Chapter 44 – Only One Person in the Dream
The old man paused, thinking he had misheard.
He subconsciously looked at Shi Wuluo.
The altar was surrounded by very tall, ancient trees, with parasitic ferns whose leaves were as broad as cattail fans climbing their trunks. The sunlight cast the ferns’ shadows before Shi Wuluo, who sat in the dim shade. His silver-gray eyes were very still, like a blade laid in a lightless corner after being drawn from its sheath. The old man realized he was indeed asking very seriously.
If the young brats in the clan saw this scene, they probably wouldn’t be so afraid of their Head Shaman anymore, would they?
There was something that would shock the Twelve Continents if it got out:
—The leader of the Southern Borderlands Witch Clan, Shi Wuluo, was not actually a member of the Witch Clan.
A thousand years ago, the Witch Clan had faced a desperate situation.
The ten Great Shamans were severely injured, half of the clan’s warriors had died in a treacherous plot, and the other half had retreated with their people deep into the dense forest, like cattle and sheep driven to the edge of a cliff. They had stumbled into a dark, ancient forest they had never set foot in before and saw an altar of basalt they had never seen before. On the altar rested a stone coffin.
The horror and fear of that moment surpassed anything people could comprehend.
Even the most defiant warriors could not remain standing. They were awestruck, involuntarily kneeling before the altar. Strange birds screeched as the enemy arrived. The sound of arrows being fired came from the sky—golden longbows. The vine armor of the Witch Clan, enchanted with secret arts, was as fragile as a leaf before them.
Arrows fell like a sudden storm, covering all directions.
It was then that the stone coffin opened.
The sky full of arrows turned to dust. What awoke from the coffin was a man in black, wearing a deep black and gold-lacquered mask and carrying a long, scarlet saber. He descended from the high altar, walked past the prostrate Witch Clan people, and went straight toward the encirclement. He drew his saber, and countless blossoms of blood exploded in mid-air simultaneously.
He turned back, removed his mask, revealing a young face and a pair of cold, silver-gray eyes.
The young man asked the ten Great Shamans a question.
Later, the Great Shamans believed it was that question that made the young man stay and save the entire Witch Clan. Under his leadership, the Witch Clan reclaimed the Southern Borderlands. At that time, the Witch Clan bestowed the surname “Wu” upon the Great Shamans, such as Wuxian, Wu Fen, Wu Peng… But the young man’s kindness to the Witch Clan was as heavy as a mountain, and they felt that a mere “Wu” could not express their gratitude to him. So they offered him the respectful title “Shi Wu,” meaning he was the leader above the ten Great Shamans.
But in fact, his real name was just a single, simple word:
Luo.
But, how should one put it?
Although Shi Wuluo had saved the Witch Clan, there was always an unbreakable layer of ice between him and everyone else.
He rarely spoke to people, and most of his time in the Witch Clan was spent sitting alone in silence. Yet, it wasn’t like he was daydreaming or admiring the scenery. He looked at the spring flowers, the summer water, the autumn fruits, the winter snow, but he was only looking. The world was colorful, but it could not be reflected in those silver-gray eyes.
The old man guarding the altar was named Wu Luo, and he had the most and longest contact with him.
A thousand years.
Wu Luo had always felt that he had no joy, no anger, no sorrow, not a trace of life in him. He was just a cold shell, not a “person.” No wonder the little rascals in the clan, who usually looked down on heaven and earth, would immediately shrink their heads and act as timid as partridges whenever they met him.
It wasn’t until this person returned from Fu City in Qing Province that he finally “came alive.”
“I’m treating someone to a drink in return. Which one should I choose?”
Perhaps because he had been lost in thought for too long, Shi Wuluo thought he hadn’t heard clearly and asked again.
Old man Wu Luo put the pipe back in his mouth, smacked his lips, and felt that he was right. Although it was faint, there was indeed a bit of “humanity” about Shi Wuluo now. Facing Shi Wuluo, who sat straight in front of him, Wu Luo suddenly felt that his responsibility was particularly great.
