Chapter Twenty-Seven

The back mountain forest was dense with trees. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the branches, draping the few people in the forest like thin gauze.

The change happened so fast, it was over in a breath or two.

Pei Zhan looked up at Cen Yan's voice, only to see Cen Yan facing him, his expression slightly surprised and dazed, one hand half-extended, standing motionless for some reason.

Xu Ziyang hadn't seen the wisp of purple smoke either. Pulled away abruptly, he was caught off guard and looked at Cen Yan in confusion: "Junior Brother Cen, what's wrong?"

"Yan'er, what is it?" He Ming had been healing Qing Yuan and hadn't seen anything. Hearing Cen Yan's voice, he tensed, alertly scanning the area: "Is there another beast in the forest?"

Cen Yan's mind felt numb. He opened his mouth, not knowing what to say.

He turned back, looking at the massive beast carcasses nearby. He quickly found the one that had released the unknown thing—the smallest of the beasts, different in appearance from the others.

In the centuries since Qingyang Tianzong was established, this was the first time spirit beasts had appeared in the back mountain. Their forms were very different from the wild animals Cen Yan usually saw. He couldn't identify this one's species.

Cen Yan pressed his thin lips together. He withdrew his hand, gathered spiritual energy at his fingertips, pressed them to his brow, and probed his sea of consciousness.

A cultivator's sea of consciousness was a unique space containing their essence. The higher their cultivation, the larger the space. Cen Yan was at the late Golden Core stage, so his sea of consciousness was not small.

It was a vast expanse of white. In the center floated a round, white spot. Wisps of spiritual consciousness swirled around it.

Cen Yan's spiritual energy swept through his sea of consciousness, but found nothing. The unknown substance seemed to have vanished from his mind.

He gathered more spiritual energy, probing his meridians, but again found no abnormality.

His actions were quite strange. Xu Ziyang frowned and stepped forward, concerned: "Junior Brother, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Cen Yan dispersed the spiritual energy at his fingertips, shaking his head slightly. His usually cool voice was normal. "I was mistaken."

Perhaps that wisp of smoke wasn't anything harmful.

"That's good." Xu Ziyang didn't dwell on it. The corners of his eyes curved down, his gentle, handsome features softening.

Pei Zhan flicked the spirit beast blood off his sword and snorted mockingly: "Making a fuss over nothing."

Cen Yan ignored his sarcasm. He walked slowly to the bush and saw Qing Yuan's injuries. His handsome brows immediately knitted: "Master, how bad are his injuries?"

He Ming's expression was grim. He sighed and shook his head: "Very bad. I'm afraid it's not good."

Qing Yuan's spirit was shattered. His injuries were much worse than those of the two inner sect disciples a few days ago. His arm had been bitten clean off—no chance of reattachment. Even with all the spiritual energy He Ming poured in, he had barely managed to protect Qing Yuan's heart meridian.

Even if he survived, he would be a cripple for the rest of his life, confined to bed, completely dependent on others.

Qingyang Tianzong was a place of cultivation. In this state, Qing Yuan could no longer cultivate. He would be a burden to the sect, which couldn't keep him. Once his injuries stabilized, he would have to leave.

Qing Yuan had already drawn qi into his body, though he hadn't reached Qi Condensation. Given time, he might have become a decent prospect.

He Ming couldn't help but feel regret: "Wild animals often appear in the back mountain. Usually, disciples rarely come here. Why was Qing Yuan here before dawn?"

Pei Zhan knew the answer. His gaze swept over the bloody Qing Yuan, his voice lazy: "Practicing sword."

He Ming looked at him in surprise, his expression even more puzzled: "Isn't there a training ground in the sect?"

Qingyang focused on swordsmanship and had a dedicated training ground for inner sect disciples.

Pei Zhan clicked his tongue impatiently, but still answered: "For the past few days, for some reason, he's been coming to the back mountain to practice for an extra hour every day."

Stimulus?

Cen Yan's expression changed. His first thought was the failed accusation against Chu Rong a few days ago.

When he had gathered evidence from Qing Yuan, he had promised to see justice done. He had failed.

Guilt washed over Cen Yan again. His long fingers at his side slowly curled, a cold glint in his eyes.

He didn't notice that in his sea of consciousness, with his emotional fluctuations, the central light spot burst with intense light. A very faint wisp of purple smoke, drawn by the light, drifted over silently, as if finding delicious nourishment.

Xu Ziyang thought of the same thing. A flicker of complex emotion crossed his eyes before vanishing. He spoke calmly: "The back mountain isn't safe. We need to get Qing Yuan to the inner sect for treatment. I'll send a message for two disciples to carry him back. I'll escort him, then go to the outer sect."

"Ziyang is as thoughtful as always. I'll leave Qing Yuan to you." He Ming nodded approvingly. "Yan'er, you and Zhan'er report to the Sect Leader. I'll stay and investigate the back mountain..."

"Master, I'd like to go with Senior Brother." Cen Yan interrupted. He wanted to do something for Qing Yuan.

"That's fine." He Ming rarely refused Cen Yan's requests. "Go with Ziyang."

With He Ming's approval, Xu Ziyang could hardly object. He took out a transmission talisman and sent word to two inner sect disciples, who quickly arrived at the back mountain.

He Ming withdrew his spiritual energy from Qing Yuan's heart meridian. He took a bottle of mid-grade spirit pills from his storage, poured one out, and placed it in Qing Yuan's mouth: "This will keep him alive for now. Whether he survives depends on his own fate."

