He and It Chapter 193: Inquire Here (21)

Chapter 193: Inquire Here (21)

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: GaeaTiamat

 

Yan Huan bounced up in a flash. He forgot the difference between reality and dreams, forgot his current situation. Everything he saw in the dream had shattered his courage and made him frantic with pain.

Maintaining his dragon form, he opened his enormous mouth wide enough to swallow the world, and swallowed Liu Fuguang, and brought him into a completely isolated space.

Liu Fuguang, “…”

Liu Fuguang felt a sudden darkness engulf him, and found himself in an endless gloom. He was longer standing on solid, smooth jade, but on a terrain that was sticky and slippery, reminiscent of the rough landscape of a throat.

He stood quietly for a while, and listened to Yan Huan’s muffled sobs and whimpers, which seemed to echo from all directions like an overwhelming wind.

Liu Fuguang maintained a calm expression, as he counted the seconds in his mind. After a quarter of an hour had passed, he decided not to wait any longer. He took out a lotus seed and pressed it against the center of his thumb with his right middle finger.

Even though he had lost his Dao-heart, he was still one in a million with a pure Dao body. As long as there was an external medium, the spiritual energy contained within his flesh and blood could still be released to some extent.

The lotus seed emitted a crystal-clear white light. Liu Fuguang flicked it with his hand, and like a sharp, glowing arrow, the seed shot into the boundless darkness, carrying the aura of supreme goodness and karma. It was like thrusting a red-hot knife into ice and snow, and Yan Huan’s crying stopped abruptly.

The dragon slowly turned his nine eyes, as the slight burning pain awakened him from his stupor. When he realized the foolish thing he had done, Yan Huan froze, and his sorrowful sobs turned into indistinct whimpers.

“I…I…”

He awkwardly opened his mouth and released Liu Fuguang, who emerged unscathed, though his gaze remained indifferent. The dragon’s form began to shrink, until he eventually curled up like a giant black rope at Liu Fuguang’s feet.

“I had…a nightmare. I didn’t mean to…”

Liu Fuguang said nothing. He climbed onto the bed, sighed wearily and closed his eyes.

Sleep was elusive, so he decided to rest with his eyes closed to regain some strength.

Yan Huan didn’t dare make a sound, nor did he dare close his eyes again. After some hesitation, he mustered the courage to indulge in his strong desire a little, and quietly slithered to the side of Liu Fuguang’s bed.

A term of endearment turned over in his mouth for what felt like countless times before he reluctantly swallowed it. Yan Huan said softly, “Fuguang…”

There was no response from the bed. Liu Fuguang’s face remained calm, his eyes closed in feigned sleep.

Yan Huan continued, “Fuguang, sorry for waking you. Are you having trouble sleeping? Could we…could we talk?”

The silence from the bed was deafening, but Yan Huan took it as encouragement. He swallowed nervously and softened his voice to a gentle murmur, like a soft-flowing brook.

“I still remember how you used to talk and laugh. I often teased you for being naive and sentimental, but in truth, I was puzzled. How did you always find so many good things to discover and explore?” Yan Huan spoke quietly. “Now you don’t need to say anything. I will talk, and you can listen.”

He thought for a long time. In truth, when it came to sharing experiences, he could only share stories seen through the eyes of extreme evil, which wasn’t exactly pleasant. So, Yan Huan racked his brain and hesitantly began, “I once saw something interesting in a small world beneath Xihe Niuzhou. There was a country called Mani with a flamboyant prince who prided himself on having many connections. He claimed to be friends with not only fellow officials but also various riffraff and even beggars on the street. His absurd behavior earned him a reputation for being gracious, but to me, he was nothing more than a pretentious charlatan. Even the cheapest courtesan had more substance than he did. One day, that charade would lead him to a fall.”

Despite the intent to tell a story, Yan Huan’s recounting was laced with sharpness and bitterness.

