When Fan Xian decided to once again pass through the narrow passageway under the snowy mountain, the most intense argument the group of three had since meeting at Wuduhe exploded into. The argument stemmed from differences in opinion. All three of them knew why Fan Xian had to return to the Temple. However, Haitang and Thirteenth Wang knew even better that this was a great risk. Everyone had escaped from the Temple with great difficulty. The blind Great Master, who had attacked Fan Xian for some reason, did not directly kill him. If Fan Xian returned, who knew what awaited him?
Haitang and Thirteenth Wang were both worried about Fan Xian's life and death. A reality that made them feel complicated was that the Temple did not seem to care about their life and death. It was only trying to keep Fan Xian in the Temple forever.
Whether it was summer or autumn, the wind and snow in the extreme north gradually began to blow again. The air was filled with a coldness that made one's heart palpitate. Wrapped in a thick fur collar, Haitang opened her bright but tired eyes and said sincerely to Fan Xian, "During these months, Thirteenth Wang and I haven't done anything. We can't help you with anything, but we can't just watch as you go to your death."
Fan Xian's right hand gripped a wooden stick tightly to help him walk. Hearing Haitang's words, he did not have any reaction. His face was calm.
"I think we should return south as soon as possible. Regardless of whether we go to Shangjing or back to Dongyi, the disciples of Qing Mountain or the Sword Hut should bring them back to the Temple to investigate. Presumably, the chances of rescuing that Great Master will be higher." Thirteenth Wang did not know the true relationship between Wu Zhu and Fan Xian, but he knew that Fan Xian cared deeply about the Great Grandmaster. However, he could not understand why the Great Grandmaster did not even have the courage to break the formation under the pressure of the Temple and would even stab Fan Xian.
Thirteenth Wang's suggestion was actually quite safe. Since Fan Xian knew the path to the Temple and had prepared for many years for it, adding on to his experience this time, once he returned to the South, it would not be difficult for him to bring some powerful helpers when he returned to the North.
After Fan Xian heard Thirteenth Wang's words, his eyes narrowed. The coldness was like the temperature in the air, enveloping the faces of his companions beside him. Enunciating each word, he said slowly but with unusual firmness, "Don't forget the oath we made before we entered the snowy plains. Other than the three of us, no one else in the world can know of the whereabouts of the Temple."
Thirteenth Wang's expression changed slightly, but he closed his mouth. This was something he and Haitang had promised Fan Xian. However, he didn't know why Fan Xian had the courage to explore the Temple again but seemed to feel boundless fear and nervousness at the possibility that the whereabouts of the Temple could be spread into the world.
"Thirteen, help me up the mountain. You stay at the foot of the snowy mountain. Think of a way to bring Ah Da, Ah Er, and the others to this side." Fan Xian pulled back his gaze from the snowy mountains that pierced into the sky. His eyes were slightly moist as he looked at Haitang wrapped in a fur jacket. In a quiet voice, he said, "Wait at the camp for us to come back."
"I'm not going up the mountain with you?" Haitang's face, which was not covered by her fur, was blushing as she asked in surprise.
"Earlier, you said you didn't help much on this trip to the Temple," Fan Xian smiled self-mockingly. "Actually, without you, I would have long died in the ice and snow. So, don't say such things again. This time, I'm going up the mountain to deal with my uncle. Regardless of whether it's you or Thirteenth Wang, you won't be able to have any effect on this battle situation. "
He said apologetically, "These words are a bit rude, but, as you know, my uncle is indeed too powerful."
Haitang and Thirteenth Wang didn't say anything. Fan Xian continued calmly, "If I didn't need someone to support me, I wouldn't even want to bring Thirteenth Wang. In a moment, the two of us will go up the mountain. You wait at the foot of the mountain and prepare to provide support. If things go wrong, we'll leave the mountain lightly. However, don't worry too much. According to the rules of the Temple, other than me, as long as you leave the Temple's boundaries, they won't initiate an attack. "
"If it's to provide support, how long do I have to wait at the foot of the mountain for you?" A faint light swirled through Haitang's eyes as she asked faintly. A different feeling rose in her heart. In this wilderness of the Mountain Temple shrouded in wind and snow, human martial power appeared weak and small. Compared to that, the things in Fan Xian's mind were more worth relying on.
"Three days … and Thirteen will be in charge of contacting you. If I let you leave …" A faint worry suddenly appeared in Fan Xian's eyes. He looked very much like a frail youth. "You must leave immediately. At the very least, you must inform my wife and children … what has happened to me."
