The Husky and His White Cat Shizun

Chapter 275: "Heavenly Sound Pavilion" - Shattered Core of Integrity

He witnessed a young Mo Ran grinning at his mother, and saw Duan Yihan patting the boy's head, saying, "Remember to repay kindness, not hold grudges."

There was a scene where Mo Ran held a box of pastries from Xue Meng, nibbling on them carefully, unwilling to waste even a crumb.

He saw Mo Ran standing in front of an inn in Impermanence Town, dressed in the attire of a newly initiated disciple, respectfully offering the silver coins in his pocket to the owner, his face slightly flushed with bashfulness and anticipation as he said, "I'd like a fine pear blossom wine, if possible, could I have it served in a more attractive flask? I want to give it to my master to try."

All these memories appeared one after another.

Those were the warmest and purest moments that had once resided in Mo Ran's heart, flashing by like a colorful lantern show.

In each frame, Mo Ran was smiling, from his impoverished childhood to his youthful years before the Eight Sorrows Flower took hold. But there weren't many such recollections; Mo Ran had too few unadulterated times in his life, with only a few days filled with uninhibited laughter.

Chu Wanning watched as these scenes flashed by in a blur.

Then, everything calmed down.

Due to their souls being intertwined for so long, he could now clearly perceive how much Mo Ran had adored, respected, relied on, and loved him before the planting of the Long Hate Flower, despite his stern demeanor and strict teaching methods.

Yet he liked it, feeling a sense of familiarity and warmth.

He realized that this cold-hearted Master was actually an incredibly kind person at his core.

Mo Ran had actually liked him... he had fervently and innocently admired him so long ago.

The memories continued to unfold before his eyes, and Chu Wanning followed Mo Ran's recollections, immersing himself in a moonlit, clear night. That evening, the lamp in the disciple quarters on the Summit of Life and Death flickered alone. Mo Ran sat at the table, attentively sewing a white handkerchief over an open book.

After just a few stitches, he clumsily pricked his finger, and blood dripped onto the cloth.

Mo Ran's eyes widened, and he appeared dejected as he sighed, "This is so difficult."

He balled up the handkerchief and tossed it aside.

He fetched another new one and began sewing again.

The candle burned all through the night, and countless handkerchiefs were discarded. Eventually, his movements became more nimble, and gradually, pale red petals began to take shape — one petal, two petals... five petals.

Each petal was intricately embroidered, each petal sincerely crafted.

The young man sewed a pristine handkerchief with clumsy yet earnest stitches, creating a blossoming winter cherry flower that never fades throughout the year.

His eyes shone with anticipation as he gazed at his work.

In truth, it was rather unsightly, with uneven seams revealing his inexperience. Nevertheless, Mo Ran was overjoyed. He examined it excitedly from every angle, even tossing it up into the air. The delicate handkerchief floated gently down, landing on his face.

It concealed his features.

Underneath the cloth, he chuckled softly and blew a breath of air, causing one corner of the handkerchief to rise slightly, revealing his gentle gaze. His eyes sparkled with delight.

"I'm sure Master will love this gift."

His heart was filled with warmth, a warmth that the parasitic flower planted later could not tolerate and would eventually consume.

"Every time he uses this handkerchief, he'll think of me."

Mo Ran tucked the handkerchief safely in his bosom, imagining countless times how Chu Wanning would praise him and beam with happiness. He felt an irrepressible joy, like grass growing and swallows soaring. That very night, he rushed to Chu Wanning's quarters, seeking out the man who stood by the pond watching the fish.

"Master!"

He rushed over with an eager glow on his face.

Chu Wanning turned around, somewhat surprised. "Why are you here?"

"I- Achoo!"

It was cold outside, and the young man had come out too hastily without wearing a cloak. Before he could finish his sentence, he sneezed.

Chu Wanning said, "...What's so urgent that you couldn't even remember to put on a coat?"

Mo Ran rubbed his nose and grinned. "I can't wait any longer. If I don't give this to Master now, I won't be able to sleep."

