Chapter Sixty-Nine: A Story (1)

Update time: 2013-07-03

Lian Yue composed herself, silently cheering herself on, then stepped toward Yu Wen Lingxi.

“Well… let me help you,” she said, trying her best to keep her voice sounding normal.

In truth, the moment Lian Yue stood up, Yu Wen Lingxi had already caught her movement out of the corner of his eye. He thought she was going to use the opportunity to distance herself from him, but seeing her approach, he was rather surprised.

Now it seemed he had underestimated her. Although she was still somewhat nervous, this initiative was not a bad start.

Yu Wen Lingxi divided the branches he’d just gathered into one large and one small pile, pointed at the smaller one, and said, “Take these back.” Then he picked up the larger pile himself and walked toward the fire pit.

Lian Yue hurriedly bent down to scoop up the smaller pile and followed closely behind him.

She was curious why he needed so much firewood, but didn’t dare ask. She simply did as Yu Wen Lingxi said, no questions asked.

“Go pick up some dry leaves,” he instructed.

Lian Yue quickly gathered some leaves and brought them back.

“Find a few stones and bring them here.”

Without the slightest complaint, Lian Yue locked her gaze on two larger stones nearby, rushed over, rolled up her sleeves, summoned all her strength, and bent to lift one.

“Too big. Stones about the size of two fists will do.”

Lian Yue abandoned her original choice and, making use of the remaining daylight, searched nonstop for stones of the right size and hurried to deliver them to Yu Wen Lingxi.

In short, whatever Yu Wen Lingxi asked her to do, Lian Yue would not utter a word of protest. She constantly reminded herself: he’s an assassin. No matter how kind he may seem, she couldn’t let herself get carried away. Otherwise, if she slipped up, she might lose her head the very next instant, and there’d be no time to regret it.

“Go wash your hands.”

Lian Yue darted to the pond’s edge, washed her hands thoroughly, and obediently returned to Yu Wen Lingxi’s side, awaiting his next command.

“Sit down,” Yu Wen Lingxi said, finally defeated by her unwavering compliance. Seeing her so cautious and obedient made him uncomfortable; he felt it was time to have a proper talk with her.

Lian Yue sat on the grass, feet together, back straight, not daring to relax for an instant.

Yu Wen Lingxi sighed helplessly and sat down on the grass, looking at her. “You’re still afraid I’ll kill you, aren’t you?”

Lian Yue’s heart skipped. What did he mean by this? How was she supposed to answer?

In the end, she simply lowered her head and nodded.

“If I told you I would never harm you, that I would always protect you, would you believe me?” Even Yu Wen Lingxi’s usually composed heart beat faster with anxiety.

Lian Yue jerked her head up, staring in disbelief at the earnest man before her, then quickly bowed her head again and whispered, “I don’t know.”

Afraid he’d misunderstand, she hurried to explain, “My instincts and experience tell me I can trust you without question, but your identity as a member of the Dark Underworld makes me uncertain. I’m afraid that if I make one wrong move, I’ll end up dead. I don’t want to die; there’s still so much I want to do. So I really don’t know.”

Lian Yue’s honesty caught Yu Wen Lingxi off guard, and he couldn’t help but smile bitterly. So it was still because of his identity. If this misunderstanding continued, and she learned one day that the Dark Underworld was Yu Wen Lingxi and Yu Wen Lingxi was the Dark Underworld, would she find it even harder to accept?

“I understand. Would you like to hear a story?”

Do I have a choice? Lian Yue protested silently, but still nodded.

Yu Wen Lingxi used a stick to poke at the burning branches, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. For the first time, he began to speak of his own past.

“Once there was a little boy from a fairly wealthy family. His father was a powerful figure. Before he turned five, he didn’t spend much time with his father, but his father’s occasional care and guidance made him happy for a long time. All in all, the young master’s days weren’t bad.”

Lian Yue thought, “If that’s not bad, he really is easy to please.” But she only thought this to herself, keeping her expression attentive.

“But that year, something major happened, and from then on his fate changed.”

At this point, Lian Yue wanted to ask what had happened, but couldn’t summon the courage, so she simply listened quietly.

“When he was six, he was sent to a remote mountain. There, he saw over a thousand children about his age. They were divided into groups of a hundred, each led by a stern-faced, taciturn man into a room big enough to hold them all, where they ate and slept.”

“The boy was delighted. Though the food and lodging weren’t as good as at home, he made many friends and even felt grateful to his father for sending him there. It was much more interesting than reading or practicing martial arts alone at home.”

Lian Yue was shocked—was there really such a place in the Empire of Neon Garments? In her mind she pictured a group of children playing together, longing for the experience herself. If only she could have gone too.

But just as this thought appeared, Yu Wen Lingxi’s next words snuffed it out mercilessly.

“But when our group of one hundred had finally formed friendships and alliances, those good days came to an end.”

Yu Wen Lingxi closed his eyes lightly. If he could, he’d rather never recall this memory for the rest of his life.

“One morning, all those children, still basking in comfort, awoke to find every exit and window nailed shut from the outside. At first, they thought it was a prank, but as the hours passed and no one came, panic set in—they began to shout and cry.”

“The boy, still sleepy and confused, soon heard the cold, indifferent voice of their overseer from outside: ‘If you want to survive, kill the others in the room. There are fifty weapons inside; find them yourselves. When only ten remain, the game ends.’”

Here Yu Wen Lingxi paused, a deep sorrow emanating from him. He looked at Lian Yue. “Do you want to hear the rest?”

As clever as she was, Lian Yue had already guessed this was his own story, a memory too painful to revisit. Yet there was a voice within that compelled her, and she nodded almost involuntarily.

Yu Wen Lingxi’s gaze returned to the dancing flames, his voice calm as he continued.

“When that man’s words fell, the entire room fell so silent you could hear a spider spinning its web in the corner. The children looked at each other—confused, terrified, wary…”

“Then, who knows who started it, but suddenly chaos erupted. They tore through everything, searching for weapons. The boy’s sleepiness was instantly replaced by terror. Instinctively, his small hand reached under the bedding, where he remembered seeing a sword.”

“When he pulled out the sword, he realized his usual playmates were looking at it with eyes transformed—like hungry wolves, staring hungrily at that otherwise unremarkable blade. That was the first time the boy killed. The blood of his companion splattered across his face; he wiped it away, but the red was glaring, unforgiving.”

The telling of the story transported Lian Yue into that room. She saw the crowd of children transformed into raging beasts, attacking those around them in a desperate bid for survival. The night was now pitch black, and she instinctively edged closer to the fire.

“There was nothing but slaughter. The boy lost count of how many friends he’d killed, changing from terrified and passive to numb and proactive.”

Yu Wen Lingxi spread his hands in the firelight, as if he could still see them stained with blood.

“The stench of blood grew thicker and thicker; everyone’s eyes were red with killing. Even when only ten were left, the fighting didn’t stop.”

“Not until the door finally creaked open and that cold voice ordered them to stop did the killing end. In that room, from one hundred, only six remained. Each survivor was soaked in blood, their clothes drenched and dripping onto the floor, their faces empty and lifeless.”

“In those days, the boy still naively believed his father knew nothing about this. He wanted his father to take him home. Even without friends, without anyone to talk to, it didn’t matter—so long as he could leave that nightmare.”