"It's all right."
Elder Peach crouched quietly before the peachwood tree. The tree knelt in the dirt, collapsed before him, wailing as if it could finally pour out all its grief and rage.
Ever since his master met with misfortune, Elder Peach hadn’t spoken to anyone for over a year. No one could understand his situation. He desperately sought help, but no one could reach him. His master’s tragedy left deep scars, and then came Yining’s death—two disasters that destroyed everything for him in a short time.
"Now, can you talk to me? Elder Peach, what happened to you—what drove you to consort with ghosts, even to rely on them to survive?"
Elder Peach remained silent, head bowed. Once, he deeply admired people like Zachary Justice, wanting to become someone righteous and outspoken, full of integrity. From the moment he first saw Zachary Justice, and as he learned more, Elder Peach longed to be like him.
But Elder Peach never followed the path of those he admired. As his mastery of Taoist arts grew, he strayed further from it.
Everyone fears death, especially those in the Taoist world. Elder Peach had seen many practitioners face their final moments, all terrified of dying. Many resorted to forbidden arts to prolong their lives. Even his master wrestled with this before his death.
Nearing forty, Elder Peach was haunted by the same fear. He knew he would die before fifty—his allotted lifespan. Knowing the date of your death is no blessing.
His dealings with Wraithshade were no accident—they sprang from a desperate wish to live. He revealed many secrets of the Taoist sect to Wraithshade, who in turn taught him much, including how to stretch his life beyond its natural end.
Elder Peach was not particularly gifted, and his master, Elder Peter Pine, had said he was not a good teacher. Unlike other sects, where the Eight Scions were all talented, those disciples gradually understood life and death and achieved longevity through cultivation. Elder Peach could never attain such serenity and detachment.
Because of the unique nature of the Mount Mason Order—rooted in Taoism, blended with Buddhist teachings and other obscure practices—the sect has evolved over generations, but no member has ever lived past sixty.
Most of the techniques practiced involve controlling or exorcising ghosts. Constant exposure to such forces gradually weakens the body, yet the Mount Mason Order has managed to survive for centuries, clinging to its inheritance.
Those who use their arts for greed or laziness have even shorter lives. If not for the inheritance of the Ninefold Verity Incantations by successive generations, the Mount Mason Order might have been expelled from the Daoist community long ago.
Elder Peach never looked at what his master left behind. Even if his master hadn’t been killed by Wraithshade, he would have died within a few months. After witnessing his master’s duel with Wraithshade and his death, Elder Peach was consumed by grief and rage—but more than anything, he feared he would follow the same doomed path.
The burden his master left him meant that for the dozen years he had left, he was forced to train disciples. This was never the life he wanted. The dazzling image of himself—independent, upright, like Zachary Justice—was nothing but a fleeting illusion.
So after his master’s death, Elder Peach chose to follow Wraithshade, receiving countless rewards. He easily broke through the boundary of life and death, but after Yining’s death, everything changed. He grew to hate Wraithshade, hate himself, and loathe the life and character he’d become. There was no turning back.
Elder Peach slowly stood, wracked by violent coughing. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, staining his lips dark red.
"Master, this man is dying. Why hesitate? Strike him down with your sword—he’s killed many using forbidden arts."
A childish voice rang out. A boy of eleven or twelve, with rosy lips and white teeth, walked over.
"Anle, don’t speak nonsense."
Zachary Justice turned his head. Behind him, a boy taller than Anle by a head, about sixteen or seventeen, walked over and grabbed Anle by the arm.
"Wuju, take Anle over there and keep watch. If anyone comes, tell them your master is here to slay monsters and exorcise demons."
In that moment, Elder Peach’s eyes grew wet again. He lowered his head and whimpered. He was neither human nor ghost now—he had no face to meet his dead master, nor to face Zachary Justice.
Zachary Justice smiled faintly, unfastened a small gourd from his waist, and twisted off the cap. The scent of wine filled the air. He took a few gulps, then handed the flask over.
"Drink a little. It’ll help."
Elder Peach shook his head, kept his gaze down, and turned to leave. In that instant, his mind was filled with thoughts of death.
