The lingering rays of the setting sun spilled over the mottled bluestone slabs of the arena, stretching Wu Yan’s shadow very long.
Although the Grand Competition had concluded, the air still held the un-dispersed ripples of spiritual energy and a faint scent of blood.
The crowd had not yet fully dispersed, and fragmented whispers buzzed in Wu Yan’s ears like flies.
“That Wu Yan… did she really beat Zhao Wuji?”
“She won, but didn’t you see her? She’s covered in blood, looking like a ghost.”
“Shh, keep it down. Her eyes are terrifying right now…”
Wu Yan heard these voices, but she did not look back, nor did she stop walking.
Zhao Wuji, looking complex, watched Wu Yan’s swaying figure and instinctively wanted to step forward to support her.
However, before he could even get close, a cold, unapproachable aura erupted from Wu Yan like a tide, forcing him back three feet.
Wu Yan was not a social person. For someone who had been fighting her just a moment ago and had even injured her, she could not yet accept his kindness, even if he had apologized before they started.
The road from the Main Peak to Zhuqu Peak had never felt as distant as it did today.
With every step, the wound on her left shoulder felt as if it were being torn apart.
“Tsk, tsk, little Wu Yan, why must you suffer so? If you had just let me take over the body, beating that Zhao Wuji would have been easy. Why did you have to push yourself so hard?”
The inner Wu Yan laughed as she floated above Wu Yan’s head, her red pupils reflecting Wu Yan’s lonely figure.
Wu Yan did not answer her.
She simply adjusted the Soul-Nourishing Jade slightly, making it so the inner Wu Yan could no longer enjoy the comfort it provided.
“Hey, why are you like this? I’m kindly showing concern, and you repay me with ingratitude?”
Sensing that she had been cut off from the nourishment of the Soul-Nourishing Jade, the inner Wu Yan floated in front of Wu Yan’s face in annoyance, her face almost pressing against Wu Yan’s.
“Hmph, forget it. Considering my body took such a heavy injury, I won’t argue with you today~”
The inner Wu Yan rolled her eyes but stopped causing trouble.
To avoid the crowds, Wu Yan specifically chose a small path that usually only she traveled.
It was the Purple Bamboo Path that connected the Main Peak to Zhuqu Peak, and it was rarely frequented by others.
At least, after walking it so many times, Wu Yan had only ever seen herself on this path.
The wind picked up.
The purple bamboo leaves swayed gently in the evening breeze, making subtle sounds that seemed like whispers or whimpers. The dim light filtered through the dense bamboo leaves, mottled and jagged, cutting the ground into countless tiny light shadows.
Wu Yan’s tense nerves relaxed slightly, and she prepared to quicken her pace when suddenly—
“Burp…”
A long, loud burp, carrying the heavy scent of low-quality wine dregs, came without warning from above.
“Good swordplay… truly good swordplay…”
The voice was drunken and slurred, yet it possessed a strange, piercing clarity, sounding as if it were whispered directly into one’s ear. “Fine swordplay indeed. Even thirty years ago, this Delusion Breaker of yours would have been considered a rare and masterful move.”
Wu Yan’s footsteps came to a dead stop, and she stiffened like a startled cat, the hair on her body standing on end.
Though her Divine Sense was currently damaged, her alertness as a Golden Core cultivator remained. She hadn’t sensed anyone here at all just now!
She instinctively gripped the blood-stained longsword in her hand, her muscles tightening as she suddenly looked up.
Standing at the very tip of a purple bamboo no thicker than an arm was a person.
It was an old man.
He wore a tattered Taoist robe whose original color was indistinguishable, covered in grease and unknown wine stains. His hair was a mess, looking like a bird’s nest that had been struck by lightning, with several pieces of dry grass stuck in it. One hand held a massive Red-skinned Gourd that was heavily worn, while his other hand dangled loosely in the air, swaying with the movement of the bamboo.
His seemingly clouded, half-closed old eyes peered through his messy hair, staring down at Wu Yan with a half-smile.
The Piaomiao Sect’s Ninth Elder—Mo Wentian.
