Shen Zong jolted awake from his nightmare.
He considered it a nightmare, yet the moment his eyes truly opened, a scorching temperature surged from the depths of his heart.
His chest heaved violently, and his hands trembled slightly, though not out of fear from the nightmare.
He hastily looked toward the opposite side of the folding screen. Under the dim candlelight, only an empty bed remained.
Fortunately, Wen Zhihan had already gone out at some unknown time, leaving only him alone inside the cabin.
Shen Zong frowned slightly, lowering his gaze to inspect his robes.
Soiled?
A fleeting moment of bewilderment flashed across his hazy, post-sleep eyes, immediately replaced by post-awakening disgust.
He actually did it!
Taking advantage of the absence of others, he hurriedly rose to tidy up, cleaning both his person and his garments completely.
When everything was prepared and he pushed open the cabin door once more, Shen Zong realized that dusk had already settled outside, and the cloud-skiff had landed at the mooring port of Xuanyu Cang.
A paper talisman carrying a trace of spiritual power drifted down and hovered before him, bearing a message left behind by Wen Zhihan.
If disciple is awake, come to the spiritual spring Tianchi at the highest peak. The spiritual spring water here is the purest and most suitable for recuperation. Come and soak in it for a while.
Heh.
Shen Zong sneered softly, stepped quickly off the cloud-skiff, and tracked his way to the edge of the spiritual spring Tianchi.
The surroundings were utterly deserted, eerily tranquil. Pausing his steps as he sensed something amiss, he released his spiritual sense to investigate, then turned his gaze toward a specific spot.
Beneath the swirling steam, the light in a certain corner exhibited an unusual distortion.
Walking over briskly with a scan of his eyes, he accurately located several excessively smooth and rounded stones and kicked them away.
The instant the array core was shattered, a figure immersed in the water gradually materialized at the edge of the pool.
Shen Zong’s initial reaction was bored probing.
If one wanted to soak in a hot spring, then soak in it; what was the point of concealing oneself in the corner of the pool with an illusionary array? And such a clumsy stone array at that, those rocks clearly showed years of erosion by spring water, making them far too easy to see through.
Yet very soon, he realized something was wrong.
The array was broken, and he had found Wen Zhihan, but this person sat motionless with his eyes tightly shut, evidently entirely unaware of his arrival.
Once again, this completely unguarded posture.
Still not tired of acting?
Master.
Shen Zong called out unconcernedly, speaking with impatience, “Stop pretending, Wen Zhihan.”
The pale-faced young man sat unmoving in the water, his skin obscured only partially by cascading long hair, submerged from the chest down in steaming spiritual spring water without giving any reaction.
Kill him, kill him!
Why hesitate and delay making a move, could it be that you cannot bear to do it?!
Cowardly! Timid! Even if it is just an act, it still makes you feel a lingering reluctance, you are simply treating his momentary whim as a sweet dream.
You hope he will continue playing your good master, enjoying his hypocritical affection! Hahaha!
Shut up…
Watching this appearance of his, a wave of irritation churned deep within Shen Zong’s heart, and his inner demon broke free from suppression in an instant. In the blink of an eye, he attacked out of control, his right hand thrusting fiercely like an eagle’s talon toward that fair, fragile neck.
Unfavorable dark red brilliance flickered in the depths of his eyes, his teeth biting down hard as hatred hijacked his entire mind. “Shut up!”
Pfft.
Before his fingertips could touch skin, the swirling steam was stained with brilliant crimson.
Wen Zhihan abruptly spat out a mouthful of blood and collapsed limply into the pool water with a pale complexion.
Shen Zong froze for a moment, then stepped slowly into the pool water.
What was going on?
Just then, what had happened?
The water was shallow. Wen Zhihan leaned against the stones at the edge, his nose and mouth remaining above water even in unconsciousness, save for a face that was overly pale and a chest with barely any movement, making him look dead.
Yet how could Wen Zhihan so easily die?
Shen Zong found even the premise absurd, how could Wen Zhihan possibly have any exit from this world other than dying by his own hand? Raising his finger, trembling slightly due to the agitation of his inner demon, he slowly brought it close to Wen Zhihan’s neck, then pressed down against the carotid pulse.
Dead?
His heart felt hollow. In that split second, the long-churning inner demon unexpectedly subsided just like that.
The sound of splashing water rang out as Wen Zhihan suddenly stirred. Brushing away the strands of hair clinging to his face, he nonchalantly hauled himself back up into a sitting position within the pool before slowly opening his eyes.
His heartbeat and pulse seemed to recover full vitality at that very moment, growing even healthier and more robust than before.
Master?
Shen Zong had already withdrawn his hand, kneeling on one knee upon the edge stones of the pool as he tentatively called out.
Wen Zhihan gazed at him with deep, unblinking eyes, staring in utter silence while a clear droplet slid down the corner of his eye.
It looked as though he were weeping.
Yet how could Wen Zhihan cry? That must simply be stray spiritual spring water accidentally splashed onto his face.
While Shen Zong stood stunned, his master had already turned his face away, using the back of his hand to wipe the blood from his lips.
Wen Zhihan closed his eyes once more, introspecting into his sea of consciousness to confirm that his divine soul had achieved a better integration with his physical body.
Just as he had anticipated, soaking in this spiritual spring helped stabilize his divine soul, allowing him to recover a substantial amount of memories.
And precisely because of those memories, his blood had surged momentarily, causing him to cough up a mouthful of stagnant blood.
Yet it did not matter, he already knew how to proceed.
Rising to his feet, he stared fixedly at Shen Zong and spoke in a hoarse voice,
“It is over.”
Two hours prior, Wen Zhihan had just arrived at the spiritual spring.
