Chapter 77

Ning Shiting said evenly, “Why does the Great General assume... that this Ting must die?”

Gu Tingshuang dreamt that he had become a tree.

His branches were lush, and his roots plunged deep into the earth. From the very beginning of heaven and earth, he had been born alongside Spirit Mountain. The wind had shaken his seed loose beneath the Eternal Moon of Spirit Mountain, and countless millennia had passed since then.

He witnessed the rise and fall of the White Wolf God-King—a legendary deity who, through his strength alone, had elevated the ancient white wolf clan. He protected the only lineage on Spirit Mountain that never fell from the clouds, even when spiritual energy waned. His eyes were molten gold, as if they could ignite at any moment, and his body gleamed with radiant silver fur. Nowhere on Spirit Mountain could one find a creature more beautiful than the white wolf. Under the Eternal Moon, packs of white wolves lived and played; many would come close to him, rubbing their itchy backs against his bark, and mischievous little wolves would climb up into his branches.

The rise and fall of a beautiful race unfolded before the eyes of this towering ancient tree. Life and death passed in an eternal cycle, as fleeting as the blink of an eye. One moment, a newborn wolf pup opened its dazed eyes to the world; the next, the time of transcendence arrived, and with age and weariness etched upon it, it vanished beneath the full moon. The cycle turned again and again, never ceasing.

At that time, the Eternal Moon of Spirit Mountain had not yet become a land of everlasting night. Day and night still alternated; the wolves rested by day and moved by night. But later, on a full-moon night, the White Wolf God vanished. From that moment on, time at the broken cliff seemed to stop. The sun and moon no longer cycled, and it became a land of eternal night.

Whenever a new wolf came of age, a crack would split open in the clouds above, and golden light would shine down upon the land—a blessing from the departed god. From that moment on, the White Wolf Clan gained a near-immortal resilience. Brave and exceptional wolves could return from death again and again. All living beings on Spirit Mountain knew that it was the protection of the White Wolf God, the radiance of the Kui Wood Sirius star, that made this possible.

In his dream, Gu Tingshuang saw the present. He saw snowflakes begin to drift through the sky after the death of the Snow Yao—gentle, fine, and fluttering down like scattered thoughts. A white wolf followed two figures: one standing, the other sitting in a wheelchair, head tilted, eyes closed.

Both of them were beautiful. He didn’t know where they had come from, nor where they were going.

His roots extended from Spirit Mountain deep into the earth, reaching all the way to the human settlements in the east. Twisting and entangled with other roots from countless great trees, they gave him knowledge of all things.

Somehow, he knew that the silver-haired youth was named Ning Shiting—a Jiaoren with a stunningly beautiful fishtail. Gu Tingshuang liked him very much, so he continued to watch, following along with his gaze.

Ning Shiting looked fragile. Every step he took trembled, as if he might collapse at any moment from exhaustion. But this delicate and beautiful Jiaoren did not fall. He steadily pushed the wheelchair, eyes focused on the person seated within it, and slowly made his way down the mountain. At his sides walked two white wolves, and one of them carried on its back a comatose ice mayfly.

And then, Gu Tingshuang understood—Ning Shiting wanted to take these two injured people back to the human dwellings, where there would be the warmth of firelight and soft beds to shield them from the bitter cold and snow. Humans, unlike trees, had no rough bark or deep-reaching roots. They were a far more fragile race.

He watched the Jiaoren walk into the room. The other humans standing guard there seemed startled by the sight before them. They laid the ice mayfly on the bed, gently wiped down his body with silk soaked in warm water, cleaned his wounds, and lit an incense that, when Gu Tingshuang inhaled its scent, would make new leaves sprout from his branches.

“Gongzi, the little gongzi, Ting Shu, probably won’t be able to get out of bed for a while. Fortunately, they’re all surface wounds—no damage to the tendons or bones.”

“All right, I understand. You stay here and keep watch. I’ll tend to Yinbing first.”

He saw Ning Shiting help the person in the wheelchair onto the bed, gently undoing the layers of clothing until only a thin inner garment remained. Through a handkerchief, he tried to feel the boy’s pulse. As if he couldn’t hear it, he lowered his head and pressed his ear to the youth’s chest. After a while, he let out a quiet breath of relief—but then a trace of worry settled between his brows.

