That was the source of Yan Ling’s tragic life, and the night he most couldn’t bear to recall.
From then on, his life held only thunder and waiting for rain to stop.
But in ‘Falling Dream,’ from that icy aura mixed with osmanthus fragrance, Yan Ling drew a trace of the security he most desperately needed.
As if no matter how much suffering lay ahead, he finally wouldn’t bear it alone.
In the illusion, Yan Jianlan’s short twelve years held countless moments of fear. Though Sheng Jiao had learned the general outline from Madam Wan, when he truly witnessed as an outsider how ten-year-old Yan Ling was so brutally harmed, fury mixed with heartbreak nearly burned him to ashes.
Even more terrible was that he could only watch from the side, unable to interfere with anything.
Sheng Jiao had never felt his emotions fluctuate so violently, completely beyond control. Even unable to stop those people from poisoning Yan Ling, he still struggled to rush forward, desperately using his twelve-year-old body to shield Yan Ling tightly in his arms.
He was so thin, so small—Sheng Jiao could embrace him fully with open arms.
…As if he could shield him from any wind, rain, and suffering, protecting him so his carefree, heartless nature remained unchanged.
But he couldn’t.
Even though Sheng Jiao could appear in Yan Jianlan’s ‘Falling Dream,’ only young Yan Ling could see him.
Since his parents left, Yan Ling had never been protected by anyone.
Face full of tear tracks, he looked at Sheng Jiao shielding him tightly, eyes dazed. That cluster of fire hadn’t completely extinguished—it burned faintly like a lamp’s dim glow, watching Sheng Jiao.
Before clearly perceiving the seven emotions and six desires, Sheng Jiao was like cold stone, numb to all things in the world. At that time, cold-faced and cold-hearted, he didn’t know that pure emotions like pain and sorrow could cruelly “kill” a person.
Watching Yan Ling have his memories altered by the Xi family and enter Tianyan Academy, watching him laugh cheerfully during the day but look utterly confused at night facing his empty dormitory, while young Sheng Jiao just across the road was completely unaware of his suffering and torment.
Those traceable yet unnoticed details were like thorns buried deep in his heart, viciously pulled from flesh and blood in ‘Falling Dream,’ revealing gruesome, terrifying wounds.
Sheng Jiao had never known that the four words “powerlessness” could make him feel the agony of being slowly sliced to death.
He held the young Yan Ling in the illusion tightly, feeling his pain and collapse, wishing he could take his place.
The eight years in the illusion accelerated with Yan Jianlan’s “fear.” After hearing Yan Yue’s “thunder,” Yan Ling seemed to have nothing left to fear.
All tragedy and suffering forced upon him in just a few years made him stumble through blood to forge hard armor—nothing could break him anymore.
Sheng Jiao had thought so.
In the illusion, Yan Ling’s figure grew taller bit by bit. His face still held childishness, but those eyes seemed withered and dead, no longer stirred by anything.
Even if they were, it was pretense.
Times changed. After a distortion in the void, seventeen-year-old Yan Ling stood under an osmanthus tree in warm yellow robes, Rang Chen before him.
Sheng Jiao froze, initially not understanding why Rang Chen would be a source of Yan Ling’s fear.
Until Rang Chen’s silence vow broke, large mouthfuls of blood flowing from his mouth yet still persisting in telling Yan Ling:
“Sheng Jiao… will kill you.”
Sheng Jiao stiffened.
At that time, Yan Ling was full of joy, only thinking that after the Xi family matter settled, he would go into seclusion with Sheng Jiao to live the idyllic life they’d long imagined.
But Rang Chen’s casual words shattered all his fantasies.
Sheng Jiao had seen this scene in ‘Walking Karma,’ but hadn’t felt strong emotional fluctuations then—only heartache, not understanding empathy.
But now, he was so terrified he dared not look at Yan Jianlan’s expression.
In the dream, Yan Ling said nothing. Torrential rain poured down, the sky suddenly darkening.
On the day of the Xi family slaughter, Yan Ling wore magnificent robes, his drenched long hair loosely held up with an osmanthus flower. Standing in the heavy rain gripping Spring Rain Sword, he smiled at Madam Zong.
Blood sea all around, he seemed like a wandering ghost in the world, face deathly pale yet smiling gently and wickedly.
