The Taiyi Sect, Sect Leader’s residence, closed-door meditation chamber.
The room possessed an exceptionally high vaulted ceiling, allowing one to look up and see layers upon layers of intricate, nested cupolas. Inside stood a white stone platform, flanked by an incense burner with candles burning all around it, while a chair sat turned upside down in the corner.
Xie Wuwei was sitting right on that chair, resting his head on his arms atop the backrest, watching as Jiang Tan placed his corpse onto the stone platform before turning around to burn incense in the burner.
Honestly, he could have at least provided a cushion; that hard stone must be terribly uncomfortable.
He leaned back to avoid the drifting wisps of light smoke, tapped casually on the mirror hanging at his waist, and asked, “Guess what Jiang Tan is trying to do?”
The mirror remained silent for a moment. It had never seen anyone go fishing and use themselves as bait. “Are you just going to let him be? That is your body.”
“Do I look like I am in any position to stop him?” Xie Wuwei spread out his translucent hands and made a helpless expression. “Besides, I know him. He would never do anything egregiously malicious.”
Although Jiang Tan was arrogant, cold, ruthless, fickle, double-faced, and hypocritical, he was still incapable of anything truly over-the-top.
Of course, the statement above was not an endorsement of Jiang Tan’s character.
“Still, to be completely honest, I really cannot guess what he is up to.” He narrowed his eyes slightly at the person standing ahead. Whatever you are doing, hurry up and finish it, then bury me back down and make sure the coffin lid is properly sealed.
To keep running into you even after dying, what kind of terrible karma is this?
Jiang Tan stood before the stone platform, lowering his gaze to examine the two wounds on Xie Wuwei’s neck. One appeared to have already healed, leaving a faint white scar, while the other showed no signs of healing whatsoever—that fresh injury was the one that had taken Xie Wuwei’s life.
Both were fatal, throat-slitting wounds. Under normal circumstances, Xie Wuwei should have died the moment he received the first blow.
Jiang Tan stepped forward and pulled apart Xie Wuwei’s collar; he still needs to confirm something further.
“What do you think you are doing?” Xie Wuwei, who had been sitting there completely unbothered, suddenly stood straight up with wide eyes. “Why are you undressing me?”
Jiang Tan’s movements did not falter in the slightest as he cleanly and efficiently stripped away Xie Wuwei’s outer robe, tossing it casually to the side.
“Don’t just toss it around like that, it’s going to get dirty,” Xie Wuwei muttered helplessly, still entirely missing the point.
Jiang Tan continued. When only the undergarment remained, his hands paused for a moment as if hesitating, before slowly untying the final layer to reveal Xie Wuwei’s chest and abdomen.
Watching from the side, Xie Wuwei simply gave up and resigned himself to his fate, finally managing to squeeze out a single sentence after a long pause: “Well, at least my figure is good, so I have nothing to fear from being looked at.”
Who would have expected this? The dignified Sect Leader Jiang sneaking out in the middle of the night to dig up a grave, and now stripping someone’s clothes and feeling them up all over—tsk tsk. If word of this got out, it would be an absolute scandal. Isn’t this sheer madness?
The state of the world truly was deteriorating; beneath that immaculate, upright exterior, he was actually—tsk, tsk, tsk.
The mirror flashed briefly, as if utterly left speechless.
Jiang Tan straightened up, lowering his gaze as he stared at Xie Wuwei, lost in thought for a moment before turning around to retrieve a small white porcelain jar and a writing brush from a hidden compartment behind him.
When the jar was opened, it released an intensely fragrant, dark red paste.
Upon the stone platform, the lifeless corpse lay in quiet repose, resembling a flawless sacrificial offering. Unbeknownst to when it started, a strange, fragrant white smoke began to curl and weave through the entire chamber. It was not choking at all, but it cast a thin, hazy mist over the entire room. Looking around, the flickering candlelight amidst the drifting smoke created figures that looked eerily like dancing shadows.
Jiang Tan rolled up his sleeves to reveal a patch of his wrist, dipped his brush into a small amount of the red paste, and lifted the brush.
The tip touched Xie Wuwei’s pale skin—white against white, red against red.
Xie Wuwei had long since gone numb. Is he trying to summon a soul? he thought. Since when is calling back a spirit this troublesome? Why did he have to dig me up and leave me lying out here?
