WNST - 145

Chapter 145: Crossing the Same Boat

The long night remained unbroken, and the tiny figures walking beneath it felt as though they were treading under the watchful gaze of some inscrutable deity—yet all they saw when they looked up was endless blackness. 

“When I was in Shu, I passed through a place called Wangchuan Valley…” 

Zhang Yuehui spoke intermittently to Nan Yi, trying to distract her from the pain. He could sense her strength rapidly ebbing away. 

“Mm, and then?” Nan Yi replied weakly, her legs moving forward mechanically, numb with exhaustion. 

“In the valley, there’s a river with a jagged, peculiar rock standing in its midst. In the center of the rock is a massive hole… The locals say that long, long ago, this rock was once a mortal man who fell in love with a celestial maiden. Their love was forbidden by heaven and earth. The maiden was punished, condemned to eternal darkness, unable to see her lover even when they were close. The man waited day and night, and eventually, he turned into the stone in the valley.” 

“…But even as a stone, the one he waits for still can’t see him,” Nan Yi murmured faintly. 

“A miraculous thing happens. Around the winter solstice, the last rays of the setting sun shine directly onto the side of the hole, bathing the entire rock in golden light, making it shimmer brilliantly. Only on that day can the maiden use the light to visit her beloved… And those fortunate enough to witness this sight are said to have their wishes granted—be it flesh regrown on bones or time reversed.” 

As he recounted the distant legend, she could almost picture the beautiful valley stream and the slanted golden rays of the setting sun. 

It was all so achingly beautiful—the waiting and longing transcending time, finally rewarded. 

She smiled faintly. People needed such ethereal beauty to prop up the weighty reality of life. Unconsciously, she found herself walking much farther than before. 

But as she glanced at Zhang Yuehui, a sudden pang of guilt struck her. “In Shu… you must have been living well, right?” 

The moment the words left her lips, she regretted them—it was like poking an open wound. 

“Not really,” he replied simply. 

“Why not?” 

“I was too far from home.” 

Her heart felt as if it had been struck with a dull blow. 

At that moment, Zhang Yuehui suddenly stopped walking, pointing ahead with joy. “A town!” 

Nan Yi lifted her head. Finally, the eastern sky began to lighten, revealing a crescent moon. In the dim glow, beyond the horizon of the barren plain, they spotted signs of human habitation. 

They were almost there! It was right before their eyes! 

Hope rose alongside the dawn. 

But as they stood beneath the crude gates of the town, both froze in disbelief. 

This wasn’t Yanlu City—it was a remote, nameless little town neither of them had ever heard of. 

They had gone in the wrong direction. 

In their haste to escape, fearing pursuit, they had blindly rushed through the night without realizing they had lost their way. They couldn’t even pinpoint where they had gone astray. 

Nan Yi collapsed against the wall, sinking to the ground. Despair overwhelmed her as she muttered brokenly, “I’m going to die.” 

The futility of their journey crushed her willpower. The dam she had clung to so desperately crumbled, and the delayed agony surged through her limbs. She wanted to gather herself and continue, but she couldn’t muster an ounce of strength. 

Zhang Yuehui slumped beside her. They resembled nothing more than lumps of mud against the wall, too exhausted to think about what to do next. 

“We need a carriage… or at least a horse,” Zhang Yuehui murmured. 

“No money.” 

Their departure had been too rushed. Getting Qiao Yinzhi to sneak her weapons and the memorial back during the body search was already a feat; she hadn’t anticipated needing money for the final leg of the journey. 

Silent tears streamed down her face. She had wanted to let herself be weak for just a moment, not wanting her emotions to affect Zhang Yuehui. But once the floodgates opened, all her despair burst forth uncontrollably. 

“No money…” Her tears flowed harder, but she couldn’t even sob aloud—the movement would tug at the wound in her collarbone. She could only choke back her sobs pitifully. “I didn’t bring any money…” 

Even a single grain of rice could defeat a hero. 

They had gone off course entirely. Despite her immense effort, she had only drifted further from their goal. 

What could she do? What else was there to do? 

With great difficulty, Zhang Yuehui propped himself up and gently wiped her tears. “It’s okay. We’re not at the end yet.” 

Through her tear-blurred vision, she gazed at him. “I don’t have any strength left, Zhang Yuehui.” 

Until now, she had never allowed herself to entertain the thought of failure—or perhaps some inner resolve had kept her from staring into the abyss. But now, with just one glance, she felt herself being swallowed whole, falling into the void. 

“Even a single copper coin would be enough.” 

The descent seemed to halt. 

Suddenly, Nan Yi remembered something, but her hands were too weak to move. She instructed Zhang Yuehui to search her body for a small pouch. After opening it and sifting through the miscellaneous items inside, a string of copper coins emerged. 

“Where did these come from?” Zhang Yuehui asked, astonished. 

Nan Yi stared blankly. “I took them along with the keys from that guard.” 

It had been pure instinct born of crisis—she had taken everything from the guard’s body. Thankfully, fate hadn’t abandoned them completely. 