With just one glance, Gu Tingshuang could tell: the person lying on the bed had a fragmented spirit and a waning life force.

They—trees who had stood for tens of millions of years—did not misjudge such things. Ning Shiting would not be able to save the person on that bed, not unless a miracle occurred, and the scattered spirit voluntarily returned. But that would be as difficult as fishing up a dispersed soul piece by piece from the River of Forgetting—nearly impossible, unless a miracle happened.

But Ning Shiting didn’t know these things. He sat quietly by the bedside. Amid the faint drifting scent of incense, he slowly leaned forward onto the couch, as though he could no longer hold himself up, and rested there for a moment. The Jiaoren’s silver-white hair was stained with blood and no longer smooth and graceful as usual. His long eyelashes were still, like frozen butterflies. Medicine simmered nearby, the fire licking audibly at the bottom of the pot—the only sound in the room.

To Gu Tingshuang’s surprise, he found the scene beautiful. If he were human, not a tree, he surely would’ve been unable to hold in an awestruck breath.

In the quiet snowy day, aside from Ning Shiting and the two unconscious people in the room, and a few white wolves crouched by Ning Shiting’s side unwilling to leave, no one knew that this would be the final abnormal snowfall since the Snow Yao appeared in the world. No one had yet noticed that this time, the snow would no longer remain frozen on the ground as before, but would melt away the moment it touched the earth, vanishing as if it had never existed at all.

And this snowfall was so gentle, light, small, silent, not disturbing a single soul.

Until humans from the other side stormed in with great force, shattering the stillness. Only then did Ning Shiting startle awake and lift his head.

A human guarding the door reported, “Gongzi, it's people from the General's Manor. General Baili has come to ask about the terms of the wager. The Grand General is already waiting in the main hall.”

Ning Shiting asked, “Where’s the Wangye?”

“Wangye has gone to Yike Qianjin. He said that tonight, he leaves everything to you, Gongzi—that you must personally give him a satisfactory answer.” The man’s voice trembled slightly. “He said that if you cannot provide that answer… then you will answer Bixia with your life.”

“The Snow Yao is dead.” Ning Shiting stood up. In that instant, his body swayed slightly, and he instinctively reached out to steady himself on the table beside him. “Naturally, Bixia cannot tolerate anyone who returns alive after killing the Snow Yao. One is me, the other is Ting Shu—it’s no wonder the Wangye is concerned. Go give him my reply: I will give the Wangye an answer.”

The man at the door delivered the message, and a scout’s voice echoed from outside: “The Wangye will return at the hour of Mao tomorrow. Gongzi’s fate will be decided in that moment. The Wangye said, he cherishes you—he does not want you to die.”

“This Ting understands.”

Ning Shiting’s eyes were lowered, making him appear quiet and obedient.

As he stepped outside, Gu Tingshuang swayed his branches and leaves slightly, trying to catch his attention—because he had noticed that Ning Shiting didn’t look well. Someone like him should smile; he would be more beautiful that way. If he could notice that the tree was dancing for him with its leaves and branches, wouldn’t that make him happy?

But Ning Shiting didn’t notice.

His steps were light, his eyes gathering a deep and heavy storm. When his lashes lowered, no one could see through to what he was thinking—or to what was gathering around him—

Killing intent!

At some point, a strange fragrance had begun to spread. Outside the main hall, a dense crowd of soldiers who had just come down from the snowy mountain stood packed together. Lights glowed within the hall. In that golden, opulent space, Gu Tingshuang saw a man who looked like a general drinking tea.

Somehow, inexplicably, Gu Tingshuang knew this man’s name was Baili Hongzhou. He also knew—it was a man he didn’t quite like.

He attributed this feeling to the arrogance that could not be hidden between the man’s brows, and to that slow, languid, half-smiling voice of his.

Baili Hongzhou raised a cup of warm wine and smiled at Ning Shiting, who was slowly approaching from the crowd. “This cup is for you, Ning Gongzi. I underestimated you before—never thought you’d really come back alive from the mountain. When the snowstorm weakened around midnight, we already knew you had succeeded.”

