Night infiltration of Tianwaitian was something Shang Can was quite accustomed to.
She effortlessly scaled the walls of Tianwaitian and found a secluded spot on a rooftop to crouch down. The security of Tianwaitian was noticeably tighter than the last time she had been there, but it was still not enough to stop her. The front gate was firmly shut, and from her high vantage point, she could see a few scattered lanterns below—probably night patrolling disciples walking their rounds.
It was the hour of the pig (9–11 PM), and the night wind carried a slight chill. Shang Can flexed her fingers, curling them into her palm as if that could slow the fading warmth that had lingered from Yun Duan.
Not good. She was starting to regret leaving, realizing she shouldn’t have let herself be so easily teased by Yun Duan before departing. Now, she couldn’t shake the overwhelming desire to rush back.
But since she was already here, she had to focus on the task at hand. Shang Can calmed her breathing and quietly crouched for a quarter of an hour, pushing away her distracting thoughts before she finally moved, silently gliding across the rooftops of Tianwaitian like a large cat.
Her mission had a purpose, but it wasn’t entirely clear. The behavior of Qinglian-jun during the day had piqued her interest, yet upon reflection, something didn’t sit right with her. Still, she couldn’t quite pinpoint what. So instead of sitting idly and speculating, she decided to take action and investigate—better than doing nothing. She also carried with her a modified dream-inducing incense, given to her by Wanshao, who suggested she use it on Qinglian-jun if the opportunity arose—breaking in, drugging people—she was starting to feel more and more like a common thief.
The demon-repelling barrier of Tianwaitian was ineffective against a half-demon like her, and while the spirit-sealing barrier was still functioning, its impact on Shang Can was minimal. She mused that under these circumstances, if she really wanted to assassinate Qinglian-jun, she’d probably stand a good chance. With such thoughts swirling, she soon arrived at the residence that once belonged to Pei Chen.
Technically, this place should have been Pei Chen’s, not the temporary sect master’s, but after Pei Chen had been imprisoned, it had been given to Qinglian-jun. Officially, the explanation was that the sect master’s first disciple had previously lived in seclusion deep in the mountains, and now, as the acting sect master, it was more convenient for her to reside here. While this rationale seemed reasonable enough, to Shang Can, it felt more like an excuse for giving someone a place to stay out of thin air.
Ironically, the last time she had come here, it was also by sneaking in—though that time, it had been Yun Duan leading the charge. Shang Can recalled how they had sought out Pei Chen to lead them into the Netherworld, and how she had been absurdly jealous at the time. Now, the passage of time made the whole situation feel distant and strange.
The night patrols were mysteriously far away from here, and when Shang Can looked from a distance, she saw only darkness within the courtyard.
Judging by Tianwaitian’s usual routines, the temporary sect master likely retired early. Moving silently, Shang Can dropped into the courtyard and lightly landed on the roof of the main house, pressing her ear to the roof to listen for any movement inside.
But there was nothing—an eerie silence.
Strange. Even a cultivator should still be breathing while they sleep, right?
Shang Can crouched there for as long as it takes to drink a cup of tea, but heard no movement at all. Suspicious, she slipped down, pressed her hand against the door, and felt something that made her pause. Furrowing her brows, she applied a bit more pressure and pushed the door open, slipping inside.
The room was pitch black. Shang Can made her way through it, eventually stopping by the bed. She reached out and brushed her fingers over the headboard, her fingertips gathering a thick layer of dust.
This place had been unoccupied. Judging by the amount of dust, it had likely been empty since Pei Chen’s departure.
This was getting interesting. The temporary sect master of Tianwaitian had never slept in her designated quarters.
With a flick of her fingers, a small flame appeared, burning away the dust on her hand. Shang Can cast a cold gaze around the empty room and let out a reluctant sigh.
It was already this late—was she really going to have to search all of Tianwaitian to find where Qinglian-jun actually lived?
Day and night had blurred together.
Pei Chen sometimes felt as though he had gotten used to this kind of life, and sometimes he felt a sense of bitterness, as if the last time he had seen the sun was only yesterday, only to realize he had been imprisoned in endless night for far too long.
To be fair, Tianwaitian hadn’t completely abandoned him—they still provided him with meals every day. He knew that was the sect’s greatest mercy. After all, he was Tianwaitian’s first acting sect master in recent years to have openly fallen to demonic cultivation, and his actions had surely tarnished the sect’s reputation.
Perhaps he should even be grateful that he had fallen in front of witnesses. Tianwaitian, with its emphasis on reputation, had no choice but to imprison him after he was immediately subdued by Yun Duan. If it had happened in secret, who knows if they might have quietly eliminated him.
In that sense, he owed Yun Duan his thanks.
