CH 8

He Yingyuan was a disciple who had just been reassigned to the position of the guard there at the beginning of the month.

He entered the Jianxue Clan not long ago. His talent was not exceptional, but he carried out missions calmly, modestly and without talking too much, so he was assigned to watch over the doors to the Clan Master’s residence.

This was not a good position.

Everyone knew how bad-tempered and moody the Clan Master was. Those who were around him could hardly get any profits, but rather could easily lose their lives; that’s why He Yingyuan’s position was risky. Although his allowance was higher than what others had, what use is money to an almost dead person?

As the years went by, the disciples close to the clan head were influenced by their surroundings; their hearts turned hard like iron, and they wouldn’t even lift a finger to save someone.

But He Yingyuan’s conscience had not yet been eaten by dogs completely, and a half of it was still left. He saw that Changming had no idea about the destiny that awaited him, and he couldn’t help feeling a little compassion for him.

“The Clan Master’s retreat didn’t go smoothly. I am afraid you may suffer if you enter now.”

It seemed that his tactful hint had no effect at all.

Because not only did the other person not become frightened, but was even more eager.

“Who knows, maybe when the Clan Master sees me, he will calm down in an instant.”

He Yingyuan: …

Wasting his words like this, he felt like a person playing the lute to a cow. If anyone else heard his words, they would have already started crying and calling for father and mother, but this man not only had a pit in his brain, but also wasn’t afraid of death.

A person playing the lute to a cow: to preach to deaf ears.

He Yingyuan stopped talking. He firmly closed his mouth, pushed the gates lightly and gave Changming a sign to go in.

Changming joyfully took a step forward and walked through the doors.

As He Yingyuan saw it, Changming entered the gates to hell without knowing.

He couldn’t help but prick up his ears and straighten his waist, almost glueing his head to the doors. He attentively listened to the sounds inside, silently waiting for Changming’s screams to come.

Fortunately, everyone knew about the Clan Master’s temperament, and except for the disciples on duty, there was no one unsensible enough to come here frequently. Naturally, no one saw He Yingyuan’s indecent posture.

He Yingyuan was nervous and anticipating at the same time. He was still a little aggrieved because Changming ignored his advice, so there is no need to describe how complex the thoughts deep in his heart were. He was waiting for that miserable shriek to clear his conscience and prove to himself that his words were not empty.

But no matter how long he had been waiting, he heard no terrified shrieks.

Forget about terrified shrieks, there were also no moans, no screams of agony, no begs for mercy or cries.

He Yingyuan’s legs hurt, so he groaned, moved a little, kept his weight on another leg, and continued to eavesdrop.

Some time passed, and this leg also started to ache slightly.

He Yingyuan sighed in his heart. His body was exhausted, but his curiosity was piqued. He was vexed at not being able to open the doors and take a glance at what was actually going on inside.

But at this moment!

Bang!

The doors were blown away from the inside together with He Yingyuan, who was hit by them on his head.

That was a flight experience he would never forget.

Others fly on swords, use spiritual bells or teleporting formations.

And only he flew on a door.

The man and the door fell on the ground, the one on the other, the man under the door. He Yingyuan felt a lump forming in his throat, but didn’t start crying yet, and only had a nosebleed.

But let us go back half an hour.

Changming entered the room.

The person outside the doors was afraid he would change his mind and quickly closed them.

The room was quite big, more like an assembly hall.

There was nothing in there, not even a chair, except for a veil between the pillars that was swinging even though there was no wind.

There were a few praying mats made of woven cattail scattered on the floor and some traces of blood that had already darkened. Changming lowered his gaze to a marble platform in the centre of the room.

A person with dishevelled hair was sitting on the platform cross-legged with his back turned to Changming. One of his legs was propped up, and he placed his arm on his knee, holding a cup of wine in his hand.

The wine he was holding was dripping from the cup to the floor, drop by drop. But the man seemed not to notice it, as if he was in a slumber.

When Changming made his fifty first step, the man finally made a sound.

“This venerable one ordered Xu Jingxian to find a human vessel, and she sent me a waste with no spiritual powers?”

