Chapter 123: The Master Enters My Dreams, and I Will Remember You Forever

"Daoist Master Zhao, Daoist Master Li, you've all read the listings... the dark horse that emerged from the Lingshan Mountain Conference is really something."

In the teahouse on Pearl Beach, a few casual practitioners are talking about the hotter news of the jianghu than the hot tea over a plate of peanuts and a pot of hot tea.

"Of course I've been watching it for a long time. The winner was actually the Top of the Dead, a sect of Lower Fairy World, which pissed off the old men of Upper Fairy World. Especially the Confucianism School, ouch, I'm afraid their ancestors' coffin board will not be able to hold down the winning little Your Mightiness is called Xue Phoenix, right?"

"Ahahahahahaha, Xue Fenghuang Lao Zhao, you're killing me, Fenghuang is his nickname, his surname is Xue, his name is Meng, his name is Meng, his old son is Xue Zhengyong. His father is Xue Zhengyong. A tiger's father has no son, this Xue Meng is very good."

There was a tall man in a cloak sitting by the fire, drinking his own oil tea. When he heard them say this, the man suddenly gave a low "hmmm", his tea resting on his lips, not moving again.

"They say he's a phoenix's chick, and that's not true. All the other young masters have Shenwu, but he's so good that he can cut people off with a machete."

"Then you don't even see whose disciple he is Evening Yu Heng's disciple, can he be a vegetarian?"

"But I think it was a close win for Xue Meng. Haven't you heard that Xue Meng and Nangong Si fought it out in a two-way match, and if it wasn't for that girl Nangong Si was carrying, hey, if you ask me, it would have been a close call."

The man who had been listening to the words finally put down his hanging tea.

He looked back, his eyes were as sharp as lightning, his autumn water was frosty, and he had a very good complexion. He smiled at the monks and said, "Greetings, fellow monks. I was in the mountains some days ago, not knowing the morning and evening of the sun and moon, so I missed the Lingshan Mountain Conference. I was curious to hear you all say that Xue Meng had won the top prize, so I wondered if I could ask you a few more questions."

The men were eager to have an audience and greeted Mo Ran warmly, making room for him to sit with them.

Mo Ran was not rude, he was much more stable now than when he had just come down from the mountain. He asked the teahouse proprietor to add six pots of Lingshan Mountain Miao Yu, and served them with honeyed dates, sour nuts, sweet cheese and cherries, and snake gall melon seeds, before smiling and saying, "Xue Meng is a proud son of heaven, and even without Shenwu, it is not too surprising that he came first. But I heard from you all that Nangong Si of the Confucianism School had brought a girl with him when they faced each other.

The circle was full of men, always happy to tell more about the girl, even though she wasn't theirs.

"Isn't it true that the land of beauty buries its heroes, otherwise with Nangong Si's spells, it's not certain that Xue Meng would have got the upper hand."

"That's interesting." The result was not the same as in the previous life, when Ye Wangxi and Nangong Si had won first place in the Lingshan Mountain competition. Mo Ran originally thought that Chu Wanning's death had spurred Xue Meng on, causing the young phoenix to launch herself, but now it seems that the variables are not just Xue Meng's.

"I wonder what that girl is again."

"That girl's name is Song, I don't remember what her name is, but she's very pretty. I think the boy from Confucianism School has taken her heart for good."

"More than beautiful, she is simply beautiful. If I were Nangong Si, I would rather not be number one on Lingshan Mountain than to make the beauty happy."

Mo Ran :""

Sure enough.

Lingshan Mountain was divided into a single-player competition, a two-player match, and a group elimination, with the three places being summed to arrive at the final winner.

In a previous life, Xue Meng and Shi Mei were pitted against Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi. Ye Wangxi was the most powerful person in the world apart from Chu Wanning, so the result of this match was predictable. But in this life, I don't know what went wrong, but Nangong Si didn't work with Ye Wangxi, and instead brought Song Qiutong, a woman, to hold him back!

