Pei Chen’s face twisted into sudden fury at something Shang Can had said, and he bellowed, “How dare you mention Yun Zhonjun!”
Shang Can tilted her head in confusion and asked in a gentle tone, “Why can’t I mention him?”
“You deceived her!” Pei Chen, no longer the calm and composed man of the past, roared angrily, “You’re a demon, not even human! You deceived her!”
“…”
Caught off guard by his blunt words hitting her sore spot, Shang Can froze, lowering her gaze slightly without responding.
“All that nonsense about giving her your life…” Seeing her reaction, Pei Chen grew even more agitated and shouted, “A demon clan member… She searched for you for so many years, do you really think she was searching for a demon?”
There was an intense, inexplicable emotion in his words. Shang Can couldn’t quite grasp his feelings, but she couldn’t help but lower her eyes in response.
She wanted to say that she wasn’t talking nonsense, that she had truly given her life to Yun Zhongjun, but quickly dismissed the childish thought. What would be the point of telling Pei Chen these things? Such vague, ethereal matters would seem hollow when spoken aloud, nowhere near as tangible as the weight of Yun Zhongjun’s decade-long search for her.
Regardless of how unpleasant Pei Chen’s words were, it was clear that he seemed to be speaking up for Yun Zhongjun. That alone was enough for Shang Can to refrain from arguing with him. Instead, she asked lightly, “Is this why you came here? Just to tell me these things?”
Clearly enraged by her indifferent attitude, Pei Chen gave an angry, mocking laugh and coldly asked, “…Recently, Qin Yi, the former sect leader who has been missing for many years, suddenly visited me in the dead of night and told me many inexplicable things. I didn’t believe it at first, but a few days later, I inexplicably received a message from the ghost clan… saying that you are half-demon. And now I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“What a joke. Now I finally understand why Nan Shuang acted against you in the ghost realm.”
He curled his lips into an ugly smile. “Shang Can, back then… it was you who killed Nan Shuang, wasn’t it?”
Shang Can knew that Qin Yi had certainly left out most of the truth, but when she raised her eyes and glanced at Pei Chen’s face, she could tell immediately that he wasn’t waiting for an explanation.
Lowering her gaze, she nodded without hesitation, “Yes, it was me.”
“…”
Pei Chen was silent for a long time before suddenly laughing harshly. His laughter was strange and eventually started sounding more like sobs.
“You killed her, you killed her…” he muttered to himself, as if talking to no one in particular, “She was so good, we were so close… We should have, should have been together forever…”
Shang Can didn’t respond, remaining silent as Pei Chen’s shoulders shook slightly. Then he suddenly glared at her with murderous intent in his eyes, his voice hoarse as he said, “…If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t have become a member of the ghost clan, wouldn’t have, wouldn’t have…”
He didn’t continue, but Shang Can could hear the intense resentment and weak cowardice in his tone. She let out a silent sigh and looked at the man consumed by hatred and anger, silently finishing his unspoken words in her heart.
—Wouldn’t have treated me like that.
To be fair, Shang Can didn’t actually dislike Pei Chen. Though she had once harbored complaints about him when he had rashly proposed to Yun Zhongjun to become Dao companions during their youth, after seeing him again in Tianwaitian, Pei Chen hadn’t given her much trouble and had even helped her on occasion. Later, she had learned that Pei Chen had shared Yun Zhongjun’s suffering all these years, and that he hadn’t been doing well—he had just been rejected by Nan Shuang but had still offered his blessing for her and Yun Zhongjun’s reunion.
At the time, he had said, “I wish you two never part again.”
Shang Can believed that at least then, Pei Chen had sincerely wished them well.
So now, Shang Can couldn’t bring herself to blame the changed Pei Chen. She knew that people always hit rock bottom and would try to find a reason to explain the unbearable reality. It was natural, and at this moment, she was clearly the perfect reason Pei Chen had found. His hostility toward her was, in a way, understandable.
Shang Can thought that Pei Chen likely knew deep down that his reasoning didn’t hold water. He just wanted to believe it. And that was fine. After all, Shang Can thought, she was indeed at fault. She had hidden the truth, even if Nan Shuang had instructed her to remain silent. She had no intention of telling Pei Chen the whole story—he probably wouldn’t listen anyway, and saying anything would just be a waste of breath.
Her eyes flicked upward, and she was about to say something else when her gaze fell on the whisk tightly held in Pei Chen’s hand. Surprised, she said, “Shuang Jiangjun’s whisk… So it’s been with you all this time? No wonder there was no news of it.”