He narrowed his eyes, trying to peer through the layer of white smoke to see precisely what Jiang Tan was writing.
If it really is a soul-summoning ritual, that would be even better. I can catch you red-handed for stripping my clothes and desecrating my grave.
Yet the white smoke seemed to possess a mind of its own, constantly shrouding the stone platform in drifting mist and flickering candle flames. No matter how hard Xie Wuwei strained his eyes, he could only make out Jiang Tan’s pretty yet detestable face.
This was starting to get rather irritating.
Xie Wuwei stood up and could not resist taking a few steps forward, hoping to get a closer look.
Sensing something, Jiang Tan abruptly halted his brush and turned his head to look directly in his direction.
“What, never seen a male ghost before?” Xie Wuwei muttered under his breath, turning around to avoid his gaze.
Nothing there. Was it just my imagination? Jiang Tan withdrew his gaze, laid down the brush, drew the longsword from his waist, and casually braced it across his front. As if completely immune to pain, he pressed his bare arm directly against the razor-sharp blade.
Given how sharp Jiang Tan’s natal sword was, blood immediately gushed out upon contact, streaming down his wrist. The sword emitted a mournful, chiming vibration as it tasted its master’s blood.
Without a care, Jiang Tan neatly rolled up his sleeve to expose the wound, dipped his brush into his own blood, and began writing symbols across Xie Wuwei’s face and neck.
Xie Wuwei’s lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but the next second, Jiang Tan pressed his blood-stained right index finger right between Xie Wuwei’s brows.
Almost simultaneously with the motion, a powerful, overwhelming force slammed into Xie Wuwei’s back, shoving him hard toward the stone platform. It felt as though an invisible pair of hands was pressing against his spine with irresistible momentum, forcibly driving him back toward the platform—or more accurately, driving him straight back into his own physical body.
In an instant, the world turned upside down. Despite standing only a few paces away, Xie Wuwei felt his entire body plummet out of control. A blurred flash of red sped past his vision before plunging him into sudden darkness, and a biting chill swept over his entire being, as if he had plunged into freezing, deep water.
That was immediately followed by a wave of excruciating pain accompanied by suffocation. That’s strange—aren’t I already dead? Why on earth am I still feeling pain?
Aside from the darkness and the agony, the only sensation left was the cool touch of the fingertip pressed against his forehead.
Standing before the stone platform, Jiang Tan suddenly revealed a look of astonishment. Wiping the blood from his hand off casually, he leaned forward and gently poked Xie Wuwei’s cheek with his fingertip.
He looked no different than before.
Was that brief moment just an illusion?
Just as he intended to continue, a wave of exhaustion washed over him. Jiang Tan staggered back a few steps as a coppery, metallic taste rose in his throat. Leaning against the wall, he panted for a moment before calmly wiping away a streak of blood at the corner of his lips.
I’ll continue next time.
He bent down to pick up the clothing from the floor and draped it back over Xie Wuwei. Protected by sealing arrays, the meditation chamber remained completely dust-free, so the garment was naturally pristine.
He turned his gaze toward the skylight; the sky was beginning to glow with a faint, pale light. Dawn was approaching, and having announced he was in closed-door seclusion for the past few days, he still needed to show his face outside to avoid arousing suspicion.
Jiang Tan steadied himself against the wall for a moment. Once his breathing stabilized, he straightened his attire. As for the wound on his arm, it had already stopped bleeding on its own and required no special treatment; he simply wrapped a layer of gauze around it, letting his wide sleeves hang down so that no one would ever notice.
Leaving the meditation chamber, Jiang Tan headed to the front hall, where someone was already waiting for him.
“Junior Brother has finally arrived.” The person waiting in the side hall was bending down to tend to some potted plants, turning around with a smile as Jiang Tan entered, though his expression immediately furrowed into a frown. “What is wrong? Why do you look so pale?”
“It’s nothing,” Jiang Tan replied, rubbing his brow unnaturally as he steered the conversation away. “Why did you look for me?”
Cen Liantai smiled and said: “It is nothing major. It’s just that our esteemed Senior Brother is acting restless again.”
Back when Jiang Tan’s master had suddenly passed away, Jiang Tan had relied on the master’s final decree to override his seniors and hastily claim the position of Sect Leader, leaving quite a few of the disciples underneath deeply unconvinced.
“He has always been like that over the years. He can’t cause any real upheaval; just assign a few more people to keep an eye on him.”
