Though Dragon Valley appeared small at a glance, its actual area was vast, possessing a desolate expanse that made mountains look close while taking forever to reach.
For several consecutive days, Wen Zhihan pursued the hidden demonic cultivators while Shen Zong grew increasingly taciturn, trailing quietly by his side. When action was required, he lent a hand; when it was not, he simply watched from the sidelines.
After each demonic cultivator was apprehended, whether sealed, slain in battle, or stripped entirely of their cultivation, Wen Zhihan would seek out a nearby spot for the two of them to rest.
At such moments, Shen Zong would transform from a silent appendage back into a docile, obedient disciple, diligently brewing a pot of fine tea for his master and foraging for wild fruits and vegetables nearby to prepare a meal.
His culinary skills were exceptional. Carrying a supply of savory spices and seasoned salt, he could turn even seemingly unremarkable greens into a flavorful dish.
He also prepared two distinct varieties of tea, specially brought from Qiongwu Peak and Xuanyucang: daytime tea from Qiongwu Peak, refreshing like a spring breeze brushing the face, instantly sweeping away fatigue; and evening tea from Xuanyucang, warm like a hearth embraced to the chest, soothing the spirit and wonderfully aiding sleep.
His methods were equally adept. Masking his actions behind the rich aroma of spices or tea, he effortlessly slipped the daily dosage of chronic medication into the cups and bowls unnoticed, seizing the moments when Wen Zhihan was most exhausted and relaxed, using casual chatter to scatter his attention.
Shen Zong would always watch him intently, swallowing everything he prepared, bite by sip. Perhaps because the plan progressed with such smooth precision, his gaze sometimes carried a rare, soft warmth, akin to the contented satisfaction of watching a prey obediently walk into a snare.
Wen Zhihan, entirely oblivious, simply returned the look with a smile.
Clutching the warm tea, his appetite, dormant for years, was reawakened. With his five senses clear and unobstructed, simple joys came easily.
A carefree sense of warmth abruptly took root within him.
Years prior, he would never have imagined he could partake of food prepared by his disciple’s own hands. The tea transformed into a warm current filling his stomach, bringing a pleasant drowsiness to his entire body.
Outside the window, dusk cast a dusty pink glow across the mountains. Delighted by the sight, Wen Zhihan gently swirled the tea in his cup, pausing a moment before taking another drink.
“A-Yuan.”
Shen Zong’s heart leaped, nearly tricking him into thinking his drugging had been exposed.
Yet Wen Zhihan merely praised the enchanting scenery, saying with a smile, “I am deeply grateful for today.”
Grateful that he stubbornly chose to return here, grateful that he did not give up nor perish in a foreign land.
He had expected to find release only when everything settled into dust, never anticipating that merely spending a few peaceful days of ordinary master-disciple routine, sitting together like this to admire the scenery, would bring such immense joy.
Having tasted today’s warmth, he harbored no further regrets.
“In two more days, we will be able to return.”
“Mn.”
Wen Zhihan lowered his gaze from the scenery.
He was lying.
He still wasn’t quite accustomed to the feeling of lying to his disciple.
Yet this too was a necessary component. To capture Bai Chixin, to alter his disciple’s destiny, to defy the heavens and rewrite fate, he had to do this.
He cared little whether his efforts ended in failure; at worst, his soul would scatter, which was no different from returning to his original end. Having already died once, what reason had he to fear?
Yet even in death, he would not willingly submit to his fate!
He was Wen Zhihan, Shen Zong’s master, a peak master, an immortal of a century’s cultivation. His Dao heart was tougher and more resilient than ever before, even in death, he would drag Bai Chixin’s lingering soul down with him and exact the heaviest possible toll from the Heavenly Dao.
It was merely contending with the heavens and gambling with fate. The odds were slim and the risks high, but this was hardly his first time.
Wen Zhihan let out a soft laugh, raising his cup to drain it in a single draught, savoring the simple tea with the appreciation of fine wine.
The Leaving-Man Tree could channel news from the outside world. Having monitored it for days, he confirmed that shortly, everyone would uncover the existence of the mastermind.
Bai Chixin’s lingering soul was meddling in the shadows, deliberately instigating misunderstandings, trying to frame either him or Shen Zong as the principal culprit.
