Pei Zizhuo could not remember how long it had been since he had slept this soundly. This night had been free of nightmare invasions and the agonizing pain of broken bones; there was only that lingering, wispy fragrance surrounding him, calming his mind and lulling him into a deep slumber.
It was not until the red sun rose in the east and the pale morning light spilled across the bed that he opened his eyes.
He was alone on the bed. The small cottage was quiet, without a sound, and he had no idea where Danxiao had gone.
As usual, he braced his body to push himself up. He moved his spine, but it did not bring the anticipated agony.
Slightly stunned, he raised both arms and gently twisted his upper body. He could no longer feel the pain; nearly a third of his meridians and bones had opened up. This sensation, both familiar and foreign, filled Pei Zizhuo with overwhelming joy.
So that medicine truly was effective.
Leaning against the headboard, feeling a mixture of joy and apprehension, Pei Zizhuo wondered to himself: Could Danxiao be planning to heal my immortal bones first, only to use other methods to trap me later?
That would be far too foolish.
Having slept beside him through the night, Pei Zizhuo’s body was steeped in the scent of snow lotus. The fragrance lingered without dispersing, as though the person were still by his side. He could not help but recall the sight of the figure in his arms from yesterday, face burning with bashfulness, yet burrowing into the quilt with all his might.
He shuddered, deciding he must still be half-asleep. As his peripheral vision swept across the side of the pillow, he froze slightly: a white sachet was lying right there.
Raising an eyebrow, Pei Zizhuo picked up the sachet and examined it closely. He had assumed it was merely plain silk brocade, but to his surprise, a pair of mandarin ducks was embroidered upon it.
The embroidery was exquisite, with fine, tight stitches of silver thread. The feathers of the mandarin ducks were smooth and sleek, rendered truly lifelike.
However, the silk sachet was somewhat old; it looked as though it had been worn for many years.
Cultivators rarely kept mundane objects by their side; whoever had gifted this sachet must be of great importance to Danxiao.
Yet, embroidering mandarin ducks on white cloth, is this meant as a blessing, or a curse?
Pei Zizhuo curled his lip in utter bewilderment and, losing interest, moved to place it back where it belonged.
With a loud clatter, the wooden door was abruptly pulled open. Pei Zizhuo’s hand trembled, sending the sachet tumbling to the floor, looking for all the world as though he had deliberately cast it aside.
The sachet rolled once across the floor, coming to a stop right at Shen Shu’s feet.
Holding an armful of wild fruit, Shen Shu lowered his head to stare at his feet, speaking in a muffled, sullen voice, “So, you don’t like this scent after all.”
His handsome brows and eyes instantly drooped, his expression forlorn and pitiful.
Pei Zizhuo was taken aback. Though he thought to himself that it was merely an old sachet, he glanced at Danxiao, mustered what little conscience he had, and made up an excuse: “My back was sore, so I couldn’t hold onto it.”
The moment he heard mention of pain, Shen Shu looked up at once. “Is it still hurting?”
The Bone-Knitting Salve and Primordial Yin Pill were divine medicines of the Heavenly Realm. Their healing effects should have been remarkable; how could his immortal bones still not be set?
Shen Shu set the fruit down, strode quickly to Pei Zizhuo’s bedside, and brought out the Bone-Knitting Salve. “Let me apply some more for you. It won’t do for it to keep hurting.”
Pei Zizhuo looked at Shen Shu and said flatly, “I’m used to it; it’s not that unbearable. However, showing such concern might give me the wrong idea.”
“The wrong idea about what?”
“The wrong idea about whether you harbor ulterior motives.” Pei Zizhuo’s gaze was sharp as lightning, scrutinizing Shen Shu intently, determined to see right through him.
Ulterior motives? Shen Shu blinked in confusion. He recalled the bloodstained purple robe he had thrown out this morning when leaving the cottage; it had seemed like a rather expensive piece of defensive gear. Could Pei Zizhuo think he had coveted the garment for himself? No wonder he had thrown his sachet to vent his anger.
Yet that robe had truly been shredded beyond repair. Shen Shu furrowed his brows and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”
Regardless, it was indeed his fault.