“I wasn’t wrong,” Yan Huan continued. “A few years later, the prince’s behavior became even more frivolous and ostentatious. Being of royal blood, he had no higher office to attain and was already widely renowned. Thus, he wasn’t satisfied with befriending only his peers. He declared that even playful fox spirits in the forests or wandering ghosts in the streets could become his closest friends.” Yan Huan chuckled, both amused and scornful. “Little did he know, humans, as the most sentient of all creatures, wield words sharper than nails. His desire to bask in praise blinded him to the impending danger.”

Yan Huan grew more comfortable as he spoke, and continued at a steady pace. “A few months later, while napping in his mansion, he felt a cold wind at the back of his neck. When he opened his eyes, he saw an old acquaintance sitting before him—a friend who had died several days earlier.”

“The prince was terrified but determined not to appear cowardly. So, he mustered his courage and engaged the ghost in a trembling conversation. The ghost, polite and respectful, did not tear him apart but spoke of its gratitude. It had heard that the prince was willing to befriend ghosts, so it came to pay a visit.”

Liu Fuguang remained silent, his eyes closed. It was unclear whether he was awake or asleep.

“The prince’s fear gradually subsided, and was replaced by excitement. Like a sick monkey, he hunched his shoulders and clapped his lips together,” Yan Huan described with malicious glee, as he mimicked the clapping sound. “Like this, ‘da-da, da-da-da, da-da.’”

Liu Fuguang remained unresponsive.

“Then, the prince grabbed a candlestick, and invited his new ghostly friend for a nocturnal tour. However, before they had taken many steps, the ghost suddenly stopped moving.” Yan Huan laughed quietly. “The prince turned to see that while the ghost had initially appeared almost human, just paler, its face had now turned deathly white, its eyes were like bottomless black holes, and its mouth was filled with sharp protruding teeth.”

Yan Huan was about to provide a vivid description when he remembered this was supposed to be a comforting chat. He quickly adjusted the narrative, “Well, there’s nothing scary about it. It looked no different from an ugly person…But the prince was terrified! He dropped the candlestick and fled. The mansion’s deep courtyards and the ghostly aura hindered his vision, and he ran without finding any servants to help.”

“The prince ran ahead while the ghost chased him. In desperation, he climbed a large tree, used it to escape over the wall, and jumped down in fright.” Yan Huan was about to reveal the conclusion, “But the ghost had already opened its long, narrow mouth to—” Then he changed the plot, “The ghost couldn’t climb the wall, and so he escaped.”

After he told the story, Yan Huan felt a sense of reflection. 

“That prince must have been confused, not knowing why the ghost suddenly turned hostile. But watching from above, I understood clearly,” Yan Huan said. “Humans have seven souls and three spirits. The spirits are pure and ethereal, ascending to the sky after death like steam, while the souls are heavy and impure, sinking into the mortal world like thick earth. When the spirits leave and the souls remain, the ghost loses its humanity and is driven by savage instincts.”

He paused before he spoke softly, “Fuguang, you see, a person’s soul is much like our situation.”

After he said that, Liu Fuguang remained silent, and Yan Huan also gradually stopped talking. After a long pause, he whispered, “These days, I’ve been thinking about many things. I know my sins are unforgivable, but I don’t know how to make amends. For a time, I even swore to find a way to reverse time. I wanted to go back to when we first met, back to before everything happened. But such methods are too unstable. Life is like a great tree, with every possible future event a branch extending from it. To change one would affect all. Even if I could reverse six thousand years, I couldn’t guarantee I would find you…I couldn’t take that risk.”

“The only thing I can ensure is that you are still alive…because I can still maintain a minimum of sanity, and not completely collapse into a heap of mud, even though I fluctuate between clarity and confusion.” Yan Huan said. “So I wait, and wait, and wait…”

Yan Huan’s voice grew fainter, like the gentle fluttering of an insect’s wings in the wind, like one drop of water merging into another.

—Liu Fuguang’s breathing gradually steadied, and became deep and even. He had fallen asleep.

