CHAPTER 50

Final Farewell

LUO FAN

When I awoke, the world was cloaked in shadows. The faint flicker of firelight danced across the canopy above me, its soft glow unable to chase away the oppressive darkness. I was lying on a thin sheet spread over the cold ground, my body aching from exhaustion. The murmured voices of Ruan Yanjun and Xiong Juan reached my ears, low and indistinct, as they stood by the fire. Their tones carried an unspoken weight, something heavy and grim.

I sat up abruptly, my heart racing. “Where is she?” I demanded, my voice hoarse and urgent.

Both figures turned to me. Ruan Yanjun’s expression was as unreadable as ever, his sharp features half-hidden in the shadows. He sighed, looking away as though the answer was too burdensome to deliver. Xiong Juan hesitantly stepped forward, his hand resting gently on my shoulder.

"I’m sorry," he said softly. “I couldn’t save her.”

The words hit me like a hammer. My breath caught in my throat. “Did you leave her behind?”

Xiong Juan didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turned and gestured to his right. “She’s there.”

My eyes followed his motion, and I froze. Beneath a tree, a still form lay shrouded in a white sheet, the fabric unmoving in the cool night breeze. My chest tightened as I stumbled to my feet, rushing toward the figure. My trembling hands pulled the sheet away, and there she was. Jinjing’s face, serene in death, greeted me. Her skin, once vibrant and warm, was pale and cold. Her body, stiff and lifeless, bore the unmistakable finality of her passing.

Tears spilled freely down my cheeks as I knelt beside her. My hands cradled her face, my fingers brushing against her icy skin. A sob tore from my throat, quiet but filled with despair, as I pulled her into my arms.

This was my fault. My selfishness had led her here, to this cruel end. I had known deep in my soul that staying with her would endanger her life, but I had refused to let her go. I had clung to the illusion of normalcy, to the hope of keeping her by my side. And now, she had paid the ultimate price for my stubbornness.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Ruan Yanjun’s voice came from behind me, cold and sharp. “Without me, you’re just a helpless little kitten.”

My grief turned to anger. I whirled to face him, my voice trembling with fury but I still tried to speak softly. “You were there, weren’t you? You were there when they killed her, but you just watched.”

He tilted his head, his expression indifferent. “As I said, I was there to watch a show.”

"Are you satisfied?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Are you happy now?"

“Happy? No. But satisfied? Yes,” he replied, his tone devoid of emotion. “It played out exactly as I expected. Betrayal always ends this way.”

“So you knew. You knew everything from the start, but you kept it to yourself.”

“You trusted her,” he said coolly. “You chose her over me. Tell me, if I had warned you, would you have believed me? And I did give you a hint, didn’t I?”

I clenched my fists, wanting to yell at him, to curse him, but my grief was too overwhelming. I could only sit there, trembling and broken.

“You told me to leave you alone, A-Fan,” Ruan Yanjun continued, his voice calm yet cutting. "And I did. Why are you complaining now?"

"You should have stopped her from coming for me, at least," I whispered.

He let out a low chuckle. "That was her choice. She wanted to prove she regretted betraying you. Why should I interfere with such a noble act?"

"You knew they would kill her," I said through gritted teeth. "Did you set her up?"

His smile was faint but bitter. "I admit I never liked her for you. I admit I felt slighted when you chose her over me. But I am not some petty fool. I don’t kill my rivals. I defeat them."

"Then why didn’t you save her?"

"It was not my responsibility to protect her. It was yours. Why blame me for your failure?"

I turned back to Jinjing, my hand stroking her hair gently. "Lord Ruan, you are as powerful as the gods. Why didn’t you use that power to save the weak?"

"Ask the gods that question," he retorted. "Where were they when you needed them? Why didn’t they come for you? Why must it always be the devil who rescues you?"

His words cut deep, but I couldn’t bear to argue any longer. "Please, leave me," I murmured.

Ruan Yanjun’s smirk returned, colder than ever. "A-Fan, my leniency ends here. I granted your wish to prove yourself, and you failed. From now on, I’ll be the one in control."

"You still insist on using me to fulfill your ambitions," I said bitterly.

"Your fate is sealed. You have no choice."

