Volume One, Chapter Fourteen: A Cloud of Suspicion

"One room, please." With those words squeezed through her teeth, Mu Qing fell silent, handling all the necessary paperwork herself. Once the deposit was paid, she seized Mo De by the arm and, under the front desk clerk’s curious gaze, rushed straight for the elevator.

"Young couples these days... always in such a hurry," the clerk muttered.

But Mu Qing truly had no time to lose. The black fire raging inside her was about to burst free; there was no time to take Mo De back to her previously arranged lodgings.

Mo De, for his part, said nothing. Every nerve in his body was on edge. The woman before him was no ordinary person—he could sense strange activity in the black line around his wrist, accompanied by waves of burning heat, as if the black thread was resonating with something within her.

Still, Mo De was certain the woman meant him no harm. This instinct was part innate, part born of a history long since sealed away. Whether kindness or malice, wrath or murderous intent, he could sense the subtle shifts in a person’s emotions. Without this sensitivity, he would have died long ago in that haunted place, never living to see the day when a man shattered hell’s gates with a single kick.

The moment they entered the room, Mu Qing staggered and nearly collapsed. Quick as lightning, Mo De caught her, only to find her skin burning hotter by the second.

"Take me... to the bathroom..." Her voice was a faint, feverish whisper. Mo De was utterly bewildered—why had this woman dragged him here in such a rush, only to collapse before she’d said a word? In his confusion, he could only comply, supporting her into the bathroom.

No sooner had he propped her against the tiled wall than wisps of illusory black flame erupted from every inch of her body, threatening to draw him in as well. Bracing himself against the wall, he struggled as the black fire’s inexorable pull began dragging him closer.

In a flash of intuition, Mo De thrust out his right hand, pressing it firmly onto her shoulder.

It was as if a dam had broken. The violent, surging black flames found their outlet, racing into Mo De’s right hand. The fire was intangible, burning neither clothing nor walls, but the instant it touched his skin, a scorching heat overwhelmed his senses, leaving his mind blank.

The black thread around his wrist twisted and flickered as it made contact with the flames, then solidified once more, greedily devouring the endless torrent of black fire pouring into his hand.

Above the raging inferno, a single drop of coolness descended from some immeasurable height, instantly washing away the heat. All Mo De could feel now was a soothing, blissful chill, and as it enveloped him, drowsiness swept over. His body grew heavy and unresponsive, and he finally collapsed backward.

His right hand, still gripping Mu Qing’s shoulder, did not let go. Thus, her body too was pulled down beside him.

Thud. Thud. Two dull thumps. Then, silence. Only the black, phantom flames continued to burn unchecked over their bodies—surging from one, cascading into the wrist of the other.

As the black fire poured in, the black thread around Mo De’s wrist grew ever deeper, ever more solid. The ancient bronze clasp attached to it, however, slowly shrank and finally vanished, as if absorbed completely...

...

Dragged through hellfire, with no hope of surfacing. Bearing the weight of the burning sun, with no escape. Walking the road of flames, with no end in sight.

Such was his fate—until salvation came.

The eternal barrier was shattered, the karmic chains of reincarnation consumed. The black fire that once scorched the soul faded away, a single moment of clarity bringing relief, as if a mountain’s weight had lifted—at last, peace.

Instinctively, Mu Qing reached forward in her sleep, clinging tightly to the comfort before her, and drifted into a deep slumber.

In his own dreams, Mo De frowned, feeling the clouds soft and inviting yet smotheringly close, leaving him a little short of breath.

...

Who knows how long passed in that formless void, as years slipped by in dreams. Slowly awakening, Mo De felt parched, a metallic sweetness lingering in his mouth and nose. Rubbing his nose, a sharp sting roused his groggy mind.

"Where am I...?" He rubbed his heavy eyelids and sat up to survey his surroundings.

He was lying on a huge round bed, the rose-hued light making the dark walls even gloomier. Sniffing, he reached for a tissue from the bedside table and carefully wiped his nose.

Apparently, he’d had a nosebleed. Staring at the dried blood on the tissue, he drew this conclusion slowly.

Wait—he’d been dragged here by someone. That person... Before he could untangle his confused thoughts, a door opening nearby distracted him.

"Awake? Go wash your face and clear your head," came a lazy woman’s voice, along with the scent of steam and fragrant bathwater. Mo De looked up to see a figure wrapped in a white bathrobe emerge from the bathroom.

"What did you do to me?" he demanded, heart pounding, rolling off the bed and putting distance between them, both frightened and furious.

"What did I do? I just gave a certain little lecher a straight right to the face," the woman replied, massaging her chest with a hint of anger in her tone as she looked him over, clearly weighing whether to throw another punch for good measure.

