Chapter 265: Dream

Chapter 265: Dreamscape

There was no time left.

Xie Shu paused, his hand remaining suspended mid-air as Song Xiaoyu tumbled over the cliff's edge, his sobs trailing behind him as he plunged downward. The wind carried his fading cries upward until they dissolved into nothingness.

The Baibu Pavilion Cliff stood a thousand feet high—even birds failed to cross it. For a living soul to fall from such heights meant inescapable death.

"..."

Xiao Wu braced against the pavilion pillar, then collapsed to his knees.

As if drained of all vitality, he could no longer hold himself upright. His eyes, clouded and vacant, mirrored the lifeless shell he'd become—the last traces of animation devoured, leaving only hollow flesh.

When Xiao Wu first arrived at Wuwang Palace, he'd been like this already—a breath from death, devoid of spirit. Xie Shu had spent years rehabilitating him, coaxing back a fragile spark of life.

Now even that glimmer had vanished, as though it, like "Song Xiaoyu," had shattered upon the palace's merciless cliffs.

Xie Shu turned toward the illusion.

His script demanded one final line: "I have kept my promise as Palace Lord, sending Song Xiaoyu beyond these walls. Does this satisfy you, Immortal Lord?"

But Xiao Wu didn't look at him. Lashes like raven's feathers cast shadows over unfocused eyes, his gaze fixed on nothing.

So Xie Shu held his tongue.

The deviation remained within the system's tolerance. An imperceptible sigh escaped him. "Immortal Lord, come. I shall destroy your meridians."

Xiao Wu might have been deaf. He knelt before the pavilion like a discarded puppet, as though the sentence pronounced concerned some stranger in the street.

Xie Shu stepped forward, slid an arm beneath his knees, and lifted him.

At the hot springs, Xiao Wu had protested being carried. Now he hung as lifeless as a corpse, offering neither resistance nor assent.

The return path led across the Carp's Back—a razor-thin ridge between sheer cliffs where ordinary men trembled with fear, clinging to the stone for dear life. Yet as Xie Shu carried him, Xiao Wu couldn't be troubled to glance downward, as though a fatal drop would scarcely merit a whimper.

Xie Shu exhaled soundlessly.

Bitter winds howled across the Carp's Back. Though his burden made no complaint, Xiao Wu's hand proved cold as death when touched.

"Immortal Lord," Xie Shu murmured, "do you feel the chill?"

Silence.

Xie Shu adjusted his fox-fur mantle, draping its warmth around Xiao Wu. The soft pelt retained Xie Chunshan's body heat, and when that warmth touched skin, Xiao Wu's eyelids fluttered once before closing again. The ghost of a sneer flickered at his lips, there and gone.

How rich—that the man who fussed over his comfort would also ruin his meridians, deaf to all entreaties.

They said demons followed their whims, but Xie Chunshan's cruelty chilled the bone.

His own fault, for misjudging this man. For clinging to delusions even now.

Xie Shu marked the expression but spoke no rebuke, merely tightening the mantle and drawing him nearer.

Beyond the Carp's Back, Wuwang Palace's main hall loomed. At the path's end stood Xue Sui, bowing low.

He'd come to report.

Having retrieved Song Xiaoyu from the transfer array, Xue Sui had bundled him into a carriage and departed without pause. Returning posthaste, he halted mid-stride at the sight of Lord Pingwu cradled in his master's arms—his mission momentarily forgotten.

When the Palace Lord glanced his way, Xue Sui silently swallowed his words and simply made a "done" gesture, indicating he had already settled Song Xiaoyu properly.

Xie Shu acknowledged with a hum. "Call for Wu Buke and the Mad Pharmacist. Prepare hot water, gauze, and medicine."

Xue Sui bowed and withdrew.

Not long after, Xie Shu carried Xiao Wu back to the main hall, where incense burners and warm braziers had long been lit. The scent of agarwood mingled with faint traces of frankincense, filling the air with a drowsy warmth.

Xie Shu shook out the brocade quilt and bundled Xiao Wu into it, carefully tucking him in.

Xiao Wu remained silent with closed eyes, as if indifferent to everything around him and uncaring of what Xie Shu might do. He lay stiffly beneath the quilt, his lashes still damp with unshed tears.