Qingyang had scarce cultivation resources. A mid-grade spirit pill was rare. If not for the recent loss of several inner sect disciples, which pained him greatly, He Ming wouldn't have used this pill on Qing Yuan.

Watching the group leave, Pei Zhan shrugged lazily and turned away.

-

Inner sect disciples each had their own rooms. The two disciples carried Qing Yuan back to his quarters and placed him on the bed. It was soon stained red with blood.

Cen Yan's fingers curled tighter.

In his sea of consciousness, the light spot blazed again. The purple smoke drifted faster, eagerly wrapping around it.

But its color was so faint, it was barely visible.

Xu Ziyang patted Cen Yan's shoulder reassuringly and said gently: "Come, Junior Brother. There's much to do in the outer sect."

Cen Yan understood priorities. He nodded heavily and followed Xu Ziyang to the outer sect.

The damage was severe. By the time Cen Yan finished settling matters, the sun was setting.

The sky darkened. Sunset colors spread across the horizon, turning the clouds crimson.

Xu Ziyang used a cleansing spell to remove the grime and smiled warmly: "Junior Brother, let me walk you back."

"No need." Cen Yan didn't look at him, walking past without a glance. His robes were stained with blood, his fair face smudged with dust.

Xu Ziyang froze, watching Cen Yan leave, his smile fading slightly.

-

Wusong Residence.

As Cen Yan entered, he saw Shi Ming arriving with food.

"Senior Brother Cen." Shi Ming bowed.

Cen Yan glanced at him from the corner of his eye without speaking, walking into the residence.

Shi Ming followed respectfully behind him. After a few steps, the figure ahead stopped. A pale hand, stained with blood, extended towards him.

Shi Ming looked up, confused: "Senior Brother Cen?"

Cen Yan lowered his gaze, his expression cold and weary: "Give it to me."

Shi Ming didn't understand.

Cen Yan looked at the food tray in his hand, his meaning clear.

"But..." Shi Ming hesitated, reminding him quietly: "This is for Young Master Chu..."

"I know." Cen Yan's voice grew colder, with a hint of impatience: "Give it to me."

Not daring to say more, Shi Ming handed over the tray respectfully.

"You may go." Cen Yan took the tray, not looking back.

Shi Ming acknowledged softly, his eyes lingering on the residence as he left, disappointment evident.

Cen Yan walked to the only lit room. Staring at the closed door, his eyes swirled with darkness. Finally, he knocked, his expression blank.

Behind the door, Chu Rong heard the knock and assumed it was Shi Ming with his meal. Without looking up: "Come in."

Creak—

The door opened. The white figure beside Chu Rong turned its head, its gaze sweeping over the elegant young man who entered carrying a tray.

The young man was barely thirty, yet his cultivation had reached the late Golden Core stage. Such talent was unique in the cultivation world, top-tier even in the premier Qingxu Sect.

He had been in seclusion for a hundred years and hadn't known such an exceptional junior had appeared in the cultivation world.

Not sensing any ill intent, the white figure glanced at Cen Yan briefly before looking at the tray. The food was as bland as lunch, unappetizing, worse than the meals given to servants in his memory.

The young man placed the tray on the table without a word, then turned. His eyes were pitch black, staring at Chu Rong.

Candlelight flickered in his pupils, revealing undercurrents in those depths.

Silence spread, the air growing tense.

Sensing something wrong, Chu Rong looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes: "Why you?"

Why was Cen Yan delivering his meal?

Cen Yan's hair was slightly disheveled, his clothes stained with blood. He looked rather haggard, but knowing the plot, Chu Rong understood.

The beast riot had devastated the outer sect. It would have taken Cen Yan considerable effort to deal with it.

"Something you need?" Chu Rong's brow rose behind his mask, his smile enchanting.

One look could steal one's soul.

The white figure withdrew its gaze, looking back at Chu Rong.

A flicker of distraction crossed Cen Yan's eyes. He stared at Chu Rong's mask: "Do you remember Qing Yuan?"

Chu Rong remembered meeting him yesterday.

"I remember." He nodded, his black hair falling around him, revealing the fading bruises on his neck.

His skin was fair and delicate, like white porcelain under moonlight.

Chu Rong had more patience for the main love interest than for others.

After all, he had liked Cen Yan's character. Though they had clashed a few days ago, Cen Yan hadn't done anything too terrible since.

Cen Yan's gaze paused on Chu Rong's neck. His voice was low, as if suppressing something: "Spirit beasts ran amok in the back mountain. Qing Yuan is severely injured. He'll be bedridden for the rest of his life."

Chu Rong knew the plot. Of course he knew about Qing Yuan's condition. His tone was indifferent: "What does that have to do with me?"

He wasn't responsible for Qing Yuan's injuries. Why was Cen Yan telling him this?

Disappointment flooded Cen Yan's eyes.

What had he been expecting? Remorse? Confession? Compensation for Qing Yuan?

Cen Yan's hands slowly clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. His existing disgust and resentment multiplied, filling his chest.

In his sea of consciousness, the light spot blazed. The purple smoke around it tightened, as if feeding on the light.

As the light dimmed, the smoke darkened, coiling around the spot like an ugly scar.

At the same time, a subtle change came over Cen Yan. His elegant features now held a hint of wickedness.

Blood dripped from between his long fingers. His voice seemed forced through clenched teeth: "Chu Rong, you have no heart."

Author's Note:

Sorry for the wait~