The Husky and His White Cat Shizun

Chapter 249: The Authenticity of Dragon Blood Mountain

The next morning, when Mo Ran awoke, his memories of what had transpired after he got drunk were rather hazy.

Yet, he didn't recall, but Chu Wanning would never forget.

After that day, he tactfully inquired and confirmed that Mo Ran had truly lost his memories of many past events. This only added to his unease. It took him a long time, but he eventually found a record of such an array in an ancient Medicine Sect text within the Book Collection Pavilion of Death and Life Peak.

Light poured in through the window, "Eight Sorrows, Endless Regret..."

Tracing his fingertips over the dark patterns etched into the parchment, Chu Wanning then retrieved the talisman drawn by the little dragon. Upon comparing the two, they proved to be identical in every detail.

It was a black heart, readily recognizable at first glance as the Passion Devotion Spell, yet with one distinct difference; where the Passion Devotion Spell would bear a sesame-seed-sized spot of untouched whitespace to the left of the heart, this inverse pattern situated it on the right.

The talisman marks and magical effects that Little Dragon displayed seemed to correspond with each other. It appeared to be a kind of charm similar to the Zhongqing Jue, but with an opposing effect?

In the deserted scripture repository, the ancient texts were intertwined with primordial demonic script, making them far from easy to comprehend. Though Chu Wanning had some acquaintance with demonic script, they still appeared profoundly abstruse and cryptic.

He read each word and phrase slowly, but with every sentence he understood, his astonishment grew deeper.

"The Eight Sorrows Longing Flower, a demonic seed," Chu Wanning murmured softly, his pale lips parting. "Legend has it that it was brought from the Realm of Demons to the mortal world by the God of the North Pole millions of years ago."

The book depicted an eerie seed accompanied by a drop of blood and a wisp of thin smoke.

"It's notoriously difficult to cultivate this seed," Chu Wanning continued. "It requires a decade of nourishment with demonic blood, followed by the fusion of the owner's soul, before it can germinate and bloom."

Chu Wanning muttered, "It needs demonic blood and the owner's soul to grow? But in this world... where can one find a pure demon?"

However, ancient texts might not be entirely accurate, so there was no need to delve too deeply into it.

He continued reading and saw a drawing of a heart on the silk scroll, with a magnificent double-layered flower blooming on its right side. Beside the illustration were complex demonic runes: "This demonic flower cannot survive in soil, water, or under the open sky. It can only thrive within the human heart."

Chu Wanning was startled. This seed could only grow within a person's heart?

Reading further, he found the description even more alarming.

The text on the silk scroll roughly outlined three stages once the Eight Sorrows Longing Flower took root in someone's heart.

In the first stage, the host would not show significant changes, except for gradually developing irritability and mistrust towards others. They would also start to forget pleasant memories. During this phase, although the flower was difficult to uproot, its effects could still be gradually suppressed if discovered in time. Under ideal circumstances, the Longing Flower would enter a dormant state, making it hard to take effect again.

But if undetected at this point, depending on the host's nature, it could take anywhere from ten to eight years, or it could advance swiftly with a significant emotional upheaval. The Eight Sorrows Longing Flower would then enter its second stage.

During this phase, the host would rapidly forget all pure, gentle, and hopeful memories. Instead, they would repeatedly recall the hardships, setbacks, malice, and bullying they've endured in their life.

The Eight Sufferings of Life—birth, aging, sickness, death, meeting with what one hates, separation from what one loves, desire, and the burning agony of the five aggregates—would be etched deeply into the host's psyche.

Chu Wanning's face had turned as white as frost while reading this.

Wasn't Mo Ran precisely like this?

He had forgotten his youthful aspirations, the letters he had written stroke by stroke, and even his vivid memories of his own mother had faded.

Continuing to read, Chu Wanning reached the third stage, where the host would become bloodthirsty and irrational...

Repaying their past sufferings a thousandfold to those who inflicted them.

Before Chu Wanning's eyes, an image flashed of Mo Ran laughing maniacally amidst the sea of blood at the Confucian Wind Sect, his hand charged with spiritual energy piercing ruthlessly into a cultivator's body.