Yan Huan smiled involuntarily. He maintained his current form, happily rolled over on the floor beneath Liu Fuguang’s bed, and revealed a segment of his tangled black belly, so that he resembled a contented house dog. His nine eyes blinked one by one before he slowly closed his mouth.

***

A few days later, at dawn, Yan Huan, now in human form, was seated in his dedicated medicine room, meticulously preparing Liu Fuguang’s herbal medicine.

Once the medicinal liquid was boiled down, he cut his wrist, extracting blood and separating flesh and bone. This procedure was done with practiced ease, a routine as familiar to him as breathing. After he finished the day’s batch, he started another, until he’d prepared dozens of bowls. With a thought, the boiling broth solidified and was preserved, seemingly frozen in a timeless space.

After he completed that, Yan Huan carefully picked up one bowl of medicine, wagged his tail earnestly, and walked into Liu Fuguang’s sleeping quarters. He repeated the routine of “feeding medicine—washing the bowl—holding candy” before he finally stepped out of the palace and squinted up at the overcast sky.

Initially, he’d intended to summon the queen mother, Xi Wanghou, directly to his side, but then he hesitated and decided to take a step forward instead.

The surrounding scenery spun like a kaleidoscope, and with one step, Yan Huan transitioned from the medicine room to Xi Ji’s palace.

When she saw the hem of a black ceremonial robe, the maid who was attending to Xi Ji’s grooming trembled and dropped the golden jade comb she was holding.

Through a round mirror, Xi Ji stared coldly at Yan Huan, her gaze venomous. Her fingers, which had been turning an ornate hairpin adorned with dragons and phoenixes, slowly tightened, scraping the scales on the golden dragon with her nails.

Yan Huan bowed slightly, as he maintained a polite and gentle tone, “Queen Xi.”

Xi Ji didn’t rise or turn her head. Yan Huan continued, “I apologize for the abrupt visit today. It concerns Fuguang’s health. I must go on a journey of indeterminate length. Please ensure he takes his medicine in my absence.”

Hearing the matter related to her son’s health and the news of Yan Huan’s departure, Xi Ji’s expression finally changed.

“This is the first bowl. He needs to drink one bowl daily for the next seven days. Starting from the eighth bowl, I’ve increased the dosage. At that point, he must take it every other day; otherwise, his body will not be able to endure it.” Yan Huan gave detailed instructions, “Please leave the used bowls in the medicine room. Do not take them out. I will handle them upon my return. It’s best if he drinks the medicine while it’s hot, otherwise, it will be too bitter. After he finishes the medicine, there’s a small white porcelain box in the jade cabinet by his bed. I often coax him to eat a candy from it. Of course, he shouldn’t eat too many—one or two pieces are best…”

Xi Ji’s eyebrows twitched, and then twitched again.

“…Speaking of which, there’s another thing you should know. This medicine is intended to repair his body and strengthen his foundation. Although the medicinal properties are gentle, the effects are potent. Apart from spiritual dew or a bit of harmless honey, Fuguang cannot digest anything else. Avoid food and drink, remember…”

“These matters need not be explained by you! My son will tell me himself!” Queen Xi abruptly stood up, and the table full of gold and jade clattered loudly, as she pointed angrily at Yan Huan’s nose. “Who do you think you are, to dare give orders on my son’s behalf!”

Yan Huan remained unmoved, and smiled gently. “Your Highness Xi, for all other matters, whether a thousand or ten thousand, Fuguang will inform you in detail. However, concerning his health, in order to spare you distress, he will not utter a word.”

His words struck her right in the heart, and left Queen Xi speechless. Yan Huan bowed slightly once more, turned away from the hall, and transformed directly into a majestic, sightless black dragon, as he rushed out of Tang Valley and soaring towards the endless directions; traversing the boundless universe.

As his true dragon’s body enlarged with the changes in space, it roamed through the intersecting worlds of the world sea. He was the one who bore the great sun, capable of grasping celestial bodies in his claws, the celestial behemoth.

