Chapter 107

When Song Qingshi awoke, he found it was late. He gazed drowsily at the furnishings of the guest room in the Tianwu Sect, momentarily disoriented as to his whereabouts. It wasn't until he noticed the lamp on the table, crafted from a luminous pearl by the Heavenly Crafts Workshop rather than an oil lamp or candle, that he fully roused.

In a panic, he leaped from bed, barefoot, searching frantically. Then he saw him: draped in a scarlet brocade robe, reclining languidly on the daybed by the window. The disguise was long shed, moonlight spilling over a face of exquisite beauty. His dark, golden phoenix eyes held deep pools of shadow, and his slightly curled long hair was casually tied behind his ears. The youthful air was gone, replaced by a much taller, more commanding presence...

Was this Feng Jun, Mo Yuan, or Wu Huan...?

Song Qingshi cautiously approached, dipping his finger into the spirit tea, intending to write a question on the table.

"You can speak now," the man said, emerging from his thoughts as he watched Song Qingshi's efforts to write.

Only then did Song Qingshi realize he was no longer mute. He uttered a few "ah" sounds, testing his voice. It took him considerable time to regain his speech. After a long pause, he softly called out, "Wu... Wu Huan..."

This was the only name he truly wished to utter.

The Divine Lord no longer denied it, simply taking Song Qingshi's hand gently, holding it tightly in his palm.

"I'm sorry," Song Qingshi began, recognizing the familiar gesture and realizing the other knew what he had done within the Mo Yuan Magic Formation. Inside the formation, he had stubbornly persisted through hundreds of tasks, driven by a dull ache in his heart. Now that it was over, he finally felt the full agony of those hundreds of failures—a dull throb at first, then deepening, cutting straight to his core. He whimpered, fighting back tears, but they surged uncontrollably. Finally, he broke into sobs, "I'm sorry, I was too stupid. I tried so hard, but I just couldn't solve that problem... I'm sorry, I made you suffer so much..."

He wept incoherently, unsure of what he was saying.

"Don't be sad. I'm back," the Divine Lord said, understanding Song Qingshi needed to release his pent-up emotions. He didn't try to stop him, merely pulled him close, gently stroking his back, patiently waiting for him to cry out all the pain from his memories and fully return to reality.

Song Qingshi cried for a long time before gradually quieting...

He clutched the warm hand tightly, assuring himself this person was still beside him, not lost. His eyes were brimming with questions.

"After entering the formation, I wasn't given any random tasks. I was directly placed in Wu Huan's body. I knew this was my past self and loathed that identity and circumstance. I originally intended to leave immediately, but when I saw you arrive, I stayed. After that, it was like watching a drama unfold—experiencing it scene by scene, feeling it, yet unable to control the story's development or my actions." Seeing Song Qingshi finally calm, the Divine Lord slowly recounted his experience in the formation. "I watched you... trying so hard to save me, holding my hand, and my heart swelled with joy. When you agreed to the proposal and we became cultivation partners, I was ecstatic. I thought that even if Mo Yuan was doomed to madness and death, having experienced such happiness was enough. But I never expected the story to end like this... The pain was unbearable..."

Song Qingshi apologized again, "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize. You're not the one to blame," the Divine Lord took a deep breath. He had been wrestling with this question the entire time Song Qingshi was asleep. "The first time you failed, I was so consumed by anger. I hated fate, hated the task, even hated my past self. I wanted to smash the tiger brace, but then I saw you choose to start over again. I was surprised, and yet... I found myself wanting to see what you would do, so I stopped..."

And so, he watched as Song Qingshi started over again and again, failing each time...

The same beginning, different failures. Song Qingshi went in circles endlessly, never giving up on trying to save him.

What was the reason for the failures?

As his initial fury slowly subsided, he finally understood the true purpose of the Mo Yuan Magic Formation.

The person who knew himself best was himself.

The Mo Yuan Magic Formation wasn't a test for Song Qingshi—it was the answer Mo Yuan had left for himself.

"Being manipulated by so-called tasks and fate is heaven's injustice, but the unsolvable failure lies with me..." He knew Song Qingshi had long discovered this problem through countless repeated failures but had no way to solve it. "I like you very much. I'm willing to give you everything—my feelings, my life, my soul... But the one thing I didn't give you was trust."

He was too smart, too proud, too confident, too obsessed with perfection, so he couldn't face mistakes or failures.

He didn't believe in Song Qingshi's task, nor did he fully trust Song Qingshi's feelings for him, leading to an unsolvable ending.

The entity manipulating fate from behind the scenes exploited two small flaws in his personality—his perfectionism and his fastidious nature. As long as he was thrown into filthy darkness, it could effortlessly watch him trap himself again and again, loathing himself. Even if he encountered a chance at salvation, he would drag it down into the water, dragging each other down in misery.