Known in the sect as the Wine Madman.
There were many rumors about him.
Some said he was the illegitimate son of the previous Sect Master.
Others said he was a peerless genius who had crippled his own cultivation due to a broken heart.
Wu Yan only knew that this Ninth Elder was usually eccentric and never participated in sect affairs.
No one knew his true cultivation level; all she knew was that even the current Peak Masters had to respectfully call him “Senior Uncle” when they saw him. This was definitely a dangerous person.
“Greetings, Ninth Senior Uncle.”
Wu Yan took a deep breath, enduring the pain to salute. At the same time, she silently manipulated the Soul-Nourishing Jade to envelop the inner Wu Yan once more, hoping she would be sensible and not come out to cause trouble at this time.
“No need for formalities, no need… burp!”
Mo Wentian’s body swayed, and he actually fell directly from the bamboo tip, which was over ten meters high.
There was no sound of a heavy object hitting the ground as expected.
An inch before he hit the earth, his body turned with a lightness that defied common sense. With a tap of his toes, he stood firm as silently as a falling leaf, not even stirring a trace of dust from the ground.
This movement technique…
He approached Wu Yan, and a strong scent of cheap liquor mixed with the smell of bamboo and grass rushed at her, making Wu Yan frown slightly.
Mo Wentian didn’t speak; he just circled Wu Yan twice. His eyes, which were originally clouded, suddenly became as sharp as knives in that instant.
That look felt as if it could peel away a person’s skin, look through their flesh, and see the secrets hidden in the depths of their soul.
Wu Yan felt like she was being watched by a venomous snake, and her breathing became difficult.
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, as if it were about to leap out of her throat.
“Oh, this old ghost’s Divine Sense is quite strong. His cultivation must be at least at the late Soul Transformation Stage.”
The inner Wu Yan looked at Wu Yan’s nervous state and waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, little Wu Yan. A cultivator of this level cannot possibly see through me.”
“Little girl.”
His voice grew low, losing its previous drunken tone and gaining a chilling sense of slaughter. “But, beneath this Sword Chi of yours, it seems there is a volcano about to erupt.”
Sensing the murderous intent in Mo Wentian’s words, Wu Yan’s heart skipped a beat, and cold sweat instantly drenched her clothes, which were already wet with blood.
Did he know about the existence of the inner Wu Yan?
This was a secret that even Xia Lingshuang had failed to discover. Could this Ninth Elder, who stayed drunk all day, have seen through it at a glance?
On the side, the inner Wu Yan remained indifferent, seemingly certain that the Mo Wentian before them had discovered nothing at all.
Mo Wentian chuckled, revealing a mouth of incomplete yellow teeth, his eyes showing a cynical clarity that seemed to see through the world.
“The more impatient the temperament, the more one becomes like this bamboo. If it grows too fast, the inside becomes hollow. If the foundation isn’t solid, the heart is easily disturbed. That moment you were on the stage, that ruthless drive to punch a hole in the heavens… tsk tsk.”
He paused, leaning his grease-covered face close to Wu Yan’s ear, whispering: “At that moment, I couldn’t tell if it was you using the sword, or if it was the Heart Demon in your heart using the sword?”
Heart Demon?
Wu Yan’s heart, which had been in her throat, suddenly relaxed upon hearing those two words.
He sensed something was wrong, but he seemed to have… misinterpreted it?
In the cultivation world, there were countless examples of genius disciples whose temperaments changed drastically and whose internal aura became chaotic because they were too eager for success or had deep obsessions, giving rise to an Inner Demon.
This Senior Uncle indeed had some skill to be able to feel that something was wrong with Wu Yan, but he attributed that wrongness to a Heart Demon caused by her being overly eager for progress.
“See, little Wu Yan~ I told you. With this old man’s cultivation and Divine Sense, how could he possibly see me? To see me, one would need at least a Tribulation Transcendence Stage Divine Sense. Do you think you can find a single Tribulation Transcendence cultivator in this world today?”
The inner Wu Yan’s point was valid. In her previous life, she had been a Demon Venerable, and she had now returned with her memories.