Haitang and Thirteenth Wang sank into silence at the same time.
…
…
The further up the mountain, the less wind and snow there was. The Temple deep in the mountain range, hidden by the sky and ice and snow, was right above. The second time he had come, he was already an old friend. Naturally, he knew the old path. Fan Xian supported himself with one hand on the wooden stick and the other on Thirteenth Wang's shoulder. With great difficulty, he climbed up the snowy mountain. Before long, he came to the serene and straight stone path.
Thirteenth Wang carried a large urn on his back. It looked very heavy. During these few months, Thirteenth Wang had been training his body and mind in the cold ice and snow. His willpower was strong to the extreme, so he did not care about this kind of burden. Fan Xian looked at his figure. His eyes lit up slightly. He immediately restrained it. After coughing, he said, "Even if we have to bury your teacher in the Temple and complete his final wish, we still had to make this trip."
Thirteenth Wang was silent for a moment. He then said, "You don't have to worry about me. If it was only for this matter, I could have come alone. You seem to have naturally offended the gods in the Temple. If I follow you, it will be much more dangerous for me."
Fan Xian smiled and scolded, "You heartless thing."
"Teacher's final wish was for his ashes to be scattered on these stone steps …" Thirteenth Wang suddenly sighed and looked at the stone steps in front of him that reached into the sky.
Fan Xian was silent for a moment. He then shook his head. "The sword saint thought this was a godly realm, so he was willing to place it on these stone steps. You and I have both been to the Temple. We know it is not a godly realm. Are you still going to do as he wishes?"
"Then, what should we do?"
"Carry it on your back and listen to me in a bit."
Ever since that snowy night a few years ago, Thirteenth Wang had been sent to the Qing Kingdom by his teacher, Sigu Jian, to be by Fan Xian's side, he had grown used to listening to Fan Xian. Although Fan Xian saw him as a friend, Thirteenth Wang did not have much self-awareness as a partner. Perhaps it was because he was too lazy to think too many complicated things or because he wholeheartedly served the sword, he left all the things that needed to be done with his brain to Fan Xian. Fan Xian said he would listen to everything he said. Thirteenth Wang also listened to everything he said. Carrying the heavy urn of ashes, he supported the heavily injured Fan Xian and climbed step by step toward the snowy mountain.
After climbing for an indeterminable amount of time, they finally reached the end of the long stone steps. The gray eaves and black walls, incomparably dignified and vast Temple, once again appeared before the eyes of mortals. Although this was his second time coming, Thirteenth Wang still couldn't help but feel a faint surge of emotion upon seeing the Temple's true appearance.
Fan Xian's mood was very calm. However, the air in his chest was a bit agitated. He began to cough violently. The sound of his coughing spread disrespectfully through the large platform in front of the Temple and traveled far into the snowy valley in the mountain range.
Thirteenth Wang glanced at him nervously. Since he had come to steal, he should at least have some self-awareness of plucking flowers. How could he be so presumptuous? It was as if he was afraid the Temple didn't know there was someone outside.
Fan Xian coughed for a long time until his body was bent like a shrimp. He almost tore open the wound on his chest. Only then did he slowly straighten his body. His back was perfectly straight. His pupils constricted slightly as he looked coldly at the large sign above the Temple, as well as the word "not" and three Ms on it. He maintained a frightening silence.
Of course, the Temple knew there was someone outside. Presumably, it also knew the target he wanted to eliminate. Ye Qingmei's son, Fan Xian, had also come to the Temple. What made Fan Xian feel slightly uneasy was that the Temple's current silence appeared strange. He couldn't help but think of Uncle Wu Zhu's purposeful and merciful stab.
He was not silent for long. The corner of Fan Xian's mouth twitched slightly. Staring at the Temple's thick, dark door, he took a deep breath and ruthlessly spat out a word, "Smash!"
…
…
There were very few mortals who knew the whereabouts of the Temple. Those who had been to the Temple were even fewer. At least, in the last few hundred years, probably only the Great Sorcerer Bohr in the West and Ku He and Xiao En in the East had come. Even Bohr's wife, Fu Bowa, had not had the opportunity to visit the Temple. In people's imagination, no matter who came to the Temple, they would always be respectful. No one would have thought that someone would smash the Temple's door.
Breaking the door and entering was the way of a hooligan. Although whether or not the Temple's thick door would break was another matter, at least Fan Xian's word represented that he was not afraid of angering the Temple. It was probably because he knew that the Temple was a dead object and did not have the emotions that humans should have.
