That was the first time in Shen Gurong's memory that he had witnessed a scene completely contrary to his understanding of life.
Behind him was a raging inferno, cutting off all his escape routes.
Before him, a battle between cultivators and ghost cultivators unfolded, a scene beyond his comprehension.
The master, dressed in green, held a bamboo flute, his toes barely touching the river's surface, his face as still as water, each move a deadly strike; while the water ghost seemed to control the clouds and rain with a flick of its wrist, the river water carrying lanterns crashing down like a torrential downpour.
And when the lanterns hit the ground, the flames didn't flicker at all, still burning fiercely.
Shen Gurong clung tightly to Shen Xiwu, whose eyes were still closed. Hearing the unfamiliar voice beside her, Shen Xiwu said fearfully, "Brother, can I open my eyes now?"
Shen Gurong's face was deathly pale, his lips trembling. He stared blankly for a long time before finally nodding.
"Okay." Shen Xiwu finally opened her eyes and threw herself into his arms, choking back tears. "Brother, I'm scared. When can we go home?"
Shen Gurong looked at her blankly, the words his master had just spoken echoing in his ears.
"They're all dead."
All dead...
Dead?
A violent buzzing sound filled Shen Gurong's ears.
In his sixteen years of life, the most violent thunder he had ever witnessed couldn't compare to even a fraction of the sound he was hearing now.
It felt as if a piece of his heart had been ripped out. A cold wind swept past his back, through his body, and back through his heart, chilling him to the bone.
He desperately tried to convince himself this was a dream, but dreams never felt so real. Xiwu's hands were still tightly clasped around him, as if she were his only support.
And he... truly was only his sister's last support.
Shen Gurong suddenly became eerily calm. His trembling body suddenly stopped shaking. He had been desperately trying to convince himself not to believe what was happening, but now he was trying to accept it quickly.
Accept it quickly, break down slowly.
He held Shen Xiwu's hand as if grasping the last shred of sanity.
He couldn't go mad now, he couldn't run away, because he still had to protect Shen Xiwu.
If he died too, Xiwu would have no one to protect her.
Shen Gurong forcibly suppressed his fear and grief. What he himself thought impossible, he miraculously accomplished in that instant.
Shen Gurong held Shen Xiwu expressionlessly. The water splashed by the water ghost soaked him completely. He roughly smoothed the black hair clinging to his cheeks and hid Xiwu under a nearby bridge arch.
The storyteller who often performed under the overpass was now lying unrecognizable on the riverbank, half his body submerged in the water, black blood staining the river crimson.
Shen Gurong forcefully suppressed his nausea and, carrying Xiwu, hid in an extremely dark place.
The master was still fighting the water ghost, and the entire Huitang City gradually fell silent, save for the sound of the blazing fire, interspersed with… the low growls of a wild beast.
Shen Gurong abruptly covered Shen Xiwu's ears.
Shen Xiwu was obedient; she seemed to understand something, even holding her breath, completely trusting her brother.
Shen Gurong breathed softly, and slowly heard heavy footsteps.
The sound soon came from above. Shen Gurong looked up slightly and noticed that the bridge above him was trembling slightly.
He dared not go out, because he couldn't be sure whether what was outside was human or ghost.
The city was already in such a terrible state; he dared not harbor any naive thoughts about this world anymore.
Sure enough, the thing that had crossed the bridge quickly moved on. It seemed to have smelled human presence, and its footsteps slowly moved towards the bridge arch.
When Shen Gurong saw the plague demon's appearance, his breath almost stopped.
The plague demon's face was covered in red marks, resembling large birthmarks, but its appearance was so hideous—its fangs were gaping, and its ghostly eyes were chilling. Even though Shen Gurong had completely hidden himself in the darkness, it still spotted him instantly.
Shen Gurong's previously smug idea of concealing himself suddenly seemed ridiculous.
He leaped from under the bridge, grabbed Xiwu, and ran forward.
The plague demon followed without blinking. Its legs seemed to be shackled, and each step produced a heavy clanging sound of chains, which was particularly eerie as it followed behind.
However, thanks to the shackles, the plague demon moved very slowly.
Shen Gurong seized the opportunity and ran quickly along the riverbank to the moat.
He remembered a narrow path leading out of the city. He and his cronies had once secretly run away along this path to escape punishment for copying books.
Shen Gurong thought he had completely controlled his emotions and remained calm, but as he ran, tears streamed down his face.
He wept silently, leading Xiwu quickly towards the narrow stone path.
Although called a path, it was really just a few stones placed every few steps across the water; it wasn't even a proper road.
The moat was swift, the water rushing past their feet, seemingly capable of washing away the stones beneath their feet.
Shen Gurong stepped onto it, carrying Xiwu, but only halfway there, the stones beneath their feet seemed unable to support their weight, and they suddenly slipped. Shen Gurong's pupils contracted, and in a split second, he used all his strength to throw Xiwu onto the next stone, his entire body crashing into the rushing water.
Shen Xiwu screamed, "Brother!"
Shen Gurong was completely submerged in the river. The water, still cold before spring, was bone-chilling. He only knew a little swimming and struggled to avoid drowning, but the current was too swift. Slamming against the rocks in the river caused him excruciating pain, and he swallowed an unknown amount of water in his haste.
After struggling for an unknown amount of time, a hand suddenly reached out and pulled him out of the icy water.
