WPCID 26: What’s this nonsense about dao companions?

Xie Xianqing shot up as if the stool had grown thorns, nearly poking Lu Buzhuo in the face with his folding fan. 

“What nonsense are you spouting!”

Lu Buzhuo ducked back. 

“Is it really not possible?”

“It is not!” Xie Xianqing was adamant, his fan whipping up a frantic breeze, his whole being radiating indignation. 

“I see you’ve truly forgotten, forgotten everything! For all these years, countless demonic cultivators have tried to enter the Cave of a Myriad Bones to cultivate using its demonic energy, one wave after another, endlessly. To protect the seal on the cave, every sect leader, including your two grandmasters and your two masters, has died from the erosion of demonic energy. And now you, of all people, want to bring a demonic cultivator back with you?”

“If one could just draw this demonic energy into their Sea of Qi and use it, even if they ended up neither human nor ghost, it would still be better than being tortured by its corrosion. But Kunlun has never produced a demonic cultivator, never once. Do you know why?!”

“…” Lu Buzhuo slowly sat up straight and lowered his gaze. 

“My apologies.”

Xie Xianqing paused. He looked at Lu Buzhuo’s slightly dazed expression, sighed, and didn’t press the matter further. Still, his brows remained tightly knitted as he paced back and forth, fanning himself with enough force to blow the roof off.

Lu Buzhuo’s gaze followed him for a moment before he suddenly asked in a low voice, “You said they all died from the erosion of demonic energy. Why, then, did I not die?”

Xie Xianqing stopped in his tracks.

After a long while, he finally spoke slowly, “I don’t know. Before you disappeared, the demonic energy corrosion was already severe, so much so that not even your soul was spared. Chu Xuan didn’t know the state you were in; he thought that since you’d only recently become sect leader, it wouldn’t be that serious, so he kept searching for you. But I knew perfectly well… I never expected that you would not only be alive but living quite well.”

Lu Buzhuo’s brow twitched as he thought of that shadow.

The shadow had said it was an abandoned sliver of his soul.

As he was pondering this, he heard Xie Xianqing lower his voice again. 

“You have no memories. Chu Xuan won’t blame you for what you’ve done on the outside, and neither will I. But as for that demonic cultivator, Kunlun can only handle him impartially.”

“Handle him impartially?” Lu Buzhuo looked up. 

“He has never harmed anyone. How will you handle him?”

Xie Xianqing snapped his fan shut and made a slicing motion across his neck. 

“Whether he has harmed anyone or not, it’s all the same.”

“…And if I refuse?”

Xie Xianqing fell silent for a moment before saying, “Do you know why the sect leader’s lineage always consists of a pair of martial brothers?”

Lu Buzhuo had a vague inkling. He looked into Xie Xianqing’s eyes. 

“Why?”

“Being the sect leader is no different from sending oneself to die. Too many people would lead to chaos, but a single heir is too risky. So, two is best.” Xie Xianqing avoided his gaze, lowering his eyes to open his fan, one panel at a time, as if he could stare a flower into existence on its surface. He spoke in a rushed, muffled tone, “The talents of these two martial brothers may not be the best, but they are always evenly matched. This is so that… if one of them develops a dissident heart, the other can cleanse the sect on their own. You both made a blood oath in the Forest of Steles on Little Hidden Peak.”

Having said that, he hastily added, “Of course, it would never come to that unless absolutely necessary. You were missing for nine years, and Chu Xuan searched for you for nine years. How could he bear to ‘cleanse the sect’ of you? Oh, for heaven’s sake, Your Highness, just give up on that half-demon. I’m begging you.”

This time, Lu Buzhuo was quiet for a long while.

Xie Xianqing thought he had finally persuaded the man, but then he heard his highness ask doubtfully, “But the last time Chu Xuan came to find me, he said I could bring Shen Zhou back. He’s the sect leader, so what he says goes.”

Xie Xianqing: “…”

He hadn’t expected that while he was setting the stage out front, Ancestor Number Two was busy sabotaging it from behind.

“He was spouting bullshit,” Xie Xianqing said irritably. 

“Once you’re back in Kunlun, whether that half-demon lives or dies is up to him to decide with a single word.”

Lu Buzhuo let out a silent “oh,” a look of understanding on his face.

Xie Xianqing: “… …”

It was over. He seemed to have accidentally exposed Ancestor Number Two’s scheme.

He should have just played along and deceived him first.

Lu Buzhuo, however, was lost in thought.

If Shen Zhou could be sentenced to death with a single word, he could naturally be allowed to live with a single word. This meant there was room for negotiation.

Since he himself, as the former sect leader and the current sect leader’s senior brother, could be treated with leniency, then perhaps if Shen Zhou’s fall into demonic cultivation was related to him, he might also be shown some leniency.

A plan gradually formed in his mind. He beckoned to Xie Xianqing, gesturing for him to come closer. 

“What if I told you there was a reason for Shen Zhou cultivating demonic techniques?”

