The Husky and His White Cat Shizun

Chapter 240: "Dragon Blood Mountain" is for People

That single command to stop was like the tolling of doomsday's bell.

Mo Ran already knew what he would witness next. His hairs stood on end, and his blood rushed through his veins. He desperately wanted to break free from this illusion and flee, yet at the same time, he yearned to rush back in time to shield Chu Wanning with all his might.

"No... Unsin... You can't..."

But he could not prevent any of it; everything had already transpired.

He could only watch numbly as the scene unfolded before him. Chu Wanning knitted his dark brows, his expression resolute and unyielding as he met Unsin's gaze head-on.

Unable to control himself, Mo Ran yelled at him, "Run! Run!"

Young Chu Wanning had always trusted Unsin, his master who had raised him as a sacrificial offering, and his adoptive father who was also his savior. Even in the depths of his disappointment, he failed to detect the murderous intent lurking behind Unsin's eyes. Mo Ran stood in front of him—knowing it was futile, but still unable to stand idly by.

"Please, just run..."

Chu Wanning did not budge. Like a towering pine, he stepped forward toward Unsin, stopping only when he stood face to face with him. His high ponytail whipped wildly in the wind, tangling with the bloodstained and muddy robe that fluttered around him.

With a quiver of his lips, Huai Shui crushed the words, "If you wish to leave the temple and descend the mountain, you may."

"Shifu?" Chu Wanning's phoenix eyes widened slightly. Naive to the wickedness of human hearts, he saw the executioner's raised blade as a bright, luminous moon by the window. For a moment, he was grateful and overjoyed.

He believed that Huai Shui had finally understood him.

But the butcher's knife was cold and deadly, its intent clear. Huai Shui continued, "The moment you step out of this courtyard tonight, you will no longer be a part of Wu Bei Temple. Our fourteen years of master-disciple relationship will end with this, severed in two by a single blow."

"..." The phoenix eyes remained wide, though their contents shifted from joy to astonishment and sorrowful chill.

Chu Wanning likely never anticipated Huai Shui's unwavering determination. Standing stiffly in place for a long while, he finally moved his lips. Mo Ran, beside him, was anxious, repeatedly whispering, "Please, just go. Leave now, stop talking, just get away from here."

His lips moved, but coherent words failed to form.

Huai Shui stared at him intently. This was the biggest gamble he had ever taken. Wanning was deeply sentimental; they had been each other's only companions for these past fourteen years. If he severed this master-disciple bond, it would be like cutting out his heart. He shouldn't—

Chu Wanning knelt down.

"..." Huai Shui was stunned.

Still numbly, he thought to himself, No, how could he be so resolute and stubborn?

Chu Wanning knelt and prostrated himself.

One bow, two bows, until the ninth.

He lifted his face again, his eyes clear, no tears in sight, but his cheeks were wet.

"Disciple Chu Wanning pays respects to Master for nurturing and teaching me. From now on..." His Adam's apple bobbed. What comes after that? He didn't know; he couldn't continue.

Perhaps it was the fierce wind and cold weather that made Huai Zui's body sway slightly in the breeze. His kasaya fluttered wildly, and the wind filled his sleeves. His expression grew increasingly grave and cold, his lips losing their color as he stared at the person kneeling before him.

That piece of...

Wood! Wood!

He had carved and painted it, giving it life with his own blood. He had taught it with all his heart and exhausted his efforts.

For fourteen years, he had done so much—just to send this piece of wood to the Netherworld and turn it into a vessel for Chu Lan's soul, not to see it standing here today, eloquently discussing national affairs and people's welfare. What was it, then?

--A piece of discarded trash!

Split firewood!

The flames within him raged, blazing into his eyes with the intensity to shatter heaven and earth, fueling an irresistible impulse.

This kind of Sin-Harboring was too perilous. Mo Ran bent down, attempting to embrace Chu Wanning, but he couldn't grasp him, couldn't touch him. Chu Wanning remained obstinate, kneeling right where he was, stubborn due to his adherence to principles, and compliant because of his guilt.

In Chu Wanning's eyes, Sin-Harboring's face grew ever more grotesque, while his own heart held onto that unquenchable surge of fiery passion.

He seemed to have been born solely for the sake of others, this log of wood without a spirit or soul.

Kneeling on the ground, the one thing he had never considered was himself.

" WANNING... " Mo Ran's voice suddenly caught in his throat. He raised his hand, reaching out to caress a face he could not touch. "Please... go... just go..."

The sound of metal hitting the ground echoed, interrupting his plea.

Mo Ran turned his head slowly to see a curved blade lying on the cobblestone floor – it was the weapon that belonged to Huai Wei.

Beneath the moonlight, the Butcher's eyes shimmered with an endless glow of blood. He kicked the crescent blade again, sending it skidding straight to Chu Wanning's knee.

"No, no, no, don't, don't."

Mo Ran was in a state of utter panic. He lunged for the knife, but its tip slipped through his fingers like a wisp of smoke; he couldn't grasp it, no matter how desperately he tried.

