Chapter 115: Living for What You Love

Under the moonlight.

Guan Changling lay on the ground, face turned toward the Maitreya Hall, his eyes dimmed, blood gushing from his mouth.

Hai Donglai sat on the threshold of the Maitreya Hall, lips purple, breathing heavy.

Cheng the Blind sat beside him, unhooked his wine gourd, and poured a thin stream of fiery liquor onto his thigh wound.

“Sssss!”

Cheng the Blind’s face twisted into a knot. “No wonder it’s Yu Hua wine.”

A liquor potent enough to ignite directly.

The sensation of it pouring over a wound was truly extraordinary.

Zheng Hui leaned against the doorframe, barely lifting his eyelids to glance around, then said, “He’s back.”

Chu Tianshu was drenched in blood, leaping over the high wall with a severed head in hand, stumbling slightly as he landed.

The force of Luo Han’s Stomp was too brutal—even with Palm Thunder mixed in, the way he shook his way through that entire path left his feet aching.

“I chased him all the way to Cuiyan Slope before dragging him back.”

Chu Tianshu glanced at Guan Changling and smiled. “You moved fast.”

Cheng the Blind said, “This man—no one knew why—but his initial strikes didn’t seem fierce, yet his endurance was astonishing.”

“I wounded him multiple times, yet he showed no sign of slowing. When he struck back, he nearly slit my throat, split my skull, and severed my thigh.”

Hai Donglai spoke slowly. “I’ve long wanted a full battle with Guan Changling. Before, it wasn’t convenient. Tonight, I finally saw his style.”

Guan Changling might not swiftly defeat opponents weaker than himself.

But even against those slightly stronger, he was very likely the last one standing.

“Good thing your sword pierced his occiput.”

Cheng the Blind said, “Your claim that you’re bad with swords? Clearly a lie to deceive him.”

Hai Donglai coughed. “I don’t train with swords much, but that move—I copied it from the former sword champion of Chang’an.”

Chu Tianshu walked closer, stepped over the threshold, and placed Duan Zhong’s head on the altar.

He righted several toppled spirit tablets, clasped his palms together, and bowed with closed eyes.

Hai Donglai and the others all rose to watch this scene.

Chu Tianshu turned back, gazing at the coffins outside.

At Cuiyan Slope, I used Hai's tone and mentioned this place.

“Some curious souls may come to investigate later. Who’ll stay behind to handle it?”

Hai Donglai said calmly, “I think I’m about to die. I need to go back and take my medicine.”

Zheng Hui’s mouth twitched.

After spending time together, he’d figured it out.

If Hai Donglai were truly near death, he’d likely not utter a single word about dying.

“Of course, it falls to this old man to handle it.”

Zheng Hui forced a smile. “This task won’t tax me much. Besides, among the curious, surely the monarch will come.”

“When he arrives, I’ll have a ready explanation—and then I’ll be spared the effort.”

Chu Tianshu pulled out several needles and silently inserted them beside his wounds.

“Alright. When Yi Muxun arrives, we’ll vanish.”

He rubbed his hands together again, and two silver needles shot into Hai Donglai and Zheng Hui.

Up and down, the needles glinted.

He split his focus, piercing different acupoints on each.

Cheng the Blind made it easy—just flicked one needle to dull the pain.

After finishing, Chu Tianshu retrieved his Sanqi Divine Sword, and his ears twitched slightly.

“Time to go.”

The three passed through the Maitreya Hall and then went to the Mahavira Hall.

Chu Tianshu leapt up and pulled down the Phoenix Wing Gold-Trimmed Mallet.

“You have a hobby of collecting weapons?”

Hai Donglai stared at the still-rebellious demonic weapon. “A fine thing indeed.”

Chu Tianshu said, “I don’t collect weapons. I just enjoy scattering demonic souls.”

“This thing won’t die anytime soon. Take it back to Zheng’s mansion and wear it down slowly.”

Chu Tianshu glanced back toward the Maitreya Hall—he could already hear Zheng Hui greeting Yi Muxun.

The three slipped away quietly from behind, encountering no obstacles along the way.

Night had not yet faded; most of Wang Cheng lay silent.

Households shut their doors, deep in slumber.

Many would gossip about Hai Donglai’s duel with Duan Zhong, but ordinary folk rarely went to watch.

Only when the swordsmen returned at dawn and spread word would the streets erupt in clamor.

Chu Tianshu carried the Phoenix Wing Gold-Trimmed Mallet, strolling down the empty, quiet streets.

The joy of that fierce battle hadn’t faded—it had settled, deepening into greater comfort.

“Come in haste, depart in haste, wishing we could meet; love in haste, hate in haste, all swept away by wind… a wild laugh…”

Chu Tianshu hummed a tune when Hai Donglai spoke beside him.

“Now that today’s affair is settled, the fame should be yours.”

Chu Tianshu laughed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sometimes, I do crave fame, care about what I gain in my hands.”

“But sometimes, I care more about what I can remove from this world.”

He’d just glanced—he saw that once his fate bar filled, he had only three days left in this world.

He was about to flee. Why still need a reputation?

Only the fame from his original world truly mattered to Chu Tianshu.

Cheng the Blind took a swig of Yu Hua wine, deeply agreeing with Chu Tianshu’s words.

“True. When one less villain walks this earth, at least…”

He walked on, murmuring for a moment, half-smiling, half-sighing.

“At least, one less villain walks this earth.”

Chu Tianshu heard this and couldn’t help laughing. “That’s a remarkably literary line.”

“But today’s battle? It’s like uprooting a tree—and accidentally snapping the roots of a whole cluster of poisonous weeds.”

Chu Tianshu thought. “So if you want to clear something out, targeting such a person is efficient.”

“One slash cuts down not just the living, but countless invisible things too.”

Cheng the Blind smiled. “Not my slash—it was your sword that cut through.”

Though he said it, the faint sigh he’d felt earlier vanished.

He would remember this night until the very end of his life.

Hai Donglai seemed still lost in thought.

“You don’t want fame, but you love scattering demonic souls.”

Hai Donglai said, “Then come with me to Chang’an.”

Chu Tianshu frowned. “Chang’an?”

“I collect demonic weapons.”

Hai Donglai whispered, “In my mansion, there’s a room filled with them—fourteen in total.”

“I often sit there, feeling nothing but cold malice all around, hungering to devour me, to slay me—yet unable to touch me.”

“It makes me happy.”

Chu Tianshu’s eyes lit up. “Fourteen demonic weapons! Actually, I—”

He was about to explain that he didn’t merely enjoy erasing demonic souls.

He did it because it benefited his cultivation.

Even if Hai Donglai had only intended to give one or two.

Chu Tianshu could give reasons—perhaps even offer to trade the weapons for healing—and get them all.

But before he finished, Hai Donglai said, “I’ll give them all to you.”

Chu Tianshu blinked in surprise. “Just because I like destroying demonic weapons, you give me all of them? Don’t you feel regret?”

“Does it need another reason?”

Hai Donglai asked.

“Liking is enough. Everything I’ve ever done, I’ve done because I liked it.”

“To repay you now? I naturally follow your preferences.”

Chu Tianshu stared at him, utterly matter-of-fact, then after a long moment, chuckled and clicked his tongue.

“Hai Donglai, you bastard—you live too well. I should learn from you.”

(End of Chapter)