He Mu reacted very quickly. As soon as the lock clicked open, he immediately cast a Silence Curse and retreated a few steps, blocking himself in front of Wenren Sheng.
Although the door was locked, after the commotion during the day, this place might very well have an ambush set up. They couldn’t let their guard down.
Wenren Sheng didn’t try to act tough at this moment either. A faint unease stirred in his heart. He gripped the strap of his bundle tightly with one hand and cautiously poked his head out.
With a “creak,” the door was slowly blown open a thin slit by the night wind.
Immediately after, an extremely cloying sweetness silently seeped into the air, like weightless butterflies probing toward the two of them.
Wenren Sheng took a light sniff. The scent was like thick powder soaked in water—swollen, greasy, and damp. It was extremely unpleasant.
He frowned slightly.
“It seems like this is the place,” Wenren Sheng said in a low voice. “The smell matches.”
When Chen Lian had grabbed him away, his eyes had been covered with a black cloth, but his other four senses had become much sharper as a result.
As soon as he got close to this place, Wenren Sheng could sense it.
He Mu nodded, then kicked the door open with one foot and casually dragged Wenren Sheng inside as well.
After He Mu quietly closed the door, the two of them finally relaxed a bit and took the chance to look around.
Surprisingly, there were no ambushes in the room.
However, it was eerie—Chen Lian’s room was completely lightproof on all sides, without a single lamp lit. Besides that cloying fragrance, the air was also filled with a choking dustiness, as if no one had lived there for years.
In the pitch-black darkness, only Wenren Sheng’s eyes glowed with a faint blue light.
As a demon, his night vision was very strong—even He Mu’s eyesight couldn’t compare.
Just as He Mu was frustrated about not bringing a fire starter, Wenren Sheng had already taken the initiative to grab his finger and point toward the depths of the room.
There was a bed half-covered by gauze curtains, and a teenage figure lay sprawled crookedly on it. Wenren Sheng quickly recognized him as Chen Lian.
“Chen Lian seems to be over there.” He shook He Mu’s hand and said softly.
He Mu was a bit surprised. He leaned down slightly and looked in the direction Wenren Sheng pointed.
It was pitch black—he couldn’t even make out a silhouette.
If He Mu hadn’t been able to see spiritual bodies directly, he wouldn’t have known there was a half-dead person lying there at all.
This dumb demon Wenren Sheng had exposed his tail again.
“You can see in this?” He Mu pretended to be shocked as he leaned close to Wenren Sheng’s ear and whispered, “A mortal’s eyes… are they this good?”
Wenren Sheng immediately broke out in goosebumps.
Only then did he realize that ordinary humans couldn’t see at night!
“No, I saw wrong!” Wenren Sheng hurriedly rubbed his eyes and said in an exaggerated tone, “Ah! It’s, it’s so dark, I can’t see a thing!”
His acting was so poor that He Mu almost burst out laughing.
He held back his laughter, gripped Wenren Sheng’s hand in return, and pretended to comfort him. “Alright, don’t be scared. My sword will lead the way.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Color Kill answered the summons and floated upright at He Mu’s side.
The plum blossom patterns on the sword body lit up with a cold, hard white glow in the dim environment, illuminating a small area of visibility.
Wenren Sheng finally relaxed and opened his eyes. His gaze first glanced at Chen Lian lying on the bed not far away. Seeing no movement, he then turned to look at He Mu’s Amber Gold Sword with relief.
Although Wenren Sheng had sneaked peeks at the statue many times, the statue on the snowy mountain had been weathered by wind and rain for many years, its colors faded almost beyond recognition.
Being able to see the Mountain God’s Amber Gold Sword up close like this excited Wenren Sheng greatly.
He hurriedly tried to pull out the Little Wooden Sword from his bundle, but after rummaging for a long time, he remembered he’d already given it to He Mu as a gift.
Wenren Sheng felt disappointed at once.
He thought to himself that he shouldn’t have been so eager to show it off. Now he didn’t even have a sword—how was he supposed to fight side by side with the Mountain God?
Kids his age always fell into such troubles easily.
Just as he was pulling a long face and wondering what to use as a weapon, Color Kill unusually flickered its light twice.
Then, as if it could sense his mood, it slowly drifted in front of Wenren Sheng, tilted its blade, and lay flat.