Although there was a discrepancy that resulted in Wu Yan gaining control over the body in this life, her soul strength remained high. Compared to the Tribulation Transcendence Stage, a Soul Transformation Stage was indeed not enough.
“This disciple admits her mistake.”
“The sect has undergone great changes. This disciple’s Master was seriously injured while protecting me during the last mission, and now her meridians are destroyed. This disciple hates her own low strength and her inability to help Master. I indeed have an obsession in my heart. Being too eager to increase my strength caused my Dao heart to become unstable and gave rise to delusions. I have made a fool of myself before Senior Uncle.”
Wu Yan’s words were not entirely false. She did indeed feel guilty about Xia Lingshuang’s injury.
Her current efforts to increase her strength were for the sake of atonement and to better protect Xia Lingshuang and her junior sister, Yu Qingyao.
“Obsession? Heh, what an obsession.”
Mo Wentian did not seem surprised by this answer.
He tilted his head and took a large gulp of wine, much of it spilling down his messy beard.
After drinking, he let out a long, comfortable burp.
“Obsession is a double-edged sword.”
He wiped his mouth with his greasy sleeve, speaking as if to himself yet also as if teaching. “Use it well, and it is the power that brings you to the summit, allowing your Sword Chi to be like a rainbow. Use it poorly… hehe, this old man’s wine gourd is often used to hold those little lunatics who suffered Chi Deviation and turned against their own kin.”
As he spoke, he patted the massive red gourd at his waist.
“Thump, thump.”
As if responding, several muffled thuds came from inside the gourd, sounding terrifying to the ear.
Wu Yan did not respond, she simply stood there with her head bowed.
“Fine, since you are the Chief Disciple.”
Mo Wentian fumbled around in his robes for a long time before pulling out a dirty jade bottle covered in grease and mud, then tossed it casually toward Wu Yan.
“Catch.”
Wu Yan instinctively raised her right hand to catch it.
The jade bottle felt warm and smooth. Though its exterior was filthy, it emitted a refreshing coolness. Just holding it calmed the turbulence in her Sea of Consciousness.
“Don’t be disgusted by the dirt. This is good stuff. A Top-grade Heart Clearing Pill; others couldn’t get it even if they begged.”
Mo Wentian waved his hand and turned to stagger deeper into the bamboo forest, his silhouette looking hunched and lonely. His footsteps were light and airy, yet every step followed a specific rhythm.
This Ninth Elder, though a bit slovenly, was indeed a good person.
The conversation with the Ninth Elder felt long, but it hadn’t actually wasted much time.
Wu Yan quickened her pace.
When she left the Purple Bamboo Path, the sky was already at dusk.
The setting sun was like blood, dyeing the rolling mountains of Zhuqu Peak a brilliant golden-red.
Her cave was near the summit of Zhuqu Peak.
Ordinarily, Wu Yan would walk up the mountain to exercise her body.
But now the situation was urgent. Although the wound on her left shoulder from Zhao Wuji’s Sword Chi had temporarily stopped bleeding, that domineering energy was still rampaging through her meridians. The pain was excruciatingly clear.
Unfortunately, the wound on her back had also been aggravated by the battle. The sharp pain made Wu Yan want nothing more than to return to her cave immediately.
By now, the sky had grown dark.
Her form while flying on her sword was extremely unstable.
The light of the flying sword beneath her feet was dim and flickering, as if it might fall from the clouds at any moment.
Every time she circulated her spiritual energy, it felt as if countless rusted saws were pulling back and forth across her meridians.
On a remote mountain path less than a mile from her cave, a sudden wave of darkness swallowed her consciousness.
“Bang—!”
Wu Yan fell from a low altitude, crashing heavily into the weeds by the mountain path and rolling into the mud, startling a flock of roosting night crows.
The intense pain caused her consciousness to struggle briefly at the edge of the darkness.
Through her blurred vision, she saw a strange shadow squatting in the mud ahead.
The shadow seemed to be startled by the commotion of her fall, and the small shovel in its hand dropped to the ground.