SC Chapter67

Those who achieve great things are not constrained by trifles, are not hindered by personal sentiment, do not act on impulse, and most importantly, cut off what needs to be cut off decisively. Jiang Lingxin taught Shen Guan literary talent and military strategy, schemes, and tactics, but alone failed to teach him a cold, hard heart. Shen Guan, having been moved by emotion, couldn’t even hold a sword steady.

Prince Wujing fell from power, the crime of plotting rebellion was confirmed by solid evidence. Shen Guan personally escorted Prince Wujing and his cohorts into the Imperial Prison, yet he secretly and privately released the young heir of Prince Wujing under the cover of deception.

Later, Jiang Lingxin watched helplessly as his only disciple, for personal sentiment, deceived his superiors and subordinates, defected from Tianyi Division, and even risked his life repeatedly. That desperate, all-or-nothing resolve truly resembled one specific person.

Yongjia Commandery, Kuozhou, was the last time Jiang Lingxin saw Shen Guan. He watched from afar the blue stone steps of the small alley in Jiangnan. The child he had raised with his own hands was now thirty, dressed in a simple green robe, his eyes gentle, the soft gleam in them reminiscent of Jiangnan’s endless drizzle. That lad from the Xie family still wore a cold, sullen face, frowning as he scolded Shen Guan when draping a winter cloak over his shoulders, yet his hands skillfully wrapped the lapels tightly for him. Shen Guan smiled, his eyes curving warmly, and scooped up the little girl who was stumbling as she learned to walk.

As the setting sun descended, smoke curled up from the roof, and the twilight in the sky also became gentle.

Jiang Lingxin re-tied his black cloak around his shoulders, turned over, and spurred his horse away. Zhou Yan leaned against a weeping willow while drinking wine at the small town ferry.

The two passed each other, neither speaking.

The light boat drifted gently. Jiang Lingxin glanced back; the figure on the ferry had already blurred, yet had not moved away.

In the spring of the following year, the head of the evil cult, who was detained in the Imperial Prison, escaped and fled all the way to the northwest. The evil cult Bailian was founded by this person. Under the banner of Buddhism, he recruited followers and instigated wars in various places. If this person were to see the light of day again, there is no guarantee that he would not make a comeback.

Jiang Lingxin was ordered to track down this person’s whereabouts and kill him upon sighting. That person was incredibly cunning, and on several occasions nearly caught him along the way, yet he managed to escape each time. Finally, outside Yumen Guan, Jiang Lingxin and his group cornered the leader, encircled and suppressed him for three days, and slew him with a sword. Who knew how cunning that man was and how extremely familiar with the terrain? He lured them into an underground cavern and set a trap before his death.

Jiang Lingxin lost more than thirty shadow guards. The last signal flare for help had been sent, but no one knew when the supporting guards would arrive. This cavern was full of elaborate traps; in just a few short hours, fewer and fewer people remained by his side. His black clothes were stained with blood, revealing a deeper, heavier black. In the end, only Jiang Lingxin himself was left.

In the dark stone path, there was a glimmer of light in the distance.

Jiang Lingxin smelled a strange, bizarre fragrance; it was too late to hold his breath. The fragrance has already entered his lungs, and the layers of wounds on his body surprisingly began to stop hurting. Then he began to see many people…

Many people who had long been dead. Most of these people died by his hand; some he remembered the names of, but some even their faces were strange. It was an illusion; Jiang Lingxin immediately understood the nature of the strange fragrance he just smelled.

There’s nothing to fear. Jiang Lingxin slowly drew his sword, closed his eyes, and swung his sword edge while listening to the surrounding sounds.

If I could kill you once back then, I can kill you a second time, a third time now… the blade slashed down, emitting a muffled, bone-deep sound, and there was even the sensation of blood splashing onto his face.

“Little Junior Brother.” The voice was low and teasing. Jiang Lingxin opened his eyes to see his second senior brother, wearing a half-smile, half-indifferent expression.

Jiang Lingxin raised an eyebrow.

His Second Senior Brother smiled wickedly: “Did you miss your senior brother?”

Jiang Lingxin nodded, then drove his sword into his second senior brother’s heart, and as he withdrew it, a string of blood droplets followed. Next, he killed his eldest senior brother as well as his master without hesitation.

This path seemed to have no end. The glimmer of light in the distance was still there. Jiang Lingxin’s steps began to stumble as innumerable ghostly cries appeared in his ears. Wailing poured into his ears, causing a splitting headache.