“Ah!”
Wenren Sheng let out a soft cry and hurriedly reached out to catch it.
Sure enough, Color Kill shrank with a “pop” to a size suitable for Wenren Sheng, landing lightly in his hand.
Th-this th-this…
What was going on?!
Wenren Sheng looked shocked and at a loss as he gripped Color Kill. He looked up at He Mu with pleading eyes.
He Mu stroked his chin, equally baffled as he stared at his own Amber Gold Sword.
This situation was completely unexpected.
Swords held by cultivators at the Great Perfection Realm usually had their own spirituality. Different swords showed slight personality differences based on the spiritual power they’d absorbed, with tempers and dispositions all over the map.
Color Kill was the aloof type. It was rare to see it take the initiative to protect someone else, let alone shrink to fit them.
“I’ve never heard of this,” He Mu said thoughtfully, “but no matter. Since it likes you, take it and guide the way for me.”
The bewilderment in Wenren Sheng’s eyes instantly turned to sparkling joy. He could barely keep his voice down as he asked excitedly, “Really?”
He Mu smiled and nodded. “Go ahead. You wanted to learn martial arts anyway—you can practice with it.”
Wenren Sheng nodded vigorously. He carefully straightened Color Kill, gripped the hilt with both hands, and looked ahead with a tense expression.
“I’ll do my best!” he encouraged himself inwardly.
As soon as he said that, several strands of silvery-white threads extended from the guard, spiraling inward to bind his wrists, like a pair of gentle hands lightly caressing his skin.
Seeing this, He Mu was even more astonished.
Sword spirits were often one with their master’s will. In He Mu’s hands, this sword was a lethal weapon that sliced jade like water, never sluggish in its strikes.
Yet in Wenren Sheng’s hands, it seemed to have gained another soul.
Was it because of the demon’s physique?
He Mu couldn’t figure out what the sword meant.
But right now, finding the spirit root was more important. He shook his head, lightly patted Wenren Sheng’s back, and said, “Let’s go check on Chen Lian first.”
Wenren Sheng nodded and moved slowly with the sword in hand, silently approaching the bed.
As soon as they got close, a thick stench of blood assaulted them.
Wenren Sheng’s face twisted in disgust. He turned his head slightly and pinched his nose with one hand.
What was that… it smelled awful!
He grumbled inwardly. After barely getting used to the smell, he turned his gaze back to Chen Lian.
Chen Lian slept like a dead pig. He hadn’t even taken off his clothes. The wounds from before were completely untreated—the one on his forehead had festered, and dark red blood still oozed out, nearly soaking half the bedding.
He lay there like a discarded rag, nothing like the boy who’d been doted on by his elders during the day.
So…
Urgh, he felt like throwing up…
It was the first time Wenren Sheng had seen such a disgusting sight. His throat soured, and even the hand holding the sword trembled involuntarily.
He took half a step back, only to feel a force from behind that gently blocked his timid retreat.
“Don’t be afraid. He’s still alive.” He Mu soothingly rubbed Wenren Sheng’s back and said, “Hold steady. Once you have a sword in hand, there’s no retreating.”
With a sword in hand, he couldn’t retreat.
Hearing this, Wenren Sheng immediately felt empowered. He let out a firm “Mm” and his gaze grew much more resolute.
He mustered his courage and took a step forward.
He saw Chen Lian’s lips moving slightly, emitting soft sleeping breaths. He was indeed still alive.
Listening closely, he could even make out a few fuzzy words of sleep-talk.
“Next time…”
“…will… get him…”
He Mu looked at Chen Lian with some disgust. His finger twitched slightly, and a Silence Curse quietly fell, sealing Chen Lian’s upper and lower lips together.
The room fell much quieter.
Though Chen Lian’s wretched state was nauseating, Wenren Sheng wasn’t unused to blood. Getting this close dulled his aversion considerably.
He Mu leaned down for a look and whispered, “Color Kill can detect spirit roots. There’s some at his shoulder, back, and chest. See if you can find one that matches yours.”
“Circulate your true energy and make the sword resonate with your spiritual power.”
Wenren Sheng nodded, and Color Kill slowly lowered.
