Wen Zhihan held a bottle of powdered healing medicine in his hand, having just popped open the lid.
The bandages on his body had been soaked through by the water and were completely unwrapped, revealing the pink knife wound on his abdomen. Having soaked in the spiritual spring water, the wound had long since stopped bleeding; the flesh and skin were already healing on their own without the need for stitches.
Normally, treating this with spiritual energy and elixirs would still leave the wound invisible for over ten days, but now it would probably take only seven days before it no longer restricted his movement.
He was just about to pour out the medicinal powder when he heard his disciple calling him.
“What is it?”
Wen Zhihan turned his head to see Shen Zong standing at the edge of the spring, his calves submerged in the water, looking as though he wanted to say something.
The breeze that had been blowing since just a moment ago suddenly stopped.
Shen Zong frowned slightly, concealing the vexation deep in his eyes, and changed his tune, “It’s nothing.”
The sudden impulse from just a moment ago felt like an illusion; even he himself didn’t know what it had been for.
Seeing him hesitate and fall silent again, Wen Zhihan merely smiled.
Whether it was the ferocious beast that had suddenly launched an attack, or the faint traces of the Cold Lamp Fruit, he was not entirely oblivious, but he had still chosen to conceal everything from Chen Feijue.
The reason was simple.
He could not allow anyone to take Shen Zong away under any charge.
Chen Feijue was not a man of bad character; he just had a somewhat explosive temper, but in the original story, he would also become one of the members who joined the encirclement of Shen Zong.
Perhaps it was a misunderstanding, or perhaps people simply did not understand Shen Zong’s helplessness, but at that very moment, Wen Zhihan had already made an instinctive reaction.
Faced with his disciple’s unspoken hesitation, he simply laughed it off, pretending that nothing had happened. “The sun won’t set for another few hours. You needn’t mind Chen… Chen Xianzun’s affairs.”
“Understood.”
Shen Zong turned his back, only to catch a glimpse of his own reflection in the water.
The reflection of him curved into a bizarre smile, the depths of his eyes glowing a dark red like a malicious ghost.
Clearly, he had tried his utmost to suppress it, and with the help of the spiritual spring, his inner demon had still relapsed even more frequently.
Kill him… What are you hesitating for?
You know he deserves to die.
Just because he gave you a little sweetness… have you grown weak?
No, that’s not it.
He simply felt that something was not quite right.
It seemed as though a thought flashed across his mind, but it was quickly disrupted by the inner demon. A sharp pain, akin to a thin, long needle suddenly piercing his mind—even more intense than the dull ache of the wound on his back—nearly caused Shen Zong to cry out in pain.
He drew a deep breath, lowered his head while clutching his head, and steadied himself against a rock by the spiritual spring to avoid slipping into the water.
“A-Yuan!”
Not far away, Wen Zhihan instantly noticed that something was wrong with him. Panic gripped his heart, making him forget all about changing his own medicine, and he rushed over swiftly.
“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”
Shen Zong hastily dodged, not wanting him to discover that he had been afflicted by an inner demon. He covered his eyes and ducked his head away.
“It’s nothing.”
“Let me look.”
Concern clouded Wen Zhihan’s judgment. Ignoring Shen Zong’s deliberate attempts to dodge and resist, he directly grabbed his arm and pulled it away. “Did something get into your eyes?”
“Mn.”
Shen Zong had no choice but to pretend that his eyes were uncomfortable. Feeling the inner demon subside once more, he slowly opened his eyes, shook his head, and said,
“It’s already fine.”
“Really? But…”
But you looked like you were in agonizing pain just a moment ago.
Wen Zhihan was still somewhat uneasy, but after staring closely into his eyes for a moment, aside from them being a bit wet from the water, there truly were no other issues.
He had no choice but to temporarily drop the questioning.
Shen Zong turned his head to the side, a stunned look on his face.
Wen Zhihan followed his gaze and saw his medicine bottle lying quietly on the snow. It was the one he had accidentally knocked over in his haste to rush over.
Now, most of the medicinal powder had spilled out, mixing with the powder-like white snow.
Thinking that Shen Zong was worried, Wen Zhihan said unconcernedly, “It’s fine, there’s more on the cloud boat. I’ll change the dressing when we get back.”