Mo Ran put down his tea and raised his hand to rub the corner of his forehead.

I really don't know what that guy was thinking.

"Women, women, even Nangong Si's wild horses have been tamed," someone exclaimed, and the others laughed.

Mo Ran couldn't resist asking, "What about Ye Wangxi?"

"What."

Mo Ran said, "Ye Wangxi."

Mo Ran's heart felt a little sad as he watched the crowd in confusion. How could you not know that this was the God of War who had given him so much pain in his last life?

So he gestured, "Another son of the School of Confucianism, long-legged, tall, good-tempered, not much of a talker, with a sword, and" and Mo Ran sighed at the dumbfounded look on everyone's face, already vaguely aware of the outcome, but still finishing the last few words He finished.

"And a bow."

"I don't know."

"No fame for this one."

"Brother, who did you hear that from? At the Lingshan Mountain Conference the Confucianism School put out sixteen disciples to face the competition, none of whom were surnamed Ye."

Fittingly, in this life, Ye Wangxi did not take part in the war.

Mo Ran was silent for a moment, thinking of Ye Wangxi telling Nangong Si in the restaurant, "You come back, I'll go.", he was suddenly a little intolerant and a little uneasy.

This can't be true

Ye Wangxi, has he really left the Confucianism School?

In his previous life, Ye Wangxi told his executioners that he wanted to be buried at the Confucianism School's hero's grave, next to Nangong Si's. Mo Ran couldn't stop sighing at how such a subtle change of events had turned into a ripple of infinite proportions.

Then the heavens turned upside down and the seas turned into fields.

It turns out that the vagaries of destiny can be so turbulent that it takes a sacrifice of hot blood and bitter tears to bring back the prodigal son and release the former grudge.

For example, he is a great example of Chu Wanning.

But changes of fortune can be silent, as in the case of Ye Wangxi to Nangong Si.

Perhaps it was just that Nangong Si had taken Ye Wangxi in that day at the inn, and when he was thirsty at night, he got up and asked for a pot of tea downstairs, where he happened to meet the poor Song Qiutong.

Maybe Song Qiutong poured him a glass of water, or maybe she stumbled on her way up the stairs because she had trouble with her legs, who knows.

Or maybe it was just that he drank recklessly and dribbled some onto his broad chest, and she was careful, handing him a handkerchief.

The clouds were light at the time, and about Nangong Si simply said thank you.

But none of them knew that their lives had been changed by a handkerchief, a glass of water and a thank you. Only none of the people involved heard the loud clang of fate: the

Nangong Si yawns and goes upstairs.

Song Qiutong Slender stood looking at him.

And Ye Wangxi is in his room, lighting a candle and reading an unfinished volume.

In his previous life, Mo Ran did not know the sky was high and thought he was Tongtian and had penetrated the cycle of life and death.

Now I realise that they are all floating weeds in the world, blown away by the wind and drifted by the rain overnight. A stone cast by those on the shore can smash the green souls to pieces.

How lucky he is to have drifted away and come back to Chu Wanning.

I can still do my filial duty in front of my master and say to Chu Wanning, "I'm sorry that I failed you."

Finish your tea and say goodbye to the crowd.

The wind is picking up outside and the rain will soon fall.

Mo Ran drew up his cloak and headed off into the deep hazel woods.

His figure grows more and more distant, more and more vague, gradually becoming a small dot in the twilight, like a blotted ink stain in a washbasin, eventually fading into invisibility.

"Rumble."

A thunderclap exploded in the gloomy sky, purple lightning and green light, and the rain came like a thousand horses.

"It's falling rain." Someone in the teahouse poked his head out to see, felt the thundering alarmingly, and shrank back.

"It's raining so hard that no one is harvesting the sun-dried grain at home and it's going to get soaked."

"Forget it, boss lady, another pot of tea. We'll go home again when it's clear."

Mo Ran is sprinting in the rain, running in the rain, fleeing in the rain, hiding from the thirty-two years he spent in his previous absurd life.