Thirteenth Wang did not hesitate. With a muffled grunt, he lifted Sigu Jian's urn of ashes to his side with one hand and circulated the zhenqi in his body. With a whoosh, he viciously smashed the brown urn of ashes.
With a bang, the urn of ashes was smashed into pieces against the Temple's thick door, sending up countless clouds of dust. Occasionally, a few pieces of bone that had not been burned to pieces flew out.
The pink mist formed by the bone ashes gradually dispersed. The thick main door of the temple was not smashed, but there was a deep mark on it. It looked somewhat miserable. What was especially glaring was that beside the mark, there was a piece of bone piercing deeply into the door.
It was like a sword.
Thirteenth Wang's lips were slightly dry. His eyes stared fixedly at the piece of bone. He thought to himself that even though his teacher had died, the remains he left behind were still full of sword intent.
This was the perplexed feeling of being a disciple. Thirteenth Wang looked at Sigu Jian's ashes scattered on the Temple's front door and stone platform. For some reason, he became excited. The last sliver of fear and nervousness in the depths of his heart had disappeared.
Fan Xian suddenly laughed in a raspy voice. "If your teacher knew that his bones could smash the Temple's front door again, his spirit would probably fly around happily …"
These two young men understood Sigu Jian's intentions very well. They knew that smashing the urn of ashes on the Temple's door was very much in line with the Great Grandmaster's thoughts.
Thirteenth Wang finally also laughed out loud.
The only thing that needed to be considered was that since the Temple's door had already been smashed, the Temple had to have some sort of reaction. Thirteenth Wang accepted the wooden stick from Fan Xian's hand. His waist lowered slightly. Staring at the Temple's door, he began to prepare to fight the tiger.
Fan Xian raised his right hand and stopped him. There was a not-quite-there smile on his face as he quietly waited for the Temple's reaction. His heart had long shaken off anything related to fear and loss. Haitang and Thirteenth Wang thought it was a risk for him to go to the Temple again, but he did not think so. When it came to the Temple, he had miscalculated once and almost died. However, he did not think he would miscalculate again this time. After all, in the Temple, there was only Uncle Wu Zhu. As long as he could wake Wu Zhu, what was the Temple?
…
…
The Temple's reaction was very fast. The heavy door only opened a sliver. A strange and terrifying black light floated out from inside. Like a bolt of black lightning, it was also like the arrival of a smear of night. In an instant, it passed through space and time and came in front of Fan Xian.
Clothed in black cloth and holding a metal rod in his hand, the rod pierced out. It whistled through the air. No one could stop such a terrifying attack.
Fan Xian could not. Thirteenth Wang could not. Even if Sigu Jian was alive, he could not. Furthermore, the Sigu Jian between the three of them was only a few pieces of broken bones and a pile of ashes on the ground.
…
…
The emotionless and callous metal rod was about to pierce in front of Fan Xian's body when it suddenly stopped.
To be able to recover to absolute calmness so quickly, what kind of terrifying power was this? Fan Xian calmly looked at the familiar relative in front of him, the unfamiliar powerful warrior and guard of the Temple emissary. "Are you curious?"
…
…
No one knew if it was because Wu Zhu had recognized the mortal in front of him as the target the Temple needed to eliminate or because Fan Xian had said such strange words. In any case, Wu Zhu's metal rod did not pierce out. It only stopped in front of Fan Xian's throat.
The tip of the metal rod was not very sharp. It did not carry any powerful zhenqi that made one tremble. It only maintained a distance between it and the soft bones of Fan Xian's throat. All the person holding the metal rod needed to do was shake their fingers and Fan Xian's throat would break and he would die.
Thirteenth Wang watched this scene nervously from the side. He finally believed Fan Xian's words. In front of this strange plain-clothed Great Grandmaster, no one could help Fan Xian. In the end, the only person who could help Fan Xian was himself.
It was as if Fan Xian could not see the metal rod under his chin. He only looked at Uncle Wu Zhu, who was very close to him. With a warm smile, he quietly said, "I know you are curious."
"You are curious as to why you would go against your instinctive obedience to the old man in the Temple and let me out of the Temple that day, even though you knew I wasn't dead." Fan Xian's eyes were bright.
"You are curious as to who I am and why I clearly do not exist in your memories, but when you look at me, I feel very familiar and close." Fan Xian's eyes were clear and spirited.
"You are more curious as to how I avoided your sure-kill strike that day. You are the emissary of the Temple. I am a mortal of the world, a target that the Temple must eliminate. Why do I understand you so well?" Fan Xian slowly said as he looked at Uncle Wu Zhu's indifferent face.
