Ch.1 This Venerable One Dies

Book I: Different Paths

(Hello everyone, I have noticed that once my chapters are uploaded there is many gaps between the sentences. I

would like to say I am very sorry about this. it has happened to my other novels and I do not know why. I tried to fix it but it just doesn't work. I hope this does not cause any problems to you guys, I really hope you will still be able to

read it. I'm extremely sorry once again. I still hope you enjoy the plot of the story :)

(Here we start. Enjoy!!!!!)

>>suicide

That bit of time before Mo Ran had yet to become the emperor, there

was always someone calling him a dog.

The manager called him a ‘son of a bitch’, the customers called him

a ‘bitch pup’, his little cousin called him a ‘shitty dog’, and his mother

was the best, saying he was raised by a bitch.

Of course, there were other dog related metaphors that weren’t too

bad. For example, his one-night stands would always grumble with

some petulance that the strength of his back was like that of a male

dog; honey dripped from his lips luring away the soul, but the

weapon down below was robbing the sweetness of her life. But,

they’d turn around and boast to others afterwards, so much so that

the entire district knew that the man Mo Weiyu was both handsome

in looks and aggressive in tool; those who tried were satisfied with

their meal, and those who hadn’t were dearly tempted.

It had to be said that those names were all very spot on. Mo Ran

was indeed very much like a tail-wagging dumb dog.

It wasn’t until he became the emperor of the cultivation world that

these kinds of monikers disappeared in a flash.

One day, a small sect from a faraway land gifted him a puppy.

The puppy had a coat of whitish grey, three slashes of flames upon

its forehead, kind of like a wolf. But, it was only as big as a melon,

and looked kind of stupid, chubby and round. Nonetheless, it still

thought of itself rather mightily, running all over the great hall with

abandon. Several times it tried to climb the very, very high steps to

see clearly that person who sat upon the throne so composedly, but

because its legs were too short, it finally abandoned the endeavour.

Mo Ran stared at that ball of fur who possessed no wits but plenty of

energy and suddenly chuckled, laughing as he called it ‘Shitty Dog’.

The puppy soon grew up and became a big dog; the big dog became

an old dog, and the old dog then became a dead dog.

Mo Ran closed his eyes, then blinked them open. His life was filled

with the ebb and flow of prestige and shame, sometimes up,

sometimes down. Before he knew it, thirty two years had gone past.

He’d played with everything and had gotten tired of it. Everything

was tasteless and lonely, and in recent years, there were less and

less people he knew by his side; even that three flames dog had

passed to the heavens. It was time, he thought. Time to end

everything.

He picked off a glistening, full grape, and languidly peeled its purple

skin.

His movement was easy and practiced, like King Yu in his camp

peeling off Princess Hu’s robes, but there was a laziness to it like he

was tired of it all. The lustrous fruit quivered lightly in his fingertips;

its juice gushed and flowed, delicately purple, like a wild goose

gliding down red cliffs, like haitang blossoms entering slumber.

But more so like that of filthy blood.

He stared at his own fingers as he swallowed that overwhelming

sweetness in his mouth, then lazily opened his eyes.

It’s about time, he thought.

About time he went to hell.

Mo Ran, courtesy name Weiyu.

The first emperor of the cultivation world.

It really hadn’t been easy to reach this position. The requirement

wasn’t simply that of outstanding spiritual powers; he’d also needed

a thick skin as hard and solid as that of a meteorite.

Before him, the ten greatest sects in the cultivation world had divided

territories, fought and hoarded against each other over their

domains. With the sects clashing against one another, there was no

one who could rule the world and call all the shots. And besides,

every sect leader were outstandingly learned, so even if they wanted

to grant themselves a title for fun, they would be wary of what the

historians would pen, afraid they would receive disgrace in the books

of history.

But Mo Ran was different.

He was a scoundrel.

What others didn’t dare do, he’d done it all. Drinking the spiciest fine

wine of the mortal realm, marrying the most beautiful woman in the

world. First, he became the Alliance Leader of the cultivation world

“Taxian-Jun”, then he granted himself the title of emperor.

All knelt and yielded before him.

