Lin Shijin dozed only briefly before waking again. Sheng Rufei was still keeping watch beside him.
Remembering something important, Lin Shijin glanced down and saw that his wrist had been neatly wrapped in gauze. It had clearly been bandaged while he slept. He was also draped in Sheng Rufei’s outer robe.
When Sheng Rufei noticed he was awake, his gaze swept over, his fingertips pausing for the slightest moment.
Lin Shijin’s lips curved faintly. He dipped his fingers into a little tea and wrote on the table:
: Thank you, shixiong
After a brief pause, he added:
: Jun Yewu has taken control of the entire temple. He’s searching for a sacred object.
When he finished, something tapped lightly against his head. Sheng Rufei rubbed his hair gently. Meeting his eyes, Lin Shijin immediately understood.
This was already known.
Sheng Rufei wrote on the table as well. His fingers were pale and long, the knuckles clean and sharp, the characters appearing crisp and decisive.
: He discovered us early on. This was planned in advance.
In terms of cultivation, Sheng Rufei was still far inferior to Jun Yewu. But the Scourge-Slayer Envoys would soon arrive.
Sheng Rufei leaned close, his lips brushing the edge of Lin Shijin’s ear, his voice lowered to a near whisper.
“I can’t stay here. I need to leave shortly. You stay put. I’ll come back later.”
The words passed close enough that Lin Shijin felt the warmth of his breath. His ear flushed almost at once. He nodded obediently.
At present, there was nothing else he could do. So long as he didn’t cause trouble, that was enough.
Sheng Rufei’s fingers brushed once more over the wound on his forehead. Then he drew a map from his robes. It looked freshly drawn, rough and hurried.
“This is a map of Jinyue Temple,” Sheng Rufei said, handing it over. He had spent half a day mapping it out. “Memorise it. If I don’t return within an hour, avoid the red markers and head for the marked locations.”
Sheng Rufei was hiding him deliberately. If Jun Yewu discovered it, he would search relentlessly. Following the map would buy time, and since they were bound by a soul-bond, Sheng Rufei could sense Lin Shijin’s position and find him again.
The two youths huddled together, quietly discussing contingencies.
Lin Fuheng stood to the side. One glance at the map in Lin Shijin’s hand was enough for him to discern the guard rotations and movement patterns. It was clearly prepared in advance.
Decent adaptability.
Still, he had no intention of praising his own reincarnation.
Lin Shijin stared at the messy map. Sheng Rufei’s handwriting was elegant, but his drawings were… hard to defend. It took some effort before Lin Shijin could distinguish the guard points, markings, and his own location.
“I understand.”
He put the map away. Sheng Rufei studied him for a moment, then slowly withdrew his hand. Gripping his halberd, his figure vanished from the room.
Lin Shijin was left alone.
He studied the map again. All he had to do was wait here for one hour. He couldn’t help wondering what Sheng Rufei had gone off to do.
A figure appeared beside him.
The man bore Lin Shijin’s face exactly… yet his expression was far colder. With a soft crack, something shattered violently.
Lin Fuheng had destroyed one of Jun Yewu’s artefacts.
“The snow demon is entangled with the Scourge-Slayer Envoys,” he said. “Now is the best time to retrieve the item.”
Lin Shijin finally had time to examine him properly. He really did look like a colder version of himself… sharper, harsher, and clearly ill-tempered. Remembering Sheng Rufei’s instructions, Lin Shijin hesitated.
“My shixiong told me to stay here and wait. If I leave, he won’t be able to find me.”
“Why are you so obedient to him?” Lin Fuheng’s voice cooled. “Relying on him for everything. What happens if one day he isn’t there and you’re captured?”
In Lin Fuheng’s view, that Sheng youth was being deliberate. He was cultivating dependence, turning Lin Shijin into something fragile and exclusively his.
“That’s… true,” Lin Shijin admitted softly. “But I’m not interested in stealing any sacred object. Even if it’s taken, it has nothing to do with me. I just want to leave with my shixiong.”
Every word was sincere.
After he spoke, Lin Fuheng’s aura dipped colder still, oppressive enough to be intimidating. But Lin Shijin wasn’t afraid. Perhaps some instinct told him this man would never harm him.