Madam Zong looked at him with resentment, saying coldly: “Wasn’t it you?”
Yan Ling tilted his head slightly: “Hmm? What did Mother say?”
Sheng Jiao paused slightly.
This was his first time seeing Yan Ling’s confrontation with Madam Zong. He’d thought that night Madam Zong simply died at Xi Jue’s hands.
“Mother?” Madam Zong’s sanity was nearly mad, saying coldly: “Didn’t your mother die long ago?”
Yan Ling’s face turned cold.
Madam Zong laughed loudly: “To protect your spirit-level xiangwen from being extracted, that cultivator couple actually died trying to stop the Xi family… Hahaha, Yan Ling, you killed your parents! If not for you, would they have died so miserably?”
Yan Ling’s hand gripping Spring Rain Sword tightened. Overwhelming killing intent swept through his body, shaking the osmanthus flowers from his hair, scattering onto his disheveled black locks.
Perhaps throwing caution to the wind, seeing him so moved, Madam Zong laughed recklessly and mockingly: “Hahaha, what’s the use of killing the entire Xi family? Your parents still died in that heavy rain because of your xiangwen and can’t come back! Your talk of revenge is just self-deception, finding an excuse to keep living.”
Yan Ling’s eyes showed momentary emptiness. His lips moved slightly but said nothing.
Icy cold wind mixed with heavy rain struck his face. Yan Ling shuddered violently, snapping awake.
He looked coldly at Madam Zong, hand gripping Spring Rain Sword loosening slightly, murmuring: “I won’t kill you.”
Madam Zong sneered: “You’ve already killed the entire Xi family—am I the only one missing?”
“No.” Yan Ling looked up slightly at the rumbling thunder on the horizon, his murmur seemingly completely drowned by the thunder, only his lip movements faintly visible.
“I won’t kill you.”
“I won’t kill you with my own hands.”
In an instant, a thunderbolt crashed down from the sky, as if to split the pitch-black sky.
Yan Ling’s whole body shuddered. Eyes scattered and hollow, his soul completely left his body.
Madam Zong knew Yan Ling’s soul would leave when hearing thunder, not understanding why he’d listen today. Just as she was stunned, that shell-like body was suddenly filled with a soul carrying Tianyan aura.
Madam Zong froze.
“Yan Ling” coughed dully, slowly opening dense lashes in the heavy rain.
Those deep, hollow black eyes had turned Tianyan’s brilliant gold.
Madam Zong stared blankly at him.
“Yan Ling”… Xi Jue looked at Madam Zong for a while, then suddenly tilted his head, face full of harmless liveliness and flamboyance, so familiar it was terrifying.
He called out cheerfully: “Mother.”
Madam Zong’s face instantly turned paper white.
She seemed to understand something.
Madam Zong had used Yan Hanque and Madam Zhao to devastate Yan Ling’s heart, so he dared risk his body being destroyed by a soul bearing “Kan Tianyan,” letting Xi Jue’s soul attach to him… just to make Madam Zong die at her own biological son’s hands.
This was Yan Ling’s revenge.
In the end, he got his wish. Madam Zong died with resentment and grief.
Yan Ling won, but like a beleaguered loser, after Xi Jue and Yan Yue left, he sat alone in the heavy rain, burying his head in the water, painfully murmuring:
“I killed my parents.”
If he didn’t have xiangwen, Yan Hanque and Madam Zhao wouldn’t have suffered because of him, wouldn’t have died in the cold, heavy rain.
Or rather…
It would be better if he didn’t exist.
If he hadn’t existed in this world, he wouldn’t have brought disaster to his parents.
Yan Jianlan silently buried his forehead in the pooled water, eyes empty—unable to cry even if he wanted to.
His tears seemed long dried, only a heart still beating against his will.
Sheng Jiao watched Yan Ling kneeling on the ground, wishing to drown himself in that small puddle, trembling uncontrollably. He stumbled forward to kneel beside Yan Ling, fingers trembling as he held his shoulders.
Yan Ling’s face was numb as he was helped up. Eyes vacant for a long time before he said “Oh,” emotionlessly: “Brother…”
His subconscious couldn’t distinguish whether this person was the real Sheng Jiao or the shadow-like “brother” who’d accompanied him through his most painful moments since childhood. He only felt utterly exhausted, wanting to hold him.
