He and It Chapter 220: Inquire Here (48)

Chapter 220: Inquire Here (48)

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: GaeaTiamat

 

The two of them circled around the Tian Shu Yumen several times, but found no further information. They retraced their steps, then left the same way they entered.

Yan Huan rarely felt uncomfortable, but being in an unfamiliar dragon’s lair, surrounded by traces of Ying Long’s past presence, was like wearing someone else’s shoes for them.

“Let’s wait a bit longer,” Liu Fuguang said. “On the Dragon Festival Day, everything will become clear.”

Yan Huan nodded slowly, as he adjusted his collar to make the illusionary disguise on his body shift as well. If anyone saw them, they would be terrified.

That night, they chose to stay at an inn. Since the area was close to the sea, the architecture had a unique charm. To avoid moisture seeping in at night, the inn was built in the style of a stilted bamboo house, with rooms hanging like fruit from trees then connected by wooden bridges. The furniture and beds were all light and hollow, with bamboo matting that was smooth, delicate, and cool to the touch.

Liu Fuguang found it quite interesting. He opened the window and saw the sea mist was swirling outside. The sky was obscured by a continuous, hazy rain, and not a single star was visible, there were only lights below which flickered one by one.

Was it the sound of the tide, the rain, or his own thoughts?

The world seemed to be turned upside down, with the land’s flames resembling a warm, orange galaxy. The misty, veiled sky formed the unpredictable Mortal Realm, while the sound of the rain seemed so distant and ethereal, like some grand whisper that called out to him.

The room was quite small, and he was glad to be alone. It allowed him to sort through his chaotic thoughts of the past few days.

After he admired the view for a while, Liu Fuguang reached out to close the window. As he was about to turn and rest on the bed, he froze mid-motion.

It wasn’t an illusion. Amidst the mist and rain, a voice was truly calling his name!

Liu Fuguang opened his mouth to call Yan Huan, but he hesitated. 

Maybe I don’t need to call him for everything, he thought. I have my own means of self-protection, and being alone isn’t without its own advantages.

With that thought, Liu Fuguang steadied himself, turned around, and gazed at the unending curtain of rain.

A shadow was gradually approaching.

He called it a shadow because it was entirely transparent, and only revealed a faint, blurred form through the dense raindrops that fell upon it.

The figure raised a hand gently and waved at Liu Fuguang, as if it wanted to say something.

Liu Fuguang couldn’t sense any malice from it. Hesitant, he climbed through the window, stood in the rain, and faced the shadow.

The shadow nodded slightly and turned to leave. Liu Fuguang followed. He noticed that the further he went, the weaker his connection with Yan Huan became. It dawned on him that the shadow was leading him away from Yan Huan’s perception range.

He cautiously stopped several times, and each time, the shadow paused as well, and waited calmly. When Liu Fuguang resumed walking, the shadow bowed respectfully, as if thanking him for his trust.

The shadow led him into a deep forest, then eventually stopped in front of a towering ancient tree.

“Muxing…” The shadow’s voice trembled in the air as it mingled with the sound of raindrops, “Please…save she…”

“Save who?” Liu Fuguang asked urgently. “Please be clear.”

The shadow didn’t answer Liu Fuguang’s question. It acted like a pre-programmed puppet, and delivered its message with rigid precision, “She is not a grave sinner…just…many errors…have led to…this great mistake…”

Liu Fuguang was puzzled, but he knew the shadow was probably just a messenger, and it was pointless to press it further. He looked at the scattered raindrops, and felt a mix of frustration and amusement. “You went to all this trouble to bring me here just to deliver a riddle?”

His smile vanished abruptly as he turned back the direction he had come. 

Oh no! Could the real target be Yan Huan?

He summoned a cloud of light and flew back to the inn. The icy mist whipped against his hair, and left behind a trail of shimmering frost that seemed to sharpen his senses.

As he reflected on the situation, he realized that targeting Yan Huan would be a foolish move. Only a madman or the most ignorant fool would dare to attack the Supreme Evil, even if he was currently weakened. Such an endeavor would be nearly impossible.

With that realization, Liu Fuguang slowed his return. As he landed outside the town, he was immediately struck by the deafening commotion coming from within.

He hurried towards the source of the noise and saw the panicked and enraged Dragon God nearly tearing the town apart in search of his missing companion.

“Fuguang!” Yan Huan roared in a bone-chilling dragon cry, as if he could remember nothing else but the name, “Fuguang—!”

The fear and dread of what might have happened to Liu Fuguang spun wildly in his mind. His half-blind nine eyes were almost split open in rage and desperation. At no other time had he felt such intense hatred for his own weakness and vulnerability.

What if he was kidnapped? What if he left him out of weariness? What if Internal Demon escaped and took him to exact revenge?

