The Husky and His White Cat Shizun

Chapter 237: Divine Tree of Dragon Blood Mountain

Unlike his time in the Peach Blossom Spring, he was no longer an active participant this time; he was merely a spectator. None of the figures from his memories could see him. He walked over to the cavalrymen, head bowed, his gaze fixed on the young man weeping bitterly as he clung to the corpse.

A blue vein throbbed incessantly within his skull, pulsating with a life of its own.

He felt a bone-chilling cold, causing his skin to prickle with goosebumps all over.

Witnessing this scene again, he was acutely aware of the role this young man had played in the dramatic upheaval in Linan – betraying the Governor's son, Chu Xun, to bring his foster father back to life, at the cost of sacrificing the entire city and its inhabitants.

"Xiaoman, one cannot bring the dead back to life. Don't grieve too much. We can't stay here for long. Let's return swiftly."

"No... No... I'm not going anywhere. I want Father... He, he went to find food for me and that's why he lost his life. It's my fault, Father! Daddy!"

Mo Ran fixed his gaze upon the young man.

Who is this person?

Is it Huai Zui's father? Or perhaps...

His gaze fell upon Xiaoman's left hand, where at the base of the thumb, there was a tiny black mole, no bigger than a grain of rice.

Suddenly, he recalled Master Huaiwei's hand. It was in the exact same spot, with an identical mole, down to the finest detail.

Mo Ran was astonished.

At that moment, the distant voice sounded again, slow and deliberate.

"I was born in Lin'an, without parents. I was taken in by a stablehand working for the prefecture's residence. When I was fourteen, the Realm of Ghosts split open, bringing calamity to Lin'an. Our home had no rice or provisions, and my hunger was unbearable. My foster father bravely ventured out of the city to find food for me, but he didn't return by evening."

Pulse-racing shock—

Was Huai Zui really Xiaoman from two hundred years ago?!

Huai Zui whispered softly, "When I left the city and found him, he had already been killed by an evil spirit. His intestines were spilled out, and his eyes had been pecked out by crows. That scene is something I'll never forget for as long as I live."

Mo Ran's ears rang as he followed Xiaoman into the city. Back then, in Linan, the heavens cracked, blood rained down, and the Ghost King had coerced everyone into handing over Chu Xun. He had witnessed these events before, but seeing them again still filled him with sorrow and despair at human wickedness.

He saw that fateful night when Xiaoman begged desperately, pleading with the crowd not to dismember his foster father to rid themselves of the curse, and entreating the steward to let him wait for Chu Xun's return, hoping to preserve his father's intact body.

"Please, just wait a little longer, Young Master will be back soon. I swear I'll keep watch over his body. If he reanimates, I'll ensure it doesn't happen, I beg of you..."

"You simply can't stop a reanimated corpse; you must distinguish between what is more important!"

"No! Don't tear him apart, I beg of you, don't tear him apart..."

Amidst the torrential downpour, Xiaoman relentlessly knelt and knocked his head against the ground, his entire head and face soon covered in blood. Yet, it was to no avail; his father's lifeless body was still roughly pulled from his embrace by the steward of the Taishou's residence, dragged outside the government office. They surrounded the corpse, which could transform at any moment.

Xiaoman's line of sight was obstructed. After a while, he saw blood seeping from beneath the feet of the crowd, swiftly diluting into a pale pink under the torrential rain.

"Back then, I was selfish and felt utterly disillusioned, filled with resentment towards everyone. Thus, I defected from Linan and offered myself to the Ghost King, seeking revenge."

As he spoke, Mo Ran was once again confronted with the haunting scene that had deeply stirred his soul.

A mother devoured her child's entrails.

The citizens betrayed their hero.

Chu Xun knelt on the stone steps before the City God Temple, bending low into the mud, weeping uncontrollably.

He witnessed the mob dragging Chu Xun to the temple hall, surrounding him like vultures feasting on carrion, willing to sacrifice his life for their own survival.

He saw Chu Xun remove his heart and spirit nucleus together, handing them over to the few grieving citizens, urging them to leave quickly and not linger...

Xiaoman saw all of this with his own eyes.