Only with a full-weight sword could he tell the difference from the wooden sword. The heavier he pressed, the harder it was to hold steady.
With his weak strength, Wenren Sheng’s arms began to shake. Color Kill was about to slip from his grasp.
Seeing this, He Mu hooked a finger lightly under his wrist for support, steadying the sword.
With the sword no longer shaking, Wenren Sheng relaxed too. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes slowly, and began sensing Chen Lian’s spirit root using the method He Mu taught him.
Fortunately, Wenren Sheng seemed to have a top-notch aptitude for “sensing.”
He quickly detected that Chen Lian’s spirit root didn’t contain any of his own essence.
Not only that, the power in Chen Lian’s spirit root was very chaotic, mixed with many different attributes of spiritual power—like dyes of various colors stirred in the same vat, extremely muddled.
He Mu waited a moment and asked, “How is it?”
Wenren Sheng shook his head and answered honestly, “I don’t sense my spiritual power on him.”
He Mu raised a brow and analyzed, “Looks like he took half your spirit root but didn’t refine it for himself. Then why take your spirit root at all?”
Wenren Sheng said, “Did he give it to someone else?”
He Mu pondered the idea for a moment before shaking his head.
“Probably not. The fact that Color Kill acknowledges you means your spirit root isn’t weak,” He Mu said. “But in the fight with Sword Sect disciples today, I could tell they were all third-rate cultivators who amounted to nothing. They couldn’t have that kind of strength from absorbing your spirit root.”
Wenren Sheng realized the Mountain God was praising his talent.
He felt a bit shy, scratched his cheek, and murmured, “I’ll keep working hard.”
He Mu hummed in agreement along with him and added, “Since that’s the case, do you have any other impressions of this room?”
The bloody smell had made Wenren Sheng dizzy earlier, but now that he’d adjusted, that initial cloying powder scent returned to his senses, stirring up his memories.
No mistake—he’d definitely been brought here.
Back then, Chen Lian had blindfolded him and thrown him into a dark space.
A strange incense had been burning there, giving off exactly this sickly-sweet smell.
With that in mind, Wenren Sheng focused his mind and slowly shuffled along, following the scent.
He Mu didn’t disturb him and quietly followed Wenren Sheng’s steps.
After circling half the room along the wall, they stopped in front of a bookshelf.
Wenren Sheng pointed at the bookshelf and said, “The scent is strongest here. I must have been put here back then.”
He Mu gave the bookshelf a quick scan.
The upper and lower shelves held scrolls and books of cultivation world secrets, all covered in thick dust—clearly untouched for a long time.
In the center of the bookshelf sat a row of four porcelain wares of varying sizes, perfectly filling the gap.
He Mu narrowed his eyes and observed. He quickly noticed one porcelain piece had noticeably less dust.
“…A mechanism?” he murmured.
As he spoke, he gripped the bowl-sized vase with one hand. His thumb traced down the patterns, found a seam, and with a twist of his wrist…
With a “click,” the entire bookshelf—and even the floor—began to shake lightly.
He Mu immediately shielded Wenren Sheng and vigilantly watched their surroundings.
Soon, the circular plate under the bookshelf began to rotate at an unhurried pace, seemingly carrying them toward whatever lay behind it.
Wenren Sheng’s heart beat faster. He tightly hugged one of He Mu’s legs, his hand gripping the Amber Gold Sword sweating.
“Don’t be afraid,” He Mu whispered reassuringly.
Wenren Sheng nodded and focused, carefully observing the scenery around them.
There was indeed a hidden cavern behind the bookshelf.
A sealed space barely wide enough for three people hid here. Right in front of the bookshelf stood a stone hidden door, its seams completely covered in moss.
What was eerie was that this hidden door was densely plastered with ghost talismans. A four-cornered copper bell hung from the eaves of each of the two bookshelves, sealing it airtight, as if utterly terrified of the ferocious evil behind the door.
At the same time, Wenren Sheng felt all the meridians throughout his body boiling up. The spiritual power, which had been too faint to sense before, suddenly began to flow strongly, as if desperately trying to remind him of something.
Wenren Sheng hugged He Mu even tighter. Fear resurfaced in his eyes, and with a trembling hand, he pointed at the hidden door.
“Seems like…”
The aura of the spirit root was right behind the door.
