He was just trapped in a nightmare and finally managed to wake up.

All the deeply buried troubles in Bai Ke's heart were stirred up one by one.

He dreamed of a young and well-behaved Wu Nan, pale and delicate, sitting quietly on the threshold of Yunfu Palace with a book in his arms. The small figure would silently read things he half-understood, raising his head to greet him with a soft "Master" whenever he returned to Yunfu Palace.

Wu Nan had been his most obedient and sensible disciple, as gentle and modest as the bamboo groves surrounding Yunfu Palace, always exuding a natural humility.

Beside Wu Nan, there was always a little girl—his youngest disciple. From the time she was a child, she was prone to tears. Even having a small bite of food snatched from her would make her sob as though it were the greatest tragedy in the world. But before long, she'd be happily trailing behind her senior brother again.

She was his most pampered and delicate disciple, someone who had never suffered much hardship, as vibrant and lovely as the peach blossoms in full bloom every April.

Yet, in the dream, he helplessly watched those two young figures cheerfully call him "Master" before their images stretched and morphed in the blink of an eye. In the intertwining flashes of golden light and crimson blood, Wu Nan transformed into a withered corpse, and the little girl turned into a bloodthirsty madwoman with crimson eyes radiating murderous rage.

The striking, heart-wrenching contrast unfolded so vividly before him that Bai Ke couldn't escape from the nightmare.

The scene replayed over and over again. Each repetition grew more grotesque and terrifying. By the end, Wu Nan's aged face and the little girl’s frenzied, crimson eyes became like twisted demons, circling Bai Ke and enclosing him. No matter which direction he turned, he couldn't avoid them.

And then, amidst the distorted imagery, came an older voice—a voice calling him “Silent Blockhead.” It drifted in and out, sometimes distant, sometimes close, and always unnervingly indistinct.

Soon after, a new scene emerged: Yu Xian vomiting blood, his internal energy scattered. Then came the sight of an aged Shen Han and an insane Wu Nan. All three called out to Bai Ke, their voices overlapping, rising and falling. Their figures flickered between light and shadow, ghostly and surreal.

Bai Ke felt as if his head would split open. He couldn’t banish these scenes from his dream and was so tormented that even the veins in his neck bulged.

He shook his head as if trying to shake off the haunting visions surrounding him. But his struggles only seemed to distort the scenes further, making the voices more ghastly. Interspersed among the chaos were Wu Nan's soft, childlike words, Shen Han's sobs, and Yu Xian's unrestrained laughter.

In the depths of this nightmare, Bai Ke felt his meridians swell with unbearable pain, as though countless erratic currents were bumping around like headless flies. Even his throat tasted metallic, and the slightest effort to speak would have brought up a mouthful of blood.

But the nightmare had no intention of sparing him.

Before the earlier scenes had even faded, another figure emerged.

It was Junxiao, his long hair disheveled, his face pale and bloodless. He was draped in a loose black robe, appearing as though he were suffering from a grave illness. Heavy shadows darkened his eyes, and a faint black aura lingered on his forehead.

Yet, Junxiao's expression as he looked at Bai Ke was one of sorrowful tenderness, deep and unfathomable.

This version of Junxiao was someone Bai Ke had indeed seen before, vividly and unmistakably—the fragment of Junxiao’s soul trapped in the Ice Soul.

When he first encountered that figure, he hadn't yet understood the story behind it or why such a reflection of Junxiao existed there. But now, with his memories fully restored, seeing that version of Junxiao in his nightmare, along with that familiar gaze, Bai Ke felt as though an invisible hand had clutched his heart and refused to let go.

The sudden surge of pain in his chest made him double over, but his eyes remained fixed ahead, their focus dazed and distant.

The residual evil energy, not yet fully expelled from his body, was amplifying his emotions. This was the insidious nature of such energy—it blurred the lines between reality and illusion, magnified emotions, and disoriented the mind, leading countless victims to lose themselves in madness.

All the deeply buried emotional wounds Bai Ke carried in his heart were surfacing, leaving him vulnerable to the nightmare’s pull.

At first, he could repeatedly remind himself that it was all an illusion, just a dream. But as the nightmare dragged on, his grasp on reality and illusion began to blur. Trapped in the increasingly distorted scenes, his gaze grew emptier, more lost.

As the evil energy within him gained the upper hand, the nightmarish visions shifted again.

Everything unfolded toward the worst possible outcome. Every event culminated in utter tragedy, and everyone Bai Ke cared for met the most catastrophic ends.