"What is it?"

"It's a belated gift for when I became your disciple," he said, carefully taking out the neatly folded handkerchief from his bosom. But just as he was about to present it, he suddenly felt shy, his face turning red. "Actually... actually, it's not worth much. And no, it's not very good."

After some thought, he simply balled up the handkerchief and hid it behind his back, tapping nervously with the tip of his foot on the ground.

Chu Wanning: "..."

"What did you purchase?"

The young man's ears turned bright red, and he replied bashfully, "I didn't buy it. I don't have any money..."

Chu Wanning paused. "You did this yourself?"

Mo Ran lowered his head, his two clusters of eyelashes like misty clouds, whispering softly, "Mm."

Before Chu Wanning could respond, he hastily added, "Actually, it's incredibly, incredibly ugly!" He repeated himself anxiously, still feeling unsatisfied. Mustering up his courage to meet Chu Wanning's gaze once more, he emphasized with conviction, "Extremely ugly."

Chu Wanning still remembered his feelings at that time – they were a mixture of surprise and delight.

He had never received a gift made by someone else with their own hands before.

Yet, he couldn't show his true emotions nor smile, so he kept his face stern, afraid that his young disciple might detect the subtle sweetness blossoming within him.

He coughed softly and carefully said, "Well, since you've already made it, no matter how ugly it is, you should let me see it, right?"

In the end, Mo Ran took out the handkerchief, intending to present it with both hands. But then he realized it had become wrinkled from his fumbling, so he hastily tried to smooth it out.

In the midst of his blush, a slender and well-proportioned hand reached out, taking the troublesome handkerchief that had been haunting him.

With that, all chaos and confusion ceased.

Mo Ran stood there, dumbfounded, and couldn't help but exclaim, "Shifu, it's really... ugly."

Back then, Chu Wanning had yet to develop feelings for Mo Ran. All he could recall was those dark, gleaming eyes. Moist like dew on petals, they were incredibly captivating.

Affection can strike like a thunderbolt or wear away like a drop of water on stone.

Chu Wanning fell into the latter category. His heart was pierced by the young man's gentle gestures, one by one, so subtly that he didn't realize their intensity at first, but their impact grew stronger over time.

By the time he became acutely aware, this tenderness had turned into a quagmire. He was trapped, unable to extricate himself.

"A handkerchief?"

"Mm... Mmm-hmm."

It was a white square cloth made of celestial silk, with embroidered peony flowers along the edges. The stitching was meticulous and firm, giving it an endearing awkwardness.

Chu Wanning's heart, like an empty valley, was suddenly stirred. Within the valley, a stream flowed, and petals drifted upon its surface. Gazing at that handkerchief for a long while, he found himself at a loss for words.

It was the first time he had received such a gift.

The giver, seeing his silence, assumed he didn't like it and stammered in explanation, "I, I embroidered it according to a picture in a book. Actually... um, actually, this style of handkerchief is sold in Impermanence Town, and it's not expensive. The ones they sell are... much prettier than mine."

He grew anxious in the end, even attempting to reclaim the handkerchief. But Chu Wanning was quicker, quietly tucking it into his robe without any outward display of emotion.

"Ridiculous. How can one ask for a gift back after presenting it as a gesture of respect?"

Indeed, the wrinkled cloth, still bearing Mo Ran's warmth, was unappealing. In Impermanence Town, ten copper coins could buy eight of the same design.

And yet, it felt precious, something he didn't want to return.

Thus, it became the first gift Mo Ran ever gave Chu Wanning in his lifetime. After being inflicted with the curse, both this memory and the handkerchief were forgotten by Mo Weiyu.

Chu Wanning, bashful and not articulate, never mentioned it afterward. Yet, as he witnessed Mo Ran increasingly dote on Shi Mo, attending to him tirelessly and presenting countless gifts, he fell even more silent, unwilling to let Mo Ran easily catch sight of the handkerchief again.

It was a casual gift from Mo Ran, but Chu Wanning cherished it as if it were invaluable.

