Chapter 275: [Tianyin Pavilion] The Heart of Dan Broken

He saw Mo Ran as a child smiling brightly at his mother, and he saw Duan Yihan touching Mo Ran's head and saying, "Be grateful, don't hold grudges."

He saw Mo Ran holding a box of pastries given to him by Xue Meng, carefully munching on them, not wanting to waste any of the crumbs.

He saw Mo Ran standing in front of the wine shop in Wuchang Town, dressed as a new disciple, handing the owner the silver in his pocket and smiling with a little blush and expectation: "I'd like a jug of good pear white, can you bring a nice jug to hold it?

All the memories came back one after the other.

The warmest and clearest memories of Mo Ran's past flashed by like a lightning rod.

Mo Ran is shown laughing all the time, from her early years of hunger and cold, to her youthful years before the onset of the Eight Bitternesses. But these memories are few and far between; Mo Ran has had so few pure moments in his life, so few days to laugh.

Chu Wanning looks at the flashing piles.

Then, everything settled down.

Because their souls had been entwined for so long, he could now clearly perceive how much Mo Ran had liked him, respected him, clung to him and loved him before the Long Hatred Flower was planted, even though he didn't like to laugh and was even a bit harsh when teaching spells.

But it's just like, it feels familiar and warm.

Thinking that this ice-cold master was actually a very, very nice person at heart.

Mo Ran had liked him at an early age, passionately and innocently.

As the memories flowed before him, Chu Wanning followed Mo Ran's recollections, plunging into a night when the moon was white and the wind was clear. That night, a solitary lamp was lit in the disciples' room at the summit of death and life, and Mo Ran sat at the table, carefully sewing a white handkerchief in his hands over a spread-out scroll.

After sewing a few stitches, he clumsily poked his fingertips and blood dripped down and blotted on the cloth.

Mo Ran's eyes then widened, then looked frustrated and sighed, "It's so hard."

The white handkerchief was balled up and tossed to one side.

Another new side was taken and sewn again.

After a night of uninterrupted candlelight and countless hankies thrown, the handy man was finally a little more dexterous, and slowly the pale red petals bloomed, one, two and five petals.

Each petal is embroidered with care and sincerity.

The young man clumsily sews a white hankie, stitch by stitch, with a begonia flower that never fails to bloom all year round.

There was a light in his eyes as he looked at the paddle towel.

When the embroidery was finished, it was in fact very difficult to see, the footing was very uneven, and it looked like the work of a novice, but Mo Ran was overwhelmed with joy.

Covering his face.

He laughed out loud under the hankie and blew on it, and the begonia handkerchief lifted its corner to reveal his gentle eyes beneath. The light flowed from his eyes.

"Give this to the Master, he will love it."

All that sank into his heart was warmth, a warmth that the compulsive flowers planted later could not tolerate and had to devour.

"From now on, every time you use a handkerchief, you'll think of me."

Mo Ran tucked the handkerchief in his arms, thinking countless times that Chu Wanning would praise him and be happy, and he felt that the grass was growing and he could not contain his happiness. That night, he rushed to Chu Wanning's bedchamber and found the man standing by the pond watching the fish.

"Master."

He ran over to them with gusto and a glowing face.

Chu Wanning turned back, a little surprised: "What are you doing here?"

"I... Ah-choo."

It was cold, he was in a hurry to get out and didn't wear a cloak, so the teenager sneezed before he could say anything.

Chu Wanning said, "What's the hurry? You didn't even remember to put on a shirt."

Mo Ran rubbed his nose and grinned, "I can't wait, I have something that I won't be able to sleep until I give it to the Master."

"What is it?"

"A gift of worship to the Master." He said, and then carefully fumbled the folded handkerchief out of his bosom, but when he was about to present it, he suddenly became emotionally timid and blushed surprisingly, "It's not really worth a few dollars. And no, it's not very good."

After thinking about it, simply Tuanba Tuanba hid his handkerchief behind him again and ground his toes restlessly against the ground.

Chu Wanning :""

"What did you buy?"

The young man's ears turned red and he replied blushingly, "I didn't buy it, I don't have any money."

Chu Wanning was stunned for a moment: "You did it yourself"

Mo Ran drops her head, two barred ciliary curtains like clouds, and whispers, "Mmm."

Before Chu Wanning could answer, he said in a rush, "I don't want to count it, but it's really, really, really ugly," and then, still feeling that it wasn't enough, he looked at Chu Wanning again with courage and added, "It's really ugly. "

Chu Wanning still remembers how he felt, surprised and amazed in fact.