Shen Han’s shriveled corpse disintegrated into dust, vanishing completely, leaving no trace of her behind—not even a memory.

Wu Nan, consumed by uncontrollable madness, finally perished in a violent explosion, his body obliterated.

Yu Xian, with his internal energy utterly dissipated, was stripped of all five senses. His blood had drained entirely, leaving him lifeless.

Of the three people he cherished most, one had disappeared without a trace, while the other two lay as lifeless corpses, their eyes staring unblinkingly at the heavens, unable to rest in peace.

A massive wave of grief surged over Bai Ke, drowning him in its depths. Yet this was not the end.

The only remaining figure was Junxiao. His long hair fell loosely over his shoulders, his bare feet stepping forward one deliberate step at a time. Each step left a bloodied footprint behind. His black robe dragged along the ground, trailing streaks of blood. He seemed utterly unaware of the macabre scene, his deep, unreadable gaze fixed solely on Bai Ke.

When Junxiao finally stood before him, his pale, cracked lips moved slightly, but no sound came out.

He stood there for a long time—so long that the blood on his black robe began to bead into droplets. Bai Ke could hear the faint sound of them dripping to the ground. Then, Junxiao raised a blood-stained hand and gently tilted Bai Ke’s chin upward before leaning down toward him.

As their lips met, Bai Ke heard Junxiao’s low, hoarse voice whisper softly:
"Over five thousand years... I’ve missed you. Day and night, without pause, not for a single moment…”

But before Bai Ke could take a proper look at him, just as the words left Junxiao’s lips, he dissipated like an insubstantial wisp of a soul. A gust of wind swept him away entirely.

Bai Ke went forward instinctively, trying to grab hold of him, but his hand grasped only something cold and wet. When he pulled it back and opened his palm, he saw that it was covered in blood.

Something in his mind snapped with an audible clarity. In the next moment, an overwhelming tide of sorrow and fury erupted from within him, surging uncontrollably. Streams of energy burst from his body, forcefully shattering the twisted scenes surrounding him.

Just as he was about to summon his sword and let the blade's energy rampage, a faint, cool fragrance drifted in from nowhere, drifting to him.

The scent was crisp and cold, like the wind that blew through the bamboo forest outside Yunfu Palace, carrying a hint of chill. It pulled him abruptly from the nightmare.

Bai Ke opened his eyes suddenly, and the familiar layout of his room in Yunfu Palace came into focus.

The room was softly illuminated by a dim light. A figure in a black robe stood at the table, gently adjusting the incense burner. The faint fragrance that had awakened him was quietly emanating from the burner.

Bai Ke stared at the figure in a daze, his lips moving slightly as he called out in a low voice, “Junxiao?”

Only then did Huo Junxiao straighten up at the sound. His face betrayed a hint of exhaustion, as if he too had only just escaped from a nightmare. Seeing Bai Ke awake, he instinctively took two quick steps forward, but stopped abruptly at the edge of the bed, keeping a cautious distance. Remembering something, he explained softly, “I was caught in a nightmare earlier. It took me some effort to wake up, so I thought I’d come check on you… to see if you were alright, Master.”

His voice was low and subdued, as though he feared that speaking any louder might shatter Bai Ke, like an ephemeral shadow.

Something about his tone, coupled with the slightly vacant look in his eyes under the faint lamplight, inexplicably brought back memories of the nightmare. The emotions Bai Ke had tried so hard to suppress—those he had buried deep in his heart, hoping they would never resurface—suddenly surged up, uncontrollable and overwhelming.

Bai Ke’s gaze remained fixed on him for a long while, unblinking, until the living, breathing Huo Junxiao standing before him completely replaced the spectral figure from his dream. Only then did he part his lips and speak softly: “Come here.”

Junxiao froze, momentarily stunned. After a pause, he seemed to understand, taking another step forward until he stood directly in front of Bai Ke, his knees brushing against the edge of the bed.

Sitting on the bed, Bai Ke tilted his head back to look up at him. Then, he raised a hand and gestured slightly.

Junxiao obediently leaned down, lowering his head closer to Bai Ke.

The dim, flickering light of the lamp between them cast a warm, golden glow, swaying softly as Junxiao gazed at Bai Ke’s face. After a brief hesitation, he leaned in closer, lowering his head further.

Bai Ke did not pull away.

Junxiao’s breathing suddenly quickened, as though he had realized something. Without further hesitation, he leaned down and pressed his lips to Bai Ke’s.

 

Translator : DarNan