I bowed my head, too drained to fight him. "If you can give me a small piece of land to bury her, I will serve you. But I will not wage war against my family. If you want the crown, pursue it yourself. I will neither oppose you nor support you."

For a long moment, he was silent. Then, he nodded. "Fair enough. Leave the burial to me. For you, I will grant her the grandest funeral and a place of honor for her rest."

"Thank you," I whispered, the words hollow in my mouth.

As he turned to leave, he paused. "Congratulations on breaching the second level. I suppose you didn’t even notice."

For a cultivator, advancing a level was a moment of great triumph, a milestone to be celebrated. But as I knelt beside Jinjing’s lifeless form, the achievement felt meaningless. She was gone. I had failed her. What reason was there to continue cultivating if I couldn’t protect the ones I loved?

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

I stayed with Jinjing through the night, the bitter chill of dawn creeping into my bones as her lifeless form rested against me. Her pale face, once full of warmth and quiet determination, was now devoid of life, her features unnaturally still. The soft rustle of leaves and distant cries of night creatures filled the air, but my world was silent, consumed by grief.

As the first light of morning broke across the horizon, Ruan Yanjun approached, his presence as commanding as ever. “You should lay her down properly,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Fix her position before her body stiffens.”

My hands trembled as I obeyed, carefully arranging her as though she were simply sleeping. My movements were slow, deliberate. I didn’t want to let her go, but I knew I had no choice.

When the sun climbed higher into the sky, Ruan Yanjun addressed Xiong Juan, who stood nearby with his hands clasped behind his back. “Return to Sindu,” he commanded. His voice was calm but unyielding, the authority of his words absolute. “Inform them not to worry about their crown prince. He is under my custody now and will be guarded day and night.”

Xiong Juan cupped his hands, bowing deeply to Ruan Yanjun. “Understood,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension that hung in the air. Then, he turned to me and held out a small purse, its weight betraying the gold coins within.

“This belongs to her,” Xiong Juan said. “I picked it up from the ground before I took her away.”

The sight of it made my stomach churn. The purse—a trivial object—had been the cause of her death, the price of betrayal and desperation. My hand instinctively recoiled. “Keep it,” I muttered bitterly, unable to bear its presence.

“She gave her life for this,” Xiong Juan said evenly. “She earned it. If you don’t want it, give it to her family.”

Her family. The memory of Jinjing’s son, small and innocent, flashed through my mind. Whatever her faults, she had been his mother, and he would need this. Even if she had earned it by selling me out, the coins were hers—rightfully his now.

I nodded stiffly, taking the purse from Xiong Juan’s outstretched hand.

“And this,” he added, producing a pair of delicate vials filled with a faintly glowing liquid. “Concentrated light energy. Take it if your dark core runs rampant again.”

I hesitated, staring at the elixirs. The reminder of my earlier rampage and near collapse struck me like a blade to the chest. My dark energy had consumed me, raging uncontrollably, while my light energy had nearly faded away. That I was still alive was a testament to someone’s intervention—likely Xiong Juan’s.

“You balanced my cores,” I said softly, realization dawning.

“It was necessary,” he replied, his tone matter-of-fact.

I bowed my head, swallowing my pride. “Thank you.”

With that, we exchanged brief farewells. Xiong Juan departed, leaving behind a void that was quickly filled by the sound of hooves on dirt. Two carriages approached, their sleek forms painted in muted colors. Huang Wen, his face etched with sorrow, dismounted and approached me.

“I’ve brought the carriages,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, Priest Luo.”

I nodded in acknowledgment, my voice caught in my throat. Together, we carried Jinjing’s lifeless body into one of the carriages. Huang Wen handed me a clean sheet, which I used to cover her form. The fabric felt cold and impersonal against her, and my heart ached anew.

“I want to take her to the burial ground myself,” I told Ruan Yanjun as he stood nearby, observing me with unreadable eyes. “I will dig her grave as my final act of devotion.”

His gaze hardened, his expression a mixture of displeasure and restrained understanding. For a moment, I thought he might refuse, but he simply gestured toward the carriage. “Get in,” he said curtly.

I climbed inside and sat beside Jinjing, the world outside slipping into irrelevance. As the carriage rolled forward, the rhythmic creak of its wheels underscored the silence between us. I stroked her hair with trembling fingers, committing every detail of her face to memory.