He wondered if such a rainstorm could wash away his evil, Chu Wanning forgave him, but he himself did not. His mind was heavy and he was going to be driven out of breath by himself.

He was willing to spend the rest of his life doing good deeds to pay for it.

But can the pouring rain of the rest of his life really wash away the sin in his bones and the filth in his blood?

He hated the fact that he couldn't let the rain fall for five years at a time.

I just want to be a little bit cleaner when Chu Wanning wakes up and I stand in front of the Master, a little bit cleaner.

He did not want to be as dirty as he is today, as dirty as mud, as dirty as dust, as dirty as the dirt on the bottom of a footman's shoe, as dirty as the ash inside the seam of a beggar's nail.

He just wants to do better, and better, before Chu Wanning wakes up.

This is how the world's worst and worst pupil may, with some faint courage, call out again to the world's best and best master.

That night, Mo Ran fell ill.

He had always been hard and strong, and when such a man fell ill, it was often as uncontrollable as a landslide.

He lay in bed, covered with a thick quilt, and fell asleep. During the night he dreamed of his past life, of how he had tormented Chu Wanning, of Chu Wanning struggling under him, of Chu Wanning dying in his arms. He woke up from his sleep to a miserable wind and rain outside. He fumbled with the flint to light the candle, but no matter how he hit it, it would not light.

He threw the flint aside in a self-loathing manner, burying his face in his palms and rubbing it hard as he pulled at his hair in agony, the knot in his throat rolling and a beastly howl coming from his throat.

He escaped death, he escaped condemnation, but ultimately he could not escape his own heart.

He was so scared that sometimes he couldn't tell the difference between dreams and reality, and sometimes he would constantly try to make sure he was awake or asleep.

He was in pain and felt his soul split in two, the one from his past life and the one from his present life. These two souls were tearing each other apart, one spitting at the other for being full of blood and heartlessness, and the other, not to be outdone, questioning the other why he had nothing to do and had the face to live in this world.

The spirits of this life are raging against the spirits of the past life: the

Mo Weiyu, Fairy Tramper, you're no good, why did you commit such a sin?

I want to start all over again, why do you haunt me, in dreams, in drunkenness, in lights, jumping out at me with a twisted face to curse me every time I'm caught off guard?

Curse me that I shall never die and that evil will be done to me.

You curse that all this is a dream that will one day shatter again, you curse that one day I will wake up and find myself still lying in the Wushan Palace, and you laugh out loud that I have never been loved in my life.

The only person who was willing to die for me was the one who got him killed.

But is that me?

No, it's not me, it's you, Fairy Tramper, it's you, Mo Weiyu.

I am not like you, I am different from you

There is no blood on my hands, I

I can start all over again.

The other half of the soul also hisses and whines, it opens its sharp mouth, its face is twisted.

Aren't you sorry?

Didn't you do it wrong?

Then why don't you go and die and why don't you use your blood to pay tribute to the people you hurt for no reason in your past life

Bastard Hypocrisy

What is the difference between you and me? I am Mo Weiyu, aren't you? You carry the sins of your past life, you carry the memories of your past life, you can never get rid of me, I am you I am the nightmare is your mind, the gods and goddesses of the heavens knocking at your sickening soul.

Start over

Why should you have any face, who are you to start all over again You have kept the world in the dark, you have kept those who love you in the dark.

You do all the good deeds you can, just to wipe out that pathetic little guilt you feel ha Mo Weiyu, don't you dare let them know what you were like in your past life

Don't you dare let Chu Wanning know that in a previous life, it was you who stabbed him in the neck and made him bleed to death, and that it was you who caused the world to starve and mourn

It's you.

I am you and you are me, you can't escape, I am you, Mo Weiyu, don't you dare say no!

Driven to near madness, Mo Ran went back to the edge of the bed to fumble with the flint, trying his best to light the candle and dispel the hideous blackness of his fingers and claws.