"Of course, please believe me. In this world, no one knows better than me what your greatest curiosity is right now."
"You are curious as to why you feel a sense of familiarity and closeness. What you are most curious about is why you are curious!"
Seven consecutive sentences about curiosity spat out from Fan Xian's thin and pale lips. There was not the slightest bit of obstruction or hesitation. Some of them gushed out and pressed forward step by step. Some of them only pointed directly at the cold heart covered by the black cloth.
After the seven sentences, Fan Xian immediately felt exhaustion wash over him. He couldn't resist coughing.
After he finished coughing, his eyes grew brighter. The hope in his heart grew stronger. No one knew that when Uncle Wu Zhu's metal rod was so close to the cartilage of his throat, even if he moved a sliver, he would bleed on the spot, much less violently cough.
The reason he hadn't died after coughing was because of the metal rod in Wu Zhu's hand. It was precise to an unimaginable degree. As Fan Xian's body trembled and moved, it moved forward and backward. To make a snail's horn in an instant was truly powerful.
…
…
Thirteenth Wang began to stare closely at Fan Xian's hand. When he realized that he couldn't change anything in front of this strange blind man, he began to watch Fan Xian's body nervously. When Fan Xian coughed, his heart also chilled. Immediately after, he realized that Fan Xian was still alive. This reality made him involuntarily admire Fan Xian to the extreme. He also finally understood where Fan Xian's confidence came from when he ignored his and Haitang's objections under the snowy mountain.
But, Fan Xian was not nervous at all. Was he not at all worried that he would be killed by this blind man with black cloth in front of him? Thirteenth Wang didn't believe it. He clearly saw that Fan Xian's hands behind his back had been trembling slightly the entire time.
Thirteenth Wang took a few steps back toward the stone steps and increased the distance between him and the two of them. He saw Fan Xian's hand gesture and was worried that his existence would disrupt Fan Xian's plans and cause a change to happen to the blind Great Master.
Fan Xian's emotions did not completely relax. He stared closely at the black cloth over Uncle Wu Zhu's eyes, trying to see the endless questions in his heart from his expression. A moment later, he found that all of this was futile. Uncle Wu Zhu's face was still indifferent, and the aura between his brows was still unfamiliar.
Being always icy could not be considered familiar. In his life, Wu Zhu had only smiled at Fan Xian a few times. However, Wu Zhu's indifference in front of the Temple was truly unfamiliar.
Fan Xian's heart sank slightly. His body also sank with it. Very naturally, he sat down in the shallow snow in front of the Temple door. He did not care at all about the metal drill at his throat, which could kill him at any moment.
Miraculously, Wu Zhu also sat down, sitting in front of the Temple door. Sitting there alone, it was as if he was blocking all the prying eyes of the world and the howling wind and snow for thousands of years.
The metal drill continued to stretch out in Wu Zhu's hand. It was as steady as his forearm, resting on Fan Xian's throat. Perhaps he could hold it like this for 10,000 years and not feel tired.
However, Fan Xian felt tired, particularly as Uncle Wu Zhu sat coldly and did not speak. Perhaps there was some warmth in the heart of this icy body, but it still did not warm up. This reality made Fan Xian feel tired. He didn't know if he could wake up this closest family member.
In his life, he was most skilled in battles of the mind. His two most outstanding battles were against Haitang and the Emperor. In the end, Haitang had lost to him. Even someone as powerful as the Qing Emperor could not rest easy under the entanglement of Fan Xian's thoughts. Even though father and son had turned against each other, it still left wounds all over the Emperor's heart.
Going to the Temple again this time to try to wake Uncle Wu Zhu was, without question, a true battle of the mind. However, it was also the most difficult battle of Fan Xian's life. Uncle Wu Zhu was not a mortal. From his body to his thoughts, he was not a mortal. He was a legend. He was icy. He was a program. Most importantly, he had forgotten everything. He had forgotten himself and his mother.
Wu Zhu sank into an eternally unchanging silence. It brought even more difficulty to Fan Xian's plan. Without conversation, how could he know the changes in the other party's thoughts? How could he take the opportunity to enter and directly strike at the heart? Look at the other party's expression and observe the expression? But, what expression had Uncle Wu Zhu ever had in his life?
…
…
"You've been whitewashed." After a long silence, Fan Xian let out a sorrowful sigh. "To think that you are a legendary figure in the Temple. You are clearly of a higher level than the old man in the Temple. How is it that you've been whitewashed?"
