Chapter 31: Every Debt Must Be Repaid

Listening to the words spoken by the Butterfly across from him, the Master of the Mountain smiled and looked at his guest.

“This isn’t much of a secret.”

The young man nodded. “Indeed, it’s no secret, for it is legend.”

A secret is called a secret because it is true; a legend is called a legend because no one has ever truly seen it.

The Mountain Master regarded him. “So you wish to verify this legend?”

“That’s right,” Butterfly replied, nodding. He surveyed the room, then said, “After all, the Academy was founded by that Sage.”

“But that Sage also had his own disciples. None of those he personally taught managed to take that step. Given his character and temperament, he had no reason to withhold anything from his students.” The Mountain Master spoke softly.

“So you mean to suggest I should ask the Headmaster myself?” the youth inquired.

“If you enter the Academy, meeting the Headmaster is not a difficult matter,” the Mountain Master replied coolly. “In any case, entering the Academy will be easy for you.”

“No one can be absolutely certain of passing the Three Trials,” the youth said earnestly.

“No, no one can,” the Mountain Master smiled. “But you should know that every year, the Three Trials bring forth the very best among the candidates.”

“Karlotes,” the youth uttered the name.

“Ah, him.” The Mountain Master smiled with a touch of meaning. “A very interesting and formidable child—you’ll be glad to meet him. If you too enter the Academy, your paths will cross often.”

“Yes, I look forward to meeting him. I was supposed to appear in the Hall of Stars now, but I chose to seize this chance to come here instead,” the youth said calmly. “After all, my time is not abundant.”

“If your time is short, then I’ll get to the point.” The Mountain Master fixed his gaze on the youth. “You’ve come all this way. What is it you seek?”

“I want you to save someone’s life,” the youth replied.

The Mountain Master was surprised. “Surely not your own?”

His reluctance to preserve the youth’s life was almost palpable.

“No,” the youth answered simply.

“That’s good.” The Mountain Master immediately smiled.

“And if I said it was?” the youth pressed further.

“Then I’d have to say ‘very well’ too,” the Mountain Master sighed. “But you know, keeping you alive is no simple task.”

“That’s why I’ve always kept my own life in my own hands,” the youth said coolly. “I want you to save the girl by my side.”

The Mountain Master was taken aback. He looked at the youth, silent for a long moment.

“This isn’t the you I’m familiar with,” the Mountain Master said.

“What is my ‘style’?” the youth asked. “Abandonment? Sacrifice? Or perhaps bait?”

The Mountain Master considered. “Resolute.”

Resolute—that is, once a decision is made, one walks the path to its end without turning back.

“If there were a choice, who would willingly be so resolute?” the youth smiled at the Mountain Master. “You’re surprised that I choose to use the favor you owe me for this, aren’t you? Surprising you already pleases me.”

“Just last night, Mo Yun received an order that has not come to him for a very long time,” the Mountain Master said quietly. “He left. I meant to keep him, but I could not.”

“Mo Yun, is it?” The youth pondered, then chuckled. “That’s troublesome indeed.”

“He is somewhat acquainted with me, and I value talent,” the Mountain Master said, “but ultimately, he belongs to Dark Star.”

At the mention of Dark Star, the youth’s eyes flickered with a brief glint.

Even such a fleeting change did not escape the Mountain Master’s notice.

“I was unaware you had dealings with Dark Star,” the Mountain Master remarked.

“It’s not that I deal with Dark Star—I owe them a debt. And I always repay my debts,” the youth replied, his tone cool and distant.

“You’ve brought me nothing but surprises today,” the Mountain Master said. “A debt to Dark Star is not easily borne.”

“Not for me,” the youth replied. “So, it seems my involvement in the Leaf Night affair is no longer much of a secret, is it?”

“It’s not because of you,” the Mountain Master looked at the youth. “I can’t imagine why Xi Ye came here too. It’s because of you, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” The youth did not deny it. “I gave him a hint, and he deduced the rest.”

“You want to save him, don’t you?” the Mountain Master asked.

The youth pressed his lips together. “There are many I wish to save.”

“But only he was willing to follow the twisted and winding clues you left all the way here, wasn’t he?” the Mountain Master said.

“Yes,” the youth nodded. “In truth, the past fourteen years have not been unkind to me.”

“Listen to yourself—is that something a person would say?” the Mountain Master retorted. “If you knew what my life was like before entering Leaf Night Academy, you might rethink those words.”

“That’s why I said ‘not unkind’,” the youth replied. “I consider them my family.”

The Mountain Master gazed at him too. “If the day you speak of really comes, your family may all perish.”

“That’s why I repay my debts,” the youth repeated. “If someone truly wants me to owe even more, I don’t mind writing another line in my ledger.”

“Your little book is more frightening than I imagined,” the Mountain Master commented. “It’s filled with names, yet they all share one title.”

“That’s right—monsters,” the youth nodded. “Even you, sitting across from me, are a monster, aren’t you?”

“At present, you can barely be called a little monster,” the Mountain Master smiled at him. “In a world full of monsters, only by becoming one yourself can you survive and protect others.”

“It feels as if you’re reciting my lines, or perhaps you’ve experienced something similar to me,” the youth lowered his head and laughed softly. “It’s not bad to find kindred spirits in this world.”

“It’s not bad at all,” the Mountain Master agreed. “But your goal is not the same as mine.”

