### The Echoes of the Past
The pain of this long-buried memory was like an open wound for Biyao, a searing agony she had kept hidden deep within her heart. In this moment of life and death, it resurfaced, stirring her soul to its very core. Her body, already weakened from scarce rations, succumbed to the weight of her memories, and she fell into a deep, unyielding slumber.
Zhang Xiaofan watched the young girl of the Demon Sect, still clutching tightly to him in her sleep, and couldn’t help but shake his head with a bitter smile. Just a short while ago, he himself had been a man who had narrowly escaped the clutches of death, only to find the roles reversed now. Both of them, one after the other, had fallen into a helpless state, making survival seem almost impossible.
After a while, Zhang Xiaofan felt the pull of sleep tugging at him, but he forced himself to sit up straight. He could not bring himself to leave Biyao, who lay in his arms, her face pale and etched with pain. The position, however, was far from comfortable. Sitting on the platform, one foot dangling in the air and the other planted firmly on the ground, he held himself upright, his body straining without any support. The pain and stiffness that crept into his muscles were nothing compared to the agony of Biyao’s grip, which, even in her unconscious state, maintained its vice-like strength. Despite the pain, Zhang Xiaofan gritted his teeth and endured, a testament to his resilience.
As the hours passed, his body began to numb, and he found himself dozing off, caught between the dull ache and the exhaustion that overtook him.
### A Moment of Clarity
“Ah…”
Zhang Xiaofan yawned and woke up, feeling the full weight of his body’s aches and pains. He sighed, only to realize that he was now lying on the platform, and Biyao was nowhere to be seen. Startled, he jumped to his feet and looked around, but the cave was empty, echoing with an eerie silence. A chill ran down his spine, as if he were standing in a tomb. Without a second thought, he began to search for Biyao.
He searched the chamber of the divine scriptures and the treasure room, but there was no sign of her. After a moment’s reflection, he headed out, and soon, he found her in the shrine dedicated to the two dark gods of the Demon Sect.
Biyao was kneeling before the benevolent and stern faces of the Holy Mother Yuming and the fearsome Mingwang, her shoulders trembling despite her efforts to remain composed. Her sobs, though muffled, filled the air, and she was crying.
Zhang Xiaofan stood there, dumbfounded. He never imagined that this strong-willed girl would break down in such a vulnerable moment. He slowly approached her, hesitating, “You… uh, why… don’t cry!”
To his surprise, his words only made her sobs louder. She lifted her head, her face, once so delicate, now streaked with tears. Zhang Xiaofan was at a loss, unsure how to comfort her. His awkward attempts seemed to make matters worse, and he stammered, “You… don’t… this… I… no, you… I mean, I…”
Biyao, her eyes brimming with tears, shook her head, biting her lip, but the floodgates of her grief had opened. Years of suppressed sorrow poured out in that moment.
“It’s me… I’m the one who killed my mother!” she sobbed, her voice laced with anguish.
Zhang Xiaofan shook his head, seeing her fragile form, and his heart ached. It was like seeing a younger version of himself, alone and helpless. “No,” he said softly, “Your mother loved you more than anyone. You were just a child; how could you have done anything wrong?”
“But… but my father hates me. I know he wishes I were dead. He blames me for her death!” Biyao cried.
Zhang Xiaofan lowered his voice, “No, don’t think like that. Your father didn’t blame you, did he? He came to save you, and has he ever mistreated you?”
Biyao shuddered, her face paling. Zhang Xiaofan could see the sorrow in her eyes, a beauty that was both heartrending and captivating.
She raised her tear-streaked face, her gaze piercing through Zhang Xiaofan, forcing him to look away.
After a long silence, she spoke, her voice soft and distant, “You are a good person.”
Zhang Xiaofan’s heart skipped a beat, and he forced a smile, “No, we are about to die together. Comforting you is the least I can do.”
Biyao gradually stopped crying, wiping her tears, and sighed, “Yes, we are going to die together.” She paused, then added, “Do you regret dying here with me?”
Zhang Xiaofan was taken aback, his mind racing with memories. “I do,” he admitted, his voice low and solemn.
Biyao’s expression hardened, “Hmph, many in the Holy Sect would give anything to die with me. But you… you’re too self-centered!”
Zhang Xiaofan’s anger flared, but seeing Biyao, it subsided. He sighed, “Perhaps. But if I could be buried on Dazhu Peak, I would die with no regrets.”
Biyao’s face darkened, and she stared at him, silent for a long time. “Is it because of your senior sister, Ling’er?”
Zhang Xiaofan leaped up, shocked, “How do you know?”
Biyao turned away, “You mentioned her in your delirium when you were ill.”
Zhang Xiaofan was stunned, and a wave of despair washed over him. He turned and walked out, his back to Biyao, who was left staring at his retreating figure.
### A Ray of Hope
After a long silence, Biyao turned back to the statues, her gaze fixed on the hands of the menacing Mingwang. A realization dawned on her, and she leaped up, her voice full of excitement, “The Heaven-Cleaving Axe! Where is it?”
According to legend, the Holy Mother Yuming was the goddess of all living creatures, while Mingwang, the fierce deity, wielded the Heaven-Cleaving Axe, used to shape the world. The statue in front of her, however, was missing the axe. Biyao knew that this was no coincidence, and she rushed to the adjacent treasure room, determined to find the missing weapon.
Zhang Xiaofan, still lost in thought, was startled by Biyao’s joyful shout. “If you want to live, come here!”
“What?” Zhang Xiaofan rushed into the treasure room, where he saw Biyao struggling to lift a massive iron axe. Together, they managed to drag the heavy weapon to the statue, despite the immense weight. Zhang Xiaofan, panting, asked, “What are you doing?”
Biyao, without explaining, instructed, “If you want to live, help me place this axe in the god’s hand.”
Zhang Xiaofan gasped, “What? What are you planning?”
Biyao, undeterred, led the way, and with great effort, they positioned the axe in the statue’s hand. As they worked, a heavy mechanism began to creak, and the wall behind the statue started to move, revealing a secret passage.
The two of them, driven by the hope of survival, ran through the narrow, dark tunnel, emerging into the light of day. The mountain, once their prison, was now behind them, and they were free.
### A New Beginning
Panting, Zhang Xiaofan and Biyao collapsed on the ground, their bodies exhausted but their spirits renewed. They looked at each other, and a sense of joy and relief washed over them. Biyao, her face dusted with dirt, smiled, “We… we survived!”
Zhang Xiaofan laughed, looking at her radiant smile against the backdrop of the blue sky and the green mountains. For a moment, the world seemed perfect, and they reveled in the simple beauty of life.
Later, they built a small fire, and Zhang Xiaofan prepared a meal. As the aroma of the roasting rabbit filled the air, Biyao, who had been watching hungrily, couldn’t help but marvel at Zhang Xiaofan’s culinary skills. She had never seen a man of the righteous path carrying spices, and it struck her as both peculiar and endearing.
When the meal was ready, Biyao, eager to eat, accidentally burned her hand on the hot meat. Zhang Xiaofan, smiling, cooled the meat and handed her a piece. As they ate, a sense of intimacy and understanding grew between them. Biyao, her face flushed, looked at Zhang Xiaofan, who was equally smitten.
In that serene moment, surrounded by the beauty of nature, they found a new beginning, a chance to start anew, and a glimmer of hope in the midst of their perilous journey.
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