Xu Lingguang had made up his mind. After resting for a night at Qingyu Sect, he set off at dawn the next day.
Yu Jun and Zhou Fuying accompanied him.
This was the first time since transmigrating that Xu Lingguang felt so settled.
Although he couldn’t return for the time being, it was as if a hazy veil before his eyes had suddenly been lifted. He now had a clearer sense of reality in this world and a simple plan.
Xu Lingguang had a good sense of direction. The path he had taken the day before was already etched in his mind, and he smoothly led Zhou Fuying and Yu Jun back the same way.
To be cautious, Zhou Fuying and Yu Jun did not step into the range of Ailao Mountain. The three agreed that if Xu Lingguang ever needed anything in the future, they would meet here after sending a message.
Zhou Fuying and Yu Jun noted the location and watched as Xu Lingguang walked briskly into Ailao Mountain.
Yu Jun suddenly recalled the day she had roasted rabbits with him. At that time, Xu Lingguang had also been full of joy, his slightly drooping eyes sparkling with light, appearing harmless and bright, easily winning people’s favor.
She could hardly remember what those eyes looked like when filled with calculation and malice.
Yu Jun’s gaze flickered, and she called out to Xu Lingguang, reminding him, “The legends about Ailao Mountain are true. The cultivators who chased you last time died under the claws of Chenghuang after entering Ailao Mountain.”
As for why Xu Lingguang remained unscathed, she didn’t know the reason and could only attribute it to his good luck.
But a person’s luck is always limited. Xu Lingguang couldn’t be this fortunate forever.
So the two who had first chased him were actually dead. Xu Lingguang was taken aback. “When did this happen?”
“Right after you rolled down the slope.”
Xu Lingguang thought back. After rolling down the slope, he had lost consciousness. At that time, he might have brushed past the legendary Chenghuang.
The two cultivators who had chased him were dead, but he had survived.
Xu Lingguang joked, “Could it be that this Chenghuang is some righteous judge who only kills the wicked?”
In Yu Jun’s eyes, the original Xu Lingguang was no good person. As for the one before her now… it was still too early to say. So she simply shared what she knew with Xu Lingguang: “The prohibition of Ailao Mountain seems to apply to cultivators. In earlier years, I also heard of ordinary people who accidentally entered Ailao Mountain, got lost in the deep mountains, and inexplicably found their way out. But these are just rumors among the common folk and cannot be verified.”
Perhaps Xu Lingguang hadn’t died under Chenghuang’s claws because he had lost all his cultivation and was no different from an ordinary person.
Xu Lingguang carefully noted this information. “I understand. Thank you.”
Yu Jun smiled slightly at him. Without the deliberately feigned frail demeanor, her smile was bright and lovely.
Xu Lingguang waved to the two of them without turning around and strode deep into the mountain forest.
Xu Lingguang returned briskly to where he had left Song Nanchu but couldn’t find the person who should have been there.
Just as he was frowning, wondering where to look, a cold, slender serpentine body descended from the dense branches overhead. For some reason, Song Nanchu had transformed into his original form. His triangular head hung upside down, facing Xu Lingguang, and his flickering tongue made a sound as he spoke: “I’m here. The ground is too hot.”
His condition seemed slightly better than before, but only slightly. Xu Lingguang noticed his body draped over the branch like a limp, powerless rope. To prevent slipping off, his serpent tail had even deliberately coiled several extra loops around the branch.
However, likely due to lack of strength, his slender form—which should have been tightly coiled—lay loosely wound instead. The tip of his tail hung down weakly, slipping bit by bit, and he would occasionally retract it upward to ensure he didn’t slide off completely.
Xu Lingguang: “…”
He took a step back, adjusting slightly to Song Nanchu’s new appearance, and said, “I returned to Qingyu Sect and sent word to Yu Jun and Zhou Fuying. However, Yu Jun said there are people from the demon race waiting at Qingyu Sect to capture you. He advised you not to return until you’ve fully recovered.”
Upon hearing the words “demon race,” Song Nanchu’s pupils contracted into thin slits, and his body tensed up.