“Only, why bother, hmm?”

Ning Shiting hadn’t even reached the center of the hall when Baili Hongzhou suddenly flipped his hand and poured the hot wine onto the ground. The clear liquid splashed with steam, and through the rising mist, a pair of eyes looked down from above with cold contempt.

He already considered Ning Shiting a dead man.

Ning Shiting stopped at the threshold, silent.

“In the end, even though you brought Ting Shu back alive, aren’t you still going to die in his place? How long do you think you can protect him?” Baili Hongzhou said. “Once you’re dead, he’ll still be my younger brother, and he’ll return to the Baili Manor just the same. The day His Majesty’s suspicions toward the Baili family reach their peak, he will still be the most useful tool in my hands.”

Ning Shiting said hoarsely, “I won’t let him return to you again. Two years ago, I picked him up…”

“Ha! You picked him up, gave him two years of peace—and now you’re just sending him off to die?” Baili Hongzhou said. “He might as well have died during the exile back then. The Baili clan does not allow low-blooded bastards to live. He should’ve been strangled the moment he was born. If my mother hadn’t gone soft and decided to spare his life to see what fate he might have, do you think he would’ve even made it to twelve? But, then again, no one could’ve guessed that this sickly child would grow up to be such a pure-blooded Ice Mayfly. He was always fated to return at this moment, to take the fall for the Baili family. After all, it was we who gave him life, wasn’t it?”

Ning Shiting remained silent.

Gu Tingshuang noticed his fingertips trembling slightly.

He thought Ning Shiting wouldn’t respond, but after a moment, Ning Shiting spoke first: “Regarding the Snow Yao—if Ting Shu had failed the mission and died out there, what were you going to do then? Just let the disaster keep ravaging the immortals and mortals alike?”

"——What else could we have done? Spiritual energy is withering across the land; you could count on one hand the number of cultivators who’ve advanced past the Qi Refining stage. The Snow Yao was beyond anyone’s control—why should we waste our strength?"

Ning Shiting spoke softly, “I once believed that after fighting for Xianzhou half your life, you’d have at least a shred of conscience. But I was wrong.”

Gu Tingshuang noticed that he said you—not you all.

There was something behind that phrasing, as if he had already given up hope on someone else entirely.

“Ning Gongzi, I’d like to ask you instead: how much is a conscience worth?” Baili Hongzhou sneered. “You had one, so you dragged your sick body to finish the Xihou Chronicles, established a civil court, formulated Soul Returning incense—and what did that earn you? The suspicion of Bixia, and the abandonment of Wangye. And your people? Where are they now?”

Ning Shiting replied quietly, “I do not need them to be here. I am a government official. This is what I am supposed to do. Publicly, they owe me nothing. Privately, since I took office, there have always been anonymous gifts delivered to the manor, tokens of gratitude for the grace shown by this Wangye’s household. That is already enough.”

“Ning Gongzi, it’s fine if you want to play the saint or be a just official. The pity is—your sovereign doesn’t see it that way,” Baili Hongzhou said with a mocking smile. “A good official doesn’t act like you do. All you’ve done is set him up as a target.”

“There’s no need to say more, Great General.” Ning Shiting inclined his head slightly. “When words fail, half a sentence is too much—that’s what you told me the last time you visited the manor.”

Baili Hongzhou paused, clearly not expecting Ning Shiting to still have the strength to wound with words at such a time. He couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re amusing. At death’s door and still sparking like a firecracker. And yet, why is it you act so obedient and meek before the Wang Qing?”

Ning Shiting said evenly, “Why does the Great General assume... that this Ting must die?”

Until now, Ning Shiting had kept his gaze lowered, manner docile and unassuming. But in that moment, he suddenly lifted his head, and in his eyes was an open, unguarded smile—calm, clear, with a flicker of something indefinable behind it.

In the lamplight, those eyes shimmered like rippling water, so dark and deep that one almost forgot his pale lips and feverish face. Perhaps it was the lingering effect of the Fire Dragon Balm, or perhaps it was the fever still burning in him—his fingertips flushed faintly pink, blood and breath surging violently beneath the skin.