“Nothing to do with you?” Lin Fuheng echoed.
He swallowed the words the sacred object manifested because of you and instead said, “Then don’t you want to know what your good shixiong is doing right now?”
“He’s risking himself outside. If he’s caught, you won’t even know.”
“Why not go and see? Don’t you want to help him?”
Lin Shijin didn’t fall for it. He replied slowly, “My cultivation is low. Going would only burden my shixiong.”
“Who told you that?” Lin Fuheng’s expression darkened.
It had been a long time since he’d felt anger. Thanks to this youth, he’d been experiencing it daily. Enough to make him cough blood.
“Cultivation grows through experience,” Lin Fuheng said coldly. “And I’m here. I’ll guide you. Hiding in your shell won’t lead anywhere.”
“There’s a proper measure to all things,” he added, forcibly suppressing a headache. “You should escape by your own ability… not rely on your shixiong for everything.”
Depend on others long enough, and eventually you won’t be able to stand without them.
“He may help you once or twice. But if you always need his help, he’ll grow tired of you sooner or later.”
That struck home. Lin Shijin had been captured more times than he could count. His fingers twitched. He really should learn to escape on his own.
He pressed his lips together and looked again at the map. The guard placements, shift rotations, barrier zones were all clearly marked.
Lin Fuheng spoke lightly. “I shattered the snow demon’s artefact just now. He’ll be here soon. If you don’t move now, you won’t make it.”
“……”
Was this man really not trying to trick him?
Lin Shijin located himself on the map. Outside, movement stirred. He sensed an unfamiliar aura. Sheng Rufei’s barrier was still holding, but not indefinitely.
“Don’t lie to me,” Lin Shijin said quietly. “If you lie to me—”
He didn’t finish. Sword in hand, he vaulted through the window.
Guards gave chase. A halberd skimmed past his cheek. It was so close it nearly split the skin. Lin Shijin’s face drained of colour as he barely dodged it, hastily triggering a short-range movement art.
He ran without looking back, for who knew how long, until he collapsed behind a rockery, gasping for breath. Only then did he dare glance behind him.
The guards hadn’t followed. His heart finally eased.
“See? You can run,” Lin Fuheng said calmly. Since he was residing within Lin Shijin, he drifted along without effort.
“You don’t know the outcome unless you act. Only after acting do you get an answer.”
Lin Shijin’s mouth twitched. “I nearly got skewered just now.”
He was deathly afraid of pain, that was why he’d run so fast. This time he’d been lucky; ordinarily, someone with higher cultivation would have caught him easily.
Perhaps the guards had gone to report to Jun Yewu instead.
Lin Shijin felt a little wronged. He pulled out the map again, estimating his position, uncertain where Sheng Rufei had gone.
“Go to the Hall of Meditation,” Lin Fuheng instructed. “It’s safe. Stay there. You’ll reunite with your shixiong later.”
The Hall of Meditation lay at the northernmost edge of Jinyue Temple. It was abandoned year-round, said to be accessible only to monks guided directly by the Buddha. A forbidden ground.
Three guard posts stood between him and the hall, each reinforced by barriers. Jun Yewu already knew Lin Shijin had escaped. Search parties would be dispatched soon.
“All the monks in this temple are dead,” Lin Fuheng said. “It’s a dead temple now. Do you know how he’ll look for you?”
Lin Shijin thought for a moment, then ventured uncertainly, “Capture me alive?”
Everyone else was dead. He was the only living one… easy to single out.
“The scourge-slayers have already arrived. You’re not the only living person here.”
Lin Fuheng pinched the youth’s ear again, evidently finding him hopeless. “You now have three routes. Disguise yourself as a monk, you’ll be exposed. Disguise yourself as a demon guard, same result.”
The implication was obvious. He could only pass as a scourge-slayer. With his current cultivation, he simply wasn’t capable of slipping past three guard posts unnoticed. His only choice was to blend in first.
“The scourge-slayers should be gathered in the Hall of Desire,” Lin Fuheng continued. “You’ll need to avoid Jun Yewu, and disguise yourself convincingly.”