—This question can’t be answered casually!
After some deliberation, Wu Luo spoke cautiously, “Since it’s a return treat, you should definitely consider what kind of wine the other person treated you to last time, and guess what kind of wine he would like.”
Actually, Wu Luo’s first reaction was Wu Cheng Brew.
That stuff was the most popular strong liquor among the young people in the clan. The Southern Borderlands were damp and humid, and the primeval forest was full of dangers. Living here was like tying your head to your belt, so the Witch Clan had always been fierce and uninhibited. There were no particular rules about matters between men and women. If you liked someone, you invited them for a drink. The first drink was normal, but if the person invited also took a fancy to you, they would have to pick the twin flowers from the ebony tree to brew Wu Cheng wine as a return treat.
The Wu Cheng wine brewed from these twin flowers was even more potent than an aphrodisiac. A single jar of this wine would basically make you as happy as an immortal…
However, suggesting this stuff to that person now would be so disrespectful that he’d have to hang his corpse from a high branch in apology. In fact, he wouldn’t even have to hang himself; Shi Wuluo would probably just kill him on the spot.
“Jian wine, it’s a strong liquor,” Shi Wuluo said, looking down at the jars of wine laid out. “But he drinks any kind of wine.”
If he drinks any kind of wine, then it’s hard to know which one he would like best.
Wu Luo looked at the neatly arranged jars of wine and thought to himself, no wonder he collected so many. It turned out that because he didn’t know which one he would like best, he simply collected the fine wines from wherever he went: the Second Return Dragon Wine of the North Ge Clan, the Xun Wine of Jiangzuo, the Yuquan Brew of Yuzhou, the Cloud Dream Wine of the East… from east to west, from north to south, it covered everything.
For a thousand years, this person, besides his rampant killing, had been silently searching for a wine that another person might like.
But for so many years, none of them knew if that person could ever return.
“Hmm…” Old man Wu Luo scratched his head. “Well, drinking wine also depends on the environment. The wine you drink while fishing in the middle of a lake is definitely different from the wine you drink while riding the wind and waves. In light snow, you should drink a wine that reminds you of a hearth fire. In the icy wind on a high ridge, you should drink a wine that makes you see the scorching sun. In the scorching sun and vast clear sky, you should drink a wine that reminds you of a clear spring and a lone pine… and then you have to see… uh…”
Wu Luo got stuck again.
He wanted to say that it also depended on whether they had progressed to the stage of kissing or holding hands, but that was too crude. It was fine for the Witch Clan people, but it wasn’t appropriate to say in front of Shi Wuluo…
Wu Luo felt that it was a good thing the Head Shaman was asking him and not one of the others. At least he had read some of what other places called “classics and poetry.” Racking his brains, he could still squeeze out something literary and presentable.
If it were anyone else, they would definitely be dumbfounded, thinking, just for a drink, there are so many damn rules?
“As for which specific wine to treat him to in return, that’s for you to choose, my lord,” Wu Luo said softly. “Think about where you want to treat him to a drink, and what kind of wine you think he would like… what others say is not accurate, your own feeling is what’s accurate.”
There was another sentence he didn’t say.
Actually, any choice of wine is correct, as long as the other person is also interested in you.
And vice versa, if the other person has no feelings for you at all, then any choice is wrong.
Shi Wuluo nodded silently, looking at the rows of wine jars, lost in thought.
Tap, tap, tap.
An old man with a beard that reached the ground and a back as hunched as a mountain peak walked up to the altar, leaning on a cane.
Wu Luo greeted him, “Hey, old ghost Xian, hasn’t your granddaughter pulled out all your beard yet?”
Wu Xian glared at him fiercely, then respectfully bowed to Shi Wuluo, “My lord, the medicine has been prepared.”
