A Final Farewell in the Cold Night

The cries of battle shook the very vault of heaven. Yellow sand surged through the air. Chen Xianzhi stood in bloodstained armor, a blade in hand, moving swift as a specter. With every swing of his weapon, one more man fell, blood spraying across the ground.

The thick reek of blood filled his nostrils, but he felt nothing. It was as though he were not cutting down men, but wooden figures.

A black aura roiled around him, and in his eyes burned an unextinguished red. He looked less like a man than a killing machine. Beside him, a tiger as tall as two men fought at his side, tearing apart the enemies that pressed in from all around.

In the midst of the deadlock, at that very instant, a dagger flashed toward him. Chen Xianzhi was about to dodge sideways when the soldier before him was hurled away by a burst of force. He froze for a heartbeat. That presence was all too familiar.

In that moment, Chen Xianzhi seemed to go mad. The enormous tiger at his side followed as he hurled himself into the mass of struggling bodies ahead. He pushed forward at full speed, desperate to know the answer to something. His eyes were red at the corners, the tip of his nose flushed by the cold wind, and in the depths of his gaze lay a sorrow that could make one’s heart tremble.

At last, with the tiger’s help, he reached the base of the city wall. He lifted his head with some effort, and in that instant time seemed to stand still.

On the wall stood the person he had never been able to forget, day or night. Chen Xianzhi could not even tell whether what he felt for her was hatred or love.

She was still as she had always been: white robes billowing in the wind, sleeves flowing elegantly. Though the distance was great, Chen Xianzhi still gazed at her with greedy longing. He could no longer remember how many days and nights they had been apart.

Shi Xu’s eyes were full of compassion. She looked at the severed limbs scattered beneath the tower, at the raging demonic aura, and finally at Chen Xianzhi below the wall. In her gaze lay a grief he could not understand.

As though she had made some solemn resolve, Shi Xu formed a hand seal. At her command, spiritual power gathered around her, enveloping her whole being, making her appear both sacred and beautiful.

When Chen Xianzhi saw her movements, he seemed to stop for a moment. Then, coming to himself, his eyes went blood-red and he roared until his voice was torn raw. He leaped forward, desperate to stop what was about to happen.

He knew what Shi Xu intended: to exhaust her own spiritual power and, by her own strength alone, suppress the demonic aura ravaging the battlefield. He hated her for loving only all living beings.

“Don’t. Don’t do this. Please.”

In his hoarse voice there was the faintest trace of tears.

Shi Xu, standing atop the wall, looked at Chen Xianzhi. In her eyes was an unbreakable reluctance. She gazed deeply at his brows and eyes, at every part of him, as though she wished to etch him forever into memory.

By now, her divine power had already begun to fade, and her face had gone pale. Strand by strand, inch by inch, her black hair turned the color of snow. She was on the verge of vanishing from heaven and earth.

Chen Xianzhi rushed forward like a madman. He climbed the wall, faster, faster still.

Seeing that his reason was already gone, the tiger lifted its head and let out a howl to the sky. Its massive body seemed to sprout wings as it carried Chen Xianzhi upward in a leap.

Shi Xu’s gaze remained as it always had been: clear, pure, and holy. She looked at Chen Xianzhi and knew her own ending. Smiling, she gazed at him.

On Chen Xianzhi’s face was something between a smile and a tear. What remained there was a sorrow no one else could read.

Shi Xu’s body began to grow translucent, yet her spiritual power still streamed outward like a spring.

But she remained there all the same, like a statue of a sacred goddess, like the one Chen Xianzhi had longed for day and night.

Chen Xianzhi leapt down from the tiger’s back, stumbling a little. He poured his own spiritual power into Shi Xu, but it was only a drop in the ocean. He did not know when the tears had begun to fall from his eyes.

Shi Xu’s face grew paler and paler, her form unsteady as though it might collapse at any moment, yet the spiritual power around her continued to spill outward.

“No, no, this can’t be,” Chen Xianzhi muttered. They had only just found each other again, so why must this become their final parting?

“You’ve grown thin.”

Shi Xu’s voice was still as it had always been: clean and bright.

Chen Xianzhi ran forward and, without the slightest hesitation, caught Shi Xu in his arms. Looking at her there, she was still the same as in his memory: beautiful and untarnished.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” Chen Xianzhi roared, holding her frail body tightly.

