Festival snowy night when he had tossed paper into the furnace. It had instantly turned to ashes, leaving only a few flickering embers that, across the years, still scorched him.

He looked at Luo Fenghua, Nan Gongxu, and Nan Gongliu.

If only they could remain as kin and friends for a lifetime.

But Nan Gongxu was no longer in this world. Standing here now was Xu Shuanglin, a madman, a devil, a fiend who had crawled back from the depths of hell to exact revenge on all righteous men.

There was no more Nan Gongxu.

Just like his name, he was a drifting, rootless wisp, floating aimlessly amidst the vast expanse of heaven and earth.

Time had ground down mountains and torn apart their bones.

How much more so for this tiny willow catkin?

So many years have passed, the willows have grown old, the maple blossoms have withered, and the wandering catkins drift without aim. What they have beheld is not the flowers at the ends of the earth, but the blood that stains the mountains and fields, and the hatred that blankets the sky and earth.

But why, still involuntarily, taught Ye Wangxi everything that Luo Fenghua had taught him, sparing no effort. Why, when encountering a true gentleman and kind person, can't one help but feel compassion and can no longer bear to be ruthless?

Why...

Why are you crying?

Xu Shuanglin knelt upon the Soul Summoning Platform, finally breaking into a heart-wrenching howl. Tears cascaded down his grotesquely contorted face. Clutching Luo Fenghua's spirit core, he wept until his voice grew hoarse, each sob tearing at his very soul as if extracted from the depths of his throat and blood.

"Master... Luo Fenghua..."

With meticulous planning, fueled by madness and hatred, twisted with desire, he orchestrated a scheme that spanned his entire life.

Is it all going to end like this?

Thoughts drifted back to the Spirit Mountain Sword Debate, where his resentment had simmered. Afterward, when his father passed the throne to Nan Gongliu, his frustration had boiled over, spurring him to seize power in anger.

As a seasoned translator of Chinese and English novels, I'm currently immersed in the translation of a captivating Chinese xianxia danmei novel, replete with elements intrinsic to this enchanting genre. Please find below the elegant and faithful rendering of the given text into English:

He vividly recalled his father's aged and ashen face, filled with disbelief as he stared at him.

"This position of Sect Leader is mine." His hand was around his father's throat, slowly tightening, his expression cold and ruthless, a gleam of determination flickering in his eyes. "The Confucian Wind Sect's hundred-year legacy – if you, Father, don't wish to see it destroyed, then it should be inherited by me. You are already advanced in years; it's time for you to rest."

"Susu…"

He closed his eyes, not allowing his father to continue. Veins bulged in his hand, and a chilling "crack" echoed – the sound of a throat being severed.

He removed the Confucian Wind Sect's ring, pressing it against his lips.

The ring was cold, but not colder than his face.

"I only wanted justice. Since you refused to give it to me, I'll take it myself. Father, when you're beneath the nine layers of hell, don't blame me."

He turned and left.

The scene in his memory shifted.

It was the first night after he had seized power. Servants were cleaning up the bloodstains from the aftermath of the great battle. His father was gone, the Nan Gongliu family was imprisoned in the water dungeon, and all who dared resist him had been suppressed. With everything settled, he momentarily found himself at a loss for what to do next.

In the courtyard, he lit a brazier and busied himself brewing tea. He was alone there, gently caressing the radiant sect leader's ring on his thumb.

From now on, he would be the esteemed ruler of the Confucian Wind Sect.

Needless to say, those outsiders who had schemed against him during the Spirit Mountain Congress would meet their demise at his hands, given the chance. But he was unsure how to deal with his elder brother, let alone Luo Fenghua.

As twilight deepened, the golden crow sank beneath the western horizon.

Seeing that darkness was descending, Xu Shuanglin finally made up his mind to visit his imprisoned brother and master in the water dungeon.

He brought along a few attendants. Halfway there, the last rays of sunlight vanished into the night, sending a chill down his spine. Suddenly, he felt a bit cold and dizzy.

"Esteemed Lord, what's wrong?"

