Chapter 31: These Two Paths

Just as this thought crossed his mind, the blood in He Mu’s palm visibly turned to ashes and scattered into the air.

He had been tricked again!

No flesh-and-blood body remained, so it was probably just a clone that died. The fox must have anticipated that it would face disaster today and sent the clone ahead. What a cunning creature!

With the clone destroyed, the trail went cold. Wenren Sheng was both furious and anxious. He wanted nothing more than to chase down that fleeing fox, piece it back together, and flatten it again.

But now, his entire body was covered in a maddening itch, his strength completely drained, and even his waist felt limp and sore. He had no energy left to think.

The damp, sticky fog from his dreams had finally seeped into reality. His clothes were quickly soaked through with cold sweat, clinging wetly to his skin.

He lay in He Mu’s arms and unconsciously began undoing his own buttons, trying to dispel some of the heat.

Seeing this, He Mu quickly pulled his hands away, pressed his cheek against Wenren Sheng’s, and hurriedly channeled a strand of spiritual power into him.

“It’s just a fever,” He Mu soothed. “Circulate your energy to regulate it first.”

Wenren Sheng’s mind turned slowly. He focused all his energy on maintaining the Transformation Technique, desperate not to expose his demon identity.

He had already decided not to lie anymore, but he wasn’t ready yet.

He had to tell the Mountain God during his confession. Only then…

Halfway through the thought, the light in his eyes dimmed. His consciousness was gradually overtaken by the surging lust of the Heat Period, and his breathing grew more rapid.

Seeing his pupils dilate, He Mu lowered him slightly.

Wenren Sheng’s body burned fiercely. His bangs were soaked with fine sweat, plastered wetly to his forehead.

The scorching heat made him want to undo his clothes to cool off, but before he could touch the buttons, He Mu gripped his wrist again.

“Shengsheng,” He Mu swallowed, saying awkwardly, “You, uh… don’t take them off yet.”

Though he had watched him grow up, Wenren Sheng stripping in front of him while in such a feverish state still left He Mu at a loss.

But Wenren Sheng was single-mindedly focused on preserving the Transformation Technique. He worried only that he’d pass out from the heat and lose control of his magic. He had no idea what was going through He Mu’s head.

He said pitifully, “But it’s so hot. If this keeps up, I’m going to die.”

He Mu: “…”

Helpless, He Mu hesitated for a moment before taking the initiative to undo Wenren Sheng’s buttons and belt, then parting his collar.

Feeling the cool air, Wenren Sheng’s breathing eased a bit. His chest rose and fell slightly, the skin of his upper body flushed pink from the heat, with thin beads of sweat glistening on the lines of his waist and abdomen.

He Mu pressed a hand to his forehead, unsure where to look.

He had arrived at the mountain spring at almost the same time as Wenren Sheng.

At first, he had sat a short distance away, pondering the origins of that fox demon.

But the moment he heard Wenren Sheng say he wanted to confess his feelings, something triggered inside him. The spiritual flow in his body suddenly grew agitated for no reason, rampaging wildly through his meridians like a mad beast.

He Mu immediately felt his sea of consciousness churn. He didn’t hear another word after that. His qi and blood surged to his heart, his killing intent exploded, and his spiritual power spiraled out of control.

When he regained awareness, he had already twisted the fox’s body to pieces.

He Mu’s mind was still a chaotic mess.

Now, because of his own mistake, Wenren Sheng’s Heat Period had been triggered again. He felt even more at a loss.

What should he do?

He had stroked the base of Wenren Sheng’s tail a few times before, but he had always been fast asleep then. A little touch had been enough to ease the Heat Period.

But this time, Wenren Sheng was awake, and the Transformation Technique hadn’t been released—no tail or ears appeared. There was no way to relieve him that way.

Did that mean he had no choice but…?

He Mu drew in a sharp breath, then pulled Wenren Sheng’s open collar closed to cover his chest before daring to look at him again.

Wenren Sheng’s body was already showing a reaction.

He Mu gently pinched his cheek and found Wenren Sheng’s eyes brimming with lustful mist, pitifully gazing at his bracer as if begging for help.

He Mu said helplessly, “What if it makes you uncomfortable?”

Wenren Sheng seemed not to understand, shaking his head without a word.

Left with no choice, He Mu let go, helped Wenren Sheng sit up a little, and held him in his arms.

Of course. He was the one who had raised and taught Wenren Sheng. On all of Fragrant Ze Mountain, who else could help him?

Wenren Sheng was already dazed from the fever. The moment he felt He Mu’s embrace, he clung to him like sticky dough.

Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. His upper body pressed tightly against He Mu’s, his lips parting slightly as he let out soft, low whimpers like a puppy’s whines.

“Mm… ah…”

“Shengsheng,” He Mu touched his lips and channeled another breath of spiritual power into him. “Don’t rush. Speak slowly.”

Wenren Sheng clenched his fists and panted out a breath in distress.

“So… uncomfortable…”

His body felt stranger and stranger.

Every sensation screamed with lust, spreading inch by inch across his skin until all five senses were stripped away, leaving him knowing only the urge to wag his tail and beg for pleasure.

But his sense of shame wouldn’t let him do it. With nowhere for the pent-up lust to go, it made him so anxious he wanted to cry.

He gripped He Mu’s collar tightly and tilted his head, searching for him.

He Mu held his shoulders and whispered, “I’ll help you now. Just endure it a little, okay?”

Wenren Sheng curled his fingers, saying nothing.

Soon, he felt a cool touch at his waist, making his body tense up.

Was he about to be stroked?

He instinctively hugged He Mu tighter, burying his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in tense little gasps.

But… it was the Mountain God touching him, so there was no need for caution. He was his closest family, here to help.

