Pushing open the dilapidated wooden door, Shen Yunjin saw a painting.
The woman in the painting had a beautiful face and a sweet, delicate smile, holding a small round fan in her hand. Every stroke depicted an ethereal, goddess-like posture, so vivid she seemed like a divine being descended from the nine heavens, the entire painting shimmering with a faint, flowing light.
Ji Yunlan murmured in a daze: “Truly divine work; this must be the ‘Fairy in the Painting’.”
Everyone was captivated by the mesmerizing painting, so much so that no one noticed the wizened, withered old man sitting in the corner.
“You have come.” The man held a brush, his hoarse voice emerging from the shadows.
It was only then that Shen Yunjin noticed the hunched old man sitting there.
His heart, which had been silent, suddenly stirred. He could not believe it, nor did he dare speak the answer in his heart, so he asked, deceiving himself: “Who are you?”
“Barely four years have passed, yet you do not recognize your own flesh and blood.”
He sighed, his palm rubbing the shaft of the brush, and said: “I think you were cuter when you were small. No matter how many times you kicked me away, you would still come over and hug my leg to beg for affection; now, you have become so distant.”
Shen Jianglin’s hair was streaked with gray, his face aged, and his skin shriveled and cracked. Though he was at the prime of his life, he looked like a withered, rotten tree drained of its essence.
Only a few years had passed, yet a mountain of years lay between them; it was a transformation so strange it inspired fear.
Shen Yunjin was stunned: “You have killed so many people—how do you have the face to say this to me?”
Shen Jianglin’s teetering body trembled, and a hair-raising laughter seemed to emerge from his gut: “Speaking of harming others, father and son are cut from the same cloth. What qualification do you have to judge your father?”
“Besides… cough, cough, I merely killed a few disciples in the sect who bullied you. You could say I was sticking up for you.”
Upon hearing this, both Xie Weiyuan and Shen Yunjin stiffened, instantly realizing the truth.
“You are not a projection of the Huangliang Scroll!”
“Not bad; you are quite clever. Worthy of being my child.”
“When did you get in here!”
Shen Jianglin smiled slightly: “Long before you knew about the Huangliang Scroll, I was already here waiting. Unfortunately, you realized it too late. Now that the third layer of the dream has been activated, your consciousness and soul shall soon belong to me entirely.”
He sighed mournfully, turning his face to look at the Fairy in the Painting, his murky eyes filled with obsession: “After such a long time, isn’t it destined that the Divine Seal will return to me? Why persist like a moth to a flame, struggling like a trapped beast?”
He finished with a low chuckle, his words laden with subtext.
Jiang Yuan, confused by their cryptic exchange, asked: “What Huangliang Scroll? What are you all talking about?”
…
Xie Weiyuan’s gaze fell upon the brush in the man’s hand, his brow furrowing: “Who gave you the Divine Work Pen?”
Shen Jianglin looked at the brush, stunned: “If I told you directly, wouldn’t that make me seem too stupid?”
Xie Weiyuan said coldly: “You began plotting against us long ago. You deliberately used the Divine Work Pen to paint the Fairy in the Painting, released her, and lured us into the Huangliang Scroll to devour Shen Yunjin’s consciousness. You are truly despicable!”
“Despicable? What a fine word. Linghua-jun, you have spent half a lifetime plotting against others; did you ever imagine you would be outmaneuvered by me? If you hadn’t cast that Symbiotic Curse on Yuzhu, I might have spared your life. But since you insisted on opposing me, I had no choice but to set a trap with the Huangliang Scroll so you could taste the bitterness of your own devices.”
“I wonder how delicious a high-grade Water Spiritual Root like yours… would be when consumed.”
The hoarse laughter sounded particularly harsh in the straw hut.
Shen Yunjin stepped forward involuntarily, glaring fiercely at Shen Jianglin: “Don’t even think about it!”
Shen Jianglin shook his head: “We are father and son, after all… Although I do not value family ties, I did help you punish those who bullied you. Why don’t you thank your father instead of siding with an outsider?”
“You killed those people only to supplement your own roots and bones! If you truly cared for me, or for her, how could you be so wrong over and over again!”
“Is that so?” Shen Jianglin began to laugh manically: “Why do I feel such satisfaction watching the fingers that once slapped me being chopped off one by one?”
Xie Weiyuan instinctively pulled his hand back.
Shen Yunjin enunciated clearly: “I will not let you succeed.”
“Sigh, you really did inherit Yuzhu’s personality obstinate and inflexible.” His gaze fell on Shen Yunjin’s face, softening with a strange tenderness: “However, it is fortunate that your face looks like hers; it is quite pleasing to the eye.”
“Shut up! You are not worthy of mentioning her name! You are the one who killed her. If you hadn’t been so obsessed, she would never have sought out the Symbiotic Curse!” Shen Yunjin’s repressed anger finally boiled over.
Xie Weiyuan said coldly: “You consume flesh and bone, slaughtering so many Spiritual Slaves, and then you murder my disciples. Today, you will not escape.”
Shen Jianglin lifted his brows with sarcasm: “Linghua-jun? You certainly have the gall to speak so righteously. Don’t think I don’t know your intentions for taking him in.”
He lifted a trembling finger toward Shen Yunjin: “I advise you not to be overconfident. In the illusions of the Huangliang Scroll, without him, what do you have to fight me with?”
