Chapter 35: Thank You, Master

Upper realm, Nine Heavens.

The degree of Qi Deviation grew increasingly severe. Turbid qi eroded his Violet Palace, and He Mu could clearly feel his internal organs deteriorating.

He grew restless. The buzzing in his ears grew louder and louder, reaching near-deafening levels.

The remnants of his sanity were being utterly squeezed out, leaving him desperate to kill just for some relief.

But he had left in too much of a hurry, forgetting the Three Pure Ones Bell back at Fragrant Ze Mountain. Starting a killing spree now would be like drinking poison to quench thirst—it would only nourish his heart demons further.

This was pointless. He had to find the Emotionless Stele.

He Mu could only push on in this deadly mental state, forcing his way up to the Nine Heavens.

By the time he reached the front of the Palace of Fate in the upper realm, the killing intent radiating from him repelled minor immortals across a hundred li.

A bunch of land gods huddled together a hundred li away, trembling as they gossiped about whether Cangyu was plotting a rebellion against the Heavenly Court. Several had already scrambled on hands and knees to Jade Void Palace to report to the Celestial Emperor.

He Mu ignored them completely and strode up the steps to the Palace of Fate.

The Palace of Fate—mortal myths often called it the heavenly Moon Elder Temple—housed Siming, the god who controlled destinies.

When He Mu ascended back then, he handed the “marriage” portion of his fate plate to her. She personally inscribed it on the Emotionless Stele.

The palace exterior was deathly quiet, with only a single golden-robed palace guard standing there. Beside him was a dazed Rain Master, seemingly preparing for the next rain formation.

The moment he spotted He Mu, the palace guard stepped forward to block him.

“Lord Cangyu,” he bowed deeply, full of respect. “Lord Siming is resting. Please come another day—”

He didn’t even finish before realizing He Mu hadn’t paused for a second. He strode straight to the doors and kicked them.

Clang—

A deafening crash echoed as the thousand-jin doors were forcibly kicked open.

He Mu made no effort to restrain the killing aura around him. He yanked the Amber Necklace from his neck and crushed it with a snap in his palm.

The wooden sword sealed inside the amber slowly extended in his hand, then suddenly burst into blazing flames.

He had to find the Emotionless Stele.

He had to erase his name, strip away his Divine Graven, and break free from the Emotionless Dao.

The instant He Mu realized he might fall to Qi Deviation, he left Wenren Sheng’s room.

He had never felt killing intent toward Wenren Sheng, but he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t harm him once he lost his mind—wouldn’t drag all of Fragrant Ze Mountain down with him.

In his haste, he left Color Kill behind and fled directly.

He Mu didn’t dare imagine it: if he really put his sword to Wenren Sheng’s neck, how heartbroken that child would be.

Wenren Sheng harbored such pure sincerity. He brought carefully prepared gifts and poured out his feelings with the most honest, touching words in the world.

Yet He Mu couldn’t respond to any of it.

He Mu gritted his teeth. He clenched his palm, and the flames vanished in an instant. The wooden sword forged itself into a Divine Weapon, its blade sharp as a Golden Crow.

The blood-red in his eyes hadn’t faded. Laden with killing intent, he stared into the palace depths.

Inside the Palace of Fate stood a lone red-haired woman, casually positioned beneath a Paired Branches Tree draped in red cloth.

Her eyes narrowed, impossible to tell if open or closed. Her lips curved faintly, not quite a smile.

“Greetings, Lord Cangyu.” The woman lowered her head.

He Mu didn’t utter a word to her. His gaze locked straight onto the stone stele behind the Paired Branches Tree.

The Emotionless Stele. Found.

The stele recognized only cultivators of the Emotionless Dao. Sensing He Mu, it slowly revealed its inscription.

The malice in He Mu’s eyes finally eased a little. Sword in hand, he strode forward, brushing past the red-haired woman to stand before the Emotionless Stele.

“Name…”

He Mu’s vision blurred. He leaned against the Emotionless Stele, using his fading willpower to locate his name at its center.

He Mu half-knelt on the ground and murmured, “Siming, lift the seal on the Emotionless Stele. I want to erase my name.”

The red-haired woman turned then, beaming at He Mu.

Her voice was gentle, but she didn’t answer directly. Instead, she asked, “The Celestial Emperor let you stay in the lower realm a few more years. Did you find the heavenly spiritual root during that time?”

At the mention of heavenly spiritual root, malice flickered in He Mu’s eyes again.

He sneered coldly. No longer asking for Siming’s help, he snatched a short knife from the floor and began chiseling at his name on the Emotionless Stele.

Erasing his name would strip his Divine Graven, demote him to mortal, and likely wipe out his cultivation entirely.

But none of that mattered.

A Dao Heart could be reforged. Some things couldn’t.

He Mu had no hesitation. By the time he rushed to the Palace of Fate that day, he had already thought it all through. He only hoped to free himself quickly, without keeping Wenren Sheng waiting too long.