Finally, a slender and well-proportioned hand reached out, firmly seizing the blade that had eluded Mo Ran's grasp.

At that moment, Chu Wanning's expression was eerily calm. The initial shock had worn off, and the immense pain he felt seemed to subside as Huai Zui threw the curved knife at him.

He appeared quite at ease.

"If Master wishes for my life, I shall give it." Chu Wanning said. "Living for fourteen years or living for one hundred and forty—there is no true difference if both are spent confined within these same borders."

Huaizui's expression suddenly didn't resemble that of the detached and otherworldly monk at all. For a moment, Mo Ran could clearly see Xiaoman's reflection in his face.

That Lin'an rainy night, the shadow of the youth on the eve of his betrayal, amidst the whispers of immortal love and intrigue.

"Chu Wanning," Huai Zui said in a grim tone, "If you wish to sever ties with me, I shall not attempt to dissuade you. For the past fourteen years, I have not begrudged you any necessities of life. But you must return to me what you have learned."

"Hmm..."

Huai Zui narrowed his eyes. "I'm taking your spirit core."

A spirit core was the most refined essence of a cultivator; it would be no different for a divine tree. With it, perhaps he could recreate Chu Wanning.

This time, he wouldn't teach him about righteousness or the welfare of all living beings. He wouldn't let him learn compassion and kindness.

He wanted Chu Wanning's spirit core.

The heart of a living person.

Chu Wanning looked at him for a moment. The light and shadows in the meditation hall shifted as monks in the Great Hall chanted their evening prayers. Their voices echoed, distant yet profound, like sandalwood incense rising to the heavens.

Huai Zui's voice sounded again in Mo Ran's ear, but this time, he spoke only two sentences, as if expending all his courage and strength in those words.

His voice seemed to age a hundred years in an instant.

"He knelt on the ground, looking up at me, and I suddenly wondered if that was the expression Buddha wore when forgiving mortals who had wronged him."

"He pities his executioner, the life beneath the blade, and the butcher stained with blood."

"NO!!!" Mo Ran screamed hoarsely.

But as the flash of the blade crossed his vision, he abruptly shut his eyes. A piercing sound echoed, and Mo Ran curled up on the ground.

"Don't..."

Warmth gushed forth, flesh and bone severed.

Mo Ran crawled over to Chu Wanning, weeping and wailing as he frantically shook his head. Disheveled and distraught, he desperately tried to stem the flow of blood from Chu Wanning's wounds, attempting to infuse spiritual energy to stop the bleeding.

It was all in vain.

All in vain.

He helplessly watched Chu Wanning endure the pain, using sorcery to prevent himself from blacking out instantly. He watched, his eyes wide with horror, as Chu Wanning pushed the knife into his chest, inch by inch. Blood, hot and abundant, flowed freely.

Scorching, rushing, fervent.

How could it not be a living person?

Flesh, torn flesh.

Scarlet, sweet and bloody, shattered.

How could it not be a living person?! How could it be??

Huaizui stood frozen in place, his expression still locked in that final moment, appearing grotesque and cruel, but his eyes shimmered, trembled, quaked, and were lost in confusion...

Was this truly what he had hoped for?

In that instant, the scroll suddenly became turbulent and blurred. The scene before Mo Ran's eyes twisted and jumbled due to Huaizui's emotions when he created the scroll.

He saw so many past events emerge from the blood, each one tender and true.

Mo Ran saw a twelve-year-old Chu Wanning, after summoning Tianwen in Jin Chengchi, preparing to leave. But then, a vintage zither with a tail resembling a peach blossom wood emerged from the lake. As it surfaced, Chu Wanning's body also radiated a dazzling light, seemingly in harmony with it. He touched the strings of the zither in surprise and confusion, "What is this? What's going on?"

Huaizui immediately guessed that this ancient zither was likely crafted from a segment of the Flame Emperor's divine wood, sharing the same lineage as Chu Wanning. Thus, it naturally sensed him. His expression was animated, a mix of surprise, delight, and anticipation, "This should be your destined divine weapon."

"Fated Divine Warrior?"

Huai Zui's eyes flickered with surprise, yet he evaded the question: "Indeed, there are some with extraordinary innate qualities, born with an inexplicable connection to divine warriors."

Chu Wanning chuckled. "I have extraordinary innate qualities?"

"..." Huai Zui dodged the question and instead stroked the wooden body of the Nine Songs zither, sighing. "This ancient zither seems fated to be with you; it might not even require a spirit core to summon... It's linked to your bloodline."

The scene changed, and Mo Ran saw two figures walking outside Lin'an City – Huai Zui following behind the young Wanning, urging him to slow down.

He saw steaming flower cakes, Chu Wanning's carefree smile through the mist.

He saw Chu Wanning in a tavern, holding a small palm fan, puffing with effort as he tried to cool Huai Zui, who was meditating.

He witnessed Chu Wanning's first taste of osmanthus-sweetened lotus root, the sticky sweetness coating his mouth, making him burst into laughter at Huai Zui.