Pei Chen’s grip on the whisk tightened as he defensively held it up to his chest. “…What news? Why are you asking about her weapon?”
Shang Can didn’t bother hiding anything and said, “I made a promise to someone to destroy it.”
She saw Pei Chen instantly panic, even taking two steps back. He subconsciously tightened his grip on the whisk, his voice trembling as he said, “…You, you won’t! This is hers… she left it to me…”
His pitiful and cowering demeanor made even Shang Can avert her gaze in sympathy.
She wasn’t sure whether she should tell Pei Chen some painfully obvious truths—like how the whisk had merely been left behind by Nan Shuang and not specifically given to him, or how the flower demon who had requested its destruction had a delicate relationship with Nan Shuang, or that Nan Shuang most likely never loved him at all.
But that would be too cruel, and it wasn’t her place to say it, Shang Can thought. Since the passage to the ghost realm had been opened, Pei Chen would likely see Nan Shuang and Yuan Ge again soon.
She could already imagine it wouldn’t be a pleasant reunion, but Shang Can had no intention of being a thankless mediator, trying to awaken the deluded Pei Chen to reality. She simply didn’t have the energy or the mood for it anymore.
“Don’t worry, I’m not planning to take it by force, nor could I even if I wanted to,” Shang Can said calmly. “I’ll probably be dead soon anyway.”
Pei Chen froze, suddenly noticing that Shang Can had been sitting by the rock the entire time, without standing up. At first, he had taken this as a sign of her disdain for him, but after hearing her nonchalant words, he realized something else.
“If you hadn’t chased after me, even if you had just waited a little longer, it would’ve been fine.”
As if discussing something trivial, Shang Can suddenly felt a chill and sighed softly, “I went through so much trouble to sneak away and find such a secluded spot.”
Her tone was so calm that Pei Chen quickly dismissed her words as a lie and sneered, “Are you trying to lower my guard? If you hadn’t made such a scene earlier, maybe I would’ve believed you.”
“What’s wrong with making a bit of a scene?” Shang Can wasn’t bothered by his sarcastic tone and even laughed lightly. “It’s the last time, after all.”
As she spoke, she looked at Pei Chen, her clear eyes devoid of emotion, and said, “Since you saw everything clearly when I acted earlier, why even bring up the idea of lowering your guard—do you really think that’s necessary?”
Her gaze was indifferent, as if she were stating the most obvious fact. Pei Chen’s throat tightened, and a surge of frustration rose inside him, feeling as if he was being looked down upon. His emotions, already teetering on the edge of reason, pushed him to act without thinking. He flicked his wrist, summoning several talismans that shot through the air towards Shang Can.
This time, he only used a third of his strength, testing her. Pei Chen watched Shang Can intently, and as expected, the talismans were blocked by a sudden wall of flame. With a brief hiss, the flames reduced the talismans to ash.
She’s definitely lying. These demons never tell the truth. Pei Chen was now convinced and became even more cautious. The flames slowly dissipated, revealing Shang Can’s calm face. She hadn’t even raised an eyebrow.
It had been over a month since Pei Chen last saw her, and now, for the first time, he was able to take a closer look. Shang Can seemed even paler than before, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Despite her striking golden-red eyes, her whole figure appeared frail, almost transparent, in the bright sunlight, with an unhealthy pallor.
In that quiet paleness, the fresh red blood silently flowing down her face stood out starkly.
Noticing Pei Chen’s startled gaze, Shang Can blinked slowly, raised her hand to touch the blood on her cheek, paused briefly, then moved her fingers upward to find a sharp wound beneath her eye.
She froze for a moment before lowering her hand, silently staring at the fresh blood on her fingertips.
Seeing her reaction, Pei Chen suddenly realized that Shang Can hadn’t fully blocked his talismans.
The mighty, god-like Shang Can from moments earlier now seemed to be weakening at an alarming rate. Pei Chen didn’t know if this was part of her scheme, but cautiously decided to observe a little longer before making another move. He gripped the whisk in his hand tightly, as if seeking encouragement from the memories of someone long gone. Yet no matter how hard he scrutinized Shang Can, she remained oblivious, sitting there without even glancing at the person who sought her life.
Pei Chen saw Shang Can’s eyes blankly staring into space for a long while before she finally moved slowly. He became wary again, but then realized she was only absentmindedly placing a hand over her chest. A faint smile suddenly appeared on her face.
