The man appeared so suddenly that the two outer disciples were startled. The savage killing intent on their faces froze instantly, quickly melting into expressions of panic.
The cleverer of the two forced himself to stay calm and shouted harshly toward the door, “The Xuanyun Sect is handling internal affairs here! Outsiders, stay back!”
“Xuanyun Sect?” A light chuckle drifted in from outside. The clear, bright voice showed no sign of retreating. “Since this is Pei Qingtian’s territory, I am even more curious to take a look.”
With that, he moved to push the door open.
The mottled wooden door let out a heavy “creak.” The first thing Shen Zhuo saw was a pair of black cloth boots; two steps later, the man stepped out from behind the door.
A slender figure stood against the light, his tall, upright frame outlined by a black brocade robe.
He toyed with a white jade fan that seemed entirely at odds with his overall aura. The fan’s ribs were as white as snow, flipping and spinning between his fingers.
The fan flickered in his hand, perfectly veiling his face in the shifting shadows and light, making it difficult to see him clearly.
In the blinding light, Shen Zhuo subconsciously squinted.
As his eyes finally adjusted to the sudden brightness flooding the room, a face familiar to his very core crashed into his vision without warning.
Shen Zhuo’s pupils constricted sharply; his breath hitched.
How is this possible?
Impossible! It cannot be!
Had he not fallen decades ago?
The massive shock left Shen Zhuo’s mind blank. All his thoughts were seized by that face standing against the light. An old name, buried for years, escaped his throat in an unconscious murmur:
“Mo Yuan?”
Snap!
The white jade fan snapped shut, emitting a crisp sound in the woodshed.
Hearing Shen Zhuo’s murmur, the man looked toward the disheveled youth on the floor with a half-smile and slowly approached.
“You,” the hem of the black brocade robe stopped before Shen Zhuo’s eyes, the shadow it cast almost completely enveloping him.
The cool handle of the fan tilted his chin up, forcing Shen Zhuo to meet those pitch-black eyes.
“Are you calling me?” the man asked playfully. “Mo Yuan?”
He studied Shen Zhuo’s face. The youth was pale, his eyelashes trembling, and his pupils were filled with undisguisable terror.
“Fellow Daoist Xie,” the outer disciple who had been pushed aside spoke up, bracing himself. “This is a private matter of our sect. We truly dare not trouble you.”
The man addressed as “Fellow Daoist Xie” reopened the white jade fan, waving it nonchalantly.
“How can something involving Pei Qingtian be called a trouble? He spends all his days outside upholding justice. Today, I have finally stumbled upon the Xuanyun Sect’s internal affairs. Why do I not help judge the case? It will save that busy man, Pei, from having his meditation disturbed. Do you not agree?”
The two outer disciples looked at each other. The one who spoke earlier hesitated. “Pei Qingtian? Do you mean Senior Brother Pei Chuan?”
The sword-wielding disciple was blunt and blurted out, “But it seems Fellow Daoist Xie is not even well-acquainted with Senior Brother Pei Chuan.”
“Not well-acquainted?” The man fanned himself even faster, creating a cool breeze that lifted the stray hairs on his forehead. “How could Pei Chuan and I not be well-acquainted?”
“Your surname is Xie?” Shen Zhuo suddenly spoke, his back held straight.
“Indeed. It seems the young friend does not recognize me.” The man tilted his head slightly, looking at Shen Zhuo with great interest. “My surname is Xie. I am Xie Yuan of Wangyou Valley, Yuan as in Yuan Heng Li Zhen.”
Shen Zhuo’s gaze was like a blade, as if trying to carve through this physical shell to pierce the depths of the soul. “You are not Mo Yuan?”
“Mo Yuan? Who is that?”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the woodshed was so silent a pin drop could be heard.
Shen Zhuo stared at Xie Yuan’s face. Every contour overlapped with the Mo Yuan in his memory, yet the temperament was worlds apart.
Xie Yuan’s eyes held only cynicism and playfulness; there was none of the tyrannical, detached coldness from his memories.
He had stayed by Mo Yuan’s side for seventeen years. During those seventeen years of living together day and night, Shen Zhuo had only seen the ruthless decisiveness Mo Yuan displayed while slaughtering the immortal sects.
How could such a demon, who made every cultivator tremble, be this fan-waving dandy?
