Volume Two: The Mortal Realm Chapter 129: Beneath the Eaves

Xu Zixian did not ultimately refuse Ye Mingke’s request; he only asked him a single question in return.

"If you make your move, what will become of A-Ru?"

The dark figure had departed, yet that question continued to echo in Ye Mingke’s ears.

Ye Mingke sat before the window, much like the uncle who had sat silently in the quiet nights for countless years, his fingers rhythmically and soundlessly tapping the table before him. Had that uncle, who spent sixteen years in the small town and suffered through countless sleepless nights, also been trapped by something?

Lost in deep contemplation, he did not notice that A-Ru, whom he had assumed was fast asleep, had opened her eyes at some point. She watched the pale, suppressed expression of the young man under the moonlight in silence.

He, too, possessed a childlike fragility—the same fragility she bore herself.

…

Dawn had begun to break, painting the horizon in a pale, fish-belly white. Liu Xi had not returned, and the adjacent room, illuminated by the faint morning light, stood empty; they had already cleared away all their belongings.

The final night had come to an end.

Amidst the weak morning glow, a brilliant sword light silently crossed the courtyard, transforming into a delicate, elegant small sword that hovered before Ye Mingke. Resting upon the blade was the letter he had been waiting for these many days.

Ye Mingke reached out toward the sword. He paused just before making contact, but in the end, he took the letter.

He broke the seal. Jagged, aged paper slid from the envelope, carrying with it a past long forgotten. Perhaps the paper itself did not know that it had once borne all the beautiful aspirations of a man who was now dead.

The faint morning light spilled onto the old paper, casting tiny, fragmented spots of light. Through the cold, concise, and scattered records on the pages, Ye Mingke gradually caught a glimpse of that incredibly dark and bloody story from ten years ago—that story which was also, at once, the warmest and most luminous.

Ye Mingke turned his head to look at A-Ru, who lay sleeping with her eyes closed on the bed, and lowered his gaze.

The sun had risen. He took out everything remaining in the envelope to ensure nothing was missed. The final items were the jade pendant belonging to A-Ru and the file classification slip used to seal these documents. On it were words as crimson as fresh blood:

"Xianyin Pavilion." Annotation: Extinct, no survivors, filed as discarded item.

Ye Mingke silently tucked all the materials back into the envelope.

The day had fully dawned, and a clear, warm winter sun hung over the courtyard wall. After putting the letter away, he went out to prepare breakfast for A-Ru.

A faint wisp of cooking smoke and the aroma of food gradually drifted through the courtyard. When Ye Mingke stepped out of the kitchen, A-Ru had already washed and was sitting at the stone table where they usually ate.

She wore her prettiest dress and had her hair tied in those two familiar little braids, just as she had appeared when Ye Mingke first saw her in the mountain cabin. Yet, having endured so much, though she remained a ten-year-old child, the mischievous and joyful smile she once had while racing through the mountain snow was gone.

She looked so quiet—quiet in a way that stirred pity and sorrow.

In the quiet atmosphere, the two finished their congee and breakfast, setting down their bowls and chopsticks.

Ye Mingke was silent for a moment, then said softly, "A-Ru, I am going to take you somewhere."

A-Ru, who had stayed in the small courtyard for many days, showed no sign of surprise; she simply nodded quietly. Her large eyes were very calm—incredibly calm, devoid of any color.

Ye Mingke did not take her out immediately. Instead, he returned to his room to strap on the sword case covered in black cloth and the Human Sword before returning to the courtyard to take A-Ru’s hand.

They opened the door and stepped out. This was the first time they had left the room in half a month.

Ye Mingke carried a heavy burden in his heart. He had not left since arriving because there were many things restraining him.

Usually, one could feel the bustle of the streets even through the courtyard walls, but today, as they walked along the main thoroughfare, it felt eerily quiet. The few pedestrians on the road wore tense expressions, their steps hurried. The entire city of Yangjing was shrouded in a silence and oppression that everyone could feel.

Yet, amidst this stillness, every so often, a loud and clear bell tolled from the most magnificent high platform in the center of the capital. That platform was so gilded and towering that anyone in Yangjing, merely by looking up, could clearly see the divine pillars, reliefs, sacred banners, and the massive statues of deities standing upon it.

Today, however, the platform held more than just those things. It was as if all the vitality of Yangjing had concentrated on the Ascension Platform. Although the ritual was not to be held until dusk, by this morning, the platform was already crawling with laborers and peasants busy like ants, with many immortals hovering in the air above, monitoring and directing everything.