Mo De, surprised, quickly checked himself—his clothes were intact, his only injury seemed to be his nose. Relieved, he relaxed a little.

"Who are you?" he pressed. "Go wash your face, or I’ll gladly put you back to sleep for another hour or two." She cracked her knuckles, the sound sharp and crisp, making Mo De swallow nervously. Another tough one, he thought.

He sidestepped her and slipped into the bathroom. Warm steam mixed with the scent of herbs and flowers filled the air. Wiping the condensation from the mirror, Mo De saw his own disheveled reflection—no one would want to speak to a man with half his face covered in blood, not even the victim, much less the perpetrator.

He washed away the blood, feeling much more refreshed, though his mouth was still dry.

Returning to the living area, he spotted an assortment of bottles on a nearby shelf, grabbed one, twisted off the cap, and drank deeply. Rehydrated, he pulled up a stool and sat across from the woman, who perched on the edge of the bed.

"Ask whatever you want." Mu Qing spoke coolly, giving him the initiative. In the bathroom, she’d been shocked to discover that the black fire plaguing her for so long had mostly vanished. No longer under its constant threat, she wasn’t as anxious as before.

"Who are you? Why were you looking for me? And..." Mo De hesitated briefly, but finally asked, "Where did you get those sunglasses?" He was done hesitating. Once, every clue about the man had vanished, and Mo De had given up trying to unravel the mystery. But now, with a lead, he wasn’t about to let go.

He wanted to know why the man had set such a scheme, why after meeting him once, he had chosen to die alone.

"For certain reasons, I can’t tell you everything I’ve seen or learned." Mu Qing raised her slender index finger. "Second, everything I tell you is true, at least from my perspective." She extended her middle finger, facing him with complete openness. "I will not lie to you," she added, word by word.

Mo De was a little surprised, but sat up straight, listening intently to what she would say next.

"My name is Mu Qing. For certain reasons, I stayed in Canghai City in early August. On August ninth, I happened to be at the Wuyu Town harbor." Hearing this, Mo De’s body tensed, but he held himself in check and let her continue.

"I inherited my father’s sight—my eyes are not like other people’s. That day, in the small town, I saw you and that man." She sipped her water, throat still dry.

She was carefully choosing which truths to share; when it came to the divine being, she could not utter a word. Not only because that presence was too sacred to be glimpsed, questioned, or discussed, but also because, when the man had given her those sunglasses, he had made a gesture: finger to lips—a sign for silence. She would never speak a word to anyone of what she’d seen after that divinity descended.

"And then?" Mo De pressed, eager for more details about that day.

"Then the pillar of flame rose to the sky. My eyes were scorched by the black fire. Just before passing out, I received these sunglasses—and with them, my life. Without them, I’d have been burned alive right there, or if I somehow survived, I’d never have gotten out of bed again, let alone walked freely."

"After that, I searched for a way to deal with the black fire and for information about that man, but found nothing. No records mention this black fire, nor any trace of him. The only hope was the 'ancient relics' kept in repositories around the country—only the unknown can counter the unknown." She paused, her gaze questioning if Mo De knew what "ancient relics" meant.

With a hint of sorrow, Mo De nodded, indicating for her to continue.

"Starting in late August, I visited every repository I could, trying to interact with every ancient relic, but nothing worked. Until today, when the black fire suddenly changed—reacting with something outside me. That’s when I found you, traveling with that girl." Mu Qing stretched, her tone noticeably lighter—she hadn’t realized how relieving it was to finally share her burdens.

"When the black fire surged, I had no choice but to pull you away, hoping to weather the eruption somewhere private, and then have a proper conversation. I never expected that, by pure luck, you’d resolve most of my problem in one go."

"Then why did you hit me?" Mo De interjected.

"Want to know? Come here and take another punch—then I’ll tell you," Mu Qing teased, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, though her ears reddened faintly, hidden by the rose-tinted light. After all, she’d clung to him like a pillow while unconscious, but this brat had gripped her so tightly her chest was still sore—who knew when the bruises would heal?

"Never mind," Mo De waved her off, seeing she wasn’t joking.

"So, what’s your name, kid?"

"Mo De. 'Mo' as in 'seek not outside,' and 'De' as in 'to seek and not obtain.'"

"Oh... Then let me introduce myself again. I’m Mu Qing—'Mu' as in 'admire by name,' 'Qing' as in 'blue after rain.'" She repeated, intrigued by his answer.

"Anything you want to ask me?" Mo De stood, stretching his back and countered her question.

"Everything else can wait—we’ll get to it in time. Right now, I just want to know: what was that man’s name?"

Mo De pressed his lips together, finally speaking the name.

"Li Changsheng."

"Li, as in 'plum tree.' Changsheng, as in 'long vision, long life.'"