Shen Zhou was quick. It wasn’t long before he returned, carrying a plucked chicken.

In the Taiping Branch Office in Biancheng, Sect Leader Chu had just received intelligence that the half-demon had gone out to buy a chicken and was now rushing over, sword in hand.

Shen Zhou was completely unaware of the impending disaster.

He carried the chicken straight to the kitchen, drew water to wash the pot, chopped some scallions, ginger, and garlic, and stir-fried them with a sizzle. Suddenly, he remembered he hadn’t asked Lu Buzhuo what flavors he liked.

So, he rolled down his sleeves and sauntered off to find Lu Buzhuo. From a distance, he saw that the door to the main house was open a crack.

…Lu Buzhuo was afraid of the cold; he never left the door ajar.

Shen Zhou instantly grew alert. His wolf ears swiveled, on guard. He lowered his body, suppressed his aura, and approached with light, silent steps.

The people inside were not on their guard.

Especially Xie Xianqing. He had fully assumed that the half-demon was being kept busy by the reliable Sect Leader Chu, never imagining that he had forgotten to tell Chu Xuan that Shen Zhou had gone out.

Shen Zhou crept closer, crouched down, and had just pricked up his ears when he heard a voice drift out from the crack in the door.

“…The demonic energy is like a maggot gnawing on bone, difficult to eliminate. But Shen Zhou has a special constitution; he can devour the demonic energy in my spiritual altar.” The familiar voice spoke nonchalantly. 

“What’s this nonsense about dao companions? I’m only keeping him by my side to resolve the demonic energy in my body.”

Shen Zhou froze.

His wolf ears began to tremble and grow cold, slowly drooping. It felt as if all the blood had been drained from his heart, his fingertips so cold they were almost numb.

Impossible, he thought dazedly. He subconsciously lifted his head to sniff the air, then suddenly realized he was outside the door and couldn’t smell the bamboo fragrance.

The door was right in front of him, but the dark crack seemed like a gaping, bloody maw. Sanguine memories churned within it—one moment, it was that pair of eyes, gentle as a spring willow; the next, it was the empty, bloody hole of a corpse hanging from Biancheng’s city tower, staring at him with resentment.

It was as if reaching a hand across that crack would cause all these things to surge out and bite his wrist clean off.

…

In truth, he should have known.

When he left, Lu Buzhuo didn’t have a fever. Without a fever, the bamboo scent wouldn’t disappear, and Lu Buzhuo would still be Lu Buzhuo.

His fingers curled as if burned, clutching at empty air before falling limp.

He opened his mouth blankly. Though no sound came out, a short, faint “Lu Buzhuo” rang out clearly, as if it had bypassed his lips and tongue to erupt directly from his beating heart.

It was so soft, yet it struck his ears like a clap of thunder, making his head buzz.

…He still didn’t hate Lu Buzhuo.

The realization of this fact filled Shen Zhou with an unprecedented sense of panic.

He sprang up and, without a second thought, bolted for the main gate. He had never run so fast in his life, so fast that Lu Buzhuo would never be able to catch him.

The moment he crossed the threshold, a familiar and sharp sword intent slashed down.

The stone steps cracked, and the entire courtyard shuddered. If Shen Zhou hadn’t retreated so quickly, that single strike would have been enough to sever his neck.

As the dust settled, a pair of cold eyes and a sword were revealed. The man himself was like a drawn, sharp blade—narrow sleeves, tall boots, his long hair tied up high—so sharp that one dared not look at him directly.

“…It’s you.” The bloodshot veins in Shen Zhou’s eyes spread, and his voice was a mere whisper, squeezed from his throat. 

“It’s you.”

Chu Xuan frowned. 

“You know me?”

The Sect Leader of Kunlun rarely left the mountain. Most people only knew his name, not his face. Why would this demonic cultivator recognize him?

Of course, he recognized him.

The Sect Leader of Kunlun, famed for his sharp perception yet who had condemned him without distinguishing right from wrong; whose sword strike had parted the curtain of rain; who had endured forty-nine heavenly thunderbolts to pierce him through with a single blow. He would recognize him even if he were reduced to ashes!

Shen Zhou’s breathing grew increasingly rapid and heavy. Demonic energy swirled out of control, gathering into a small, dark cloud above his head, churning menacingly. Suddenly, he heard the sound of urgent footsteps behind him.

“Shen Zhou!”

It was Lu Buzhuo.

The dark cloud paused for a moment.

His wolf ears immediately perked up, twisting desperately backward, forcing Shen Zhou to turn his head.

His gaze swept over unconsciously. Before it could land on the person behind him, he saw the Kunlun Sect Leader flick his wrist, sheathing his sword behind his back, and call out to someone behind him, “Senior Brother.”

…Se-nior… Brother?

Shen Zhou froze. He turned around stiffly, his vision swimming. As the slight dizziness faded, he finally saw Lu Buzhuo standing there, a few steps away, alone and looking somewhat surprised.

Senior Brother.

A loud ringing filled his ears, and he couldn’t hear a thing.