XUE MENG LET OUT a twisted shriek as he shot toward Shi Mei, but it was too late. Like the king of hell coming to earth or the god of death rising in the sky, Hua Binan swooped from the air and grabbed Shi Mei by the throat.
"Shi Mei!"
"Shi Mingjing!"
Xue Meng cried out in unison with the elders of Sisheng Peak. One by one, the heads of the crowd turned. Hua Binan pulled Shi Mei into the air and gazed down at the seething mass of cultivators, backlit by the brightness of the moon in the sky.
Xue Meng, mad with terror, gave chase on Longcheng, but the murderous wasps Hua Binan sent at him kept him at bay. Unable to make any headway, he returned to the ground and crumpled to his knees.
Clutching Shi Mei by the neck, Hua Binan caressed his throat. The snake-patterned ring on his hand clicked, and a sharp thorn flicked out, gleaming cold in the dark. "Optomancy is an advanced technique," said Hua Binan lightly. "Our young friend here is not a disciple of Guyueye, yet he managed to master it. He must be quite talented."
By now, the rest of those fighting on the ground had noticed what was going on. In the same moment, Xue Zhengyong and Mo Ran—
even Chu Wanning, standing before the array—looked over to find Shi Mei had become Hua Binan's captive.
Mo Ran's pupils shrank. In his hand, Jiangui sparked crimson with his rage and flung Huang Xiaoyue and the others away so violently a few unlucky ones were tossed off the platform completely. They plummeted into the sea of clouds, so far even their screams were swallowed by silence. "Hua Binan! Let him go!" Mo Ran roared.
Shi Mei's face was bone-pale. He looked down at Mo Ran, then at Xue Meng, and pressed bloodless lips together. "You guys help Shizun," he managed. "Don't worry about me."
"Shi Mei!" Mo Ran cried in protest.
Standing before the array, Chu Wanning had also gone white. His hands shook where they were pressed to the center of the array, the tendons on their backs protruding. His whole heart seemed to hang in his throat.
Shi Mei turned, his gaze falling upon him. His eyes were shadowed faintly with grief. "Shizun…"
"What a coincidence." Hua Binan smiled again. "Have I by chance grabbed one of Chu-zongshi's disciples?"
Chu Wanning said nothing.
"No wonder he's so strong at such a young age." Hua Binan was unstinting with his praise. "I'm sure his shizun would be heartbroken to lose such a lovely student."
"Hua Binan, if you hurt him, I'll see that you pay!" cried Chu Wanning.
"You mean you're not going to leap to his rescue?" Hua Binan smiled, turning to Shi Mei. "Hear that? Between saving you and sealing the array, he chooses the latter."
Shi Mei closed his eyes. His lips trembled, but he did not speak.
Hua Binan laughed. "Now I really do feel sorry for our young friend. He picked a shizun who's more concerned with righteousness than his own disciple's life. Shi Mingjing, you're truly pitiable."
Wind gusted past them. No one spoke.
"Shizun." Perhaps the impending peril spurred Shi Mei to suddenly say into the silence, his eyes fluttering open, "I'm sorry. I know… I know you remember the selfish things I've done. Even now, I'm still not sure if I was right or wrong… I'm not fit to be Shizun's disciple, am I? So many times, I wasn't able to choose righteousness over my life…"
"Shi Mei…" Atop the platform, Xue Meng sharply recalled the night Chu Wanning died, when Huaizui asked them to go down into the underworld to save their teacher. Shi Mei had faltered, hesitating.
Mo Ran thought of that bowl of wontons. He remembered when Shi Mei had bowed low in that inn and told him that warm bowl had actually been from Chu Wanning.
And Chu Wanning? Chu Wanning thought of Shi Mei's sadness over not receiving a holy weapon at Jincheng Lake.
But beyond these, none of them could recall any other moments of weakness. Shi Mei had always been gentle, poised, and obedient. He was like an early winter snowfall, flawlessly pristine—such that the slightest fleck of mud or flicker of plum blossom was trebly eye-catching and conspicuous. His mistakes, his hesitation, his infrequent acts of selfishness or manipulation—each one was vivid and memorable.
