Chapter 58

Thunder roared, and torrential rain lashed the dilapidated eaves like a furious, incessant drumbeat.

Song Qingshi awoke to the clamor, his head heavy, memories fragmented. His lips felt uncomfortably swollen, and the cracks in the Nascent Soul within his dantian multiplied, making its containment increasingly arduous…

He sat on the bed, pondering for a long time, until fragments of memory returned. They had ascended the Nine-Layered Tower to admire the moon and lanterns. He had invited Yue Wuhuan to share "Beauty's Drunk" wine. After drinking, Yue Wuhuan played a beautiful tune, but Song Qingshi, emboldened by the alcohol, had, like a beast, forcefully kissed Yue Wuhuan! Worse, he had leveraged his superior cultivation, rendering Yue Wuhuan powerless to resist, and forced multiple kisses!

What kind of monstrous behavior was this?!

Song Qingshi panicked like a startled dog, wishing he could dig a hole to bury himself in and then cover it with eighteen layers of earth!

Yue Wuhuan's footsteps approached from outside, heavy and deliberate.

Song Qingshi felt as if he were hearing his own death warrant. He wondered if kneeling to apologize might reduce the layers of earth by two…

Yue Wuhuan pushed open the door and stepped inside, soaked through, covered in mud and blood.

Song Qingshi took a deep breath, preparing to offer a sincere apology, but the scent of blood hit him. Realizing something had happened to Yue Wuhuan, he cast aside the awkwardness of the previous night, quickly threw open the bed curtains, and leaped off the bed. Rushing to Yue Wuhuan, he saw him drenched like a drowned rat, blood mingling with rainwater into a thick, sticky mess. Strands of disheveled hair clung to his golden mask, dripping icy droplets.

Yue Wuhuan stared at Song Qingshi's slightly swollen lips, his eyes devoid of all color.

"What happened?" Song Qingshi called out several times, but Yue Wuhuan remained unresponsive. Growing anxious, he knew cultivators couldn't catch colds, but staying wet was uncomfortable. He took the initiative, fetching a towel to wipe away the water, then retrieved a change of clothes from Yue Wuhuan's Mustard Seed Bag. After a moment’s hesitation, he asked carefully, "Can you undress yourself?"

Yue Wuhuan finally snapped out of his daze, removing his mask and belt before shedding his rain-soaked clothes layer by layer. Beneath, countless wounds from insect and snake bites were revealed. Though none were severe, they covered nearly every inch of his body—especially his once-perfect legs, now marred with tiny, venomous wounds, many of which had swollen into angry shades of red and purple, a truly shocking sight.

Song Qingshi recognized An Long’s doing at once, his expression darkening as he struggled to suppress his fury and remain composed.

Yue Wuhuan had already used antidote pills to suppress most of the toxins. Song Qingshi called forth the Nether Flame to extract the common poisons, but An Long’s profound expertise in Gu insects meant some toxins—fungus-like viruses—couldn’t be neutralized by the flame and required gradual medicinal treatment.

Ironically, this fungal virus was something Song Qingshi had helped develop...

The memory made his chest feel tight.

He swiftly treated Yue Wuhuan’s wounds, applying thick layers of ointment before wrapping them in bandages.

The thunder had ceased, but the rain still raged outside, the room's air stifling and oppressive.

Finally finishing the last bandage, Song Qingshi looked up and apologized earnestly, "I'm sorry."

Yue Wuhuan paused in surprise.

"It's my fault. I shouldn’t have let you travel together," Song Qingshi explained with difficulty. "I should’ve known—how could hatred disappear so easily? How could friendship form so quickly? Incompatible people shouldn’t be forced together... I’ll reprimand An Long properly, then take you back. From now on, I’ll only allow him to send letters—no visits, no meetings."

Those storybooks were all lies. There was no such thing as "fighting leads to friendship."

It was all his own naivety and foolish wishful thinking.

Consumed by guilt, Song Qingshi mentally berated himself, wishing he knew more words to curse himself harsher.

Yue Wuhuan lowered his phoenix eyes and whispered, "Master, there’s something important I must tell you."

...

