WPCID 27: On what grounds?

Xie Xianqing arrived a little late. To his bad luck, he had been locked in the room and had to climb out a back window and circle around to reach the front courtyard.

By then, the front courtyard was already a chaotic mess.

The half-demon was surrounded by swirling demonic energy, his body arched like a startled animal. He was practically hanging off Lu Buzhuo, his arms wrapped so tightly around Lu Buzhuo’s neck it looked like he was trying to strangle the man to death. He rasped, “Who is he to you? What did he call you!? Lu Buzhuo, I’m asking you, what did he call you!”

Chu Xuan was blocked outside the gate by the courtyard’s protective formation, his face so cold it was practically frozen. With a sweep of his sword, its light as clear as autumn water, he clashed with the formation’s sword aura hundreds of times in an instant, creating a cacophony of clanging.

The display was as dazzling as it was imposing, so fierce that the fur on the half-demon’s ears stood on end.

Xie Xianqing shielded his eyes with his fan to avoid being blinded by the sword light, then shuffled forward a bit to get a look at the culprit behind this tense standoff.

The culprit, the cause of all this trouble… was busy placating the half-demon.

He was frowning, looking quite distressed, and had his head turned slightly, whispering something in a soft voice. He even had his index finger on the half-demon’s thin, tense wrist, stroking it back and forth.

Xie Xianqing was speechless.

The clanging of swords was too loud to hear what Lu Buzhuo was murmuring, and the half-demon probably couldn’t hear either.

So, with a flick of his wrist, he snapped his fan open and accurately struck the tip of Chu Xuan’s sword with a sharp thwack.

The moment the fan hit, Chu Xuan retracted his move and took half a step back. With a hook of his sword’s tip, he sent the fan spinning a few times before catching it securely in his hand. He then glanced at Xie Xianqing. 

“?”

With the challenger gone, the hundreds of sword auras from the protective formation instantly dissipated, returning to calm.

Now, Lu Buzhuo’s voice could finally be heard clearly.

“…With me here, he won’t dare do anything to you… Stop strangling me, I’m still sick. You’ll hurt me.” He was heard saying gently, “I thought I saw a scrape on your face just now. Loosen your grip a bit, let me turn around and have a look?”

Xie Xianqing: “.”

He had nothing to say.

He skirted around the two as if they were surrounded by an impenetrable barrier and sidled up to Chu Xuan, nudging him discreetly with his elbow.

“Hey, why didn’t you keep this half-demon busy outside?” he whispered. 

“Sect Leader Chu, so unreliable.”

“I was a step too late. Why didn’t you keep my Senior Brother inside the house?”

“Who said I was trying to keep him in the house? If you hadn’t caused a commotion out here, I would have been on the verge of taking him away.”

Shen Zhou had just slightly relaxed his grip when he heard this, and he immediately tightened it again with a violent jerk.

Lu Buzhuo let out a choked sound, stumbling back half a step, nearly falling.

“So you do remember them, and you want to leave with them,” Shen Zhou’s voice was so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable. His trembling breath ghosted by Lu Buzhuo’s ear, a hint of bloodlust in its rasp. 

“So you’re the Kunlun Sect Leader’s Senior Brother. No wonder you’re covered in demonic energy and have done so many wicked things, yet have remained safe and sound all these years…”

His teeth bit into his dry, chapped lips, drawing blood. He paused, licked his lips, and began to laugh.

On what grounds?

He had merely killed to avenge himself, yet he was hunted down by the full force of Kunlun. When he opened his eyes, he saw sword light glinting on rainwater; when he closed them, he saw rainwater mixed with blood. There was no escape for him in heaven or on earth. Even his life-bound sword had been broken by Chu Xuan’s hand.

…On what grounds?

All he ever wanted was for someone to stroke his ears and say, it’s okay now, Shen Zhou.

And now that he finally—finally had someone, that person too was becoming as hazy and indistinct as a reflection of the moon in water, speaking words of questionable truth and becoming someone else’s Senior Brother.

The branches and leaves that had grown to block out the sun in his heart were pushed aside. His bleeding wolf ears, the heart-wrenching dual cultivation, having his Golden Core brutally ripped out in the Cave of a Myriad Bones… the scenes flashed before his eyes like a revolving lantern.