Following that, Shen Zong would find himself besieged by the righteous factions, just as in the original novel.
Earlier, he had secretly laid down a protective barrier around the perimeter of Dragon Valley.
Soon, a massive coalition would assemble to hunt them down, and the barrier would buy him precious time.
As for Bai Chixin, if his calculations were correct, that wretch would infiltrate the ranks to personally ensure everything proceeded smoothly.
Wen Zhihan made up his mind. If capturing Bai Chixin’s lingering soul in time proved impossible, he would shoulder the blame in Shen Zong’s stead.
He already possessed sufficient evidence to clear his name.
Wen Zhihan picked up the teapot at his side, poured a fresh cup of tea for Shen Zong, and watched with a faint smile as he drank it.
Whether it was apology or guilt, once all of this concluded, he would repay it bit by bit.
Just not right now.
For him at this moment, the absolute priority was ensuring Shen Zong ingested enough of the talisman-infused water.
The talisman water was a special concoction Wen Zhihan had prepared in advance.
Colorless, odorless, difficult to detect, and devoid of negative side effects, it was a formula Wen Zhihan had fortuitously acquired.
Its effects were invoked purely through incantations rather than direct physical poisoning, and its greatest convenience lay in the fact that its activation obeyed the user’s will.
Should Wen Zhihan choose otherwise, it need never be triggered at all.
To guarantee absolute perfection, he would conceal Shen Zong beforehand in a place no one could ever find, shielding him using the finest methods the world had to offer.
By then, Shen Zong would merely need to dream a long, long dream, and upon waking once more, the skies would have cleared.
Following a brief rest, Wen Zhihan tracked down the final demonic cultivator hiding in Dragon Valley. Driven into a desperate impasse, that demonic cultivator met his end beneath Shen Zong’s blade.
After disposing of the corpse and settling Shen Zong down to rest, initially harboring mild anxieties, though Shen Zong rapidly recovered his spirits and eagerly set about preparing food, Wen Zhihan felt a brief moment of ease.
With a soft click, the wooden door sealed off the view.
Standing outside the door, Shen Zong shed every trace of his smile.
From a moment ago, his inner demon had grown difficult to suppress. The clamorous noise ringing in his ears never ceased for a second, forcing him to clutch a tiny razor-thin blade tightly in his hand just to maintain his grip on sanity.
Slaying that demonic cultivator was merely an outlet for venting, touching blood and ending the life of such a weak, incompetent creature had prevented his inner demon from spiraling completely out of control and exposing him.
He could not afford to lose control just yet.
Feigning the task of food preparation, he forced himself to calm his mind, though the agitation lingered.
At that inopportune moment, the Leaving-Man Tree secretly notified him that those fools outside had initiated their move.
Wen Zhihan had deliberately brought him here and kept a suffocatingly close watch over him these past few days, likely to position him conveniently as a scapegoat to be captured alive by the righteous cultivators.
This time, however, he refused to fall back into passivity.
With a subtle twitch of his fingers, Shen Zong’s gaze grew ice-cold. He had laid low for a long time, making meticulous, airtight preparations.
When the time came, he would slay Wen Zhihan in full view of everyone, and then reclaim his peak.
His head pounded with blinding pain. Letting out a heavy, turbid breath, Shen Zong’s mind, warped by the influence of his inner demon, uncontrollably dredged up fragments of memories from his past life.
He too had tried, time and time again, to prove the truth of the body possession, yet no matter what he did, he could produce no evidence.
He had appealed to others repeatedly, trying time and again to prove that Wen Zhihan was no longer the master of his youth. He wanted to summon back his master’s true soul, wanting to find a single person in this vast world who would believe his words.
His master had saved his life, brought him into the immortal sect, raised him to adulthood, acting as both master and father. In his eyes, his master was a true immortal descended to earth, yet warmer and more real than any legend, allowing no one the slightest insult. When he first witnessed his master yielding to greed and turning to evil, he stubbornly convinced himself that it could not possibly be his master.
Yet no one believed his deductions regarding the possession; people simply knew that Peak Master Wen had suffered a deviation in cultivation and undergone a drastic change in temperament.
He watched helplessly as one person after another grew disillusioned and enraged with Wen Zhihan, seeing through the hypocrite’s facade. Friendships severed, families scattered; Qiongwu Peak lost its perpetual spring, left with nothing but sycophants and sinister schemes.