Song Qingshi sat in a chair, staring blankly as the sky outside lightened to the fish-belly white of dawn. The storm had lessened, but the drizzling rain continued, the dampness seeping into every corner of the room, making everything feel oppressive.

It was as if he’d woken from a bizarre dream.

Yue Wuhuan had explained everything clearly and now waited quietly for his decision.

Song Qingshi closed his eyes, repeatedly scanning his body with Divine Sense for any hidden injuries. After a long search, he finally located a dead Gu insect in his brain—tiny, flesh-colored, painless, and undetectable.

This was the killer that had nearly claimed his life.

Had the system not retrieved his soul fragment from another world in time to repair his body, he would have died long ago.

"I don’t remember," Song Qingshi murmured, staring at the Gu insect in his palm, rubbing his forehead as he struggled to recall. "I don’t remember him having such feelings for me... or what happened back then..."

Yue Wuhuan reassured him, "Master, don’t blame yourself. He must have taken advantage of your trust as a friend to strike when you were unprepared."

Suddenly, the Nether Flame materialized in the air, forming a beautiful black lotus.

"Wu Huan, do you remember?" Song Qingshi cradled the black lotus and whispered, "My Nether Flame instinctively attacks hostile intent... An Long didn’t know that."

Had An Long harbored murderous intent, Song Qingshi would have sensed it, and the Gu insect could have been destroyed by the flame...

A battle between two Nascent Soul Cultivators could have flattened the entire mountain.

Yet, he had died quietly.

Why?

A terrible premonition gripped Yue Wuhuan—something was spiraling out of control...

"I don’t remember what happened, but after removing the Gu insect, I recalled how I felt at the moment of death—no resentment, no anger." Song Qingshi thought it laughable, but he couldn’t laugh. He lowered his head and admitted softly, "Wu Huan... I might have let him kill me."

"Nonsense! That’s impossible!" Yue Wuhuan grabbed his shoulders in horror. "Why?!"

"I don’t know," Song Qingshi said, agonizing over his failed memories. "Even if he didn’t see me as a friend... I couldn’t lie, couldn’t deceive myself or his feelings. At that time, I couldn’t give him what he wanted... but my life? That was something I could give. It wasn’t important. My death wouldn't have saddened anyone."

Every day, he refined medicines alone, read alone, researched alone, cultivated alone, gazed at clouds alone...

Whether he lived or died made no difference. No one cared.

His soul fragment in the other world had it worse—afflicted with untreatable conditions, a hopeless future, and the immense suffering he inflicted on his family. Everyone forced smiles in front of him, but how could they truly accept it? His parents wept in secret, his sister abandoned her dreams to care for him, and he was nothing but trouble for them. He learned to pretend strength and bravery, to convince them he was fine. But lying in that hospital bed, he realized his death was the only way to free them from pain and let them find happiness again.

After leaving that world, he forbade himself from missing them.

No one needed him alive.

No one...

Yue Wuhuan stood shocked. He had never imagined that Song Qingshi—always so gentle and encouraging—had ever thought this way.

For the first time, he realized he hadn’t truly understood this seemingly simple man.

No, it couldn’t be...

Yue Wuhuan began to panic, sensing control slipping away.

"Don’t worry, that was before I met you," Song Qingshi quickly reassured him, sensing his unease. "After knowing you, I gained purpose. I wouldn’t do something so foolish again. I want to walk forward with you... I won’t entertain those stupid thoughts anymore..."

Yue Wuhuan’s breathing grew ragged as he stiffly comforted, "You’re not stupid."

"No, I really am. Thinking back now, An Long’s intentions had many warning signs, but I rationalized them away." Song Qingshi’s guilt deepened as he apologized repeatedly. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to... I was just... envious. I envied those with friends—people to go shopping with, attend festivals with, squabble over small things, laugh together over silly things... So I overlooked the warning signs and humored him..."

In this world, his natural toxic fire drove everyone away—no one dared speak to him, let alone befriend him.

In the other world, his delicate constitution made people afraid to get too close, treating him with pity but never true friendship.

Not once was he invited to movies, shopping trips, internet cafés, parties, karaoke, or sports...

