The Weight of Karma

The Tianya Sword trembled faintly in Lin Xiaoxiao’s grip, as if wailing in sorrow, or perhaps pleading.

This divine sword, imbued with profound sentience, seemed to perceive its wielder’s unwavering resolve to embrace death, resonating with the tumultuous struggle of the rampant bloodline within her.

Jiang Jinyue felt as though she were seeing this junior for the first time, a flicker of astonishment crossing her eyes.

The sight was utterly alien, yet bore a faint, unsettling familiarity.

Lin Xiaoxiao had indeed sought death before, but that instance had been born of shame and indignation, defiled by demonic influence—a desperate cry of utter hopelessness.

Yet now, in the eyes of this junior disciple whom she had always dismissed, Jiang Jinyue discerned a gaze almost identical to that of their Senior Disciple Brother, who had once shouldered all burdens alone.

Within that gaze lay exhaustion, but more profoundly, a nearly ruthless clarity and an unyielding resolve, devoid of evasion, brimming only with grim awareness.

She… truly had been taught exceptionally well by Senior Disciple Brother.

Seeing Jiang Jinyue remain motionless for a long moment, Lin Xiaoxiao repeated herself, her voice even clearer than before: “This disciple begs Senior Aunt to wield your spiritual sword and slay the remnants of the Nine Nether!”

The sheer resolve for death within her words, even for Jiang Jinyue, who had already ascended to the pinnacle of the Golden Core realm, could not help but be shaken.

Her hand, poised in mid-air, froze for a moment.

Should she, then, accept the Tianya Sword and sever this lingering threat? Or should she let her hand fall, allowing the towering rage and confusion to consume her?

“Do not act recklessly!”

Mo Tingbei’s reprimand suddenly rang out, his voice, previously hoarse and weak, now robust and commanding, carrying a long-absent, undeniable authority, like a thunderclap shattering the congealed ice within the bamboo edifice!

Jiang Jinyue jolted, the ice crystals suspended at her fingertips nearly shattering.

That voice, that tone, instantly pulled her back to a distant past, to a time when she was still the junior disciple, rigorously tutored by her Senior Disciple Brother, whose imposing back she had always looked up to.

Mo Tingbei’s teachings had always been somewhat… severe. Even after several reincarnations, Jiang Jinyue found herself unable to maintain her composure under his reprimands.

She whirled around, her icy-blue pupils contracting sharply.

There, Mo Tingbei had risen from beside the white jade bed at some unknown moment.

His form remained withered, white hair cascading down, enveloped by an aura of death, as though a mere gust of wind could scatter him.

Yet, at this moment, his back was ramrod straight, and deep within his clouded eyes, a faint but exceptionally resolute flame ignited, illuminating the long-absent solemnity and determination befitting the revitalizing master of the Three-Unity Sword Sect that now settled upon his brow.

He took a step forward, his form swaying slightly, yet he strode with unwavering resolve between the two confronting figures.

His pallid hand extended, not to grasp the sword, but to land with an irresistible force, a heavy slap upon Lin Xiaoxiao’s wrist, which tightly gripped the Tianya Sword!

“Humm—!”

The Tianya Sword let out an even higher-pitched wail, its blade trembling violently, as if poised to tear free from her grasp of its own accord!

Lin Xiaoxiao felt an overwhelming, irresistible force course through her, utterly unlike that of a frail mortal. Her wrist throbbed with excruciating pain, and her fingers involuntarily loosened their hold.

The Tianya Sword flew out, seemingly with a hint of relief, yet it was not caught by the hand it anticipated, instead clattering to the ground.

A crisp clang echoed through the silent bamboo edifice, and the shimmering light flowing across the sword’s surface dimmed. This spiritual sword seemed to have plunged into self-doubt.

“Master…?” Lin Xiaoxiao looked up in stunned disbelief, a profound bewilderment now filling the resolute eyes on her demon-marked face.