He was only an ordinary person after all. He wasn't a stone statue or a silk painting. He too had his selfishness, yet no one had ever understood him.
To Xue Meng, Shi Mei was his friend. He thought that this friend should of course follow his lead, keep him company, agree with him and help him.
To Mo Ran of the past, Shi Mei had been the object of his affections. He thought that this person should of course be obliging, gentle, and flawless.
To Chu Wanning, Shi Mei was his disciple. He was good-tempered and easily befriended others; he was possessed of an enviable gentleness and endurance.
It was only now that they realized that Shi Mei had always silently played the part of Xue Meng's friend and helper, Mo Ran's first love, and Chu Wanning's least noticeable, most agreeable disciple. The only thing he'd never been was himself.
Hua Binan scoffed. "Are you speaking your last words?"
"Let him go, Hua Binan!"
"Don't hurt him!"
"Sure," said Hua Binan. "If all of you stop and wait for death, what need is there to take his life?"
The array flickered before Chu Wanning's eyes; he'd reached a critical point. Whether it would be sealed away or burst into shape all came down to this. He hadn't yet pulled away, but his hands were shaking.
This wasn't like the Heavenly Rift to the ghost realm, where he didn't have the time to think. Before his eyes, a knife was pressed to his disciple's neck, staying his hand. Forcing him into the most painful dilemma.
Hua Binan pushed his chin out. "How about it?" He smiled. "If the array forms, you guys can keep fighting, but if this knife goes in, it'll be terribly difficult to bring him back. Think it over, Zongshi."
But before Chu Wanning could respond, Shi Mei spoke up. His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear and carrying. "I don't actually like tanghulu."
Hua Binan looked down at him in silent confusion. Shi Mei wasn't crying. He was smiling as he looked down at his friends and shizun.
"I don't like tanghulu, but Young master, you always made me help you eat them when you were little. The art I most wanted to learn was barrier techniques, but Shizun thought I had no talent for it and refused to teach me too much. I…" His eyes fell upon Mo Ran. "A-Ran, actually, I knew what you wanted to say at Butterfly Town on the day of the Heavenly Rift."
Mo Ran froze, staring at him blankly. Shi Mei was still smiling, so sweet and gentle. "But after Shizun came back, you never finished your thought. At the restaurant, when I saw the look in your eyes when the two of you were eating dinner together, I knew you'd never say it again."
Mo Ran didn't know what to say.
"To be honest, I really envy the young master, and I… I really envy Shizun," whispered Shi Mei. "Please…please don't find me detestable because of my envy…"
"I've never found you so!" Xue Meng shouted, the rims of his eyes red. "I—I didn't know you didn't like tanghulu, I really didn't… Shi Mei! Shi Mei!"
But Hua Binan was already bored. He tightened his grip on Shi Mei's neck, eyes fixed on Chu Wanning, and snapped: "I'll count to three. Step back or I'll kill him!"
"No!" Xue Meng turned in a panic and shouted at Chu Wanning. "Shizun, step back! That's Shi Mei up there! Stop!"
"One."
The imperceptible shaking of Chu Wanning's hands had become noticeable. He stared at Shi Mei, sharp phoenix eyes meeting gentle peach-blossom gaze. Tears filled Chu Wanning's eyes.
"Two!"
Blood sprayed into the air. Xue Meng and Mo Ran's shouts were like a sword piercing the sky. "Shi Mei—!"
"…No need to count." Shi Mei's hands flew up to his eyes, covering them.
He hadn't cried this whole time, but now blood seeped between his fingers and streamed down his cheeks. When Hua Binan had counted two, he'd shoved himself against that icy thorn Hua Binan held before his face. Stunned, Hua Binan loosened his grip—the thorn slanted—and the point that would've slit Shi Mei's throat scraped across his eyes, blinding him.
"The Yuheng Elder has no disciple who bows, nor…nor one who is weak."
"Shi Mei!"
"Shi Mei!"
Their cries rent the heavens.
