Dusk was black as ink. A blue-green shadow swept silently over the tightly packed rooftops of Jia Yuan City, finally landing on the upturned eaves of the Mo Residence's tallest tower.
Jing Wen stood with his hands behind his back, his robes stirring gently in the night breeze. His gaze pierced the window lattice and settled on the restless figure inside the secret chamber.
Inside, candlelight stretched Mo Juren's shadow long.
His withered fingers kept rubbing the yellowed letter on the table-the sixth letter he had sent to Immortal Master Jing two years ago.
The black markings on his face writhed with his rapid breathing, like countless tiny venomous snakes.
"It's already been more than two years," Mo Juren murmured, his voice hoarse and dry, laden with endless anxiety and unease.
"Even allowing for the long journey from Lan Prefecture to Jing Prefecture, it's been a full two years since Jing Wen received my letters."
He had poured countless efforts into contacting Jing Wen, sending five or six letters in succession, but each had been like a pebble dropped into an abyss, stirring not a single echo.
He slowly raised a hand to his face. His fingertips touched the twisting black markings, cold and clammy, as though countless tiny insects were wriggling beneath his skin.
The markings seemed to have been given life. They spread at a rate visible to the naked eye, mercilessly devouring his vitality.
Now his lifespan was like a candlewick burned down to its end, with only two short years remaining.
Yet in Mo Juren's heart, his obsession with immortal cultivation blazed like a raging fire. More than the gradual ebbing of his life, whether he could embark on the path of cultivation and gain transcendent power was what occupied his thoughts by day and haunted his dreams by night.
"Why hasn't Jing Wen replied?" Mo Juren's brow furrowed into three deep lines, his eyes full of suspicion.
"Did he meet with disaster along the way, or... does he simply disdain to acknowledge me?" Countless guesses tangled in his mind like a snarled skein, knotting ever tighter until his heart ached and he grew increasingly unable to sit or stand at ease.
Cold sweat slid down his forehead, gleaming eerily in the candlelight.
Creak- Just as Mo Juren sank into thought, the secret chamber's door suddenly opened without a breath of wind.
"Who's there?" Mo Juren instantly went on guard. He swiftly retreated several steps, and a poisoned needle slipped from his sleeve into his palm.
A blue-green figure glided inside, candlelight casting shifting shadows across his handsome, refined face.
Mo Juren's pupils contracted sharply. The poisoned needle fell from his hand with a clatter.
His taut nerves relaxed at once, and wild joy spread across his face.
"Immortal... Immortal Master!" He stumbled to his knees, knocking his forehead hard against the stone floor. "This junior, Mo Juren, pays his respects to the Immortal Master!"
Jing Wen stepped slowly into the secret chamber, his robes moving without wind. His gaze was sharp as a blade as it swept over the map covered in red dots on the wall-each scarlet mark resembled a drop of congealed blood, glaring beneath the dim candlelight.
"How is it progressing?" Jing Wen asked, his voice as still as the deep waters of an icy pool.
Mo Juren hastily scrambled up from the floor, his stick-thin fingers trembling uncontrollably. He pointed at the map and said hoarsely, "Senior, please understand. This junior has always obeyed your instructions and acted with the utmost care..."
He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty. "I've taught the cultivation art only to the most trusted of my confidants, and arranged interlocking surveillance among them to ensure nothing can go wrong."
The candle flames flickered inside the secret chamber, making the black markings on Mo Juren's face seem to writhe like living creatures. He cautiously studied Jing Wen's expression, then quickly lowered his head.
"Over these years... more than four hundred people have taken part in cultivating it."
His fingertip moved across the map and finally stopped at its two brightest red dots. His voice suddenly turned dry. "But... but only my humble wife, Jin, and my eldest daughter, Yuzhu... have achieved a measure of success..."
At this point, Mo Juren's voice abruptly caught.
A portrait of Mo Yuzhu hung on the wall. The young woman had bright eyes and pearly teeth, and the sword at her waist lent her a valiant air.
She was his most beloved eldest daughter, the precious pearl he had cherished in his palms since childhood.
Jing Wen noticed the change in his gaze, and a trace of amusement flashed through his eyes. "What? Can't bear to part with her?"
Mo Juren shuddered, and the black markings on his face twisted violently.
He abruptly dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead against the cold floor. "Immortal Master, please understand! Yuzhu... her talent is exceptional. If she could receive your guidance..."
"I asked you," Jing Wen interrupted, his voice abruptly chilling, "have you decided?"
Deathly silence fell over the secret chamber, broken only by the crackle of the candle flames.
Mo Juren hunched his back, as though he had aged ten years in an instant.
He remembered Jin's years of toil managing his household, and the sight of Yuzhu laughing as she rode on his shoulders as a little girl...
"This junior..." He forced the words out, his voice barely recognizable in its hoarseness.
