When I received the news that Senior Brother’s men would launch a large-scale night attack tonight, I feared for Master’s safety and hurried back to Morning Mist Mountain. What I saw was a scene of utter devastation. Night Lady was pinned dead to the wall, while Senior Brother writhed on the ground, begging for mercy. Master no longer had his usual calm demeanor; his eyes were blood-red, and his white robes billowed as he held his sword like a vengeful demon.
"Traitor to the master, kill!"
"Unrighteous and immoral, kill!"
"Betrayer of the sect, kill!"
"Destroyer of fellow disciples, kill!"
…
With each word, he drove his sword down mercilessly. After more than ten strikes, Senior Brother was left riddled with bloody holes, convulsing on the ground. In the end, Master reached out and twisted his head off with his bare hands.
I was utterly shocked, unable to think of anything except that Master had gone mad.
Silver needles were embedded in several of his key pressure points, which could unleash a person’s full potential, greatly enhancing their strength and speed—but if not removed soon, he would die.
I called out to him, rushing forward, but seeing the silver needles and the horrifying red stains on his once-white robes, I hesitated. He had always been compassionate, never staining his hands with blood. What kind of anger and pain could drive him to cleanse the sect in such a brutal way?
Without even glancing at me, he walked over to where Night Lady was, gently pulling out the sword and carefully cradling her in his arms. He whispered, "Changpu…"
My head spun, and in that moment, everything became clear.
I watched as Master, staggering, carried Changpu out. I could only cover my mouth, following behind them, nearly choking on my tears.
Master walked step by step toward the Blooming Flower Pavilion, his eyes hollow, murmuring our junior sister’s name over and over.
This was the longest path I had ever walked in my life. Finally, I heard the roar of the waterfall. The Blooming Flower Pavilion was not far off. But Master had reached his limit, collapsing under a pear tree near the pavilion, still holding our junior sister. Slowly, he closed his eyes.
I knelt beneath the tree, weeping bitterly. I had searched for five years, only to find this truth, this tragic outcome.
A month later, I assumed the position of sect leader of Morning Mist Mountain. Standing in the Blooming Flower Pavilion, I scattered Master and Junior Sister’s ashes into the cold pool beneath the waterfall. In my palm were two smooth, round Life Stones, now nothing more than ordinary stones. I used my inner strength to embed them deeply into the eyes of the Xuanbird carving on the pavilion.
From now on, you can gaze upon Morning Mist Mountain every day and never be separated again.
I turned, my robes brushed with dew and a few pear blossoms, and left with a sweep of my sleeve.
0 Comments