It’s you. Fu Yun’s lips twitched. Mother.
Mother loved to wear plain, simple clothes moon-white, pale blue, light lotus pink. Only once was her dress red the day the Fu family sent her as a cauldron slave to a minor sect.
Her clothes were soaked in blood. Some of it was Fu Yun’s blood too. He was five years old then.
Later, the Fu family said that Yun Ji had abandoned her husband and son, climbed to a higher branch, only to give birth to a worthless daughter, incurring the disdain of that higher branch, and she took her own life. Fu Yun didn’t believe it.
The first word he learned to say was “Mama.” Mama held his hand, dipped a twig in water, and traced the first character: life.
When grass and trees break through the soil, that is growth. Year after year, branches are trampled, leaves are plucked, flowers are snapped, fruits are taken. But the roots remain buried in the earth, still struggling to break free, to grow upward.
“Spring wind blows, willow catkins drift, little child runs and runs,
Mountains stretch far, home is distant, Little Yun, don’t climb the stars and moon high,
Clumsy and carefree.”
The phantom hummed a lullaby, off-key. Fu Yun walked over, embraced her from behind, then pierced through her.
The phantom gazed at him sorrowfully. “Little Yun, don’t you recognize your mother anymore?”
“She never cried,” Fu Yun said softly, tightening his grip. The blade pierced through Yun Ji and through his own chest.
Usually, at this point, the inner demon should have dissipated, and the intense pain would wake Fu Yun. But this time, the phantom didn’t attack him. Instead, she quietly returned the embrace, gently patting his back.
Fu Yun sensed something was wrong. There was no fluctuation of spiritual power or demonic energy from her.
This wasn’t an inner demon it was a nightmare. Fu Yun had actually fallen asleep while meditating.
The lullaby, like Yun Ji’s hand, gently brushed over Fu Yun. He waited quietly for her to disappear before breaking free from the dream. As soon as he opened his eyes, he saw several familiar inner demons wandering about.
The most fundamental difference between an inner demon and a nightmare is this: inner demons attack Fu Yun using spiritual or demonic energy, but dreams do not.
Fu Yun fell into thought.
Ever since failing to absorb Qing Sheng, he had been pondering where he went wrong. That’s it the fluctuation of spiritual energy.
Nightmares have no spiritual energy fluctuations.
Fu Yun had disguised himself as a nightmare, trying to blend into the dream and lower the dreamer’s guard. But cauldrons are inherently vessels for spiritual power, naturally absorbing it. Even the soul has this instinct.
So the moment Fu Yun entered the dream, his body exposed him as an intruder from another source.
To prevent spiritual energy from dissipating, cauldron masters often seal the spiritual meridians of their cauldrons. But if the meridians are sealed, how could Fu Yun use his techniques and enter dreams to absorb energy?
If spiritual communion truly proved impossible, Fu Yun would have to rely on physical union. However, powerful cultivators typically guard their primal yang closely. To advance quickly, he would need to absorb energy from a large number of low-level cultivators, but this would lead to impure spiritual energy and unstable cultivation realms.
Both paths seemed to lead to a dead end.
Why is it that innate spiritual power leads to such vastly different destinies? Why is the gap between immortals greater than that between humans and dogs?
Fear. Hatred. Envy. Madness… Inner demons gnawed at his emotions, a chaotic dance of demons.
In that instant, the thought of seizing another’s body for rebirth flashed through Fu Yun’s mind. But as soon as the idea arose, it was suppressed by an even stronger sense of unwillingness. Body seizure was the last resort. For now, he had to find another path to cultivation.
Fu Yun thought of the high-ranking member of the Joyful Union Sect imprisoned in the Punishment Department.
Could that person provide him with answers?
Sect Master Kou Yujing had returned to the sect.
Upon seeing Fu Yun’s visiting card, he summoned Fu Yun to his cave abode.
Thirty years ago, Kou Yujing had guided Fu Yun into the sect. At that time, he was only a Nascent Soul True Person. Now, he had become a Divine Transformation Dao Venerable.
Kou Yujing was tall, sitting bolt upright in the cramped cave dwelling, nearly piercing through the ceiling. His brow bones were rugged, with a faint scar on his forehead, his profile resembling a reef smoothed by flowing water—in short, he looked unapproachable.
But in reality, he was not.