Shen Zong didn’t speak again.
If he were to proactively offer to help his master tend to his wounds, or simply say that he still had healing medicine of his own on hand, he could slip the next dose of poison into the mix.
It was very simple; it wouldn’t necessarily be discovered—it only took a few words and a few small movements.
Yet, suddenly, he couldn’t even be bothered to open his mouth, and simply nodded in silence.
“Rest here a while longer.”
Wen Zhihan gave a few more instructions, then pulled up his clothes, dressed properly, and turned to walk away.
However, he did not head straight back to the cloud boat to wait. Instead, he changed direction midway, taking a detour toward a nearby, secluded peak.
This was still within the boundaries of the Xuan-Yu Pale Realm, but this particular peak had no spiritual spring. Its mountain body was towering and steep, and very few people ever went there to tend to it.
Precisely because of this, in a certain plotline of the original story, an avalanche would occur on this mountain, burying Shen Zong and his traveling companions beneath the snow.
They were all disciples with low cultivation levels; encountering a major disaster like an avalanche meant they could only endure a bit longer than ordinary mortals.
At that time, a cultivator with higher cultivation happened to pass by the area, rescued one of them, and asked how many other victims remained.
And so, all seven people except for Shen Zong were rescued; not a single person mentioned Shen Zong.
He had been ostracized.
Wen Zhihan couldn’t remember why those people chose to ostracize Shen Zong. Perhaps it was out of jealousy of his talent; perhaps it was because, despite both being at the Foundation Establishment stage, Shen Zong was decades younger than them; or perhaps it was because they saw that he lacked the protection and backing of a master, making it cost-free to bully him.
He only remembered young Shen Zong being pinned beneath the heavy white snow, his whole body freezing cold, hearing the faint sounds of voices in the distance and wanting to cry out for help. He had wanted to stretch out a hand to let others know he was there, but his voice was too small for anyone to notice.
If he didn’t save himself before the sun set, he would freeze to death in vain right here.
With all his might, Shen Zong circulated his entire reserve of spiritual energy to ward off the cold. Driven by the desperate circumstances, he unexpectedly experienced an epiphany, breaking through from the mid-Foundation Establishment stage to the late Foundation Establishment stage. Relying on the suddenly erupted spiritual energy, he blasted his way out from beneath the accumulated snow.
At this moment, Wen Zhihan stood before the mountain peak, gazing at the boundless white snow, and stepped forward, walking up the mountain step by step.
Before that happened, he would first find the root cause of the avalanche here: The Leaving-Man Tree.
A type of spiritual tree perpetually covered in white snow, whose roots could spread across the entire mountain, yet whose branches were very short—only as tall as an adult—and often transformed into human form. Because it was reclusive and disliked humans, it often intentionally disguised itself as a dried corpse to frighten wayfarers.
The reason an avalanche occurred in the original story was that it had awakened this tree hidden within the snow. Once it moved, the trembling of its roots underground triggered the avalanche.
After the avalanche, the very first thing Shen Zong did upon being rescued was not to flee, but to search for the whereabouts of his traveling companions, wanting to rescue the others as well.
It was precisely because of this narrow escape that, for the first time in five hundred years, the Leaving-Man Tree took the initiative to speak to a human, trying to persuade Shen Zong to abandon the Dao and cultivate the demonic arts.
You truly have a benevolent heart; you nearly died yourself yet you were still thinking of saving others, but they were long since rescued and left. Not a single one of them ever mentioned pulling you out.
As long as you are willing to cultivate the demonic arts, I will pass on my five hundred years of cultivation to you, and even kill those few people for you.
Shen Zong did not heed the Leaving-Man Tree’s persuasion, and instead asked rhetorically, “I have no interest in cultivating demonic arts. Since you want to help me, you might as well help me with something else.”
Thus, the Leaving-Man Tree imparted a forbidden art capable of summoning the dead to Shen Zong.
This tree’s root system was far too developed; unless all its roots were eradicated, it would not truly die, nor could the occurrence of the avalanche be prevented.
The only thing Wen Zhihan could seemingly do was talk this tree into a compromise.
At the very least, he could not allow Shen Zong to come into contact with this kind of harmful, forbidden art ever again.
