UCS Chapter 149

Chapter 149

Zhang Wenxuan’s voice echoed throughout the dilapidated temple.

Fish scales spread across one side of Feiyu’s body while feathers sprouted wildly on the other; feathers radiating a white halo drifted into his hand, coalescing into a sword.

He gave the longsword a light flick, pointing it at Huang Shan.

Gao Gusheng glanced at the man he was pinning down—Zhang Wenxuan—and, gritting his teeth, delivered a vicious blow to Zhang’s temple with the hilt of his dagger.

Zhang Wenxuan let out an angry curse: “Kunpeng, what are you waiting for?!”

Gao Gusheng cursed under his breath, “He’s *still* not unconscious? Is the ‘protagonist halo’ really that strong?”

He sped up his movements, grabbing Zhang Wenxuan by the hair and delivering a sharp hand-chop to the back of his head. “Eat this, you bastard!”

Zhang Wenxuan felt dizzy and disoriented, yet for some reason, he remained painfully lucid—he simply couldn’t pass out.

Gao Gusheng grew anxious; he feared that the injured Huang Shan wouldn’t be able to dodge the incoming attack, yet he also worried that letting go would give Zhang Wenxuan a chance to catch his breath and unleash some other trick. Damn it—killing a piece of human trash like this would just count as accumulating some karmic merit!

His eyes turned bloodshot; he gripped the dagger tightly and aimed it straight at Zhang Wenxuan’s heart—

Just then, a thunderous boom rang out, causing everyone to turn and look.

They saw the feather-sword in Feiyu’s hand suddenly shatter, dissolving back into a cloud of snow-white spiritual energy.

Huang Shan had assumed an offensive stance; the look of grim determination on his face faded into bewilderment. A spherical protective barrier now enveloped him, shielding him from harm and blocking Feiyu’s attack.

A faint, snow-white spiritual glow emanated from his shoulder, shining through the layers of his clothing—looking for all the world like a small, snow-white beast perched there.

Feiyu slumped like a puppet with severed strings; the red light in his eyes flickered erratically as he froze in place. Blood, tinged with a faint violet hue, welled up from the corners of his mouth.

He dropped abruptly to his knees.

“It hurts…”

Clutching his chest, he looked as lost and bewildered as a helpless child, frantically searching for a grown-up’s presence as moisture welled up at the corners of his eyes.

“Mutou… it hurts so much…”

Huang Shan instinctively wanted to rush forward but forced himself to stop; he feared this might be one of Zhang Wenxuan’s tricks.

Seeing Huang Shan’s reaction, Feiyu felt as though his heart had been torn out and crushed—the pain was so intense it nearly suffocated him. A flood of memories surged into his mind, making his head throb with agony. He didn’t want to think about them; he only wanted to press himself against the person before him and hold him close.

He couldn’t understand why, upon waking up, his beloved had turned a blade against him. —No, that couldn’t be. Even though “Mutou” is dense and blunt, he would never hurt me. So… was it *me* who hurt *him*?

—Did I lose my memory?

—It was after I lost my memory that I injured him.

Feiyu looked at Huang Shan; he instantly recognized the extent of the injury and the snow-white mark on his shoulder.

—It’s my fault. I’m the one who hurt him—that’s why Mutou is angry.

Feiyu staggered forward. Seeing the blood at the corner of Huang Shan’s mouth, his eyes turned red and his body trembled; the rage and self-loathing he felt nearly made him lose control of his own limbs.

“I’m sorry…” Feiyu abruptly slashed his wrist. The blood did not spray outward; instead, it surged toward Huang Shan.

Huang Shan dodged warily, and the spray of blood fell to the ground.

Feiyu silently slashed his wrist again; this time, the blood flowed faster. Huang Shan, already injured, had exhausted his strength dodging the previous burst and could not evade this one at all. The blood surged entirely toward him.

This time, the protective barrier failed to block it.

As soon as the blood neared Huang Shan, it flew toward his shoulder, staining the snow-white mark a faint red. A wave of warmth surged through Huang Shan’s body, and in the blink of an eye, the pain in his chest vanished. Feiyu watched the watery-red halo around him fade away; with reddened eyes, she asked him—her tone a mix of accusation and pleading—”Yellow Blockhead, you promised that if you ever lost your memory, you would come looking for me.”

Gao Gusheng was taken aback by this sudden shift. He hurriedly looked down at Zhang Wenxuan beneath him, only to see that Zhang—who had moments ago been acting so ferociously—now looked utterly deflated and defeated. Zhang muttered in disbelief, “Impossible… it’s impossible. How could a Kunpeng with such a bloodline be willing to use their primal essence to protect a mere mortal…?”

