Chapter 40 – A Bond We Do Not Name
Morning in the sect always came gently. Pale mists curled like sleep still clinging to the bones of the mountain. The tiles were slick with dew, the air cool and silent, as though even the birds dared not disturb the stillness.
Chen Xinyu came down from the north cliffs, sweat-drenched, breath shallow, the spiritual sword Heavens bound tightly to his back. He had trained until his fingers were raw, until the sun had risen and the cold had seeped into his limbs. Only then had he stopped, as if punishing himself could erase memory.
"Xinyu," Lan Xueyao's voice called from the stone path, clear and a little too cheerful for the hour. She approached, arms folded into her sleeves. "Your shizun is asking for you."
Xinyu stiffened. His fingers curled into his robes, knuckles pale.
"…I understand," he said after a moment, the words dry against his throat.
He did not want to go. Of all things left to confront, the man who had raised him with quiet smiles and long lectures, the man who brewed his medicine when he was ill, whose robes always smelled faintly of ink and sandalwood—Xinyu didn't know if he could look him in the eye.
But there was no more running. Not after the dreams. Not after the illusion in the Spirit Echo Cave. The truth, once seen, could not be sealed back into the dark.
The walk to Shizun's pavilion was short, but today the steps stretched like a winding thread of fate. His palms were sweating. His chest ached. He paused at the door, took a breath that didn't help, then pushed it open.
Inside, the air smelled of ink and old pine. His shizun—Zhou Yuanzhen—was seated at the long table, brush in hand, head bent over a scroll. Sunlight streamed through the lattice windows, catching the silver strands in his hair. His posture was still, austere, the way Xinyu remembered from childhood.
"I'm here," Xinyu said quietly. "Disciple Chen Xinyu… reporting."
Zhou Yuanzhen didn't look up. "Sit, Xiao Yu."
The name landed like a stone in water. Xinyu obeyed, folding his sleeves, forcing his breath to even.
The silence stretched. The brush moved, words flowing onto paper, and Xinyu could only look at the old familiar hands that had once held his when he first learned to write talismans.
"…I heard from Xueyao that you summoned me."
Zhou Yuanzhen finally put the brush down. He raised his head, face calm, but his eyes were troubled—like clouds beginning to gather before a storm.
"Xiao Yu," he said, his tone careful. "What's going on with you lately? I won't scold you for skipping class. You're not a child anymore. I've seen how hard you've been training. And I was… truly glad, when I heard you obtained a spiritual sword. It means the heavens have not turned their back on you."
He paused. "You know, don't you? That you can trust me."
Xinyu smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Shizun has always been trustworthy. Don't worry."
Zhou Yuanzhen shook his head slowly. "No. You're hiding something. It's not just fatigue. You've changed. The others sense it, too."
And then—
"Shizun." The words broke before they were fully formed. "Why… why did you never tell me the truth about how my parents died?"
The silence that followed was no longer peaceful. It was thick. It bled into the walls. Zhou Yuanzhen's hands stilled. His jaw clenched. For a moment, Xinyu saw something raw flicker across his shizun's face—fear, perhaps, or helplessness.
"So the day has come," Zhou Yuanzhen murmured. "I thought I could carry it to my grave. I truly… I hoped you'd never ask."
"But I have," Xinyu said, voice shaking.
Zhou Yuanzhen exhaled slowly, gaze unfocused. "I didn't want you to carry that grief. I didn't want it to anchor itself in your chest like a stone. They were your parents, yes—but they were mine too, in a way. My dearest friends. I held your mother's hand when she left this world."
Xinyu flinched.
"I swore I'd protect you," his shizun said, voice hoarse. "They begged me—days before it happened. They knew something was coming. They told me not to tell you.
Not unless it was the only way left. And even then… they didn't want revenge. They wanted you to live."
"But I can't," Xinyu whispered. His voice cracked. "I can't forget. The dreams—I see them every night. The sword, the blood, the scream—my mother's voice, she said 'live' with her last breath. How am I supposed to live with that?!"
His shoulders shook. "They died for me! And I—Shizun, I can't just… pretend it never happened."
Zhou Yuanzhen's eyes shimmered. "Xiao Yu…"
"I'm grateful to you," Xinyu said, wiping his eyes. "For raising me, teaching me. But this burden is mine. You don't have to carry it anymore."
Zhou Yuanzhen rose. "You're wrong. I will carry it. I must. Your parents entrusted you to me. If you throw your life away now, what did their sacrifice mean?"
Xinyu stood too, teeth gritted. "Even they wanted a happy life for me! But how can I be happy when the Demon Lord who killed them is still breathing?"
Zhou Yuanzhen's voice turned sharp. "Do you even realize who you're talking about? This is no ordinary villain. This is the Demon Lord—lord of the Ninth Abyss! You cannot fight him with grief alone. You'll die, Xinyu!"
Xinyu's eyes blazed. "Then I'll get stronger."
He turned and left.
Outside, the wind slapped his face. His eyes were red, though no longer weeping. Along the path, Yan Zheng and Shen Yao were walking up.
"Xinyu!" Yan Zheng called. "What happened to you?"
"It's nothing," Xinyu muttered, brushing past. "Just a talk with Shizun."
He yanked his arm from Yan Zheng's grasp and walked away.
"Oi! Don't talk to your seniors like that," Shen Yao called after him, scowling.
But Xinyu didn't look back.
Inside the pavilion, Zhou Yuanzhen remained standing for a long time. Then he sank slowly to his knees, shoulders bowed.
When Yan Zheng and Shen Yao entered, they found him still like that, the pages on his desk fluttering in the wind.
"Shizun?" Shen Yao stepped forward. "What happened?"
Zhou Yuanzhen raised his head. His voice was quiet, trembling. "Protect Xinyu… at all costs."
The two disciples exchanged a glance. They had grown up with Xinyu—shared meals, fought monsters, bled on the same soil. He was their younger brother, in everything but blood.
They nodded without hesitation.
That night, the moon was pale and high.
Chi Ruyan sat before a candle, its flame flickering like a whisper of malicious hope. She tapped her fingers once against a sealed envelope, then called out:
"Chao Chao."
The girl appeared from the shadows, bowing low. "Yes, Madam."
"Take this to the Demon Realm. Find Pei. Don't say who sent it. He'll understand."
Chao Chao nodded, disappearing like smoke.
Ruyan stared at the closed window. Her expression was cold, serene.
"That mark on your neck, Xinyu… Let's see what it really is."
She smiled.
"Just you wait. I will tear you away from Hua Ling—piece by piece."