The words Liu Ziyi had just spoken ripped open Shen Zhuoqing’s disguise. The demonic energy he had been struggling to suppress once more surged upward from his dantian, and the sudden loss of control caused him to double over in a fit of heavy, hacking coughs, clutching his mouth and nose.
Following the backlash of forced suppression, blood gushed like a stream from the corners of his lips.
Shen Zhuoqing had not expected his body to be eroded to such an extent; this single moment alone robbed him of the strength to speak.
Seeing Shen Zhuoqing react with such intensity, Liu Ziyi was startled at first, but then he sat up and hurriedly supported Shen Zhuoqing. The sharpness on his face vanished, replaced by a sense of helplessness.
What was that just now?
Demonic energy, even though it vanished from before his eyes in an instant, Liu Ziyi was certain of it.
After all, this was a senior brother he had spent eight years with. Fearing that the situation might spiral out of control, he used his still-uninjured left hand to support Shen Zhuoqing’s trembling frame as he knelt beside the bed, attempting to channel spiritual energy to protect Shen Zhuoqing’s body. Yet no matter how hard he tried, his wielding hand was ultimately affected by the wound, and coupled with the weak inner strength from just waking up, the results were negligible.
Seeing this, Liu Ziyi abandoned futile channeling. Instead, he braced Shen Zhuoqing’s shoulders, lowered his head, and pressed for answers:
“Senior Brother, what is going on here? What on earth happened?”
“Are you alright?”
As soon as the question left his lips, Liu Ziyi met Shen Zhuoqing’s eyes. Those slender brows and eyes lacked their usual pristine, frosty clarity; the pent-up demonic energy spilled uncontrollably from his gaze, gradually clouding those deep black pupils and robbing them of their lucidity.
Hearing Liu Ziyi’s slightly worried tone, Shen Zhuoqing braced his body to fight against the inner demon within him. Ignoring the rustling whispers echoing by his ears, he simply shook his head gently at Liu Ziyi and said:
“I am fine.”
“Senior Brother?”
“Xiao-Liu, do not worry, it is merely a slight indisposition.”
As he spoke, Shen Zhuoqing seemed unable to tell whether the chaotic sounds ringing in his ears were real or not. Choosing once again to forcefully suppress his inner demon would only cause the backlash to strike him even harder; amidst his blurring vision, intense pain wracked his entire body.
Seeing that he could extract no answers, Liu Ziyi pressed his lips together in silence. Instead, he raised his sleeve to wipe away the blood welling up at the corners of Shen Zhuoqing’s mouth once more, used his left hand to part the hair at the back of Shen Zhuoqing’s neck, and pressed two fingers against the acupoint on his cervical vertebrae.
While softly chanting the Heart-Clearing Incantation by his ear, Liu Ziyi channeled a faint thread of spiritual energy into him.
As soon as the spiritual energy entered, it encountered unprecedented repulsion, but after a brief wave of pressure, Shen Zhuoqing’s meridians opened up entirely to him, allowing Liu Ziyi’s spiritual energy to cleanse his limbs and bones, driving all the inner demons provoked by Liu Ziyi back down.
As the inner demon weakened, Shen Zhuoqing’s thoughts gradually returned. He likely realized that the inner demon he needed to struggle so hard to suppress was as easy to handle as a superficial wound in front of Liu Ziyi, and even the weak spiritual energy of a sick body was enough to keep it at bay.
The bell must be unstrung by the one who tied it; the root of his inner demon had been planted the very first time Liu Ziyi died.
Feeling that the other’s meridians were no longer congested, Liu Ziyi withdrew his hand.
Naturally, he had not merely been suppressing the demon for him just then; he had also taken a clear look at Shen Zhuoqing’s physical condition. Because of the erosion by the inner demon, more than half of Shen Zhuoqing’s dantian was damaged, and the spiritual platform that ought to have been as pure as a bright pearl was also tainted with black demonic energy.
This was actually Shen Zhuoqing, his senior brother who was hailed across the righteous path as the benchmark of purity, the Bright Moon.
Zhuoqing, Zhuoqing, what trace of purity was left in him now?