Xie Shu reached out and wiped them away.

Moments later, Wu Buke and the Mad Pharmacist presented themselves. A servant brought a pot of dark brown medicinal liquid, which Wu Buke poured into a bowl and presented respectfully with both hands. "Palace Lord, the numbing draught is prepared."

This medicine could temporarily numb the senses, inducing drowsiness and dulling pain. Since Xie Shu intended to sever Xiao Wu’s meridians—an agony beyond bearing—he needed to administer the draught first.

Xie Shu acknowledged with a hum and took the bowl. He checked the temperature with his wrist, found it suitable, then lifted a white porcelain spoon to Xiao Wu’s lips.

Xiao Wu kept his eyes shut, allowing the medicine to linger at his lips like a lifeless doll.

Xie Shu spoke softly. "My lord, you must drink this. The pain of severed meridians is not something easily endured."

Xiao Wu turned his head away in silent refusal.

Xie Shu set the bowl back on the tray. "Immortal Lord, today, these meridians must be severed—whether you are awake or unconscious. Why must you endure this needlessly?"

Only then did Xiao Wu lift his eyelids, sneering coldly. "Just do it, Palace Lord. Why waste words on me?"

His face was that of a man who only wished to die.

Xie Shu sighed. "A shame. But today, you’ll drink this—whether you like it or not."

With that, he pressed his fingers against Xiao Wu’s pressure points, using the same immobilizing hold as earlier to restrain him. Then, pinching Xiao Wu’s jaw open, he forcibly poured the medicine down his throat.

This was not Xie Shu’s first time doing this, and he was well-practiced. Yet Xiao Wu resisted fiercely this time, splashing half the medicine over Xie Shu’s robes, even leaving faint brown streaks against Xie Chunshan’s pale wrist and cheek.

Everyone in Wuwang Palace knew how much the Palace Lord despised sticky, clinging substances.

Wu Buke and the Mad Pharmacist froze in terror, wishing the floor would swallow them, terrified of incurring their lord’s wrath. But Xie Shu remained unshaken, his grip firm. Unflinching, he continued spooning the medicine into Xiao Wu’s mouth despite his resistance, not stopping until the bowl was empty. Only then did he release the restraint.

The bitter draught burned in Xiao Wu’s throat, forced down against his will. The moment the restraint lifted, he shoved Xie Shu’s hand away, covering his mouth as he was wracked with coughing.

Xie Shu had once read in *Lolita* that the three things a person could never hide were "poverty, love, and coughing." If poverty and love could still be concealed, coughing was impossible to suppress. No matter how coldly Xiao Wu maintained his corpse-like demeanor, he couldn’t hide this.

He coughed so violently it seemed his lungs might tear free, his eyes red-rimmed as fresh tears gathered. Then, gripping the edge of Xie Shu’s bed, he retched painfully.

The strain bowed Xiao Wu’s back, his chest heaving violently. His frame was gaunt, the outline of his vertebrae faintly visible beneath his white robes, his shoulder blades sharp beneath his robes, like wings straining to break free.

Xie Shu hesitated before reaching out, gently rubbing his back, as one might calm a spooked horse.

Xiao Wu jerked away, gritting his teeth. "Get away. Don’t touch me."

Xie Shu withdrew his hand. "...Immortal Lord, be careful."

The fight left Xiao Wu’s ears and eyes flushed with fury, lending him a fleeting vitality that dispelled his earlier lifelessness. Between gasping coughs, he spat out words. "Xie Chunshan—*cough*—you—*cough*—you...!"

After all, he was a noble and upright gentleman. Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to utter any vulgar curses.

Fearing that Xiao Wu might work himself into a rage, Xie Shu took over: "Xie Chunshan—this wolf-hearted, dog-gutted, lower than swine, treacherous, cruel, beast in human guise..."

As he spoke, he seized the moment when Xiao Wu was stunned, parted his bloodless lips, and slipped in a piece of candied fruit.

Xiao Wu coughed fit to shake the heavens.

With the fruit in his mouth, true to Lord Pingwu’s refinement, Xiao Wu couldn’t spit it out publicly yet couldn’t swallow it. He pressed his lips tight, looking ready to choke on the preserved fruit.

