The Husky and His White Cat Shizun

Chapter 272 - The Scorn of the Heavenly Sound Pavilion

The public trial eventually concluded.

No matter who spoke up or pleaded, the outcome remained unchanged.

Following the judgment of the Heavenly Sound Pavilion's Divine Scale had been an ancient custom in the cultivation world for a thousand years. No one could escape it, and Mo Weiyu was no exception.

The area was cleared as Mo Ran was escorted to the Penitence Platform outside the pavilion.

Bound by magical artifacts, surrounded by a barrier, with guards standing watch, he would kneel there for three days and three nights, enduring ridicule and curses from passersby until the day they extracted his spirit core.

This was called public exposure.

"In Father, Mother, I want to see him."

Inside a guest chamber of the Heavenly Sound Pavilion, Xue Meng couldn't sit still. He abruptly stood up but was held back by Madame Wang.

Madame Wang said, "Don't go."

Uncharacteristically resolute, she left no room for argument.

"Don't go to the Penitence Platform. Don't see him."

"Why?! I just... I just..."

Madame Wang shook her head.

"At the precipice of life and death, our sect is in peril. How many people are demanding that we disband today? You two, father and son, must remain calm. Above all, don't provoke any more conflict. Should anything happen to the Precipice of Life and Death, whether it's Yu Heng or Ranyang, even our last resort will be cut off."

Xue Meng was lost. "But will there really be people who challenge him, surround him, and curse at him? I don't understand what happened with that Jadeson Chess Game, why he could solve it... but..."

He buried his face in his palms, his voice dampened by emotion.

"But he really did save us that day... Why do some people, who didn't experience that calamity, who didn't witness the situation, treat him like this based on hearsay?"

Why?

Xue Meng didn't comprehend; he was too pure.

Yet, Madame Wang was well aware that Xue Zhengyong understood this too.

The Heavenly Sound Pavilion was the most righteous hall in the cultivation world. Once something had been defined and had stood the test of time for centuries, few would question why it was deemed just or consider the possibility that it could be wrong. In such an influential organization, any objections would be easily drowned out.

Mo Weiyu was a sinner.

As a sinner, anyone could humiliate and vilify him.

Because they were denouncing a sinner, striking a sinner, their saliva and fists were not acts of violence, expressions of anger, mindless following, or venting of jealousy. Nor were they reveling in the downfall of someone who had once been powerful.

They were upholding justice and righteousness.

Everyone should cheer with applause. Anyone daring to plead on his behalf would be considered an accomplice, dragged onto the stage, their face painted black, and their hair shaved off—disgusting, morals corrupted, unable to distinguish right from wrong, they deserved to be ridiculed along with the sinner.

Xue Meng couldn't bear to witness the Penitence Platform.

It would drive him mad.

In the late afternoon, a light rain began to fall.

The Penitence Platform was exposed, and Mo Ran knelt in the misty rain, the fine droplets adhering to his face. With his eyes closed, amidst the surging crowd, not even the rain could dampen the excitement.

By now, most cultivators had dispersed, leaving mostly uninformed common folk behind. These inhabitants of the Upper Realm did not cultivate nor were they aware of the preceding turmoil. However, their curiosity was piqued as they held up oil paper umbrellas, observing the bound man.

During the day, their viewing platform had been too distant for them to discern Mo Ran's features clearly.

But during the public trial on the Penitence Platform, these commoners could draw near for a closer look.

A young lady whispered in surprise, "After hearing what he did this morning, I thought he would be a hideous monster with a green face and fangs. I didn't expect him to actually be quite good-looking."

The muscular man beside her gently adjusted her cloak, saying, "You're too naive. There are countless people in this world with charming appearances but wicked hearts. Don't ever let yourself be deceived by their facade."

Parents also brought their children, intentionally coming to witness the scene.

The father, a teacher in the Upper Realm, was refined and gentle. He lifted his child so that he could see Mo Ran kneeling there.

"Do you see? In the future, always behave properly, never resembling such a beastly manner."

The child, around five or six years old and still innocent, asked, "Father, what wrong did he commit? Why is he kneeling here?"

"The wrongs he has committed are innumerable," the teacher said with a sour tone. "According to the Heavenly Sound Pavilion's public judgment, he killed, set fires, practiced forbidden arts, and deceived his identity. This person has no shame or trace of humanity; he is cold-blooded and dark-hearted, worse than a pig or a dog—do you understand that you must never be like him when you grow up?"

"I understand."

Just as the father relaxed, his child asked, "But Father, do you know him?"

The father was taken aback. "Me?... Of course not. Your father is the most upright scholar at the Pure Wind Academy in the Upper cultivation Realm. I've lived an honest life, associating only with knowledgeable gentlemen and righteous people—how could I possibly know such an evil and depraved individual?"