Pei Zizhuo had not expected him to confess so readily. Taken aback, he asked, “What are you sorry for?”
Shen Shu bit his lower lip. “I should have let you know beforehand; I shouldn’t have taken it upon myself to throw away your soiled clothes.”
Pei Zizhuo: “…”
Shen Shu nodded.
“If it’s gone, it’s gone,” Pei Zizhuo replied, stripping off his upper garment in slight irritation. “Apply the medicine.”
As he applied the ointment this time, Shen Shu could clearly sense that most of the meridians along his spine had reconnected. He estimated that once this session ended, Pei Zizhuo could attempt to get out of bed and move around.
Logically speaking, the immortal bones should no longer be aching. Shen Shu guessed that his constitution was likely too yin-cold, causing the recovery to be slow.
He raised his hand to channel a few extra measures of immortal energy, massaging him for an extra quarter of an hour before saying with relief, “Once you take another Primordial Yin Pill, your meridians will be fully repaired, and you’ll be able to walk around. Mount Lebai might not have any scenery worth admiring, but you can just treat it as training your waist.”
Training his waist? Pei Zizhuo propped his head up, leaning halfway against the bed, and arched a brow. “You certainly know how to care for people.”
Carrying the freshly picked fruit over, Shen Shu did not catch the underlying meaning and earnestly comforted him, “Once your immortal bones are fully healed this time, you will definitely be bursting with energy, even better than before.”
Pei Zizhuo: “…”
“These are Deer Whip Fruits I picked specially for you. They strengthen the physique, nourish the kidneys, and tonify the yang.”
Pei Zizhuo: “…”
Beneath Shen Shu’s relentless, multifaceted sales pitch, Pei Zizhuo remained unyielding as stone, resolutely declaring that he had no need for anything that boosted yang, and declined any further fussing over the well-being of his lower half.
Shen Shu sighed with regret, handing the sachet and the Primordial Yin Pill over to Pei Zizhuo together, reminding him not to forget to take it at noon.
“Where are you going?” Pei Zizhuo looked at Shen Shu and asked.
To continue excavating Danxiao’s underground palace, naturally.
Shen Shu rubbed his nose. He had originally thought of leaving another paper avatar behind, but that felt too much like spying on Pei Zizhuo.
It was better to attach a wisp of his divine sense to the sachet; that way, he would sense the slightest disturbance.
“I have some magical artifacts piled up in the back mountain where a lot of clutter is kept. I need to rummage through them for a while,” Shen Shu said. Still uneasy, he turned back to add, “Don’t be afraid. I’ll come back early today.”
Pei Zizhuo: “…”
The morning sun was glaring, beating down upon the yellow earth with an even fiercer heat. The Taiyin Bipolar Fate-Reversing Talisman had already been destroyed, yet the spiritual veins within these mountains still showed no signs of recovery.
Shen Shu chiseled open the crack in the stone slab once more, brought out a fire talisman to ignite it, and leaped down into the underground palace.
This place had not seen sunlight for years. The moment his feet touched the ground, he felt as though he had plunged into an icy cavern; a sinister chill seeped deep into his bones, and the fire talisman was extinguished in an instant by the freezing air.
Inside the hollow underground palace, aside from the single ray of light filtering through the crack overhead, the surroundings were deathly still and disorientingly pitch-black, as though the darkness itself could swallow a person whole.
Shen Shu had no choice but to ignite a yellow streamer banner once more, holding it before his eyes to light the way like a lantern.
This underground palace had been constructed crudely; the passageways for walking were formed merely by carving out two giant boulders to prop them up. The corridor was wide yet uneven, looking as though it had been clawed open by hand.
Both the front and rear paths led straight ahead, yet both were bottomless, obscuring where they might lead. Having never studied divination or deduction, Shen Shu could only rely on his intuition and chose the left path. He pulled out a piece of fluorite and carved a mark into the stone wall, ensuring he would have a marker to find his way back.
This path was truly built in an infuriating fashion. Not only did the width of the corridor vary unpredictably, but the stones underfoot also rose and fell erratically. One had to be exceedingly careful, terrified that a single lapse in attention would result in a misstep.