Xu Lingguang didn’t press further and quickly changed the subject: “I plan to build a house in the mountains. I’ve already scouted a location. If you can move, lend a hand. After all, you’ll likely be staying here for a while.”
Xu Lingguang had already scouted two locations. After comparing them, he chose the second one—a slightly elevated, flat, and open area.
The clearing was spacious enough, with wild vegetables and fruits scattered around. A small stream flowed through a slightly lower area nearby, providing ample resources—perfect for settling down.
Once Xu Lingguang decided on the spot, he brought Song Nanchu along to relocate there.
Although Song Nanchu could move now, his abilities were limited to hanging from tree branches like a rope. Helpless, Xu Lingguang fashioned a simple sled from vines and branches, letting Song Nanchu coil onto it before dragging him along slowly.
Building a house from scratch was no easy task. Xu Lingguang was inexperienced and frail, while Song Nanchu, weak and injured, couldn’t offer much help. For the first ten days or so, Xu Lingguang slowly felled trees, cleared weeds, and dug the foundation, spending his nights lying under a tree in his clothes.
Fortunately, his Sumeru Ring contained food supplies, saving him the time and effort of foraging.
Half a month later, Xu Lingguang finally prepared the necessary beams and pillars and finished digging the foundation. He rolled up his sleeves, ready to start framing the structure.
The thickest and heaviest logs were placed into the sunken foundation. Without nails, Xu Lingguang had to figure out how to secure them using mortise and tenon joints, then twist dried vines into thick ropes for reinforcement.
After securing three vertical pillars, he still needed one more rope. He tossed a bundle of dried vines in front of Song Nanchu and naturally ordered, “Twist these into a rope—make it sturdy. I’ll go fetch some stones to weigh down the foundation and fill it with soil. If the foundation isn’t solid, wind and rain could easily topple it.”
Muttering to himself, he walked away to gather broken stones, leaving Song Nanchu glaring at the bundle of vines.
A short while later, Xu Lingguang returned, sweating profusely and carrying two stones. Seeing that Song Nanchu hadn’t started working, he urged impatiently, “If you can’t handle heavy labor, fine, but surely you can twist a rope?”
He glanced Song Nanchu up and down. Though he didn’t say it aloud, the reproach in his eyes was unmistakable.
How come we’re both barely-alive invalids, yet you’re so delicate and useless?
Song Nanchu: “…”
His jaw tightened as he picked up the vines, recalling Xu Lingguang’s movements, and clumsily began twisting the rope.
These past few days, it wasn’t that he deliberately refused to help—it was simply that his condition was extremely unstable. What used to be a period of weakness lasting only three or four days had now persisted for over half a month. He couldn’t even fully revert to human form anymore, either transforming back to his original serpent shape or taking on a half-human, half-serpent appearance.
At first, he had been sullen and displeased with his half-human, half-serpent form, spending his days hanging from tree branches pretending to be dead.
But ever since Xu Lingguang started building the house, he would occasionally and unapologetically order him to do things. The half-human, half-serpent form was, after all, much more convenient than his original shape. From initial reluctance, he had now grown completely accustomed to this appearance of his.
After twisting a rope, Song Nanchu saw Xu Lingguang throwing stones and filling soil into the foundation.
Over these days, Xu Lingguang had tanned slightly, his once deathly pale complexion now flushed with color, and his eyes were bright and spirited. At a glance, he looked like a young man in his early twenties. Though Song Nanchu had seen this many times already, each time he would still be caught off guard and pause for a moment.
As he stared for too long, Xu Lingguang noticed and looked up at him, reaching out a hand. “Throw me the rope.”
Song Nanchu tossed the rope to him, and Xu Lingguang deftly caught it, proceeding to reinforce the final corner of the foundation for the second time.
It was only after naturally completing this series of actions that Song Nanchu himself froze for a moment. He narrowed his eyes, patting his tail with some agitation, feeling that he had been far too unguarded around Xu Lingguang lately.
The person before him was Xu Lingguang. Even if he had lost his memories, they shouldn’t be this close.