Shrugging off the servants who tried to support him, Xu Shuanglin said, "It's nothing. I just remembered something that needs attending to. I'll make a quick trip back to the main hall. You don't have to follow."

Suppressing the increasingly intense pain, he pulled up the hood of his cloak and strode towards the main hall of the Confucian Wind Sect. Eventually, he could bear it no longer. Even though he was known for his endurance, he couldn't withstand running for long. Pushing the door open abruptly, he then slammed it shut behind him.

"Esteemed Lord?"

"Stay by the entrance and guard it. Do not enter or act recklessly. If anything unusual occurs, report to me immediately."

After giving these instructions to the guards, Xu Shuanglin, gasping for breath, stumbled into the depths of the grand hall. He suddenly pulled off his hood and looked down to find his skin and flesh completely cracked, covered in grotesque scars.

His first instinct was that his father had cursed him.

But then he realized it was impossible. The old man was on his deathbed, too weak even to cast a spell. How could he have done this without anyone noticing?

What was happening?

The pain was unbearable - his bones snapped, his flesh contorted. He trembled violently by the window, his knuckles turning pale and twisted as he clawed at the ground, leaving red marks.

It was truly too painful...

He dared not scream nor call for a medic. The situation was still unstable, and as the leader of the rebellion, he couldn't afford to show any vulnerability.

He groaned and gasped, writhing and convulsing on the floor. In his agony, he unintentionally tore down a hanging curtain, which landed upon him, blocking the moonlight from outside.

Suddenly, the pain eased dramatically. Xu Shuanglin was drenched in cold sweat as he gasped for air beneath the curtain. After a while, assuming the agony had passed, he pulled back the curtain and sat up straight, attempting to stand.

To his surprise, under the moonlight, his wounds reappeared, causing excruciating pain throughout his body.

Only then did Xu Shuanglin realize that he might not be able to expose himself to the moon. He stumbled to his feet, struggled to close the window, and hid in the darkest corner of the grand hall, where it was so dark that one couldn't see their own fingers.

His breathing gradually calmed down.

The pain vanished, and the bleeding wounds visibly healed before his eyes.

Feeling intrigued, Xu Shuanglin wrapped himself tightly in his cloak, ensuring not a single inch of skin was exposed. He rushed to the Book Collection Pavilion and searched all night until he found an old scroll in his grandfather's book chest.

It turned out that the founding leader of the Confucian Wind Sect, Nangong Changying, had once battled the monstrous Gu. Although he ultimately triumphed and sealed the beast beneath the Golden Drum Tower, Nangong had fallen victim to Gu's malevolent curse.

The ancient monster was Yin-aligned, intrinsically tied to the darkness of night and the moon's glow. It cursed every leader of the Confucian Wind Sect: upon exposure to moonlight, their flesh would tear, inflicting unbearable pain.

On nights of the full moon, when Yin energy was at its peak, even hiding in the darkest corners would amplify the torment.

For centuries, this had been the sect's greatest secret, shrouded in silence by each successive leader. They feared that someone might exploit this weakness, infiltrating the sect during such vulnerable moments. Even a son would not be told the truth until the very end.

How ironic.

All his efforts had led him to a tainted position of power?

The following day, Xu Shuanglin arrived at the water dungeon.

Nan Gongliu and his wife, Rong Yan, were both imprisoned there, while Luo Fenghua was held in another secret chamber.

He didn't visit Luo Fenghua, instead heading straight for his elder brother's cell.

"A'Xu! A'Xu! What are you doing? What are you doing...?" Nan Gongliu was incredibly agitated upon seeing him, but with his limbs sealed by curses, he could only kneel on the ground, tears streaming down his face as he looked at his younger brother. "Have you lost your mind? Is a position as Sect Leader worth all this?"

Despite a night of torment, Xu Shuanglin still looked weak, yet he smiled coldly. "I'm just reclaiming what's rightfully mine."

Silence.

"You stole my sword techniques, ruined my reputation. I was only twenty, Nan Gongliu," he paused, his gaze icy cold. "At twenty, you showed me a life of mediocrity."

