Lin Shijin met Jun Yewu’s gaze. There was something unusual in Jun Yewu’s eyes, and he immediately shook his head.
“I just want to know what happens next. The fox lost its tail, didn’t it? How could it still be alive?”
“How could it still be alive?” Jun Yewu lifted an eyebrow faintly. “This comes from the scriptures of Jinyue Temple. Do you know what that implies?”
Lin Shijin half understood, half didn’t. He sensed that something was wrong, yet couldn’t quite articulate it. He merely stared at the text in Jun Yewu’s hand, offering no answer.
He had first come across it while searching for information on soul-bonds, and now he had seen it again in Jinyue Temple. That alone proved the story was far more than a lurid folk tale.
Jun Yewu didn’t turn the remaining pages. Instead, something seemed to occur to him. “You carry a soul-bond. Don’t tell me it could be—”
Whatever he thought of, the emotions in Jun Yewu’s eyes shifted. His gaze settled on Lin Shijin, his voice calm.
“With such means, the only one capable would be your shizun.”
“All that effort… just for this face of yours.”
Lin Shijin’s cheek was suddenly pinched. He grabbed Jun Yewu’s hand, trying to force him to let go. A moment later, Jun Yewu did release him.
Only his aura had turned a shade colder.
“What are you talking about? What do you mean, for this face?”
Lin Shijin felt inexplicably uncomfortable. The sensation that everyone else knew something while he alone was kept in the dark made his skin crawl. Bluff or not, Jun Yewu’s habit of speaking in half-finished sentences was infuriating.
“If you want answers, go and ask him yourself.” Jun Yewu put the scripture away and stared at the final page for a long time.
The last illustration showed the ending. The monk lay dead. The fox had regrown its severed tail. A talisman coiled around the monk’s wrist.
Beside it was an enlarged incantation. The pattern resembled two figures tightly entwined, annotated in vivid red ink.
—This curse is named the Sacrificial Heresy Spell. In ancient times it was used to offer sacrifices to the gods. The one who offers and the one offered become master and slave. The master is in truth the slave; the slave, the master. Their roles are reversed. The master dies for the slave. The slave lives for the master.
Jun Yewu closed the book and looked at the fool standing before him.
Feng Rugao had gone to great lengths to place a soul-bond on this idiot. Yet the other party to that bond remained unknown.
If Lin Shijin were the master, then the other was meant to be sacrificed for him. If he were the slave, then his life was already nearing its end.
Either way, this heretical curse that had been crafted by a demon immortal and a guardian of the threshold, had no solution.
Lin Shijin’s lips drooped slightly. He almost didn’t want to think about Feng Rugao at all. Feng Rugao had always forced him, controlled him. Now he was supposed to go and question him?
What could he even say?
Shizun, I heard you took me in because of my face.
Shizun, did you have other reasons for accepting me as your disciple?
Shizun, why did you choose me in particular?
No matter which question he asked, Feng Rugao would never give him an answer.
“My shizun definitely wouldn’t tell me,” Lin Shijin said quietly.
Feng Rugao’s thoughts ran too deep. Lin Shijin couldn’t read them, nor could he guess.
He watched Jun Yewu put the scripture away. The truth was right in front of him, yet completely out of reach. The frustration was suffocating.
“Want to know the ending?” Jun Yewu asked.
Lin Shijin remained silent.
Jun Yewu continued evenly, “In the end, the monk and the fox spirit lived happily together—and even had many little foxes.”
Lin Shijin: “……”
He could hear it immediately. Jun Yewu was messing with him. Speechless, he said, “How does a male fox give birth?”
He looked up, meeting Jun Yewu’s gaze. Jun Yewu wore a half-smile, and Lin Shijin hesitated.
“Did they… really have them?”
Jun Yewu stepped closer, pinching his cheek with two fingers and lowering his voice. “Our demon race has a secret art. Men can bear children. Provided the other party puts in enough effort.”
“If you want to know more, I can take you to the demon realm. You can try it yourself.”
An image flashed through Jun Yewu’s mind… of the youth after taking medicine. His eyes darkened slightly. His fingers brushed Lin Shijin’s cheek, unconsciously tightening.
Lin Shijin sucked in a quiet breath. He didn’t even want to think about who he would be trying this with. Goosebumps rose instantly along his arms. He twisted away, his cheek throbbing where it had been pinched.
“I don’t want to know. Your demon techniques shouldn’t be used on humans.” He retreated another step, putting distance between them. “Keep them to yourself.”
Just imagining it made his scalp prickle. Men giving birth… he couldn’t picture it at all. On his internal list of terrifying people, Jun Yewu leapt up two places. He was now firmly in first.
Offending Jun Yewu might get him sent off to bear children. Absolutely horrifying. No chance.
A moment later, Lin Shijin realised he had misspoken. He glanced cautiously at Jun Yewu and corrected himself.
“I mean… save it for someone in your demon race who actually needs it…”
Jun Yewu using it? That thought alone made him shudder.
Jun Yewu took in the youth’s reaction and paused briefly. “If you run again…”
The threat needed no elaboration. Lin Shijin immediately shut up, folded his hands neatly, and sat properly. As if he didn’t have legs. Of course he would run if he could.