Grim, ice-cold, emotionless, as if all the other creatures in the world meant nothing.

The so-called techniques of human vessels and cultivation furnaces used different approaches to achieve equal results—it’s just that human vessels met more tragic ends than furnaces. A human vessel was completely drained of blood and qi, became a waste and soon passed away, leaving but desiccated remains.

Zhou Keyi was Changming’s third disciple.

There were times when Changming tried treading every possible path. First he entered a Daoist sect, then he joined a Buddhist sect, and later turned to Demonic cultivation. That was when he accepted this disciple, Zhou Keyi.

He still remembered Zhou Keyi who echoed others and was an introvert with low self-esteem. Although his talent was higher than that of the other two disciples he had had, there was a vast difference in their skills. He only succeeded in being persistent and focused. If he believed in something, he continued walking ahead without turning his head back.

Of course, it was what caused Zhou Keyi to be so paranoid starting from that time and until now.

Before Changming could reflect upon the reasons that caused his disciple to grow up like this, the man who had his back turned to him moved.

His long sleeves waved in the ash air, and the next moment his figure became vague. In the blink of an eye, he was already near Changming.

An ice-cold hand touched his neck.

Anyone else would have started shivering from fear and kneeled, begging for forgiveness.

But the person in front of Zhou Keyi didn’t begin to shiver and scream, and even showed an apologetic and affable smile.

“My disciple, haven’t seen you for years, how have you been?”

Many people knew about the reputation of Zhou Keyi, the Head of the Jianxue Clan. Even if they had never seen him in person, they would avoid him at all cost, keeping as far from him as it was possible. If this devil’s eyes fell on a person, he could immediately kill them. It was very possible that those people who acted so close with him could be counted on fingers.

And nine out of ten of those people were badly injured, if not dead.

Only this one was left—

If Xu Jingxian and He Yingyuan were there, they wouldn’t have believed their eyes.

Because Zhou Keyi, the Head of the Jianxue Clan, from whom others fled in fear, not only didn’t break Changming’s neck, but even took a step back, which had never happened before. His expression almost cracked, as if his face could shatter into pieces any moment.

He feasted his eyes on Changming, and his expression was wavering, first showing doubt, then astonishment, and finally disbelief.

Zhou Keyi suspected he was dreaming.

His shifu had been dead for decades, how could he suddenly show up in front of him?

Was it an illusion from his inner demons, or was it a bait from his enemies?

He desperately needed a human vessel to calm the surging blood in his body, but when he saw Changming, he sobered up, as if his past uneasiness alleviated a lot.

“Who are you?”

Zhou Keyi was watching him with a cold gaze, as if he was going to stab Changming with his bare hand and take out his heart.

“This skin is not bad. Although there is no cultivation, I can smash the bones, make a hole in the top of the head, pour in mercury, and then hang the body at the gates to admire it from time to time…”

While speaking, he slowly started to laugh. Even though he was handsome, he was so gloomy that he gave no warmth at all.

But these words were like a cool breeze soothing Changming’s cheeks. He unhurriedly began to speak.

“You entered your teacher’s sect at the age of eight, were very timid, had low self-esteem, and was even afraid of thunder. There was a thunderous night one summer. I wanted to check whether you were already sleeping as you should have been, but found you lying on the floor. I thought you just rolled off your bed in your sleep, but I touched your bamboo mat and realized you had wet your bed…”

“Shut up!”

The terrifying Clan Master Zhou’s face finally cracked.

His expression became even more sinister.

Although he wasn’t very cute when he was little either, he was still a bit pretty.

Changming thought.

The author has something to say:

A small theatre not related to the main text:

A: Special edition, special edition! The Jianxue Clan’s head Zhou Keyi has gone mad!

B: What a joke, that devil fell ill?

A: The news is as real as pearls! My aunt’s nephew’s maternal uncle’s second brother is helping the cook in the Jianxue Clan, there is no mistake!

As real as pearls: honest truth

B: How crazy, speak faster!

A: I also don’t know what happened, but heard that clan head Zhou has been repeating the same words for days.

B: Which words?

A: Why is he alive again? Why is he alive again? Why is he alive again?