Finally, the illusion froze on a summer evening by a lotus pond. The endless green lotus leaves stretched to the sky, and the pond was filled with vibrant blossoms. Red dragonflies danced gracefully, landing gently – it was a perfect evening.

The five- or six-year-old Chu Wanning giggled as he mimicked Huai Zui, sitting cross-legged, his dark, warm eyes gazing at his master. "Master, Master, let's play again, just one more time."

Huaizui said, "No more games. Master needs to go to the scripture hall and chant scriptures for the departed."

"But just once more, please, last time, I promise it's the last time."

Before the elder monk could respond, the little one had already rolled up the sleeves of his grayish-green novice robe. With lotus flowers swaying, he eagerly reached out his small hand to touch Huaizui's, who didn't want to engage, his voice as sweet and crisp as fresh water chestnuts.

"You say one, I say one, what blooms in the water? Lotus blooms in the water.

You say two, I say two, what blooms in clusters? Elm trees bloom in clusters."

Huaizui couldn't resist the child's smile and eventually shook his head, laughing as they clapped hands together, playing this childish game.

"You say nine, I say nine, what blooms with the wind? Dandelions bloom with the wind.

You say ten, I say ten, what blooms without leaves? Winter plum blooms without leaves."

His clothes were stained with blood, and lotus petals soaked through.

In the meditation hall, Huaizui closed his eyes.

It was... a severed log.

The echoes of laughter from days past still lingered in his ears.

Yes, it was an entity without a soul.

"What blooms underwater? Hahaha, Master, you're so silly, lotus flowers bloom in water."

It was an empty vessel — the body he intended to sacrifice to Chu Xun, a timber he had acquired at the cost of a hundred years for redemption! Not a living being! Without a soul!

"Master, let's split the flower cake. You can have the bigger piece, and I'll take the smaller one."

Huaizui's tears flowed down.

He trembled violently, convulsing with fear as he rushed towards the child whose blade had pierced his heart, whose spirit core was beginning to shatter, about to be dug out.

He knelt down, wailing in agony, his voice hoarse, just like Mo Ran who, in that moment, held Chu Wanning in his arms but missed his true love, as if the knife had stabbed not into Chu Wanning's heart, but his own throat, his very soul.

How could there be no soul...?

It was him who closed his eyes and blocked his ears.

He had always known, deep down in his heart.

From Chu Wanning's smile, his earnestness, his tolerance and gentleness, his stubbornness and perseverance, he had always seen the soul within that person.

But for his own selfish gains, for the so-called redemption, he pretended to be deaf and dumb, numbing himself.

Chu Wanning had never been a wooden statue, an empty shell.

He was a person with flesh and blood, capable of laughter and tears...

"I watched him grow up day by day from when he was a child. As a boy, he resembled Chu Lan, and as he got older, he took after Chu Xun. But I never once confused him with either of them."

Huai Zui's voice was like a cracked bell, hoarse beyond measure.

"It was him who shared half his cake with me, tugged at my sleeve calling me 'Shifu,' it was him who secretly held a palm fan to cool me down, thinking I wouldn't notice. It was him who spent fourteen years by my side at Temple of No Sorrow, laughing with me, trusting me, saying I was the kindest Shifu in the world."

The words were like bile being swallowed down.

Huaizui murmured, "The most benevolent Master..."

In the painting, Huaizui restrained Chu Wanning's hand, suppressing his spiritual energy. Chu Wanning almost lost consciousness from the pain the moment the spell failed.

Huaizui held that vibrant body, its blood pulsing steadily, as if he were cradling Chu Xun two hundred years ago, whose heart illuminated the path to safety for all during the catastrophic split in Linan.

But it was different.

Chu Wanning was stubborn and proud, with his own quirks—such as sleeping without covers, absentmindedly biting his chopsticks when tired during meals, and never bothering to wash his clothes, instead soaking them all together.

They were his own habits, his own preferences.

Unique to him.

The scene plunged into darkness once more.

Perhaps it was for the best; if Mo Ran were to witness this, he might descend into madness.

In the darkness, only Huaizui's faint sigh could be heard.

"In truth, when he glared at me with determination, declaring that he would descend the mountain to uphold justice and not seek immortality, I knew he was a living, breathing human being."

"It was my weakness and selfishness that almost destroyed the child I had raised."

"He is not Chu Lan, he is not a sacrifice for my redemption."

"He is Chu Wanning. When I awakened him, it was a serene and peaceful evening, with the temple bells ringing. He was born under the watchful gaze of the majestic deities in their divine halls, and I gave him his name."

"Yet, all I truly gave him was a name. I took pride in having created him, assuming he should serve and belong to me, to be sacrificed for my sake. But as I watched him, just like Young Master Chu, prove his integrity by exposing his own heart...," Huai Zui's voice broke, struggling to continue.

After a long while, he managed to whisper hoarsely, "I finally realized that I had never given him a soul or a life of his own. Those were always his, because... because a wretched sinner like me could never create a life as pure and resilient as his."

"It was, and forever will be, impossible."