Journey to the End of the Night

24: Chapter 24: The Fragrance of Wine and the Stench of Corpse 24: Chapter 24: The Fragrance of Wine and the Stench of Corpse She took the green jade liquor pot from her waist and, looking over at Baili An who stood alone to the side, said, “Come join me for a drink.”

Baili An shook his head, replying, “I cannot drink.”

It wasn’t that he had a low tolerance.

It was because corpse demons could not drink.

Yin Baishuang let out an “oh,” her gaze falling on the little deer crouched by his feet munching on fruit, and added, “Then let it keep me company as I drink.”

Baili An’s mouth twitched, and he shielded the fawn with his body, fearing she would forcefully pour alcohol into the young deer.

With a helpless smile, he said, “Can’t you drink by yourself?

That jade pot of yours looks quite valuable, and the liquor inside must also be extraordinary.

It’s too much of a waste for the fawn to drink it.”

Yin Baishuang replied, “This pot is indeed expensive, but the liquor within is cheap.

Whether you drink it or it does, neither would be wasteful, and as for your question about whether I can drink alone…

I have been drinking alone for hundreds of years.

Today, I simply wish to have someone accompany me in my drinking.”

The young girl held her rice bowl, biting on her chopsticks, her eyes nearly dropping into the bowl.

Good heavens, this beautiful lady has actually lived for hundreds of years!

As Baili An looked into her tranquil gaze, his heart softened, as if it were in the presence of Shou, and he softly acquiesced, “Alright, I’ll join you in your drink.”

Just as he walked over and was about to sit down, she suddenly rose and said, “Let’s drink somewhere else?”

Baili An glanced down at the young girl who was busily adding wild vegetables to her father’s bowl, made an affirming sound, but didn’t ask where she proposed they drink instead.

Shoulder to shoulder, the two silently headed toward the back of the straw hut.

The hunter, who was lowering his head eating his dish, suddenly buried his face lower, the dark shadow obscuring his facial expressions, making them indistinct.

Behind the straw hut was a clear well, within which the full moon’s reflection shimmered clearly.

Under the serene moonlight, two figures, one dressed in black and the other in red, sat side by side by the well.

She brought the jade pot to her lips and took a light sip, lifting her head to look at the moon and suddenly sang softly:

“Branches of orchids, a child’s xiao pendant.”

“Though a xiao pendant I wear, you’re not unaware.”

“Calm yet advancing, with a quivering belt sash so despairing.”

“Leaves of orchids, a child’s she pendant.”

“Though a she pendant I wear, you cannot pretend you don’t care.”

“Calm yet advancing, with a quivering belt sash so despairing.”

Her voice had a natural clarity and ethereal quality, and although the tune was a cheerful love song sung by youths, under her tremulous voice, it took on a different hue of melancholy.

Baili An listened placidly, taking the jade pot she passed to him.

Her lips, untouched by rouge, left no hint of flirtatious vermilion on the rim of the pot.

Yet, the very act of a man and woman sharing a single pot was, in itself, an intimate gesture.

Neither of them seemed to notice, and as Baili An gently swirled the pot, the sediment that had settled at the bottom, like silt, slowly floated to the surface.

The scent of alcohol wafted into Baili An’s nose, and the liquid quickly grew cloudy—just as she’d said, the liquor was not a rare variety.

Hard to imagine such a clean, ethereal person would drink such poor liquor.

And stored, no less, in a precious jade pot totally at odds with its contents.

Truly inexplicable her choice was.

The cold, turbid liquor went down his throat, and Baili An found that except for the strong taste of fresh blood, he could hardly discern any flavor from other substances.

He might as well treat it like water.

The jade pot wasn’t large, and between the pair’s back-and-forth drinking, they soon finished the murky liquor.

Suddenly, she loosened the black jade pendant hanging at her waist, one delicate arm resting against the edge of the well, supporting her body at a slant, while her other hand lightly played with the jade pendant, lifting it before her eyes.

The cold round moon shone through the Black Jade, reflecting a halo of pale glow.

As the light dispersed, the Divine Beast Vermilion Bird carved inside the jade by unknown techniques seemingly sprang to life, its flames like blood, slowly undulating and dancing.

“Is it beautiful?” she asked softly.

“Yes, beautiful,” Baili An quietly watched her profile and answered.

At such a time, of course, she did not ask whether the jade or she herself was the beautiful one—a tender sort of question.

Her gaze fell upon a particular spot, and she suddenly remarked, “It stinks.”

Baili An nodded in agreement, adding, “It is quite foul.”

Even as a corpse demon, devoid of the human sense of smell, he was notably sensitive to the odor of dead bodies, blood, and decay.

He pulled the Autumnwater Sword from his Qiankun Bag and, looking at her, said, “I’m going to start digging.

Would you prefer to step back a bit?”

She shook her head, telling him, “Keep digging.

I’m accustomed even to stenches from corpses far fouler than this.”

Baili An nodded and walked a distance forward before starting to dig into the visibly disturbed, loamy earth.

The Autumnwater Sword was incredibly sharp, and in no time at all, it had excavated a large hole two meters in diameter.

The dark yellow ground gradually moistened, the dampness not from water within the soil but from viscous, coagulated blood.

He continued digging.

The soil beneath had turned a deep crimson.

Baili An’s grip on the sword slackened a bit as he used the tip to gently part the soil, and his gaze from beneath his hood suddenly darkened.

Without even a glance into the pit, Yin Baishuang swirled her now-empty pot, the last residue of sediment rolling inside.

She said with an air of nonchalance, “That young girl really was pitiful.”

In the pit lay two half-bodies, one corpse with a ghastly pale complexion, its wide-open eyes speaking of an unwillingness to die, one hand terribly stretched out like a monstrous claw, skeletal and gaunt.

And that man was none other than the owner of the straw hut, the hunter greedy for the belongings of the dead.

Beside him was another body, still partially covered by the yet-to-be-dug soil.

Yet, the thick scent of decay spreading through the air was far greater than what two corpses alone might cause.

Baili An could not fathom just how many bodies might be buried beneath the ground where he stood.

Through the clothing and garb on the half-revealed corpse, one could vaguely discern it as belonging to the style of a certain Immortal Sect.

But apart from the attire, his original form was unrecognizable.

His entire body shriveled like tree bark, his facial skin deeply sunken against his skull, enough to make out the rough shape of his skull.

His abdomen was excavated, the organs cleanly removed as though eaten by some creature.

Baili An quietly observed for half a moment, his expression tranquilly shifting away as he fetched a bucket of water from the well, washing away the earth and bloodstains from the Autumnwater Sword.

Perhaps because his own heart no longer beat and the blood in his body had lost its warmth…

When Baili An looked upon death and corpses, his heart remained serene, even indifferent.

Yin Baishuang glimpsed the sword in his hand and recognized it, “That’s Miss Li’s sword from the Lihe Sect, how did it end up in your hands?

Don’t tell me, little corpse demon, you were hungry and devoured her?”

Baili An felt a jolt, then a faint blush spread across his pale cheeks, luckily concealed by his hood, escaping her notice.

Devoured was indeed what he had done, though in another sense altogether.