Kou Yujing had no Dao companion. Back when he was still an elder, he raised a flock of chickens, ducks, geese, rabbits, and lambs, feeding them spirit pills until they became immortal beasts. One year, during a sect gathering, a drunken cultivator ate one of his rabbit offspring.
Elder Kou blocked the cultivator for three days, demanding an apology to the rabbit’s descendants, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
He didn’t succeed and was instead beaten up. After reflecting on the pain, Elder Kou resolved to cultivate and become stronger.
—All of the above were stories Elder Kou used to amuse Fu Yun. After he became the Department Head, the two rarely saw each other.
Now, the Department Head had grown increasingly composed, switching to raising spirit turtles.
Fu Yun sat down, gazing at the large turtle-shell table before him.
The Department Head soothed the dozing spirit turtle, a nine-foot-tall man humming a lullaby.
Fu Yun’s expression turned slightly peculiar.
The Department Head had sung this tune for him too.
The year Fu Yun entered the Internal Affairs Department, he was just twelve. Elder Kou was like a father to him—often absent, occasionally giving him things, and his guidance always came with a lecture.
After calming the old turtle, the Department Head looked at Fu Yun, his gaze steady. “You…”
Fu Yun held his breath.
“Have you grown a little taller again?”
Here we go again.
The Department Head drifted into reminiscence: “Seeing you reminds me of when you were little, needing a small stool to climb onto me. Now you’re almost as tall as five or six old turtles stacked together.”
Fu Yun chose his words carefully: “May I ask, Department Head…”
The Department Head set down his cup: “What should you call me?”
Fu Yun: “…Brother.”
“I still miss the days when you called me ‘Bandit,'” the Department Head sighed, picking up his cup again. “You seem distracted. What’s on your mind? Did your master bully you again?”
His guess, though accidental, hit close to the truth—only the phrasing was odd. Fu Yun was about to brush it off with “My master is devoted to the sect, benefiting all living beings,” when the Department Head set down his cup and said, “Drink your tea.”
Fu Yun had no choice but to pick up his cup. He took a sip and nearly spat it out. The tea was neither bitter nor sweet—it was sour.
“Brother, where did this tea come from?”
Department Head: “I was tidying up the old cave dwelling yesterday and found this tea cake in the cabinet. I remember you liked Pu’er.”
Fu Yun: “The last time you visited that cave dwelling was eighteen years ago, during your seclusion.”
The Department Head confiscated Fu Yun’s teacup, tossing the contents behind him with a light cough. “Now that the tea’s finished, let’s talk business.”
He handed Fu Yun a pass token from the Punishment Department. On the front was engraved “Save All Beings,” while the side pressed against Fu Yun’s palm read “Subdue Evil Spirits.”
“You may participate in the interrogation of the Joyous Union Sect,” the Department Head added. “One of the Nascent Soul realm cauldrons is of special concern to Elder Mingyi.”
The token was heavy. Fu Yun took it, his hand dipping almost imperceptibly.
Elder Mingyi was a peak elder supported by aristocratic families, who had long sought to interfere in the Taiyi Sect’s internal affairs and oust the Department Head, who had no backing.
Clearly, the Department Head wanted Fu Yun to handle the cauldron to prevent Mingyi from succeeding.
Daring to give Fu Yun the pass token directly likely meant other high-ranking officials had consented to this arrangement.
Fu Yun had two choices: follow the old rules and kill, or let the person go.
The Department Head said, “Do as you see fit. Whatever is most convenient.”
“Yes, Department Head.” Fu Yun performed a disciple’s salute.
Moonlight could not penetrate the deep water prison. Only candlelight wept until dawn, casting shadows of dark red water stains on the walls.
The cell door creaked softly as a disciple entered.
Zhu Qingke leaned against the stone wall, too far away to clearly see the newcomer’s appearance—her eyes had been damaged from torture.
The disciple directly performed a soul search.
He was clearly an expert; Zhu Qingke only felt a dull ache, without the sensation of her soul shattering. She was surprised she could still laugh: “You Taiyi Sect can’t just think I’m a bad person because I’m pretty, can you?”
Good heavens, in this lifetime, she killed without sleeping with them, slept with them without killing them… huh?
The disciple unsealed her spiritual meridians and gestured—follow.
Zhu Qingke was suspicious and wary, but how much worse could things get? She followed the silent figure, leaving the water prison without any obstacles.
The moonlight was like water, splashing coldly upon the world.
Zhu Qingke, suddenly exposed to the light, felt a sharp pain in her eyes, tears sliding down. She transmitted a message to the disciple who stood with his back to her: “What do you want?”
