"Did you know that the founder of Medicine Master Valley was also a murderer?"
So he stayed behind incognito and became the last disciple of Master Liao. He transferred his passion for martial arts to medicine, locking himself in the library of Spring Garden every day, immersing himself in the books covering the walls: "Biao You", "Yu Long", "Zhou Hou Fang", "Wai Tai Mi Yao", "Jin Lan Xun Jing", "Qian Jin Yi Fang", "Qian Jin Fang", "Cun Zhen Tu", "Ling Jiu", "Su Wen Nan Jing"... He laid down his butcher's knife and became a Buddha on the spot.
After that snowy night in the wilderness, he was completely transformed.
He gazed at Huo Zhanbai, who kept pouring himself a drink, and suddenly sighed softly—"Do you hate me? If it weren't for me, she wouldn't have risked leaving the valley; if I hadn't taken her away, you wouldn't have been so close yet so far at the very end..."
However, he never asked those questions again.
What's the point of asking now?
Huo Zhanbai's fingers tightened, and the white porcelain wine glass made a soft cracking sound. As if gathering immense courage, he finally spoke in a low voice: "She... passed away peacefully?"
"There was still a smile on his face."
"……That's good."
After a brief exchange, the two fell silent again.
Yami turned her face away, not wanting to look into the other person's eyes, her hand holding the book trembling slightly uncontrollably—
Yes, that was a lie. Her death was actually extremely tragic and resolute.
He would forever remember the suppressed trembling she felt as the poison took effect, how tightly her fingers gripped his shoulders, and how, in her dying moments, she gazed up at the cold, gray, snow-covered sky and cheered with a childlike joy. Of course, he would also remember the golden needle that so resolutely plunged into her throat—these memories were like a knife, each recollection cutting a deep, snow-covered wound into his heart, a slow, agonizing torture that would never cease as long as he lived.
He has enough to bear this memory on his own, why should another person suffer?
"Where...is she buried?" Huo Zhanbai finally couldn't help but ask.
“Right here in the cemetery of Moga village,” Yami said quietly, “next to that person.”
Is that person... still the same person in the end?
Huo Zhanbai gazed at the empty water, and suddenly felt a sense of peace. The flames of pain that had been tormenting him had been extinguished. He no longer resented the person who had protected her at the last moment, nor did he suffer for the pain of missing out on her—because in the end, she belonged only to that cold earth.
Winter nights, summer days. After a hundred years, return to one's room.
"I heard you've become the Pavilion Master of Dingjian Pavilion." Ya Mi changed the subject, still with a faint smile. "Congratulations."
“If I had a choice, I would rather grow old in Medicine King Valley like you—” Huo Zhanbai exhaled a long breath, without a trace of joy, “but unless you die completely like you, you can’t live as you please again, right? I can’t do that.”
"This doesn't sound like something someone about to become the overlord of the Central Plains would say..." Ya Mi just smiled, but her voice changed, and she said calmly, "Tong has also recently ascended to the throne of the Great Bright Palace Pope - from now on, you will once again stand at the peak and fight each other."
"What?" Huo Zhanbai looked up in surprise. "Tong has become the Pope? How did you know?"
“Of course I know,” Yami shook her head. “I originally came from there.”
A hint of sadness flashed in his eyes as he turned to look at Huo Zhanbai: "You are her best friend, and Tong is her brother. Now you have become irreconcilable enemies—if she knew this in the afterlife, she would be heartbroken."
Huo Zhanbai lowered his head, supporting his forehead with his hand, feeling his palms were icy cold while his forehead was burning hot.
"Then what do you want us to do?" he murmured with a bitter smile. "Since ancient times, good and evil have been irreconcilable."
"I just want you all to sit down and have a drink together." Ya Mi smiled quietly, but her eyes were looking behind Huo Zhanbai.
Who? Who's behind me?! Huo Zhanbai instantly sobered up, turning around in surprise. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a black cloak draped to the ground. The person inside the cloak had a pair of dazzling, icy blue eyes. Having listened for an unknown amount of time, they simply drifted silently down from the woods and walked into the pavilion.
"Tong?" Huo Zhanbai stared in surprise at the newly appointed leader of the sect who had suddenly appeared in Medicine King Valley, his hand never leaving his sword.
—This person just seized supreme power in the Great Bright Palace from a bloody riot. Why isn't he properly governing the Western Regions? What is he doing here? Could it be that he learned that Elder Nangong is seriously ill and wants to come and disrupt the situation in the Central Plains martial arts world?
However, at this moment, Yami quietly withdrew, leaving the two of them alone facing each other. (www.L)
The young pope didn't say a word, nor did he show any murderous intent. He simply sat down in front of him silently, picked up the wine jug, filled the wine cup in front of him, then picked it up, nodded slightly to him, tilted his head back, and drank it all in one gulp.
Huo Zhanbai stared blankly as he drank three glasses in a row, watching the wine spill from the corners of his mouth and flow down his pale neck into his collar.
He drank too quickly, choked, and released his grip on the table, coughing violently, a sickly flush rising on his pale face. But the new leader paid no heed, continuing to pour himself another glass of wine, coughing incessantly, tears welling in his icy blue eyes. At that moment, he didn't resemble a new king of the Demon Palace controlling the Western Regions at all, but rather a bewildered child.
Huo Zhanbai stared at him intently, a sudden surge of warmth rushing to his heart. In that instant, all notions of good and evil, of the martial world, vanished from his mind. He tossed the Ink Soul Sword to the ground, snatched the wine jug, filled his cup, and tilted his head back—
"Come!"
He drank the liquor while laughing, the strong liquor igniting a fire in his throat, as if it would burn through his heart and lungs.
Yes, she had said that drinking alone is bad for your health. It turns out, this jar of fine wine was meant to drown their sorrows.
And so they drank in silence, one cup for you, one cup for me, without words, without complaint, without even exchanging a glance. The newly appointed head of the Dingjian Pavilion and the young King of the Great Bright Palace sat facing each other, silently drinking down the jar she had left them as a final memento.
Gradually, they all became drunk. In their drunken stupor, they vaguely heard the distant sound of a reed pipe outside the window. The drunkard slapped the table and laughed loudly, raising his cup to the void: "Newly brewed wine, green as ants; a small red clay stove, a gentle fire. Evening approaches, and snow is imminent; shall we drink a cup together?"
Then, the glass of wine was poured onto the ground, seeping into the soil and disappearing without a trace. Through blurry, drunken eyes, watching the person singing and laughing, he vaguely understood that the other was keeping a promise that could never be kept—
Who can stay by your side forever? Your lifelong obsession is in vain!
I've laughed and joked with you countless times, only to suddenly realize what night this is.
He suddenly laughed: What night is this?
After getting drunk and laughing heartily, he knew clearly that the party was over and the party was over.
“I can tell that my sister really likes you.” Tong gazed at him and suddenly spoke, “If it weren’t for saving me, she would definitely be sitting here drinking with you right now.”
Huo Zhanbai paused, looking at the young cult leader. He suddenly noticed that the young cult leader's eyes were a deep blue. This ruthless and meticulous top assassin, the new cult leader who ascended the throne amidst bloodshed, was now as vulnerable as a naive young man.
Before he could say anything more, Tong threw her wine glass in front of him: "Let's not talk about this. Drink!"
They drank to their hearts' content, finishing the entire jar of aged liquor. His memory of the rest was hazy; he only vaguely remembered the two of them talking at length about the martial arts world, about the world at large, and about their insights on martial arts—