Shi Wuluo nodded, put away the wine, and walked down the altar alone.
“Tsk.”
Watching Shi Wuluo’s figure disappear among the ancient trees, Wu Luo smacked his pipe and shook his head.
“It’s really not easy to get him to treat his injuries voluntarily.”
“What did you say to him?” Wu Xian took out a pipe from his sleeve and started smoking too. “It was that effective?”
In the past, whenever Shi Wuluo left the Southern Borderlands and returned, he never paid any attention to his injuries, whether they were light or severe. Although the injuries would heal over time due to his high cultivation, it wasn’t a good thing to let it continue like this. However, the clan’s attempts to persuade him were useless, and as for forcing him to get treatment… setting aside whether they dared to, no one could beat him in a fight, so they could only stare helplessly.
The most infuriated by this was Wu Xian.
He was the most skilled in medicine in the clan.
After the last altar ceremony, Shi Wuluo, for the first time ever, was willing to have his injuries treated. Wu Xian immediately brewed a large pot of herbal medicine, determined to take this opportunity to resolve all of the Head Shaman’s old and new ailments. But before the medicine was even ready, Shi Wuluo, without a word of explanation, returned to the altar and forcibly activated the secret art again.
And it was even more exaggerated than last time.
Last time, it was just his spiritual sense that went. This time, he suppressed his injuries and sent a part of his soul over.
What were originally just serious injuries became something akin to having one foot in the grave by the time the secret art ended and his soul returned. Wu Xian was so angry he almost fainted and frantically started brewing a new batch of medicine… Fearing he would leave halfway through again, Wu Xian personally came to urge him as soon as the medicine was ready.
Fortunately, this time Shi Wuluo didn’t leave in a hurry but actually went over.
“What use is what I said?” Wu Luo sneered, tapping his pipe on the stone, knocking out some sparks. “It’s that person who wants him to live well.”
“I thought so too.” Wu Xian stroked his beard. “…So what was the Head Shaman doing with all that wine just now?”
Wu Luo casually recounted what had just happened.
Wu Xian slapped his thigh, “He asked you what wine to treat someone with?”
“Isn’t that great,” Wu Luo said. “At least he’s starting to act like a living person. Why are you so surprised?”
“No, no,” Wu Xian waved his hand. “I mean, he actually asked you.”
Wu Luo frowned, “Old ghost Xian, what do you mean?”
“A guy like you who’s been a bachelor his whole life, what the hell do you know,” Wu Xian’s face was almost contorted. “Damn it, if he actually believes your stupid advice, it’ll be a disaster! You should go hang yourself from a tree branch in apology!!”
Wu Luo was furious.
“Nonsense! Back in the day, I was the most popular one in the clan! Back then, not even a sow would bother with you.”
“My granddaughter is already married, and you’re still an old bachelor.”
“Bastard, that’s because I’m devoted.”
Wu Xian sneered, “Bachelor.”
“…”
Wu Luo was at a loss for words.
***
Shi Wuluo submerged himself in the medicinal pool.
He crossed his hands and quietly looked up at the stalactites on the ceiling of the pool. Clear, cold water dripped from the tips of the inverted stone spires, landing on the water’s surface with a crisp drip-drop sound, as if counting time.
Drip-drop.
Drip-drop.
In the depths of Shi Wuluo’s heart, there had always been a water clock. The water inside was constantly dripping down, making a clear sound.
When he was alone, he wasn’t actually looking at anything.
He was just counting the steps of time.
Day after day, accumulating into a month. Month after month, accumulating into a year.
Year after year, without end.
Before, the water in that hourglass dripped so slowly, each drop seemed to travel a very long distance. But after a certain day, at certain times, it suddenly dripped so fast, so fast that it made one feel helpless.
Like in Ru City.
The result of forcibly activating the secret art was the Ruomu Spirit Puppet shattering inch by inch.