Sheng Jiao held him tightly. Though a thousand words surged in his heart, his throat seemed blocked—unable to make a sound.
After struggling a long time, he murmured, parting his lips word by word: “It’s not your fault.”
But the sin of killing his parents was too heavy—so heavy young Yan Ling couldn’t bear it alone. He leaned wearily in Sheng Jiao’s arms: “I don’t want this xiangwen anymore. Can my parents come back?”
He could even give up his life.
But what was lost could never be recovered.
The youth only felt tired, the faint light in his eyes seeming to fade.
Just as Sheng Jiao was about to speak, Yan Ling’s ‘Falling Dream’ seemed struck by impact. The surrounding void rumbled with deafening roars, nearly making Sheng Jiao vomit blood.
Sheng Jiao looked up sharply.
Yan Ling’s psyche was on the verge of collapse—’Falling Dream’ was about to crumble.
Lezheng Jiu had warned Sheng Jiao: once signs of complete collapse appeared in Yan Jianlan’s illusion, he must leave immediately. Otherwise, his soul could easily suffer severe damage, possibly even remaining trapped forever in Yan Ling’s chaotic inner demons, unable to escape for eternity.
Sheng Jiao gritted his teeth hard, watching the only escape route slowly closing.
The entire illusion was collapsing with Yan Jianlan’s breakdown. The Xi family mansion crumbled, falling inch by inch into the endless abyss below.
Everything began converging toward the center, collapsing downward.
Yan Ling still knelt there, eyes hollow and vacant.
Sheng Jiao knew this final fear at the Xi family was the last straw breaking Yan Ling.
Without Madam Zong’s words, perhaps Yan Ling would still have energy to live well.
But now, he didn’t even know how to find a reason to keep living.
Sheng Jiao knelt on one knee before Yan Ling, unafraid of the darkness constantly closing in, uncaring about the escape route about to seal completely. Amid the cacophony of collapsing heaven and earth, his voice was clear, as if piercing through chaos to reach Yan Ling’s muddled ears.
“Does living make you feel pain?”
Yan Ling’s eyes moved slightly, looking up at him in a daze.
Sheng Jiao wiped the water from his face and said softly: “Do you want release?”
“Yes.” Yan Ling murmured, but his brow furrowed again, seemingly not understanding what he was saying, just following instinct, utterly confused. “But also no.”
He still had attachments in this world.
Attachment to Yan Yue only made him remember how that youth covered in thorns died at Xi Ze’s hands because of his misjudgment;
Attachment to Zhuxing Zhai made him feel those four carefree years were stolen.
As for Sheng Jiao…
Yan Ling stared blankly at him: “I want to live for Sheng Jiao.”
But Sheng Jiao shook his head: “Don’t live for me.”
Yan Ling said again: “Then I’ll live for my parents.”
Yan Hanque and Madam Zhao sacrificed their lives to protect him. He should cherish the life his parents gave him.
But Sheng Jiao said: “Not for them either.”
Yan Ling froze, momentarily not knowing what to say.
“Then I… what should I do?”
Sheng Jiao paid no mind to the darkness that had collapsed to within three steps, his tone soft and gentle: “You’re not Sheng Jiao’s dao companion, not your parents’ son, not your companions’ friend. You are Yan Ling, Yan Jianlan. Only you can grant yourself the right to live.”
Young Yan Ling murmured, repeating Sheng Jiao’s words: “Myself…”
“Yes.”
“But it’s been so long…” Yan Ling thought of this and nearly cowered. “I haven’t had that for so long. I’m scared.”
“Don’t be afraid.”
In the illusion, no matter what fearful things Yan Ling encountered, Sheng Jiao was always by his side, gently saying those words “don’t be afraid.”
These two words seemed to reflexively grant Yan Ling that faint yet existing courage, his eyes seemingly gaining a trace of light.
“Don’t be afraid.” Yan Ling looked up at Sheng Jiao, murmuring: “I’m not afraid.”
Sheng Jiao met his gaze for a long time, then suddenly smiled.
Yan Ling’s eyes widened in shock.
The next moment, darkness surged over, completely collapsing where the two stood, plummeting into the bottomless abyss.
With a faint “thud.”
…The two broke through the darkness, falling into a riot of blooming flowers.
**
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152