He paused slightly. “Everything you learned in the sect is applicable here. These infiltration techniques exist because one’s cultivation is lacking. If your cultivation were sufficient, you could walk straight through three guard posts. No one here could stop you.”
He watched the youth’s lips press together. His fingers were still tugging at Lin Shijin’s ear when he gave the crown of his head a light tap.
“Cultivation is accumulated step by step. You have much to learn. This is your first step.”
“If you don’t become stronger, there’s only one road left to you.”
Either he would be locked away and controlled by Feng Rugao… or reduced to a plaything for three other beings with identical auras, likely not even separate individuals. The end result was much the same.
Lin Shijin wasn’t thinking that far ahead. All he wanted was to escape on his own and avoid dragging Sheng Rufei down with him. There were also… other reasons he preferred not to examine too closely.
The Hall of Desire wasn’t far. Numerous scourge-slayers stood guard there, some stationed in the side halls. With their presence, Jun Yewu’s people were noticeably fewer… likely wary of attracting the scourge-slayers’ attention.
After all, the temple was full of controlled corpses.
Lin Shijin waited patiently.
He fixed on one scourge-slayer in particular, intending to knock him unconscious and drag him away. Yet when the moment came, he hesitated. He stood there far too long, worrying he might strike too hard and kill him.
“What if I mess up and kill him…?” Lin Shijin murmured. “It’s still a human life.”
“If he notices you,” Lin Fuheng replied coldly, “you’ll die first.”
His tone grew darker. “I’ll count from three. Three. Two—”
Lin Shijin’s heart clenched. Before one could even be spoken, his palm strike had already flown out on instinct. It was soft and entirely lacking force. It landed harmlessly on the scourge-slayer, who didn’t even sway.
With a sharp clang, the longsword was drawn.
Any disturbance would bring reinforcements. Panicking, Lin Shijin flung another palm strike. In desperation, hurled several talismans as well.
The blade levelled at him, ice-cold. Lin Shijin froze where he stood, watching the sword descend. His grip on his own weapon trembled.
Just before the strike landed, the talismans flared. A burst of light—
Bang.
The scourge-slayer collapsed.
Lin Shijin had thrown the talismans at random. They were all ones Feng Rugao had pressed into his hands before he left. And apparently, they were rather effective. He had no idea which one had activated. He hurried over and checked the slayer’s breathing.
Alive. Just unconscious.
Relieved, Lin Shijin bound him, stripped him of his robes, and changed into them himself. He then stuffed the unconscious slayer into the bedding. After a moment’s thought, he adjusted the man into a more comfortable position, lest he wake up stiff or sore.
Lin Fuheng, who had watched the entire process: “……”
Just as Lin Shijin finished, a knock sounded at the door.
“Seventeen? What are you doing in there? Still not done?”
So this scourge-slayer was also ranked Seventeen? Lin Shijin found that almost impressive. He didn’t answer, merely went to open the door. Outside stood another scourge-slayer, dressed in the same long robe with a crescent-moon sword.
“I heard noise from your room earlier. What were you doing?”
Lin Shijin shook his head.
The slayer didn’t press him. “Don’t take so long next time. The deputy wants us ready.”
“Don’t be fooled by how upright the Deputy Envoy usually is. If you break the rules, he won’t go easy on you.”
At the words “Deputy Envoy”, Lin Shijin’s eyelid twitched.
He followed the scourge-slayer out of the side hall. Along the way, identical figures stood guard around the courtyard, swords at their sides. A distinctly unpleasant thought crept into his mind.
…It wouldn’t be Cui Haoxue’s people, would it?
Cui Haoxue was already in the city. The timing would make sense. Lin Shijin silently prayed that he’d be assigned somewhere far from the main hall. Anything but there.
The next moment, the scourge-slayer stopped before the doors of the main hall.
“Deputy Envoy.”
The doors opened.
This was a Buddhist temple. Every hall carried a faint trace of sandalwood incense, drifting softly through the air. A deity statue stood at the centre. Before the altar, Cui Haoxue had just placed a stick of incense into the burner.
The man’s sleeves bore subtle dark patterns, shifting as he moved. His profile was sharp and composed. As the two entered, he turned slowly.