Those who refused to kneel, he slaughtered, one and all. In the

years he asserted his dominance, blood flowed like a flood and

mournful wails were everywhere. Countless vigilantes sacrificed

themselves, even the Rufeng Sect of the Ten Great Sects was

completely annihilated.

And later, even the honored master who’d taught Mo Ran wasn’t

able to escape his demonic claws. In a final battle with Mo Ran he

was defeated, and taken prisoner in the palace by his once beloved

disciple, his whereabouts now unknown.

The once great land of clear rivers and calm seas was suddenly

smothered with smog and haze.

The Dog Emperor Mo Ran didn’t read a lot of books and was

someone who was fearless of all, so while he was in power, the

world was never short of ridiculous affairs. Such as the titles for

those reigning years.

The first set of three years, the title was “Bastard”.1

It was something

he’d thought of while feeding fish by the pond.

The second set of three years, the title was “Croak”, the reason

being he’d heard frogs croak in the garden in the summer, and

determined it as inspiration granted by the heavens and shouldn’t be

taken for granted.

All the scholars of the country believed there could never be any

reigning titles more tragic than “Bastard” and “Croak”, but, alas,

they understood nothing of Mo Ran.

The third set of three years, grassroots unrest began to shake up

various local regions, whether it be buddhists, taoists, or spiritual

cultivators, all those righteous vigilantes in the world started to rise

up in rebellion.

Thus, this time, Mo Ran contemplated deeply for a long time, and

after tossing away many drafts, a title that shook the heavens and

made ghosts and gods weep was born— “Cease Battle”.2

.

It was meant to have a well-meaning connotation. The first emperor

used up all of his brainpower to come up with those two words,

taking from the fortuitous idiom “Cease Troops Rest Battles”. Only,

when it was spoken out loud in the common world, it was

exceedingly awkward.

Especially to those who couldn’t read, it was even more awkward

hearing the title.

The first year was called the First Cease Battle3

year, but why did it

sound like the year of Cock Balls.

The second year was called the second year of Cock.

The third year of Cock.

Some people would curse at it behind locked doors, “What complete

nonsense! Why not give the title “Ji Ba Chen” to complete the circle!

So next time you see a man, no need to ask how old they are, just

ask how old his cock is! Hundred year old masters can be called

Centennial Cock!”

Finally, three years were suffered through, and it was finally time to

replace the reigning year title “Ji Ba”.

People all over the world were waiting anxiously to see what His

Majesty the Emperor would come up with for the fourth title, but this

time, Mo Ran no longer had any care to draw up a name. Since, this

year, riots of the cultivation world finally, completely erupted. After

having endured for almost a decade, vigilantes, heroes, and valiant

men finally gathered together and formed an army of millions,

charging towards the First Emperor Mo Weiyu.

The cultivation world really didn’t need an emperor.

Especially not a tyrant like this.

After many months of battles bathed in blood, the rebel army finally

came to the foot of Sisheng Peak. This place was situated in the

Sichuan province, upon perilous mountain bluffs, surrounded by

streams of clouds and mist throughout the year. Mo Ran’s grand and

majestic palace sat at its summit.

It was too late to turn back, and overthrowing tyranny was only a

strike away. However, this last strike was also the most treacherous.

The ray of hope for victory was before their eyes, but thoughts of

estrangement began to grow internally within the allied army who’d

gathered to fight the same enemy. With the annihilation of the old

empire, a new regime would need to be built. No one wanted to

waste their strength unnecessarily right now, and thus no one

wanted to head the front lines, to charge up the mountains first.

They were all afraid that this cunningly vicious tyrant would suddenly

drop from the skies, bare his shining beast-like white teeth, and rip

apart all those who dared to surround and destroy his palace, shred

them to pieces.

Some said, with a grim expression, “Mo Weiyu’s spiritual powers are

great, and his person cunning. We must be cautious lest we fall for

his traps.”

All the leaders agreed.

Right then, an exceedingly handsome, flashy young man walked

forward. He was wearing a set of silver blue light armour, a belt

embellished with a lion’s head, his hair fastened in a high ponytail

with an exquisite silver hairpin secured at the roots.