Feeling the tears on her face, Shi Xu smiled. She raised a hand and touched his cheek, her eyes filled with unmistakable pain. She brushed away his tears, tracing every line of his face with her fingers.

At that moment on the city wall, Ji Yun, clad in golden armor and accompanied by a squad of elite soldiers, hastened toward them. His steps were hurried, stripped of all his customary grace.

When he reached the battlements, what he saw was the traitor Chen Xianzhi, and in his arms, Shi Xu, who had fled the palace.

How could this be? Hadn’t that master of occult arts said the Soul-Trapping Array could bind Shi Xu? Why had she broken free?

Ji Yun’s eyes were red. When he saw the demonic aura beneath the wall begin to disperse, he knew Shi Xu would leave him forever. Yet all he felt in that moment was helplessness. He stood there, staring at Shi Xu and Chen Xianzhi in the distance.

He raised a hand to stop the soldiers behind him from drawing their bows. Then, with a self-mocking smile, he let it out. Perhaps in the final moment of her life, Shi Xu would least wish to see him.

Below the wall, the demonic aura was dispersing. Watching the dark energy upon Chen Xianzhi grow thinner and thinner, Shi Xu smiled.

As though aware of Ji Yun’s arrival, Shi Xu did not look at him. Her eyes lingered on Chen Xianzhi with tender attachment, as though in consolation, as though in farewell.

“Chen Xianzhi, look ahead. For me, go and see the spring light.”

Her voice seemed very far away, yet also very near.

Fear filled Chen Xianzhi’s eyes. His voice trembling, he clung tightly to her. He did not want to lose her. They had only just managed to see each other again.

Seeing his expression, Shi Xu’s eyes were full of unwilling tenderness. She struggled to lift her head and lean closer to him.

Then she placed a very light, very gentle kiss beside Chen Xianzhi’s cheek. After that, the fingers resting on his face slipped away.

Chen Xianzhi froze. In that instant, it seemed he had lost all sense of the world outside. The whole world seemed to shrink to just him and Shi Xu.

He held her tighter, as if trying to press her into his very bones and blood. In that moment, he wept like a child.

Beside them, Ji Yun lifted his face. Tears slid from the corners of his eyes, and the fingers gripping his sword had gone so white with force that not a trace of blood remained.

On this day, Chen Xianzhi and Ji Yun both lost the one they loved most forever.

Chen Xianzhi held Shi Xu in his arms, and in his eyes lay a grief so deep it could not be dissolved. He clutched her tightly, as though she had never left at all.

But Shi Xu still slowly dissolved from his embrace into heaven and earth. Chen Xianzhi watched the light drifting into the air and reached out, selfishly trying to keep the final proof that she had ever existed.

He threw back his head and cried out in agony, his voice ragged and broken. Yet in the end, all of it was useless.

The only thing he could keep was a slightly rough white jade hairpin, the one he had given Shi Xu in his youth.

The soldiers behind Ji Yun were about to step forward and capture the opposing commander alive, and Ji Yun was just about to stop them when he saw the dreaded Demon King press a hairpin to his own throat and, without the slightest hesitation, slit it open. Blood spattered across the hairpin, staining it a vivid vermilion.

The advancing soldiers froze in place, and Ji Yun was likewise shocked by Chen Xianzhi’s act.

Chen Xianzhi fell backward, feeling life slip away bit by bit, and suddenly he felt an immense release.

Clutching that jade hairpin tightly, his eyes were filled with tender longing. At last, he closed them. In this world, there was no longer any Chen Xianzhi.

Ji Yun stood there, his face caught between joy at victory and grief at Shi Xu’s departure, a complexity of feeling that made his expression unreadable.

Seeing Chen Xianzhi collapse, the tiger seemed to understand that its master had died. It charged forward, howling to the sky, and carried Chen Xianzhi’s corpse away into the mountains and forests beyond the battlefield.

Ji Yun stood there in a daze for a long time, then gave a self-mocking laugh. In truth, his love for Shi Xu had never been as pure as Chen Xianzhi’s.

From then on, Great Peace successfully annexed Zhao Yi, and the realm was unified. In later generations, what remained was the record that Emperor Shunwu, Ji Yun, never once established an empress and left the Immortal Hall perpetually vacant.