He had never received a gift made by someone else's hand.

But he was too embarrassed to show it, and too embarrassed to laugh, so he had to tense his face even more, for fear that this young apprentice, who had just been initiated, would see the refreshing sweetness in his heart.

He coughed lightly and spoke deliberately, "Well, if it's done, no matter how ugly it is, let's show it to me"

Eventually, Mo Ran took her handkerchief out and tried to present it with both hands, but felt that it was already crumpled from all the fussing, so she fumbled around trying to smooth it out.

It was when his face was burning red that a slender, even hand reached out and took the embarrassing handkerchief from him.

All the chaos and confusion ceased.

Mo Ran was dumbfounded and couldn't help but say "Ah", "Master, it's really ugly"

At that time, Chu Wanning had not yet fallen in love with Mo Ran, but only remembered those dark, shiny eyes. They were wet, like rain on a flower, and they were beautiful.

Love is sometimes as fast as a thunderbolt and sometimes as slow as a dripping stone.

Chu Wanning is the latter. He was touched by the warmth of the young man's heart, and his glances and smiles did not seem too intense at the time, but had plenty of energy.

When he suddenly realised that this tender love had become a quagmire, he fell deep into it and was unable to pull it out.

"It's a handkerchief."

"Mmmmmmmmm."

A white square scarf, of heavenly silk, with begonia flowers embroidered on the side, the stitching corners carefully knotted and raw to the point of being somewhat lovely.

Chu Wanning's heart was suddenly touched by an empty valley, where there was a flowing spring with falling flowers on it.

It was the first time he had received such a gift.

When the gift-giver saw that he didn't say anything, she thought he didn't like it and stumbled to explain, "I, I embroidered it according to the drawing in the picture book. The embroidery is also much better than mine."

He eventually got a little anxious and tried to get his handkerchief back. But Chu Wanning was one step ahead of him and had received it in the lapel of his robe without moving.

"It's not like that. How can you give a gift of worship and then ask for it back"

The crumpled hankies, and the Mo Ran temperature, are indeed ugly. Go to Wuchang Town and you can get eight for ten coppers of the same style.

But it just feels precious and I don't want to return it.

So it became the first gift Mo Ran gave to Chu Wanning in her life. After the compulsion spell, this memory and this handkerchief were both forgotten by Mo Weiyu.

Chu Wanning was a thin-skinned man who was not good with words, and he had never made any special mention of it, but as he saw that Mo Ran was becoming more and more attached to Shi Mei, and that he had given her a hundred or eighty things, he became more and more silent and did not want Mo Ran to see the handkerchief again.

It was something that Mo Ran gave him freely and he kept it to himself.

He remembered

The fusion of earth spirits brings back memories. Such things as this, one by one, are slowly coming back to Chu Wanning.

He rose, more angry, more eager, more sad, more pained than ever

His hands were shaking, and he finally knew the truth of everything, of what had happened.

In fact, it was more than just a childhood of being wronged.

Nor is it only under the spell of Shi Mei.

Much more than that.

But these most important memories have been suppressed by Shi Mei's spell, and for twenty years, two lifetimes, no one has ever known what this event was like in the first place.

Until today.

The truth, the truth

These are the ultimate truths

With no one left to stop him on Dragon Mountain, Chu Wanning ran like a madman from the foot of the mountain to the nearest village or town and asked Mo Ran where he was going.

"That Mohammedan," said the village man in a gruff voice, not knowing Chu Wanning's identity, "is a beast of a man who is not what he seems."

a beast of a man who is not what he appears to be

Sinner

Tyrants.

The Fairy Tramper of his past life was grinning at him, the Mo Weiyu of this life was smiling at him.

Not really.

That is not the truth.

Chu Wanning asks with a pale face, "Where is he?"

" Tianyin Pavilion." The villagers said, " Upper Fairy World Lower Fairy World is now known to everyone, this man has committed a heinous crime, and today he will be dug up and punished."

Like a mountain of rocks cracking, it vibrates and buzzes inside the skull.

"When will the execution take place?" Chu Wanning asked with such eagerness, his phoenix eyes shone with such a radiant light, that the villagers were startled.

"I don't remember, I can't quite remember, it was like noon."

At noon he looked at the sundial by the sunbed and suddenly paled

When the dragon's symbol breaks out of the sky, Chu Wanning tells the paper dragon to take him on a ride to the Qi land. At first, the paper dragon tried to argue with his master, but was surprised to see that Chu Wanning had water in his eyes.