He couldn’t help but grip Chou Bodeng’s hand tightly. Even though he knew they could meet again later, he still felt reluctant to let go… When he saw that person, the dripping of the water clock became so fast it was frightening, making him want to freeze it, to make time stop and flow no more.
Every moment felt like a stolen dream.
The slightly hot medicinal water rolled over his wounds, the subtle pain making him drowsy.
Shi Wuluo closed his eyes, letting his consciousness gradually sink into darkness.
There was a time when entering a dream was his greatest fear.
Once he sank into a dream, he would see that scarlet figure falling from the sky. Again and again, he tried with all his might to reach out, but he could only watch helplessly, unable to do anything. But he also longed to dream so much, because only in a dream could he see that person.
“I will catch you.”
Before completely sinking into darkness, Shi Wuluo said softly.
To himself, and to another person.
***
Chou Bodeng rested his chin on his arm, his free hand tapping the table lazily with a folded fan.
Lu Jing found it noisy and protested several times, but Chou Bodeng pretended not to hear. He hated dead silence. When he was alone and not asleep, he had to make some kind of noise. In his last life, under the rule of gold and friendship, the great Young Master Chou had no friends, but even so, when he commanded his lackeys, he had to command them into a clamor.
He needed to be surrounded, to be in a lively crowd.
What else did he want?
Chou Bodeng turned his head and stared silently at the flowing clouds outside the flying boat.
After the Ruomu Spirit Puppet shattered, his sleeve suddenly felt empty, so empty it was unsettling.
It was strange. He had only started carrying that little wooden puppet in his sleeve a few days ago. Logically, it was far from enough time to form a habit.
The color of the flowing clouds gradually turned a rosy red.
Chou Bodeng’s fingers paused for a moment. He remembered the day of the sunrise in Ru City… The golden sun hung high, the curtain of rain was continuous, and the Ru Fish swam gently around them. The fingers of that person holding his were trembling slightly. At first, he thought the person was nervous, but later he realized that wasn’t right.
He wasn’t nervous.
He was nonchalantly enduring pain.
What kind of pain would make someone like Shi Wuluo unable to control the trembling of his fingertips? And why didn’t he leave Ru City even when he was in such pain? Was he stupid?
Utterly foolish.
“Go back to your Southern Borderlands.”
He had pulled his hand away from the one holding his, turned around on his own, and walked toward the city gate, treading through the pooled water.
“Remember, you owe me a drink.”
“Alright.”
The reply from behind him was very soft.
At that time, Chou Bodeng had a slight urge to look back, but in fact, he didn’t. What would it have looked like? When the secret art was dispelled, all the illusory appearances would either fade like ink in water or shatter into billions of points of light… Whichever it was, he hated it.
He hated partings.
So he never saw anyone off.
If he didn’t witness it with his own eyes, it wasn’t a real farewell.
“I’m going to Qiwu.”
He had said that one last thing, but… would a certain someone really understand what he meant?
Chou Bodeng was a little unsure.
“Hey? The sunset clouds are so beautiful,” Lu Jing said with admiration, following Chou Bodeng’s gaze.
“Sunset clouds?” Zuo Yuesheng, who was lying on his side, keenly caught something, sprang up, and looked out the window. He immediately shouted excitedly, “We’re here, we’re here! We’ve reached Qiwu Mountain! Damn! Our luck is so good, our timing is perfect!”
As he spoke, the Heavenly Snow Boat began to descend slowly, and the sky changed rapidly, like molten lava pouring out. Red and gold pigments collided and blended, turning the firmament into the most magnificent canvas. This was followed by a scorching wind and waves of crashing tides, one after another. Even inside the flying boat, they could feel the fierce heat of the wind and the vastness of the tide.
Zuo Yuesheng shouted excitedly, jumping up and down and waving his arms:
“Quick, quick! Everyone get ready!”
“We’ll be able to see the Golden Crow carrying the sun soon!”
“The Golden Crow is almost here!”