Chapter 360: The Shadow of the Abyss

They chatted for a while longer, and the night gradually deepened. Du Zhengyi set up several layers of perimeter alerts around them and began to distract himself with preparations. But the night was even more tranquil than he had imagined; this tranquility was not complete silence. Lying on the thick, soft cushions, he could hear footsteps in the corridor. The lightless laboratory had come to a complete standstill, and the Mages had suddenly all become idle.

Some Mages might have left their rooms to enjoy the night in the four gardens of the Highland Mages, where they could instead enjoy firelight and revelry. Other Mages might have been up to something in their rooms. His hearing was more sensitive than that of his average kin; he heard some rooms nearby being particularly noisy, and others noisy in a rather special way—perhaps some of his fellow disciples were engaging in a special kind of communication of love.

He did not care about other people's affairs, nor did he pay them any special attention. When the moonlight shone in, Luo Qi was curled up asleep beside him. With only him left awake, the sounds of others in his ears seemed even clearer and louder. He was no stranger to this feeling; he had a vague sense that he had spent most of his life in such a situation.

He was out of step with most people; even regarding his sect, he felt no sense of belonging. He had been attending classes since he was very young, and his coursework was far heavier than others'. Of course, he was not complaining; he himself had a strong desire for knowledge. The thing he was most satisfied with regarding Pei Shu was that he could arrange sufficiently reasonable courses for him, without making him feel too bored. He had never cared that he had no time to play, but sometimes he would stand far away at the window, watching those of his own age play strange, stupid games.

Later, he grew very fond of his own game; the life of a Battle Mage was his game. It was much more stimulating than the games Luo Qi played, with more parameters that could mutate and a game that was far less controllable. What capable boy wouldn't like that? But when he returned after winning the game, he could not find other players of his age. No one would discuss game strategies with him, nor would anyone share his victory. His peers were developing acne, their eyes lingering on the opposite sex. Every time he returned, he would feel that the atmosphere between them had changed slightly; he knew they had experienced some stories. These stories he watched from afar, relying only on guesswork. There was a faint distance between them, and he was as if situated in the clouds.

When he walked into the gates of other people's homes, he would see strange scrolls of life unfolding before him: parents shedding sorrowful tears for their children, hatred and heartbreak intertwined. He tasted complex family affection with a sense of detachment. Even the most twisted children would sometimes panic, reaching out their hands for help to their parents from afar. He was more capable of this job than others, more capable of ruthlessly severing the connections between them. Because he knew very little of this kind of family love, and had lost it too early, he would not be so panicked, nor would he suffer too much from the torture of empathy.

However, in truth, there were times—such as when he caught a glimpse of toys made by a father for his child scattered on the ground, or when he saw a mother clumsily making a scarf for her child by hand—that he would also be curious. Curiosity snaked through his heart like wild, growing vines. He would not tear at the vines; if left alone, they would wither. Or, they would quietly entwine in a corner of his heart.

It was not that he hadn't tried to experience these things. When he knew he did not have much time left, he had once panicked over this. He left Pei Shu and hurriedly added content to his life. Pei Shu did not stop him; he understood that he wanted to fill the voids in his life, and he respected all his choices. To him, he suddenly discovered that this world was not his world after all. The world he fought for and sacrificed for existed with a buffer zone between him and it—a constantly expanding estrangement. He made huge efforts and tried earnestly; perhaps he obtained some specious things from the world, but it was like eating wild fruit—it only had a bitter and bland taste. He was very suspicious, absolutely suspicious, doubting that the people he observed were eating anything of the sort. Otherwise, how could they reveal such sweet expressions, with smiles in their eyes and at the corners of their mouths radiating a kind of dazed look?

He pondered what he actually wanted. He wanted an unbreakable Contract, just as it is difficult for family members to abandon one another. Just as even if he were to run about and not see them for a long time, the other end of the Contract would not let go of him. Just as after he died, many years later, that person would still think of him. In short, as he saw his death approaching, he suddenly wanted a little bit of attachment, as if fearing that he would be scattered in body and spirit, losing his entire existence.

He suddenly reached out his hand and pinched Luo Qi's cheek.

Luo Qi let out a playful grunt, not yet awake, and turned over, burying his face in the pile of cushions.