“…She seems to have woken up.”
When Chu Ming arrived, the battle had already ended long ago.
He focused his senses and overheard the frightened whispers of the lingering cultivators in the forest, talking about Shang Can. He clenched and unclenched his fists, then resigned himself to follow the instructions she had left through a voice transmission. He found the tree, and followed the trail of ash to a hidden cave. There had once been an incredibly intricate barrier protecting the entrance to the cave, one that Chu Ming would’ve been helpless against. But the paper crane in his pocket suddenly reanimated, flying out on its own. As it touched the barrier, there was a flash of white light, and the barrier disappeared along with the crane.
Chu Ming didn’t even have the energy to curse Shang Can anymore. He simply numbly walked forward. He had expected a dark and cold cave but was surprised to find it unexpectedly dry, warm, and even faintly lit. He gazed dumbfounded at the few well-tended fires inside, and upon realizing whose handiwork it was, a sharp pain struck his heart.
Half of the mountain had been collapsed by some individual’s recklessness, and yet this half was completely untouched. Chu Ming knew he was probably the only one among the cultivators who understood why Shang Can had acted the way she did. But he couldn’t comprehend why, with her self-serving intentions so painfully obvious, she still chose to do things that contradicted them.
He didn’t understand, and so he cursed her in frustration. At least his junior sister, Yun Duan, would always know what to do. She would surely teach Shang Can a lesson when the time came.
Thinking this, Chu Ming quickened his pace, and when he finally reached the deepest part of the cave, he looked up and saw a figure dressed in white sitting on a rough stone bed. To his surprise, the person was already awake. Her back was to him, the figure thin and cold, with long black hair cascading down her waist. It was Yun Duan.
Chu Ming’s heart settled slightly, and he called out, “Junior sister Yun Duan.”
For some unknown reason, his call echoed hollowly to the ground without eliciting a response. Yun Duan sat quietly, seemingly unaware of his entrance, remaining still until Chu Ming walked up behind her without making any movement.
Chu Ming’s heart sank again; for some reason, he didn’t dare to approach Yun Duan rashly. He slowly moved closer and quickly noticed that she was tensing her shoulders, her breathing faintly trembling and frantic. Uncertain of what had happened, he hurriedly stepped in front of her, only to see that she still didn’t look up, merely lowering her head to stare blankly at her wrist.
Following Yun Duan’s gaze, he saw only the fading remnants of the heavenly fire bracelet, the bright flame vanishing into silence in an instant, leaving only wisps of blue smoke that quickly dissipated in the air.
Yun Duan’s mind felt empty, and she began to tremble uncontrollably. She anxiously lifted her head to look around, but all she could see were clusters of flames quietly dimming and then extinguishing. She stood up, stumbling as she rushed forward, yet all she could do was watch helplessly as the flames dissipated before her.
The bright sunlight outside the cave didn’t penetrate within; without the heavenly fire, the cave quickly fell into darkness, the thick blackness wrapping around Yun Duan. She felt a bone-chilling cold seep into her, and before she could comprehend what had happened, her body responded instinctively, as if some vague pain and chill were slowly creeping up from her soles, engulfing her calves and then spreading throughout her body.
Yun Duan clutched her chest as if struck, trembling as a tear fell.
Dozens of miles away, Shang Can, feeling the same way, pressed her hand tightly against her chest, her neat white robe wrinkled and stained with fresh blood that had not yet dried on her fingertips. But she couldn’t dispel the sharp pain that was rooted in her bones.
The last vestiges of heavenly fire flickered away between her fingers. Shang Can took a deep breath but still felt a sense of suffocation akin to being deprived of oxygen; she guessed that this was the feeling of life slipping away—clear and inescapable.
Without thinking too much, she glanced at Pei Chen, who was frozen in place, clearly struggling to keep up with the sudden turn of events, hesitating over something. Shang Can closed her eyes briefly and softly said, “…Can you tell her I’m rampaging in my demon form and have gone missing?”
Pei Chen paused for a moment before realizing, stammering, “Wh-what?”
Her lower body was becoming increasingly numb, making movement difficult. Shang Can pressed her lips tightly together and, while her hands still had feeling, she struggled to reach for the handle of the Feiwang Sword and drew it out forcefully.
