It had been less than a few days since Qing Zi left the sect, but rumors of unrest had already begun to spread. I overheard whispers of rebellion brewing in the capital, with the imperial court sending troops to suppress the uprising.
I glanced at the second senior brother, who was leaning against the wall with a scroll in his hand. Without looking up, he said, “Stay on the mountain.”
The mountain had become eerily quiet since Qing Zi’s departure. Even the wind through the trees felt heavier, as if mourning his absence. I secretly wondered if the second senior brother felt the same, though his stoic expression gave nothing away.
“Senior brother?” I ventured cautiously, but he waved me off, as though unwilling to speak further.
The second senior brother eventually turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone. His silhouette seemed to blur with the setting sun, a distant figure weighed down by emotions he refused to show.
A few days later, rumors of rebellion reached the mountain, along with news of Qing Zi’s involvement. However, none of us dared to leave the sect, as the second senior brother continued to maintain his silent vigil. He avoided mentioning Qing Zi entirely, though his occasional glances at the horizon betrayed his thoughts.
I found myself wondering: Did he regret letting Qing Zi go? Or did he believe it was truly the best choice? Either way, the atmosphere in the sect grew heavier with each passing day.
Could it be… someone is trying to kill me? Was it someone from outside the sect, or perhaps someone hiding among us, alongside Qing Zi and the others?
I couldn’t figure it out, and while I was still thinking, yet another problem arose—
Another New Moon Later
I remember being carried back by Qing He a month ago during the new moon, and since then, I’ve gone through so much. Over the past month, my condition has remained precarious. The senior brother left the mountain, the second senior brother descended, and Qing He often sat quietly in the corner of the room. I sat where I always did, staring at the ice mirror that reflected my true form. I kept thinking to myself, if I just "ate" myself, would that finally resolve this whole ordeal?
But then I came to my senses. I realized that whether or not I could eat my own essence wasn’t the issue. The real problem was that I had no strength left to break that ice wall.
I felt lost. That fleeting thought of death emerged in my mind. What was the point of life? What mattered anymore? Even if fate revealed its hand again, even if something fearful awaited me, there was no fear left in me. I only felt bitter—wondering if the one who planned all of this was still waiting in the shadows, waiting for me to destroy myself, to end as nothing more than a soulless shell… This realization felt like a cruel joke.
Killing me outright would have been a mercy, far simpler than this. And yet, the suffering dragged on.
But to my surprise, in the few hours following that train of thought, I stopped wanting to break the ice. It was as though all my hatred for the world slipped away. I leaned weakly against the stone wall, feeling completely detached from everything. Four walls surrounded me in silence, and I lost the will to do anything.
“Endure it… Just endure it…” I whispered faintly, words echoing in the cold cave.
“Endure it.” This phrase became like a mantra to me, a small consolation that kept me alive. It was as if the act of repeating those words allowed me to distance myself from reality, allowing the heavens to shift unnoticed while I lingered in hazy memories. Somewhere deep within, I tried to convince myself that things might not be so bad after all.
My memory blurred. Faces, events—they felt so far away, as though they belonged to another life. If someone asked me what had happened that day, I wouldn’t have remembered at all.
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