With hands stained in blood, he ripped out his own heart and crushed it, relentlessly.

Many begged for mercy amidst the sea of corpses, but Mo Ran only laughed wildly, his eyes gleaming with a frenzied and maniacal light as he repeated a phrase over and over:

"Your reach exceeds your grasp... It exceeds your grasp!"

Fierce, deranged, demonic, and grotesque.

Why had Mo Ran become like this?

Back then, he had indeed harbored some suspicions, but the effects of the Eight Sorrows Long Hate Flower progressed gradually and deepened over time. The crucial point, as written on the scroll, was that this devilish flower wouldn't induce gratuitous violence; instead, it would amplify the host's existing hatred and desires.

In other words, these feelings of hatred and desire truly belonged to Mo Ran; no one had wronged him.

Mo Ran had indeed entertained the notion of slaughtering the Confucian Wind Sect, of dominating the world, and of hating and resenting Chu Wanning. But perhaps these sentiments were fleeting, buried deep within his heart, forgotten even by himself.

The Eight Sorrows Long Hate Flower, however, excavated every corner of his psyche, bringing those suppressed emotions to life.

As a result, to outsiders, the victim of the Long Hate Flower appeared to be driven mad by justified hatred, rather than suddenly transforming into an entirely different person. People would believe he "slowly became this way because of his hatred," not suspecting that "he was slowly becoming this way because of a curse."

It was precisely because of this that few could easily detect the Eight Sorrows Longing Flower within Mo Ran's body. By the time others discovered it, it would often be in the second or third stage, rendering any attempts to remove or suppress it utterly futile.

After reading this passage, Chu Wanning found himself lost in thought for a long while.

What emotions did he feel?

Surprise? Regret? Anger? Fear? Or perhaps sorrow...

He wasn't sure.

Seated on the dilapidated floor of the Book Collection Pavilion, which had fallen into disrepair over the years, it was mid-afternoon with the sun still casting a warm glow. But it failed to ignite even a spark of warmth within him.

Chu Wanning sat motionless among the volumes of books for a long time. He felt as if there was an invisible and intangible presence standing behind him. This entity laughed softly, haunting like a vengeful ghost, lurking unseen and watching their every move, listening to every word.

Lowering his head, he reread the words written on the silk scroll:

"At the first stage, if detected in time, though difficult to uproot, the Longing Flower can be restrained, ensuring the host does not lose their original nature."

Chu Wanning repeated these words to himself again and again, over and over.

In the end, he was startled to find droplets of water slowly spreading across the silk scroll. He extended his cold hand, attempting to wipe away the moisture.

But before his hand even touched the silk, it instinctively veered towards his face, covering his damp eyelashes and trembling lids.

It was his fault, his mistake. It was he who had always been arrogant, valuing his pride above all else. It was he who refused to speak openly about his feelings.

If he had noticed in time...

He wouldn't have lost sight of his true self.

Yet, after so many years, he hadn't noticed a thing. The renowned Immortal Venerable Yu Heng of the Northern Dipper, unable to discern that his disciple had become the host of a demonic flower. His aloofness and inability to communicate effectively had ultimately led Mo Ran to embark on his journey alone, into the vast darkness and the depths of a blood feud.

How could he bear to hold such a prestigious title, how could he accept Mo Ran addressing him as "Master"?

If only he had noticed in time.

Those words echoed like a nightmare, a curse lingering in his ears. He felt a prickle on his back, a lump in his throat, and overwhelming shock— he had failed as a master.

Looking back now, how long had Mo Ran's unusual behavior persisted? Not just a year or two, but countless days and nights spent side by side. Mo Ran, once a somewhat bashful yet radiant youth, had gradually been swallowed by darkness, soaked through with the stench of blood and storms.

And as his master, it took until this very day—until everything was irreparable, beyond turning back—until now, that he belatedly realized… His disciple's heart was in turmoil, his body adrift like a boat on rough waters, consumed by pain and hatred—he was unworthy of being a teacher!