“There is actually one more matter…” Cen Liantai’s expression turned hesitant as he closely observed Jiang Tan’s reaction. “It concerns Xie Wuwei.”
Having literally just dug up Xie Wuwei’s grave, Jiang Tan instinctively looked away at the mention of that name. “Senior Brother, speak plainly.”
“People from the Immortal Alliance recovered some of his personal belongings and his sword from Xie Wuwei’s residence, but one of the items appears to belong to you, Junior Brother.”
As he spoke, Cen Liantai drew a brocade pouch from his sleeve and handed it over: “Have a look.”
Jiang Tan was slightly stunned. “My belongings?” What on earth could he possibly have left with Xie Wuwei?
Puzzled, he took the pouch and opened it. Inside lay a small seal carved from fine Hotan jade.
It was undeniably his item, with his name cleanly and clearly carved into it.
Jiang Tan held the seal in his palm, stared at it in silence for a moment, and then looked up. “It is mine. Thank you for running this errand for me, Senior Brother.”
“What about the rest of the items? Should they be burned or—”
“Send them to the Tianyan Palace, but keep Xie Wuwei’s sword.”
“Fair enough, to prevent outsiders from accusing us of keeping other people’s belongings.” Cen Liantai nodded before pausing, a puzzled look crossing his face at the second half of the sentence. “Why do you need Xie Wuwei’s sword?”
“…The Immortal Alliance needs it to investigate the cause of Xie Wuwei’s death,” Jiang Tan said calmly, lowering his gaze.
“Understood, I will arrange it right away.” Cen Liantai turned to leave, but hesitated and stopped, looking back to give Jiang Tan a worried parting reminder: “Still, do not overwork yourself. Make sure to rest.”
Jiang Tan nodded.
After Cen Liantai departed, he picked up the small jade seal from the table once more, turned it over in his hand, inspected it closely for a moment, and then placed it back down.
It was nothing particularly significant—merely a private communication seal from back when he was still a direct disciple.
At the time, he and Xie Wuwei had not yet turned against each other, and their relationship had been reasonably decent. On Xie Wuwei’s birthday one year, Jiang Tan had accidentally misplaced his intended gift and had given him this seal instead.
“My name is carved right on it, so you can’t deny it. If you ever want anything in the future, just trade this seal with me.”
“Then I’m making a killing,” Xie Wuwei had chuckled as he accepted it.
Yet later on, they became sworn enemies who drew blades against each other, and until Xie Wuwei betrayed the sect and ultimately met his death, neither of them had ever remembered this joke of a trinket.
Jiang Tan rubbed his brow, retrieved a small jade bottle from his sleeve, swallowed a pill, and felt his complexion improve slightly before standing up to head out.
Inside the meditation chamber.
The sensation of being resurrected did not seem particularly pleasant. Xie Wuwei was currently dealing with an aching waist, a sore neck, a splitting headache, and an agonizingly stiff body. After struggling for ages, he managed only a feeble twitch of his little finger.
“I’m going to be bruised to death by this table. They might as well have just thrown me straight onto the floor.” At least the floor was flat, without any carved decorative edges designed specifically to dig into one’s back.
Clearly, Xie Wuwei was alive, but he didn’t seem quite thoroughly alive yet.
“Congratulations,” the mirror offered its sincere congratulations. It had previously worried that Xie Wuwei had no lingering attachments and would simply choose to stay dead, but it never expected Jiang Tan to bypass the root of the problem entirely and manage to resurrect Xie Wuwei on the spot. Truly impressive.
Xie Wuwei had died abruptly and returned to life just as quickly—he truly was a man of efficiency.
“Stop congratulating me and help me figure out how to run,” Xie Wuwei muttered, struggling to move his limbs, though so far he could only manage physical therapy exercises for his fingers.
After all, ending up in Jiang Tan’s hands while dead versus ending up in Jiang Tan’s hands while alive were two completely different scenarios!
“Where on earth did Jiang Tan learn a trick like this?” Xie Wuwei gave a mighty heave, causing his right hand to suddenly regain mobility. The clothes draped over him slid off the platform and dropped onto the floor from the sudden movement.
Almost simultaneously, the faint sound of the chamber’s stone doors beginning to open echoed from outside.
Oh, great. I’m finished.
Xie Wuwei’s vision went completely dark. He looked far more dead than he had moments before.