He slowly walked over, his cloak dragging along the ground. Then, he lowered his head to stare at his brother's face.

"Nan Gongliu, even a good-for-nothing like you yearns for power and desires to rise above others. What about me then?" He spoke slowly. "I've outdone you in diligence, talent, and every other aspect. The only thing I can't compete with is your tongue."

He pinched Nan Gongliu's chin, applying pressure with his fingers to pry open the tightly clenched mouth.

Fixing his gaze on the slimy, sticky pale red object inside, he said, "Truly a deadly weapon that leaves no trace. Let's cut it off."

Nan Gongliu's eyes widened in terror, but unable to speak with his mouth held shut, he could only whimper, drool continuously flowing down.

"Refusing to cut it?" Xu Shuanglin scoffed. "Fine, I won't slice your tongue. Considering we were once brothers, I'll consider sparing your life by giving you a quick and merciful death."

The moment he released his grip, Nan Gongliu burst into tears. "Don't kill me! Please don't! No, isn't it just about the incident at the Spirit Mountain Congress? You... You take me out, and I'll clear your name before the entire world! I'll give you justice!"

"It's too late," Xu Shuanglin said, pulling out a pristine white handkerchief to wipe his hands. He glanced at Nan Gongliu indifferently. "Now, whatever you say, the world will believe it's only under my coercion that you reluctantly admit guilt. The dirt you've thrown at me can never be washed away."

Before Nan Gongliu could respond, a sharp feminine voice cut in from the side.

"Nan Gongxu! Yes, you've been wronged, but what are you doing now? Killing your father, seizing the sect leader's ring, and now attempting fratricide – how... how could you be so heartless?"

"Oh, Senior Sister Rong," Xu Shuanglin smiled slightly. "If you hadn't spoken, I would have forgotten you were here."

Though bound by a spell and kneeling, Rong Yan's expression was fierce. Though tears filled her eyes, they did not show weakness. "Back then... I truly misjudged you."

"What difference does it make if you judged me correctly or not?" Xu Shuanglin chuckled. "It was you who gave me the sachet at first, and you who married Nan Gongliu later. You betrayed me first, sister-in-law. Now, how can you have the nerve to bring up past matters? Are you trying to tell me that you had no choice, that he forced you?"

Rong Yan's face paled, as if she wanted to say something but ultimately bit her lip and slowly closed her eyes.

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

The knife was in his hand, shimmering with a cold light.

"No... No... Ah Xue, you can say anything, we can discuss anything... Please don't kill me... I beg you, don't kill me..."

"Are you mistaken about your position?" Xu Shuanglin wiped the blade, still wearing that devilish smile. "Nan Gongliu, now I am the sect leader, and you are a captive. You have nothing to bargain with. Do you really think you can negotiate with me? What leverage do you have? Your worthless life?"

"I can serve you like an ox or a horse! I can... repay your kindness a hundredfold! I, I am willing to do anything! As long as you want it, Senior Sister Rong can return to you!"

Rong Yan abruptly opened her eyes and turned her head in anger. "Nan Gongliu!"

Nan Gongliu was trembling uncontrollably, completely ignoring his wife as he whimpered to his younger brother, "As long as you let me go... please, just let me go..."

"Drop it," Xu Shuanglin said indifferently, tapping his face with the hilt of his blade. "Do you really think I'd touch an orange someone else has licked?"

"But I can still... I can still..." Nan Gongliu racked his brains but couldn't think of anything. Tears and snot flowed endlessly, and finally, he burst into tears. "Ah Xue, we once promised that we'd share cakes and climb roofs together... We practiced cultivation, celebrated Lantern Festival with our master, learned to play the zither. Do you remember those days? Have you forgotten them all?"

Xu Shuanglin's expression darkened slightly, but he only sneered in response. The blade was raised, then swung down after a moment.

"Ahh!!"

"Wait!!"

The cold blade suspended mere inches from Nan Gongliu's neck. Xu Shuanglin wasn't sure if he could have swung it forward even an inch further without those two cries.

But his face remained unchanged, and he said coolly, "What now? You both seem to have quite a few last words."