Liu Ziyi’s withdrawn hand clenched tight, his throat choking up with an indescribable emotion.
He thought, no wonder he hadn’t been pressuring him to cultivate lately; it turned out he had contracted an inner demon himself and could no longer serve as a role model for the junior brothers and sisters!
The Shen Zhuoqing before him had already recovered as usual, yet he merely kept his brows lowered, avoiding eye contact.
After a brief silence, both of them spoke at the same time.
Liu Ziyi: “Does Master know about this?”
Shen Zhuoqing: “Do not tell Master.”
Even though Liu Ziyi wandered the mortal realm and never meddled in other people’s business, he couldn’t help but choke for a moment at Shen Zhuoqing’s words. He could finally empathize with that nagging feeling Shen Zhuoqing used to have when lecturing him, though at least he had never committed a mistake of this magnitude.
An inner demon born of unknown origin, yet he refused to confide in even himself or Master.
“Why?” Liu Ziyi asked him. “Who did this?”
In Liu Ziyi’s impression, Shen Zhuoqing showed no signs of straying onto a deviant path, whether in friendships, romance, or cultivation. Aside from the work of a demonic cultivator, what else could this inner demon be?
Yet Shen Zhuoqing did not provide the answer Liu Ziyi wanted; he simply remained silent.
Silence was the final bottom line of a vow.
“Can you not tell me, Senior Brother?”
Shen Zhuoqing was still kneeling on the floor beside the bed, his desolate shadow unable to catch a single ray of light: “I am sorry, Xiao-Liu.”
“This matter, I do not wish to bring it up. Let us not ask about it anymore, alright?”
No matter how it was brought up, it would feel like a baseless lament.
After all, the one who died had never been him.
And precisely because he had survived alone until the very end, he had witnessed all the cruelty. He had no desire whatsoever to tell Liu Ziyi the cause of his inner demon.
That was a future far too heavy for Liu Ziyi, at least before all of that transpired, he wanted to continue gazing upon Liu Ziyi’s vibrant and radiant appearance a little longer.
With that, Shen Zhuoqing finally rose slowly to his feet.
Averting his gaze from Liu Ziyi’s burning stare on the bed, he simply used a spell to clean away every trace of his own blood from Liu Ziyi’s sleeves, then spoke to Liu Ziyi in a muffled, hoarse voice:
“You know you have been unconscious for about three days. Tomorrow is the martial tournament, so rest well.”
Liu Ziyi fell silent for a moment, noncommittal toward Shen Zhuoqing’s tactic of changing the subject. In the end, however, he gave a brief response to cut him off, retorting stubbornly:
“I know. Now that I am awake, Senior Brother need not stand guard in my room day and night.”
The words carried a certain alienation. Sensing his displeasure, Shen Zhuoqing sluggishly withdrew his hands and hid them in his sleeves, acknowledging the instruction in a low voice before turning to leave and disturbing him no further.
Watching Shen Zhuoqing’s departing figure, Liu Ziyi’s sense of vexation deepened a layer.
Realizing it belatedly, Liu Ziyi cradled his right hand and fell into deep thought while the web of his thumb still throbbed faintly.
When he questioned him earlier, he had clearly lied, deceiving him and brushing him off, yet choosing deliberately to evade the truth.
Just what was Shen Zhuoqing hiding from him? How did he know he would run into danger in the back mountain, and how had he so precisely found the antidote?
Before jumping to any conclusions, Liu Ziyi needed to go question Shen Qing.
Throwing on an outer robe, Liu Ziyi quietly slipped out of Qixue Residence. Naturally, he knew he couldn’t evade Shen Zhuoqing’s eyes, but right now Shen Zhuoqing’s demonic energy was not fully suppressed, so he absolutely wouldn’t dare show himself before Master.
And Liu Ziyi successfully arrived outside Shen Qing’s courtyard.
There were no guards, and the protective array was of the sort open to them. Liu Ziyi made his way straight from the hall entrance to the outside of Shen Qing’s bedchamber. Before he even had a chance to knock, a familiar voice sounded from behind him.
“Mingxiu?”
Liu Ziyi turned around. Standing behind him was none other than Shen Qing.
“When did you wake up, running around in such a flurry?”
