Cen Qianshan walked on the snow-covered streets. Most of the stone buildings on both sides of the road had collapsed and been abandoned for many years.
Occasionally, one or two ragged figures popped their heads out from the collapsed stone houses, and when they saw someone passing by, they quickly retreated back into the dark caves.
If not for poverty or to avoid enemies, who would be willing to live in such a desolate ruin instead of moving into the majestic and solid new city not far away
This used to be a very busy street, carrying too many memories for Cen Qianshan.
Cen Qianshan walked slowly in the snow, and the sounds of the past seemed to echo in the streets again.
An old man selling frozen pears and sugar snowballs pushed a cart along the street. A demon cultivator riding a flying vehicle passed overhead with a whoosh. Children played in the snow. Ordinary people put their hands in their sleeves, hunched their heads, and hurried along in the snow.
In a corner, a thin boy was stopped by several strong and naughty kids and pushed into the alley. After a while, the little boy poked his head out of the dirty and dark alley. He looked around to see if there was anyone around, and then he carefully cleaned his clothes and face, showing a harmless and innocent smile, and happily ran towards home. A painful wail came from the alley behind him.
Almost all of Cen Qianshan's happiest time in his life was spent here.
"Master, Master, wait for me." The small figure ran excitedly all the way. Someone in front turned around and held his hand with the most moving smile in the world.
"Master, what is this? Is it for me to eat?"
"Is this for me? I, I don't actually need new clothes."
"Master, what is that place?"
"Master, Master..."
That year, someone pulled the filthy boy out of purgatory. They didn't mind his dirtiness or his viciousness. They wrapped the weak and dying boy in a blanket, held him in their arms as if he were a life worth cherishing, and walked slowly along the snowy road.
That was the first time in his life that he felt warmth, and the first time he knew that he was worthy of being cherished.
Cen Qianshan walked to the end of the road, to the only intact house in the block, pushed open the door, and walked into the silent courtyard.
"Master, we have obtained another Horcrux. Do you want to try it again?" the little puppet on his shoulder asked.
The master did not answer, but just stopped.
Not saying anything means it's okay.
The little puppet Qianji jumped down from his master's shoulder, spun around on the ground in the yard, and helped raise a mithril magic circle hidden under the bluestone slab.
The array was covered with obscure spells and strange images, all of which were drawn with extremely expensive mithril. The thin silver threads were three-dimensional like reliefs, overlapping and interlacing to form a complex array. The heavy silver array diagram carried a powerful force that could shake the laws of heaven and earth.
This formation is the long-lost Netherworld Soul Gathering Formation, which Cen Qianshan has spent many years searching and figuring out, and has condensed after years of hard work.
The people of the Yan family may not know that although only half of the Horcrux was given to him, with the blessing of this magic circle, he can try out its effectiveness in advance.
Cen Qianshan took out the purple-gold dragon-patterned chime, sat at the edge of the magic circle, carefully wiped the Horcrux left by the ancient god with a soft cloth, looked at it carefully, and slowly placed it in the center of the magic circle.
Then, he removed the bandage on his arm and used the tip of a sharp knife to cut through the skin, leaving a cross-shaped wound on his arm. Bright red blood flowed down his arm and into the silver-white groove of the mithril.
The dazzling red color gradually spread in the formation along the silver runes.
The unique coldness of Mithril was stimulated by the vitality of blood, casting a layer of dark blue light over the entire courtyard. The magic array was activated, and the sky and the earth were dark. The silver lines in the center of the array seemed to be endowed with life, slowly swimming and swelling, and finally a demon god outlined by silver lines stood up from there.
The demon god held a silver pestle in his hand, raised it very slowly, and gently struck the purple gold bell.
Ding-
The sound seemed to be a call from the depths of the netherworld, or a mother's gentle call in childhood, or a nostalgic folk song in the hometown, which made the listener intoxicated and wished to follow the sound back home.
Recall Master Mu Xue's soul that was scattered by thunder, and help her rebuild her body.
Cen Qianshan had tried this countless times over the past hundred years. The countless cross-shaped scars on his arms were like a thick, old account book, recording his countless absurd behaviors.
Every time I start with great expectations and end with great disappointment.
The sound of the chimes spread far and wide.
The scarlet blood was continuously swallowed by the magic circle.
Until the person who cast the spell turned pale and could no longer continue, the center of the powerful spiritual formation still showed no sign of being different from before.