Siming stood nearby—not too close, not too far—squinting as she watched him scratch diligently at the Emotionless Stele.

But after a few strokes, He Mu realized the damn three characters were carved too deep. He couldn’t erase them.

The deeper the name, the firmer the original choice.

“Damn thing…” He Mu muttered darkly.

The heart demon’s corrosion turned his temperament inexplicably violent. Furious, he hurled the knife aside. White light gathered in his palm as he prepared to shatter the stele outright by brute force.

Siming coughed lightly at the sight and raised a hand to stop him.

“Hold on,” she said. “This stele is valuable. Shatter it, and I’ll have to find a new one and re-inscribe everything.”

He Mu gritted his teeth. “I’m in a hurry,” he squeezed out. “Please.”

Siming clasped her hands and paced a couple steps aside. She smiled brightly. “These years at Fragrant Ze Mountain—you really never encountered the heavenly spiritual root?”

“…”

He Mu froze at the words. Then his gaze swept toward Siming, icy cold.

He pulled back his palm and crushed off a corner of the Emotionless Stele.

Heavenly spiritual root again.

Heavenly spiritual root—heavenly spiritual root!

Ever since returning to the Nine Heavens, every immortal in the Heavenly Court buzzed around him like flies about the heavenly spiritual root!

All of them coveted Wenren Sheng’s life right in front of him. It drove him insane. The more he heard those words, the harder it was to suppress the killing intent surging inside—his very bones grew chill.

Right now, he wanted to tear the Siming before him apart with his bare hands.

“I don’t know any heavenly spiritual root,” He Mu forced out viciously. “If you’ve got the guts, find it yourself.”

With that, he marshaled his willpower and seized the short knife again, slashing hard at the Emotionless Stele.

Time was short for He Mu. He had left Color Kill with Wenren Sheng, but a sword was just a sword—it might not protect him fully.

He could only hope nothing went wrong now.

Perhaps sensing He Mu’s resolve to abandon the Dao, the stele yielded this time. He forcibly gouged out the first character despite its seal.

He Mu immediately felt the malice in his body subside. His vision gradually cleared.

At the same time, his heart began quaking violently, as if straining against shackles. Emotions sealed for a century burst through in an instant, numbing his fingertips.

His Divine Graven was detaching bit by bit. The patterns on his brow lost inches of luster.

“Urgh…”

He Mu clutched his forehead.

Just as expected, his body endured agony like scraping bones and carving flesh. His spiritual flow drained away.

Yet unexpectedly, excitement surged through him. The fractured name on the Emotionless Stele reflected in his mind, filling a void in his heart.

Siming didn’t interfere again. She simply watched from afar, glancing at the nearby incense burner as if checking the time.

When He Mu caught his breath and reached eagerly for the second character, she finally spoke, unhurried:

“I sent a little disciple down to the mortal world. It found the heavenly spiritual root, but bad luck—that root ended up in a demon.”

He Mu paused. The knife tip snapped off and flew away.

Siming’s eyes stayed narrowed. She smiled mildly. “Lord Cangyu, so your Dao Heart stirred because of that little demon?”

Her words barely landed when He Mu’s longsword whistled coldly to Siming’s neck.

“That fox was your subordinate?” He Mu demanded. “What does the Heavenly Court want from you?”

“A heavenly spiritual root is an ascension prodigy,” Siming said. “Simple: the Heavenly Court doesn’t want demons ascending. If the spirit root’s on a demon, it gets reclaimed.”

He Mu laughed bitterly. “Reclaimed? That’s a life!”

“Not the same,” Siming said, tapping her lips with a smile. “A demon’s life is worth less than a human’s, of course.”

He Mu could hardly process the madwoman’s words anymore.

He slashed. Sword Qi sliced instantly toward Siming’s neck, nearly severing half of it.

“Undo the seal,”

He Mu said coldly,

“or my sword kills even gods. Want to test it?”

Even as his Divine Graven peeled away, He Mu’s Sword Intent wielded the Heavenly Realm’s mightiest power. The near-decapitation shattered Siming’s poise—fear flashed across her face.

But she forced her composure, touching the gash at her neck. Flesh knit back together swiftly.

She gritted her teeth and forced a smile. “Understood.”

She stepped to He Mu’s side and placed her hand on the Emotionless Stele, effortlessly erasing the second character.

As it vanished, she picked up her tale: “Don’t be mad. My disciple’s a demon too—lowly status, but clever. I kept it posted in the lower realm.”

“Star charts predicted the heavenly spiritual root’s arrival. My disciple found it for me—spotted it beside a mother wolf.”

He Mu’s expression shifted faintly.

Wenren Sheng’s mother…?

Divine Graven detaching starved the heart demon, weakening it further. Amid the turmoil, He Mu grasped a sliver of calm.

Something was wrong.

Had the Heavenly Court targeted Wenren Sheng’s heavenly spiritual root even before he descended?

Was his own descent… part of the scheme?

