Shen Yunjin grasped the hilt, his brows furrowing.
“Heavenly Compassion” trembled slightly, overflowing with golden light.
Ji Yunlan’s gaze fell upon the Divine Work Pen lying to the side.
Shen Jianglin’s physical body had dissipated into thin air, but the Divine Work Pen had been left behind.
He picked up the ancient wooden pen and said, “This pen truly brings great harm. The Deer Immortal fell into a sickly depression because he could not capture the goddess’s likeness, and Shen Jianglin turned into a demon due to the same obsession. People are like passing water; even gods cannot reverse the flow.”
“It would be better to… cherish those before you sooner, to avoid such a wandering, miserable life.”
Ji Yunlan sighed deeply, lost in his own thoughts.
Before them, the sword light grew increasingly sharp, emitting a screeching hiss.
“Is it trying to remind us of something?” Xie Weiyuan’s gaze stalled.
“Perhaps we can try using it to slash open the Huangliang Scroll illusion,” Shen Yunjin suggested.
“It is an ancient divine artifact; it should at least be able to slash through a magical instrument refined by an evil cultivator.”
Shen Yunjin channeled the power of the Divine Seal into Heavenly Compassion, and the sword light struck down instantly.
With a bang, the illusion began to tremble, though it did not dissipate immediately. Shaking dust rained down like a waterfall from the nine heavens, before settling into stillness once more.
Xie Weiyuan was puzzled: “Is the Huangliang Scroll illusion truly this powerful? It cannot even be shattered by the Heavenly Compassion Sword?”
Suddenly, the soul of the Heavenly Compassion Sword seemed to break free from some restraint and replied: “Of course it cannot be shattered. Heavenly Compassion currently has a cracked sword soul; it is no longer as formidable as it was thirty thousand years ago.”
Shen Yunjin looked at it gravely: “Cracked… does this mean you have two souls?”
“Heavenly Compassion was originally the pinnacle of all spiritual weapons in the world, wielding twin sword souls. Now that only I remain, my strength has been more than halved. I could not open this Huangliang Scroll, otherwise I would not have been trapped here by Shen Jianglin for so long.”
“Where is your other half?”
Heavenly Compassion paused: “I do not know. Perhaps there will be a day of reunion.”
Xie Weiyuan pondered this: “Then, can you still extract the Divine Seal?”
Heavenly Compassion scoffed: “That is merely nonsense concocted by the demons and Daoists of the cultivation world. The Divine Seal is bound to the heart and born of the same soul. There is no person, and certainly no spiritual weapon, in this world capable of extracting it.”
Shen Yunjin swept a cool glance at him: “If that is so… do you know how to break the dream of the Huangliang Scroll?”
“Perhaps we could try replacing the other half of the sword soul with another spiritual weapon.” It paused: “The Heavenly Compassion Sword is a dual-soul sword of water and fire; only a spiritual weapon with a Water Spiritual Root can serve as a replacement.”
Shen Yunjin’s heart skipped a beat. Wasn’t Xie Weiyuan a Water Spiritual Root…
His gaze fell upon the man’s white robes; the Cloud-Hidden Flute was currently silent at the man’s waist, emitting a faint, ghostly glow.
Heavenly Compassion added: “However, the method of fusing a spiritual weapon with a sword soul is extremely treacherous. Should the other soul be incompatible or fail to merge, Heavenly Compassion will backfire, and the sword-wielder will be severely injured—at best, their meridians will be damaged; at worst, their spiritual root will be utterly destroyed.”
Silence fell for a long moment. Shen Yunjin hesitated; entrusting one’s life to someone with whom one had a history of enmity was a decision no one could make easily.
“Is there no other way?” he asked.
“…This is the only way to try.”
Ji Yunlan stood to the side, clutching his robes and biting his lip, lost in thought.
Xie Weiyuan, however, seemed to have no such burden. He unhooked the Cloud-Hidden Flute: “Then let us begin quickly.”
“Wait…” Shen Yunjin spoke suddenly, though he did not know what to say. Could he tell him he didn’t trust Xie Weiyuan? Yet, what choice did he have? They were at a dead end; without trusting him, there was not a sliver of hope.
“What is it?” Xie Weiyuan looked at him in confusion. Suddenly, it was as if he had a flash of insight; his gaze turned piercing, and the atmosphere in the air turned frigid: “You do not trust me.”
The man went silent for a moment, appearing much colder, his tone reverting to its previous sharpness: “As you wish. If you do not trust me, let Ji Yunlan do it.”
Xie Weiyuan’s eyes turned icy, and he went to place the Cloud-Hidden Flute into Ji Yunlan’s hands.
Shen Yunjin’s fingers clenched. He was struggling internally, judging the situation, feeling dazed—uncertain which answer was correct.
In recent days, truth be told, Xie Weiyuan had not treated him poorly.
But for years, ever since he became Xie Weiyuan’s disciple, there had not been a single day he did not despise this man.
Yet, every time he was forced to endure the slaps, that man would somehow stuff a sweet jujube or a candied preserve into his hands.
Shen Yunjin had originally wanted to ignore these “candied preserves,” but he desired them desperately…
“Master.” He paused, then called out. The repression and hesitation in his heart seemed to pour out with that single word.
Ji Yunlan, who had already accepted the flute, froze at that sound for a brief moment. He smiled and said: “Let Master do it. This Cloud-Hidden Flute is, after all, Master’s spiritual weapon, and it may not be willing to submit to me.”
Xie Weiyuan was stunned by that inexplicable call and looked toward Shen Yunjin.
Shen Yunjin did not know why he had acted on a whim, so he turned around, not wanting Xie Weiyuan to see his face.