The demonic energy surged out of control. Black tendrils spread through his eyes, turning them turbid, as if countless needles were piercing his pupils.

“Lu Buzhuo,” the young man’s voice was cold and light, like a dream-like murmur, the arm around his neck tightening little by little, “I no longer have a dao companion, so he can’t have a Senior Brother. That’s only fair, isn’t it?”

Lu Buzhuo could no longer stand. His brow furrowed in pain as he slowly went limp, collapsing under the force.

The sword in Chu Xuan’s hand let out a sharp hum.

Xie Xianqing immediately stuffed a medicinal pill into his mouth, snatched the fan, and opened it in front of his eyes, signaling for him to hold it himself. 

“Steady your mind, don’t get angry, or you’ll be corroded by demonic energy. I’ll handle this.”

He took a step over the threshold, but the sword aura of the protective formation suddenly turned on him. It flared to life without warning, forcing him back. In his peripheral vision, he saw Lu Buzhuo’s fingers lift slightly in his direction.

Xie Xianqing: “…”

He let out a string of curses on the spot.

Lu Buzhuo was already being choked to the point where he could only breathe out, not in. He didn’t have the strength to make out what the curse was. With his eyes closed, he fumbled to gently trace a spell on the back of Shen Zhou’s hand.

The tightening arm finally loosened, falling away as if drained of strength. Air rushed into his lungs.

He clutched his neck, choking and coughing. As he coughed, he turned around and, with practiced ease, swiped a finger across the storage ring on the other’s index finger. What he produced was neither a pill nor a protective spiritual treasure, but a handkerchief embroidered with flowers.

Xie Xianqing: “?”

Chu Xuan: “?”

Standing at the doorway, the two men watched in disbelief as their own former Sect Leader and Senior Brother pressed the handkerchief to the wound on the half-demon’s cheek, then leaned down to gently touch those eyes, now corrupted by demonic energy, and said, “It’s okay now, Shen Zhou.”

Xie Xianqing turned his head. 

“How about we just go back?”

Sect Leader Chu maintained his cold expression.

Xie Xianqing: “Then what do you want to do?”

Sect Leader Chu continued with his cold expression.

Xie Xianqing: “Alright, alright, I get it. I get it.”

Chu Xuan’s expression softened slightly.

When he looked up again, he saw that Lu Buzhuo had already carried the half-demon back inside.

Shen Zhou, drained of strength by the spell, was unable to resist. Cradled in Lu Buzhuo’s arms, he could only weakly clutch at his sleeve and glare at him.

His wolf ears had been flattened for a while now, tangled in his messy long hair, flicking back and forth.

Lu Buzhuo carried him back to the main house and settled him down, then hurriedly turned to leave, pulling the door shut behind him.

Creeak—

Bang!

Lying on the couch, Shen Zhou watched as the hem of that white silk robe departed like flowing clouds without a moment’s pause. A corner of it caught on the threshold, was dragged for a moment, then was pulled free with a sharp tug, disappearing with the outside light into the crack of the door.

As if it would never return.

His ten fingers slowly tightened, nearly digging into the wooden frame of the bed.

On what grounds on what grounds on what grounds on what grounds on what grounds on what grounds on what grounds.

On what grounds did that Kunlun Sect Leader have to take something from him every time he appeared? Last time, it was his life; this time, it was his dao companion.

Even after killing people, even after being stained with blood, there were still so many people willing to stand by his side. A splash of rain, and he was clean again, as pure as that Autumn Water longsword of his.

Shen Zhou stared fixedly at the tightly shut door, his eyes filled with a hatred so deep it seemed they would bleed.

Demonic energy converged in his pupils. His vision darkened as if veiled by a layer of gauze, and distorted illusions began to form.

Lu Buzhuo rubbed the bruises on his neck as he came to the door and waved a hand to dismiss the formation.

The next moment, a person appeared beside him. 

“Senior Brother.”

He took a look, felt the person was unfamiliar, and turned to the slightly more familiar Xie Xianqing. 

“I don’t remember… Did I have such a clingy Junior Brother?”

Xie Xianqing stumbled as he stepped over the threshold, nearly falling to his knees in front of Lu Buzhuo.

Clingy? Who was he calling clingy??? The sect leader of the number one sect in the world, a peerless genius seen once in a millennium, the youngest cultivator to reach the Tribulation Transcendence stage, a cold-faced sword cultivator who, if he didn’t speak, would be mistaken for someone cultivating the Path of Indifference??