“What do you have to exchange?” The disciple remained silent, only using spiritual energy to form words in the air. Zhu Qingke suspected he wasn’t human but a puppet, which was why he couldn’t speak.
Zhu Qingke took out a jade slip and pressed it into his hand. She had no time to transmit it with her divine sense and urgently messaged: “This is a backup of my sect’s secret technique… Even if you don’t cultivate it, you can sell it for a high price.”
The disciple remained silent. Zhu Qingke solemnly said: “Please don’t look down on the art of dual cultivation.”
“All cultivators absorb the essence of heaven and earth to nourish themselves. Absorbing yang to supplement yin is by no means lowly. No one in our Hehuan Sect has attained enlightenment because most are cauldrons, and the Heavenly Dao does not tolerate cauldrons…”
A line of words formed in mid-air—Go.
Before leaving, she glanced at Fu Yun one last time and inexplicably smiled: “Your hands are very beautiful.”
After her final message, several mountains away, Fu Yun’s expression shifted.
He immediately recalled the grass puppet, retrieved the jade slip, and accelerated the puppet’s decay before tossing it into a stream.
For the past few days, the system had watched Fu Yun’s struggles. Seeing him successfully obtain the technique, it was about to cheer…
But Fu Yun did something the system found hard to believe.
He destroyed the acquired technique and that very night, requested an audience with the Sect Master, Kou Yujing.
The Sect Master was not in the sect, but his personal attendant specially met with Fu Yun.
“The Sect Master says: Taiyi Sect teaches without discrimination, embracing all rivers. As long as disciples are loyal to the sect and abide by their duties, the sect will spare no effort in nurturing them…”
After inspecting the technique jade slip, the attendant elder stored it away and smiled meaningfully at Fu Yun.
“Steward Fu, the Sect Master has high hopes for you.”
Fu Yun knew then that he had made the right move.
His sudden emphasis on cultivation must have aroused the sect’s suspicions.
The Internal Affairs Department didn’t even want him to train in a single secret realm. As the head of the sect, how could the Sect Master give him the opportunity to access dual cultivation techniques and greatly increase his power?
Saving the Hehuan cauldron wasn’t just about internal power struggles among the higher-ups; it was also targeted at Fu Yun.
Perhaps when Fu Yun rescued Zhu Qingke, many pairs of eyes were watching him from the shadows.
Fu Yun saving the cauldron was following orders. Destroying the technique was proving he had no ulterior motives.
His path was too narrow; he had to be cautious and tread as if on thin ice.
By the time he finished handling everything and returned to his residence, the sky was already beginning to lighten.
The morning mist hadn’t dispersed, the mountainside was quiet and cold, and deep within the bamboo forest, a figure stood silently.
Xie Lingjun’s sword hung at his waist, the scabbard covered in fine droplets of water, reflecting the pale gray light of dawn.
“A prisoner escaped last night,” Xie Lingjun said without preamble, his voice colder than the morning mist. “Senior Brother must have heard.”
Fu Yun looked puzzled: “Who was that prisoner, to break through the twelve gates of the Punishment Department?”
“A remnant of the Hehuan Sect,” Xie Lingjun’s gaze pierced straight through. “She tried to breach the mountain-protecting array and detonated her soul when intercepted. I took part in the pursuit.”
Soul detonation.
Body perished, soul extinguished, no entry into reincarnation.
Fu Yun’s breathing remained unchanged as he frowned and sighed, “What a pity. We couldn’t dig out her mastermind. Did you come to me specifically because you need assistance from the Internal Affairs Department?”
Xie Lingjun did not take the bait. “I was very close to the fugitive. At the last moment, I smelled a scent that didn’t belong to her the bitterness of herbs and medicine.”
His words paused briefly as he took half a step forward, the bamboo leaves beneath his feet emitting a faint, crisp rustle.
“You’ve been on leave for half a month, too ill to leave your quarters. Yet tonight, you were not at your residence.”
Xie Lingjun asked, “Fu Yun, why did you save a cauldron?”
Fu Yun fell silent for a few seconds.
With utmost caution, he asked, “Junior Brother Xie. are you a dog?”
What did he mean by “smelling bitterness”?
The sect is full of alchemists. How could a trace of bitterness on a puppet lead him to suspect Fu Yun?
Why does this person disregard logic yet still stumble upon the right answer?