And the Mountain God was the one he liked. This kind of thing was bound to happen someday, no matter what.

With that thought, Wenren Sheng convinced himself. His body gradually relaxed, and his breathing steadied.

His scattered consciousness finally refocused. He felt the coolness of He Mu’s fingertips trail down from his chest, over his waist and abdomen, until they reached him.

Wenren Sheng trembled all over like he’d been shocked, letting out a tense whimper.

But soon, the fear and anxiety were swept away by waves of pleasure. He buried himself deep in He Mu’s arms, feeling his movements, exhaling in short gasps.

Even more stimulating than tail-stroking.

The heat on his body climbed higher until he was numb all over.

“Ha…”

Tears misted Wenren Sheng’s eyes, blurring his vision. He pressed against He Mu’s neck, moaning softly from his lips.

He Mu touched him very gently—almost too gently, leaving his sensations unfulfilled. But Wenren Sheng couldn’t bring himself to say something like “faster,” so he bit his lip and endured.

Still, being touched by the one he loved made his body respond sensitively and honestly.

In just a few minutes, Wenren Sheng shuddered and released into He Mu’s palm.

His eyes were a little unfocused. While riding out the aftershocks, he couldn’t help lowering his head to sneak a glance at He Mu’s hand.

Thick white fluid clung to He Mu’s fingers, slowly dripping down his knuckles. It looked utterly indecent.

He didn’t dare imagine what He Mu was feeling or thinking, or how he saw him now. He only felt mortified to death, like a pot of boiling water spewing steam.

“…………”

Wenren Sheng turned and buried himself against He Mu again.

So humiliating.

Probably because it was his first time being relieved this way, combined with the earlier fight against the fox demon, Wenren Sheng recovered for a bit and soon fell into a deep sleep.

He Mu carried him back to the waterside pavilion and watched over his nap for a moment. At dusk, when the sun set, he brought him back to the Divine Temple.

Wenren Sheng had always been very obedient.

Even when he briefly regained consciousness, he didn’t ask He Mu a single question. He just blushed and repeatedly urged him, “Don’t tell anyone.”

He even tried to brainwash him, claiming that humans always reacted this way during a fever.

So foolish. Who would believe that?

He Mu gazed at Wenren Sheng, who slept soundly on the bed, clutching the quilt tightly. Murky emotions swirled in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stroking Wenren Sheng’s hair. “I scared you today.”

His Divine Graven had lost control too suddenly. If Wenren Sheng hadn’t woken him in time, he might have kept hurting people.

Wenren Sheng slept peacefully. Feeling He Mu’s touch, he let out a contented little purr.

Reluctance flickered in He Mu’s eyes. He leaned down and rested his forehead against Wenren Sheng’s.

“Shengsheng,” he whispered, “wait for me, okay?”

After so many years of ascetic cultivation, this was the first time He Mu felt so lost.

He still had doubts about his Dao Heart and needed time to think it through.

That night, He Mu didn’t sleep beside Wenren Sheng.

He silently closed the door, took up Color Kill, and headed to the cold pool in the back mountain.

The place brimmed with frigid qi, sealed in ice for miles year-round. Since Wenren Sheng had emerged from seclusion, few had visited—even He Mu, the Mountain God, rarely came back.

He walked slowly to the edge of the cold pool and looked down. The silent, black-ice water reflected his pale face.

The base color in his eyes was even fainter, a dead stillness more chilling than the pool.

After staring for a long while, He Mu flipped his hand to grip the sword and slashed a line across his wrist.

A stream of bright red blood instantly filled the sword’s groove, then dripped from the blade into the pool, spreading ripples of crimson.

He had to confirm it personally.

He Mu thrust Color Kill into the ice and knelt by the eternally silent cold pool, staring blankly at his reflection.

In the center of the ripples, a blurry, wavering image slowly emerged.

At the heart of the image stood a slab of cyan stone engraved with countless dense inscriptions, each stroke sunk three inches deep, nearly embedding into the stele’s core.

In the center of the stele, one particularly sharp, arrogant name in three characters stood out, as if the engraver had deliberately chosen prime real estate so others could spot it at a glance.

Those three characters were his old name.

He Mu’s mouth parted slightly. Staring at the name on the stele, he couldn’t say a word.

He had expected some retribution, but he never imagined it would come so swiftly, leaving him no time to catch his breath.

He Mu stayed in the back mountain, kneeling before the cold pool. His mind replayed the feeling of his Divine Graven losing control that day, teetering on the edge of Qi Deviation, over and over.

It wasn’t until dusk fell and night gathered that he gradually discerned the reason.

Mortals believed in gods, and gods believed in their own Dao Heart.

A century ago, during his Ascension, he had resolutely carved his old name onto the Emotionless Stele, declaring his resolve to sever past ties and cut away all emotional threads.

He had thought this Dao Heart would never change.

But at some point, he had quietly betrayed the path he chose. Every glance he gave Wenren Sheng was tinged with something else.

Now, every meridian and strand of spiritual flow in his body seemed to struggle for release, denying the Dao Heart he had once chosen.

He had been deceiving himself all along, even blaming Wenren Sheng for being young and foolish, liking the wrong person.

If he didn’t snuff out these feelings soon, he would lose his humanity, fall into demonic corruption, and drag all the beings of Fragrant Ze Mountain down with him in death.

So whether through fasting cultivation or severing emotions and desires, he had to strangle this Dao Heart-shaking affection in his heart—like his name, engraved into the tomb of the Emotionless Stele…

At this thought, He Mu gritted his teeth and shattered the image in the water with a wave of his hand.

Water droplets splashed, sending out more ripples.

Or—

He could erase that name from the stele, voluntarily strip away his Divine Graven, return to mortality, and abandon the Emotionless Dao.