NOVEL NEXT Chapter 43: Former Fates
Those hanging upside-down said: "A general."
"A young general."
"It’s said he died beneath the divine arbor."
"But why did the jade carving move?"
"Is it because of those two sword strikes?"
"It must be…"
One by one, the people hanging upside-down turned to look at this Xiao Fuxuan who’d unleashed his sword, faces convoluted with suspicion.
Only Wu Xingxue, upon hearing that "died beneath the divine arbor," moved the fingers hanging at his side. Rather strangely, at that moment, a feeling of discomfort arose in his heart, as though he’d once seen how that person "died beneath the divine arbor."
Dazed for a moment, he subconsciously reached out for the jade carving.
Those hanging upside-down were drained of color in fright, and rushed to yell:
"The statue can’t be touched!"
"That was carved by the divine arbor itself, it cannot be profaned…"
"Other than it itself, anyone who touches it will meet with—"
Before the word "disaster" could land, they all went silent at once, sinking into blank-faced suspicion.
Because they saw Wu Xingxue grip the jade carving, yet nothing happened. Only a long breeze swept across the temple, like something in the jade statue had momentarily awoken.
Xiao Fuxuan grabbed Wu Xingxue’s wrist. Seeing the other’s eyelashes trembling slightly, he asked: "Something wrong?"
After a long while, Wu Xingxue opened his mouth to say: "No."
Nothing.
It was just that, the moment he gripped the jade statue, he felt a trace of spirits wrapping along his fingertips and melding into his body.
Like a little fragment of a spirit that he once left in the jade statue, had now at last found its way back.
The instant the spirit melded into his fingertips, he recalled a few events.
About the divine arbor, about General Bai.
***
A long, long time ago, before Lingtai was around, there was a towering tree in Falling Flower Terrace that stretched from high heaven down to the ground below, its branches so lush they seemed canopied in clouds. The cycles of life and death in the mortal realm were all kept on this giant tree—
Each time a newborn infant entered the world, the tree would sprout new growth and grow a flower bud. And each time someone shuffled off this mortal coil, a blossom would fall from the tree.
Ordinary people couldn’t see it. Only people newly born or close to death would have the chance to catch sight of it.
Some who’d once faced the jaws of death but managed to escape, upon returning, would all say that they’d seen a divine arbor, right on Falling Flower Terrace. Over time, all sorts of rumors arose about the divine arbor.
Rumor had it that the divine arbor appeared half-withered and half-thriving—the very crown of its canopy flourished with flowers, so that looking on from afar, it appeared as the flush of clouds amidst the setting sun. But below the canopy, the branches deep within would be constantly shedding blossoms. No matter whether it was autumn or spring, morning or night, it never stopped.
Those fallen petals could cover all twelve miles of the mountain range. Floating within the mountain streams, their reflections in the water suffused it in cherry red. Hence, there was a splendorous sight in Falling Flower Terrace, renowned around the world, yet few could see it, called “clear streams in the mountain, crimson flow to fields."
That splendorous sight was all the mortal realm’s life and death, encapsulating every single person in the world.
Rumors spread more and more widely, leading people to establish a temple on Falling FLower Terrace to worship that giant tree ordinary people couldn’t see.
Anything related to life and death would be particularly attractive to the masses. For a time, that temple was the most lively place in the world. A multitude of people trod over that threshold to beseech for all sorts of things there.
At the time, those beseeching primarily involved life and death—praying for new life to come, praying for recovery from severe illness, praying for peace and safety, or a long life without worry.
Later on, things got more and more jumbled. It got to the point that, for quite a while, people would imbue just about any tree.
Rumor had it that the divine arbor heard so many of mortals’ joys, sorrows, and wishes, that it slowly begot a human side. Gradually, rumors pertaining to the divine arbor gained an additional few phrases
—People who’d had the chance to see the divine arbor said that they’d once seen a phantom amidst the divine arbor’s dense, verdant foliage, like someone was propped up on a branch, just sitting amidst the mass of blossoms, gaze lowered upon the ever-more bustling Falling Flower Terrace.
Due to its relation to the divine arbor, more and more structures were built along the mountains of Falling Flower Terrace, and in the third month when living things sprung forth, droves of people from north to south would converge here, gradually forming a fledgling state of the mountain market.
But the world had a universally-disliked yet ultimately prophetic principle, known as "good times don’t last."
Not even the divine arbor could escape this adage.
At first, people who’d heard of the divine arbor only prayed to it. But later on, some people became unspeakably greedy, and came up with bad ideas.
Since the divine arbor encapsulated the cycles of life and death, of time as it rolled on forward, then… What if they could find a way to borrow some of the divine arbor’s power?
Could it call people to rise from the dead, or bring back squandered years?
This theory pulled on too many people’s heartstrings and watered their drool. Hence, the divine arbor could no longer exist as it once had, when it was only granting protection and stability.
Those unscrupulous means led to a great deal of trouble— some people were killed because of the divine arbor, while some caused others’ deaths due to the divine arbor…
These troubles morphed into karmic burdens, all bound to the divine arbor.