In Fan Xian's view, Uncle Wu Zhu, who had feelings, thoughts, and awareness, had always been a living person. Naturally, he was of a much higher level than the old man in the Temple who controlled everything but still only knew how to follow the dogsh * t four laws. However, it looked like the Temple had a method of controlling the emissaries that went out that no one knew about. Otherwise, Wu Zhu would not have become an inhuman machine.
Although Wu Zhu back then was not very human, Fan Xian was not very human.
"My name is Fan Xian. I told you that day. Although you have forgotten, I want to tell you a story. This story is related to you, and it is also related to me. I hope you can remember something. Of course, even if you remember, perhaps you will not be able to break the chains on your heart. But, we have to try. "
"At least you don't want to kill me. This is probably something in your instincts. Isn't that good?" Fan Xian followed the perfectly straight metal rod and looked at Uncle Wu Zhu's icy face. He wanted to smile but almost cried. He forcefully took a deep breath and calmed the emotions in his heart. He then began to speak. "A long time ago, there was a pretty little girl who lived with you in this Temple. Do you still remember?"
The unmoving metal rod in Wu Zhu's hand moved in and out as Fan Xian took a deep breath. It was very miraculous, but it still stuck to Fan Xian's throat. Just like when Fan Xian's throat moved when he spoke, it also moved with the metal rod. However, this movement was very small, so small that it could not be clearly seen by the naked eye.
Fan Xian did not care how much Uncle Wu Zhu remembered. Calmly and sincerely, he continued to narrate the story related to Wu Zhu. The little girl who had helped him escape from the Temple. They had gone to Dongyi together. They had met an idiot and done some things. Then, they had gone to Danzhou. They had met a group of idiots and a eunuch idiot. Then, everything else …
The snow in the sky slowly floated down. It brought an indescribable feeling of holiness and solemnity to the surroundings of the Temple. Perhaps the old man in the Temple was using a silent method to endlessly urge Wu Zhu to move. Fan Xian sometimes coughed and sometimes was silent. His unusually raspy and tired voice seemed to be the complete opposite of an order. It had Wu Zhu maintain his current posture and sit motionlessly by the door of the Temple.
Gradually, the white snow covered their bodies. Wu Zhu was clearly closer to the eaves of the Temple, but more snow had accumulated on his body. Perhaps it was because his body temperature was relatively low.
The weather grew colder and colder. The snow on Fan Xian's body melted and flowed down along his leather jacket. The coldness seeped into his body and made him cough more frequently. However, his words did not stop at all. He continued to narrate the past, everything about Wu Zhu's past.
"The scene on that carriage seems to be rewinding …" Fan Xian coughed and used the corner of his sleeve to wipe away his snot, which had already turned to ice. Although he was wretched, the light in his eyes did not dim at all. He knew that this battle of the heart was a battle against the Temple's control over Uncle Wu Zhu. He did not have any room to relax.
"In Danzhou, you opened a general store, but business was not very good. It was often closed. Your face was always icy, so of course, no one was willing to look after your business."
Fan Xian smiled sourly and continued in a raspy voice, "Of course, I was willing to look after your business. Although I was still young at the time, you often prepared some good wine for me to drink."
As he spoke, Fan Xian seemed to have returned to his childhood after his rebirth. At that time, life in Danzhou was somewhat dull and tedious. His grandmother treated him strictly but kindly and refused to slack off in her studies. Furthermore, the people of Danzhou did not give him the opportunity to kill in all directions. He could only desperately practice the Tyrannical martial method, follow Sir Fei everywhere to dig up corpses, and work hard to memorize the Overwatch Council's regulations and execution rules. He also had to prevent assassination attempts.
However, those were, after all, the happiest days of Fan Xian's two lives. It was not only because of Danzhou's refreshing sea breeze and the beautiful camellias covering the mountain. It was also not because of Dong 'er's gentleness or the four serving girls' loveliness. The biggest reason was because of that general store, that icy blind young servant, the yellow flowers on the precipice, and the education under the stick.
As Fan Xian spoke, he was somewhat lost in thought. He thought of when he went to the general store to steal wine to drink as a child. Uncle Wu Zhu would always shred radishes for him to drink without caring how old he was. Involuntarily, a glimmer of warmth rose to the corners of his lips.
Like a magic trick, Fan Xian took out a radish from his swollen leather jacket and then a kitchen knife. He began to chop and chop at the green stone ground in front of the temple, cutting the radish. The green stone ground in front of the temple had experienced thousands of years of wind, frost, and snow, but it was still smooth. Using it as a chopping board, although it was a bit stiff, it had a certain crispness.