Chu Wanning was stupefied. He'd been holding himself together, but at the sight of his disciple with his eyes ruined, blood sheeting down his face, he lost his focus. In that instant, the array lashed out; a surge of spiritual energy whipped out from the wound in the sky, striking him square in the chest and knocking him away. Chu Wanning spat out a mouthful of blood. Ignoring his injuries, he turned back to mend the crack, but it was too late.
Laughing in astonishment, Hua Binan gripped Shi Mei's lapels and dragged him closer, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. "How useful you've turned out to be. Killing you would be a waste."
"Hua Binan, what are you planning?!" shouted Xue Meng.
Hua Binan shot him a cool glance, then looked at the black array that was yawning open. "It took so many people to create this array, and now it's finally done. Gentleman-scholars and warrior-heroes, this humble one will be activating it for the first time. It's a first trial—even I don't know what may happen next."
With that, he touched down on the Soul-Summoning Platform with Shi Mei in tow. Before he disappeared into the tunnel everyone had poured out of, he left his parting words with the crowd: "You all just stay here and have fun. Mount Jiao is a brilliant place to die."
Almost simultaneously, a deafening noise shook the sky. The dark array spread in the air like ink on paper, swallowing the heavens until even the moon was blocked behind its oppressive darkness.
"What's going on?"
"What array is this?!"
"Is this the Heavenly Rift?"
"A Heavenly Rift isn't this color!"
The cultivators who'd been at each other's throats moments before became passengers on the same boat once more, all staring warily up at this ghoulish tear in the sky. And perhaps it couldn't be called a tear anymore. A good half of the sky above the Soul-Summoning Tower had been ripped open. A muted, urgent rumble echoed from its depths.
Huang Xiaoyue's face was a waxy yellow. "Is…a monster about to emerge? What's making that noise?"
Mo Ran was first to get close. He stood before the dark rip in the sky with Jiangui in his grip as a flash of lightning split the skies and thunder shook the earth.
"It's open!"
"There's something inside it! Something's coming!"
"Vengeful ghosts?!"
Seeing Chu Wanning and Mo Ran so close to that dark rift, Xue Meng scrubbed his tears away and launched himself toward his cousin and shizun—only to be caught by Xue Zhengyong and dragged back to safety.
"Dad!"
"You stay right here!"
"No! I need to go to Shizun and Ge!"
Xue Zhengyong's eyes were hard, with a rare sternness. "Do you want to die?!" he said forbiddingly. "Don't you know—"
The rest of the sentence snapped away like a broken branch. Stunned, he fell silent—Xue Meng was crying.
"Dad," he sobbed. "I need to help them. They took Shi Mei; I can't hide behind you and let anyone else get hurt! Please!"
Before Xue Zhengyong could answer, storm clouds rolled out from the black smoke and hissing lighting at the center of the array. Yet upon closer inspection, these were no clouds at all, but a group of masked, black-clad cultivators. They swept down on their swords, scattering from the thunderstorm above.
Which sect they belonged to, or who they were, no one could guess. The man leading them wore a lavish cloak of gold-stitched black, his face obscured by a terrifying silver mask. He stood in the air with an arm behind his back. Surrounded by billowing gales and gathering clouds, he spoke not a word, yet emanated an unspeakable malevolence.
"What the hell is this?" Xue Zhengyong was lost.
The less experienced cultivators among them couldn't even muster the question. They stared stupidly at the sky. Were these ghosts? No—there were no ghosts like this. More and more cultivators streaked out from the rift. Their numbers swelled from dozens to hundreds until, filling the sky in a dark cloud, they equaled those on the ground. There were thousands of them.
Xue Zhengyong shuddered. Bracing himself, he shouted: "Sir, are you a man or a ghost? Why not introduce yourself?!"
The man looked down at him. His gaze seemed to pause meaningfully on Xue Zhengyong's form.
"Say something!" Xue Meng shouted as well. "Can you not understand what we're saying?!"
The man didn't waste his breath. He extended one bone-pale hand in a gesture that hung in the air. The downward flick was as brief as his command: "Attack."