Pausing, he seemed to think it necessary to emphasize further, and thus instructed his child earnestly, "Our family is a scholarly lineage, and we have been well-educated in morals since childhood. It should be utterly shameful and filthy even to speak a single word to someone like him. Do you remember that?"

This time, the child neither confirmed nor denied.

Confused, he asked, "But Father, if you don't know him, how can you tell that he... he... um..." Struggling to mimic his father's words, he struggled to recall, "He's worse than a pig or a dog, and cold-blooded? We're seeing him for the first time today... Doesn't it take a long time to understand someone? Like with Little Flower next door..."

The teacher replied, "You don't understand; this is different. He's already been convicted."

The child's large, clear eyes gazed at Mo Ran for a moment before saying, "But this brother looks so pitiful... He doesn't seem like a bad person. Could the Heavenly Sound Pavilion have made a mistake in their judgment?"

"You're too young to understand," the teacher, always conservative, dismissed his son's doubts. "When you grow up, you'll see that the Heavenly Sound Pavilion has been the fairest and most impartial place on earth for thousands of years. It's a hall left by the gods, so there's hardly ever a mistake."

The child sucked on his finger, gazing at Mo Ran with a mixture of understanding and confusion, no longer coming to Mo Ran's defense.

As night deepened, the crowd thinned and dispersed gradually.

By the third watch, the drizzle turned into a heavy downpour, leaving not a single soul in sight.

Morning arrived after a long night. A vendor pushing a cart trudged slowly past, heading for the early market.

The wind howled and rain lashed down fiercely. The peddler hunched over, struggling to push his dilapidated wooden cart. Mo Ran was in a half-asleep, half-awake state, groggy and disoriented. He heard the wheels of the cart rolling on the cobblestone road and the labored, heavy breathing of the exhausted vendor.

His mind drifted, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he was still wandering during his travels.

He opened his eyes slightly, his gaze unfocused.

Almost instinctively, just as every day and night since losing Chu Wanning, he wanted to lend a hand, to help the weary peddler push the cart under a tree, to do something within his power.

But he found that he couldn't stand up.

It took him a long while to remember that those days of atonement were irretrievably gone.

Now he was branded as a criminal by the Heavenly Sound Pavilion.

Suddenly, a fierce gust of wind blew, so strong that it lifted the rainproof cloth covering the peddler's cart. He struggled to flatten it, but his efforts were in vain.

The cloth flew up, exposing the goods on the cart to the downpour. The poor, weary man, striving to make a living, frantically chased after the cloth in the rain.

Mo Ran watched him.

He felt a deep pang of sorrow, as memories of his mother dancing on the edge of a knife for a single copper coin resurfaced.

There were always so many people in this world who, while others slept soundly, braved the harsh winds and rains just to earn their daily bread.

He wanted to help him.

In the tranquil rainy night, he found an unexpected calmness within himself, allowing him to recall numerous past events. He remembered the smile he had once shared with his mother when he said those words.

"When I make a name for myself, I'll build countless houses, and everyone will have a place to live. No one will ever be hungry or cold again."

Mo Ran couldn't comprehend why none of the Heavenly Sound Pavilion disciples standing nearby offered assistance to the peddler.

Something so simple, yet they stood as rigid as pines and cypresses, embodying the most solemn and majestic demeanor of the Heavenly Sound Pavilion. Their bodies were as immovable as boulders, and their hearts likely not much softer.

The vendor panted as he chased after the oil cloth, which had been carried away by the wind, rolling and twisting until it reached the Penitence Platform, landing at Mo Ran's feet.

A hand as withered as old tree bark finally managed to grasp it.

Mo Ran exhaled in relief, feeling a sense of comfort for the man.

Yet the vendor knew that his wares had been soaked through, and his mood was at its nadir. He didn't know how to vent his frustration. Clutching the oilcloth, he was deeply grieved when he suddenly realized that Mo Ran was looking at him.

He turned to glare at him.

With a sudden grit of his teeth, he spat a thick wad of phlegm viciously at Mo Ran's face. "What are you looking at? Is there anything worth seeing? Even a lowly scoundrel like you dares to mock me?! Damn it! Just wait and see how you'll die!"

Though unsatisfied, he dared not approach too closely. Instead, he picked up a few stones nearby and threw them at Mo Ran.

The junior disciples of the Heavenly Sound Pavilion were accustomed to such occurrences.

In private, they often joked, "As long as one can distinguish between right and wrong, they'll despise those heinous criminals. Beating them up a bit is no big deal."

They understood the public's sentiment.

So they didn't often intervene.

The pebbles that hit Mo Ran's face and body didn't hurt much.

But Mo Ran was trembling slightly.

Seeing him tremble, seeing his pain, the peddler seemed to feel that his own misfortune and misery paled in comparison. Some of his resentment dissipated, and he dragged his frail body over to the handcart, covering it with an oilcloth before disappearing into the distance.

