The spiritual power from shattered Tianyan fell like a blessing. The chasms torn open by “Abandoned Immortal Bone” slowly closed, mountains restored. Though late autumn should have meant mountains covered in fallen leaves, after the spiritual rain, everything was lush and verdant.
Like spring returning to earth.
In just a few steps, tender green vines had grown on the Xi family earth vein’s stone steps, silently climbing the mottled walls.
Sheng Jiao descended the stone steps to see, deep in the empty earth vein, Yan Jianlan kneeling on the ground holding warm yellow robes, heavy snow covering his shoulders, staring blankly into the void, lost in thought.
Hearing footsteps, Yan Jianlan turned slightly to look.
Sheng Jiao slowly walked to his side, crouched down, and gently stroked the undried tear tracks on Yan Jianlan’s face.
Due to Tianyan origin’s complete disappearance, the Tianyan in all xiangwen-bearing cultivators throughout the Thirteen States was slowly vanishing, or rather, fully merging with their spiritual roots.
Within three days, there would be no trace of Tianyan left in the Thirteen States.
The “Abandoned Immortal Bone” in Yan Jianlan’s body had been resolved, half of “Sound Of Leisure” slowly merging into his meridians. Dim voices in his ears weren’t very clear. He made some expression, only tilting his head expressionlessly and gently nuzzling Sheng Jiao’s palm.
Sheng Jiao had previously struggled to perceive emotions, only able to discern others’ joys and sorrows from expressions and reactions. But now a nameless emotion swept through his heart, keenly sensing Yan Jianlan’s grief.
“Let’s go,” Sheng Jiao said. “Go home.”
Yan Jianlan held Yu Tuishan’s empty robes, dazedly helped up by Sheng Jiao.
He lowered his eyes to look at the patterns on the warm yellow clothes, closed them slightly, then suddenly used spiritual power to ignite flames. With a “whoosh,” the robes burned.
Flames licked along the fabric inch by inch, instantly turning into a small handful of ash in his palm. Yan Jianlan collected it in a small jade vial.
After finishing this, Yan Jianlan belatedly sensed the surrounding shattered Tianyan spiritual power, inexplicably melancholy.
In an instant, the backlash from “Abandoned Immortal Bone” and the mental exhaustion from losing loved ones overwhelmed his entire body. Yan Jianlan, as if unable to support himself any longer, suddenly staggered and collapsed.
In his daze, Sheng Jiao seemed to catch him. Yan Jianlan opened his lips to say something, but his entire body was utterly exhausted. Before he could utter a single word, his consciousness completely vanished.
The “Abandoned Immortal Bone” array made a grand spectacle, but in the end only bloomed into a magnificent, brilliant firework.
However, the commotion of Tianyan shooting from the ground to the sky still caused countless mountains to crack and collapse. Xiezhi Sect and the Punishment Court spent a full three days thoroughly cleaning up the aftermath.
Yan Jianlan remained drowsy throughout, like someone who had traveled thousands upon thousands of miles on foot and finally found a resting place, sleeping deeply.
When his consciousness gradually awakened from the dark abyss inch by inch, only his eyes could move throughout his entire body. His hands and feet seemed fixed, his meridians numb from sleep.
Outside the weather had cleared. Warm morning sun shone through the half-open carved window, filtered through thin white gauze to soften the glaring light, warmly falling on Yan Jianlan’s face, heating the brocade quilt pleasantly.
Judging by the osmanthus tree outside the window, this should be Qingcheng Residence at Xiezhi Sect, but the bed, brocade quilt, and outside decorations had all completely changed. Fortunately, a sprig of osmanthus was placed on the small bedside table, its scent still bringing Yan Jianlan peace.
Yan Jianlan’s whole body was limp, not wanting to move at all. He didn’t mind when Sheng Jiao had changed all his decorations—if it were normally, he would definitely raise hell.
He opened his eyes, staring at the tassels hanging from the bed curtain, his mind a complete blank, thoughts unknown.
After lying there for a short while, the door was pushed open with a “creak.”
Sheng Jiao, dressed in the black robes of the Xiezhi Sect, walked in slowly. As usual, he pulled back the bed curtains and was visibly startled to see Yan Jianlan awake. “You’re awake.”
Yan Jianlan gave a vague “Mmh.”
“The weather is nice.” Sheng Jiao sat on the edge of the bed, tidying Yan Jianlan’s messy long hair, and said, “Want to go for a walk?”
Yan Jianlan yawned and said lazily, “Tired. Don’t feel like moving.”