That young man’s expression was exceedingly dark. He said, “We’ve

already come to the foot of the mountain, what are you all moseying

about for, dragging your feet in going up? Are you all waiting for Mo

Weiyu to climb down himself? What a bunch of scaredy cats!”

Anger exploded all around because of his words.

“Such abuse, young master Xue! What do you mean by scaredy

cats? A soldier must always be utmostly prudent. If we’re all brash

and reckless like you, who’ll be responsible if accidents happen?”

Another instantly taunted sarcastically, “Hehe, young master Xue is

the darling of the heavens, we are but mere commoners. If the

darling of the heavens can’t wait to fight the emperor of the mortal

realm, then by all means, please go up the mountain first. We’ll set

up a feast down here by the foot of the mountain to await your

gracious return with Mo Weiyu’s head, wouldn’t that be nice?”

That was a rather aggravating comment. One of the old monks in the

alliance immediately stopped the young man who was about to

explode, and put on a folksy expression, coaxing him in a gentle

voice, “Young master Xue, listen to this old monk. This old monk

knows that you and Mo Weiyu share a deep, personal grudge.

However, this palace invasion is a critical matter; you must think of

everyone, don’t let your emotions carry you away.”

The one everyone addressed as ‘Young Master Xue’ was named

Xue Meng. Over a decade ago, he’d been praised by all as a young

genius, the darling of the heavens.

Yet, as all things change with the flow of time, he must now endure

the taunts and ridicule of those people, if only to go up the mountain

to see Mo Ran’s face one more time.

Xue Meng’s face twisted with anger, his lips trembling, but he still

arduously suppressed himself, demanding, “Then just how long do

you all plan on waiting for?”

“We’ve got to at least observe any movements, right?”

“Yea, what if Mo Weiyu has set traps?”

The old monk who’d mediated just now also urged, “Young master

Xue, don’t be impatient. Since we’ve already come to the foot of the

mountain, it’s best if we remain cautious. Either way, Mo Weiyu is

trapped inside the palace and can’t come down. He’s now at the end

of his rope, nothing will come of anything, so why must we be

impatient and act recklessly? There’s so many of us down here, with

so many nobilities and prominent figures among us, if they lost their

lives by accident, who can be responsible?”

Xue Meng exploded with rage, “RESPONSIBLE? THEN LET ME

ASK YOU, WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR MY SHIZUN’S LIFE? MO

RAN HAS IMPRISONED MY SHIZUN FOR TEN YEARS! A WHOLE

TEN YEARS! WITH SHIZUN JUST UP THE MOUNTAIN BEFORE

ME, HOW CAN YOU MAKE ME WAIT?”

Hearing Xue Meng mention his shizun, the mob felt a trickle of

shame.

Some looked ashamed, some eyed left and right, murmuring but did

not speak.

“Ten years ago, Mo Ran titled himself Taxian-Jun. Nevermind

slaughtering all seventy-two city fortresses of the Rufeng Sect, he

also planned to annihilate the rest of the Ten Great Sects. Later,

when Mo Ran made himself emperor, he tried to eradicate all

houses. In both disasters, who was the one to stop him in the end? If

it wasn’t my shizun who fought with his life on the line, would you all

still be alive right now? Can you all still stand here and talk to me like

it’s nothing?”

Finally, someone cleared his throat and said gently, “Young master

Xue, don’t be angry. In regards to Chu-zongshi, we... all feel guilty,

and grateful. Just as you say, he’s been imprisoned for ten years, so

if anything’s happened, it would’ve already... So, you’ve already

waited for ten years, waiting for another moment won’t hurt, don’t

you think?”

“WHAT I THINK? I THINK IT’S BULLSHIT!”

That man widened his eyes, “Why would you yell like that?”

“WHY WOULDN’T I YELL AT YOU? SHIZUN PUT HIS LIFE ON

THE LINE AND IT WAS TO SAVE YOUR KIND OF... Kind of...”

He couldn’t continue anymore, a sob constricting his throat, “I’m

disheartened on his behalf.”

