Chapter Ten: Cold Moon City

“Death—!” Du Gu Ling cried out loudly, eyes snapping open as he abruptly sat up in bed.

He looked around; it was a small room, furnished with a wooden canopy bed. In the center stood a round table, and across from him sat a man sipping tea.

“So you’re finally awake,” the man remarked, drinking his tea.

“Where am I? How did I end up here?” Du Gu Ling asked, bewildered.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t harm you. You’re in a guest inn in Cold Moon City. My name is Wu Junhua.” Wu Junhua paused, his brows furrowing with a trace of sadness. “Do you remember what happened before you passed out?”

“Before?” Du Gu Ling tried to recall. He had lived in Du Gu Village and was supposed to go hunting in the mountains, as usual. But they hadn’t caught anything, so the group returned down the mountain. As he retraced the events, a sudden memory struck him and he cried out, “Ah—!”

He remembered now: his village, his family, Du Gu Bo, Du Gu Hao, the village chief—everyone, everyone was dead. He held his head in his hands, trembling in terror.

Wu Junhua had expected this reaction. It was only human; to wake and find all one’s loved ones gone—who could bear such a blow? He quickly pressed several acupuncture points on Du Gu Ling’s body. Gradually, the boy’s agitated body and taut nerves began to calm.

“I suppose you remember everything now. Everyone else in your village is dead. You’re remarkably fortunate to have survived. I examined you just now—you’re not seriously injured, only suffering from blood loss. A few days’ rest and you’ll recover,” Wu Junhua said.

Du Gu Ling swung himself off the bed and immediately knelt before Wu Junhua. “Thank you, benefactor, for saving my life—and for avenging my family’s death.”

Wu Junhua hurried to help him up, but Du Gu Ling remained stubbornly on his knees. Wu Junhua sighed, “To call me your savior is fair, but saying I avenged your family is an exaggeration.”

“What do you mean?” Du Gu Ling asked, rising after kowtowing three times.

“Your great enmity has indeed been avenged, but not by us. Perhaps some other master intervened and slew that monstrous beast,” Wu Junhua explained.

“No matter. Still, I must thank my benefactor for saving me,” Du Gu Ling replied.

At that moment, the door opened. Two women entered—one strikingly beautiful, the other rather plain. They were Lin Xiwen and Lin Mengyao.

Du Gu Ling glanced at the door and immediately recognized the lovely Lin Mengyao. “It’s you?” he couldn’t help but exclaim.

Lin Xiwen frowned, glancing between Lin Mengyao and Du Gu Ling. “You know each other?”

Lin Mengyao quickly denied it, “No, no,” she said, giving Du Gu Ling a meaningful look.

Du Gu Ling remembered Lin Mengyao’s warning: if he spoke of what happened in the mountains, his life would be forfeit. He hurried to say, “No, I don’t know her. This young lady just resembles someone from our village, that’s all.”

Lin Mengyao breathed a sigh of relief. Lin Xiwen, however, remained suspicious, her brows still knitted.

“Senior sister, junior sister, have you finished your business? If so, let’s be on our way. We’ve been out long enough already, and I fear our master will worry,” Wu Junhua said, bowing to Lin Xiwen.

Lin Xiwen signaled Lin Mengyao. Lin Mengyao said, “All done. You two go pack up. I have a few words for him, then we’ll leave.”

Wu Junhua looked at Lin Xiwen, who nodded, and the two left the room, leaving only Du Gu Ling and Lin Mengyao.

Lin Mengyao spoke first. “You must have remembered what happened. Please accept my condolences. The dead cannot return; all we can do is live well for their sake.”

“My sister and I pitied your situation. Since you can’t return to your village, we found you a job here in Cold Moon City. Here’s the address—just give this letter to the steward when you arrive. It won’t make you rich, but it will be enough to live on.” With that, Lin Mengyao handed him a letter.

Du Gu Ling looked at her. “Is there truly no one else from my village who survived?”

Each word dripped with blood, and Lin Mengyao nearly burst into tears. She held back, refusing to let them fall. “None. But we burned Du Gu Village to the ground, hoping the dead may rest in peace.”

Du Gu Ling knew he could only accept reality. “Thank you, miss. I’d like to be alone for a while.” His white hair, somber and subdued voice, and determined yet weary features seemed to drain the very color from heaven and earth, as if all creation mourned for him. Though only fifteen, he now looked like a man in his thirties or forties.

Lin Mengyao, seeing him in this state, found herself moved by the raw masculinity he exuded.

She sighed. “Here are ten gold coins. Take them—they’ll last you quite some time.” She set down a heavy pouch.

She rose quietly, not wishing to disturb him, and slipped to the door. As she closed it, she opened it again and said softly, “If you ever need help, come find me at the Hidden Spirit Pavilion. My name is Lin Mengyao.” With that, she closed the door and left, unsure if Du Gu Ling had heard her.

Lin Mengyao exited the inn, where Wu Junhua and Lin Xiwen waited. The three mounted their horses, rode to the city gate, then drew their swords and soared into the sky atop flying blades.

Cold Moon City was the largest city for a hundred miles around, and flying was forbidden within its walls. Only upon leaving the city could one take to the skies. Of course, those truly powerful could ignore such rules, but for minor figures like Lin Xiwen, it was wise to comply, for the city lord was a formidable Nascent Immortal.

As Lin Mengyao flew, she unconsciously touched her chest. She realized with dismay she’d forgotten to ask Du Gu Ling whether the jade pendant she wore belonged to him. She had found it after the events in the mountains, found it curious, wrapped it in a pretty pouch, and worn it around her neck.

Ever since she’d started wearing the jade, her cultivation seemed to progress much faster, though she wasn’t sure if it was the jade or just her imagination. Regardless, it was warm and comforting against her heart.

Never mind. Next time she saw him, she could ask. But she doubted they’d ever meet again.

Meanwhile, Du Gu Ling, emerging from his grief, packed away the gold and letter Lin Mengyao had left him and set off for the place she mentioned.

Little did Lin Mengyao realize that she would meet Du Gu Ling again much sooner than she thought. Fate, it seemed, had already made its arrangements.