But even the candles did not want him, the candles did not even bother to save him.

He was thrown into the darkness, his trembling hands grazing the flint one by one, one by one, nothing, nothing at all.

He finally collapsed on his bed and howled. He kept apologising, and in the night it was as if there were people around his bed, all of them cursing him, all of them demanding his life, all of them telling him that he had been evil all his life, and Mo Ran didn't know what to do, he suddenly became very helpless, all he could do was to keep saying: "I'm sorry I'm sorry", but no one paid any attention to him.

No one forgives him.

His forehead rolled and his heart burned like fire.

Suddenly, he seemed to hear someone sighing softly.

He opened his eyes amidst the spirits and ghosts, and he saw Chu Wanning coming, still as white as ever, with wide sleeves and wide robes, his brow as strong as ever.

He came over to him and walked over to his bed.

Mo Ran choked out, "Master do I not deserve to see you again"

Chu Wanning did not speak, but picked up the flint and slowly lit the candle that Mo Ran had never lit before.

Where there is a Master, there is fire.

Where there is Chu Wanning, there is light.

He stood in front of the candelabra, his long, slender eyelashes drooping, he lifted his eyes and looked at Mo Ran in silence, before smiling serenely, a very light smile.

He said, "Go to sleep Mo Ran, look, the light is on. Don't you be afraid."

Mo Ran's heart felt like it had been hit hard by something dull and heavy, and he felt his skull cracking with pain as he thought the words sounded familiar, as if he had heard them before sometime.

But he couldn't remember.

Chu Wanning brushes away his sleeves and sits on the edge of his bed. It is cold and rainy and the night is entering Wu, but the house is warm. The darkness is gone.

Chu Wanning said, "I'll stay with you."

His heart was astringent and aching at the words, almost twisted into a knot.

"Master, don't you go." He took Chu Wanning's hand under his wide sleeve.

"Good."

"It'll be dark when you're gone."

Mo Ran cried, feeling a little ashamed, he lifted his other hand and covered his eyes, "Please, don't leave me I beg you I really I really don't want to be an emperor anymore, Master don't you don't want me"

" Mo Ran "

"Please." Perhaps it was the fever that made him a little foggy in the head and made him extra vulnerable. Or perhaps he knew vaguely in his heart that this was actually a dream of his own, and knew that when he woke up Chu Wanning would be gone, so he couldn't stop mumbling, "Please, don't don't want me."

This night, outside the window, countless spirits banged on the window, as if they wanted to enter the house and claim his life.

But in Mo Ran's dream, Chu Wanning lit the lamp, and the faint glow dispelled the endless chill, and Chu Wanning said, "Yes, I'm not leaving."

"No go."

"No go."

Mo Ran tries to say thank you, but a whimper comes out of his throat, the sound of a canine trying to be careful to please, with a hint of resignation.

"You all said you wouldn't leave, that you wouldn't leave me behind." Nearly falling into a dream, Mo Ran's eyes half-open, suddenly muddled, murmuring, "But in the end, no one wants me. No one cares about me, I've been an outcast for half my life who adopts me for a few days and then abandons me again I'm so tired really Master I'm really tired, I can't take it anymore, I can't walk anymore"

Like the stray dog who lives on the wind, homeless, with dirty fur and torn paws, and has to compete with beggars and feral cats for food in order to survive.

He has been bullied for so long that he doesn't trust anyone, and when he sees someone crouch down towards him, the family dog may think it's to feed him, but the abandoned dog only thinks someone is going to hit him with a stone. He walks, walks, walks, walks with anxiety and grimaces at everyone, it's his life.

"Master, if one day, you don't want me anymore, just kill me, don't lose me."

He choked back a sob and whispered.

"The feeling of being given up one at a time is so unbearable that I'd rather die."

He was really burnt out.

In the end, he didn't know where he was and gradually lost track of who the person in his dream was.

" Mother ." Before falling asleep, he said one last thing, "It's getting dark and I'm scared I want to go home."