How utterly foolish...

"Obsession stems from fear; avoidance stems from insecurity," the Divine Lord finally bared his soul, confronting the thick darkness within him. "I was afraid—afraid your feelings for me were just a beautiful mistake, afraid you would forget me once you found the right answer, afraid you would like someone else, afraid others would like you, and most afraid that one day you would realize what true perfection is and see my imperfections, then leave me in disappointment..."

Song Qingshi shook his head desperately, signaling he wouldn't.

Mo Yuan had perished in a frenzy of slaughter, but before death, he glimpsed the workings of fate. He realized the task Song Qingshi had spoken of was real, but it was too late to change anything. So he created this tiger brace, sealed his memories inside, and designed this unsolvable task.

The key to activating the task was Song Qingshi's two unique flames, but the target was his future self.

What Mo Yuan wanted himself to see was Song Qingshi's unwavering determination to save him, to pry open this stubborn and obstinate heart.

One hundred and twenty-seven cycles of the task.

No matter how difficult or painful the task was, whether he was blind or the filthy Wu Huan, no matter how dire his circumstances, whether beautiful or ugly, no matter how dark his heart, no matter how many mistakes he made—he was always the one chosen, the one treated with wholehearted devotion...

Song Qingshi had kept trying, striving to pull him out of the abyss.

So, don't be afraid. He will never abandon you...

The Divine Lord turned Song Qingshi's palm over, gently stroking the back of his hand. After a glance for permission, he imprinted the soul mark once more.

The twin peach blossom marks, deepened by lifetimes of bonds, were now so red they seemed to bleed.

He smiled, though it looked more like a grimace. "How many lifetimes have we been Dao companions to create such a mark?"

"I... I told you," Song Qingshi, still adjusting to speaking, struggled to articulate. "Wu Huan, I like you."

He was the most stubborn person in the world—once he liked something, he would never change.

Song Qingshi felt a little wronged. "I said it, so many times—that I liked you."

Anything said more than three times was important. He thought he had made himself clear, yet the other still didn't fully understand...

The Divine Lord counted. "In this world, you said it one hundred and eighty-four times."

He had remembered every single one.

Song Qingshi was stunned. He had lost some memories and couldn't recall many things clearly, but he didn't think he had said it that often...

The Divine Lord, recalling those pleasant memories, explained, "You liked saying it in bed."

Song Qingshi understood and confessed honestly, "I was probably begging for mercy..."

The Divine Lord froze.

Song Qingshi was so embarrassed he wanted to scratch the ground, but the words were already out. He could only explain, "They say men shouldn't admit they can't handle things in bed, so... I couldn't say it directly..."

From Mo Yuan's memories, he had learned a painful lesson—Sword Cultivators were relentless in everything they did. Early on, when his cultivation wasn't high and he hadn't trained his body, he had been pushed to his limits, unable to even speak. Several times, he had nearly passed out by the end. He had even considered carving those words onto a wooden plaque as a subtle hint, hoping the other would go easier on him out of affection... but it felt too strange, so he never did that foolish thing. Later, he improved his cultivation and tempered his body with medicine to adapt.

Having confessed the truth, Song Qingshi felt his dignity as a man crumble. He lowered his head, face burning red.

The Divine Lord was amused, and the heavy atmosphere dissipated instantly.

Seeing the other stifling laughter, Song Qingshi's face turned even redder. He hurriedly promised, "I'll train my body properly."

"Mm. I'm not afraid anymore. No matter how many tasks, how many cycles, I'll believe you'll come for me, save me," the Divine Lord stopped laughing and said seriously. "Qing Shi, from now on, I'll trust your feelings, trust every word you say. I won't sabotage your tasks anymore... So, let's try being completely open with each other, share everything, and join hands to break free from this disgusting fate."

Song Qingshi solemnly promised, "If the task fails, I'll turn to ashes with you."

The Divine Lord thought for a long time before replying, "Okay."

"The first step to honesty," Song Qingshi raised the most important question, "Tell me, what is your real name?"

A name was crucial. Whether Mo Yuan or Feng Jun, they were all products of cowardice, unable to face the past.

If he couldn't face the darkness, face his true self, he would forever remain trapped by it, toyed with by this vile fate.

The Divine Lord hesitated for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle:

"My name is Yue Wuhuan."

No sooner had he spoken, the boy's soft lips met his, then he exclaimed joyfully:

"Wuhuan, I like you."

"Wuhuan, I like you."

"Wuhuan, I like you."

Important things deserve to be said three times.

This time, don't get it wrong again.

We'll make it work together.