The rumors said that because the divine arbor had begotten a human side that’d also been wrapped up in these karmic burdens, not even it could escape the mortal realm’s maxim—its days were numbered.
The year the divine arbor met with calamity, the mortal world wasn’t doing too well either. War had broken out everywhere under the sun.
At the time there weren’t places named Langzhou, Meng City, and the like. Everywhere, the national borders were a mess.
A small nation assembled in the southwest, where the fires of war blazed most furiously. Plains steeped in crimson for hundreds of miles, bodies scattered this way and that, were a common sight. Later on, even children of ten years would be carrying cold weaponry and entering the fields of slaughter.
One autumn night in that year when the moon ought to have been full, a sorrowful scene appeared in the southwest—
On one side, fighting was at its zenith on the as-yet-unnamed Jiaming Wilderness. Lingering flames burned across the vast wilderness. The scent of scorched flesh and the plaintive whinnying of horses disseminated hundreds of miles on the night breeze.
On the other side, thunder drummed over Falling Flower Terrace as electric light fell forth from the ninth heaven like an impenetrable net, hacking down strike by strike upon the site of the divine arbor.
A youth drenched in blood was just then walking from the outskirts of the fields, toward the divine arbor…
He looked about seventeen or eighteen, a faint youthful air about his face, but it was all covered up by the cold-iron-like malign qi of his severely wounded body. His legs and torso were long; his stature ought to have been quite tall, but due to his being drained of vital force as well as the injuries across his body, he couldn’t stand very straight.
At first glance, he’d just come from killing in the flames of war.
From one hand jutted a sword, and on his back was a bloody bundle of cloth.
When he crossed through the valley, he stumbled with the sword in his grip, and that bloody bundle shifted. A pair of skinny arms lolled out, covered in wounds and scars. Looking from afar, an experienced person would know—it was a skinny little kid who’d already died.
During those two years, one would always come across kids like that on the outskirts of the battlefields. Broken homes, parents dead, no one to look after them, either they’d be snatched away or starve.
Even if they were starving they wouldn’t have a restful death; they’d be dismembered and gobbled up by wild beats, foul or yin entities, or other extremely hungry people, and end up without even a full skeleton. Those who died like this and remained intact could be counted on one hand.
As the youth walked below the divine arbor, there was a brief gap in the heavenly thunder. All Falling Flower Terrace was suspended in a brief calm.
The rumors all said that ordinary people couldn’t see the divine arbor, so people who came to Falling Flower Terrace would usually head straight for the temple and wouldn’t really look up to search for that giant invisible tree.
But that youth didn’t go in the direction of the temple. Supporting himself on his sword, he stood below the tree, swallowed the blood between his lips, and looked up.
His face was naturally quite handsome. If he’d washed away all that blood and killing intent on his body, he ought to have been a swaggering young lad, cold white as jade. But what a pity, he’d not retain that face another day.
Because, after swallowing down that fresh blood, his rasping voice said softly: "I can see you…"
Legend had it, only those newly born or close to death could see the divine arbor.
He saw it, which meant he was right on the verge of death.
His gaze reflected the fresh black of the sky, and stirred, as though wanting to take in the full appearance of the divine arbor down to the depths of its canopy. After a moment, he swallowed with difficulty and lowered his gaze, murmuring: "It’s different from the legends…"
That night, the divine arbor was indeed different from in the legends. It had borne dozens of heavenly lightning strikes on this appointed day, and its body was full of long gashes. Few blossoms remained on its branches, yet wilted petals had long since littered the ground. There was no rosy, cloudlike scene as in the legends, nor any rouge reflected in the moonlight.
The youth’s vitality was nearly exhausted. Even just carrying himself to Falling Flower Terrace was no easy task.
After he lowered his eyes, he half-knelt along his sword. Using the last of his strength, he dug out a bit of soil at the base of the tree and buried the remains of the child he’d been carrying on his back into the soil.
People often said, after someone died, if they took protection under the divine arbor, then in the next life they’d have peace, happiness, and longevity.
He smoothed the dirt over, and, at last no longer able to support himself, fell down to a sitting position. Still holding the sword in one hand, head sagging, his thin eyelids slowly lowered into long, slender lines. Blood trickled down from his forehead and flowed into the hollows about his eyes, then soaked into the eyes themselves.
At the time, he realized that he’d already begun to lose consciousness.
Before his eyes, there was only the color of blood, and he could neither see nor hear clearly. So, when he vaguely heard a faint voice asking him, "Who is the one you buried?" he just slowly blinked without opening his mouth.
He scoffed at himself, thinking that he’d already begun seeing deathbed hallucinations. But he still moved his lips, breathing out nigh-inaudibly: "Picked ‘im from the groun’.”
A kid who had nothing to do with him, just, when he was passing through, he’d instinctively used up the last of his strength to grab him.
It must have been the fear of death, right, or the fear that it would hurt to be dismembered and eaten after death.
It wasn’t until a while after he answered that he abruptly recalled, that question was a bit strange.