He heard shrill laughter howling upward as the shadow of his inner demon completely consumed him, while his true self grew transparent and thin, drifting right out of his physical shell.
The inner demon drove the scabbard left behind by his master deep into the muddy pit, treating it like damning evidence meant to be hidden from the light.
Rest in peace, Master.
Until every single person in this world forgot the original character and demeanor of Wen Zhihan, until even Wen Zhihan’s only disciple gave up on reclaiming him.
Shen Zong realized that his master had truly died at this very moment.
Ha.
Go on and hate, Shen Zong.
The inner demon whispered seductively in his ear, pulling Shen Zong back from his memories to lucidity.
By the time he snapped out of it, he had already prepared a flask of fine wine.
Substituting wine for tea would suffice just as well.
The self-righteous avengers gathering outside to encircle and besiege them were growing closer by the minute. Consider this a farewell.
This would be his final shared drink with Wen Zhihan.
Seeing him push the door open bearing wine rather than tea, surprise flickered across Wen Zhihan’s face, though he readily and calmly accepted today’s little surprise.
He chuckled, gesturing for Shen Zong to sit. “Since when did you learn to drink?”
Shen Zong paused mid-motion as he prepared to pour for him. “Master jests. You were the one who taught me when I came of age.”
“Ah, right.”
Calculating the time, Wen Zhihan figured this was likely another of Bai Chixin’s handiworks. “I forgot.”
Lifting his cup, his hand suddenly jerked, spilling half the contents.
The barrier had been breached.
No matter, time remained.
Let him finish this reunion cup with Shen Zong before facing the tribulation left behind by the Heavenly Dao.
“Master?”
“It’s nothing.”
Wen Zhihan casually clinked cups with him. “Shen Zong, if one day you discovered that Master had kept secrets from you, more than one, would you—”
“Master possesses profound strategic foresight. Even if you kept secrets, it must be for a profound and weighty reason. How could your disciple turn around and blame Master?”
Though it was the most flawless answer imaginable, Wen Zhihan felt no real sense of relief.
Silently, he raised his cup and drained it in one swallow.
“On the contrary, Master.”
Shen Zong immediately poured him another cup, a radiant smile gracing his features. “Whatever achievements this disciple possesses today are entirely thanks to Master’s guidance. If one day Master refused to teach me or offer even a word of reprimand, I fear I would worry that I had grown unaccustomed to it.”
Wen Zhihan froze, a mild pang of heartache stirring within his chest, though he masked it behind a tranquil smile. “Never.”
As long as he drew breath, as long as his soul remained unscattered, he would never wash his hands of Shen Zong.
Yet, though countless words crowded his breast, he found them unspeakable, feeling only that today’s wine was uncommonly intoxicating. He murmured softly, “A-Yuan, you have possessed a pure and upright heart since youth. If you desire to attain the Dao and achieve immortality, none can bar your path. You are still young, and your road ahead is long. Master believes that even if I am no longer here one day, relying on your own strength, your immortal path will remain broad and unhindered without issue.”
“Is that so?”
Shen Zong poured cup after cup of fine wine down his master’s throat. As his expression softened into a posture of pristine, harmless innocence, his hazy gaze wandered over, resting upon the surface of Wen Zhihan’s form yet appearing to gaze at someone else entirely.
“If that day truly comes, the entire world will know that my master is the Master of Qiongwu Peak, the finest, most benevolent immortal in this realm, and that will never change.”
“That is unimportant.”
Wen Zhihan shook his head with a chuckle.
No, on the contrary, that was the only thing that mattered.
Shen Zong lowered his eyelids, offering no reply.
Wen Zhihan gazed deeply at him, watching his disciple’s features, which had long since shed their youthful immaturity. Through him, he seemed to glimpse the storm-unscathed child of years past, and likewise the young man who stood weeping before him when guided by the system into a dream.
His throat felt constricted, his voice slightly hoarse.
“A-Yuan, remember this. No matter what occurs in the future, Master will always stand on your side.”
Rumble.
At the edge of the firmament, the supreme elders and masters of the various sects joined forces to summon a thunder strike, shattering the layered barriers.
“That unorthodox cultivator is indeed hiding right here! Fellow Daoists, follow me and demand a clear account face-to-face!”