Yan Huan thought deeply about it. To heal Liu Fuguang’s body, it would not suffice to rely solely on heavenly treasures. As the epitome of goodness, Liu Fuguang’s connection to the earthly realm was profoundly intimate. Over six millennia, the malice that had spread out of himself had even tainted the sun into emitting black radiance. With living beings in the world bearing flawed bodies and polluted hearts, evil spirits danced wildly while good deeds had nowhere to reside…so even the great Dao was compressing the space for goodness. How could Liu Fuguang possibly recover?

Therefore—

As he faced the darkened and blackened sun, Yan Huan ascended.

—He aimed to ignite the true fire of the sun and restore its brilliance.

The dragon god let out an ancient, hoarse roar, then bit down on the black sun overhead!

The dark fire erupted fiercely. It stained the solar orbit, submerged the crown of utmost evil light. From the sun’s core, countless shattered, black-red flames intermingled, until it resembled a magnificent galaxy spilling out, mingled with billions of colorful shattered planets.

Yan Huan stood in the middle of the raging storm, with a wind capable of melting the surfaces of celestial bodies into glass, a storm that could stir nebulae into molten lava. The intense heat from the solar core melted the dragon’s body and almost turned it into a flowing candle. He continuously absorbed the past impurities of the true sun, and swallowed the surging, violent light and heat into his belly.

This was no longer just a “blazing fire,” nor was it “sunlight.” It was a conceptual burning and boiling, akin to the Red Lotus Underworld spoken of in Buddhist teachings. ¹ The nine eyeballs on Yan Huan’s body spun madly, instantly charred and withered by the intense heat, their crystalline membranes cracked and shattered. In the next moment, the infinitely swollen tumors burst, while rapidly regenerating flesh sprouts waved like infant fingers…between every breath, that cycle had already repeated tens of thousands of times.

The Ghost Dragon swallowed the essence of utmost evil, the heat of the sun, the twisting and burning pain, the evaporation and melting agony. The dragon’s roar reverberated through the universe—he screamed and laughed hysterically.

The symbolic blackness of malice gradually faded away. What had illuminated the mysterious sun that had shone over the earthly realm for six thousand years, it now radiated a deeply ominous blood-red hue.

Ghost Dragon Yan Huan—no, perhaps he could no longer be called a dragon at that moment. His dragon horns shattered like collapsed towers. Once sightless, now even his dragon head was half melted away. His claws dissolved, his limbs scattered, the dragon god had exposed the filthy profile of his throat, the dripping muscle tissue twitched spasmodically, and was soon engulfed by convulsing blackened flesh and blood.

Yet he continued to laugh. He laughed through the burning, boiling, and pain. Countless tentacles dispersed into the faint light of the world sea, like dust carried away by the wind—a spectacle of his decaying bones, as his pus-filled nine eyes, pulsated with myriad grotesque nightmares.

In the heart of that blood sun, a cluster of golden-red flames suddenly leapt.

Yan Huan stepped back, retreated—his dragon body now more than half transformed. However, as he watched that cluster of golden flames, he had nothing to complain about. He swung his tail heavily, and smashed it into the blood-red sphere of the great sun, to alter its current trajectory slightly. Now, it could linger there for a few more rounds, and wouldn’t need to return to Tang Valley on time.

The evil dragon rose and swam back, his belly filled with unquenched magma, which made his journey unusually difficult.

Are you feeling a bit better? he vaguely thought, his mind still simmering from the eternal heat, as a slight turn caused a gush of blood vapor. However, it didn’t matter, nothing mattered. What mattered was that the slight pondering in his mind, to savor the sweetly dripping title, made Yan Huan burst into uncontrollable laughter again. His wheezing laughter was like the hissing breath of a snake nation in the deep mountains.

But I can’t meet him like this…

Yan Huan slowly turned his almost cooked brain. His grotesque nine eyes swayed like pendulums, as he examined his true self at this moment.

…It’s too hideous like this, it’s bound to scare him.

He sluggishly choked on his throat, then vomited a large mouthful of fiery liquid mixed with organs.