In his dazed, foggy memories, Pei Chen often thought about many things, mostly about one particular person. But from time to time, Yun Duan crossed his mind as well. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but every time he remembered the last time he saw her, a strange mixture of joy and pain would overwhelm him, pressing heavily on his heart like a suffocating weight.
But what did it matter now? He thought vaguely. It was never meant to be.
Love was dangerous, after all. Whether it was his love or Yun Duan’s, it was never meant to be. It was as if he could see a reflection of himself in Yun Duan that day, when he had fallen to demonic cultivation. He could almost hear a voice whispering in his throat, “See how terrifying love is? How easily it can destroy everything.”
He wondered how Yun Zhong-jun was doing now. The initial guilt he had felt had gradually dulled into a constant, numb pain.
Without warning, the heavy stone door to his prison swung open with a resounding crash. After so long in silence, the sudden noise left Pei Chen’s ears ringing. He hesitated for a moment before looking up, only to see a blaze of fiery gold light in the darkness—burning as bright and intense as the sun.
He had seen entire mountains set ablaze with such fire, had seen the very person standing before him now collapsed in exhaustion on the ground. He had seen her raise a sword to her throat, determined to die, her final words left unspoken to Yun Duan: “I only loved her.”
And now, that very person stood before him once more, tall and straight as ever, her familiar face illuminated by the warm light of the flames. Her gaze met his softly.
“I brought some wine.”
Her tone was casual, but Pei Chen couldn’t stop trembling beneath the familiar sound of her voice. The chains binding him clinked in response to his movements. Shang Can looked up, exhaling slowly, her voice soft, “…Long time no see.”
Finding him had been a coincidence; knocking out the guards and barging in had been on a whim.
Shang Can had witnessed Pei Chen confessing the truth to Yun Duan back in Feiwang. At the time, she had felt powerless, wanting to blame Pei Chen but realizing she herself was more to blame. That self-loathing had consumed her for a long time.
It wasn’t that she had never felt any resentment toward Pei Chen before, but now, standing in front of him once again, she realized she no longer harbored any bitterness toward him.
Given their relationship, this could be called a reunion of old friends. But with so much time having passed, the change in circumstances made it impossible not to feel a sense of melancholy.
The person before her was in such a disheveled state that Shang Can didn’t remain silent for long. She soon crouched down, placing a wine cup she had snuck from the Tianwaitian kitchen in front of him. “When I grabbed it, I realized I didn’t know if you even drank alcohol, but I brought it anyway.”
Pei Chen didn’t respond. He just stared at Shang Can’s face in a daze, so intensely that even Shang Can frowned. In a patient tone, she said, “…I’m not a ghost.”
Technically speaking, she wasn’t exactly human either, but explaining that in detail would be too complicated, so she left it at that. She saw Pei Chen’s shocked expression shift slightly, and after a long pause, he finally opened his mouth for the first time since their reunion, his voice hoarse from disuse. “How…how are you alive?”
Shang Can thought for a moment and replied, “Yun Duan brought me back.”
There was an unmistakable warmth and fondness in her tone when she mentioned her lover’s name, and she noticed Pei Chen’s body tremble violently. He lowered his head abruptly, hiding his expression from her view, but she could still hear his trembling voice, “You two, you…”
Shang Can waited patiently, but Pei Chen stammered and stopped mid-sentence, unable to continue.
Although she could already guess what he wanted to say, since he didn’t ask, Shang Can didn’t press the matter and smoothly changed the topic. “I snuck in here. Just happened to pass by, so I thought I’d stop in and see you.”
The commotion caused by “taking a look” was a bit excessive, but fortunately, Shang Can had already knocked out all the guards in the vicinity, and she had controlled the sound so that it wouldn’t spread. This place was sparsely populated to begin with, so Tianwaitian likely wouldn’t discover her intrusion into the prison for a while. With that in mind, she casually started up a conversation, “There is something I wanted to ask you. Do you happen to know anything about the sect leader’s first disciple, Qinglian-jun?”
Seeing Pei Chen move his head slightly, indicating he was listening, Shang Can went on to explain everything she had found out about his successor—from rumors that she might be in disguise to the fact that she never lived in her official residence. She even mentioned Tianwaitian’s plans to reopen the Daos’ Debate Gathering. After she finished, she turned to Pei Chen and asked, “What do you think?”
“…” It seemed that Pei Chen hadn’t heard someone talk this much in a long time. He remained silent for quite some time, his gaunt face showing hints of contemplation before he slowly spoke, “…At the very least, I’ve heard of the name ‘Qinglian.’ From the sect leader.”
As soon as he said this, Pei Chen’s expression tightened into a frown, as if regretting he had said too much. He quickly hardened his tone, “The Daos’ Debate Gathering… If you’re sneaking into Tianwaitian at night because you think something is suspicious, why come to me? To laugh at me?”