As Yan Huan was about to reveal his dragon form and search the skies, Liu Fuguang arrived and shouted, “I’m here! Calm down!”

Yan Huan turned his head, and stared at him in shock.

The dragon’s eyes were still dazed, unfocused, and had reddened rims. It made it look like he was about to cry or had already cried. The god’s massive body shook in the rain, and he resembled a stray dog more than a divine being.

“…Fuguang?” Yan Huan asked quietly, as he shivered uncontrollably, “You…you came back…”

He bit his lip, his throat choked with emotion, unable to fully articulate his distress. Liu Fuguang, when he saw Yan Huan in such a desperate state, already prepared numerous explanations for his late-night absence.

However, Yan Huan pressed his lips tightly together, and said nothing more. After a long while, he took a deep breath, and closed his nine eyes tightly against the rain, but Liu Fuguang could clearly see that transparent tears streamed down his face.

“…It’s okay,” Yan Huan choked out, not needing any explanation from Liu Fuguang. “It’s okay. You’re back, that’s all that matters. I…I was so afraid without you.”

At that moment, Liu Fuguang was overwhelmed with mixed emotions, and unsure of what to say. He looked around at the town that Yan Huan had ravaged, then performed a spell to restore the landscape, which made the night’s chaos seem like nothing more than a strange dream to the townspeople, and allowed them to go back to sleep.

Fortunately, coastal regions are prone to disasters, so the people there had developed a strong sense of survival. When woken by ominous sounds in the dead of night, they instinctively fled their homes with their families, and escaped with only minor injuries and had left behind the frightened dragon god who caused mayhem in the town.

Once everything was set right, Liu Fuguang guided the dazed and distraught Yan Huan back to the inn. Yan Huan sat on the bed, dripping wet as he hung his head in silence.

Liu Fuguang used a cloth to dry Yan Huan’s soaked hair, and sighed, “You’re so reckless…”

The moment Yan Huan heard Liu Fuguang’s voice, tears began to fall again.

Liu Fuguang slowly closed his mouth when he saw the water marks on his robes. He finished drying Yan Huan’s hair, gently folded the cloth, and placed it by the bed.

“…I’m afraid,” Yan Huan said in a hoarse voice. “You don’t know how scared I am inside. I…I keep worrying that this is just a dream. If I’ve been dreaming for six thousand years, why can’t I keep dreaming? I just pray not to wake up again. I can’t…I can’t go back to that place without you. I’m afraid…”

Liu Fuguang sat across from him, while the rain outside continued its endless lament.

“Talk to me, Fuguang,” Yan Huan pleaded softly. “Please, talk to me. What are you thinking?”

He timidly reached out, and carefully grasped the sleeve of Liu Fuguang’s white robe.

Liu Fuguang remained silent for a long time. The room was shrouded in oppressive darkness, though they could see each other clearly.

In terms of understanding others’ hearts, Yan Huan was more skilled than Liu Fuguang. He knew that Liu Fuguang’s silence wasn’t a good sign. His wounds hadn’t healed yet, and Liu Fuguang was already avoiding him. The longer he avoided him, the deeper and more infected the hurt became.

Their conflict would eventually erupt in full force as Liu Fuguang healed and as the balance of good and evil began to stabilize. In the past, Yan Huan had held the Eastern Swamp country, its people, his family, and everything he once cared about in his grasp, then used blood and flesh to bind his lover to him.

As for Liu Fuguang? He hated and feared him, and endured pain in front of him. As a form of retaliation, he buried all his emotions deep inside, as he tried to sever any connection between himself and the Supreme Evil for the sake of his parents, his country, and even the three thousand worlds.

The anguish Yan Huan felt upon realizing Liu Fuguang’s thoughts was overwhelming, akin to a searing, unendurable pain. For the Supreme Goodness, severing ties with the Supreme Evil would only mean one thing: death. Complete, irreversible death with no chance of return. And with Yan Huan’s death, Liu Fuguang would also cease to exist. This was a mutual destruction that would leave no victors on the battlefield.

Yan Huan could accept death, but he couldn’t bear Liu Fuguang’s indifference and detachment. He couldn’t stand the thought of Liu Fuguang turning away from him entirely, offering nothing but his back as he left.

When he realized Liu Fuguang’s intentions, Yan Huan was on the verge of breaking down uncontrollably, and cried desperately. He could no longer continue his “waiting for forgiveness” routine; he needed a more radical and effective solution. Thus, he inflicted intense suffering upon himself, and ignited the great sun and endured pain beyond the Red Lotus Purgatory’s capacity to inflict. He became weakened and broken, to the point where even Liu Fuguang was astonished and incredulous. And when Internal Demon seized the opportunity to execute its foolish plan, Yan Huan felt an overwhelming, indescribable joy despite his suffering. 