Shen Zhuo half-closed his eyes, avoiding Xie Yuan’s gaze.
“Your Excellency bears a resemblance to him. It was my blunder to mistake you.”
“An old friend,” Xie Yuan toyed with the fan, drawing out the last word.
“Since it is an old friend, then so be it.” Xie Yuan closed the fan again, tapping the ribs twice against his palm before suddenly turning to the two outer disciples. “However,” he abruptly leaned down, the white jade fan precisely pointing at the hemp rope biting into the flesh of Shen Zhuo’s back.
“The Xuanyun Sect’s methods of handling internal affairs are truly unique. Two outer disciples actually managing the business of an inner disciple? Binding someone without permission, using private torture; how interesting.”
“Fellow Daoist Xie, you do not understand! He is Shen Zhuo!”
The sword-wielding disciple’s hand shook, yet he still forced a defense. “He is the trash who has not reached enlightenment in over a decade! The Sect Master must have been mistaken back then. He does not deserve to be an inner disciple at all!”
“Oh?” Xie Yuan raised an eyebrow. “So you are that Shen Zhuo.”
Before his voice even faded, a cold light flashed from the edge of the fan.
The white jade fan appeared gentle and harmless, but it was incredibly sharp. With a light tap, the hemp rope snapped.
Shen Zhuo felt the weight lift from his wrists as his numb hands regained their freedom.
He rubbed his wrists, which were marked with purple bruises, and looked up at the face identical to Mo Yuan’s. A flash of confusion flickered in his eyes regarding the man’s assistance.
From the sounds of it, he and the original owner of this body should have been complete strangers.
Seeing this, the two outer disciples grew anxious. “Fellow Daoist Xie!”
Xie Yuan stood up leisurely. “What is it?”
The eloquent disciple said, “This is an internal matter of our Xuanyun Sect. As a cultivator of Wangyou Valley, it is likely inappropriate for Fellow Daoist Xie to interfere so rashly, is it not?”
“It is indeed a bit inappropriate,” Xie Yuan replied, nodding as if in agreement.
Hearing this, joy began to surface in the disciples’ eyes.
Unexpectedly, his tone took a sharp turn: “Since it is a Xuanyun Sect matter, it should naturally be handled by someone from the Xuanyun Sect. Why do we not invite your fair and upright Senior Brother Pei Chuan, who loves judging matters of justice most, to settle this?”
“That will not do!” the sword-holding disciple shouted impulsively, then hurriedly tried to cover it up. “Why trouble Senior Brother Pei with such a trivial matter?”
“Is that so? But I have heard that the only reason Fellow Daoist Shen has been able to stay in the Xuanyun Sect until now is because of the care Pei Chuan gives to his most beloved junior brother.”
The sword-wielding disciple wanted to argue further but was suddenly pulled by his companion’s sleeve.
“There is no need to bother Senior Brother Pei with this small matter. Perhaps we were mistaken just now.”
As soon as he finished, the sword-wielding disciple looked at him in disbelief. “How could we be mistaken! It was Junior Brother Huo!”
“Shut up!” the other whispered harshly. “Let us go. Do you really want to alert Senior Brother Pei?”
“But our Ascension Pills,”
“We will talk when we get back.” The man glared at the sword-wielding disciple, then looked back at Shen Zhuo and Xie Yuan with resentment. “Fellow Daoist Xie, this was just a misunderstanding.”
Xie Yuan watched the two finish their whispering before leisurely turning around. “A misunderstanding? What do you think, Fellow Daoist Shen?”
However, he saw that Shen Zhuo looked dazed and his gaze was vacant, seemingly deaf to the question.
“It seems Fellow Daoist Shen agrees by silence,” Xie Yuan concluded nonchalantly, fanning himself. “Since the parties involved have no objection, then it truly was just a misunderstanding.”
Shen Zhuo still gave no reaction, not even noticing the departure of the two outer disciples.
At this moment, his entire mind was occupied by the system prompt.
The moment Xie Yuan loosened the hemp ropes, the system’s electronic voice popped up again.
[Ding: Target detected.] [Main quest activated: Pursue Xie Yuan.] [Initial task: Obtain a kiss from the target.] [Task Reward: 1% recovery of cultivation.]
“What is the task?” Shen Zhuo asked back in disbelief. “You want me to kiss Xie Yuan?”
