RIIDMDR chapter 135

 

When Tingchuan heard this, he finally felt a little relieved. Then, Zhixing said, “Senior Tingchuan, I know you’re worried about the owner, but you must take care of yourself, too.”

Zhixing wouldn’t have said this to anyone else, but he had spent every day with Tingchuan in the mountains, and because of his feelings for Nanxu, he couldn’t help but remind Tingchuan when he saw how haggard he looked.

Tingchuan nodded. “I’m fine. I just need to stay in the mountains for a few days.”

Nearly a month had passed without Tingchuan resting a single night, from the time he left the South Sea to seek medicine for Jingyuan, to watching over Nanxu after he fell unconscious, and then bringing him back to Zhuyu Mountain. The spiritual power he used along the way, coupled with the constant worry consuming his mind, had contributed to his exhaustion.

The spiritual energy in the demon realm was weak. Even in Zhuyu Mountain, it would take more than a few days to replenish what he had lost. Yet Tingchuan showed no intention of resting.

Seeing that his thoughts were fixed on Nanxu, Zhixing knew no amount of persuasion would help, so he said nothing more.

In the following days, Zhixing came to check Nanxu’s pulse every day. Nanxu seemed to have suppressed his resistance and was slowly regulating the spiritual energy within his body. However, the chaotic energy inside him continued to grow, and no one knew where it came from. Through this process, however, Nan Xu’s body began to subtly change, showing signs of demonic tendencies.

Four days later, Nanxu suddenly developed a high fever at noon. Within minutes, sweat soaked his clothes and bedding, and blood seeped from his mouth, nose, and eyes. Startled, Tingchuan—who had been guarding Nanxu for days—sprang to his feet and shouted Zhixing’s name.

Zhixing rushed in from the courtyard. When he saw Nanxu’s condition on the bed, his heart tightened. He reached out and grasped Nanxu’s wrist in a few quick steps. The burning heat of his skin made Zhixing even more uneasy. Forcing himself to stay calm, he began checking Nanxu’s pulse.

It hadn’t changed much, but the sudden surge of spiritual energy within Nanxu was like a group of wild beasts trapped for ages. Now that their cage had cracked open, the beasts pushed and clawed at the opening until they broke free.

This abrupt disruption left Nanxu’s body unprepared, causing the violent reaction. Before, he could manage on his own, but now, without intervention, the situation was extremely dangerous.

Zhixing quickly searched his mind for a cure. In the past, there had never been an illness in the demon realm caused by too much spiritual energy. However, during the calamity, the entire realm experienced something similar for a brief time. One of his clan’s elders, Ting Shu, had studied this phenomenon in the centuries following the calamity. However, he had been terminally ill and in despair, leaving behind only fragmentary notes. The final medicine he proposed had never been tested.

Zhixing had read Ting Shu’s notes before and tried to refine the medical logic. Though several rare herbs were missing, the mountain’s nursery had suitable replacements. The medicine’s effect would be weaker, but the situation was urgent, so Zhixing began preparing it immediately.

By Nanxu’s bedside, Tingchuan kept wiping the blood and sweat from his face with a towel. The more he looked at Nanxu’s pained expression, the more familiar it seemed. Zhixing had rushed out too quickly for Tingchuan to ask questions, but he already had a good idea.

Soon, Zhixing returned with a bowl of dark brown decoction. Tingchuan helped Nanxu sit up and lean against his chest. Then, he gathered spiritual energy in his palm and gently stroked Nanxu’s back.

For days, this is how he helped him drink water and take restorative medicine. Otherwise, with his current body, which was closer to human, Nanxu could not have lasted this long.

…

In the chaos, the pain that had consumed Nanxu at first eased somewhat. Taking advantage of this, he quickened his pace.

He could sense that he had already left the safe zone where he had started. The path ahead was treacherous and endless. Though a faint light could be seen ahead, it was like blades slicing past him too fast to see. His face and body were covered in painful wounds.

After being attacked countless times, Nanxu’s instincts had gradually sharpened. He learned to evade most of the strikes. Yet, he could feel something inside him slipping away as he formed barriers in front of him that shattered under the next blow.

He had been trapped in this space for what felt like ages, with no sense of time passing, no sunrise or sunset. When he first fell into the darkness, the pain nearly broke him. But once his mind began to work again, he started to wonder about this place. His heart was filled with both fear and a desire to conquer it.

So… had he spent those three thousand years—after leaving the demon realm but before entering the human world—here?

He kept moving, numb, dodging again and again. On this endless road, he began to feel what he was losing. It was what Tingchuan and the others called spiritual power. It was his own power that had protected him even when he didn’t know how to wield it.

Nan Xu had nowhere to rest. Numbly dodging and weaving, he moved forward step by step. On this seemingly endless road, he slowly began to sense what he was losing. It must be the spiritual energy Tingchuan and the others had spoken of—his own spiritual energy that had protected him before he knew how to control it.

