Shen Fu's movements as he climbed out the window weren't particularly loud. He knew Ji Yanzhi was still in the room and couldn't discover his absence, so he made his movements as light as possible.
Of course, he knew cultivators had keen senses, but after all these years of scrambling through the cultivation world, he had honed his ability to move without a sound.
Slipping out of the sleeping quarters, Shen Fu kept glancing back as he made his way toward the back mountain, not daring to even breathe too loudly.
Light snow was still falling from the sky, leaving a single lonely trail of footprints behind Shen Fu on the snow-covered ground.
What he didn't know was that two pairs of eyes were staring at him from behind.
Only after Shen Fu had gone far did Ji Yanzhi slowly sit up. He looked at the row of even footprints and instinctively wanted to follow, but ultimately held himself back.
He gazed in the direction Shen Fu had left, silently folding the blanket Shen Fu had given him, then tidied his clothes before speaking: "Isn't it tiring hiding for so long? Senior Fengyuan."
The air seemed to still for a moment, then a dark shadow flashed through the pitch-black room.
The moment Ji Yanzhi looked up, Fengyuan's blade was already pressed against his throat.
In an unnoticed corner, a wisp of black qi slipped in following Fengyuan and darted into Ji Yanzhi's sleeve. Ji Yanzhi saw it but pretended not to, merely furrowing his brow slightly.
"Why did you betray Cheng Ping? Did you have anything to do with what happened at Dongxu Sect? Why were you the only one who survived?"
Fengyuan stared down at Ji Yanzhi, barely containing the fury in his eyes.
He had warned Cheng Ping back when he first brought Ji Yanzhi back to Dongxu Sect—that the thing inside Ji Yanzhi, if not properly controlled, would bring disaster and death.
Cheng Ping hadn't taken it seriously then. Now his old friend lay decapitated, with no place even for burial. Fengyuan regretted it deeply.
If only he had been more ruthless and stopped Cheng Ping back then, perhaps he could have saved his life.
Thinking of the deceased Cheng Ping, Fengyuan's hand holding the sword trembled uncontrollably. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, but Fengyuan had no time to wipe it away.
"If Senior Fengyuan truly believed I was the one who did it, wouldn't this sword already be buried in my chest?" Ji Yanzhi's calm voice carried a hint of coldness in the dark night.
"You were there—you were there at the time! They went to kill you! With that many people, why was there not a single survivor? Why were you the only one who lived?! That kind of karmic fire isn't something Shen Fu could possibly control. Tell me—who else? Who exactly made the move?!"
Fengyuan's emotions were abnormally agitated, to the point he couldn't even control his expression. His wide-staring eyes were bloodshot, hanging on his gaunt face like a vengeful ghost crawling up from hell.
Ji Yanzhi looked at him calmly, as if looking at a soulless husk. "Why must it be a person?"
At Ji Yanzhi's words, Fengyuan, who had been in a frenzied state, immediately furrowed his brows and looked at him, his venom-laced gaze fixed firmly on him. "What did you say?"
Each word seemed to be squeezed out through clenched teeth.
Ji Yanzhi tilted his head, a mocking smile curling at the corner of his lips. "Senior Fengyuan couldn't possibly be unaware of the dirty deeds he did, could you? Do you think maybe those he killed crawled up from the earth to claim his life?"
As he spoke, Ji Yanzhi grabbed the blade with his bare hand, letting it cut into his palm. "Ah, I almost forgot—Senior Fengyuan seems to have contributed no small effort either. When you secretly killed people and dug out their spiritual roots, did you never think that one day you too would become a ghost beneath someone else's blade?"
Ji Yanzhi gripped the sword and stepped forward, closing in, his entire face hidden in the darkness, his expression impossible to read. But the murderous aura radiating from him pressed down on Fengyuan so heavily he could barely breathe.
Back when Cheng Ping had brought Ji Yanzhi back to Dongxu Sect, in order to carve out the Divine Power Legacy within Ji Yanzhi for his own use, he had sought out his close friend Fengyuan to discuss a plan.
Fengyuan was passionate about the art of soul refining, so naturally he understood the concept of the Divine Power Legacy—the highest realm of the soul-refining school was to refine and refine divine souls.
Those immortals who had been cast down as Sinful Deities for defying the Heavenly Dao would, at the brink of death, gather all their lifelong knowledge and mana into their divine souls. Upon their fall, the Divine Power Legacy would descend to the mortal world in their stead to seek a successor, waiting for the day they could return in another's body.
But as Sinful Deities, the Heavenly Dao would not permit their divine power to continue existing. Most would face Heavenly Tribulation sent to retrieve the fleeing divine power. However, if a soul refiner could find even a fragment of the Divine Power Legacy before it completely shattered, they could use it to refine and elevate their cultivation.
Unfortunately, it had been thousands of years since the last old deity fell. Not only had no new deities emerged on this continent, but no divine miracles had occurred for millennia either.
The Soul Refining Art had gradually approached extinction. To this day, those who could still refine divine souls could be counted on one hand—and Fengyuan was one of them.