Snow had begun to drift from the sky, yet the warm sun still shone; bits of bright yellow sunlight and crystalline white snowflakes fell together from the heavens.

Ye Mingke held A-Ru’s hand as they walked through the streets of Yangjing. He saw much; he saw the prosperity built upon the gathered wealth of the human world, and he saw the shriveled darkness and fear beneath that splendor.

He saw wealthy mortals being carried hurriedly in ornate litters, wearing plain white immortal robes with long, flowing sleeves. He saw immortals passing by on flying swords, dressed in gaudy finery, bedecked in gold and silver like the most vulgar of local rich men—much like Yi Lao-liu and Yi Eleven, whom he had encountered first.

He saw people who, sensing the terrifying atmosphere enveloping Yangjing, lit incense in their homes and prayed with fear and worry. With his spirit-eyes opened, he also saw several human martial artists, dressed as ordinary people but with cold light in their eyes and weapons concealed in their robes—perhaps members of that shadow organization known as "Winter."

*Clang.*
*Clang.*
*Clang.*

With every toll of the bell, whether they were rich, commoners, immortals, or martial artists carrying blades, they could not help but look up at the high platform. But Ye Mingke did not. He watched the falling snow and the sunlight, he watched the pedestrians on the street, and he watched A-Ru, who followed him without looking up either, but he steadfastly refused to look at the platform.

Although thirty thousand lives might be plundered on that platform, there was a more important matter to attend to. Even if it only concerned the traces of a life already extinguished, the calculation of the weight of a life was often extremely complex—especially when it concerned one’s own.

After walking down the long streets, following the map sent by Sword Nine, Ye Mingke finally reached his destination.

They had left the most prosperous center of the capital, and the surrounding buildings were much sparser. A particularly grand archway stood before them, its tattered red characters faintly identifiable as "Xianyin Pavilion," and beside the characters was an engraved motif of a peony flower. The ornament was identical to the jade pendant in A-Ru’s possession.

Behind the archway lay a stretch of ruins. Burned, charred wooden buildings leaned at angles, blocking all sunlight from that direction. At the base of the ruins, hardy weeds had grown to waist height. As the wind and snow passed through the teetering structures, the charred doors and windows rattled gently, and the sound of the wind through the buildings resembled a sobbing cry.

It was a place where one could still see the former grandeur, even in its ruin.

A-Ru followed Ye Mingke beneath the grand archway, and suddenly, large, crystalline tears welled up in her calm, vacant eyes.

She wept without a sound.

Her father had once told her that their whole family would be reunited beneath the grandest, most beautiful archway in Yangjing, but now that she had arrived, she was the only one here.

Ye Mingke’s footsteps grew even heavier. He did not lead her into the ruins that buried so many lies. Instead, he walked a little further and stopped at a small tavern with black eaves near a street.

The tavern was very old, with withered yellow weeds covered in snow growing on the black eaves, and the cloth curtain at the entrance that partially shielded the street’s wind and snow was stained with age-old marks.

Ye Mingke took A-Ru’s hand and lifted the curtain to enter. Sword Nine, dressed in white but without his sword, was already sitting at a wooden table in the small tavern, with three wine cups and a jar of wine set out.

Behind a curtain in the deepest part of the tavern, an elderly man with a head of white hair could be seen busily pouring wine.

Sword Nine looked up, took a sip of wine, and Ye Mingke pulled A-Ru to sit directly at the table with him. Of the four seats, only one remained empty, and the third wine cup sat before it.

"You didn't convince your friend last night?" Sword Nine asked softly without looking up. Although it was a question, his tone was certain.

"The only person I found is here."

"If you cannot stop them, then after settling this matter today, take A-Ru and leave. After today, Yangjing will no longer be a place for you to stay."

"I will look after A-Ru first." Ye Mingke also picked up the cup before him.

A-Ru’s face was still stained with tears; she tilted her head, looking at Ye Mingke with misty eyes.

Ye Mingke reached out and gripped A-Ru’s cold right hand. His eyes were gentle yet firm and powerful as he looked at her, as if trying to transmit his own strength to the little girl before him. But when he spoke, he could not help but let a trace of hoarseness creep into his voice.

"A-Ru, today… we want to tell you a story."

The white-haired old man, who had been busy behind the curtain, pushed it aside and stepped out with trembling steps.

His weathered, deep eyes met those of A-Ru as she looked up at Ye Mingke, and his gaze landed on her exquisite little face. The steps he had been taking came to a halt, and in a daze, the flowing years seemed to pass instantly through those aged eyes.

"How she resembles her."

In the old man’s weathered, hoarse voice, there was a sigh filled with sorrow and reminiscence.