Lin Shijin practically forced himself to step inside. He walked over the dark stone floor, head lowered, not daring to look up even with a human-skin mask on his face.
“Did the two of you discover anything just now?”
Cui Haoxue’s gaze fell on them. Lin Shijin, knowing nothing, didn’t dare respond. The scourge-slayer beside him spoke instead.
“There’s something off about this temple. When we asked about the holy monk who passed away days ago, they refused to let us see the body, citing temple rules. And…”
He hesitated. “I can’t pinpoint it yet, but something doesn’t feel right.”
Lin Shijin felt Cui Haoxue’s gaze settle on him. He lowered his voice. “I also sense something strange about the temple, but haven’t found anything concrete.”
“Continue the investigation,” Cui Haoxue said calmly. “Tonight, search the residence of that demonic monk.”
Lin Shijin assumed he meant Jun Yewu. He said nothing, turning to withdraw with the others—
“Seventeen. Stay.”
Lin Shijin stopped.
After a brief hesitation, he turned back. Behind him, the doors closed with a soft creak.
Cold sweat broke out across his palms. His heart hammered wildly. At most, he and Cui Haoxue had met twice. There was no way he could be recognised, surely?
If he could recognise him like this, Lin Shijin might almost believe Cui Haoxue’s nonsense about them being fated.
…Bah. At best, he’d just concede that Cui Haoxue had an unnervingly good memory.
Cui Haoxue moved to a side table. Paper, an inkstone, and a vermilion brush lay arranged neatly upon it. Several crooked characters were written on the paper, each one the character “Jin”.
Lin Shijin glanced at them.
Cui Haoxue picked up the brush and said, “Earlier today, I came across a line of poetry in a scripture. I’m not sure how it should be read.”
His voice was low and unhurried as he opened the ancient book. The pages were yellowed, the ink faded with age. It was a poem:
Green grass by the riverbank,
Mianmian longs for the distant road.
The distant road cannot be reached—
Yet last night, I dreamt of it.
Lin Shijin: “……”
Lin Fuheng gave a cold snort of laughter, dripping with mockery.
“There’s the word Mianmian here,” Cui Haoxue said, tapping the characters lightly. His gaze softened a fraction as he looked at Lin Shijin. “Yue Han isn’t here. You’re well-read. Explain this line to me.”
Lin Shijin found the situation deeply difficult to comment on. He pressed his lips together. The endless here very much did not mean what Cui Haoxue seemed to think it meant.
Before he could speak, Cui Haoxue asked, “Mianmian… longs for what?”
Lin Shijin answered flatly, “For the distant road.”
“And who is the distant road?”
Lin Shijin had no intention of explaining the poem properly to this fool. After a pause, he replied, “The distant road is the distant road. It’s the person Mianmian likes.”
His words landed.
Cui Haoxue frowned slightly, staring at the text for a long while. Then he lifted the vermilion brush and made several deliberate strokes.
Lin Shijin glanced down. The characters distant road had been crossed out. In their place, two crooked new characters had been written:
Haoxue.
The poem now read: Mianmian longs for Haoxue.
Lin Shijin: “……”
Cui Haoxue seemed marginally satisfied. He asked, “And the last two lines, what do they mean?”
“It means…” Lin Shijin hesitated, then answered, “…that one cannot dwell on their beloved day and night, but may still see them in dreams.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Cui Haoxue picked up the vermilion brush again. This time, he didn’t merely alter distant road, he also struck out cannot think of, replacing it with think of every day.
Lin Shijin watched in silence.
Then Cui Haoxue said, “Earlier, when I questioned you and Eleven, only Eleven answered. You said nothing. Was there something you wished to tell me privately?”
They had returned to the matter at hand.
Lin Shijin noticed Cui Haoxue still writing his name on the paper, crooked and uneven. After a moment’s thought, he replied, “I haven’t discovered anything. Eleven and I both sense something amiss, but we lack evidence for now.”
“There are monks guarding Jinyue Temple. Many areas can’t be entered lightly.”