Little paper dragon, stunned: "What's wrong with you?"

"Help me."

It had never seen Chu Wanning look like this before, so it didn't know what to do, but said, "This seat has never failed to help you.

Chu Wanning clenches his back teeth, viciously, but is already an empty frame.

That truth was the moth that snapped his backbone.

"I'm not crying, take me to Tianyin Pavilion before it's too late"

"What are you going to do there?"

"Help." Trembling and unable to stop, not wanting to cry, never wanting to cry, but tears finally trickling down, Chu Wanning wiped his red eyes hard.

"To save a man who has been wrongly convicted."

""

"If anyone in this world deserves to have his core ripped out alive and be reviled by all, it should not be him." Chu Wanning said hoarsely, "I will take his place."

The paper dragon did not ask any more questions, it carried him, transforming into a huge dragon with a brilliant head and horns, breaking through the air and soaring into the sky, the wind moving the mountains, the beards of the Jain fluttering, the cold mist breaking, soaring through the wet sea of clouds.

Chu Wanning sitting on his dragon's horn.

The strong air currents brushed his face, and the cold above the nine heavens was so startling that the blood on his fingertips felt like it was freezing. He looked ahead, at the overlapping clouds, the layers of mountains, the flowing rivers, all the things on earth like yesterday, passing by below.

In fact, from the moment of awakening, he was mad, numb, broken and fragmented.

It was only when he slowed down that he was completely submerged in the sadness of those past events. He curled up on top of the dragon, slowly curling up and slowly burying his face in his hands.

The wind is strong and blows hungrily across the ears.

They will try Mo Ran, they will cut out his heart and break the core of his spirit

The ten evils are unforgivable and deserve death.

Not really.

The wind is so loud that it is enough to obscure all mortal joy, anger and sorrow.

The sky is high and the clouds are wide, Chu Wanning finally cries out in the wind, both times in the floating life of Fairy Tramper and Ink Master.

This was not even appropriate.

Mo Ran has a point.

The worship under the Tongtian Tower was wrong from the very beginning.

As the sun rose and the bronze kettle outside the Tianyin Pavilion reached a certain mark, the lady officer struck the bell and shouted, "It is noon."

The Yardbird rises in alarm.

"Execution"

He is mounted on the torture rack, bound with immortal ropes, with his outer robe removed and his lapels open.

Mu Yanli's expression is cold as she holds her Shenwu dagger and steps forward to stand in front of Mo Ran.

"I give you the sentence today, and I hope you will repent."

The lips and teeth open and close, reciting the ancient chant of the Tianyin Pavilion.

"The voice of heaven is vast, and there must be no selfishness.

The son of the heavenly voice must not be sentient.

The sound of the heavens is too small to be blasphemed.

The voice of heaven has mercy for all beings."

Her eyes dropped in salute to Mo Ran as a farewell gesture.

And then, drawing the blade and sheathing it, flowers and fire flew, the divine weapon buzzed and golden feathers scattered. The sheen of the dagger reflected in her eyes, where there was no hint of emotion.

Some below covered their eyes, some stretched their necks, some closed their eyes and sighed long and hard, and some clapped their hands.

There is nothing more to life than this.

"All right, the heavenly punishment of the birth dissection of the spiritual core."

The hands rise and the knives fall, and blood is spilled everywhere.

Dead silence.

Following this, someone on the stage lost his voice and shouted, "Brother"

Red, bright red blood rolled out, and Shenwu sank into his chest. Mo Ran's eyes were open, unconscious at first, before he looked down, rigidly, at the bloody flesh of his heart.

His lips fluttered open and closed as the excruciating pain began to explode like fireworks, light and shadow boiling fiercely before his eyes.

"Ahem."

Blood gushes from the mouth, dripping and ironic.

The heavens and the earth are vast, and thus they are transformed into a sea of bleak red.

But wrong, all wrong.

Chu Wanning, flying with the dragon, is getting closer to Qi Di.

He had thought that Mo Ran's indifference to himself, his playfulness, was due to resentment, to a resentful heart.

He had thought that Mo Ran had gradually forgotten the gentleness of their first days under repeated chastisements and reprimands.

Actually, no, those memories have always been trapped in Mo Ran's soul.

He saw it.

Chu Wanning saw Mo Ran's deepest heart, which was subdued by the eight bitter long-hated flowers, and was filled with the deepest love of the past.

That year, when Mo Ran was so young and white, he still had a warm and healthy heart, beating under his chest. That year he watched his newly worshipped master standing by the window of the lacquered wooden pavilion, turning his face sideways towards him, his pupils pale, and saying, " Mo Ran, come here."