Sheng Jiao said, “You slept for four days.”
having just woken from a deep sleep, Yan Jianlan was a bit slow. He let out an “Oh” and said, “No wonder I’m so tired, and it hurts a lot.”
Sheng Jiao paused slightly.
Previously, even when preparing for the bonding ceremony, Yan Jianlan would wrap himself up tightly, never voluntarily speaking of pain or suffering. Even when Sheng Jiao, controlled by the Heavenly Dao, pierced his waist and abdomen with the Winter Snow Sword, leaving him half-soaked in blood, he still acted as if nothing had happened, claiming it didn’t hurt.
For some reason, at this moment, he seemed to have no strength left to maintain that glass-like disguise, nor any energy to support his convoluted schemes, only knowing to whisper softly that he was in pain.
Sheng Jiao held his breath, leaned down slightly, and asked softly, “Where does it hurt?”
“My spiritual root hurts.” Yan Jianlan was incredibly obedient, his eyes half-open and listless. “My waist and abdomen hurt, and my face hurts too.”
Sheng Jiao touched Yan Jianlan’s cheek. The cut there had already healed, leaving a faint scar that would likely take a few more days to vanish completely.
“Abandoned Immortal Bone” had forcibly widened his meridians. Even though the poison was resolved, the backlash from that brief period of Great Ascension cultivation still brought him immense suffering.
While Yan Jianlan was unconscious, Lezheng Jiu and Madam Wan had already come to examine him, leaving behind a pile of spiritual pills that Sheng Jiao had forcibly fed him over these four days.
Seeing Yan Jianlan constantly complaining of pain, Sheng Jiao frowned deeply. After circulating spiritual power through his meridians for half a cycle, he raised his hand to untie Yan Jianlan’s sash.
Yan Jianlan had been wearing a thin inner shirt these past few days, and the sash was loosely tied; a simple tug would undo it.
After speaking a few words, Yan Jianlan finally regained some strength. Seeing Sheng Jiao untie his sash and part his messy robes, he didn’t stop him, only yawning lazily: “Sect Master Sheng, declaring lust in broad daylight, isn’t that a bit improper?”
Sheng Jiao: “…”
If it were before, the cold-faced and cold-hearted Sect Master Sheng wouldn’t have bothered listening to his flirtatious nonsense and would have continued doing whatever needed to be done. But this time, he unexpectedly froze.
Yan Jianlan’s clothes were pulled half open, revealing a glimpse of a snow-white waist. He was just running his mouth, patiently waiting for Sheng Jiao to check the wound on his waist.
But after waiting a long time, he looked up only to see Sect Master Sheng frozen in place, brows furrowed, his hand hovering over his waist and abdomen, momentarily unsure whether to advance or retreat.
Yan Jianlan mumbled: “Sheng Jiao?”
Sheng Jiao snapped back to reality. As if nothing had happened, he lifted the thin shirt, his large palm gently gripping Yan Jianlan’s side, carefully stroking the scar that had already scabbed over.
Yan Jianlan couldn’t help but shiver, involuntarily pulling away to the side, mumbling: “It… it doesn’t hurt anymore. Don’t touch, it’s all scabbed and healed.”
Sheng Jiao turned a deaf ear, rubbing firmly with his fingertips.
Yan Jianlan was touched until his whole body went numb, and his limbs were no longer weak. He propped himself up on the bed, buried his head, brushed Sheng Jiao’s hand away, and messy retied his sash, even tying it into a dead knot.
Sheng Jiao looked at him.
“Stop messing around.” Yan Jianlan coughed and said, “Let’s talk business first. I need to draw out the Spring Rain sword intent from your body—why didn’t you wake me up instead of letting me sleep for four days? Doesn’t the sword intent in your meridians hurt?”
Sheng Jiao would never make a sound no matter how heavy the injury. He shook his head coldly.
Spring Rain’s sword intent was sharp and frigid. In flesh wounds, spiritual power might heal it, but this time it was rushing through the meridians with icy killing intent. Even though Sheng Jiao was at the Great Ascension stage, it likely wasn’t pleasant.
Yan Jianlan pressed his fingers against the vital gate on Sheng Jiao’s wrist. Just as he was about to channel spiritual power to draw out the Spring Rain sword intent, a sharp pain shot through his inner palace. The backlash injury hadn’t fully recovered; his face instantly went pale, and he covered his lips, nearly vomiting blood.