That day, Chu Wanning was unsure how he managed to recompose himself, how he slowly stepped out of the Book Collection Pavilion, walking through the silent bamboo grove on the Edge of Life and Death.

He also didn't know how he returned to the Red Lotus Water Pavilion. Under the purple wisteria trellis, everything was in disarray. He sat there alone, from the bright sunshine to the dusk of evening.

Later, a figure entered his line of sight.

The man had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, an imposing presence. He walked on the ground bathed in the last rays of the sun, carrying a cup shimmering with light, strolling leisurely towards the pavilion.

Lost in thought, Chu Wanning failed to recognize the person or even the current year. The tall and handsome man overlapped with the image of the young boy in his memory—

He recalled that it was a month after their apprenticeship when Mo Ran, with a small clay pot wrapped in bamboo vines, eagerly ran to the Red Lotus Water Pavilion to find him.

The youth had run so fast that his cheeks were slightly flushed, panting, with dazzling eyes.

"Master, I tasted a particularly delicious wine down the mountain. I got some and want to treat you to it."

Chu Wanning asked, "You haven't received any assignments yet. Where did you get the money?"

Mo Ran bared his teeth in a grin. "I borrowed it from Uncle."

"There was no need to go through the trouble."

"Because Shifu likes me," Mo Ran said with a smile, holding the wine flask with both hands and offering it to Chu Wanning. "And I like Shifu too."

Chu Wanning could still recall his awkwardness and embarrassment back then.

The young man's affections were too intense, like a scorching hot potato that he couldn't hold onto.

He waved his sleeve, dismissing the notion with a stern rebuke. "Nonsense, there's no such thing as liking or not liking. You are not to speak of this again."

"Mm... alright then." The young man scratched his head, "But when I taste something delicious or drink fine wine, I'll surely think of Master. I wish to share those experiences with you, Master."

"I've never tasted alcohol before."

Mo Ran smiled. "Then we should at least give it a try? Perhaps Shifu has a tremendous tolerance for alcohol."

Chu Wanning pursed his lips, took the wine flask, uncorked it, and cautiously took a whiff, his eyes widening slightly.

"Smells good, doesn't it?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Haha, give it a try."

Chu Wanning took a sip. It was potent yet rich in flavor, leaving a fragrant aftertaste lingering on his lips and teeth. He couldn't resist taking another sip. "Not bad. What's the name of this wine?"

Mo Ran grinned widely. "This is called 'Pear Blossom White'."

It was the first time he had tasted such a drink, and he murmured the name to himself. "Pear Blossom White... It's quite a fitting name."

Mo Ran was delighted. "If you like it, once I can take on assignments and earn some silver, I'll buy it for you every day."

Chu Wanning took another sip, casting a sidelong glance at him with his phoenix-like eyes. His expression remained aloof. "Then you won't be able to save any money."

Mo Ran's smile widened. "No need to save, I'll use everything I earn to buy things for Master and Uncle and Auntie."

Chu Wanning didn't respond, but a faint crack seemed to have formed in his heart, letting out threads of sweetness. To prevent Mo Ran from noticing his joy, lest he think that Elder Yu Heng could be swayed by a mere cup of wine, Chu Wanning continued holding the flask with a composed demeanor, sipping coldly.

Beside him, his newly-adopted junior disciple chattered incessantly. Chu Wanning was often surprised; his aloof demeanor was a wall to everyone else, yet this fellow cheerfully scaled it as if nothing, even rubbing the back of his head while looking around curiously.

He must be a fool.

Meanwhile, Mo Ran pondered what he could buy in the future to please his master. He asked, "Does Master like osmanthus cakes?"

"Mm."

"How about lotus flower pastries?"

"Mm."

"Osmanthus-sweetened lotus root?"

"Mm."

Mo Ran's dimples deepened, and he chuckled. "Master really does have a sweet tooth."

This time, Chu Wanning didn't respond with his usual "hum." He had likely realized, albeit belatedly, that sweet treats didn't quite align with his perpetually cold demeanor.

He took another sip of the wine, this time out of frustration, and drank rather recklessly. Despite its sweetness, the alcohol was still potent, catching him off guard.