Pei Chen instinctively took a step back in alarm, but he saw that Shang Can merely held the sword silently against her neck. The sword’s chilling aura sliced through her pale skin with just a touch, blood beginning to flow down slowly.
“It’s not really a thank-you,” she said calmly, her tone as steady as ever despite the bizarre act she was committing. “I’m giving myself a quick end, and also avenging you.”
Pei Chen took a long moment to grasp the meaning behind Shang Can’s words. Though she didn’t explicitly say it, the “her” she mentioned could only refer to Yun Duan. He was awestruck by the actions of this demon and found it hard to believe, which diminished some of his hatred.
However, he didn’t believe that a demon known for its lies could possess any good intentions. He licked his cracked lips, stuttering, “Wh-what’s your goal? What do you mean by missing… Do you just want her to remember you forever? You’re dying, yet you won’t let Yun Zhongjun go—”
“…”
Shang Can didn’t respond. She initially wanted to say that it would be better if Yun Duan could forget her, but considering that when Yun Duan only took half of her life, even their master couldn’t eliminate her memories, it seemed unlikely to achieve that now that she was giving all of herself to Yun Duan. However, that explanation was too lengthy, and she lacked the energy to elaborate, so she just smiled faintly.
After all, Pei Chen wasn’t entirely wrong; she did want Yun Duan to forget her, yet she also wanted Yun Duan to remember her.
Perhaps people are always especially honest before death. Shang Can faced her ambiguous feelings candidly. She thought that perhaps her worry that Yun Duan would react violently upon learning of her death was merely her own excessive self-awareness, a way to rationalize her desire for Yun Duan to remember her selfishly.
At this point, Shang Can’s plan to leave without anyone knowing had been disrupted by Pei Chen. She didn’t know what reason he had to help her tell this lie, and she reflected on how she had come this far only to be in such a predicament. Even with the sword pressed against her neck, Shang Can couldn’t help but laugh. Her throat quivered lowly, and soon after, she added another wound, bringing a bit of sharp pain.
Shang Can didn’t like pain at all; she was actually quite delicate. She was like this back at Qingyu as well, crying out over minor injuries, yet when she truly got hurt, she wouldn’t say a word. Even when her lips turned pale from the pain, she would still smile brightly and lean against Yun Duan’s shoulder, reassuringly saying, “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
No.
Shang Can closed her eyes. She couldn’t think of Yun Duan at a time like this.
That would remind her of many unnecessary things, like her fear of pain and her fear of death.
In this world, who truly wishes to approach death? Who can embrace bloody pain without any hesitation? As she walked this path, Shang Can couldn’t discern right from wrong; it was simply that compared to her desire to live, she wished more for Yun Duan to live a safe and peaceful life.
As her consciousness began to blur, Shang Can knew she couldn’t delay any longer. In her gradually whitening vision, she could barely make out Pei Chen’s figure, catching a glimpse of the two emotionless characters on the sword hilt she held—Feiwang.
She felt a twinge of guilt; if she had other options, she wouldn’t want to use Feiwang for self-harm. After all, this was Yun Duan’s sword. Who would have thought that in such a moment, it would be Feiwang tasked with this job, as if a celestial force was subtly reminding her: you perish because of your heart’s desire for Feiwang.
Amused by her own imagination, Shang Can felt her rebellious spirit stirring again. Back in the day, she had complained about the name Feiwang not sounding nice, she thought, but upon reflection, her own sword’s name wasn’t any better.
What did “worry-free” even mean? She couldn’t bear the weight of those two words; perhaps it was her fault.
In a daze, Shang Can blinked and recalled a few lines.
From love comes sorrow; from love comes fear.
To be free of love is to be free of worry and fear.
Suddenly, Pei Chen saw Shang Can, who had fallen into silence like she was in meditation, move slightly. It looked as though she struggled to shift the corners of her lips before softly saying something.
He paused, instinctively wanting to confirm what he had heard from Shang Can, but just as he stepped forward, he saw her calmly and resolutely grip the sword hilt and push it inward.
Pei Chen didn’t know when he had held his breath, standing frozen in place. It was eerily quiet around them, only the howling wind swirling at the mountaintop, sounding like a weeping tune. Pei Chen felt his mind empty, yet it echoed loudly the words he had just heard. Shang Can’s voice was so soft that he could hardly believe it wasn’t just his imagination, but he did indeed see the tenderness rising in Shang Can’s clear brows and eyes. It seemed he truly heard her gentle voice:
“I have no intention.”
“I just love her.”
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