‘Could Master possibly have another way? Why would he stop me? I am already content to have lived so many years; now is the time to die and fulfill my wish.’

“Senior Disciple Brother!” Jiang Jinyue did not give up, still intent on making one last attempt.

The frigid aura around her surged, instantly encasing the four walls of the bamboo edifice in thick ice shards, making the very air seem to solidify.

Mo Tingbei, however, remained oblivious to the surging killing intent and frigid energy behind him. His spirits were remarkably high at that moment, his body seemingly brimming with inexhaustible strength. His eyes, burning with a faint flame, were fixed solely on Lin Xiaoxiao, who sat disheveled and distraught on the ground.

“Nonsense,” he murmured, his voice deepening with profound weariness, yet his resolve remained utterly unshaken. “To meekly offer your neck for slaughter like this is the most foolish method. This Nine Nether bloodline corrodes bones and devours hearts; even if you die, it might not dissipate, and could instead erupt uncontrollably, transforming this place into a dead zone and implicating the sect.

“If you were to die here, in your Senior Aunt’s abode, have you considered the immense turmoil it would unleash? For the esteemed Tianya Sword Master to suddenly perish without cause in her own Senior Aunt’s cave dwelling—would that not provide the Immortal Alliance with a pretext to interfere with my Three-Unity Sword Sect?

“Or do you wish for everyone to know you are a descendant of the Nine Nether? Once your bloodline is exposed, the world will not remember your accomplishments; they will only see a cunning and treacherous demon, deceiving the world and stealing fame!

“The sect’s current prosperity has only lasted for a few decades. Do you wish for all our efforts over these years to be utterly wasted? Is that fair to your perseverance all this time?”

His gaze swept over the constantly shifting, ominous demonic patterns on Lin Xiaoxiao’s body, a fleeting, ineffable complexity flashing deep within his eyes.

“Moreover,” he paused, his voice dropping even lower, yet imbued with a strange, undeniable gravity, “I have a way…”

Jiang Jinyue’s pupils constricted abruptly; she instantly grasped his unspoken meaning! The suppressed fury that had almost torn her apart erupted violently once more!

A sudden, inexplicable spiritual energy fluctuation interrupted Mo Tingbei mid-sentence. An invisible domain abruptly unfolded, enveloping the two of them.

Lin Xiaoxiao could only see their lips moving, yet she heard not a single sound.

“Mo Tingbei!” she roared, calling him by his full name for the first time, her icy-blue hair swaying without a breeze, the ice crystals coalescing around her cracking under the strain. “You dare not! I absolutely forbid it! With your body barely able to stand, what do you intend to do?! To replace her… to replace her…”

Those last few words, she found herself unable to utter, feeling as though her heart had been brutally pierced by an ice pick, the pain chilling her to the bone.

Mo Tingbei slowly turned, meeting Jiang Jinyue’s eyes, which blazed with a blizzard’s fury, yet concealed an ineffable terror and agony within their depths.

His face remained expressionless, save for his eyes, which were still remarkably clear.

“Jiang Jinyue,” he spoke her full name. When he addressed her in such a manner, it signified that his decision was beyond alteration.

Mo Tingbei’s voice was soft, yet it strangely overshadowed the surging frigid energy around Jiang Jinyue.

“This is my karma.”

“A single lapse in judgment back then led me to protect her entry into the sect, planting this cause. Now, this consequence must naturally be borne by me.”

He slightly raised his pallid hand, pointing first to the Tianya Sword on the ground, then to Lin Xiaoxiao, whose demonic patterns surged around her, seemingly ready to erupt from her body at any moment.

“Xiaoxiao is a good child. Her body cannot withstand the backlash of a fully awakened bloodline; it will ultimately collapse. And I…”

A profoundly bitter, almost self-deprecating curve tugged at the corner of his mouth as he refrained from uttering the truth they both knew. “This husk of a body is already at its last gasp, its life drawing to a close. It is dilapidated, yet precisely because of its decrepitude, it is the perfect vessel.”