Black mist coiled through the hall once more. A guard knelt and reported, “Saint Lord, we’ve examined the remaining scriptures and the temple formations. All the formations are separate, but—”
Jun Yewu waited.
“The sigils inscribed on them are all death curses.”
Formations required living curses to activate. Death curses, by all logic, shouldn’t function. Unless something else had taken their place.
Clearly, Jinyue Temple was being influenced by a sacred object.
“Everything visible to the naked eye is a sacred object,” Jun Yewu murmured thoughtfully. He repeated the phrase once, then lifted his gaze towards the distant mountain peak beyond the window.
Outside Jinyue Temple, at the edge of a sheer cliff, stood an enormous statue at the rear of the Hall of Enlightenment. From afar, its expression carried sorrow and compassion, eyes lowered as though gazing down upon all beings, half-hidden among drifting mist.
“So that’s how it is.” Jun Yewu raised an eyebrow, realisation dawning. “To it,” he ordered. “Stop the scourge-slayers from leaving the temple. Go to the water dungeon and bring that brat back.”
“Yes.” The guard vanished.
Lin Shijin felt uneasy. Judging by Jun Yewu’s expression, had he already located the sacred object? That fast?
He glanced outside, seeing only the colossal statue obscured by cloud and fog. Before he could speak, shackles snapped around his wrist, chains extending as Jun Yewu yanked him upright.
“You want me to come with you?” Lin Shijin asked, dragged to his feet. The scene felt eerily familiar. He had once chained Xue Ning himself. Now the wheel had turned.
“Taking me along will only slow you down,” he said in a low voice. “You don’t need me. I’ll stay here.”
If Jun Yewu really took him, escape would be impossible.
Jun Yewu didn’t answer. Holding the chain, he dragged Lin Shijin out of the hall in an instant. He coughed twice; the heavenly-demonic patterns at the hem of his robes flickered.
“I’m not afraid of you being a nuisance,” he said gently. “At worst, I’ll break your arms and legs after you cause trouble.”
His gaze rested on Lin Shijin. “Then you won’t need to walk at all. I’ll hold the chain. You can crawl.”
Lin Shijin’s imagination obligingly supplied the image. His wrists and calves ached pre-emptively. He closed his mouth and let himself be dragged along.
The shackles were loose enough not to bite into his skin, clinking softly as he moved. Lin Shijin tucked his hands into his sleeves. The spiritual apertures there had already been broken open the day before. If he exerted himself even slightly, the chains would snap.
But if he did that, Jun Yewu would only replace them with something far worse.
Though it felt like walking, perhaps due to Jun Yewu’s cultivation and spatial movement, after only a few dozen steps the scenery shifted. They were no longer in Jinyue Temple.
They stood before the massive statue outside the temple. Its eyes were lowered, as though gazing down upon them. Before it, they were no more than ants.
Silence reigned. The monks were dead. The scourge-slayers were trapped. Sheng Rufei was nowhere to be found.
Only Lin Shijin and Jun Yewu remained.
He lifted his eyes to the statue. It depicted Fuheng with a sword on his back, golden patterns swirling at his sleeves. He stood with eyes lowered, countless vicious spirits dissolving into nothing beneath his sword light.
Qiushui. One strike, an echo that startled a thousand years.
“There’s nothing here,” Lin Shijin said, lowering his gaze. He frowned slightly. “Are we going up?”
“Idiot. Can’t you see anything at all?”
Jun Yewu twisted his ear and yanked him closer. “Does your shizun usually teach you nothing?”
He paused, eyes curving slightly as he added mildly, “Then again, your shizun never truly treated you as a disciple.”
If you were a disciple, you would be taught everything. If you were a plaything, it was enough to keep you sheltered beneath one’s wings.
“That’s none of your—” Lin Shijin swallowed the curse. “That’s none of your business.”
He had been so focused on Jun Yewu’s words that he hadn’t even noticed his ear still being tugged. Before he could react, Jun Yewu released him.
“Look carefully. The spiritual energy here is abnormal.”
Jun Yewu grasped his wrist. In the next instant, Lin Shijin’s vision shifted silently. Countless faint golden threads appeared before his eyes.
They streamed from the centre of the statue’s forehead, spreading everywhere. No, it enveloped the entirety of Hanhuan Mountain.
“All spiritual energy descends from above. That’s why the temple’s formations can still function, even when carved with death curses.”
“The sacred object is there.”
Understanding struck Lin Shijin all at once. And it was the worst possible moment to understand.
Jun Yewu obtaining the sacred object had nothing to do with him. No, wait. Everything to do with him.
If Jun Yewu’s injuries healed, Lin Shijin would be the first to die.
“Don’t think of trying anything,” Jun Yewu said coolly.
The chain jerked. Lin Shijin vanished.
In the next moment, he found himself hurtling towards the statue. His heart seized, but he didn’t collide with it. They passed straight through.
“Idiot. Don’t be fooled by illusions—”
That was the last thing he heard.
Before losing consciousness, he glimpsed, out of the corner of his eye, a faint crane-feather sigil.
Silence followed. Endless darkness.
From far away came a low, familiar voice. “Xiao Jin…”
Something deep in his bones stirred. Lin Shijin snapped his eyes open.