Towards the end, Xue Meng whipped his head around, his shoulders

shaking lightly, holding back his tears.

“It’s not like we said we weren’t going to rescue Chu-zongshi...”

“Yea, we all remember the good Chu-zongshi has done for us, we

never forgot. Young master Xue, you’re accusing us all of being

unjust ingrates, we won’t stand for it!”

“But speaking of which, isn’t Mo Ran also Chu-zongshi’s disciple?”

Someone whispered. “I gotta say, as a master, he should be

responsible for his criminal disciple. As they say, an undisciplined

son is the father’s fault; an improperly educated son is due to the

negligence of the teacher. The whole thing couldn’t be helped, so

what’s there to complain about?”

Now that was harsh, and someone instantly shouted, “WHAT

NONSENSE ARE YOU SPOUTING? MIND YOUR TONGUE!”

Then he turned to console Xue Meng with a pleasant face, “Young

master Xue, don’t be impatient...”

Xue Meng cut him off, his eyes bulging, “HOW CAN I NOT BE

IMPATIENT? THIS DOESN’T CONCERN ANY OF YOU SO IT

DOESN’T HURT, BUT THAT’S MY SHIZUN! MINE!!! I HAVEN’T

SEEN HIM FOR SO MANY YEARS! I DON’T KNOW WHETHER IF

HE’S ALIVE OR DEAD, I DON’T KNOW HOW HE IS! WHAT DO

YOU ALL THINK I’M STANDING HERE FOR?”

His breathing was harsh, the rims of his eyes red. “Did you all think

that by just waiting here, Mo Weiyu will come down the mountain

himself and kneel in front of you all to beg for mercy?”

“Young master Xue...”

“Besides shizun, I’ve no family left in this world.” Xue Meng broke

free from the old monk’s hold on his sleeves and croaked, “You won’t

go, I’ll go myself.”

Throwing that out there, he went up the mountain alone; one man,

one sword.

Through the rustling cries of bleak and wet cold winds mixed with

millions of leaves, the thick fog crept like countless angry ghosts and

aggrieved spirits within the trees, muttering in hushed voices.

Xue Meng hiked to the peak all by his lonesome. The majestic

palace Mo Ran was in had calm candlelight illuminating the night. He

suddenly saw that before the Heaven-Piercing Tower were three

graves. When he approached for a closer look, at the head of the

first grave were long weeds growing, and the tombstone was

engraved with crooked and dogged words: “Grave of the Steamed4

Consort Chu”.

In contrast to this “Steamed Consort”, the second grave was newly

dug, the earth only just sealed, and upon the tombstone engraved:

“Grave of the Deep Fried Empress Song”.

“...”

If this was over ten years ago, Xue Meng would’ve laughed out loud

in spite of himself upon seeing such a ridiculous sight.

At the time, he and Mo Ran were disciples under the same shizun,

and Mo Ran was the class clown. Even if Xue Meng had long since

disliked him, he would still be teased to laugher by him from time to

time.

Who knows what this Steamed Consort Deep Fried Empress was all

about. Perhaps the style in which the Scholar Mo had graced his two

wives were the same as “Bastard”, “ Croak” and “Cease Battle”.

However, as to why he would give those monikers to his own

empresses, there was no way of knowing.

Xue Meng turned his gaze to the third grave.

Under the night sky, the earth of that grave mound was still dug

open. There was a coffin resting within, but there was no body in that

coffin, and the tombstone was also yet to be marked.

Before the grave was a small pot of Pear Blossom White Wine, a

bowl of now cold spicy wontons, a few plates of spicy side dishes --

they were all Mo Ran’s favourites.

Xue Meng stared at the grave stunned, and suddenly his mind

snapped to -- could it be that Mo Ran had no intention of fighting,

and had long since dug his own grave, ready to die?

Cold sweat rolled.

He would not believe it. Mo Ran had always been someone who

never knew fatigue even at the brink of death. He knew not of

surrender, and based on the way he acted, he would’ve for sure

fought with the rebel army to the bitter end, so why would...

These past ten years, Mo Ran had stood at the summit of power.

What exactly did he see? And what exactly had happened?

No one knew.