The knife moved like it was flying. In just a moment, a frozen and crisp radish was cut into shreds of uniform thickness and placed neatly on the green stone ground.
While cutting the radish, Fan Xian didn't speak. Wu Zhu tilted his head and looked calmly at the knife and radish in Fan Xian's hand through the black cloth. It seemed that he didn't understand what was happening in front of him.
Cutting radish shreds in front of the temple, if Fan Xian could survive, presumably would be the most arrogant thing he had ever done in his life. It was more arrogant than jumping off the palace walls to kill Qin Ye, more arrogant than charging into the Royal Palace to slap the empress dowager, and even more arrogant than entering the Palace with a single sword to assassinate the Emperor.
However, Wu Zhu still didn't seem to remember anything. He was just curious about Fan Xian's senseless action. Fan Xian lowered his head and sighed. He threw the kitchen knife to the side and pointed at the radish shreds in front of him. In a light voice, he said, "Back then, you always complained that my radish shreds weren't cut well. What do you think of my cutting now?"
Wu Zhu straightened his head and remained cold and silent. A thick coldness grew in Fan Xian's heart. He suddenly felt that he was doing useless work. No matter what he did, it was impossible to wake Uncle Wu Zhu. Uncle Wu Zhu was already dead and would never come back to life again.
The world was very cold. The Temple was very cold. However, Fan Xian seemed to have only just felt it. His entire body shivered.
He suddenly gritted his teeth with all his strength. He bit down until a trail of blood seeped out from the corner of his lips. He stared fixedly at Wu Zhu angrily. It was a long time before his emotions calmed down. In a dark voice, he said, "I don't believe this! Don't pretend! I know you remember! "
"I know you remember!" Fan Xian's voice was extremely raspy. The continuous talking had hurt his vocal cords. "I don't believe you've forgotten the many years we spent together on the cliff. I don't believe you've forgotten. That night, when we were talking about the chest and mother, you smiled. Have you forgotten?"
"What about that rainy night? You tricked Hong Siyang out of the Palace. Later, you bragged to me that you could kill him. We stole the key back and opened the chest. Then, you smiled again. "
Fan Xian coughed violently and scolded, "You clearly know how to smile. Why are you pretending to be dead?"
Wu Zhu still did not move. The metal drill in his hand also did not move as it pierced Fan Xian's throat. The snow continued to fall coldly. In front of the Temple, other than Fan Xian's voice, there was no other movement. Gradually, the sky darkened slightly. Perhaps it was already night, or perhaps it was just the clouds thickening. However, the snow above Fan Xian's head stopped.
A rustling sound rang out. Thirteenth Wang's head was covered in sweat. He set up a small spare tent behind Fan Xian and then pushed it over Fan Xian's head, covering his entire body. Coincidentally, the tent's door was between Fan Xian and Wu Zhu, so he did not move the stable metal drill.
The snow was heavy. Thirteenth Wang was worried about Fan Xian's health, so he had gone through a lot of trouble earlier and rushed back to the camp as quickly as possible. He had brought a small tent to help Fan Xian block the snow. No wonder he was panting so heavily.
Perhaps Fan Xian knew, or perhaps he didn't. He only stared unblinkingly at Wu Zhu with his absent-minded or lifeless eyes. In an unpleasant and raspy voice, he spoke with all his might. Fan Xian was not a chatterbox. The words he said that day were probably more than he had in his entire life.
After Thirteenth Wang finished all this, he glanced at the two strange people at the door of the Temple with a complicated expression. He once again sat down on the stone steps covered in snow.
Only three idiots could do such an idiotic thing.
…
…
A day and a night passed.
The metal drill in Wu Zhu's hand didn't leave Fan Xian's throat for a day and a night. It seemed that even he didn't know why he didn't want to kill this talkative mortal in front of him.
Fan Xian spoke nonstop for a day and a night. It seemed that even he didn't know that his saliva had long dried up. The food and water that Thirteenth Wang had brought had all been put aside by him. His saliva dried up and regrown. After his vocal cords were damaged, they were extremely raspy. In the end, the spittle he brought had even been dyed pink. His throat began to bleed. His voice began to become so ugly that it was difficult to hear what he meant. His speaking speed was already slower than that of an old man with one foot in the grave.
Thirteenth Wang listened beside this pair of strange people for a day and a night. He began to listen very seriously. In Fan Xian's bloody and tearful complaints to Wu Zhu, he heard much of the truth of the turbulent times in the land. He learned of many magnificent figures. He also learned of Fan Xian's childhood and life as a youth.