It was a beauty that could steal the soul.

Baili Hongzhou was momentarily stunned by the sight, his eyes stung as if pricked. For a split second, he found himself unable to meet Ning Shiting’s gaze, afraid that one more glance would break through all restraint.

“Ning Gongzi is a man of such noble virtue,” he said, forcing composure back into his voice. “Naturally, you wouldn’t send Ting Shu to die, would you? And yet, if you avoid this matter entirely, Wangye will be forced to strike you down himself. Otherwise, how will Bixia’s suspicions be eased?”

Ning Shiting shook his head gently. “To please Bixia, there are two ways—cripple your own wings to dispel doubt, or achieve merit great enough to offset it. The Snow Yao is dead; Wangye and the General have earned their glory. But Ting Shu and I? Our strength will only become sharper thorns in Bixia’s eyes—sooner or later, we’ll be plucked out.”

He paused, then added, “But you and Wangye have both forgotten the third path—pledge your loyalty outright. Tell me, General, are you willing?”

Before Baili Hongzhou could respond, Ning Shiting answered himself:

“You’re not, are you? Because that’s the work of subordinates—of those who know how to play the dog, how to bow low and please their master. You don’t do it, because you haven’t needed to yet. Wangye doesn’t do it, because his pride won’t allow it. But everyone knows—more than clipped wings or lost power, what Bixia truly desires is proof of loyalty, isn’t it?”

He smiled faintly. “So tell me—if I die, or Ting Shu dies, how long will that really solve anything? How long will that appease him?”

Baili Hongzhou was, for a moment, completely at a loss for words.

Ning Shiting was right. The temporary alliance between the Baili family and the Qing Royal Family was bound to crumble one day, but until then, they could still support each other. If things changed in the future, the two sides might very well turn against each other.

Baili Hongzhou leaned more toward waiting for the right moment to trade Gu Feiyin away, winning favour with the Xian Emperor and finally letting the long-hidden Baili clan turn their fortunes around.

It was a plan that required careful, long-term calculation.

But these thoughts, he had never shared with anyone.

Baili Hongzhou said, “You’re clever, but it’s a shame to be by the side of a traitor like Gu Feiyin.”

Ning Shiting replied, “I think it’s a shame too. Nothing is easy to balance. I want both myself and Ting Shu to survive, and also to fulfill every wish of Wangye’s. That takes a lot of thought and effort. Wangye is a man who can see things ordinary people can’t. What I once thought was a dead end, actually isn’t. Wangye has long given a hint—there’s still a way out for me.”

“A way where neither I nor Ting Shu need to die.”

Baili Hongzhou’s interest was piqued. “And what way is that?”

Ning Shiting smiled faintly. “It’s also the death path for the General.”

In that instant, Baili Hongzhou was struck with a sharp shock—so fierce was the murderous aura in Ning Shiting’s eyes that cold sweat broke out all over him!

Ning Shiting no longer hid his intent, no longer circled around. The fragrance thickened, growing dense and heavy, and only then did Baili Hongzhou realise that every soldier he had stationed outside had fallen completely silent.

His own five senses and six perceptions were slowly numbing.

Ning Shiting stood firm at the doorway, blocking the gusts of wind that passed through, dispersing the soul-shattering, bone-consuming poisonous incense into the air.

He stepped into the main hall, drew a gleaming silver dagger from his hand, and whispered, “This incense is called Soul-Destroying Bone. When the poison activates, it blocks all five senses and six perceptions, turning one into a puppet to be slaughtered at will. Among the people the General brought, there are fifty-five ice mayflies, plus you—that makes fifty-six. After tonight, Baili Ting Shu will be the sole heir of the Baili family. From then on, the Baili clan will never again involve itself in assassinations or suicide missions, living honourably and openly under the sun. This was the General’s long-cherished wish.”

“Put your mother’s dog farts to pasture!” Baili Hongzhou’s eyes burned with killing intent as Ning Shiting stepped closer. He was a battle-hardened man—when blinded by rage, even fate itself would steer clear. He had faced life and death countless times over.