“…” 

For the first time, Zhang Yuehui felt that these insignificant copper coins shone brighter than mountains of gold and silver. 

Making money grow was child’s play for him. 

“Heh, wait for me to come back. We’ll have a carriage to ride in.” He weighed the coins in his hand, his familiar mischievous grin returning. 

This instantly calmed Nan Yi’s weary spirit. To her, Zhang Yuehui was invincible. 

Zhang Yuehui draped himself in a sack he had scavenged from the roadside, concealing his bloodstained clothes, and slipped into the town’s gambling den. 

The gambling table was his domain—he was still the king who reigned supreme.

An hour later, Zhang Yuehui emerged from the gambling den clutching a heavy bag of coins. 

He planned to head to the post station to hire a carriage and then stop by the apothecary to buy some medicine for Nan Yi. 

But in his haste, he failed to notice the group of suspicious-looking thugs loitering near the entrance of the gambling den, their eyes fixed greedily on his money pouch. 

Accustomed to looking down on the world from a position of superiority, Zhang Yuehui had lost the instincts of a predator. His pride still blinded him—he had never truly accepted that he had been cast into the lowest rungs of society. What once seemed like mere dust beneath his feet now loomed as insurmountable mountains. 

All he could think about was how close they were to resolving their crisis, and his steps grew lighter with hope. 

It wasn’t until he stepped into a narrow alleyway that he belatedly realized he was being followed. 

When he turned his head, he found himself surrounded at both ends. 

Zhang Yuehui tightened his grip on the money pouch, attempting to defuse the situation: “Good sirs, I’m merely passing through this place temporarily. I have vast wealth back in the Central Plains. Spare me, and I’ll divide all this money among you.” 

His words were met with mocking laughter. 

No one believed him. He looked worse than a beggar. 

“My grandpa’s also got plenty of money—I’ll burn it all for you!” 

One of them swung a fist without hesitation, striking Zhang Yuehui squarely in the face. Caught off guard, he nearly collapsed. 

All his life, he had been a cunning merchant—smooth-talking humans and ghosts alike. But here, neither charm nor wit mattered. He was nothing more than a piece of flesh at their mercy. 

The Asura who had once wielded immense power now found himself trapped in an arena of his own making. 

He had become prey. 

The only way out was to relinquish the money and beg for his life. 

But that money was Nan Yi’s lifeline. 

Zhang Yuehui refused to let go. A surreal absurdity washed over him. He had faced countless masters in battle, exchanging blows, winning and losing. He had always been the master of his domain, seizing others’ fortunes. Never had he imagined that these petty thugs would become the decisive enemies determining his fate. 

Summoning every ounce of strength, Zhang Yuehui fought back with clenched fists. But his injuries left him too weak, and the odds were overwhelmingly against him. Soon, he was utterly overwhelmed by their barrage of kicks and punches. 

Blows rained down on him like hail. He felt no pain; his body seemed weightless, as if floating. In his daze, he drifted upward, watching from above as the vicious thugs pinned him down, smashing his head repeatedly against the wall in an attempt to force him to release the pouch. 

Blood seeped from his wounds, and he felt like a tattered cloth, torn open to the winds. The summer breeze—warm and humid—caressed him like a mother’s hand, soothing his pain. 

“Let go,” a voice whispered. 

“Hold on just a little longer,” another urged. 

But his body no longer belonged to him. Someone leaned in, plunging a sharp dagger into his flesh. All his willpower concentrated in his tightly curled fingers—the only thing he could still hold onto. 

The only thing he could give to Nan Yi. 

Even after his breath had faded, his hand remained unyielding. 

Finally, the thugs sliced open the money pouch, taking what they wanted. With a final kick to his motionless body, they spat, “What bad luck.” 

A life once filled with splendor and unimaginable wealth ended ignobly in this forgotten alley, all for the price of a carriage. 

Zhang Yuehui could almost picture the sighs of future generations—but no one would ever know that, in this moment, he felt a strange sense of relief. It was fitting that his life ended in such absurdity rather than as a celebrated hero immortalized in history. That would have made him uncomfortable. From now on, when people mentioned Zhang Yuehui, they’d simply think of him as an unlucky villain. 

The only person he felt sorry for was Nan Yi. He wished to leave her all his hopes in this world, praying she would escape, live well, and fulfill her heart’s desires. 

Only at the brink of death did he understand the meaning of the saying, “A bad life is better than a good death.” Once fearless of death, he had sought only vengeance, dragging everyone into hell with him. But now, how he longed to live. Yet he could no longer endure. 

In the last instant before closing his eyes, Zhang Yuehui saw the colorful lanterns hanging outside the alley—it was Qixi Festival. 

They had once sat together on a Qixi night, gazing at fireworks rising over the city. “A thousand trees bloom under the eastern wind, scattering stars like rain.” 

In the dim light, she had smiled and said, “When you’re rich, set off a big one for me.” 

“All right, wait for me.” 

“In the next life, I’ll be a good man. I’ll find you first—and I won’t let go.”