The legends had mentioned that the divine arbor had begotten a human side, and people had seen an illusory silhouette in its canopy.
The hand the youth used to grip his sword clenched a bit. As he gasped and swallowed down the blood taste in his throat, his Adam’s apple slid a few times. He wanted to open his eyes and look at whether there’d be a figure in the canopy, but he couldn’t blink away the blood no matter what, so there was no way for him to see clearly.
He just felt that there was a tiny bit of frailty in that faint voice, as though it’d also suffered pain, not so different from him.
He remembered the mystic lightning he’d seen before, and understood slightly.
If the divine arbor really could become human, those long gashes on its body would have had to hurt a lot. No wonder… the voice was so faint.
As he thought to himself, the divine arbor rustled gently a few times, as if it could actually hear him.
Though it was also possible that the rustling was just that deathbed hallucination.
As he thought this, the sky suddenly brightened; the last few bolts of lightning from the heavens struck down, aiming for the roots of the divine arbor. The youth blinked amidst the electric light. Blood plopped down to the ground along his eyelashes.
Does it hurt?
I’m also pretty much about to die…
He thought.
The instant the blood soaked into the earth, the youth seized his longsword, and used the back of his own shoulder to block the heavenly lightning.
In the last moment of his life, images flashed through his mind—corpses strewn across the immeasurable hundreds of miles of wilderness, and the divine arbor’s wilted petals littering the ground—and he thought: "When I open my eyes in the next life, may I see you blossoming…"
Ever since the divine arbor had been, all it had heard were prayers. All mortals wanted, all they hoped, was for it to protect them.
This was the first time, and the only time, that someone had used their own mortal flesh body to protect it.
And that youth had long dosed his eyes, never to open them again.
So he couldn’t see how, after his death, that ghostly figure high up in the canopy slowly condensed into a real human form.
***
Much later on, people were still unable to see the divine arbor, but found a skeleton at the divine arbor’s site. There was a military nameplate at the skeleton’s waist with the rank "general" inscribed, beneath which was the family name “Bal."
Rumor had it that he was a general who’d died underneath the tree, seventeen or eighteen years old, not yet of adult age.
After he died, jade essence sprung from the places where his blood flowed, its bright, cold white enwrapping the entire divine arbor.
There also came a day when a jade caning appeared in that temple worshiping the divine arbor, depicting a coldly handsome youth leaning against the towering tree.
People were awed to no end, unsure where that jade caning that had appeared out of thin air had really come from. Then, people said that the night before the jade carving appeared, there appeared to have been a figure dressed in white entering the temple, who then—mistlike—had furtively, soundlessly disappeared.
Hence, people said that that figure was the divine arbor-turned-human, and that jade caning was carved by his own hands, for that young general who’d died underneath the tree.
Thinking on it now, those legends were about right. There was only one thing that even the legends never knew.
Only the one who’d hand-carved the jade statue would know most clearly…
Wu Xingxue began to recall that when he carved that jade statue back then, he’d poured a wisp of his own spirit into it, along with a drop of that person’s blood—
This way, were that person to reincarnate into the mortal world, were he to arrive again at this temple, were he to allow the jade statue’s spirit and blood to sniff out the familiar spirit… then that towering jade tree would recognize the youth leaning against it.
He was born of the divine arbor, and at the time of his birth, the only non-beseeching words he’d ever heard came from that person: "Does it hurt? I’m also pretty much about to die. Wait until I open my eyes in the next life, so that I may see you blossom."
At the time, he hadn’t expected that the divine arbor would be sealed later on, and even this temple would be lumped together in this swath of forbidden ground. Similarly, he hadn’t expected that a later incarnation of that young general from back then would, due to his entanglement with the divine arbor from that year, be ordained as an immortal at an early age, and receive the heavenly-conferred symbol of "Mian."
Back then, on Immortal Capital’s steep white jade staircase, the first time he saw Xiao Fuxuan walking up with his longsword, when he sniffed out that familiar spirit’s scent, his heart still issued up a vague regret.
But it was not that he regretted that the reincarnated person wouldn’t remember his previous life—rather, it was regret that the other couldn’t see that statue carved of white jade. He hid a little token of thanks inside.
Xiao Fuxuan hadn’t ever learned of that brief feeling, and Wu Xingxue himself had forgotten it for over twenty years. He didn’t expect that now, today, because of a chance like this and a wisp of spirits, he’d actually remember this little fragment.
He’d least expected that they’d actually be standing here in this temple.
So… when Xiao Fuxuan had swept the entire temple with two strikes of pardoning sword intent, that jade tree hiding a token of thanks recognized his spirit, and burst into flower buds.
That tree blossoming in full bloom was all—and only—for him.
Fanart for this chapter:
- https://twitter.com/zhouxinglvshui/status/1513365933946933252
- https://m.weibo.cn/status/4734706074260775
- https://twitter.com/chaosblessings/status/1496627530236891138?t=edo_Nt2VUVNB4OrRp-U11g&s=19