Sheng Jiao’s expression changed, his hand gripping Yan Jianlan’s forearm tightly: “You…”
“I… I’m fine.” Yan Jianlan forcibly suppressed the bloody taste in his throat and shook his head. “I just pushed the spiritual power too hard at once. I’ll be fine after a moment.”
Despite his words, Sheng Jiao refused to let him risk drawing out the Spring Rain sword intent again. Face grim, he pressed Yan Jianlan back onto the bed and said in a low voice, “Lie down.”
Yan Jianlan was still tugging at his sleeve, as if he had finally found something he could do, his expression inexplicably urgent: “Let me try again, Sheng Jiao…”
“I’ll call Madam Wan over.” Sheng Jiao interrupted him forcefully, saying coldly, “I’ve suppressed the sword intent; there won’t be any issues for now.”
What was most critical now were the injuries Yan Jianlan had accumulated over the years.
More than a decade of erosion from the Endless Period, the tiger-wolf poison “Abandoned Immortal Bone” used to briefly boost cultivation, plus the three months of inhumane torture at the Xiezhi Sect back then—Yan Jianlan’s frail body finally couldn’t hold on anymore. Even with the poison neutralized and injuries healed, his body couldn’t return to its original state.
Yan Jianlan’s exhaustion wasn’t from sleeping too much, but a weariness and dejection emanating from his marrow and soul.
He was no longer vibrant and joking, but wilted like a frosted eggplant, listless.
Yan Jianlan looked at Sheng Jiao blankly. Just being refused seemed like a major blow, his lips trembling.
“I just wanted to…”
Sheng Jiao didn’t speak, turning to leave.
Yan Jianlan stared blankly at his retreating back.
Although his subconscious screamed to immediately draw out the Spring Rain sword intent, his body seemed separated from his soul. He tried with all his might to be as domineering as usual, but his mind was filled with exhausted dejection.
When Sheng Jiao returned after communicating with the Medicine Sect via the rhinoceros horn lamp, he saw that Yan Jianlan had closed his eyes and fallen asleep again, an unprecedented fatigue surfacing on his pale face.
Great vengeance exacted, the most hated Tianyan destroyed—Yan Jianlan’s lifelong pursuits were merely these two things.
The drive that had sustained him since he was ten, fueling his ruthless determination to survive by any means necessary, quietly dissipated. Yan Jianlan seemed lost, unsure of what to live for in the future.
For Sheng Jiao?
“But how to live for that?” Yan Jianlan thought muddledly in his daze. “I don’t know.”
For the past twelve years, he had carried a heavy mountain on his back, struggling forward step by step through countless hardships. That burden, which had nearly crushed him countless times, suddenly vanished one day.
Yan Jianlan felt lost and adrift, vaguely finding everything meaningless.
In the past twelve years, even in his dreams, Yan Jianlan always wanted to strategize regardless of everything, never letting anything slip from his control.
But now, in his dreams, he was like a piece of duckweed, lucidly letting himself drift with the current, completely unwilling to struggle anymore.
After sleeping muddledly, he woke up again as the sun was setting.
A faint scent of medicine wafted over. Yan Jianlan looked up dazedly.
Madam Wan sat by the bed taking his pulse. Seeing him awake, she smiled gently and said, “Linger is awake. Do your meridians still hurt?”
Yan Jianlan seemed dazed from sleep, whispering, “Mother?”
Madam Wan paused, reaching out to gently stroke the tear tracks at the corner of Yan Jianlan’s eyes.
Yan Jianlan looked through tear-blurred eyes for a long time before gradually sobering up. Perhaps feeling embarrassed, he struggled slightly to sit up, messily wiped the corners of his eyes, and tried hard to squeeze out a smile.
“Why is Madam here?”
Madam Wan said, “Sect Master Sheng said your injuries haven’t fully healed, so I came to treat you.”
“No.” Yan Jianlan shook his head. “I’m perfectly fine.”
When Madam Wan first examined him, she knew his injuries weren’t serious. Taking spiritual pills and transferring spiritual power would heal him completely in a few days. But she had always been perceptive, carefully watching Yan Jianlan’s expression.
“Linger?” she asked softly. “What are you thinking about?”
Yan Jianlan was staring blankly, snapping back to reality with confusion: “I wasn’t thinking about anything.”
Madam Wan’s eyes dimmed slightly.
Yan Jianlan’s appearance wasn’t the daze of just waking up, but a listless dejection emanating from his very soul.
This feeling was very familiar.
Yu Tuishan had looked much the same back then.
**
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152