A mere Ning Shiting—what was he?

Before Ning Shiting could unsheathe his dagger fully, Baili Hongzhou unleashed the power of an ice mayfly and vanished right before his eyes. Almost simultaneously, Ning Shiting slammed the door shut behind him, shooting fifty-five pear blossom spikes from his sleeves, each piercing through the four walls and the ceiling of the hall.

The wind howled through the fifty-five holes, shifting direction and temperature as it passed obstacles.

At this moment, Ning Shiting’s senses as a Jiaoren were at their peak—he held his breath and pinpointed Baili Hongzhou’s location, then threw his dagger with a swift flick toward a certain corner!

The sound of blood spraying echoed through the hall. Baili Hongzhou let out a muffled grunt, briefly revealing himself before vanishing once again. But the dripping blood constantly betrayed his position.

Ning Shiting walked calmly toward the corner, bent down to pick up his dagger, then suddenly quickened his pace. With one swift move, he reached out and grabbed an invisible shadow before him, twisting the hilt and driving the blade in hard.

A painful cry rang out once more. Ning Shiting twisted the dagger’s hilt again and slammed it heavily into the back of Baili Hongzhou’s head, stepping on him to pin him to the ground.

“Ting Shu carries twenty-eight wounds, some so deep they reach the bone,” Ning Shiting said evenly as he stabbed down again. “You placed the lure incense on him, making him bait. I will show you what it feels like to be used as bait.”

Another stab, carefully avoiding any fatal spots.

Ning Shiting’s breath grew heavier. “Yinbing has no wounds, but his soul is absent. I don’t know if he’ll recover this time, or how many more days he’ll need to rest.”

Another stab.

“This one is for myself, for the one you harmed that I protect.”

Baili Hongzhou couldn’t hold back his agonised cries: “If you’ve got the guts, give me a quick death! Ning Shiting! Ning Shiting—”

The final slash severed his tongue, blood splattering all over Ning Shiting.

“Perhaps I should make you reveal some secrets known only to the Baili household, but that’s no longer necessary.”

Ning Shiting finally dropped the knife. The silver blade struck the ground with a crisp, clear sound.

He seemed to have lost his soul, leaving the barely breathing figure on the floor behind as he walked out.

His whole body trembled—not only from the exhaustion of exertion, but because countless tangled emotions crashed through his mind: anger, hatred, satisfaction, and a profound confusion that had never changed, neither in this life nor the last.

Outside the main hall, someone called out loudly from afar: “Wangye said, if the Gongzi walks out alive from the hall, then ask him—have you found that answer?”

Ning Shiting replied calmly: “The Baili family will be destroyed; the Qing Wang will annihilate the Snow Yao, rooting out enemies for Bixia. The twelve-year-old Baili Tingshu will be the sole heir of the Baili household, serving Bixia faithfully.”

“Right, Gongzi. Wangye asked me to tell you this: you did very well this time, and you were smart enough.”

The voices faded into the distance.

Snowflakes still drifted softly from the sky.

Ning Shiting turned, intending to return to the fragrance pavilion. But after only a few steps, he suddenly fell straight to his knees in the snow, breathing shallowly and low.

His poisonous Jiaoren body had already been pushed to its limit. His vision blurred; he could see nothing and had no choice but to pause and rest.

His sight was a haze, but he reached out with effort and touched a nearby plum blossom tree, as if finding support. Autumn was not plum blossom season, yet under this unusual climate, this wintersweet tree was in full bloom.

Gu Tingshuang silently watched it all, gently shaking his branches once more to scatter some petals down upon him.

Petals and fine snowflakes drifted into Ning Shiting’s hair, like someone softly brushing his head.

Ning Shiting lifted his head, breathing weakly, enduring the pain brought by illness.

Tiny snowflakes kissed his thin lips.

Gu Tingshuang vaguely recalled that he must have seen snow like this many times before. Although, just as he didn’t know why he understood the name Jiaoren, he couldn’t remember where exactly he had seen it.

He had seen Jiaoren covered in wounds, had seen this silver-haired youth die again and again, returning with a tired smile.