Trapped in the realm of Internal Demon and bound by the Dragon Binding Ropes, Yan Huan felt ecstatic. He manipulated and feigned anger to provoke Internal Demon further, leading it to pursue its plans with greater determination. He orchestrated his escape from captivity but didn’t anticipate Liu Fuguang’s response.

Liu Fuguang raised a Dao-heart to bind Internal Demon and rescue him. For Yan Huan, that act was beyond belief and brought him both joy and fear. He had wept countless times with happiness and dread over the realization that despite losing his divine form and dragon’s heart, Liu Fuguang was still by his side. 

Yet tonight, Liu Fuguang’s sudden disappearance from his senses threw Yan Huan into a state of panic and rage. The fear and pain were excruciating, as if his very essence were being torn apart. When Liu Fuguang reappeared, Yan Huan could only muster a faint ability to weep.

It was time. Through his posture, tears, gaze, and words, Yan Huan pleaded with Liu Fuguang to open his heart and share his feelings. He wanted to know what Liu Fuguang was thinking. Had Liu Fuguang, despite understanding him and the futility of the Supreme Evil, forgiven him? Even just a little?

“…I feel,” Liu Fuguang said, as he withdrew his hand and the corner of his sleeve. “That this is not a fate I can discuss.” Yan Huan’s eyes dimmed rapidly as Liu Fuguang continued, “Goodness and Evil are destined to remain apart.”

“And you?” Yan Huan’s voice rose uncontrollably. “What about your feelings? Are you…?”

“It’s late,” Liu Fuguang said, as he rose from his seat. His long hair cast shadows over his face, and obscured his expression. “You should rest. I am tired too.”

Yan Huan watched helplessly as Liu Fuguang walked away with resolute determination, as he chose once again to avoid the conversation.

After that, there were twenty days of tense and rigid atmosphere. Yan Huan racked his brains, and tried every possible way to persuade Liu Fuguang to speak, but he responded only with silence, until the Dragon Sacrifice Day arrived. They stood at the center of the land, and watched the grand ceremony that was renowned across the world.

The shamans, dressed in robes of various colors, sang and danced on the altar amid flowing clouds and sunset light. It was evident that they were playing different roles.

A shaman with a dragon horn on his head and yellow robes, danced around another shaman. The drumbeat was clear, and the jade instruments and sacrificial vessels struck in unison. He sang, “When things first began, who could foresee their future? Fate is fickle. Who can say who it favors or protects?”

— “When things first emerged, who could predict their future in detail? Fate is capricious. Who can clarify whom it protected and whom it shielded?”

Even though Yan Huan’s heart was troubled by the avoidance of his beloved, when he heard such a song, he was still mesmerized.

It was an extremely ancient song, even older than he was. It was composed and chanted by the shamans, with a melody that was lingering and affectionate, filled with deep emotion. In an instant, it was like the spirit of a shaman had descended upon the singer through the millennia and he heard an echoing voice.

“Where are the Immortal Lands of Black Water, Xuan Zhi, and San Wei? Where do their longevity and endless life reach?”

— “The immortal lands named Black Water, Xuan Zhi, and San Wei, where are they located? The people there live long and always laugh. How long will they live?”

The song became more melodious and sentimental, like a man’s playful words to his lover in bed.

“Nu Qi sews garments for her husband, and they dwell under the same roof, sharing a bed. Yet despite such deep affection, why did he still wrongly sever Nu Qi’s head, causing her to suffer disaster?”

— “Nu Qi sewed clothes for her husband, and they lived under the same roof, sharing a bed and pillow. Despite such love, why did he still mistakenly behead Nu Qi, causing her to suffer calamity?”

Yan Huan’s expression darkened. The singer’s voice also grew desolate.

“Min Fei was born of Yu, who joined with her mother. Why does the desire of gods differ from that of mortals, only seeking fleeting pleasures?”

— “Yu cherished the daughter of the Tushan clan and united with her, producing offspring. Why do the desires of gods differ from that of mortals, only seeking pleasures between day and night?” ¹

The final line was especially high and wild, as it nearly tore through the clouds and split the rocks. It radiated from the altar to the vast surroundings. Correspondingly, beneath the dark sea surface, a furious dragon’s roar suddenly echoed, filled with boundless resentment, hatred, and the pain of betrayal.

As he listened to the ancient sacrificial song, Liu Fuguang remained silent. When the dragon’s roar sounded, his body weakened and he fell into a state of unconsciousness.

Yan Huan was greatly alarmed and quickly pulled him into his embrace, as he focused his mind to stabilize Liu Fuguang’s spiritual energy and meridians. “Fuguang? Fuguang?!”

 

However, no matter how urgently he called out, Liu Fuguang could no longer hear him. At that moment, he was in someone else’s dream, curiously wandering about.