He remembered...

The fusion of his Earth Soul brought back the past. Each and every event, Chu Wanning recalled them all, slowly but surely.

He rose, more enraged, desperate, sorrowful, and pained than ever before.

His hands trembled as he finally grasped the entire truth, the entire sequence of events.

In fact, it wasn't just about his innocence in his childhood being wrongly accused.

Nor was it solely due to Shi Mo's enchantment.

It was far more than that.

But these most crucial memories had been suppressed by Shi Mo's incantations for twenty years, across two lifetimes – no one had known the true beginning of this tale.

Until today.

The truth, the truth...

This was the ultimate truth!

With no one left to hinder him on Dragon Mountain, Chu Wanning could not afford to waste time. He dashed up the mountain like a madman. Arriving at the nearest village, he inquired about Mo Ran's whereabouts.

"The Grandmaster Mo you mentioned?" The villager, unaware of Chu Wanning's identity, gruffly replied, "What kind of pretentious grandmaster is he? He's nothing but a beast with a double face."

A beast with a double face...

A sinner...

A tyrant.

Dizziness overwhelmed him as two lifetimes flashed before his eyes. The former Heaven-Stepping Lord from his past life bared his teeth in a grotesque grin, while Mo Weiyu from this life lowered his eyes, offering a gentle smile.

No, it wasn't like that.

The truth wasn't like this.

With a pale face, Chu Wanning asked, "Where is he?"

"Heavenly Sound Pavilion," the villager said. "Who in the Upper and Lower Cultivation Realms doesn't know of them? This person has committed a heinous crime and is to have their spirit core excavated alive today, receiving the punishment they deserve!"

It was like a mountain cracking, causing his skull to resonate with the sound.

"When will the execution take place?!" Chu Wanning asked too eagerly. His phoenix eyes shimmered with intense emotion, startling the villager.

"I-I'm not quite sure... it's probably... noon?"

Noon... noon... He glanced at the sundial beside the threshing ground, and his face paled abruptly!

The Ascending Dragon Talisman burst through the air, and amidst the raging winds and waves it stirred up, Chu Wanning commanded the paper dragon to carry him as they raced against time to Qi Province. The paper dragon initially tried to engage its master in playful banter but was startled to see tears in Chu Wanning's eyes.

The little paper dragon was stunned. "What's wrong with you?"

"Help me."

It had never seen Chu Wanning look this way before, and it didn't know how to react. "I've always been helping you, haven't I? Oh no, please don't cry."

Chu Wanning clenched his back teeth, his ferocity now an empty show.

The truth was a parasitic worm, gnawing at his backbone.

"I'm not crying. Take me to the Heavenly Sound Pavilion, it's almost too late!"

"Why do you want to go there?"

"To save someone." His shivers couldn't be contained, despite his determination not to weep, despite his lifelong resistance to tears. Chu Wanning fiercely wiped at his reddened eyes.

"To save someone who has been unjustly condemned."

"..."

"If there is anyone in this world who deserves to have their spirit core ripped out and be cursed by thousands, it should not be him," Chu Wanning's voice was raspy. "I will avenge his injustice."

The paper dragon did not ask any further questions. It carried him, transforming into a colossal dragon with towering horns, piercing the sky with a roaring cry as it soared through the air. The wind stirred the hills, and his long beard swayed, while the cold mist shattered amidst the humid sea of clouds.

Chu Wanning sat beside its dragon horn.

The strong gusts of wind brushed against his face. The frigid temperatures at the ninth heaven were astonishing, almost freezing the blood in his fingertips. He gazed ahead, past the layers of mist and the towering mountains, the ever-flowing rivers, all the wonders of the mortal world passing beneath him like a fleeting memory from yesterday.

In truth, ever since he had awoken, he had been consumed by madness, numbness, and fragmentation.

Only now, as he slowed down, was he utterly overwhelmed by the sorrow of past events. He curled up on the dragon's back, gradually drawing his face into his palms.

The wind was fierce, whistling past his ears.