The two said nothing more. Shen Yunjin used his fingertips to coat Heavenly Compassion in a layer of faint light. He closed his eyes and leaped into the illusory dream.
Before long, a clear, ethereal flute melody rose from behind him, wrapping around Shen Yunjin just as it had in the Shen residence, amidst the raging fire. His body trembled slightly, feeling thousands of strands of water spirit sweeping toward his side.
He paused suddenly. This aura…
It seemed he had smelled it in some dream, whether real or false.
Shen Yunjin dared not ponder further. He held his breath, and in the instant the water spirit filled the Heavenly Compassion sword soul, he slashed the blade down with all his might.
This sound entered the Great Void; this sword shattered ten thousand bodies.
The dream shattered into thousands of pieces before his eyes, accompanied by the screeching of a collapsing world, falling layer by layer. The residual radiance shed by the Huangliang Scroll left their eyes burning with pain.
When they returned to reality once more, all that they saw had turned to dust and past memories. They had returned to the Jiuyou Sect.
“Master!” After Ji Yunlan’s exclamation, the flute music ceased abruptly.
Shen Yunjin’s heart trembled. He turned around in a panic to look at the man behind him, only to find that Xie Weiyuan could not even hold the Cloud-Hidden Flute, letting it roll to the ground, its former brilliance lost, just like its owner.
Xie Weiyuan knelt on the ground, a trail of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. He had forcibly broken the restrictions of the Huangliang Scroll twice, and his spiritual root was severely damaged.
Yet, Xie Weiyuan refused to lose consciousness. He stubbornly straightened himself, clutching his aching heart.
Shen Yunjin did not hesitate, walking over to Xie Weiyuan and lifting him into his arms.
He had just stood up when he felt Xie Weiyuan’s resistance.
Shen Yunjin lowered his gaze. Xie Weiyuan’s peach-blossom eyes were half-closed, looking incredibly weak, yet he still found the strength to push Shen Yunjin away.
“Let me go; I can walk myself.” Xie Weiyuan tried desperately to break free of Shen Yunjin’s hold.
“You are injured; don’t move around.” Shen Yunjin’s tone was impatient, his hands still gripping Xie Weiyuan’s robes tightly.
The person in his arms seemed to be trembling slightly. He saw a fragility and confusion he had never witnessed before.
Amidst the shifting of breath, he transferred the power of his Divine Seal to Xie Weiyuan.
But Xie Weiyuan resisted it, even while enduring the pain.
Shen Yunjin furrowed his brows, his gaze falling upon the red-rimmed corners of the man’s eyes.
He was confused. Why was Xie Weiyuan so stubborn? He was already in this state, yet he still refused him.
“…I don’t want you.” Xie Weiyuan wanted to say more but held back. Finally, he turned his face away, his pale lips trembling as he spoke the words stiffly.
His voice was shaky and muffled no longer sharp and cold, nor as impenetrable as usual carrying a hint of heartache and a softness that made one’s imagination run wild.
Shen Yunjin’s breath deepened, but he was clumsy with words and didn’t know how to comfort someone.
After pondering for a long time, and feeling that his previous words had indeed been hurtful, he could only offer a blunt: “Apologies… it won’t happen again next time.”
Actually, Shen Yunjin did not trust him, he could accept that. But hearing it said aloud still filled him with a faint sadness. Yet, that phrase “it won’t happen again next time” caused an inexplicable strangeness to well up in his heart.
What does “won’t happen again next time” mean?!!
Why do I feel like I’m watching a couple fighting and acting temperamental on the street in the 21st century?
The dullness in Xie Weiyuan’s chest suddenly turned into irritation and fury. Such absurd fantasies gave him goosebumps, so he struggled even more violently, almost slapping Shen Yunjin across the face.
Ji Yunlan, who was standing nearby, urged: “Master, your injuries are severe; stop being angry with Senior Brother Shen.”
“…”
He felt as though his injuries had worsened; he was so angry he felt like vomiting three liters of blood on the spot.
Fortunately, they had emerged not far from the Cloud-Hidden Hall. Soon, Shen Yunjin carried him inside. Xie Weiyuan hurriedly covered his face, fearing being seen by the others along the way.
He had no choice, he still cared about his dignity…
The guard disciple was sleeping at the door, as he had for a thousand years. Sensing footsteps, he hurriedly straightened up, still half-asleep.
The sun was high, and it was only after the three passed by him that he yawned deeply.
And then, recalling something, he spun his head around to look at the silhouettes of the group moving away.
No way, what did I just see?!
Weren’t those Linghua-jun and Shen Yunjin?
Who was carrying whom?
…
The typically ruthless Sect Master being carried like a delicate flower in Shen Yunjin’s arms?
Can these two really be this intimate?
The young disciple slapped himself, thinking his daydreams had not yet ended.
Linghua-jun not whipping Shen Yunjin into a pulp is already a great mercy.
Wait a minute… isn’t the point that Linghua-jun and the others have actually broken out of the Huangliang Scroll illusion?
Understanding this, he slapped his forehead and began to dash at top speed to report to the various elders.
On Shen Yunjin’s side, he had just placed Xie Weiyuan on the bed when he discovered that the man had inexplicably fallen asleep. His face kept switching between pale and flushed, as if he were having some kind of nightmare.
Ji Yunlan frowned and tucked the corner of the quilt for Xie Weiyuan.
“Get out!”
Xie Weiyuan’s cold brows rose sharply, and he blurted out a vague sentence in his sleep.
Ji Yunlan was so startled by the movement that he backed away.
Shen Yunjin then stepped forward, wanting to check Xie Weiyuan’s injuries, but the man let out another angry roar: “You get out too!”
Just what is this person dreaming about?
Shen Yunjin pressed his lips together, his expression unreadable.