Ferrying the Crane

He has slain demons for ninety-nine years. Ninety-nine years. Ninety-nine demons. Never failed, never hesitated, never made an exception. Gu Du is the sharpest blade the Ninth Heaven has ever known. He stands at the center of the Demon-Slaying Platform, paved with bluestone, marked with the dark brown stains of ninety-eight demons whose blood has seeped into the rock. Around him stand four Demon-Sealing Pillars, their golden runes dim, like the eyes of the dying. Beneath the platform lies an abyss where thunder rolls up like a sigh from heaven and earth. A blade needs no feelings. A blade needs only to be sharp. That is what the Celestial Emperor said of him. Gu Du heard it, nodded, and felt nothing. He kills, and leaves. The blood is the Records Office's problem. His only duty is the blade. Then comes the ninety-ninth. The runes flare. White light rises from the cloud sea, escorted by Celestial Soldiers, and descends onto the platform. A woman. Dressed in white, barefoot, her hair falling to her waist, her features fresh as the first snow of winter falling beneath moonlight. She does not look like a demon. She looks like a fairy from a sacred mountain. Only the vermilion mark at the center of her eyebrow marks her as what she is. She does not struggle. She does not beg. She only looks at Gu Du. The moment his eyes meet hers, his heart gives a sudden, violent lurch. In ninety-nine years, no demon has ever made his heart lurch like this. He does not know what to call the feeling—so he draws his blade to make it go away. The saber is named Du'e—Calamity-Crossing—bestowed by the Emperor himself. Engraved on the blade: Du Yao Gui Tian. Cross the Demon Back to Heaven. "Demon," he says, "state your name." The woman looks at him. Her gaze is as calm as a deep pool—still,…