Chapter 15: Slaying the One You Love
Rong Zhao pushed Meng Zhifan away, steadying himself against the stone wall, and slowly stood up. The Rao Zhi Rou, his fluid, shapeshifting weapon, condensed into a long sword in his hand, its cold light gleaming.
"Rong Zhao?"
"The path of ruthlessness requires one to enter ruthlessness with emotion, so I need a Dao companion." Rong Zhao raised the sword and lightly touched its tip to Meng Zifan's chest. The rain outside the cave seemed to have intensified.
Muffled thunder rolled across the horizon, and lightning ripped through the dark clouds.
The autumn rain was cold, penetrating to the bone.
Meng Zhifan stared at the sword pressing against his chest, remaining silent for a moment before looking up and saying, "So, you've been deceiving me for the past two years?"
Rong Zhao remained silent.
"Or," Meng Zhifan easily deflected the sword. He took a step closer to Rong Zhao, pinned him against the stone wall, and pinched his chin, "you've fallen in love, yet you still want to kill me to prove your Dao?"
Rong Zhao felt a sharp pain from the pinch, yet for the first time ever, he endured it without a word. His dark eyes were clear and calm, staring directly at Meng Zhifan without flinching or looking away.
"I want to kill you to prove my Dao," he said.
But these words seemed more like they were spoken to himself.
Neither of them moved, locked in a stalemate, while the rain outside the cave intensified, pouring down.
"Then why haven't you made your move yet?" Meng Zhifan's voice was soft, almost drowned out by the sound of the rain outside the cave, "I'm just a mortal, I have nowhere to run."
Rong Zhao pressed his lips into a thin line.
The two were already very close, and now Meng Zhifan moved even closer. He was trapped between the stone wall and Meng Zhifan, in a narrow and cramped space, making it difficult to breathe. He unconsciously rubbed his index finger on the hilt of the sword, and his gaze darted away.
"Speak," Meng Zhifan pressed. "Say you intend to betray me, say that I deserved to die by your sword, say you have a clear conscience... Don't you dare, Venerable One?"
Rong Zhao rubbed his sword hilt again.
After a long while, he said, "Meng Zhifan, you're the villain."
Meng Zhifan looked at him and suddenly laughed, "Likewise."
It was unclear who started it.
The two kissed fiercely, biting and entwining, as if they wanted to tear each other apart. The Rao Zhi Rou fell to the ground, a messy pile, ignored by both of the.
Their clothes were crumpled beyond recognition. Rong Zhao let out a soft, absent-minded groan, his eyes moist and red, his legs tightly wrapped around Meng Zhifan's waist.
His body was hot, yet the object trusting deep inside him was even hotter.
He could barely suppress his voice, letting out broken moans as he trembled with every jolt of movement. Beads of sweat streamed down his smooth back, where his shoulder blades jutting out, trembling violently.
Normally, Rong Zhao would never allow a mortal to be so presumptuous, but today he said nothing.
Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed intermittently, illuminating the cave for a fleeting moment.
Outside, it was almost pitch black.
The ecstasy of reaching the peak coursed through Rong Zhao's body like an electric shock. He suddenly snapped back to reality, panting as he gazed at the mortal before him. His flushed lips were slightly parted, his damp hair clung to his cheeks, and even his eyelashes were glistening with sweat.
A moment later, he pushed the man away, his voice hoarse and still trembling slightly, not yet fully recovered: "That's enough. Put your clothes back on."
Meng Zhifan's eyes were still moist, filled with the lingering warmth of desire. After a moment of silence, he asked, "What is this?"
"A promise* I made to you before leaving." Rong Zhao fastened his sash and steadied himself against the stone wall as he slowly stood up. He winced slightly as he straightened his back, his movements stiff and unnatural. "A Dao companion must not break their promise."
(*TL note: in case anyone forgot, Rong Zhao promised that he would make love to him when he came back after killing)
"...What exactly am I to you, Rong Zhao?"
"A Dao companion."
"A Dao companion shouldn’t betray one another either, so what is it that you are doing?"
Rong Zhao wiped the sweat from his eyes, just as he was about to speak, his gaze suddenly sharpened.
He sensed unfamiliar spiritual energy approaching the cave.
It was vast and chaotic, probably dozens of people.
In an instant, the Rao Zhi Rou, a supple yet deadly thread, flew over from the corner. It stretched into sharp, thin threads, haphazardly trapping Meng Zhifan inside, unable to move.
Rong Zhao gripped his sword again.
He took a few shallow breaths, the lingering haze in his eyes completely fading, replaced by a cold gaze as he looked at Meng Zhifan.
"If you want to hear it, I'll tell you." Rong Zhao's voice was cold and slightly hoarse, heavy and suffocating like a quilt soaked through by rain, binding one tightly, chilling to the bone. "This Venerable One has lived for so long, seeking only to attain the Dao of Ruthlessness and ascend to the Immortal Capital. Killing you and betraying you, naturally… I have no regrets."
"... Is that truly what you think?" His hands and feet were bound, the sword tip pressed against his heart again, the faint, flickering hope slowly dissipating. Meng Zhifan asked again, "Truly?"