He had thought this art would die with him, but who would have guessed that Cheng Ping would bring him Ji Yanzhi at just the right moment.
With a single glance, he could tell that Ji Yanzhi carried divine power within him, and his spiritual root was among the finest in the world.
If refined properly, the flesh and blood of Ji Yanzhi alone could propel Fengyuan and Cheng Ping straight to the heights of success—and with luck, even allow them to ascend directly to godhood.
Driven by such immense profit, Cheng Ping and Fengyuan began collecting spiritual roots by any means necessary—for to refine a divine soul, one first needed a vessel capable of containing it, and the spiritual roots of ordinary people made for excellent vessels.
Beyond that, they required someone possessing a Divine Spark whose will was scattered, preferably with a fractured mind, so that the divine power could be more easily excised by the soul-refiner.
The two men's plan had been proceeding smoothly, but as more and more people lost their spiritual roots, the matter drew the attention of the Immortal Alliance. To avoid suspicion, Fengyuan took the initiative to pledge his sect's allegiance to the Alliance, while Cheng Ping, unwilling to give up the prized asset that was Ji Yanzhi, refused to join under any circumstances, preferring to remain a rogue cultivator.
But soon, Fengyuan discovered that fully extracting what lay within Ji Yanzhi would require tens of thousands of spiritual roots. Not to mention that among hundreds of ordinary people, only one might possess a spiritual root—and even then, it could not be easily excised. If they truly wished to create a vessel capable of bearing divine power, they would likely have to slaughter every person on this entire continent.
Moreover, as Ji Yanzhi grew older, his mind became increasingly mature. No matter how Cheng Ping tormented him, he remained utterly unmoved, growing only more resilient with each passing day.
Fengyuan had tried many times to persuade Cheng Ping to give up, but to little effect—until a few days ago, when he received news of his old friend's death.
Though Cheng Ping was stubborn, he was also the only true friend Fengyuan had in this life, so Fengyuan was determined to uncover the mastermind behind his murder.
But at this moment, as Fengyuan gazed at the youth before him, an unprecedented chill rose from the soles of his feet, shooting straight to the crown of his head.
Before today—or rather, until this very moment—Fengyuan had never believed Ji Yanzhi possessed the ability to harm everyone in Dongxu Sect.
Yet Ji Yanzhi simply gazed at him with such calm that Fengyuan felt an inexplicable unease creep over him.
That was not the look a sixteen-year-old should possess—so composed, so ruthless, even carrying a strange venomous quality. Could a person's eyes truly change so drastically in just a few short months?
"What is Senior Fengyuan staring at me for?" Ji Yanzhi spoke coldly, cutting through Fengyuan's thoughts. He gripped the sword blade tightly, advancing step by step toward Fengyuan. "You're scaring me like this."
Fengyuan was forced to retreat step by step, yet his gaze seemed drawn by something irresistible, unable to stop itself from burrowing into Ji Yanzhi's sleeve.
In just two glances, Fengyuan was frozen in place, his pupils trembling violently as they rolled upward, looking as though his very soul were about to be sucked away.
The black aura slithered out from Ji Yanzhi's sleeve and plunged straight into Fengyuan's head.
Whatever it showed him, cold sweat began to seep from Fengyuan's forehead, all color drained from his face, and even his breathing grew rapid and shallow.
Ji Yanzhi cast a look of utter disgust at Fengyuan, gathering power in his palm to finish the man off—when he heard footsteps approaching from outside the room.
He paused, and in that moment, Fengyuan snapped fully back to his senses.
"It's… it's you! It's you!" Fengyuan shoved Ji Yanzhi away. Like a man waking from a nightmare, his hands trembled uncontrollably, his legs giving out entirely—had he not been gripping his sword, he might have collapsed to his knees.
"What is Senior Fengyuan talking about? This junior doesn't understand. But could you please take your sword away first? It hurts so much."
As Ji Yanzhi spoke, his fingertip twitched slightly. Fengyuan, already on edge, thrust his sword forward without a second thought.
With a wet thunk, Ji Yanzhi didn't dodge at all. He stood straight and still, letting the blade slice across his neck.
The next second.
A flash of cold light—a snow-white blade inserted from the side, savagely shattering Fengyuan's sword.
The blade forged from thousand-year mystic iron instantly burst into powder. Cold wind carrying snow blew into the room as Shen Fu stood tall, robes fluttering, his fingers twirling once before tucking the blade behind his back.
Fengyuan retreated half a step, his brows knitting in disbelief. There hadn't been the slightest fluctuation of mana in the vicinity—had Shen Fu truly shattered his sword with nothing but sheer physical strength?
Just who in the world was he?!
While Fengyuan was still reeling in confusion, Ji Yanzhi broke free from his side. Pressing one hand against the blood gushing from his neck, his body went limp and he collapsed straight into Shen Fu's arms, his eyelids drooping pitifully as he squeezed out a pool of tears.
"Master…"