As you approach, there are pens, ink, paper and inkstones in front of you.

"I heard from your Holiness that you do not yet know how to write your watchword. Lift your pen and I will teach you."

He taught him, in a light tone, like the apricot blossom outside the window, which blossoms out of the dusty, empty haze.

"The name given to you by Your Holiness is Wei Yu, which is the opposite of your name, so I will write it down once, so look carefully."

So, horizontal and vertical, the master's strokes were strong, and the young apprentice stood by in ignorance, learning.

"One more point written."

"This time there is another point missing from the writing."

It took five times to get the two characters right, but they were as ugly as a ghostly painting. Chu Wanning, who had never seen such a dumb pupil before, could not help but feel a little exasperated: "Is it hard?"

Not difficult.

But at the time Mo Ran did not dare tell him that it was because he looked so good when he wrote with his eyes down that he was so insatiable and wanted so much that he deliberately wrote more than one stroke and less than one.

Earn him so he can teach himself again.

"It's so hard."

Chu Wanning then glared at him, "Watch carefully, don't giggle."

Mo Ran then pursed her lips and smiled, genuinely distressed, "So, Master, write it again and teach me again."

He really loved that moment of bowing his head and slanting his phoenix eyes.

As long as Chu Wanning holds his hand and teaches him, he can listen to the sound of the begonias opening outside his window.

The boundaries of the execution platform are high, and the judgment of the heavenly voice is unstoppable.

Shenwu's dagger is sharp enough to cut through gold, and it is capable of understanding its master's mind. Mu Yanli looks as if he cannot hear Mo Ran's ragged gasps, nor can he see the man's pale, corpse-like face, nor can he see the veins protruding from the corners of Mo Ran's forehead, nor the blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.

She only enforces the sentence of the scales of Shenwu.

Raw digging for spirit cores.

The dagger pierces the heart, quickly traversing through the flesh and blood, probing for the remnants of the spirit core, then building up the strength to pick out the sharp tip of the blade, inevitably cutting off the flesh and blood.

She did not care, and threw the flesh and blood, together with the glowing fragments, onto the silver tray carried by the attendant.

The healing woman instantly stepped forward, stopping the raging blood and sticking to the spasming heart so that he would not die.

Tianyin Pavilion will protect him, at least from death on the stage and from death during the execution, as the balance of the world condemned him to dig up the spiritual core alive.

They kept him awake in case they couldn't tell if he was in pain to the point of coma or near death, so Mo Ran watched his heart being cut open again and again, probing for fragments, before being temporarily sedated and healed.

Again and again.

Xue Meng has broken down, he is bawling, his face buried in his palms, tears pouring down his face.

"Brother."

It hurts so much that the soul is blurred and the tendons burst out.

But it felt liberating at last.

Mu Yanli With each fall of the knife that stabbed his heart open and dug out the fragments, he felt the sins of his previous life, full of blood on his hands, fade a little more.

Is it possible to be forgiven when the pain is over

Is it possible to pluck out the remnants and go back to the past

But where was it before?

If he were to return to the day he worshipped under the Tongtian Tower, he would still be a false son of the dead and alive, and his mother would have starved to death, and happiness would still be a mirage.

If he were to go back to the woodshed of his childhood, the years when he and Duan Yihan were the only ones who lived together, he would be afraid that, by mistake, he would never meet Chu Wanning again, and that this happiness would be a regret.

Looking back, he could not find a point in his two lives where he could start again with peace of mind, where he could not find a truly carefree, well-fed day, even if it was just one day.

In both of his lives, for over forty years, he never had a single night of peace.

The dagger of Mu Yanli Road is still buried deep in flesh and blood, in the name of Heaven.

He knew that his soul was fishy and dirty and that there was no excuse for his sin, and that the judgment would always come as the heavens went on.

But at this moment, he was suddenly a little sour.

He wanted his mother, he wanted his master, he wanted his brother, he wanted his aunts and uncles, he wanted a family.

But probably he was just too greedy and wanted so much.

So in the end, he had nothing.

The happiness he had known, the warmth he had attained, was in the end false, no match for the water in the basket and the sand in his palm.

It took everything he had to make up for it, but he got nothing.

He was beside the long river of life, clutching his tiny, wet basket, which was empty as he squatted down and stared in awe at the river tide rushing in and out of the dead.

In fact, from the beginning, he only had this little rickety basket that he held.

Net a dream that is destined to break.