Xie Shu counted: "Three."

Xiao Wu lifted his gaze. Xie Shu continued: "Two."

"One."

As the last number fell, Lord Pingwu suddenly frowned and closed his eyes.

Xie Shu caught his limp body, drew the brocade quilt over him, and tucked him in.

—The numbing powder had taken effect.

Xie Shu extended one of Xiao Wu’s wrists onto the pulse pillow, signaling the Pharmacist: "Examine his pulse. Mark which meridians must be severed."

Under the Palace Lord’s authority, even the Mad Pharmacist shed his madness, stepping forward meekly. He felt the pulse through a silk handkerchet, then tremblingly indicated: "My Lord, by this unworthy one’s judgment, these meridians..."

The powder’s effects were short-lived. Should Xiao Wu wake mid-procedure, Xie Shu would have to make him swallow another dose. He nodded curtly: "Begin."

The three began their work.

Xie Shu, with the highest martial skill, severed meridians fastest. The Mad Pharmacist, knowing the Art’s requirements, minimized damage. Wu Buke, most skilled in medicine, stood ready to intervene.

Thus, a brutal meridians severing became a precise surgical procedure.

By completion, both Wu Buke and the Mad Pharmacist were drenched in cold sweat.

The Mad Pharmacist bowed deeply: "My Lord, have Lord Pingwu practice this unworthy one’s cultivation Art with herbal remedies. Within a year, his meridians will begin channeling qi again."

Xie Shu nodded.

He knew Xiao Wu’s talent better than the Pharmacist.

In truth, it wouldn’t take a year. After Song Xiaoyu’s death, Xiao Wu’s cultivation progressed a thousand li in a day. Within months, his qi reformed. Then on a night when the moon shone bright and stars were few, he left under moonlight from Hundred-Step Pavilion. By Song Xiaoyu’s next "death anniversary," he’d become a known unaffiliated cultivator in both immortal and demonic paths.

Perhaps demonic cultivation barred his return to immortal sects—Xiao Wu never went back to Shangling Sect after leaving Wuwang Palace, nor resumed being Lord Pingwu. He hid his face under a veiled bamboo hat, dwelling incognito in a humble hut at Zhongnan Mountain’s foot.

Now with meridians severed, most of the story’s events had unfolded. Only qi reconstitution remained.

Xie Shu waved: "Leave."

The Mad Pharmacist and Wu Buke let out long breaths of relief before bowing out.

As doors closed behind them, the chamber fell silent but for the clepsydra’s intermittent drips.

Xiao Wu slept fitfully.

Though the powder blunted the pain, severed meridians still ached—like the pain of a wound after numbness fades. His brows knit tightly, as if trapped in nightmare.

Soon he stirred. Xie Shu reached to steady him, but Xiao Wu instinctively caught his hand, fingers brushing his palm like seeking comfort before twining them together tightly.

His palms were clammy with sweat.

Xie Shu let him hold on, while with his other hand, he took a towel, wet and wrung out, before gently wiping away the sweat from his forehead and palms—just as "Song Xiaoyu" had once done for Xiao Wu, using his sleeve to wipe the blood from his brow.

Xie Shu’s movements were slow and tender. Xiao Wu must have been suffering badly, for the moment the sweat was wiped away, more would bead up. Xie Shu patiently tended to him, wiping again and again.

Perhaps it was Xie Shu’s gentle motions, or perhaps the soothing and pain-relieving incense burning in the room, but after half an hour of this, the tension in his brow eased, and his breathing gradually steadied.

He had fallen into a deep sleep.

The slumbering Lord Pingwu bore neither his usual aloof indifference nor the deathly despair from before. He lay quietly on Xie Shu’s pillow, his expression serene and peaceful, his sweat-soaked dark hair spread out and carefully dried by Xie Shu with the towel.

In this long-lost tranquility, the nightmare faded. Xiao Wu’s lips moved slightly, and he murmured a few words in his sleep.

Xie Shu leaned down and heard him whisper, "Xiao Yu."

Xie Shu hesitated a moment, sighed silently, then patted Xiao Wu’s hand reassuringly and said softly, "Immortal Lord, Xiao Yu is here."