At dusk, the twin Yin-Yang Fish statues simultaneously exhaled bubbles of water, each enveloping one half of Gemstone River Village in a translucent sphere.
Lam Tường Vi went about her duties.
She fetched a wooden basin, filled it with hot water, scattered some flower petals in, and began gently wiping down Lạc Trần with a damp cloth.
The first time she'd seen the gaping hole in his chest - with that strange burning iron heart pulsing inside - she had screamed so loudly that half the neighbouring villagers came rushing in. Even now, she still felt guilty about it and couldn't help lowering her head when she saw his heart.
Lạc Trần offered her a slow, comforting smile.
"I told you it was fine. Anyone seeing this heart of mine for the first time would be startled."
"But... because of me, everyone saw you. They pointed and whispered…"
"Let them talk. Who knows? Maybe one day your young master will become a legend in this village."
"And when that happens, would I - your servant - not also become a legend?"
"I already told you, don't call yourself a servant. Look, I'm an orphan. No family, no kin. From now on, you're my little sister."
"No! At the very least, I need to pay off my indenture first. Then we'll talk!"
Lam Tường Vi shook her head vigorously, her stubbornness shining through. Lạc Trần could only let her have her way.
"Have you ever seen the world outside, young master? I was born in Dry Sea. Never stepped beyond its borders."
"I've only traveled a corner of Aparagodānī, but there are still stories worth telling. Back then, I joined a battle over the celestial meridians. The strongest from every sect showed up. There was a senior brother from Skeletal Mountain - he wielded a bone spear this long. And there was a saintess from Floral Valley. Wherever her foot touched, a flower would bloom. In the midst of combat, hundreds of blossoms scattered through the air - each petal a slicing blade."
He mimicked the motions of each martial move as he spoke, weaving the air with his hands as if reliving the fight.
"Yes, even the little Tathāgata of the Pagoda of Inner Peace was there. He had a move called Nine Seals Zen - an absolute nightmare to deal with."
"'Name not the glory of rising to grace,
A general stands on bones in a blood-soaked place.'
One thrust of that spear, and the chi turned into a mountain of skeletons, a sea of corpses. Just looking at it, you'd lose the will to fight. People used to wonder: why would someone, from the Skeletal Mountain of all places, would trained vigorously in the art of illusions and spent all his time figuring out how to end a fight without violence?"
"'Ten thousand violets, a thousand reds - yet none are truly flowers bred.'
A single strike, and the battlefield turned dazzling with colors. Flowers bloomed that weren't truly flowers, hiding lethal blades beneath their beauty. No wonder they called her the Lovely-Handed Flower Fairy - beauty hiding bloodlust."
"'Inner Lion Seal - Ten Thousand Trees in Bloom.
Outer Lion Seal - Golden Bell Zen.'
The first move healed his injuries. The second made him impervious to swords. Damn. You wouldn't know this, but back then we all used to call that little Tathāgata the 'bald roach.' That bastard just wouldn't die!"
As Lạc Trần spoke, Lam Tường Vi listened with wide eyes. Both were completely absorbed.
The villagers of the village of Sickos were kind, but they belonged to another time. Around them, Lạc Trần always felt like a junior - polite, careful, never his full self.
But with Lam Tường Vi as a companion, he was slowly reclaiming the easy swagger of youth.
"You miss them, don't you, young master?"
"Maybe a little. But I think I miss the rivalry more - the banter, the laughing. I once tricked that Skeletal Mountain's senior brother into eating meat, owed Little Tathāgata a fortune in wine money, and even wrestled with the saintess of Floral Valley. Looking back... the world has changed. We're not part of the same circle anymore. I doubt we'll ever cross paths again."
He sighed softly.
By now, Lam Tường Vi had finished cleaning him up and helped him into a fresh robe.
They sat shoulder to shoulder, looking out toward the river.
"You know," Lạc Trần said, "when we get to the village of Sickos, you can't leave your door open like this at night. The village chief's an old man who naps constantly and skips out on responsibilities. Sometimes the darkness seeps in."