Xue Meng turned around and reentered the darkness, stalking in

large strides towards the brightly lit Wushan Palace.

Inside Wushan Palace, Mo Ran’s eyes were screwed shut, his face

deathly pale.

Xue Meng had guessed right. Mo Ran was determined to die. That

grave mound was dug by himself. Two hours ago, he had used the

communication spell to dismiss his servants, while he swallowed

deadly poison. His cultivation was great, and so the effects of that

poison were particularly slow in dissolving and circulating within his

body. Thus, the agony of having his inner organs chewed away was

also acutely vivid.

Creak -- the doors to the hall opened.

Mo Ran didn’t look up and only gasped hoarsely, “Xue Meng. It’s

you, right? Have you come?”

Upon the golden pavement within the hall, Xue Meng stood tall and

proud, his ponytail falling straight, his light armour shimmering.

It was a reunion of companions from the same sect once upon a

time. Mo Ran sat leaning, propping up his chin, his expression

empty, thick curtains of fine lashes lowered before his eyes.

Everyone knew he was a monster and a savage devil, but in truth,

he was good looking. The curve of his nose gentle and soft, his lips

thin and dewy, his appearance naturally radiating notes of kindness

and sweetness. Just by looking at his face, anyone would think he

was a lovable, good person.

When Xue Meng saw his face, he knew Mo Ran had taken poison

just as he had suspected. It was hard to dissect what he was feeling,

and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. In the

end, he clenched his fists and only demanded, “Where’s shizun?”

“...What?”

Xue Meng demanded again sharply, “I SAID, WHERE’S SHIZUN???

YOURS, MINE, OUR SHIZUN!!”

“Oh.” Mo Ran humphed softly, and finally, slowly, blinked open his

eyes, his pupils black with hints of purple, dropping them onto Xue

Meng’s person through layers upon layers of time past.

“Now that I think of it, ever since the farewell at Taxue Palace on

Mount Kunlun, it’s been two years since you and Shizun have seen

each other.”

Mo Ran smiled faintly as he spoke.

“Xue Meng, do you miss him?”

“STOP YOUR NONSENSE! GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!”

Mo Ran glanced at him calmly, enduring the twisting pain in his

stomach, and his lips contorted into a sneer as he laid heavily back

against the emperor’s throne.

Waves of blackness invaded his sight, he could almost feel his

innards wrenching, melting, dissolving into stinking, bloody swill.

Mo Ran replied lazily, “Give him back to you? Foolish. Why don’t you

use your brain to think a little? Shizun and I share such deep hatred

for each other, why would I allow him to live in this world?”

“YOU--!” Blood completely drained from Xue Meng’s face, his eyes

bulging as he backed up, “You can’t have... You wouldn’t...”

“I wouldn’t what?” Mo Ran snickered. “Why don’t you tell me, why

wouldn’t I?”

Xue Meng’s voice trembled. “But he’s your... He’s your shizun after

all... How could you bear to kill him??”

He looked up to Mo Ran who was sitting high above in the seat of

the emperor. There was Fuxi in Heaven, Yanluo in Hell, and in the

mortal realm, there was Mo Weiyu.

But to Xue Meng, even if Mo Ran had become the eminent emperor

of the mortal realm, he still shouldn’t have become like this.

Xue Meng’s entire body was shaking, his tears rolling from outrage,

“Mo Weiyu, are you still human? He once...”

Mo Ran raised his eyes quietly, “He once what?”

Xue Meng’s voice trembled, “You should very well know how he

once treated you...”

Mo Ran suddenly laughed, “Are you trying to remind me that he

once beat me so hard my body was covered in blood, that he made

me kneel before all to admit my crimes? Or did you want to remind

me that he once, for you, for irrelevant people, three times he stood

in my way, ruined my great endeavours?”

Xue Meng shook his head in pain, “...”

No, Mo Ran.

Think back properly. Let go of your vicious hatred. Look back.

He once trained you in cultivation and martial arts, and made sure to

protect you.

He once taught you how to read and write, taught you poetry and

painting.

He once learned how to cook just for you, even though he was so

clumsy and got cuts all over his hands.