Shen Shu ducked and weaved about in somewhat disheveled shape, silently cursing: Was this path even built for the living?
After walking for who knew how long, the corridor finally returned to normal. The piles of rubble gave way to bluestone slabs, and even the walls were carved with hollowed floral patterns; a few paces had made all the difference between heaven and earth.
Right in front of him stood a small door, also engraved with talismans. Shen Shu grew cautious, raising the streamer banner to lean in for a closer look. He had thought it would be something as vicious as the Taiyin Bipolar Fate-Reversing Talisman, yet it turned out to be merely a Demon-Attracting Talisman.
Attracting demons? Shen Shu could not help but think of that primordial chaotic energy. Did Danxiao siphon the spiritual energy of heaven and earth into this underground palace just to nourish this ancient malevolent aura?
Shen Shu ignited true fire and reached out to lightly touch the door. Before he could even cast his spell, the door opened with a soft creak.
The cinnabar ink on the talisman was dull and lusterless, having long lost its potency.
Shen Shu could not help but knit his brows. A talisman losing its power meant that the caster had met with misfortune. Yet yesterday, the Taiyin Bipolar Fate-Reversing Talisman had still been functional; could Danxiao have perished just today?
He shoved the stone door open and stepped inside.
In the center of the chamber stood a bronze alchemy furnace, over a person tall and a zhang wide, taking up nearly the entire room. Hanging densely across the walls were ancient tomes, numbering nearly a thousand.
Shen Shu clicked his tongue in awe for a moment before suddenly remembering that he was supposed to be disguising himself as an alchemist. Yet his small cottage was completely bare, without even half a pinch of cinnabar to be found.
What a massive oversight. Fortunately, Pei Zizhuo’s mobility was impaired, limiting his view to that tiny patch of space; otherwise, he would have seen through the deception for sure.
He bypassed the alchemy furnace. Further inside lay the elixir pavilion, which typically stored immortal pills, miraculous medicines, and precious raw ingredients, essentially Danxiao’s treasure vault.
There was no need to covet a dead man’s earthly possessions. Shen Shu merely picked up two ancient tomes from the floor to take back and keep up appearances. Yet the All-Affairs Ribbon tucked within his sleeve suddenly poked its head out, tugging him toward the elixir pavilion.
This All-Affairs Ribbon had originally been a white silk strip used by underworld reapers to bind souls. By chance, it had been stained with immortal blood, gaining spiritual sentience, whereupon it fled the underworld to wreak havoc in the mortal realm.
Unfortunately, the All-Affairs Ribbon possessed far too high an ambition: the very first person it targeted was Shen Shu, the closed-door disciple of the Sifang Pavilion.
In the dead of night, the All-Affairs Ribbon had quietly slipped into his room, emboldened by ghostly energy to strangle him.
Back then, it was also Shen Shu’s first time descending the mountain to campaign against the Myriad Demon Cave alongside various sects. Though a sword cultivator, he had the delicate appearance of a lotus emerging from water; even the hands holding his sword were fair and tender.
Placed among a pack of ironclad brutes, he was the most conspicuous of all, naturally treated as a useless, fragile ornament and shielded deep within the ranks. For three whole days, let alone slaying demons, he had not encountered a single monster, leaving him sulking in frustration for quite some time.
Upon seeing the ghostly, sinister All-Affairs Ribbon, Shen Shu’s eyes had lit up instantly. Shaking open his Exquisite Treasure Pouch, he hurled out the Demon-Subduing Cauldron, the Soul-Suppressing Banner, and the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches Fiend-Taming Bowl. Just as he was about to draw forth his Zelan Sword, the white ribbon had already collapsed limp onto the ground, utterly motionless.
Shen Shu was still young at the time, with limited worldly experience. Seeing how peculiar the white ribbon looked, he had assumed he had caught some rare treasure and took it to show off to his senior martial brothers.
In the end, he was told that it was merely an evil apparition tainted with spiritual energy, not even qualifying as a spirit beast.
To say he was not disappointed would be a lie, yet Shen Shu still claimed it for his own use, naming it the All-Affairs Ribbon, a play on words meaning everything works smoothly, hoping that this white ribbon would balance hardness with softness, bringing success in all endeavors.