[Yes, Host.]
Shen Zhuo asked again, “You are saying that if I kiss Xie Yuan once, I can recover my spiritual power?”
[Yes, Host.]
Shen Zhuo was silent for a moment, then said with absolute determination, “Then I will not do it.”
Trading a kiss for cultivation should have been an incredibly cost-effective deal compared to decades or centuries of bitter cultivation.
But because the target was Xie Yuan, he could not do it.
He could not bring himself to do such a thing to a face identical to Mo Yuan’s.
He had been imprisoned by Mo Yuan for seventeen long years. When Mo Yuan lost control, there had been messy kisses.
Perhaps they were more like biting than kissing.
Precisely because of this, Shen Zhuo was unwilling to have any involvement with this face.
He would rather start his cultivation from scratch than ever be entangled with this face again.
He let out a heavy breath, trying to expel those memories from his body.
But seventeen years of terror had long since merged into his marrow. Now, it transformed into a bone-chilling cold, crawling up from the soles of his feet inch by inch.
[Warning: Host has refused to execute the task.] [Passive resistance detected. System forced intervention program initiated. Punishment mechanism loaded. Task updated.] [Task 1: Kiss Xie Yuan within ten breaths. Task Reward: 1% recovery of cultivation. Failure Penalty: The pain of Heart-Eating Heavenly Tribulation.] [Refusing to execute core tasks will lead to irreversible consequences. Please reconsider, Host.]
The mechanical voice echoed in Shen Zhuo’s consciousness. Between breaths, Shen Zhuo looked up at the back of Xie Yuan’s black robe, just inches away.
Heart-Eating Tribulation?
This so-called system was clearly a string manipulated by the Heavenly Dao, making him feel a nauseating sense of being controlled.
Now, it did not even bother to hide anymore. This naked punishment mechanism exposed the Heavenly Dao’s intention to manipulate him.
What exactly did the Heavenly Dao want? To make him a chess piece or a puppet?
Five breaths, four, three.
Shen Zhuo counted his heartbeats. When three breaths remained, the face that overlapped with his nightmares suddenly turned around and entered his sight.
As soon as Xie Yuan turned, he met the youth’s fixed stare.
He was about to tease him when he saw the boy’s figure suddenly sway.
“Shen Zhuo!”
Shen Zhuo’s body tensed abruptly. The color drained from his face instantly, and the light vanished from his eyes.
Xie Yuan’s heart tightened. Seeing the youth on the verge of collapsing, he hurried to tuck his jade fan into his sleeve and reached out to support him.
The body beneath his hands was trembling violently. Beads of sweat rolled down the youth’s tense jaw.
“Shen Zhuo? Shen Zhuo?”
“Ugh, ah,” Shen Zhuo convulsed violently in his arms, his body curling up in agony.
It hurt, a heart-wrenching pain.
It was as if he were once again in the middle of a tribulation lightning storm. Every inch of his muscles and bones felt unbearable pain.
The most terrifying part was his chest; it felt as if ten thousand poisonous ants were gnawing at his heart meridians.
Only now did he realize that the resilience honed through decades of bitter cultivation was fragile in the face of this Heart-Eating Tribulation.
The pain erupted from the deepest part of his body, crushing his consciousness inch by inch.
Shen Zhuo nearly fainted from the intense agony. Just as his consciousness was about to dissipate, the system’s mechanical voice brought a final sliver of clarity.
[Punishment is ongoing. Please complete the task as soon as possible to terminate the punishment.]
Mo Yuan, the Heavenly Dao; everything was crushed into powder by the soul-tearing pain.
The torture of the pain left no room for anything else in his mind. The instinct for survival took over. Shen Zhuo’s trembling fingers gripped Xie Yuan’s lapel tightly, the force almost tearing the fabric.
Xie Yuan looked at the cold-sweat-drenched youth in his arms, his brow furrowed. “What is wrong with you?”
Shen Zhuo forced his eyes half-open. His bloodless lips trembled, and the breathy sound escaping his throat was shattered:
“Kiss.”
“What?” Xie Yuan’s pupils shrank. He almost doubted he was hallucinating.
Using his last ounce of strength, Shen Zhuo actually forced himself to prop up his body.
The youth’s burning breath was inches away, carrying a trembling tone of pain:
“Kiss me.”