Being someone who cared about his image, Chu Wanning found it embarrassing to cough after drinking. So, he suppressed the urge forcefully. As he held back, the burning sensation in his throat intensified, reddening the corners of his eyes and the tip of his nose.

The young man beside him continued to speak ambitiously about his not-so-epic future, a touch of heroism tinged with regret: "Then I'll buy all of them for Shifu. In the future, I'll collect delicious foods from every corner of the world, compile them into a book, and accompany Shifu as we taste our way across the lands. And then..."

He turned with a smile, suddenly startled.

"Shifu, what's wrong with you?"

Chu Wanning: "..."

As a teacher, wouldn't it be a colossal joke to choke on wine given by one's disciple?

He must hold it in, no coughing allowed.

His eyes reddened even more, a veil of mist beginning to form in their depths.

Mo Ran seemed at a loss. "Did I say something wrong? Master, why are you crying?"

"..."

Staring at him, Chu Wanning's long eyelashes fluttered slightly, revealing some anger.

Mo Ran didn't notice his irritation. After a moment of confusion, he seemed to comprehend the situation, and his tone softened immediately. "Was no one buying these for you before?"

Chu Wanning's anger intensified.

Unaware of his master's displeasure, Mo Ran continued talking to himself. "Actually, there was a time when I couldn't eat anything and was almost starving to death. Then, on the road, I met a little brother who gave me a pot of sweet rice porridge... I like sweet things too, but nobody could buy them for me before."

This young man had a natural talent for empathy, and he firmly believed that Chu Wanning's tears were a result of being moved.

He took hold of Chu Wanning's hand.

This was entirely unexpected. Apart from being taught spells by others, the only person who had ever held Chu Wanning's hand was Huai Zui. Being suddenly and recklessly pulled by his new disciple in violation of rules left him surprised.

Just as he was about to rebuke, he lifted his eyes to see this unexpected gesture. The young face, handsome yet still youthful, looked up at him with earnestness, saying:

"Shifu, when I make something of myself, I'll buy you sweets," the young man said, his gaze soft with affection.

"I'll get you the finest candies, plenty of them. My mother taught me to repay kindness," he added.

With little formal education and having spent too much time in pleasure houses, his speech was often peculiar and somewhat comically misused vocabulary.

However, Chu Wanning knew that he had been touched by these words. He stared at Mo Ran for a moment before abruptly lowering his eyes, falling silent.

After a long while, the effects of the alcohol finally subsided. Chu Wanning coughed softly, rather uneasily, and said indifferently, "Don't speak nonsense like that again in the future. And...” A sudden curiosity struck him, and he asked, "There's something I want to ask you."

"Master, please go ahead."

Chu Wanning hesitated but eventually mustered the courage to ask, somewhat awkwardly, "Back then, there were so many people in front of the Tower of Heaven. Why did they bow to me?"

The young Mo Ran began to speak—

But right at that moment, their recollection was abruptly interrupted.

Heaven-Stepping Lord approached Chu Wanning, who stood in a daze, holding a wine jug. He raised a finger and gently tapped it against the latter's forehead.

"What's the matter?"

It was only then that Chu Wanning's eyes gradually found focus, settling on Mo Ran before him.

With a pale countenance and a malevolent expression, he remained handsome, yet the savagery in his bones was undeniable. His eyes were like those of a wild beast, keen and piercing.

No longer the fiery youth of old.

All of that is in the past.

Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming exhaustion, a profound sense of helplessness and pain that he had never experienced during his long confinement.

He was conflicted, unsure how to confront this man standing before him.

Chu Wanning turned away.

A large, slightly cool hand clasped his chin, forcing his face to turn back. The shadows danced in his phoenix-like eyes, reflecting the last remnants of the crimson sunset on the horizon and the faintly discernible, somewhat gloomy visage of Heaven-Stepping Lord in the deepening darkness: "Are you still angry?"

Chu Wanning closed his eyes, remaining silent for a long while before he rasped, "No."

"Has your fever subsided?" Before Chu Wanning could respond, Mo Ran released his chin and checked his forehead. Then, he answered himself, "Mm, it has."

