Shuimang Cave
Tense with nerves, Shen Shu thought over what the shuimang ghost had just said.
The man-faced ghost had said Wen Zhuo had killed many shuimang ghosts, and that was how their grudge began.
But from what Shen Shu knew, most of those forced to become ghosts by eating shuimang grass would actually beg cultivators to kill them, so their souls could finally be at peace.
So Wen Zhuo had, in a way, done them a good turn by killing them.
It was just that they still had human bodies, and killing them incurred karmic sin. Most cultivators pursuing ascension and trying to accumulate merit wouldn’t go near them.
But if Wen Zhuo needed to accumulate enough merit to ascend to the upper realm, why would he do something so strenuous and thankless, something that cost him merit?
Was it truly out of kindness, or…
Did he not want to ascend?
Before Shen Shu could think much longer, Hanguang Sword responded to Wen Zhuo’s hand seal and swiftly pulled free of the crack in the ground, flying to his side.
After several twists and turns, the two of them finally managed to steady themselves on the sword.
Shen Shu glanced down and asked, “Daoist, how deep do you think it is down there?”
“Shuimang Cave is about a hundred zhang deep,” Wen Zhuo replied.
“That’s so high,” Shen Shu said anxiously. “If I fell, would you have time to catch me?”
Standing in front of Shen Shu, Wen Zhuo generously told him, “The cliffs are steep, and sword flight is unsteady. You can hold on to me.”
“I was joking, Daoist.” Shen Shu politely turned him down. “I can stand just fine.”
He’d rather lie flat on the sword than have any more physical contact. It was just too awkward.
He really couldn’t understand why some people were so fond of intimate things like hugging and kissing. If someone kissed him, he’d have to wash his mouth for ten years.
Wen Zhuo wasn’t the least bit angry at Shen Shu’s coy refusal.
He smiled warmly and nodded. “All right.”
Then he changed his hand seal, and the sword tipped straight downward.
Shen Shu: “…”
In the end, Shen Shu clung to Wen Zhuo as they plummeted straight down from a hundred zhang up, wailing apologies the whole way.
Hanguang Sword came to a stop above a thin layer of water on the ground, sending a small ring of ripples across it. When Shen Shu stepped down, his legs were still a little weak, so he had to steady himself by holding on to Wen Zhuo.
He wiped away his cold sweat and shot Wen Zhuo a resentful look. The man still had that same gentle, smiling expression, and Shen Shu couldn’t tell what he found so amusing.
Enough. What an idiot!
Was the reason he hadn’t ascended that he was just too wicked?
Shen Shu sighed. A faint, ghostly light gleamed in his eyes as he looked around.
The bottom of the gloomy cave was pitch-black, with faint wailing in the distance and a heavy, damp, musty stench in the air. Water plants and branches had been woven into objects scattered everywhere, making the place look almost like a little palace.
Not far away, a human-shaped figure crouched on the ground, its eyes gleaming like torches as it watched him warily.
Shen Shu edged closer to Wen Zhuo and whispered, “How did a ghost’s lair end up looking so cozy?”
Wen Zhuo smiled. “Perhaps it misses being human.”
Remembering what the shuimang ghost had suggested earlier, Shen Shu secretly curled his fingers.
The fruit knife embedded in the cliff wall trembled, then was pulled free by an invisible force. It flipped through the air and landed in Shen Shu’s palm.
This time, he didn’t put it away. He tucked it discreetly at his waist.
Now that he was sure he’d transmigrated, he needed to make plans for what came next.
If he escaped Chishui Forest, would he really be safe?
No household registration, no friends, no land, no money. There was a famine outside, and he wouldn’t even get any relief grain. In less than a month, he’d be a frozen corpse.
If he wanted to survive, he’d have to rely on someone. Wen Zhuo right in front of him was a good candidate.
Shen Shu thought of what the man-faced ghost had told him.
The fox charm…
If he really had learned the fox charm by accident, could he use it to bewitch Wen Zhuo into taking him in?
But the fox charm wouldn’t last forever! He couldn’t spend day and night crying in front of Wen Zhuo, begging him to take him as a disciple, could he?
He’d have to give Wen Zhuo a reason he couldn’t refuse to take him in.
In the darkness, figures stirred at the sound of their voices. More and more eyes began to glow, pressing in on them.
The one in front groped along the ground, crawling out like an eight-legged spider. At that distance, Shen Shu finally got a clear look at it.
It was human-shaped, with a human face. Water plants were wrapped around it from head to toe like bandages, leaving only one eye visible, its white tinged with blue. Thin, wrinkled skin stretched over its stark bones, making it look like a sickly green mummy.