When Fan Xian began to repeat his life biography for the third time and took out a kitchen knife for the fourth time to mimic the action of slicing radishes, hoping that Wu Zhu would remember something, Thirteenth Wang couldn't bear to listen anymore.
He hugged his knees and sat by the stone steps. Looking at the strange and beautiful shadows in the distance on the snowy mountain range, his fingers unconsciously gathered the ashes and traces of ashes by his side. It was Sigu Jian's remains.
When Haitang walked to the door of the Temple, this was the scene she saw. She saw three idiot-like people. Thirteenth Wang was sitting on the stone steps in a daze, playing with his teacher's ashes. Fan Xian was sitting like a little statue of a village god in the doorway of a small tent. He continued to speak in a raspy and unpleasant voice, as vague and difficult to understand content that was like a heavenly book. Wu Zhu extended the metal drill and didn't move at all. He was very much like a statue. This statue was covered from head to toe in snow and didn't have a glimmer of life.
The metal drill lay between Wu Zhu and Fan Xian. It was as if it separated two completely different, untouchable worlds.
Regardless of whether it was thrust out or pulled back, perhaps everyone present would feel much better. Yet, it was this coldness and stability that lay between the two of them. It made one feel endless sorrow and pain.
One person couldn't bear to leave, but the person who couldn't bear to leave still didn't understand. The most painful thing in the world was nothing more than not understanding.
With just one glance, Haitang knew what had happened during this day and night. A bitterness that was difficult to suppress rose in her heart. It was not until now that she was certain that, for Fan Xian, there were always many things that were more important than his life.
"He's gone mad." Haitang looked in a daze at the clearly inauspicious red flush on Fan Xian's face. She listened to his raspy, slow, and indistinct voice. She looked at the specks of blood-colored saliva on the snow on Wu Zhu's body. Her heart felt a stabbing pain.
Thirteenth Wang stood with unusual difficulty. Looking at her in silence for a moment, he said, "You've gone mad. Otherwise, why wouldn't you listen to him and come up?"
"I just felt that since he was going to die, I also wanted to see him die," Haitang glanced at Thirteenth Wang and said with her head slightly lowered.
"He won't be able to hold out for long. His injury has never healed. That day, he was stabbed through and lost too much blood. Even if he wanted to pass through the icy plains and return south, it would be a difficult task. Furthermore, he doesn't care for his life and insisted on trying." Thirteenth Wang turned around and stood side by side with Haitang. He looked at Fan Xian, who seemed to know nothing and feel nothing and continued to try to wake Wu Zhu. Calmly, he said, "He's been talking for an entire day and night and has been frozen for an entire day and night. If he continues like this, there is only death."
"Can you persuade him to leave? It looks like the blind great master didn't listen to the order of the immortals in the temple to kill him. "
"It would be better if you killed him. Then you wouldn't have to be like me last night, hearing his hopeless voice the entire time." Thirteenth Wang suddenly smiled and said, "However, I truly admire Fan Xian. It is very rare to see someone so ruthless to himself."
Haitang looked at Fan Xian's pale, flushed, and exhausted face. She looked at it for a long time. Suddenly, her body trembled slightly. A glimmer of light rose in her eyes that was brighter than the mountain range and valley.
Thirteenth Wang suddenly felt a ripple beside him. He stared at Haitang with wide eyes.
…
…
A mouthful of fresh blood sprayed out and struck the black cloth close to him. It then flowed down the icy snow on that icy face. It appeared particularly ghastly.
However, Wu Zhu still did not move. With unusual difficulty, Fan Xian wiped away the blood at the corner of his lips. He knew that he was at the end of his rope. A hopeless feeling rose in his heart. The family in front of him was still unfamiliar, still cold, still soulless, still dead.
Fan Xian couldn't help but shiver again. He suddenly remembered that Uncle Wu Zhu had always been responsible for spreading the fire seed for the Temple and had walked the world for tens of thousands of years. He probably had hundreds of thousands of years' worth of memories in his mind. Perhaps, perhaps, the unforgettable memories he had coughed up blood and repeated this day and night were only common existences for the body in front of him that was as cold as a snowy mountain. It was the same for his mother, Ye Qingmei's memories.
It was as if he could use these common stories to awaken a person with countless experiences and memories. What a childish and absurd idea. Thinking of this, all of Fan Xian's hopes turned to dust. A sense of hopelessness rose in his eyes.