"Kill me, Master Justice."
Suddenly, Elder Peach turned around and raised his head, his eyes lifeless, his face ashen. He staggered forward, step by step, until he stood before Zachary Justice.
"Why?"
Zachary Justice smiled, but Elder Peach shouted in agitation.
"In the Daoist world, few can extend their lives by living in harmony with nature. Most fear death, so they turn to forbidden arts—draining others’ life force, seeking substitutes, borrowing years—just to survive. Master Justice, you’re over sixty, yet you look barely forty. Those people don’t even recognize you as one of their own, but everything you’ve done, everything you’ve understood, is greater than theirs. I’m just a failure. I couldn’t do it. My fate was sealed the day I followed my master. So many times I wanted to live my own way, but I couldn’t. I’m a coward. A weakling. Master Justice, kill me. I’m beyond saving."
Faced with Elder Peach’s turmoil, Zachary Justice said nothing. With a swift motion, he drew the Chongyang Starblade from his back and slashed toward Elder Peach’s neck.
Elder Peach squeezed his eyes shut in terror, but as the blade swept toward his neck, he dropped to his knees, frozen in place, grinning foolishly.
Zachary Justice held his sword, squatted down silently, and planted the blade in the ground beside him.
"In this world, whether the righteous path or the demonic, life and death are problems everyone must face. All men fear death, but have you ever thought about what lies beyond it? Many cannot cross that threshold because they never dare to imagine what comes after death."
As Zachary Justice spoke, he turned and smiled, then stood up and pulled a golden talisman from his pocket, handing it to Elder Peach. The moment Elder Peach took it, golden light flared, crackling in the air. Elder Peach screamed in terror as Zachary Justice suddenly crouched, forming hand seals. The Chongyang Starblade rose from the ground, shot through Elder Peach’s body, leaving a gaping hole in his chest. His eyes widened, his head tilted back, and his consciousness faded away.
In a haze, Elder Peach regained consciousness. He frantically checked his body—his previously rotting left cheek had miraculously healed, and his body felt light, the looming sense of death gone, replaced by vitality. A fit of coughing interrupted him, and Elder Peach turned his head.
He seemed to be in an inn. Zachary Justice’s hair was now completely white, his face pale, age etched into every line—a stark contrast to before.
With a thud, Elder Peach fell to his knees, offering thanks over and over.
"Master Justice, thank you for saving me. Thank you..."
Zachary Justice smiled and stood. At that moment, the door opened and Anle entered, carrying a bowl of porridge, scowling at Elder Peach on the floor.
"Master, why save this wretch? And you gave him ten years of your lifespan—hmph."
Elder Peach’s eyes widened in shock. Zachary Justice shook his head.
"Anle, perhaps one day you’ll understand. You’re still young."
Anle glared at Elder Peach in frustration. Just then, Wuju entered the room.
"Master, you can help for a moment, but not for a lifetime. If a man cannot save himself, he isn’t worth saving."
Elder Peach lowered his head in shame. He didn’t know what art Zachary Justice had used. In his own desperate pursuit to transcend human limits, he’d once used a forbidden technique taught by Wraithshade and had succeeded—but to go further, he would have needed other spells, most requiring the souls of others as sacrifice.
During those days, Elder Peach was tormented by guilt, which led to his failure—and the pain of Yining’s death would haunt him for life.
"Will you walk with me for a while?"
Zachary Justice asked softly. Elder Peach stared in disbelief, then finally nodded.
He still couldn’t understand what Zachary Justice meant about things beyond life and death—the words spoken yesterday lingered in his mind.
He opened the window. Outside, sunlight was blinding, the street bustling. The haunting in the county town had been resolved; the corpses of the dead had finally been found.
"Master Justice, once you fall into the demonic path, perhaps you can never escape for the rest of your life."
Just outside the town, Elder Peach asked quietly. Zachary Justice stopped in his tracks.
"Demonic path? Righteous path? Who decides these definitions? Heh. The reason for such distinctions is that you cannot see the truth of this world."