They wanted to interrogate Mo Ran, to rip out his heart and shatter his soul nucleus—

Unforgivable crimes, deserving death a thousand times over.

No, that wasn't right.

The howling wind was loud enough to mask all human joy, anger, and sorrow.

Amidst the vast sky and billowing clouds, Chu Wanning finally broke down in tears, this second life... whether it was Heaven-Stepping Lord or Grandmaster Mo...

It should never have come to this.

Mo Ran had said something true.

That bow at the foot of the Tower of Heaven was wrong from the very beginning.

As the sun climbed higher, the water in the copper hourglass outside the Heavenly Sound Pavilion reached a certain mark. A female official struck a chime and announced with a resounding voice, "Noon has arrived!"

Flocks of birds startled into flight.

"Carry out the punishment!"

Ascending the execution platform, the immortal ropes bound the culprit, and outer robes were stripped away, revealing the open vestments.

Mu Yanli's expression was icy as she held her divine weapon, the Divine Martial Dagger, and approached steadily, stopping before Mo Ran.

"I administer this punishment to you today, hoping that you will repent."

Her lips moved, reciting the ancient verses of the Heavenly Sound Pavilion.

"Heavenly Sound resounds vast and wide, no personal biases allowed.

Children of Heavenly Sound, no attachments should be formed."

Celestial tones linger, untouchable by mortals.

Heavenly melodies show compassion, honoring all life."

She lowered her gaze to bid Mo Ran farewell with a bow.

Then, she drew her blade, sparks flew, divine artifacts hummed, and golden feathers scattered. The dagger's radiance illuminated her emotionless eyes.

Below, some covered their eyes, others craned their necks, some sighed with closed eyes, while others applauded in approval.

The myriad expressions of humanity, condensed in this moment.

"Very well, the divine punishment for the sacrilege of soul nucleus extraction."

With a swift slash, blood blossomed.

Silence fell upon them.

Suddenly, someone on the platform cried out in a voice that shook the heavens: "Brother!!!”

Scarlet, vivid red blood seethed and boiled, spilling from the wound where the divine weapon had pierced his chest. Mo Ran's eyes remained open, initially feeling nothing, before he numbly lowered his head to gaze upon his mangled heart.

His lips quivered as excruciating pain blossomed like fireworks, illuminating a tumultuous dance of light and shadow before his eyes.

"Cough! Cough!"

Blood gushed from his mouth, dripping with the metallic tang of iron.

The vast expanse of heaven and earth transformed into a mournful crimson sea.

But it was all wrong, so very wrong.

Chu Wanning soared on his dragon, drawing ever closer to Qi territory.

He had once believed that Mo Ran's indifference toward him, his playful demeanor, stemmed from resentment and bitterness.

He had assumed that under the repeated punishments and scoldings, Mo Ran had gradually erased their initial warmth and camaraderie from memory.

In truth, those memories were trapped within Mo Ran's very soul.

He saw it.

Chu Wanning glimpsed into Mo Ran's innermost depths, where beneath the suppression of the Eight Sorrows Long Hate Flower lay profound affection and loyalty from the past.

That year, Mo Ran was still so innocent and pure, his heart warm and healthy, pulsating in his chest. That year, he watched his newly-acknowledged master stand by the lacquered wooden window, turning his face slightly toward him. His eyes were light as he said, "Mo Ran, come here."

Approaching, he found ink, brush, paper, and an inkstone laid out before him.

"I hear that you still don't know how to write your courtesy name. Pick up the brush, I'll teach you."

His teaching voice was gentle, like the apricot blossom outside the window, blossoming with ethereal elegance.

"Your Lord gave you the courtesy name 'Drizzle,' which is the antithesis of your given name. Watch carefully as I write it once."

Thus, with horizontal lines, vertical strokes, and hooks, the master's brushwork was powerful, while the little disciple stood beside, innocently mimicking his every move.

"There's one extra dot."

"This time, you missed one dot."