Jiang Lingxin felt as if a ghostly claw had raked his back in the darkness. Blood seeped slowly, and he let out a muffled groan, pressing his temple. Bearing the pain, he whispered, “Shut up, you’re too loud.”

The ghostly cries and wails did not stop, clamoring to take his life.

“Take my life?” Jiang Lingxin straightened his slender, bamboo-like back, and suddenly smiled, saying, “Evil spirits and monsters who harm the foundations of the country should be killed. Those blinded by greed who harm the people deserve death. Those who stand in the way of my rise deserve it even more. I, Jiang Lingxin, have been in charge of the Tianyi Division for thirty-two years; of everyone I have ever killed, I have never had any regret.”

The cold blade swept out, striking nothing. The ghostly sounds in his ears gradually receded.

Blood dripped from between his fingers. Jiang Lingxin walked step by step toward that glimmer of light. When he reached the end, he saw a person standing with his back to him.

Jiang Lingxin’s steps paused. That person heard the sound and turned around, his features refined and elegant. It was Zhou Yan.

Jiang Lingxin’s face turned pale, his fingertips tightened slightly as he raised his long sword.

Zhou Yan smiled, bright as a star: “Wife.”

Jiang Lingxin froze for a moment. The hand holding the sword slowly lowered. After a long time, he shook his head and gave a scoffing laugh. Zhou Yan stepped forward, reached out, and pulled Jiang Lingxin into his embrace, saying, “Xin’er.”

A weariness appeared at the corners of Jiang Lingxin’s eyes. He gently closed his eyes, resting his chin on Zhou Yan’s shoulder, and muttered, “We’re old, don’t call me that, it’s nauseatingly sweet.”

Zhou Yan laughed, his shoulders trembling, and leaned in to whisper beside Jiang Lingxin’s ear, “As you wish. After so many years, aren’t you tired of being alone?”

The corner of Jiang Lingxin’s eye felt slightly sore. He slowly lowered his head.

“If you’re tired, then stop, alright?” Zhou Yan gently smiled, holding the hand Jiang Lingxin held the sword with. The sword’s edge slowly pressed against Jiang Lingxin’s neck.

Jiang Lingxin felt a chill on his neck. He knew this illusion was tempting him to commit s*icide. As long as he exerted a little force and reversed the sword, everything before his eyes could vanish.

But why bother? Just as Zhou Yan said, since he was tired, why not just stop here?

“Will you stay with me?” Jiang Lingxin asked.

Zhou Yan kissed the corner of his eye, exceedingly tenderly: “I’ve been with you all along, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Jiang Lingxin smiled, closed his eyes, and said, “Zhou Yan, I am not being lured to my death by you, it is my own willing choice.”

Blood then fell onto the stone steps. Scattered points of light like fireflies gradually dispersed in the darkness.

Three days later, Mao Si led people all the way to the cavern, and on the stone steps not far from the exit, he saw Jiang Lingxin. His body was cold, his black clothes soaked in blood, and his expression calm. Mao Si stumbled and threw himself onto the stone steps, carefully picked up Jiang Lingxin, in a state that was half-crying, half-not, and frantically left.

Half a year later, the Tianyi Division changed hands. There was no longer a Jiang Lingxin in the world.

The morning light was faint, with a streak of pale sky. Shen Guan suddenly awoke, gasping for air, his fingertips trembling as they pressed against his chest.

Xiao Ning rolled over, opened his eyes, and said, “What’s wrong?”

Shen Guan composed himself and shook his head: “It’s nothing.”

“You’re drenched in sweat.” Xiao Ning sat up with him, reached out, and touched Shen Guan’s forehead, saying, “Had a nightmare?”

Shen Guan hesitated for a moment, then nodded gently: “Perhaps, I can’t remember…” Having just woken up, the corners of his eyes were red, and a layer of watery light gathered in his eyes, making him look very lost.

Xiao Ning stared at him for a while, then reached out and pulled the person into his embrace while taking a bite of the snowy white shoulder and neck beneath the loose collar. Shen Guan gave a muffled groan and pushed Xiao Ning away, saying, “The sun is about to rise.”

Xiao Ning pressed the person onto the bed, encircled Shen Guan’s slender waist, and said, “You can sleep longer later.”