Cui Haoxue held the brush loosely between his fingers. His features were sharp, almost severe, yet his bearing was composed and orthodox. When he fell silent, the authority of a long-standing commander surfaced naturally.
“That is correct,” Cui Haoxue said at last, setting the brush aside. “But I sent you to investigate the vicinity of the back mountain, not the temple itself.”
A flicker of something dark crossed his eyes. He looked down at the scripture on the table and continued, unhurried, “This poem. I asked you to explain it to me before. I understood it then. Yet today, I seem not to.”
As his words fell, an invisible barrier spread through the hall.
Lin Shijin had anticipated exposure, but not this quickly. And Cui Haoxue’s reaction… there had been no obvious slip at all.
He reminded himself that the man before him was the Deputy Slayer of the Scourge-Slayer Envoys. Realising his own carelessness, Lin Shijin tightened his grip on the longsword at his waist.
Before the blade could even leave its sheath, a streak of silver-white sword light flashed out of thin air.
Snap.
He felt something come loose. There was no pain, no impact… only the sound of something dropping to the floor.
A flesh-coloured human-skin mask lay there.
Lin Shijin instinctively reached up to touch his face. He met Cui Haoxue’s gaze. He was so startled he had frozen outright… and took an unconscious step back.
“Mian… Mianmian?”
Even with his usual composure, Cui Haoxue was momentarily stunned. He had assumed an infiltrator had slipped in. He hadn’t expected this.
“What are you doing here?”
Lin Shijin had been waiting for his other self to offer guidance. But Lin Fuheng had gone conspicuously silent. The air grew awkward enough to prickle.
“I…”
Lin Shijin genuinely didn’t know where to begin. He had only just told Cui Haoxue to stop pestering him. And now here he was, delivering himself straight to the man’s door.
“I disguised myself as an scourge-slayer… it wasn’t intentional,” Lin Shijin said, offering half the truth. “There’s a barrier in this temple that I can’t break. I planned to slip inside unnoticed… I didn’t expect to run into you.”
It really was unfortunate. And, frankly, his lack of experience showed. His very first infiltration had ended in failure.
Cui Haoxue asked, “Where is Seventeen now?”
“I knocked him unconscious,” Lin Shijin replied. “He’s on his own bed.”
Cui Haoxue looked faintly uncomfortable. He glanced at the paper covered in crooked names, coughed softly, and the tips of his ears coloured.
“If you were in trouble,” he said, “you could have told me directly. There was no need to go to such lengths… If it hadn’t been me, but another subordinate who recognised you, you might have been in serious danger.”
Lin Shijin glanced at Cui Haoxue’s reddened ears. His fingers twitched. At this point, being let off at all felt like mercy.
“It was my oversight,” he said quietly.
He had infiltrated the Scourge-Slayer Envoys. If Cui Haoxue chose to detain him, he would have no grounds to object. All he could hope for was that the man wouldn’t pursue it further… and would let him go.
“It isn’t your fault,” Cui Haoxue said after a pause. “I’m simply too suspicious by habit.”
He hesitated, then continued, “Mianmian… would you consider staying? There truly is something strange about this temple. You’d be much safer by my side.”
As he spoke, his fingers traced the edge of the paper, gently rubbing over the characters he had written, waiting quietly for an answer.
“No,” Lin Shijin replied at once. He was mortified. What even was this situation? He resisted the urge to cover his face. “I still have matters to attend to. I can’t remain here.”
“You disguised yourself as an scourge-slayer. Were you headed somewhere specific?”
Though Cui Haoxue was illiterate, he wasn’t slow. The pieces fell together quickly, even if he wasn’t entirely certain.
“If you have a destination, I can take you there. The monks won’t obstruct an scourge-slayer conducting official business.”
Lin Fuheng watched the display with open disdain.
In his previous life, he’d never accumulated this sort of romantic nonsense. Now the boy seemed to attract it wherever he went.
And every last one of them was rotten luck.
“Have you forgotten what your shixiong told you?” Lin Fuheng interjected coolly, tugging lightly at Lin Shijin’s ear to keep him from wavering. “If your shixiong finds out who escorted you out, he will be angry.”
Jealousy once or twice was tolerable. Too often. And there was no telling what he might do.