It took him five attempts to clumsily write the two characters, though they looked as if a ghost had scribbled them, utterly grotesque. Chu Wanning had never seen such a clumsy disciple, and couldn't help feeling a bit frustrated. "Is it that difficult?"

Not really.

But back then, Mo Ran didn't dare to admit that it was because the sight of his master looking down to write was too captivating. His desire was insatiable, so he deliberately added an extra stroke or omitted one, just to have Wanning teach him again.

"I find it so challenging," Mo Ran said.

Chu Wanning glared at him. "Watch seriously, don't just laugh around."

Mo Ran smiled, genuinely troubled. "Then, Master, please write it again and teach me once more."

He truly loved that moment when Chu Wanning looked down, his phoenix eyes slanted.

As long as Chu Wanning held his hand and taught him, he could hear the sound of the peach blossoms blooming outside the window.

The execution platform's barrier rose high, and the heavenly judgment sounded, unimpeded by any.

The Divine Martial Dagger was razor-sharp, capable of discerning its master's intent. Mu Yanli's expression was indifferent, as if she couldn't hear Mo Ran's ragged breathing, see the deathly pale face of the man, or notice the veins bulging at Mo Ran's temples or the blood trickling from the corners of his mouth.

She was solely executing the judgment of the Divine Martial Scale.

She was to extract the spirit core alive.

The dagger pierced the heart, swiftly weaving through flesh and blood, searching for fragments of the spirit core before exerting force to lift them out—inevitably severing flesh in the process.

She paid no heed to the bleeding, casting aside the bloodied remains along with the glowing fragments into a silver tray held by a servant standing by.

A healing cultivator promptly stepped forward, stemming the torrent of blood and soothing the spasming heart, ensuring he wouldn't die on the spot or during the execution.

The Heavenly Sound Pavilion, adhering to the scale's verdict of extracting the spirit core alive, would ensure his survival, at least until he left the stage unscathed.

To prevent confusion between pain-induced unconsciousness and impending death, they kept Mo Ran awake. He watched, helpless, as his heart was repeatedly sliced open, searched, temporarily sealed, and then healed.

Again and again.

Xue Meng had already broken down, wailing with his face buried in his palms, tears falling like rain.

"Brother..."

Pain seared through his consciousness, his veins bulging from the torment.

Yet, he felt a sense of liberation.

With each slash from Mu Yanli's blade, piercing his heart and extracting fragments, the sins of his past life and the blood on his hands seemed to fade a little.

Would forgiveness come once the pain was over?

Would returning to the past erase all remnants?

But what was the past?

If he were to go back to the day he became an apprentice beneath the Tower of Heaven, he would still be an impostor at the Summit of Life and Death, and his mother would still have starved to death—happiness would remain an illusion.

If he returned to his childhood in the woodshed, those years when only Duan Yihan was by his side, he feared that fate might intervene, preventing him from ever meeting Chu Wanning, leaving this happiness tinged with regret.

As he revisited his past, he now found it impossible to locate a single moment in either lifetime where he could restart without guilt or worry, a single day of genuine contentment and comfort.

In his two lifetimes spanning over forty years, not a single night had been peaceful.

Mu Yanli said, the dagger still buried deep in flesh and blood, carrying out justice in place of heaven.

He knew his soul was tainted, filthy, and guilty beyond redemption. The cycle of heaven's judgment would inevitably come.

But at this very moment, he felt a sudden pang of sorrow.

He yearned for his mother, his master, his younger brother, his uncle and aunt; he longed for a home.

Yet, perhaps he had been too greedy, desiring so much.

And so, in the end, he had nothing.

All the happiness he knew, all the warmth he had experienced, turned out to be illusions, fleeting like water in a basket or sand in a palm.

He had exhausted every effort to make amends, yet gained nothing in return.

By the river of life, he clutched his small, damp basket. Kneeling down, he found it empty. He stared blankly at the surging tides, the passing of time like flowing water.

In reality, he had only this little battered basket from the very beginning, which he held in his hands.

A web of dreams, destined to shatter.