Understanding that long periods of imprisonment could make a person bitter, Shang Can didn’t mind his tone. Instead, she calmly raised her head to glance at the countless chains extending from the stone walls, her eyes flickering slightly.
“Pei Chen,” she called out, standing up and casually grabbing hold of one of the chains. She gripped it tightly and said softly, “How about I let you out?”
Her words were spoken lightly, but Pei Chen’s body immediately tensed, like a bow drawn tight. The chains on his body clattered and shook, only returning to silence after a long moment.
“…” Heavy breathing rasped from his throat, and though the chains around his wrists were taut, his voice, when he finally spoke, was much calmer than his actions, laced with a mocking tone. “…You’re talking about letting me out, but you’re really just using the escape of the demonic cultivator imprisoned by Tianwaitian as bait to draw out the acting sect leader you’re looking for, aren’t you?”
Since she hadn’t intended to hide it from him, Shang Can nodded frankly. “After all, Tianwaitian is a big place. If she really wanted to hide, there’s nothing I could do. I can’t exactly search every inch.”
“So rather than searching blindly, why not come up with a way to make her show herself?” She looked at Pei Chen thoughtfully. “Causing a bit of chaos in Tianwaitian seems like a good idea to me. The acting sect leader would have to step in, don’t you think?”
“Killing a few people under the cover of night might have the same effect,” Shang Can said, her tone calm and innocent, as if weighing the pros and cons of a business decision. “But there’s no need for that. The former acting sect leader escaping after years of imprisonment would be far more damaging to Tianwaitian’s reputation—probably more significant than a few deaths.”
Her frankness left Pei Chen in silent contemplation. Shang Can didn’t press him, instead idly stroking the chain in her hand as she concluded, “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, wouldn’t you say?”
Pei Chen stayed silent for a long time, so long that Shang Can started to worry about the time. Finally, he spoke in a hoarse voice, “…I wanted to kill you back then. Aren’t you afraid that I still…”
Shang Can raised an eyebrow and asked bluntly, “Do you still want to kill me?”
Seemingly taken aback by her directness, Pei Chen looked stunned. He opened his mouth but no words came out. Shang Can smiled, her tone gentle, “You can’t beat me anyway.”
“Even back then, you only caught me at my lowest point.” Shang Can shook her head. “I know it might sound arrogant, but I’m really not worried. Not in any way.”
Her casual words seemed to sting Pei Chen, and he raised his head again, his voice cold. “How can you be so sure…that I…”
“Pei Chen.” She interrupted him before he could finish, her expression turning slightly serious. “Setting aside all the trivial things that happened back then, I’m actually quite grateful to you.”
“At least, when Duan’er was searching for me all alone, you helped her when she wanted to go to the Netherworld. You gave her a companion.”
“For that reason alone, I feel I owe you thanks.”
As she spoke, she lowered her head slightly, her expression solemn, and said softly, “As for the rest… let the past be the past, Pei Chen.”
“The past is the past.”
Shang Can repeated the words slowly, deliberately, and then fell silent. The stone chamber grew so quiet that it seemed time itself had frozen. After a long pause, all the chains suddenly shook in unison, then fell to the ground one by one with a metallic clatter.
Freed from the shackles of years of imprisonment, Pei Chen tentatively stood up. He stumbled slightly as he took his first steps but quickly steadied himself. From beside him, Shang Can’s voice came lazily, as though in casual conversation, “The wine I brought hasn’t been touched yet. Why not take it with you?”
Pei Chen had been about to tell her that he didn’t drink, but something compelled him to turn around and take the wine cup. For the first time that night, he responded to Shang Can in a calm voice, “Aren’t you going to drink?”
“No,” Shang Can smiled, her clear eyes curving slightly. “Someone’s waiting for me to come back.”
“…”
The brightness of her smile was almost blinding, and Pei Chen thought that under normal circumstances, it would have been irritating, even detestable. But now, for some reason, he found himself smiling too. His shoulders shook with laughter, and he bent over, filled with an indescribable emptiness. He didn’t even know what he was laughing at.
Back then, during those times when he and Yun Duan had secretly journeyed to the Netherworld, Yun Duan never said it out loud, but Pei Chen could feel it—Yun Duan had been somewhat envious of him. At least he had known where to find the person he wanted to see.
He had thought they were alike. Both of them were chasing after someone, knowing full well that they might never catch up and stand beside that person, yet unable to stop themselves from pursuing the impossible.
But it wasn’t the same. They weren’t the same.
What was different? Why were they different?
Pei Chen slowly stopped laughing and covered his eyes. He spoke in a quiet voice, tinged with a trace of melancholy.
“I wish the two of you… never to be separated again.”
After that day, no one in the cultivation world ever saw Kunyao-jun again.
Comment