Just as his spiritual energy was about to run out, Nan Xu suddenly felt the attacks slow down. No longer needing to expend energy to dodge, he moved forward swiftly, trying to control his remaining energy. Perhaps due to some talent, he soon grasped the basics. Later, he could absorb a small amount of spiritual energy from the light into his body. Although it wasn’t much, it was good news nonetheless. A smile appeared on Nan Xu’s lips. The next second, however, he lost his footing, and a feeling of weightlessness instantly overwhelmed him.

Nanxu jolted awake. The moment he saw light, he instinctively channeled spiritual power, stirring the air and causing the curtains to flutter.

“You’re awake!” Tingchuan’s voice said. Nanxu blinked several times before realizing that he was no longer in darkness.

He tried to sit up, but he only managed to struggle halfway before falling back and hitting his head on the pillow. His eyes searched for the source of the voice.

Tingchuan leaned closer. Seeing Nanxu’s blank gaze, Tingchuan’s smile froze. He waved his hand in front of Nanxu’s face.

“I can see,” Nanxu said, smiling genuinely. Heaven knew how many times he had thought he had gone blind in that endless darkness.

Tingchuan let out a breath of relief and carefully helped Nanxu sit up as though he were handling something fragile. “What do you want to do now?” he asked.

“I want to kiss you,” Nanxu said.

Tingchuan gazed quietly at him. Nanxu met his gaze without hesitation, then compromised with a small grin. “A hug is fine, too.”

After experiencing such unbearable pain, he longed for a hug. If he ever escaped, he thought, he would embrace Tingchuan and tell him about his suffering—how the pain of nearly dying in the human world was nothing compared to this.

But now, looking at Tingchuan’s thin face, he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he found himself wanting a kiss.

Tingchuan pulled him into his arms. Warmth flowed between them. Gentle kisses fell on his forehead, cheeks, and the corners of his lips until finally, their mouths met.

The kiss lasted a long time. When they finally parted, they were both reluctant to let go. Nanxu leaned against Tingchuan’s chest, recounting his experience with the attacks of light and his theories about the space.

Tingchuan listened silently, holding Nanxu tightly as if pouring all his worry and pain into that embrace, wishing he could take every bit of Nanxu’s suffering upon himself.

“Your spiritual sense space is that darkness,” Tingchuan said. “To regain your true form, reclaiming it is the first step.”

Nanxu understood, but he frowned. “It was mine to begin with, yet it attacked me? That’s outrageous!”

He sounded indignant, as if he wanted to drag his spiritual sense out and scold it like an unfilial child.

“It’s been out of your control for too long. The discord is normal,” Tingchuan explained.

Thinking of the wild lights still rampaging in the darkness, Nanxu sighed. “Looks like I’ve got a lot of work ahead.”

“When you master your spiritual power completely, all of that energy will be yours to command,” Tingchuan said, trying to comfort him.

Nanxu truly felt comforted. Too tired to think further, he just wanted to sleep. However, he was afraid that if he closed his eyes, he might not wake up again. He forced his eyes open and talked to Tingchuan in a sleepy daze.

“Is your spiritual sense space that mist I once saw?” Nanxu asked.

Tingchuan nodded. “Yes.”

“Don’t you get lost in it?” Nanxu wondered. Though he had regained some of his power, he still lacked his memories from the past and knew little about the demon realm.

“That mist is something I created. How could I get lost in it? Since I made it, I command it,” Tingchuan said.

“No wonder I lost my way last time. Then the mist parted and showed me a path,” Nanxu realized.

Tingchuan’s words gave Nanxu new insight. He had always thought of his spiritual sense space as something separate from himself, like an object he owned. But, in truth, that space existed because of him. It was as inseparable from him as his own limbs.

Still, deep down, Nanxu felt that he and Tingchuan were different in ways he couldn’t name.

Seeing Nanxu struggling to keep his eyes open and looking utterly exhausted, Tingchuan said, “Sleep. I’ll stay with you.”

Nanxu had been holding his hand since they started talking. The dependence was obvious. Hearing this, he hesitated only a moment. “Will you sleep with me?”

“Yes,” Tingchuan said, lying down beside him.

As before, Nanxu curled into Tingchuan’s arms, clinging close, and soon fell asleep.

Though he had been lying in bed all this time, he hadn’t truly rested, always struggling within that spiritual space. Exhaustion finally caught up to him.

Tingchuan didn’t sleep. Watching Nanxu’s peaceful face, his thoughts grew heavier.

Nanxu had spoken vaguely earlier—perhaps hiding something. When he left Zhuyu Mountain this time, his body and consciousness separated. The spiritual sense space remaining on the mountain pulled his consciousness back, accidentally fusing spirit and body.

If Nanxu hadn’t fought his way back out… they might have been separated once again.

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