He sat down, uncorking the wine jar as he spoke, "Since you're recovered and your anger has dissipated, let's properly accompany me in a drink today."

"..."

Despite knowing that there was an unseen puppet master behind Heaven-Stepping Lord, and that the seemingly tranquil Summit of Life and Death was actually fraught with danger, he knew he shouldn't rouse suspicion or behave differently.

Yet, when the wine began to pour, Mo Ran casually said, "Pear Blossom White, your favorite wine," he was momentarily lost in thought.

The aroma wafted, transporting him as if he were in another world, a dreamlike and surreal experience.

It was also the first type of alcohol he had ever tasted in his life.

A memory he would never forget.

Chu Wanning lifted his gaze to look at the person pouring the wine. He knew that Mo Ran had long forgotten this past event. Suddenly, a dull ache pierced his heart, and his throat felt sour. So, he picked up the wine cup and drank it all in one go.

The alcohol was too potent, and drinking it so recklessly would surely cause a coughing fit.

But this time, Chu Wanning had no reservations. It was as if he had clutched onto a frail reed in a raging current, coughing violently. His eyes reddened, his lashes dampened, and eventually, tears trickled down his cheeks.

Mo Ran was slightly taken aback, a fleeting moment of bewilderment flickering across his gaze.

However, he quickly narrowed his eyes and smiled slowly, almost leisurely. "What's wrong, Master? Why are you crying?"

Chu Wanning endured it all, even though his heart was torn apart, his patience stretched to the limit, and the truth laid bare before him. He could do nothing.

Not pluck the Longing for Hate Flower.

Not expose the mastermind behind it all.

Not end his own life.

Before any of that, he knew he must persevere.

Acting as if he knew nothing, pretending to be filled with hatred and fury, Chu Wanning closed his eyes, straightening his back with great effort. His voice was hoarse as he muttered, "Alcohol."

Mo Ran spoke leisurely, "Is the wine too strong?"

Chu Wanning didn't reply, instead filling the cup once more and drinking deeply, the liquor scorching its way down his throat into his lungs.

"Why did you choose to worship me?"

He unfurled his misty eyes, gazing afar, where the Tower of Heaven still stood solemnly amidst the twilight haze. Yet, the young boy who once smilingly uttered, "Because I like you, I find you amiable," could never return to those days again.

Life encompasses eight great sorrows.

Life, aging, sickness, and death. Parting from loved ones. Desires unfulfilled. Being united with those one hates. The blazing fire of the Five Aggregates.

This is known as Endless Sorrow.

There had been so many chances to uncover the truth, yet he had missed them all. By the time he finally realized the true reason behind Mo Ran's distorted nature, he was already a cripple, unable to do anything.

At night, Chu Wanning gazed at Mo Ran as he slept soundly by his pillow. That once-pure face was now veiled in a chilling darkness, his complexion as pale as paper.

He had felt hatred, resentment.

When Mo Ran severed ties with him in a stroke of his blade, his heart turned cold. When Mo Ran compelled him to submit, his heart had died.

In the endless night, within the melancholy gauze-draped bed.

Lying beside the Immortal Emperor Beyond the Mortal World, Chu Wanning, now privy to the truth, found all his past hatred, resentment, chill of the heart, and apathy to be utterly absurd.

Mo Ran had long been infected with a parasitic poison, and thus, all his actions were not at all in line with his original intentions.

The once fearsome Immortal Emperor who trod upon the path of deities is now bound by iron chains, locked away in captivity. As his master, I am powerless to do anything about it.

Unaware of the number of watchful eyes upon him, he couldn't reveal the truth to anyone.

Not even a hint of compassion or leniency could be shown to Mo Ran. He could only harbor hate, resentment, and a heart turned cold and numb.

It was only in the stillness of night, within the Wu Mountain Palace, beneath the veiled curtains, that Chu Wanning could rise once Mo Ran had fallen into a deep sleep. Then, he would gently touch Mo Ran's pale face.

And softly whisper, "I'm sorry, Master failed to protect you."