The world was veiled in a dense night mist, and the heavy rain washed away the peddler's spittle, as well as numerous other stains.

The rain grew heavier, cleansing the mortal world.

Morning arrived.

Acolytes from the Heavenly Sound Pavilion began emerging from the city gates, passing by Mo Ran without notice or with disdainful looks.

Suddenly, a pair of black boots came to a halt before Mo Ran.

An umbrella tilted down, shielding the gentle drizzle.

Mo Ran was asleep, oblivious to it all.

Until he heard voices in dispute.

A gentle and composed voice, though firm in its tone, spoke up, "Cast a protective barrier to shield him from the rain."

"No movement of the Penitence Platform without the Pavilion Master's command."

"It's just a barrier."

"I'm powerless to help."

Mo Ran opened his eyes, dazed, and saw a tall figure — no, not a figure, it was Ye Wangxi, with unwavering determination. "The day of execution has yet to arrive. You shouldn't treat him like this."

"How have we treated him?" someone frowned. "Miss Ye, you must take responsibility for your words. The Heavenly Sound Pavilion follows its rules. It is Heaven itself that finds fault with him, sending this rain, not a punishment we impose upon him."

In Ye Wangxi's eyes flashed irritation. "Isn't this punishment? All night long! You let him stand in the rain like that all last night? If not for me seeing it today..."

Below, a group from the Jade Lake Manor passed by, led by Zhen Congming with his junior disciples.

Upon hearing the commotion, Zhen Congming turned his head and sneered. "Oh, look, the leader of Confucian Wind Sect's Dark City is meddling in other people's business again?"

"Shading the scapegoat with an umbrella, hah."

A crowd gathered around, whispers and murmurs filling the air as several female cultivators rolled their eyes at Ye Wangxi and exchanged hushed words.

Unfortunately, their voices were not as low as they thought.

"I heard that the black-robed man who stood up for Ye Wangxi back at the Confucian Wind Sect was none other than Mo Ran."

"What? How come I didn't know... It turns out that devil helped her?"

"Mo Ran even killed the woman who raised him as her own, so how can he be so kind to Ye Wangxi?"

There was a moment of silence before someone gasped, covering their mouth with a handkerchief, their face paling. "Heavens, could it be that they two..."

What was it?

No one dared to articulate their thoughts aloud at that moment, but their faces betrayed a mix of disgust and excitement. It was too comfortable to indulge in irresponsible speculation, like a prolonged and intense climax spreading through the crowd and diffusing amidst the misty rain.

They stared at the two figures on stage.

A man and a woman.

Why would a woman help a downcast and despondent man? Had she slept with him? She must have; she must be head over heels in love with him, captivated by their intimate moments in bed.

How filthy.

Mo Ran lifted his gaze to meet Ye Wangxi's. He wanted to speak, but his voice failed him the first time he tried.

He swallowed again, then rasped, "Miss Ye..."

"You're awake?"

Ye Wangxi lowered her head, her demeanor as gentle and composed as ever.

"...Go ahead... Don't stand there, it's not good for you."

Yet, Ye Wangxi didn't leave. She brought a pot of warm water and bent down, holding the umbrella with one hand while unscrewing the lid with the other. The umbrella tilted, and most of the rainwater drenched her.

"Have something to drink..."

Someone from the Heavenly Sound Pavilion immediately came forward to stop her: "Miss Ye, those under punishment cannot be given food or drink."

"But can spectators throw stones and beat them up?"

Though Ye Wangxi hadn't witnessed last night's events, she saw the scattered pebbles around Mo Ran, as well as the bruises on his forehead and cheeks.

She stared at them with a fierce gaze reminiscent of Nan Gongsi.

The likeness of an old acquaintance was gradually emerging in her.

"Doesn't the Heavenly Sound Pavilion uphold justice? Is this your notion of fairness?"

Realizing they were in the wrong, they fell silent. The leader, feeling awkward, coughed softly and said, "Forget about the water, but no other food is allowed."

Ye Wangxi gently fed him some warm water.

Mo Ran whispered, "Why bother...?"

"You helped Si," Ye Wangxi said without lifting her gaze. "And you helped me."

"Back on Dragon Mountain, if I were the one who died, Nangong would have..."

Ye Wangxi's hand paused for a moment; she was trembling, but she still spoke. "Everyone wants to live. I wouldn't blame you for wanting to survive."

"..."

"Drink," she said. "Xue Meng can't come now; his parents are holding him back. I'll hold this umbrella for you. You risked everything to help Si and me before. Now, even if no one else stands by your side, I will."

Her expression remained detached yet resolute.

"I'm here," she vowed.

True to her word, she stood right beside Mo Ran, holding an umbrella slightly tilted to shield him from the rain, even as the Heavenly Sound Pavilion forbade the opening of the barrier.