Hmm, that’s not right…

Immediately, Yan Huan overturned his own thoughts.

He’s so brave, so fearless…He wasn’t afraid of me before, and now he’s even less afraid. But seeing something unsightly would definitely ruin the mood, right?

Better to recover a bit first, then go back.

Having made up his mind, Yan Huan chose a small world at random and slowly descended with his fragmented true form.

***

“Come, my child, have a piece of candy?”

A snow-white, rounded sugar box was stacked with rich amber-like honey. Anyone who saw it couldn’t help but salivate and instinctively rub their fingers together.

Liu Fuguang sighed helplessly, “Mother…”

Queen Xi chuckled cheerfully, as she sat beside Cheng Zong, who was still playfully urging him on, just like when he was a child, “Have one, have one, have one…”

Liu Fuguang couldn’t help but laugh and cry. Compared to his parents, he seemed to be the more stable one.

With no choice, he picked up a small piece of candy and placed it under his tongue. The sweet aftertaste spread like scattered firelight, warm and comforting, seeming to flow straight to the core of his heart.

Yan Huan had been gone for over a month, only meeting with Queen Xi before he left, and causing quite a stir before he departed in a self-assured manner. Without that troublemaker rolling underfoot from time to time or crying and making a scene in the middle of the night, Liu Fuguang couldn’t help but feel relieved.

However, ten days after the dragon left, Liu Fuguang suddenly woke from his sleep. Pure fiery energy permeated the air for a moment, that left him parched and unable to sleep in the middle of the night.

He put on his clothes, sat up from the bed, and was surprised to find that his long-standing broken dantian showed signs of healing.

Although it was only a “trend” and true recovery hadn’t yet begun, it was unprecedented.

“What did Yan Huan do?” Liu Fuguang was deeply puzzled, and extended his hand to sense the movements in the air. As the epitome of goodness, he could clearly see elements that ordinary people couldn’t, like dancing spirits trembling in the transparent air.

He opened the doors of the sleeping hall, and leaned against the door frame as he gazed up at the sky.

The night sky was devoid of stars and moon, covered only by the dense clouds that had persisted for thousands of years, like a huge net obstructing the impure light of the mysterious sun. However at that moment, Liu Fuguang keenly sensed that something behind the dense clouds…had become much cleaner.

He didn’t mention that discovery to anyone.

Just as Liu Fuguang’s medicine was about to run out, Yan Huan returned.

In the eyes of others, he was still the majestic dragon god, with gold earrings and draped in a dark robe that seemed as unyielding as a towering mountain, but in Liu Fuguang’s eyes, he carried the scent of excessive burning, even in human form, unable to conceal the scars of thunder and fire. His nine eyes were excessively swollen, and half of his dragon horns were shattered.

In such a sorry state, yet he walked into Liu Fuguang’s palace as if nothing had happened. It seemed he had only been gone for half an hour. Queen Xi, holding a bowl of medicine, caught a glimpse of that sorry sight and her face almost turned green.

Yan Huan walked slowly towards him. Liu Fuguang’s gaze shifted, as he realized that Yan Huan wasn’t as steady as he seemed.

The dragon god first bowed to Queen Xi, then unceremoniously took the bowl from her hands. With a casual squeeze, the steaming medicinal soup, infused with dragon’s blood, turned into a negligible black ash, and dissipated into the air.

“I’m back, Fuguang. You don’t need to drink this anymore.” He smiled at Liu Fuguang, a smile that was both pleasing and subtly boastful, as if waiting for praise. “I’ve brewed a new one for him.”

Queen Xi almost jumped up, about to curse him for showing off, but Liu Fuguang frowned imperceptibly as he watched Yan Huan’s departing figure.

Wherever and whenever he was, Yan Huan’s nine eyes were always focused on him. Perhaps his vision was blurred or he was mistaken, but Liu Fuguang faintly glimpsed, on the side of Yan Huan’s dragon tail, the shadow of a tenth eye, flashing faintly in the void.