Shen Shu had seen ghosts in the modern world, but he’d never seen one this hideously emaciated, nothing but skin and bones. Never.
He frowned. “Do people just grow any old way in the dark? This is terrifying.”
The leading shuimang ghost fixed him with a frosty stare, stepped forward, and said with a smile,
“Grandmaster Wen, is this your new disciple? How about I break his arms and legs to pay you back for the blood debt you owe me?”
Quite the hostile atmosphere…
Shen Shu thought to himself.
So he tugged at Wen Zhuo’s sleeve and put on a pitiful voice. “Daoist, I’m scared.”
Wen Zhuo had been smiling, but at those words, his expression turned cold.
His voice was like ice water, all warmth gone, as he pointed his sword at the shuimang ghost’s brow.
“Chen Can, I won’t spare your life again today.”
At the same time, more shuimang ghosts crawled out of the darkness. Only then did Shen Shu realize that they came in all sizes, and some were even children. They too were wrapped in damp water plants, with only a blue-white eye showing.
Uneasy, muddled voices rose all around them.
The shuimang ghosts pressed closer and closer, their low moans rising and falling as they shambled toward them like a horde of the living dead.
At the eerie sight, Shen Shu couldn’t help taking a step back. He wanted to tug Wen Zhuo along with him, but Wen Zhuo stood firmly in place, Hanguang Sword crackling with golden sparks in his hand.
One of the shuimang ghosts had a soft, childish voice. It tugged at Wen Zhuo’s hem and pleaded, “Grandmaster Wen, please don’t kill me…”
Before it could finish, Wen Zhuo raised his sword and brought it down. The blade cut through the little ghost’s throat in an instant, and its head tipped backward before dropping to the ground with a thud.
Blood gushed out in a jet.
Before the blood had even cooled, Wen Zhuo raised a hand and sent Hanguang Sword into motion. A streak of golden light, swift as lightning and threading its way like a needle through cloth, darted among the shuimang ghosts, lopping off their heads one after another.
Not a trace of pity showed on Wen Zhuo’s face, as if he were snapping a few branches.
Watching this, Shen Shu felt a chill creep from the soles of his feet to his scalp. His neck grew cold, as if a vicious ghost were sighing right beside it.
Shen Shu rubbed the back of his neck, then slapped the man-faced ghost behind him.
“Why are you blowing on my neck?”
The man-faced ghost had somehow rebuilt its body and crept up behind Shen Shu. A bright red handprint showed on its face, and it yelped,
“You… you’re not afraid? Wen Zhuo killed every last one of them. Why aren’t you running?”
Shen Shu gave a scornful laugh. “You idiot. Your leader just said he was going to break my arms and legs. I should be thanking Wen Zhuo for killing them.”
“But you…” Shen Shu narrowed his eyes and slowly closed in on the man-faced ghost. “Did you deliberately kidnap me? And then deliberately make Wen Zhuo come rescue me?”
“I didn’t, I didn’t…”
Before the man-faced ghost could finish, Shen Shu kicked it against the wall and planted his foot on half its face.
Then he whipped out the fruit knife with a sharp shing, twirled it once in his palm, and thrust the tip toward the ghost’s eye, stopping just inches from its eyeball.
His eyes were full of menace, but his face wore a radiant, adorable smile.
“Tell me, which ghost set up the miasma in Chishui Forest?”
The creature was already a coward. Under Shen Shu’s threat, it went limp as a puddle of mud.
“It was my brother. The miasma is powered by my brother Chen Can’s magic. He’s the only one who ever practiced the Dao. I’m mortal, I can’t do magic!”
“Chen Can?” Shen Shu gripped the knife handle and repeated, “The one who just threatened me?”
“Yes, yes, that’s him!”
By then, Wen Zhuo had cleared out all the shuimang ghosts in the cave, leaving only Chen Can to face him in close combat.
“Wen Yunzhou, how much longer are you going to torment me?” Chen Can roared at Wen Zhuo. “You killed them all, my family, everyone who’s been with me for the past hundred years. May you die a miserable death!”
“They weren’t your family,” Wen Zhuo said coldly. “That was all in your own mind.”
“All in my own mind? How dare you say that?”
Chen Can laughed twice, then said viciously, “Haven’t you also spent a hundred years waiting here in Chishui Forest on a one-sided delusion of your own? So, have you found that person you love?”
At that, Wen Zhuo glanced at Shen Shu and answered calmly,
“I have.”
There was even a hint of smugness in it.