Cunning, good-tempered, just as he was when awake.

Du Zhengyi felt a sense of satisfaction, as if he had finally accumulated a little property and gained a little status in this world.

Outside the walls, there were clear-headed people everywhere; the bored Mages enjoying the night and the Highland Mages solving troubles were all busy. If anything happened, they would not be isolated here. So there was nothing particularly worth worrying about. Du Zhengyi turned on his side, pillowing his head on his arm, and finally fell asleep as well.

The dream came faster than usual, a long-lost dreamscape.

Du Zhengyi once again walked into the deep corridors beneath Gushan. The floor, paved with blue-gray stone, was as smooth as a mirror, and blue moonlight fell into the corridor in an unreasonable way. This defied common sense; there would be no moonlight underground, so he vaguely knew he was dreaming. He knew that the shadow was waiting for him up ahead. Until not long ago, he had had this dream countless times, each one a simple repetition of that scene from several years ago.

Although it was a nightmare, he was already weary of it.

Knowing it was a dream, he no longer had the tension and anxiety of that day. That day, he knew he had to block everything from happening; that was his inherent mission. He was one of the few who knew the truth, and also one of the few who had to defend the rules. Luo Qi did not know this point; perhaps even if Luo Qi knew the truth, he could not understand it. The answer to a question might be open-ended, and everyone could have their own answer, but he was one of the people involved; he had a natural stance, and this stance belonged to him alone. He could understand Luo Qi's lack of understanding and acceptance, and he understood his own choices even better.

He reached the end of the long corridor. This time they did not fight; he just quietly watched that black shadow. That part of his memory was incomplete.

The black shadow looked back at him like the Abyss, and they stared at each other quietly. When this day truly happened, he had been full of anger because this person actually coveted the secret within Gushan. As an individual, what right did he have to covet this huge secret for his own selfish desires? But now he was very calm. He had grown a few years older, and having survived in the gray zone between life and death, many questions he couldn't figure out now had answers, or at least could be understood.

He looked calmly at the Abyss. He knew that pain could occur at any time; since that day, the pain acting on his nerves occurred from time to time when his will was at its weakest, for instance, after he fell asleep. He often woke up in pain, cold sweat soaking his bedding in the middle of the night. All he could enjoy were fragments of sleep, so he was always sleep-deprived.

"You have not surrendered yet," the black shadow asked him, its voice like rumbling thunder.

Du Zhengyi pondered. On that day, the black shadow had not asked him this question. They were just standing in the scene of that day, but it was not a repetition of the blurred memory of that day. This black shadow might just be a simulated projection of trauma in his mental world. However, to be able to carry out such logical reasoning in a dream, he must be being subtly influenced by Luo Qi.

"If you give up, you can have a peaceful, long sleep," the black shadow was persuading him. Perhaps it was he himself persuading himself. But no, he could not yet; it was not time. Now his reasons were even more sufficient than before. Now Luo Qi had not fully grown; he had not grown up enough to protect himself, and he still relied on him; he even relied on him for his mental world. He could not just walk away at this time. As long as he could hold on, he had to hold on for a while longer.

"That is meaningless," the black shadow said. But this sentence was very weak. Du Zhengyi did not doubt the meaning at all; this matter was of great significance to him.

Suddenly, just at this moment, a panicked voice shouted, "Brother."

He was startled. An extra fork appeared in the corridor, and a figure ran out from that branching corridor, the build familiar.

"Luo Qi!" he shouted in shock and anger, unable to distinguish for a moment between reality and dream, nor between dream and the mental world. He was anxious and terrified. Luo Qi, this cunning child, could sneak into every place he shouldn't be, not knowing that he was very easily hurt, nor knowing that he shouldn't have to suffer those things.

"Brother," Luo Qi shouted to him.

"Come over quickly," Du Zhengyi said, fearing he would be swallowed by the black shadow, "No matter where this is, you shouldn't have come."

Luo Qi stood still but repeatedly called to him again. He ran toward Luo Qi, heart pounding and burning with rage, wanting to drag him away. But when he ran to Luo Qi's side, Luo Qi's figure disappeared. He looked in bewilderment as Luo Qi appeared in another direction, standing against the wall, looking even younger than his actual age, reaching out to him helplessly, "Brother."