The spiritual spring water of Xuanyu Cang was crystal clear, reflecting the white snow with a jade-like pale green hue. Natural steam rose continuously, meaning even mortals lacking cultivation could heal illnesses and prolong their lives by merely soaking in it.
After leaving the cloud-skiff, Wen Zhihan had regulated his breathing and recuperated within the pool water. Influenced by the spiritual spring water, his entire body finally felt considerably more comfortable, though he remained a long way from full recovery.
If he were to continue soaking for forty-nine days, perhaps it would suffice, but he had no desire to waste so much time.
Thus, only a single shortcut remained, the most efficient method that would least disturb others.
Standing at the center of the pool, Wen Zhihan slowly opened his eyes and resolved his determination.
Forming seals with one hand held before his chest, he channeled spiritual energy throughout his entire body, causing the dark hair at the nape of his neck to flutter without wind. Treading waist-deep through the pool water using a unique footwork, he stepped precisely onto key nodes in sequence while chanting under his breath.
Heavenly Dao is impermanent, fetal light is obscure.
Earth Mother is compassionate, elemental spirit in her abyss.
My fate is brilliant, profound essence at ease.
Rise!
As the final syllable dropped, Wen Zhihan flicked his sword fingers upward, and a golden array covering the entire spiritual pool rose from beneath his feet, illuminating the entire expanse of clear water.
A warm breeze swept up from the ground, and the pool water instantly broke its previous calm, churning into a violent vortex that swept myriad streams of purifying spiritual energy straight into Wen Zhihan’s dantian and sea of consciousness.
Frowning slightly, he sat cross-legged in meditation, enduring the splitting headache as he steadily harnessed the power within the pool water.
The array was his own creation, though its existence was no secret. It could accelerate his assimilation of the spiritual spring’s power and the repair of his divine soul by folds, yet it also imposed a massive burden on his body.
As spiritual radiance enveloped his entire form, the pool water gradually grew turbid.
Wen Zhihan’s aura sank slightly as he perceived a wave of warm exhilaration. His divine soul, previously fractured from the trials of the past eight years, received nourishment and repaired itself at astonishing speed.
Scenes of long-forgotten memories likewise floated to the surface, skimming rapidly before his eyes.
He remembered.
He had actually forgotten something so crucial.
Eight years ago, when his divine soul was accidentally squeezed out of the five elements and teetered on the brink of scattering into nothingness, an inexplicable force had suddenly descended and saved him.
That voice called itself a system, specializing in salvaging ownerless souls like his within the gaps of dimensional space-time, binding with elite and resilient individuals to carry out certain transactions.
It was precisely because of this system that Wen Zhihan had not dissipated entirely.
As early as their initial binding, the system had asked him:
What is your wish?
I want to return.
Most souls desire nothing more than to return after death, but I advise you to reconsider, because 90 percent of people ultimately change their minds.
Transporting him to a new space, the system taught him how to earn points through slaughter and combat while serializing the contents of a novel as a reward, feeding it to him chapter by chapter each day.
The novel was titled The Return, a cultivation-themed ascension and counter-attack story.
The protagonist of the novel was surnamed Shen, given name Zong, style name From-Yuan.
The more Wen Zhihan read, the more alarmed he grew, finally realizing through the familiar plots and settings that his original world was actually just a book.
And his disciple Shen Zong was precisely the protagonist of this book.
No, to be precise, the native plane you inhabited originated from a novel and gradually evolved.
The system explained to him.
Of course, there is no harm in viewing it that way. Look, you were merely a villain in the book serving to catalyze the protagonist’s growth and rise to the summit, rushing back is completely meaningless. Their endings are all predestined, good is rewarded, evil is punished, a happy ending for all.
Wen Zhihan, why must you return to such a boring plane? Why not accumulate more points instead? Across ten thousand planes, why worry about having no home?
Wen Zhihan merely stared at the novel and shook his head.
“No, I am going back.”
The main text of The Return mentioned Shen Zong, mentioned Cloudmist Peak, and mentioned the master Wen Zhihan, but the Wen Zhihan in those pages was not him. Instead, he was a transmigrator, a modern villain who fancied himself a transmigrator superior to ancient people.
That person had usurped his identity, his cultivation, and his face. Relying on the trust and admiration of his disciple Shen Zong, he repeatedly seized the protagonist’s fortune, subjecting him to endless humiliation and abuse, ultimately driving Shen Zong’s dao heart to shatter, breeding an inner demon, and compelling him to abandon the Dao for the Demonic path.
In the words of the novel text, he had darkened.
That usurper had been bullying and abusing his disciple, abusing him for a very, very long time and committing numerous outrageous acts.
Yet the system remained nonchalant beside his ear.
As the protagonist, this is a tempering he must endure. Precisely because of such a villainous master, he can darken and grow stronger, sparking infinite fighting spirit and potential! His ending is so brilliantly bright, are you not happy for him?
Wen Zhihan was not happy.
The novel casually glossed over the so-called humiliation and betrayal suffered by the protagonist, turning Shen Zong’s life into a tragic series of trials where everyone close to him paved the way before perishing, leaving an endless procession of hostile villains and cannon fodder.
Though called a protagonist, he lived every single day in immense difficulty and torment.
Wen Zhihan could not be happy.
Even if the protagonist lost everything, he ultimately became the strongest entity in the Three Realms, didn’t he? Even if the protagonist experienced despair time and again, wandering on the precipice of life and death, he grew stronger the more he faced adversity, forever favored by the heavenly dao, forever capable of staging a comeback.
Could everything be forgiven simply because the ending was good?
If Shen Zong were given a choice, would his disciple willingly accept such a destiny?