He once... He once waited every day for you to come home, all

alone by himself, from nightfall...til the break of dawn...

So many words stuck in his throat, but in the end, Xue Meng could

only sob, “His... his temper is bad, and his words are harsh, but

even I know he treated you really well, so why... how could you...”

Xue Meng raised his head, but having held back so many tears, his

throat was even more constricted, and he couldn’t say anymore.

It was a long pause before Mo Ran’s silent sigh floated from the

throne. “Yea.”

“But Xue Meng. Did you know?” Mo Ran’s voice was clearly

exhausted. “He had also once ended the life of the only person I’ve

ever loved. The only one.”

It was silent like the dead for a long time.

The pain in his stomach was like a blazing fire, his blood and flesh

torn and ripped into broken shreds.

“Still, we were master and disciple once. His corpse is resting in the

Red Lotus Pavilion in the Southern Peak. He’s lying among the lotus

blossoms, very well preserved, like he’s only fallen asleep.” Mo Ran

caught his breath and forced himself to calm down. When he said

this, his expression was blank, but his fingers were digging into the

long rosewood desk, his joints pale to the point of bruising.

“His corpse is maintained by my spiritual powers. If you miss him,

don’t waste your breath here with me. Go now before I die.”

A lump of astringent sweetness swarmed up into his throat; Mo Ran

coughed a couple times, and when he opened his mouth again,

there was nothing but blood between his lips and teeth. Yet his eyes

were still at ease.

He said with a hoarse voice, “Go. Go see him. If you’re too late and I

die, breaking off the spiritual powers, he will turn into dust.”

Then, he closed his eyes dispiritedly, the poison striking his heart,

blazing fires bringing torment.

The agony was so heart wrenching that even Xue Meng’s twisted,

despairing wails became faraway, like there was an ocean spanning

thousands of miles between them, and his voice was coming through

the waters.

Blood continued to pour out from the corners of his lips, and Mo Ran

squeezed his sleeves tight, his muscles spasming.

When he opened his bleary eyes, Xue Meng was long gone. That

bastard’s qinggong

5 wasn’t bad; it wouldn’t take him too long to run

from here to the Southern Peak.

He should be able to see Shizun one last time.

Mo Ran pushed himself up, and wobbled as he rose to his feet.

Using hands spotted with blood, he formed a hand seal, sending

himself to the front of Sisheng Peak’s Heaven-Piercing Tower.

It was deep autumn. The haitang blossoms were beautifully thick

and flowing in the wind.

He didn’t know why in the end he chose this place to end his sinful

life, but he felt since the flowers were blooming so vibrantly, it

wouldn’t be such a bad tomb.

He laid down in that open coffin, and looked up to watch the

blossoms of the night, soundlessly drifting as they wilted.

Drifting into the coffin, drifting onto his cheeks. Dancing and

fluttering, like the past wilting away.

In this life, from the bastard son who possessed nothing, after

innumerable encounters, he became the only eminent Lord Emperor

of the mortal realm.

He had blasphemed, and his hands were covered with blood. All that

he loved, all that he hated, all that he prayed for, all that he resented,

in the end, there was nothing left.

In the end, he had also never penned an epitaph for himself using

that confident and wild writing of his. Whether it be a shameless

“Emperor of the Era” or something ridiculous like “Deep Fried” or

“Steamed”, he didn’t write anything. The grave of the first emperor of

the cultivation world, in the end, left no words behind.

A spectacle that lasted for a decade finally dropped its curtains.

It was many, many hours later when the mob, with torches held high,

invaded the resident palace of the emperor like a fire snake.

However, what awaited them was an empty Wushan Palace, a

Sisheng Peak without a soul, and Xue Meng, who had cried himself

numb, prostrating over a ground spilled with ashes at the Red Lotus

Pavilion.

And, before the Heaven-Piercing Tower, Mo Weiyu, whose corpse

was already cold.

(Another thing I would like to say is that next to certain words there are number, these numbers are supposed to help with some of the words meanings, before adding it to my chapters I realised some meanings can be added and

some cannot. I hope this wont be much of a problem. please do read :)

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