Within the bamboo edifice, even the frozen air seemed to solidify further.

“I need your help. Extract the Nine Nether bloodline from her body and infuse it into my decaying form. I will bear the bloodline’s final madness and backlash until it is utterly annihilated. Only my body can contain this now fully activated Nine Nether Blood.”

Mo Tingbei’s voice was frighteningly calm, as if stating a fact unrelated to himself. “This is the only way I can conceive to definitively end all of this. It will both preserve the sect’s peace and grant her a path to life.”

“A path to life?” Jiang Jinyue’s voice was squeezed out as if from the frigid ice of the Nine Nether, every word imbued with bone-deep coldness and mockery.

“What about you, then, Senior Disciple Brother?! What do you call this?! Feeding yourself to a demon? Or using death as an escape?! How will Junior Sister Ling see me? What will Miss Su think? What am I supposed to do?!”

Those final words were practically screamed, her mask of feigned maturity finally shattering completely, revealing the surging vulnerability and helplessness beneath.

Mo Tingbei offered no reply to her furious questions.

He took two steps forward, and Jiang Jinyue’s expanded domain briefly entangled him, as if making a final plea for him to stay. Yet, after he took one more step, it released him powerlessly.

Mo Tingbei walked over to Lin Xiaoxiao and bent down. His pallid fingers touched the cold ground, eventually resting on the hilt of the dim, lusterless Tianya Sword.

The instant his fingertips brushed the hilt, the quiescent divine sword gave a violent tremor.

A faint, almost mournful sword qi (TL Note: 剑气, jiànqì, spiritual energy infused into a sword) abruptly surged, coiling around his feeble fingers.

Unlike the brilliant ferocity it displayed in Lin Xiaoxiao’s hands, this sword qi carried a scorching, almost all-consuming sorrow.

Mo Tingbei’s fingers tightened slightly, gripping the hilt. He did not lift it, merely leaning on it, as if simply needing support.

He raised his head, his gaze sweeping past Jiang Jinyue, who trembled uncontrollably, her eyes raging with an internal storm, and landed on Lin Xiaoxiao.

That gaze held no reprimand, no blame, only an unfathomable serenity.

“Xiaoxiao,” he began, his voice hoarse, yet possessing a peculiar penetrating power, “Do you trust me?”

Lin Xiaoxiao’s entire body shuddered!

She stared blankly at this Master, so familiar yet so strange.

She saw his withered white hair, the faint yet soul-stirring flame in his eyes, and the wailing Tianya Sword in his hand.

Innumerable images flashed through her chaotic mind—the sword light that severed all in the human purgatory; the tireless guidance through summers and winters in the mountains; the medicine packets left at the cave dwelling door when she was plagued by illness…

The bewilderment in her eyes gradually receded, replaced by a profound, almost overwhelming tremor.

She understood everything.

She did not answer with “yes” or “no,” but merely looked into Mo Tingbei’s eyes, then slowly, with immense effort, nodded once.

She had always blindly followed his every decision.

Within the bamboo edifice, a dead silence spread.

Only the Tianya Sword in Mo Tingbei’s hand continued its sorrowful hum, like a dirge for the impending sacrifice.

Jiang Jinyue stood rooted, beneath her frozen countenance lay a silent maelstrom of shock and a tearing pain.

She knew she could no longer stop him.

Outside the door.

Ye Jinghuang, who had awakened at some unknown point, tightly clasped her lips, her pearly teeth digging into her lower lip, forcefully suppressing the sobs in her throat, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, stubbornly refusing to fall, blurring the sorrowful scene before her.

The sunlight pierced through the bamboo gaps, falling upon the incessantly wailing sword, reflecting a solitary, bright gleam from Master’s pallid knuckles, like the last star before eternal night descended.