He had seen the murmurs of the sick man before him, had seen him tuck the bright red marriage contract deep into the bottom of a box, had seen him lean against a peach blossom tree and fall asleep in the hazy springtime.

He had seen him rest in his own embrace—just like now, deadly poison consuming his life. Ning Shiting quietly looked into his eyes, then closed them, never to awaken again.

He knew this feeling was called heartache, even though he shouldn’t have one, because he was a tree.

Gu Tingshuang quietly kept watch over him. At that moment, a voice suddenly came to his ear, asking, “Is it good to be a tree?”

Gu Tingshuang looked around, but no one was speaking.

Just as he was puzzled, the voice said again, “Don’t search. I am the snow.”

Indeed, the sky was shedding soft, fluttering snowflakes—and they were growing finer.

Gu Tingshuang shook his leaves in surprise: “You’re the first talking snow I’ve ever met in the mortal world. Before, only the ice and snow on Spirit Mountain spoke.”

The snow ignored him, only asking: “Is it good to be a tree?”

Gu Tingshuang thought for a moment: “Good.”

No need to do anything but grow, and still be able to let petals fall onto the brows of the one you love, to give a beautiful Jiaoren a place to lean on.

He said, “Maybe if I live another million years, I can take human form and meet him. You know, trees and fish are hard to be together.”

The snow said, “Yes, snow and fish are hard to be together too. After this snow falls, I will leave.”

Gu Tingshuang said, “Do you like fish too? Maybe I can help you send a message, let him know a snowflake once liked him.”

The snow said, “No need. After this snow, I will become part of you. From then on, please speak to him for me.”

Gu Tingshuang thought about it—it made sense.

When snow melts, it becomes water. He absorbs water to grow. Snow will become part of him.

He thought a moment more and added, “But I haven’t yet taken human form. I don’t know when I’ll be able to speak for you.”

“Did you forget? You were human from the start, Gu Tingshuang,” the snow said. “Don’t be foolish. Trees can’t carry fish back to their waters. Snow can’t either. Only Gu Tingshuang can.”

Gu Tingshuang hesitated: “Me?”

He pondered, and more scenes began to surface in his mind. He recalled a conversation from not long ago.

“Who am I, Ning Shiting?”

“You are Shizi, Dianxia. Your name is Gu Tingshuang. You are a person.”

His world began to shift slightly. Gu Tingshuang instinctively felt something was wrong. “Wait, you are—you are—”

“Don’t speak. Let me look at him one more time.”

A gust of wind blew; the plum blossom tree stopped shaking.

At the fragrance pavilion, the young man on the bed suddenly opened his eyes. His golden eyes burned like molten lava, then dimmed.

He was awake. The white wolves guarding his bedside wagged their tails, eager to nuzzle his hand.

“Dian… Dianxia?”

Hulu was bringing in water, intending to persuade him to rest a bit longer, but saw Gu Tingshuang suddenly leap from the bed and rush outside barefoot.

Ning Shiting was still unconscious beneath the plum blossom tree.

Ignoring everything, Gu Tingshuang, wearing only a thin robe, came here, panting.

He said, “Ning Shiting.”

Ning Shiting seemed to respond, his fingers twitching. In his daze, his expression was painful, as if reliving some unpleasant memories.

Gu Tingshuang gently lifted him horizontally, saying, “It’s all right now. It’s all over. I’ll take you back to rest. I’m fine, and that grumpy, unlucky ice mayfly Tingshu is fine too.”

The Jiaoren was soft and light; carrying him was effortless.

His chest offered the only warmth Ning Shiting could feel at the moment. Ning Shiting instinctively curled closer into his embrace.

He whispered, “Ng.”

Gu Tingshuang said no more, silently carrying him back.

The snow above thinned, and the sky gradually cleared. When they reached the door of the fragrance pavilion, the snow had completely stopped.

Gu Tingshuang paused, looked up at the sky, and saw the calm, clear expanse, with a final delicate snowflake drifting down.

It was so fragile, so light, as if no one wished to disturb it.

It landed on Ning Shiting’s lips, then melted into his warm breath.