With her standing there, the stone-throwing ceased, but the derogatory remarks only grew more vicious.

An androgynous monster. A beast in human disguise.

A woman without honor or sense. A heartless perpetrator.

When one desires to accuse, there's never a lack of excuses. Besides, everyone knew that the man on his knees would never rise again, and the woman beside him had long lost her sect, left with no support.

Who would bother to defend them amidst such harsh slander?

Mo Ran was now astounded by the multitude of valiant souls in this world, emerging one after another, as fervent as sprouts after a rain shower.

So righteous, indignant, and intolerant of evil.

Where had these people been before?

Trials at the Heavenly Sound Pavilion were the rarest of occurrences; perhaps not once in a decade would someone be so "honored."

The crowd came and went like waves, ebbing and flowing. Someone commented, "This Mo Ran did quite a few good deeds before. Now it's hard to tell what his intentions were. He even stayed in our village. The thought of such a ruthless killer lingering among us is terrifying."

"I've heard that his mother is Duan Yihan. Do you know about her?"

"Duan Yihan? The musical immortal whose melodies are hard to come by?" The listener was surprised. "Isn't she supposed to be a kind-hearted person? Rumor has it that she's talented, gentle, and has high integrity with a benevolent heart."

Someone immediately spoke in a sarcastic tone, "Men are so amusing. Isn't Duan Yihan a courtesan? In this day and age, even courtesans can be praised for their integrity. I guess the world has truly changed, and moral standards have vanished."

The man who was contradicted was displeased. "Duan Yihan is a musician, not a prostitute. She's been in the music house for years and has never taken any clients."

"Probably because you're too poor to know any better. For women like her, as long as the money is right, what does chastity even mean?"

At that moment, someone spoke up indignantly, "What's the difference between a musician and a prostitute? They're both shameless people who don't value themselves. It's surprising that in our vast and refined Upper Realm, morals have degraded to such a state."

It was none other than the teacher who had brought his child yesterday.

Today, he didn't carry his child but held a stack of books instead, followed by a group of schoolboys. The teacher lifted his chin slightly, exuding an air of arrogance.

Someone recognized him and politely said, "Mr. Ma finished class early today."

"The knowledge we gain from books is limited," the teacher replied. "I dismissed class early today specifically to bring my students here for a firsthand learning experience and to broaden their horizons."

Having said that, he shot a sideways glance at the gentleman who had spoken on Duan Yihan's behalf, sneering in disdain, "But never would I have imagined hearing such audacious remarks—it truly broadens my horizons. It also fills me with profound concern for the morals prevalent in our realm of cultivation."

"Indeed, Mr. Ma has spoken wisely. Sir is indeed a paragon of virtue."

"Master is a role model for educators, with the most sincere intentions."

The man who had bravely come to Duan Yihan's defense moments earlier was both ashamed and furious. However, with everyone around him laughing, his face flushed a deep crimson, resembling pig liver, and he found himself at a loss for words. With a swoosh of his sleeve, he stormed off in indignation.

These words initially filled Mo Ran with immense anger, but they later left him feeling powerless.

Powerless to intervene, he could only listen as his deceased mother's memory was dragged through the mud by countless voices.

Her final plea, "Remember kindness, not vengeance," echoed in his mind as she was vilified by those same dark mouths, turning her into a prostitute, a lewd woman, the spawn of degradation.

He could not silence the incessant gossip.

After much restraint, Ye Wangxi could bear it no longer. She stepped forward, intent on confronting the crowd.

But Mo Ran's deep voice stopped her. "Don't say anything more."

"..."

"It's pointless."

Ye Wangxi returned to his side, and by then, the rain had gradually subsided, but she still held her umbrella, as if this fragile paper parasol could shield them from anything.

Mo Ran lifted his gaze to look at her. After a while, he said in a hoarse voice, "Don't stand here with me, Miss Ye. If you trust me... go back to the Heavenly Sound Pavilion, find Xue Meng, find the people from Death Peak... tell them..."

He paused for a moment.

Even the strength to speak had deserted him now.

"Tell them to listen to me, to try... to find Hua Binan... to find my Master..."

At the mention of Chu Wanning, his heart clenched in pain once more.

Where was Chu Wanning?

From Shi Mo's tone, it didn't seem like he would harm him, but where would Shi Mo take him? What would he be forced to do?

He couldn't dwell on it too much.

"The First Forbidden Spell has truly been unleashed; we must be prepared." Mo Ran's eyelashes fluttered. "I won't be able to fend off the second assault... but there will definitely be a second one... please believe me... I have no ulterior motives, I only wish for all of this to come to an end."

It couldn't continue like this.

He didn't want to repeat the past, to witness Chu Wanning summon Huai Sha once more.

He didn't want to see him alone, sacrificing himself to mend the heavens.