His voice was slightly twisted. It appeared particularly distressed and unclear. He roared in a raspy voice at the eternally unmoving Uncle Wu Zhu in front of him, "How could you forget me? Are you addicted to amnesia?! Last time, you at least remembered Ye Qingmei. How could you forget even me this time? "
The metal drill was close at hand, still at the vital point of his throat. Fan Xian's entire body trembled. His body was stiff. He sank into a death-like silence because he had already lost his voice. He could no longer say anything. His body trembled more and more violently. The hopelessness in his eyes had long transformed into the flames of madness and anger.
He stared fixedly at the black cloth on Wu Zhu's face. A sinister and vicious expression suddenly flashed across his face. He leaped toward the other party.
…
…
Fan Xian's body had long been frozen. Although he had leaped, in reality, he was falling straight toward Wu Zhu's position. His throat crashed into the metal drill.
The tip of the metal drill retreated swiftly, but Fan Xian still fell down. He fell down heavily. Thus, the metal drill in Wu Zhu's hand could only retreat further. When there was nowhere else to retreat, he could only let go, allowing Fan Xian, who had been frozen like a popsicle, to fall in front of him.
Fan Xian extended a hand and viciously grabbed a corner of Wu Zhu's clothes. Snow rustled and fell down. He stared into Wu Zhu's eyes. Although he could not speak, the vicious and self-confident look in his eyes declared one thing. You don't want to kill me!
You don't want to kill me. You can't kill me. Although you don't know who I am, your instincts, your heart, have me.
"Come with me!" Fan Xian, who had been unable to speak, suddenly became spirited. He let go of the metal drill and lowered his head in thought.
His desperate leap had finally pushed the metal drill between him and Wu Zhu away. The distance between the two worlds could not be any closer. It was at this moment that Fan Xian made his request.
Wu Zhu was silent for a long time. His face was still expressionless. "I don't know who you are."
"When you don't know anything, just follow your heart."
"What is the heart?"
"Feelings?"
"Feelings are only a method humans use to deceive themselves and numb themselves. In the end, they can only deceive for a while."
"Life has always been a moment, a moment plus a moment. If you can deceive for a while, you can deceive for a lifetime. If you can deceive for a lifetime, how can it be considered deceiving?"
"But I still don't know who you are. I also don't know who I am."
"You don't need to know who I am. If you want to know who you are, you have to come with me. I know you are curious. Curiosity is a feeling that only humans have. You are human. Only humans want to know what is on the other side of the mountain, what is on the other side of the sea, what are the stars, what is the sun. "
"What is on the other side of the mountain?"
"You have to see for yourself. Since you want to know what is outside the temple, you have to come with me."
"Why is this conversation so familiar? But I still don't quite understand it."
"Do not be at a loss. Flash like lightning and let out a thunderbolt from your eyes! Do what you think. If you can't figure it out, follow your heart and leave this temple where even birds don't shit. "
"But the temple …"
These conversations did not actually happen. At least, Wu Zhu and Fan Xian, who was lying in the snow, did not have such a conversation. After Fan Xian said those three words, the two of them only looked at each other in silence. Then, Wu Zhu, with great difficulty, bent his body and picked up Fan Xian. He then placed him on his back.
It was just like the blind young servant carrying the infant many years ago.
…
…
Fan Xian felt the icy cold back in front of him, but he felt it was unusually warm. The expression on his face was indifferent because the emotions in his heart could not be expressed with any expression. He wanted to cry, but he also wanted to laugh. He knew that Uncle Wu Zhu still did not remember anything, but he knew that Uncle Wu Zhu was willing to leave this broken temple with him.
Thus, he wanted to cry out happily, but he could not. He wanted to cry out loud, but he was so cold that he curled up into a ball. He could only cough furiously, endlessly coughing up blood.
Then, Fan Xian saw Haitang and Thirteenth Wang, the two most powerful young warriors in the world. At this moment, their faces were pale, and their eyes were dim. It was as if they had just experienced the most terrifying thing in the world. What was most frightening was that both of them were trembling all over. It was as if they were about to lose control of the terror in their hearts.
What had happened to make Haitang and Thirteenth Wang like this?
Thirteenth Wang looked at the scene in front of him and knew that Fan Xian had won. However, there did not seem to be a glimmer of happiness on his face. There was only lingering fear and a glimmer of faint regret. His entire body trembled like the Second Disciple of Wu Zhu. Gazing at Fan Xian, he said in a dry voice, "We … destroyed the Temple."
…
…
The title of the chapter is from an old book, The Most Powerful, my name. If you have time, you can read it.
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