"Chooses... chooses Jin."
A cloudy tear slipped from the corner of his eye and splashed faintly against the stone floor.
Even Mo Juren himself could not tell whether that tear was for the wife who had stood beside him for so many years, or for the last scrap of humanity he still possessed.
Jing Wen watched him quietly, then suddenly took a page from his sleeve. "Bring her here tomorrow at dawn."
The page landed in Mo Juren's hands, icy enough to chill him to the bone.
He raised his head shakily, only to find the secret chamber empty. Only Mo Yuzhu's portrait on the eastern wall swayed slightly, and a glimmer of tears seemed to flash in the painted young woman's eyes.
Mo Juren slumped to the floor, his withered fingers gripping the page tightly.
He knew that after tomorrow, the woman who had borne his children and managed his household for half her life would no longer exist.
"My wife..." he murmured into the empty secret chamber. "Your husband... has wronged you..."
Outside the window, a blood moon silently rose, shrouding the Mo Residence in an uncanny red glow.
On an ornate candleholder, the flame swayed, bathing Jin's bedchamber in warm yellow light.
Jin wore a moon-white nightdress that draped over her graceful figure. Two full years had passed since she began cultivating the Burning Blood Art and reached qi refining, first layer.
Over those two years, cultivation had brought earth-shattering changes. Her hearing and vision had sharpened so much that she could clearly catch even the faint sound of leaves falling outside her window;
Her skin had become increasingly fair and delicate, like fine mutton-fat jade, suffused with a soft luster.
After becoming a cultivator, Jin's desire for higher realms grew rampant as wild grass. Naturally, the subsequent portion of the cultivation art became something she longed for constantly.
However, Mo Juren had told her that cultivating its subsequent portion required the aid of medicinal pills, and one rare principal ingredient needed to refine those pills was still missing.
Fortunately, Mo Juren had already located the herb. It simply had yet to mature, and would take anywhere from half a year to five years before it could be harvested.
After that, Jin asked about the herb's progress every few days.
Each time she was told it had yet to mature, her heart filled with disappointment.
Just as Jin was frowning over the matter, the door creaked open, and Mo Juren walked in.
"My wife, we can refine the pills tomorrow!" Mo Juren's voice was hoarse, but he could not conceal his excitement.
At his words, Jin's eyes instantly shone like stars, and her tightly furrowed brows relaxed.
Disregarding Mo Juren's now fearsome appearance, she threw herself straight into his arms.
Over the two years since Mo Juren had returned from his travels, he seemed to have been mercilessly crushed beneath the weight of time, becoming terribly aged and haggard.
His once-upright body now stooped like a shrimp, and his face was covered in strange, black, feeler-like markings. Like twisted centipedes, they seemed poised to stir beneath his skin, a sight that inspired dread and made one's stomach turn.
Even so, Jin had offered to share his bed several times.
Especially when she encountered a bottleneck in her cultivation and found herself trapped, the powerful lure of immortality seemed to instantly overcome her physical revulsion,
Or perhaps the deep affection they had once shared as husband and wife stirred in her heart, prompting her to set aside her misgivings.
Now, Jin nestled in Mo Juren's arms, her cheeks flushed and her eyes full of anticipation. She whispered, "Husband, let me attend to you tonight."
A complicated emotion flashed through Mo Juren's eyes, mingling gratitude with helplessness.
He slowly reached out and gently stroked Jin's hair, comforting her in a warm voice. "My wife, in my present state, I truly am unworthy of you.
"Once we've both become cultivators, we can enjoy the pleasures of fish and water again."
Jin wholeheartedly agreed. After all, Mo Juren's current appearance did indeed repel her.
Mo Juren sighed softly, his chest rising and falling slightly. His hands gently clasped Jin's slender wrists, and with a barely perceptible tremor, he slowly pushed her away.
He gazed at Jin, affection welling in his eyes, and said softly, "My wife, you've always been extraordinarily gifted. Once you take the pill tomorrow, reaching qi refining second layer will take no more than an instant.
"Once your cultivation advances, you'll be able to help me dispel the icy chill inside my body.
"We've planned for so long for our great pursuit of immortality. A few more days won't matter."
A blush instantly colored Jin's cheeks, like peach blossoms blooming in spring.
She lightly bit her lower lip, her eyes filled with playful reproach, and rained gentle little punches against Mo Juren's chest. "You only know how to coax me with words like these."
Despite her words, she nestled sweetly into Mo Juren's arms like a little bird seeking shelter.
The flickering candlelight stretched their shadows long. They appeared loving and content, yet an indescribable hint of something eerie lingered about them.
A faint smile rose to Mo Juren's lips, but his gaze grew ever more complicated.
The corners of his eyes quietly grew moist. A tear gathered in his eye, then slid down the twisted black markings on his face.
Beneath this tender facade, what filled his heart most was cold resolve.
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