Kunpeng of mixed lineage often required sleep to awaken their ancestral memories; upon waking, they were frequently disoriented, unsure of the time or their surroundings. Countless numbers of them had been exploited during these vulnerable states; many, having lost their memories, fell under the control of enemies and were forced to turn their hands against their own loved ones.

To counter this, a Kunpeng once devised a method to transform their primal essence into a protective mark for their cultivation partner, ensuring they would never commit acts they would later bitterly regret.

Yet, human hearts are fickle. The very Kunpeng who created this method was ultimately killed by the partner who coveted their inner core. Similar tragedies plagued the Kunpeng lineage thereafter, and so, the technique was sealed away and abandoned.

Huang Shan recalled an anecdote about the Kunpeng that Ying Bujie had once mentioned in passing. He touched the white light glowing on his shoulder and neck, stunned into silence.

He remembered so many nights of passion, where Dongxue would repeatedly confirm his presence, as if reassuring himself he was truly there.

Dongxue had always seemed so anxious—terrified that he might one day lose his memories of him, and even more terrified that he might accidentally hurt him.

【You must come find me!】

【Hmph, even if I lose my memory, I’ll still… *ahem*… I’ll still begrudgingly fall for you. So, you absolutely must not forget me.】

【Here, take this pen. You’re so frail, Huang Mutou—if I were to accidentally blow you to death after losing my memory, where would I even go to cry?】

He accepted the pen with a wry smile; Dongxue’s gaze seemed to drift a little that day, and Huang Shan assumed he was simply shy.

That night, Dongxue had been relentless with him, pushing him so hard it felt as though his waist might snap; in the haze of the moment, he felt him gently bite his shoulder, letting out a soft, triumphant hum.

[This way, you can’t run away.]

Dongxue loved biting his shoulder.

At some point, a red bite mark had appeared there; because it didn’t hurt, he hadn’t even realized when it had happened.

After Dongxue vanished, every time he saw that mark, he would recall Dongxue’s voice—repeating the same words with a mix of threat and pleading.

[You have to come find me.]

[Even if I lose my memory, I’ll fall for you all over again—you have to come find me.]

Sometimes Huang Shan would tease him, saying he sounded like a young monk chanting sutras; at those moments, Dongxue would pounce with claws bared, looking just like a cat with its fur standing on end.

Huang Shan couldn’t help but smile, but when he looked up again, there was no one in the mirror but himself.

…

Feiyu had lost too much blood; his face was pale, and even his lips had lost their color.

He was dressed entirely in snow-white, save for the vibrant red cord tying back his disheveled hair.

He looked at Huang Shan like a criminal awaiting a verdict.

The only judge capable of passing sentence on him raised his eyes, his lips trembling slightly as he whispered, “…Dongxue?”

***

Gao Shi and Ying Bujie only began to recover after Kong Miao fed them several medicinal pills.

As soon as Kong Miao’s cloud arrived at the spot where Ran Qiu had sent the signal, Gao Shi hurriedly scrambled off, nearly tumbling over; Ying Bujie, standing nearby, rushed to steady him but almost fell to the ground right along with him. Kong Miao, speechless, grabbed one of them with each hand. “Let’s go; when it comes down to the wire, you still have to count on the old Daoist.”

As he stepped off the cloud, Kong Miao—whose spiritual energy was completely depleted from the journey—looked even worse off than the other two; had Gao Shi and Ying Bujie not stepped in to steady him, he would have face-planted right there in front of everyone.

The trio had barely taken a few limping steps when they saw Ran Qiu—who had come running at the sound of their arrival—hopping out on one leg. Overjoyed to see Gao Shi, he panted out:

“Boss! You’re finally here! It’s a disaster! I couldn’t hold him back—you’ve got to go take a look!”

At these words, the color drained from Gao Shi’s face; Ying Bujie and Kong Miao looked equally alarmed, and the three of them rushed into the dilapidated temple.

There, they saw Gao Gusheng gripping Zhang Wenxuan by the collar with one hand while punching him in the face with the other.

“Scum! Degenerate! I have never seen such a shameless wretch!”

His fists swung with fierce, whistling force.

Hearing the commotion, Gao Gusheng looked up and exclaimed in surprise, “Dad? How did you guys get here?”

Ran Qiu, who had hurriedly hopped back over, panted out the rest of the sentence:

“—If you hadn’t come, Lele would have beaten Zhang Wenxuan to death!”

“…Um, Captain Gao, why are you looking at me like that?”

##