"Truly," Rong Zhao lowered his eyes, his voice softening, "I am sending you into the cycle of reincarnation, So you can be born into a better life next time."
”Pfft," a soft sound, the sound of flesh being pierced.
A flash of lightning ripped through the dark clouds at the cave entrance, reflecting Meng Zhifan's otherworldly beautiful eyes on the gleaming blade of a sword.
Blood trickled from the corner of his lips, his gaze gradually unfocused, yet he seemed oblivious to the pain of the sword piercing his heart, still staring at Rong Zhao, as if trying to memorize that face.
After a moment, he murmured haltingly, "You...you betrayed me today..."
Rong Zhao leaned closer to listen: "What?"
Meng Zhifan fell silent, only staring at the face so close to his.
"Why don't you continue?" Rong Zhao raised his hand to wipe the blood from his lips, rubbing the lingering warmth on his fingertips, "After you enter reincarnation, who will you tell?"
He seemed to really have no remorse, not a trace of regret in his eyes.
Truly heartless and ruthless.
Meng Zhifan finally felt a trace of hatred, burning from the deepest chasm of his heart, forming a sea of fire that burned ever stronger, until his entire heart was reduced to ashes.
He tilted his head, gently pressing his face against Rong Zhao's hand. His vision blurred until he could see nothing, and he was so weak that his words were barely a breathy rasp: "One day... you will surely suffer... a hundredfold the agony, and meet a wretched..."
He suddenly stopped, as if regretting his words, but he didn't have the strength to say anything more.
The corner of Rong Zhao’s lips curled upward.
This was the first time Meng Zhifan had ever seen Rong Zhao smile……and the last
He heard Rong Zhao say, "Go ahead and try."
...
Suddenly, a long, silent darkness fell before his eyes, and then he knew nothing more.
It seemed like a long time had passed, or perhaps only a blink of an eye. He heard a familiar, incessant noise in his ears, terribly noisy.
"He's awake, he's awake! He's back... Fang Jiuhe, look..."
-
Meng Zhifan was dead.
Rong Zhao dispersed his spiritual energy, and the thin threads wrapped back around his fingertips, sticky and stained with blood.
He suddenly felt uncomfortable, his heart aching as if pierced by a thousand needles.
This was Meng Zhifan's blood.
Before he could dwell on it, a clap of thunder exploded, followed by nine more in rapid succession.
The heavenly tribulation of ascension had arrived.
And so had the members of Immortal Alliance.
He abandoned the mortal corpses and left the cave.
Outside, torrential rain washed the world clean, lightning danced wildly like serpents, ferocious and monstrous, tearing through the thick darkness.
The members of the Immortal Alliance stood at the cave entrance, filled with astonishment and uncertainty.
Under such strange phenomena, no one dared to go in first.
Rong Zhao slowly walked out, his hands still stained with blood, and cast a sweeping glance at the crowd.
"Where is the old bastard from Chilong Mountain?"
A deathly silence fell.
Soon, someone took the lead, shouting, "You villain, even on your deathbed you dare to humiliate Venerable Peng! You deserve to die! So many people from Chilong Mountain died unjustly; killing you alone is not enough to vent our anger. Only by grinding your bones to dust can we truly appease them..."
"He's not here." Rong Zhao ignored his nonsense. After confirming that Venerable Peng wasn't there, he was slightly disappointed. Then he whispered to himself, "It's alright, I'll kill them one by one, I'll eventually find him."
Ignored, the man became even more enraged: "You arrogant brat—"
Before he finished speaking, a burst of blood erupted from his forehead, splattering three feet high. He swayed unsteadily like a drunkard for a few moments, then collapsed into the filthy mud with a "thud."
Rong Zhao withdrew his hand.
"Don't be in such a rush." He looked indifferently at the group. "You are all destined to be buried along with him, none of you will escape."
...
... ...
What happened that day later became a taboo subject within the Immortal Alliance.
A black-clad, black-haired cultivator, strode through the rain, a curtain of water illuminated intermittently by ghastly flashed lighting. Dragging nine bolts of tribulation lightning in his wake and wielding a blood stained longsword, he cut down anyone who dared to stand in his path, be they god and Buddha, unleashing a torrent of blood that painted the sky, like a vengeful demon from the dept of hell come to claim souls.
He slaughtered his way from the mountaintop peak to its base, leaving a trail of severed heads and limbs. The earth churned into a bloody pulp of flesh and mud. Even his black clothes were soaked with a filthy rust color, and the bloodstains on his swords hadn't even had time to be washed away by the torrential rain before being stained with fresh blood.
Trees toppled, the earth was upturned, the entire mountain was almost unrecognizable, as if it had been plowed, burying countless people.
No one could withstand the wrath of the Immortal Lord.
That day, all the cultivators who came to attack Cuiyu Mountain, from Venerables down to Nascent Soul cultivators, perished.
Not a single one survived.
Rong Zhao had declared that they would be buried alongside the dead, and no one would live.
Author's Note:
It was the widowed Xiao Rong! Lurking in the shadow... crawling... (wriggling)
TL note:
Finally we reach the part from the summary. The story is just starting!