“You’re content so long as you become a monster, one among many, so that no one can devour you easily,” the youth replied. “But I want more than that. I want to be the greatest among all monsters—so that at the sight of me, you’ll tremble, and when I command you all to stop preying on people, you’ll obey.”

His eyes were dark and deep. He spoke the most arrogant words, but his expression was calm and earnest.

He genuinely meant to turn these words into reality, not merely speak boastful nonsense.

“You know how ancient some monsters are,” the Mountain Master said quietly. “And how terrifying others can be.”

“Yes, you know that—and knowing all this, you chose to walk this path of certain death. That, truly, is courage.”

“Is that why you’ve chosen to sponsor me?” the youth smiled. “I never took the Mountain Master for a sentimental man.”

“Of course not. I killed all my sentimentality in my youth,” the Mountain Master replied flatly. “That’s why I was so surprised, knowing you came here to ask me to save a life.”

“You must remember, there are many monsters in this world, but there is only one Third Highness.”

“That is precisely why I like the Third Highness best,” the youth said softly. “I’ve read many despairing reports in that palace, but only the Third Highness stands apart, pure and untainted. If only all the world’s monsters were gentle children like him.”

“In fact, when I entered the Academy, the Third Highness had just arrived,” the Mountain Master seemed to recall. “But in the blink of an eye, nearly thirty years have passed.”

“In all the information I’ve seen, there is nothing about the Third Highness’s origins,” the youth said.

“Don’t ask, don’t speak, and don’t seek to know,” the Mountain Master said, for the first time showing a grave expression. “You know there are things so terrifying that even their names must not be uttered—for you yourself are one of those terrors.”

“But the origins of the Third Highness are even more dreadful than those terrors.”

The youth lowered his head, lost in thought.

Then he looked up.

The Mountain Master gazed at him.

“Even if you guess, you must not say,” the Mountain Master said softly.

The youth let out a long breath.

“Then I’ll take my leave,” he said.

“Don’t you want any other help?” the Mountain Master asked. “You know how much you could get from me.”

“Your wares all have clear price tags,” the youth replied calmly. “Have you heard the saying?”

“That everything you receive in life as a gift already has its price marked in secret.”

“I haven’t, actually,” the Mountain Master sighed. “But it makes sense. Is there more?”

“Of course.” The youth turned toward the door. He walked all the way to the threshold, placed a hand lightly on the handle, and looked back at the chestnut-haired, violet-eyed man behind the desk.

“There’s only one kind of heroism in this world.”

“And that is, after seeing all the world’s cruelty, still loving it.”

…

Farther than the farthest distance, there stands a grand and magnificent city.

This city is called Zhan Ge.

She is older than old, greater than great.

Once, she was nearly the center of the world. Even now, she remains one of the greatest cities in existence.

This is not only because she is the capital of the Siter Empire.

Long before the Siter Empire was founded, she stood upon this land for tens of thousands of years.

To this day, the world’s tallest and most majestic imperial palace stands here, receiving the reverence of all.

Yet deep within this palace, in its most hidden chamber, there echoed heart-wrenching coughs.

The coughing man seemed on the verge of coughing out his lungs, but no one dared approach him.

He was left alone in that vast, dark room, coughing endlessly, again and again.

Until the sound of a second person’s footsteps entered.

This newcomer ignored the incessant coughing, walked straight to the desk, and slowly drew from his sleeve a small medicine grinder. He placed a handful of black berries into it, steadied the grinder with both hands, and began to grind them meticulously in rhythm with the coughs. Only when he had reduced the berries to a powder finer than flour did he stop and pour the powder onto a spread piece of white paper.

He then produced a tiny vial, poured out a golden, honey-like viscous liquid onto the powder, mixed them thoroughly, and rolled the mixture into pellets about the size of peanuts.

Throughout, the coughing never ceased.

Only when he picked up the pills and approached the sickbed at the back of the room did he pause to study the man lying there, hacking with effort.

It was a man who did not appear old; his hair and eyes were a dazzling, unforgettable gold, but his face was as pale as paper. He lay almost rigidly, coughing violently, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He made no other sound or movement.

Only when the second person spoke did he react.

“Brother, time to take your medicine,” he said, offering the freshly made pills.

He did not touch the man, nor did he intend to help him eat. He had not even prepared a glass of water.

Yet the man on the bed finally extended his hand, palm up.

The second man pressed the pills into his palm, and at once, he shoved all seven or eight into his mouth, held his breath, chewed hard, and swallowed.

“Even with purple marrow wax, they must still be bitter,” the second man said softly.

“Bitter medicine cures illness,” the sick man finally spoke.

These rough pills must have possessed some unparalleled effect, for the man who’d been coughing so violently now sat up, his pain ceased, as if nothing had happened.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” the younger brother said with a gentle smile. “Lately you’ve appeared less and less—rumors are starting to spread.”

“What rumors?” the elder asked calmly, still pale.

“The same as always,” the younger sighed. “That my power grows too great, that I may harbor ill intentions; that since our ancestor’s passing, there’s no longer shelter over our heads, and the days ahead may not be peaceful.”

The elder laughed quietly.

“I hear Little Seven’s been gone quite a while,” he said.

“Is it because he hasn’t come to pay respects lately?” the younger asked. “That child is indeed talented, but his mind is deep. Who knows what he’s up to these days? He hasn’t shown himself in a long while.”

The elder turned to look at his brother.

“He came to see me before he left.”