"I later went to the Realm of Ghosts. During countless solitary moments, I couldn't help but recall Young Master Chu's tragic state, his sacrificed heart, and how he had once treated us kindly. Every time I thought of these things, I felt deeply uneasy, increasingly unable to escape the condemnation within me."

Huaizui paused.

His voice became painfully strained.

"I am a traitor."

Mo Ran couldn't quite put his finger on the emotions swirling within him.

Good and evil could lie in a fleeting thought. Some people might already regret their actions the moment the knife falls, but what difference did it make?

There was no turning back now.

Not long after, I heard that Chu Xun's soul had descended to the Underworld. He was a good man, though his cultivation hadn't reached its peak and he couldn't ascend as an immortal through self-immolation, it was still enough for him to enter the cycle of reincarnation with a life of wealth and honor in his next existence. Yet, he didn't go. His child, his wife – due to the great calamity back then, their souls had become entangled and fragmented. So, he went to Yama and begged, offering his three lifetimes of blessings and prosperity to free his wife and child. But the outcome wasn't as smooth as he had hoped.

Mo Ran saw Huaizui rushing about in the Realm of the Dead. Ashamed and unable to face Chu Xun, he had been cautiously avoiding him. Nevertheless, he tried every means possible to pull aside the ghost soldiers and attendants, asking, "What about his wife and child? What did Yama say in the end? Can there be a way to reassemble their souls so they can reincarnate again?"

"Is there any way at all? Please, I beg of you."

"I implore you to help Mister Chu Xun. We can discuss any price to pay..."

One of the ghost attendants mocked him, "I've long heard about your glorious feats. Didn't you assist the Ninth Prince back then, leading to the death of Chu Xun's family? Why have you suddenly changed your ways now that you're in the Underworld? Are you afraid that Chu Xun, as a ghost, will come looking for you to settle scores?"

Mo Ran followed behind Huaizui, witnessing him plead with many, kneeling before many. Perhaps 'people' wasn't the right term; it should be 'ghosts'. But often, the nature of humans and ghosts were not so different.

Just as Chu Wanning had said, a soul might change its personality, preferences, or temperament, but its essence would never alter in the slightest because of life and death, reincarnation.

When the Ninth Prince learned that Huaizui was inquiring about Chu Xun's wife and child's reincarnation, he was already filled with hatred towards Chu Xun, having lost an eye in their previous confrontation. Hearing that his subordinate, Xiaoman, was secretly seeking ways to help his former master out of guilt, the prince flew into a rage.

He revoked Huaizui's authority to freely travel between the living and the dead, banishing him back to the mortal realm and stripping him of his eternal life as a ghost attendant.

"Scram back to the mortal realm. When all the netherworld's aura within you dissipates, you'll die. After death, your soul will forever be damned in the Realm of Eternal Torment, never to find redemption," Ninth King stared at Huaizui with his one remaining eye, cold and menacing. "This is the price you pay for serving your former master."

The darkness of the netherworld vanished.

Mo Ran heard the pitter-patter of rain, the soft drizzle of spring that nourished the tender green sprouts.

He saw Huaizui shave his head and become a monk, walking in the spring rain.

"I returned to the human world, where a hundred years had already passed. Though the Ghost King took my staff, the residual yin energy within me allowed me to revisit the netherworld during the hour of the Rat when yin energy was at its peak. But staying too long would take a great toll on me. I... am still very afraid of death, so I dared not linger in the netherworld. I would only secretly return when I needed clues or assistance."

Listening to his low, solemn monologue, Mo Ran watched Huaizui, his staff glowing as he walked alone through the bamboo grove. Winter plum blossoms lay in snow, while summer lotus listened to the rain. He walked on, from the vibrant spring growth to the frost-covered forest.

One pair of straw sandals after another wore out beneath his feet.

Huaizui searched and inquired everywhere, hoping to find any trace that could grant the mother and son, whose souls he had destroyed, a chance at reincarnation.

Huaizui said, "It's also my chance to atone for some of my sins."

Others might not have felt anything but ridicule for Huaizui's futile efforts. But hearing this, Mo Ran's eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

Redemption.

Every person who has made mistakes and seeks atonement yearns for it like a fish thirsts for water.