The journey stretched on, but I stayed by her side, wishing I could freeze this moment in time, even as I dreaded the inevitable—her final farewell to this world.

*****

RUAN YANJUN

I stood at a distance, arms behind my back, watching Luo Fan dig the grave as he had promised. His body trembled with exhaustion, the sweat on his brow catching the late afternoon light. Huang Wen had tried earlier to help, but Luo Fan had waved him off with a quiet yet firm insistence. He was determined to do this alone, even as his legs threatened to buckle beneath him.

I scowled, a storm of conflicting emotions twisting within me. I couldn’t decide if I felt angry, irritated, or something far more difficult to name. Watching him pour the last remnants of his strength into this task, punishing himself as though it were penance, left a bitter taste in my mouth.

This woman—Jinjing—had betrayed him. She had sold him out to his enemies, and yet here he was, risking his health, perhaps even his life, to dig her grave. His devotion was absurd, maddening even. What kind of fool grieved so deeply for someone who had wronged him so completely?

This wasn’t righteousness—it was madness.

The hollow sound of his shovel striking the dirt echoed in the air, each scrape grating against my already-frayed nerves. My hands curled into fists at my sides, but I forced myself to stay silent.

Finally, as the grave was finished, the funeral guild’s carriage arrived, its wheels creaking as it came to a halt. Two attendants stepped out, carrying a coffin between them. Jinjing was already inside, her body washed and dressed in white ceremonial robes. She looked far more serene in death than she ever had in life.

Another carriage pulled up behind it, this one carrying a monk to perform the burial rites. As the monk descended, I let out a quiet sigh. Of all the places to find myself, standing at the edge of a burial for a woman who had been a prostitute and a traitor was not what I had anticipated.

Yet, here I was.

When the ceremony began, I took my place behind Luo Fan, the two of us standing before the coffin. The monk lit sticks of incense and chanted, his voice low and melodic, carrying words of release and peace to the heavens. I bowed my head and held the incense, going through the motions even as my mind wandered.

It had been decades since I last attended a burial. I hated them. I hadn’t even gone to the burial of the late crown prince of Xianru, yet here I stood, enduring this for Luo Fan. The thought alone made my teeth clench.

But I endured it, because I needed him to fulfill his part of our bargain. After this, he would have no choice but to come with me without complaint. It was a means to an end, I reminded myself. Nothing more.

And yet, when Luo Fan opened the coffin and pressed a kiss to Jinjing’s cold, lifeless forehead, I felt something shift inside me. My jaw tightened, and a heat I couldn’t name flared in my chest.

Why did it bother me so much?

She was a corpse, her soul already gone. Yet, seeing the tenderness in his gesture, the way his grief poured from him in waves, filled me with an irrational envy I couldn’t suppress.

The funeral guild staff helped lower the coffin into the grave, their movements careful and deliberate. As soon as it was in place, Luo Fan took the shovel and began filling the hole himself. Dirt cascaded down, each shovelful accompanied by the quiet murmur of the monk’s final prayers.

When it was done, Luo Fan collapsed to the ground beside the freshly packed earth. He sat there, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. Dirt streaked his face and robes, and his hair clung to his damp forehead. He looked utterly spent, a man broken by his grief.

The attendants placed a bouquet of flowers and a simple marble marker over the grave before departing with the monk. Silence fell over the clearing, broken only by the faint rustle of wind through the trees.

Luo Fan didn’t move. He remained seated, staring at the grave as though his soul were buried with her.

I gave him a few moments, knowing he needed this closure, but my patience had its limits. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, and the last thing I wanted was to be caught in the wilderness after nightfall.

“We’ll lose the light soon,” I said as I approached. My voice was even, though I felt far from calm. “We have to go.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his stillness bordering on defiance. Then, slowly, he raised his head. His eyes, red-rimmed and haunted, didn’t meet mine. Instead, he fixed his gaze on the grave one last time before standing.

Without a word, he turned and walked toward the carriage, his steps heavy with exhaustion.

I watched him go, my chest tightening with emotions I refused to name. As much as I hated seeing him like this, a part of me couldn’t deny the strange ache that lingered—a sharp pang of something dangerously close to jealousy.