Shen Guan: ……

When the sky was fully bright, Old Zhou came over to freeload a meal and saw Xiao Ning putting steamed buns and portioned porridge into a steamer basket, covered and kept warm.

“What? He hasn’t gotten up again?” Old Zhou casually asked while taking a large bite out of a bun.

Xiao Ning didn’t speak, the corners of his mouth were slightly raised.

Old Zhou, who was full and satisfied, lay on a rattan chair in the courtyard, squinting his eyes and chatting idly with Xiao Ning. Several pigeons flew over from the sky, flapping their wings and stopping at the window on the second floor.

After a while, Shen Guan rubbed his eyes and got up. He was stunned at first to see the grey pigeons by the window, then rolled out of bed, took two steps forward, and held the pigeon in his hands. He untied a slender message tube from the pigeon’s leg and poured out a letter.

Xiao Ning stood downstairs and watched as Shen Guan’s face gradually turned pale, his fingertips trembling. The morning breeze snatched the thin note from his hand, swirling it down from the window, where it landed right at Old Zhou’s feet.

The obituary was written in black on a white paper: the head of Tianyi Division died outside Yumen Pass.

Dusk was turning to night. Old Zhou led his horse to the ferry, accompanied by Xiao Ning and his family.

“Alright, go back.” Old Zhou handed the little girl he had been holding all the way to Shen Guan. Xiao Ning hung two more jars of wine on the horse’s back and, after thinking it over, still cautioned, “Drink less, lest you mess things up.”

Old Zhou smiled and rubbed the heads of Niannian and Xiao Yuan one by one, finally letting his gaze rest on Shen Guan. “On this trip of mine… if I see a grave outside the pass, I’ll light a stick of incense for him on your behalf too.”

Shen Guan lowered his eyes, nodded gently, and only after a long pause said, “Thank you.”

Old Zhou pulled Xiao Ning closer and lowered his voice: “The two of you should live your lives well, don’t stir up trouble unnecessarily. And… treat him well.”

Xiao Ning replied with an assent. Only then did Old Zhou feel reassured enough to board the boat. When he looked back, he saw Xiao Ning and Shen Guan bowing deeply by the shore, together performing a junior’s courtesy.

Old Zhou untied the wine gourd at his waist, took a drink, and waved his hand with a smile.

As autumn set in, the weather gradually cooled. The wind and sand outside the pass were intense.

A single person and a horse slowly traveled outside the pass, enduring the yellow sand and flying stones. A lonely round moon hung in the sky as night fell.

Zhou Yan spat out a mouthful of sandy stale air. Out of habit, he reached for the wine gourd at his waist, only to find it light and long emptied. He pushed back the broken bamboo hat on his head, his tangled long hair whipping wildly in the wind. A distant light was vaguely visible. He approached step by step, and it turned out to be an inn—an ordinary piece of hardwood for a sign, but the calligraphy was excellent. The four characters, ‘Ancient Path, West Wind’, were written with powerful strokes, perfectly fitting the sand and dust covering the entire area.

Zhou Yan tied his horse outside the door, maintaining some caution, and pushed the door open to enter. “Innkeeper, lodging.”

The inn door was wide open, causing the candle lamp on the counter to violently flicker a few times. The person standing behind the counter, operating an abacus, paused his hand and slowly raised his head.

The candlelight cast a dim yellow glow, catching the corner of his eye. Clad in plain, cold white robes, he exuded an air of icy aloofness. His voice, when he spoke, was also the clear coldness of ice hitting stone: “None left, it’s full.”

Zhou Yan leaned against the door, smiling until the corners of his eyes flushed, and said regretfully, “I wonder if the Innkeeper’s room has a large bed? Could you spare me a few inches?”

The frost in the innkeeper’s eyes gradually melted, and he slowly stretched out his hand: “Pay up.”

Zhou Yan stepped forward and grasped his slightly cool hand, putting away his smile and speaking gently: “Unfortunately, I ran out of silver on the road. Would taking me as collateral work for you?”

Jiang Lingxin’s cold hand was gradually warmed by Zhou Yan. After a long pause, he said, “I’ve waited for half a year, and in the end, I finally met you.”

Zhou Yan slowly embraced the person in his arms, sighing, “But I waited for you for thirty-two years, Wife.”

T/N: Ah xD I honestly don’t like Jiang Lingxin much but was really surprised earlier, I really thought he was dead.

Anyway, that’s it guys. I feel like this whole story was pure torture😂happy reading!