Occasionally, someone unaware would try to get close, but his social awkwardness would quickly scare them off.

Gradually, he gave up hoping...

Yue Wuhuan felt his usually nimble tongue tied, only able to repeat the same empty reassurance: "You're not foolish."

"Don’t worry, I won’t say these sad things anymore," Song Qingshi noticed Yue Wuhuan seemed upset and quickly forced a smile. After a pause, he added awkwardly, "Actually, I should have known long ago. A person like me... who would ever want to be friends with me?"

His eyes crinkled with a smile, but tears welled up uncontrollably, rolling down his cheeks.

"Hm?" Song Qingshi noticed the tears, confused. He wiped them away while still smiling. "It’s fine, I’m not sad, not at all. Don’t worry..."

Suddenly, his voice trailed off.

His slow understanding finally grasped the feeling in his heart.

But this feeling was illogical—he couldn’t allow it.

He was strong. He wasn’t afraid of pain. He wouldn’t burden others. He could handle everything on his own...

Song Qingshi lowered his head, too ashamed to show such weakness.

"I’m sorry." Yue Wuhuan finally panicked. He reached out and pulled the crying man tightly into his arms. The muffled sobs pierced his soul with pain. Countless tears soaked his freshly changed robes, damp with sorrow. He lowered his head, soothing the trembling back, trying to apologize. "I shouldn’t have made you sad."

Song Qingshi whispered, "It’s not your fault. Truth doesn’t vanish just because I ignore it."

He would remain strong, but right now, he couldn’t control his emotions.

"Wu Huan, let me cry for a little while, okay?"

"Mhm. I’ll stay with you. Always."

"Wu Huan... am I ridiculous?"

"No. You’ll never be ridiculous."

"..."

The dark clouds gradually dispersed, the rain slowed, and sunlight broke through once more.

Fail, reflect. Fail, try again...

If you wallow in the sorrow of failure, you’ll forever miss the most beautiful scenery.

Song Qingshi took a long time to finally stop his tears, compose himself, and stand up again.

Yue Wuhuan watched him with concern.

"I’m fine now," Song Qingshi said, his voice firm despite the residual sadness. "Since it’s a mistake, it must be corrected. I don’t have those feelings for An Long. I can’t give him what he wants, nor can I forgive what he did. So... I will cut ties with him completely."

Yue Wuhuan fell silent.

The wolf’s mask had been exposed, banished forever.

The Master would stay away from danger, return to the Medicine King Valley, and live a peaceful life.

He ought to be happy. So why couldn’t he smile?

He even felt the urge to tear apart the meticulously spun web himself...

Yue Wuhuan spoke without thinking, "I’ll treat you twice as well from now on. I won’t let you feel sad or hurt again."

Song Qingshi looked up in surprise.

"I’ll go to festivals with you, wander through markets, go on adventures—do all sorts of fun things." Yue Wuhuan had no idea what he was saying. None of this was part of his plans. It was all wrong. But he couldn’t control his heart or his mouth, pouring out promise after promise. "Whatever you like, I’ll do it with you—watching clouds, reading, experiments, traveling, playing, playing music... You won’t be lonely."

Song Qingshi gazed at him in disbelief, his vision blurring again with tears.

His Nascent Soul throbbed with pain, but he didn’t care.

Yue Wuhuan reached up and gently wiped his tears away. "Don’t be sad. You deserve the best."

He wanted to give him the most flawless jewel, the most exquisite bloom, the most perfect person.

He wanted him to be happy, free from worries, free from pain...

Song Qingshi couldn’t help but smile. He touched his still-swollen lips, suddenly remembering last night’s chaotic, desperate kisses. Wary of another misunderstanding, he asked cautiously, "You once said... your feelings for me were the same as An Long’s. If An Long wasn’t a friend... then what does that make you?"

Yue Wuhuan froze.

He finally remembered his own mad, terrifying desires—the shameful thoughts that could never see the light.

Song Qingshi asked earnestly, "Wu Huan... are you my friend?"

Yue Wuhuan went rigid.

Simple words, one by one, breached his heart’s defenses.

It was as if he saw his grave yawning before him and heard the knell of the funeral bell.