Brother, brother, brother—each call made him incomparably annoyed, and yet incomparably terrified. His composure, his poise, all vanished. He nervously tried to approach Luo Qi's shadow in the corridor, failing time and time again. Finally, he turned to the black shadow, "Is this a new game to torture me?"

He stopped chasing. Luo Qi appeared once again not far from him, his face full of disappointment and frustration, looking as if he were about to cry.

He turned his head away, hardening his heart not to look at his disappointment, "Just like before, no matter what new things you create, I can overcome them."

The Abyss looked back at him, "But don't you feel exhausted? The longer you live, the richer your life, the more material you will provide me. Your soul has been in an endless hell. The more you live like a person, the deeper into hell you will fall. You cannot keep your spirit taut forever. Every time you are negligent, I will drag you into the hot pot of hell. There is truly too much material of yours I can use. You have seen too many human hells, you have seen too much twisted human nature. Everything has just begun; I haven't shown you more possibilities yet."

"No," Du Zhengyi said, unable to help but glance at Luo Qi, "Impossible."

"The human world is full of hells everywhere, why is it impossible? Why shouldn't it be his turn? Besides, he is a deer in the forest, the focus of the chase; how long can you hide him?"

"No," Du Zhengyi said, realizing he had indeed become weak, because he heard himself say, "I don't want to see."

He didn't want to see; the screams also pierced his eardrums. The scene became more and more real. He had imagined all the impossibilities, and these impossibilities had all taken effect. But the one dominating all of this was the Abyss; it twisted everything he had imagined as impossible, reversed all his thoughts, and all the ways he had imagined Luo Qi might escape were realistically cancelled out. He watched Luo Qi's future over and over again in extremely reasonable, realistic scenes; countless situations appeared that Luo Qi could not solve and could not escape. His friends fell one by one, and Luo Qi was always the most miserable one, and the one who called for his help the loudest.

Even though he kept telling himself this was not real, the real feelings followed like a shadow.

"Brother. Du Zhengyi." Someone was calling him. He vaguely knew, but the sharp pain blurred his senses; he did not wake up.

Luo Qi climbed up from the pile of cushions on the ground, observed Du Zhengyi with sleepy eyes for a while, and called again, "Brother, wake up. What's wrong with you?" He reached out to push Du Zhengyi, but Du Zhengyi did not react. Luo Qi felt sweat on him. He thought carefully for a while, then reached out to touch Du Zhengyi's temple.

Du Zhengyi's dream changed again. He returned to his home, the home from before he was eight. He was physically and mentally exhausted, no longer having the joy of running into the house as a child, even though he knew he could see his mother. But he also knew he was destined to see his dying mother again.

He sat down in the courtyard of his home, silently calming the emotions from the previous nightmare.

A figure turned out from behind the rockery in the courtyard, still the familiar look, half his body hiding behind the stone, a bit timid. "Brother," he called, "Are you willing to help me?"

He was willing; of course he was willing. But he raised his eyes and looked at Luo Qi self-mockingly, "How can I help you?"

Luo Qi seemed like a dazed person, which was also normal; in the previous dream, Luo Qi had been castrated into a dazed person. He repeated, "Can you help me?"

Du Zhengyi lowered his head, looking at the familiar bricks and stones under his feet, "Let me wake up."

Suddenly, the world spun. Du Zhengyi went from looking down to lying face up. He stared at the ceiling above, breathing violently, his heartbeat like a beating drum. He shifted his gaze; Luo Qi was beside him, his fingers seemingly just having been withdrawn from his face. "What's wrong with you?"

He coughed to let his throat return to normal, as if he had just finished a sprint across the desert, his throat having breathed dry air violently. "Nothing, had a nightmare."

Luo Qi stared at him intently, as if not quite believing his words, and also as if guarding against him suddenly having an episode.

He looked out the window irritably, "Is it dawn already?"

"Just dawned," Luo Qi said.

Then this was the time he was most likely to get a good night's sleep, but he had no delusions about getting a good night's sleep today; he was still somewhat afraid of falling asleep. Besides that, he heard some strange sounds in the corridor, "Who is outside?"

Luo Qi shook his head, "I just woke up too."

"Let's go out and see," Du Zhengyi said.