He was like that, and so was Huai Zui.

Neither of them were virtuous men; their hands were stained with blood, and their feet had trodden upon shattered skulls.

How could one seek redemption?

Could the hands that once took lives, by releasing life back into the world in a virtuous pond, wipe away all sins? He wished that the complexities of right and wrong, virtue and karma in this world were as straightforward as that.

But he knew it wasn't.

"I've spent nearly a century on this earth," Huai Zui sighed softly. "In these hundred years, I've come to the aid of those in distress and rescued those in suffering. I know it's futile; no matter how much good I accumulate, I'll still descend into hell after death and endure endless torment. But I just want to ease my conscience. I can only imagine that if Lord Jun were still alive, he would... also share the worries and hardships of others, wouldn't he?"

A hundred years' worth of memories flowed by.

He saw Huai Zui walking through the mountains with an orphan who had lost his sight, helping with farm work in the fields, mending old clothes under a solitary lamp, yet donating all his wealth to rebuild villages ravaged by evil spirits.

"Young Master Chu, he never reincarnated. Later, I picked a vibrant peony from the mortal realm, remembering it was his and his wife's favorite flower. Driven by a surge of courage, I ventured into the Netherworld to see him. Needless to say, he refused me entry and forbade my return."

The scene showed Hua Zui standing amidst the alleys of the Netherworld, his slender silhouette etched in clarity.

By then, his back had already begun to stoop.

"I didn't dare trouble him further and never appeared before him again. But he didn't discard that peony. Perhaps he still has affection for mortal realm objects, even if he can't see them in the Underworld. So I gathered more and sent them to him through others, hoping that my hatred in his heart might lessen, even just a tiny bit."

"Later on, I heard that Lady Chu's soul could be restored with time, but her son's three souls and seven spirits were irreparably shattered. It seemed there would be no trace of him, neither in heaven nor earth. Upon learning this, I was overwhelmed with guilt and regret—until one day, I obtained something."

Amidst a moonlit spring mountain, a misty river stretched below.

Hua Zui sat in the cabin of a boat, the flickering lights of fishing boats reflected in the water, also illuminating the object he held in his hands.

Mo Ran approached to take a look. Sitting beside Hua Zui, he noticed it was a piece of wood. This wood was peculiar; other tree branches had rough bark and intricate patterns, but not this one.

It was only as large as a palm, its smooth and delicate bark shimmering with a faint luster. Even within the illusion, Mo Ran felt as though he could sense a subtle fragrance emanating from the wood.

"The Divine Flame Emperor's Tree."

"!"

Mo Ran's eyes suddenly widened in disbelief as he gazed at the glowing, broken branch.

This was... the Flame Emperor's Divine Tree? !

A mythical tree that flourished in the uncharted depths of the Eastern Sea, said to have stood for countless millennia? Mo Ran, having lived two lifetimes and wandered the martial world for years, was well acquainted with the legends of the Flame Emperor's Divine Tree.

It could bring the dead back to life and restore flesh to bones.

Its wood could be refined into divine weapons even more potent than those of the gods.

And it was rumored to aid mortals in ascending directly to immortality, freeing them from the cycle of reincarnation forever.

Hua Zui clearly knew these tales as well. In a soft voice, he said, "The divine tree possesses a spirit. If its essence is fused into a spiritual core, ascension to immortality would be imminent. ...Then I would no longer be plagued by the curse of hell, and I could finally be free."

Mo Ran abruptly recalled the rumors surrounding Hua Zui.

People whispered that he had declined an invitation from the Heavenly Realm, choosing instead to remain forever on earth.

Could it be that the truth was he failed to refine the Flame Emperor's Divine Wood?

"I really... truly wanted to claim this divine wood for myself. For a while, I even thought it was fate, a sign of heaven's mercy, forgiving me and sparing me from the agony of hell. That's why this divine wood fortuitously came into my life."

In the cabin, Huaizui caressed the piece of divine wood with longing and confusion in his eyes. His expression was a paradox, echoing the voice resonating in Mo Ran's ears.

"But I once read in an ancient text that the Flame Emperor's Divine Wood is similar to Nuwa's Legacy Land. With this wood, one could create a living being."