"There are no Buddha statues or Yin-Yang Fish statues in the village of Sickos?"
"Nope. We rely entirely on the village chief. So enjoy tonight while you can."
...
Later, he told her about the villagers.
The sleepy chief, the mad doctor, the cripple, the butcher, the blind carpenter, the limbless wine maker, the deaf blacksmith, Madame Mute, and lastly, Mr. Onion. Lam Tường Vi giggled as she listened, saying the village of Sickos sounded delightful.
By midnight, Lạc Trần was just about to blow out the lamp when something stirred outside.
A shadow rose from the river.
This house didn't have the vantage of the one at The Ranch, and normally, Lạc Trần wouldn't have seen anything from this angle. But now the scene unfolded in his mind as vividly as if it had been burned into his consciousness.
Mist curled over the river's surface...
A waterlogged head slowly surfaced from the middle of the stream.
Then the shoulders, the upper torso, and finally the whole body emerged.
Looking closely, he recognized the beggar - the one who had once begged for fish at the temple in the middle of the lake.
His right arm lifted, palm up, as if offering an invisible plate of fruit. His left arm curled tight to his side, fingers pressed together like a lotus bud. One leg lifted, the other bent outward at an impossible angle, as if he had no bones. His head lolled to one side, eyes rolled back, mouth torn wide open, stretching to his ears.
He stood on the water, quivering as though struck by lightning.
Then... he danced.
His movements were jerky, his transitions sudden and bizarre. One moment he stood still; the next, his entire stance shifted. Worse, he flickered across the lake - now to the east, now to the west - leaping erratically.
While Lạc Trần was still trying to make sense of it, he heard a strange chanting begin behind him.
Turning, he saw it was the puppy, and Lam Tường Vi.
Both were kneeling, hands clasped in prayer, mouths hanging open, tongues stiff. That eerie chanting echoed straight from their throats - guttural, alien, hair-raising. Yet their eyes moved with terror, revealing that their minds were still fully conscious.
Something was using them to chant.
Lạc Trần scanned the room, frantically searching for something, anything, that might help.
He tried covering Lam Tường Vi's mouth, slamming the door, using fire, even stabbing, but nothing could stop the chanting. Foam began to drip from their lips. Their eyes rolled back.
"Damn it. What do I do?"
Sweat poured from him like rain.
He tried to rush out to get the butcher or the cripple, but the door had turned solid, like a wall of glass. He couldn't break through.
"Calm down. Think. Why am I not affected? What do I have that they don't?"
It didn't take long for the answer to come.
Celestial fire.
Not just one, but two kinds.
It must be the celestial fires protecting him from the phantom on the river.
Lạc Trần took a deep breath.
Now came the choice.
Option one: unleash Everchanging Ember to save Lam Tường Vi and the puppy. But doing so might disrupt the delicate balance of celestial fires inside his heart. Worst-case scenario: Duskhollow runs wild, and he dies.
Option two: do nothing. Hope that the girl and the puppy survive. But if they don't - he'd live the rest of his life haunted by guilt.
He thought for just a second...
Then made his choice.
He reached inward, calling upon Everchanging Ember - asking it to shield Lam Tường Vi and the puppy from the river's curse.
Warmth stirred in his chest. Anxious, with a flicker of warning.
It was as if Everchanging Ember wanted to be sure: if it acted, Duskhollow would almost certainly rebel.
Could he keep the unruly flame under control?
Lạc Trần didn't know. He didn't care.
He pushed forward anyway.
Golden light surged in his chest, and two shimmering carp of flame swam forth. That soothing warmth filled the room, like a soft blanket on a winter night.
The golden carp swam gently into Lam Tường Vi and the little pup's foreheads.
Both gasped, then collapsed, spasming on the ground. Lạc Trần couldn't tell how the pup looked, but Lam Tường Vi's face had turned ghostly pale.
Still... they were alive.
He slumped against the bedpost, barely able to breathe in relief.
Then, from deep within his heart, a cold, malevolent force began to stir.
Duskhollow wanted out.