Siming went on: “Once the heavenly spiritual root was found, my disciple slew the mother wolf and planned to carve the spirit root straight out of the pup—barely months old.”

“But alas, a rabbit bit its tail out of nowhere. Blink of an eye, and the little wolf was carried off to Fragrant Ze Mountain—your turf.”

He Mu frowned. “What did you do?”

Siming crouched and placed her hand on the third character. “I knew it: your barrier. No god or demon, heaven or earth, could breach it.”

“My disciple—a mere demon—couldn’t. So it turned into a Sword Cultivator, infiltrated Return to One Sword Sect as an elder, and lurked for years.”

Here, Siming chuckled wryly.

“As for me, I stuck to Moon Elder duties: convinced the Celestial Emperor to send you down, so you’d meet the little demon.”

“Just needed one moment of distraction, and it could’ve wrecked Fragrant Ze Mountain’s barrier to seize the heavenly spiritual root.”

Wreck the barrier?

He Mu’s heart lurched. He pinched a quick spell to check Fragrant Ze Mountain’s barrier.

—Gone.

Even as realization dawned that he’d fallen into the trap, Siming erased the final character from the Emotionless Stele.

He Mu’s Divine Graven stripped away completely. The golden patterns on his brow dulled.

“Pity. Why not heed Wenqu Star and read more books?”

Siming rose, idly flicking ashes from her fingertips.

“Too late now. I’ve told the Celestial Emperor the heavenly spiritual root’s location. Soon the whole Heavenly Court will know about that little demon.”

“He got this far because you, fool, couldn’t keep a lid on it—”

Hasty footsteps rang from the palace doors.

A golden-robed palace guard rushed in, dropped to his knees, and barked: “Lord Siming!”

Irritation crossed Siming’s face at the interruption.

She waved. “Speak.”

The guard swallowed hard, stammering:

“The… the heavenly spiritual root…”

“Lord Qianxiang reports the lower realm’s heavenly spiritual root has already… self… self-immolated!”

He Mu and Siming’s gazes snapped to the guard.

Siming frowned hesitantly. “What did you say?”

At the same time, the Rain Master outside the palace gates finally yawned and stepped onto the Celestial Phenomena Platform.

He formed the mudra for summoning rain in his hand and casually waved it toward the lower realm.

In an instant, thunder boomed suddenly.

A single drop of water pierced through the clouds, falling all the way from the Nine Heavens before finally smashing onto the side of Wenren Sheng’s cheek.

Torrential rain then poured down.

Curtains of rain soaked the earth, washing the bloodstains down the slope, past the collapsed trees and rocks, until they mixed into the muddy water and vanished without a trace.

Wenren Sheng lowered his head and held the lifeless Wenren Jing, staring blankly at the ground with empty eyes.

Rain soaked his wolf ears.

Not far away lay a fox demon. It still had one breath left, foaming at the mouth, its body twitching nonstop. A longsword of cold steel was still embedded in its back, as if gazing up at the thunder in the sky.

Yi Jinxiang withdrew her fan into her hand. She glanced worriedly at Wenren Sheng, opened her mouth, but didn’t know how to comfort him.

As a fellow demon, she knew Wenren Jing’s time had come. She just hadn’t expected him to leave the world in such a way.

Though she had only spent a few years with Wenren Sheng, she knew this child valued family above all else. Now that Wenren Jing had kicked the bucket and gone, he would probably struggle to emerge from the shadows.

Wenren Sheng knelt on the ground, cradling Wenren Jing’s corpse, which still held some residual warmth.

When he sensed Yi Jinxiang drawing near, his wolf ears twitched slightly. He then slowly raised his head to look at her, his gaze calm yet filled with despair.

He said hoarsely, “No heartbeat anymore.”

Yi Jinxiang’s heart ached. She couldn’t bear to meet his eyes and averted her gaze.

After hesitating for a moment, she said softly, “The Heavenly Court wants to capture you. I cast Illusion Arts on that fox demon and told it to bring news of your death back to the Heavenly Court. From now on, you can’t stay at Fragrant Ze Mountain anymore.”

Yi Jinxiang pursed her lips and added, “Cang Province may be a harsh and barren land, but it’s full of demons there. You won’t be mistreated. Come with me.”

“…………”

Wenren Sheng didn’t reply for a long time.

Yi Jinxiang grew anxious from waiting. She tapped her fan against her palm, about to pick him up directly, when he finally stirred.

Wenren Sheng slowly laid the clan leader’s body flat. He gathered a bit of power at his fingertip and touched it to his forehead.

The little old man quickly reverted to his rabbit form. Half his fur was soaked in blood, and his body looked shriveled as if drained of all blood, reduced to just a thick layer of hide and fur.

Wenren Sheng’s lips trembled faintly. He then hugged the rabbit and slowly stood up.

His slender frame looked especially small in the rain. Water droplets trailed from the tips of his hair down his cheek, washing away the traces of tears.

Facing the curtain of rain, he let out a sigh.

“Thank you, Master.”