On the other side, once he confirmed that Wen Zhihan had left, Shen Zong did not linger in the spiritual spring any longer.
He stepped out of the spring, feeling that the discomfort in his body had mostly subsided, and after adjusting his attire, he walked down the mountain.
He originally intended to leave this place immediately, using the spiritual spring as an excuse to find a secluded spot to cultivate and recover a modicum of his strength.
If he wanted to rapidly increase his cultivation realm, he could also capture a few unattended demonic beasts and kill them, seizing their treasures and refining their demonic cores.
Doing so was somewhat unorthodox, but he had already been reborn with an inner demon tagging along anyway, and sooner or later he would have to cultivate demonic arts in the future, so there was no need to worry too much about side effects.
Yet before he even reached the foot of the mountain, Shen Zong suddenly tripped over his own feet and staggered.
Looking back, it turned out to be an ugly, winding, and intertwined tree root that had come from who knows where.
Shen Zong acted as though he hadn’t noticed, turned around, and walked away, completely unwilling to pay it any mind.
Don’t leave. Don’t you want to become powerful?
I’ll kill that hateful master of yours for you. In exchange, why don’t you kowtow and take me as your master, and I’ll teach you the demonic arts—
“Scram.”
Before the words had even faded, the hum of a long sword rang out. The sharp, slender blade had already plunged deeply into the root, nearly slicing it clean through.
Seeming to know that this wouldn’t kill it, Shen Zong’s wrist gave a slight twist, as if trying to skin that section of the root, prying open a long, gaping split upwards.
With a squelch, the brown root’s sap spewed forth, shockingly bright red in color.
Ah! You brat! Ungrateful wretch—
Without waiting for Shen Zong to do anything further, the rough-skinned rhizome burrowed flexibly into the depths of the soil like a python.
“I hope you remember: the only person who is allowed to kill him is me.”
Shen Zong said darkly. As if able to perceive the path of the root’s movement, he once again thrust his sword deep into the earth. It was unclear which part of the root he had injured, but more crimson red stained the soil and white snow.
“Don’t ever appear in front of me again.”
Don’t you have a wish you want fulfilled?! You… I am kindly trying to help you, why are you so violent?!
Since you don’t want me to avenge you by killing people, nor do you want to cultivate demonic arts, surely you must have one or two departed souls you wish to resurrect? Surely there are secrets you are desperately eager to know?
Such great talent! Such a fine bone structure! To go and be some sort of immortal cultivator is simply a waste, a sheer waste!!
“Oh, it’s you.”
As if only just remembering what species it was that had suddenly struck up a conversation with him, Shen Zong chuckled lightly. He actually raised his head and looked off in a completely different direction, as though peering through the clouds and mist to gaze upon its true body.
“The Leaving-Man Tree… I almost forgot about you…”
It was rumored to be a type of sprite that only those destined or experiencing extreme misfortune could encounter. It could transform into a human shape, yet possessed very little human understanding. Most people were unaware of this reclusive tree spirit’s abilities, but Shen Zong had once heard it boast boastfully that it had lived long enough for there to be no secret art in the world that it did not know.
Back then, it was this tree—fond of disguising itself as a human and speaking human words—that had given him hope, passing down the forbidden art that could summon the dead.
He had once believed that as long as he mastered this forbidden art, he could prove that his master had been possessed, and summon back his master’s departed soul.
But because in the end he gained nothing from it, he had soon cast this bizarre encounter to the back of his mind.
Now that he thought about it, while this tree wasn’t very bright in the head, it wasn’t completely useless either.
“Very well, I do indeed have a wish.”
With considerable patience, Shen Zong used the nearby white snow to wipe the blade of his sword, sheathing it once more before speaking slowly,
“I accept your condition, but what I want is a secret art capable of allowing a person to fake their death and slip away undetected.”
You want to use fake death to escape your master’s control?
“No, quite the opposite.”
Shen Zong smiled faintly as he said, “I want to make the entire world firmly believe that Wen Zhihan is already dead—dead thoroughly and completely, so that neither soul-searching nor divination will ever find a trace of him still being alive.”
…?!
“Leaving-Man Tree, can you pull that off?”