Cen Qianshan withdrew the formation, sat silently in the courtyard, and slowly bandaged his injured arm.
The little puppet turned in front of him and tilted its head to look at his face.
No one knew what this artificial puppet had understood from that expressionless face, but it began to speak with grunting sounds.
"Master, are you particularly unhappy today?"
It can't quite understand its owner, who always does such useless things day after day and inexplicably falls into a low mood.
"You, do you still remember your first owner?" the owner suddenly spoke to it.
"Master Mu Xue? I don't remember. I heard that when she was going through the tribulation, she and I were both shattered by the Nine Heavens Divine Thunder." Qianji turned around and showed his old body that had been reassembled. "It was you, Master, who picked up my broken body and remade me. I no longer have any memory of what I used to have."
It thought for a moment, and then said, "But I have Master Mu Xue's image stored in my Mingdeng Mirage, so I know what she looks like. Master, do you want to see it?"
The master said nothing.
Not speaking means it's okay.
Qianji's iron belly opened, and a miniature mirage platform with a beacon of light was handed out. The light emitted by the old triangular crystal created a one-to-one three-dimensional phantom that overlapped with the real courtyard.
The old courtyard seemed to have instantly returned to a hundred years ago and regained its vitality.
A faint light flashed beside Cen Qianshan, and a figure appeared.
The person was wearing a crimson dress, with her black hair tied up sideways. She was sitting on a small chair, with her head down, concentrating on grinding some kind of ore in a medicine mill.
The place where she appeared happened to be right next to Cen Qianshan, so close that he could see the slight smile on her lips as long as he looked up.
But Cen Qianshan never looked up.
His bleeding arm rested on his knees, with long bandages scattered all over the floor. He stared at the bloody bandages without moving, as if a bright flower had bloomed there.
As long as you don't look carefully, the phantom seems to be real.
A momentary and fleeting false reality.
The illusory courtyard door creaked open, and a tall young man ran in quickly and closed the door with his backhand.
Cen Qianshan looked up at him. The young man had a face exactly like his.
The overly bright smile on that face hurt his eyes.
The young man smiled slyly and shouted in his immature voice, "Master, I'm back."
"You're back," the red-dressed woman said as she ground the potion without even looking up, "Did you fight with others again?"
"How could that be? Everyone is very nice to me now." The young man squatted down in front of her and took the medicine grinder. "Master, just let me do these jobs when I come back."
"Are those monkeys nice to you, or were they subdued by you?" The woman in red stretched out her hand and gently pressed on the back of his shoulder.
The young man took a deep breath, his beautiful eyelashes drooped, and he looked pitiful.
"Are you hurt? Is it serious? Let me see." The woman carefully lifted his collar a little and checked his neck.
Cen Qianshan looked at his own face which was secretly delighted.
It turned out that I was so stupid at that time. I thought I was smart and concealed it well, but in fact, my feelings for Master were clearly written on my face.
Whether the master had ever understood his feelings at all back then was no longer known.
There was a flash of light before my eyes.
The red-robed master, my younger self, and the brand new courtyard all disappeared in the light.
Only the little puppet was busy putting away its bright light mirage.
The yard is still the quiet and old courtyard, and his lonely figure is still the only one in the empty yard.
Cen Qianshan slowly stood up, walked into the unlit room, and lay down on the small mat.
The mattress was too small and no longer suitable for him with his adult height and long legs, but he still curled up in this corner all year round.
In this corner, facing the operating table that Mu Xue used to use.
A little snow light reflected in from the window and shone on the half-made magic weapon on the table.
Sometimes Cen Qianshan would feel that perhaps when he woke up and opened his eyes, he would be able to see the familiar figure of his master sitting at the table, busy with his work attentively, making some reassuring tinkling sounds.
In the first few years after his master's death, his pain was too great to describe. He curled up alone in this horribly empty house, keeping his eyes open all night long. Loneliness was like the sharpest knife, filing open his skin, torturing himself repeatedly.
In the past, in order to make his master pity him and love him more, he would cry anytime and anywhere.
At that time, my eyes seemed dry. I wanted to cry, but not a single tear could fall.
Cen Qianshan thought, people are really strange creatures. No matter how deep the wound is or how much pain it causes, as long as they are still alive, they can always heal slowly. Even if they are left with hideous and twisted scars, they still live day by day.
Today, when I look at Master’s voice, appearance and smile, my heart no longer feels any pain or bitterness. Instead, it feels only a blank greyness and a dull whiteness.