Father and son stood face to face, yet they were as strangers.
Xie Weiyuan sneered: “You are but a mortal at the end of your rope; how dare you be so arrogant.”
Shen Jianglin stared coldly at Xie Weiyuan: “I am a mortal, it is true. But do not forget—she is not dead yet.”
She?
Who was Shen Jianglin talking about? Wasn’t Wen Yuzhu already dead? He had buried her with his own hands; how could she still be alive?
“Come to think of it, I must thank Linghua-jun for preserving this physical body for me, otherwise Yuzhu would not have been reborn.”
Shen Jianglin crooked a finger, and from behind a screen walked a woman identical to Wen Yuzhu. She stood before the painting, looking like a goddess stepped out of the canvas.
Her complexion was pale, her lips cool and colorless; she did not look like a living person, but rather like a fluttering piece of paper standing in place.
It was clear that Shen Jianglin had placed the soul of the Fairy in the Painting into Wen Yuzhu’s dead body.
“This is not her at all! You actually let another soul inhabit her body! You will not even let her rest in peace after death!” Shen Yunjin gritted his teeth.
“And what of it? As long as I possess your Divine Seal, even if she reaches the gates of Yama or the Naihe Bridge, whether in the highest heaven or the deepest hell, I will drag her back!”
“Delusional.”
Shen Jianglin said no more. He slowly stood up, the wooden chair creaking as he rose.
“Your leg… it is healed?” Xie Weiyuan asked in surprise.
“I have the disciples with decent spiritual roots from Linghua-jun’s sect to thank for that; otherwise, I would not have recovered so quickly.”
He turned and picked up his brush, seemingly pouring all his strength into this final stroke, leaving a dirty ink smudge on the face of the goddess in the painting.
“Since the brush cannot capture the goddess’s beauty, I shall fill it with human lives.”
“My dear wife, go. Kill them for me.” Shen Jianglin chuckled sinisterly.
The “Wen Yuzhu” beside him suddenly sprouted sinister black patterns across her features, ghost-like. In a few flashes of motion, she rushed toward the four of them. The woman with bright eyes and white teeth from his memories had become a vicious, ghastly specter, like a beast thirsting for blood, impatient to devour her prey.
Xie Weiyuan tried to use his flute as a shield, but was pushed back by his opponent’s overwhelming force.
“What now, Linghua-jun? Can you still fight me?”
Shen Jianglin stood before them, his tone filled with clear mockery.
Shen Yunjin’s expression darkened. He stepped forward to intercept the “Wen Yuzhu” for Xie Weiyuan. He delivered a horizontal punch, forcing the opponent back, but the creature attacked again as if she felt no pain.
He could not bring himself to strike a lethal blow, and his fighting style remained purely defensive. Several times, he was almost shredded by “Wen Yuzhu’s” sharp claws.
Behind him, Shen Jianglin let out a sinister laugh, his pale lips slowly spitting out two words: “Enter the dream.”
Golden threads from the Fairy’s eyes instantly infiltrated his consciousness.
Shen Yunjin’s mind became a chaotic mess. His vision blurred, and he clutched his aching head, stumbling back several steps and nearly falling to the ground.
“Stop struggling. The Huangliang Scroll has already begun to consume your soul; you cannot escape now.”
“Shen Yunjin! What has happened to you?”
His consciousness gradually faded, and he could only hear a distant call.
The situation on the field shifted instantly; Xie Weiyuan and Ji Yunlan were restrained by the Huangliang Scroll and had no way to resist using spiritual power.
“Yunjin, go and tie them up.”
Shen Yunjin rose numbly and turned toward Xie Weiyuan. He picked up a hemp rope and forcibly restrained the man’s wrists.
Xie Weiyuan raged: “Wake up! Do not follow his commands!”
He looked up, only to see the gray, vacant pupils of the person before him; it seemed his consciousness had been completely invaded.
“Do not waste your effort. He will not wake up. When I use the Heavenly Compassion Sword to extract his Divine Seal, none of you will escape.”
“Heavenly Compassion Sword? That spiritual weapon has been missing for years; it is in your hands?”
“It has indeed been missing for years, but that is because I brought the Red Feather that seals it into the Huangliang Scroll. Though I spent several years and failed to open it, now… with the Divine Seal, it should not be too difficult.”
Ji Yunlan looked alarmed: “Who exactly is behind you? You even know of the Red Feather and the Heavenly Compassion?”
“This little disciple looks quite good. He seems to be a Water Spiritual Root just right to be boiled in a pot with your Master.”
“…”
Shen Yunjin held Xie Weiyuan’s hands together and bound them tightly.
Xie Weiyuan struggled a few times but found it useless. Shen Yunjin, appearing like an idiot, wrapped the hemp rope around his wrists, layer by layer.
“It hurts like hell!” Xie Weiyuan glared at him.
“Oh.” Shen Yunjin actually managed to speak, nodding, and loosened the pressure on his hands.
He stared vacantly at the finished flower-knot, then glanced at Xie Weiyuan, inexplicably blurting out: “Truly beautiful.”
“?”
How is this man still acting like a lecher even when his consciousness has been invaded?
Shen Yunjin turned around and proceeded to bind Ji Yunlan and Jiang Yuan in the same fashion.