Shen Gurong was now on the verge of death, having nearly drowned.
His breath was barely audible. The first thing he did upon regaining consciousness was to tightly grasp the person's arm, struggling to speak, "Xiwu..."
The person who saved him was his master.
His master held his hand and did something, and Shen Gurong's aching body felt as if it had been gently caressed; the weakness and exhaustion vanished instantly.
He blinked his damp eyelashes and stammered, "Sir?"
The master helped him up and said softly, "I cannot interfere in the affairs of karma within the Three Realms. I'm sorry."
Shen Gurong looked at him blankly, wanting to ask, "Then why did you save me? Doesn't saving someone already create karma?"
But he couldn't think about it anymore. He quickly thanked the master and hurriedly walked towards the path along the moat.
Fortunately, Xiwu was still standing on the stone, her back to him, her shoulders trembling slightly, looking terrified.
Shen Gurong's heart softened. His legs felt weak as he walked over step by step, softly comforting her, "Xiwu, don't be afraid, brother will be by your side soon."
Brother will be by your side soon.
These were the last words Shen Xiwu heard in her life.
Just as Shen Gurong was about to step onto Xiwu's path, the man slowly approached, stepping on the water, and stood on the stone in front of Shen Gurong, stopping him in his tracks.
Shen Gurong assumed he was there to help him retrieve Xiwu, and forced a smile, saying, "Sir, just give me Xiwu." His sister was gentle, timid, and frail; she must have been extremely worried about him in such a short time.
However, if he comforted her and gave her a round bead, she wouldn't be afraid anymore.
His sister was always sensible and easy to coax.
As Shen Gurong was thinking this, he heard the man say again in that calm, unchanging tone, "She's no longer your sister."
Shen Gurong's lips stiffened.
The girl turned slightly, and Shen Xiwu, separated from him by only a stone, trembled, slowly turning her head, revealing a pair of sinister, ghostly eyes.
Shen Gurong froze, stammering, "Xiwu?"
The master said, "She's been infected with the plague. If she doesn't survive, she'll die."
Shen Gurong stared blankly, like a puppet, at his sister's grotesque face, instinctively asking, "And if she survives?"
"If she survives, she'll be the next plague demon. The other thirteen plague demons will come and devour her."
Shen Gurong looked at the master, expressionless, and said, "I don't understand."
The Master: "Gurong..."
"I don't understand what you're saying." Shen Gurong pointed at Shen Xiwu, his hand strangely steady as a rock. "Xiwu, isn't she over there?"
The master looked at him with pity.
Shen Gurong tilted his head, dazed, and said, "She's just one step away from me."
Just one more step, and he could take his sister home.
As he spoke, seemingly unable to see the master on the rock, he took a step towards him.
The moment his foot touched the edge of the rock, he was pulled into the master's arms.
This embrace seemed to sever all the non-existent puppet strings binding Shen Gurong. He completely collapsed, frantically trying to lunge at Shen Xiwu.
"Xiwu!"
"Let me go! She's my sister! I'll be able to see her soon!"
"Xiwu—"
He screamed, his hair ribbon long since washed away, his dark hair now disheveled, making him look like a madman.
Compared to him, who was trapped by the Master, Xiwu was more like a vengeful ghost.
The master desperately held him back, preventing him from going mad, but the last thread of Shen Gurong's rationality snapped with Shen Xiwu. The fear and sorrow he had previously suppressed surged forth like a tidal wave.
His heart ached, his head ached, and his entire body felt as if it were being pricked by countless needles.
Shen Gurong, who had lived a life of luxury for so many years, had never experienced such pain.
Finally, the master raised his hand towards Shen Xiwu. Shen Xiwu, who had been struggling fiercely, seemed to be instantly silenced, her body limp and collapsing softly onto the small stone.
This was the best release.
Shen Gurong's voice abruptly stopped as Shen Xiwu fell.
His eyes widened blankly, his outstretched hand suddenly falling limply.
Shen Gurong's body went limp, as if all his strength had been drained, and he collapsed softly into the master's arms.
The master picked him up and walked away step by step across the stones.
Shen Gurong stood there for a long time, then suddenly mustered all his strength and lunged forward, hugging the master's neck and biting down hard on his shoulder.
Blood flowed instantly, staining the master's blue robe crimson.
The master, unfazed, continued walking, carrying him, as if the pain was nothing.
He carried Shen Gurong across the corpses strewn across the ground and the city ablaze with flames.
The thirteen plague demons, unable to detect any living souls in Huitang City, were now engaged in a bloody massacre.
Shen Gurong, tears streaming down his face, numbly bit his teacher's shoulder, the force so strong that blood trickled from the corner of his lips.
His master carried him to his private quarters, a house nestled in a picturesque setting, shrouded in mist. Three characters were faintly visible on the plaque above the courtyard:
Fanjiang Residence.
His master placed Shen Gurong in a soft chair, gently stroking his disheveled hair, and said, "Gurong, I can only save you."
Shen Gurong, covered in blood, stared blankly at his teacher, seemingly oblivious to his words.
He stared, then suddenly smiled.
"Save only me?" Shen Gurong's eyes widened, his gaze vacant, as if possessed, yet his voice was softer than ever before—like when he would whine to his master when he didn't want to copy books.
"But I didn't want to live."
QAQ
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