“Master,” Liu Ziyi didn’t offer a lengthy explanation. The moment he finished calling out, he stepped forward immediately, raised his right hand, and asked Shen Qing:
“What kind of poison was my wound? Are the medicinal herbs used to treat it found in the back mountain?”
Shen Qing was taken aback by him. Hearing the question, he simply assumed Liu Ziyi was preoccupied with his cultivation, so he comforted him:
“You were slashed by a Thousand-Fathom poisonous herb, which tore the tendons in the web of your thumb. The antidote for it requires command-fruit and pupil-grass to refine. If Lingji hadn’t happened to go with you and harvested those two herbs from the back mountain, I’m afraid.”
Shen Qing didn’t finish, merely reaching out to pat Liu Ziyi’s shoulder.
“Fortunately, everything is still in time. As long as you recuperate properly over these next few days, no lingering ailments will remain.”
Liu Ziyi couldn’t take in the latter half of those words, his head buzzing as he demanded:
“How could Senior Brother harvest those two herbs? Aren’t they grown in completely different places? And how did Senior Brother know the prescription for the Thousand-Fathom poisonous herb?”
With so many questions, Liu Ziyi abruptly caught Shen Qing off guard.
He furrowed his brows and shook his head: “As for the reason, Master doesn’t understand either.”
“What is the matter? Has Mingxiu discovered something?”
Liu Ziyi snapped back to his senses.
He fell silent for a moment, then shook his head at Shen Qing: “It’s nothing, just felt it was quite a coincidence.”
With that, he conjured up a smile to dispel Shen Qing’s doubts, “Perhaps my luck is just very good.”
Shen Qing didn’t dwell on Liu Ziyi’s questions any further, curving his brows as well: “Indeed, Mingxiu has always been a child deeply blessed with fortune.”
“At the time, we had no idea who saved you in the back mountain; your Uncle Fuai Ye and I searched for days without getting any news. Does Mingxiu still remember his appearance?”
“I didn’t see his face, I only knew he used a sword. Dressed all in white, a bit hard to make out, almost like a shadow,” Liu Ziyi recalled.
In his impression, that figure wasn’t as solid as an ordinary cultivator’s; it looked more like a soul on the verge of shattering.
“A shadow? Could it be the lingering souls left behind by the ancestors of our Fuajian Sect?” Shen Qing mused aloud, “That’s entirely possible. If Mingxiu remembers his appearance, you could still go and offer your respects.”
Liu Ziyi smiled: “It doesn’t matter, once I’m better I’ll go pay my respects to all the ancestors properly!”
With that, the sound of the bell-ringing that had accompanied the ringing in his ears at that moment suddenly chimed in Liu Ziyi’s mind. Pausing mid-sentence, he turned back to Shen Qing and said: “I remember now, Master! Just as I was about to pass out, I heard a bell ringing from that ancestor’s sword, one strike for every single movement. Has any of our ancestors ever hung a sword tassel with a bell?”
It was quite unique; speaking of which, Junior Uncle Fuai Ye often used a red cord and a bell as a hair tie, except that Junior Uncle’s bell never rang.
Just as Liu Ziyi was thinking this, he felt the breathing of Shen Qing before him stall.
“?”
Then he was grabbed by both shoulders.
“A bell… Mingxiu, are you certain? The cultivator who saved you used a sword, and the bell rang as he struck?”
Liu Ziyi was somewhat surprised. Startled by Shen Qing’s agitated expression, he instinctively paused to recall carefully.
Then he confirmed: “That’s right, Master. It was indeed a bell ringing. Do you know which ancestor it was?”
Noticing that Shen Qing’s complexion had turned almost as white as his own cascade of white hair, Liu Ziyi couldn’t help feeling a bit worried.
Could it be that it wasn’t one of our family’s swordsman ancestors?
However, Liu Ziyi watched as his master, displaying a rare loss of composure, stared fixedly right into his eyes, those eyes flushing and moistened the moment he opened his mouth:
“One strike for every ring, the refined gentleman of swords… Eighteen years ago, known to all.”
“That was precisely your Junior Uncle, Ji Qingru’s swordsmanship!”