Having bound wandering souls in the underworld for centuries, the All-Affairs Ribbon was exceptionally sensitive to human souls. Shen Shu harbored no doubts; following its lead into the elixir pavilion, he tapped lightly on the stone door.
The instant he broke through the door, the All-Affairs Ribbon sensed the presence of scattered souls and burst forth from his sleeve. The white ribbon, several zhang long, darted up and down inside the elixir pavilion in pursuit of the invisible remnant soul. In the blink of an eye, it coiled around the soul fragments and returned to Shen Shu’s side.
Without a doubt, for a scattered soul to hide inside an alchemist’s elixir pavilion, it had to belong to Danxiao himself.
What had he encountered to have his soul and spirit entirely eradicated within a single day?
Shen Shu had brought no magical treasures for capturing souls, so he had to place it temporarily inside his Universe Pouch. Raising the yellow banner to illuminate the elixir pavilion, he scanned his surroundings. He saw no precious treasures or ingredients; the dozen or so brocade boxes inside were already covered in dust, appearing decrepit and ruined, looking as though they had been abandoned for decades.
Looking upward, he caught sight of an inverted bronze cauldron suspended from the ceiling, reflecting a glint of azure light beneath the banner’s flame.
Shen Shu leaped upward, landing upon a high shelf to inspect the bronze cauldron closely.
The cauldron seemed to possess considerable age, its surface bearing remnants of blue-green patina. Inscribed upon it in small seal script were the words: Heaven-Ascending Qi-Gathering Treasure Cauldron.
The Heaven-Ascending Qi-Gathering Treasure Cauldron? Was this not an artifact from the Heavenly Pool used to gather yang and disperse yin? How could a treasure of the Heavenly Realm appear here?
All of this was far too bizarre; he faintly sensed that matters were not so simple.
Shen Shu rested his hand against the treasure cauldron. Calming his mind, he could detect an extremely faint fluctuation of spiritual energy, as though it were siphoning the trace amounts of spiritual energy from the surface above.
This cauldron was most likely used in conjunction with the Taiyin Bipolar Fate-Reversing Talisman. The talisman was gone, but the cauldron remained; the spiritual energy of Mount Lebai was still being drained underground.
It seemed this cauldron could not be left behind either. He released his divine sense to probe around the cauldron, yet failed completely to find any mechanism securing it. It was not until his hand touched the feet of the cauldron where they met the ceiling that he discovered with shock: this cauldron had actually been cast in place using molten iron.
In that case, the only way to remove the cauldron was to destroy it by force. Such a sacred relic was rare in the mortal realm; any sect would treasure it as a family heirloom. Just how reckless had Danxiao been, or how greedy for the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, to fasten this treasure cauldron upside-down so stubbornly here?
With no other choice left, Shen Shu channeled his immortal power into the cauldron. As the surging immortal magic rippled forth, just as he was about to shatter it from within, the mountain suddenly began to shake violently!
In an instant, several long fissures tore open across the stone ceiling. Giant boulders rolled down amidst clouds of flying sand, raining straight down toward Shen Shu. Thick black smoke billowed forth, extinguishing the yellow banner in a flash.
The sand was too fine, torturing his eyes as it blew in. Distracted for a moment, Shen Shu completely failed to notice that the treasure cauldron above him was about to collapse entirely!
That was a sacred relic weighing thousands of catties; a strike from that would pound even an immortal into meat paste.
By the time Shen Shu snapped back to his senses, that colossal cauldron was already falling alongside the boulders. It was a matter of life and death.
Suddenly, Shen Shu’s ankle tightened. Someone yanked him outward with immense force, tripping his left foot over his right until his legs nearly twisted like fried dough. His center of gravity shifted, and he rolled across the ground through the black smoke, narrowly evading the massive object.
The shaking and collapse dragged on for nearly a quarter of an hour before finally settling down; more than half the room had caved in. Amidst this wreckage, a figure stood tall and straight, walking leisurely out of the billowing black smoke. Standing before Shen Shu with hands clasped behind his back, he declared in a clear, unrestrained voice:
“No need to thank me.”