Not even in his wildest, most delirious dreams had he ever dared to call Chu Xuan clingy.

In that moment of stunned silence, he felt someone gently tap him with a sword hilt.

“Where’s your medicine for invigorating blood and dispersing bruises?” said the clingy Junior Brother.

Xie Xianqing obediently took it out—three bottles of it—and offered them with both hands.

Sect Leader Chu was satisfied. He turned and handed the medicine to Lu Buzhuo.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking. 

“I have seen many demonic cultivators, both living and dead. The way that half-demon looked just now, his sanity has been completely devoured by demonic energy. He is beyond saving.”

“Not necessarily.” Lu Buzhuo was unconcerned. He looked down at his own hand and said lightly, “Shen Zhou just has a bit of a temper, he’s angry. Just now, he even grabbed my finger, not wanting me to leave.”

Chu Xuan: “…?”

Unable to bear seeing his sect leader’s bewildered face, Xie Xianqing covered half his own face with his fan, then sidled over to shield Chu Xuan as well, whispering in his ear.

“Don’t waste your breath, he won’t listen. Just now in the room, your Senior Brother told me himself that he’s using that half-demon to resolve the demonic energy in his own body. The half-demon is an innocent victim.”

Chu Xuan: “… …”

After a moment of silence, the Sect Leader replied in a low voice, “As expected of Senior Brother, to be able to devise such a method for resolving demonic energy.”

Xie Xianqing: “?”

Xie Xianqing: “????”

Good god, he had truly seen it all today. His eyes had been opened.

Seeing the two of them whispering for quite a while, Lu Buzhuo figured he was no longer needed and began to show them the door. 

“I have matters to attend to. I won’t see you two out.”

He then placed his hands on their backs and, politely yet not so politely, pushed them straight out the door, quickly shutting it behind them.

Thunk!

The sword hilt was, yet again, stuck in the crack of the door, its owner’s voice struggling through, “Senior Brother!”

Lu Buzhuo felt a massive headache coming on.

He had a bristling, black-smoke-emitting dao companion lying in the room; he really didn’t have the time to coax this one.

So, he said to the sword hilt in the door crack, “Do you have any kind of messaging spiritual treasure? If there’s real danger, I will contact you.”

The sword hilt stopped moving.

After a moment, a communication jade slip was pushed through the crack.

“I will be at the Taiping Branch Office in Biancheng,” Chu Xuan’s voice came through. 

“Senior Brother only needs to knock on the jade slip three times, and I will come at once. But the protective formation will block…”

Lu Buzhuo took the jade slip. 

“Starting tomorrow, it will no longer block you.”

The sword hilt withdrew.

He’s quite obedient, Lu Buzhuo thought. But still not as good as Shen Zhou.

He returned to the main house and pushed open the door, only to find that his very obedient dao companion had already fallen off the bed and had nearly crawled to the doorway. He was seething with malevolence, and several terrifying, bloody scratch marks left by his fingernails trailed across the floor.

The spell’s effect still lingered; it was a mystery how he had managed to crawl so far.

Everything before Shen Zhou’s eyes was a dark, chaotic blur.

He didn’t know where he was, only that something of his had been stolen. He had to get it back, had to get it back.

But he couldn’t move. Countless skeletal hands reached out, grabbing at him, pulling and dragging him, whispering and snickering in his ear, saying—that belongs to the Kunlun Sect Leader.

What makes you worthy, they sneered in unison. You’re just a half-human, half-demon little bastard, covered in filthy demonic energy, not even comparable to the Sect Leader’s personal sword.

…

Shen Zhou finally ran out of strength. His blood-stained fingers scraped weakly against the floor.

He was too sad to crawl anymore.

Suddenly, a pair of snow-white boots appeared in his vision, startlingly bright. They slowly walked through the mire of blood and bone, remaining spotlessly clean.

Like the immortal who had walked through the snow on that winter day in Biancheng.

The immortal leaned down and picked him up. The scent of bamboo enveloped him, the blood receded, and the bones crumbled to dust. Colorful wildflowers bloomed on the ground.

The bamboo scent kissed his lips. Shen Zhou responded in a daze, feeling as if he had forgotten something, something very important, something he was in the middle of doing but had been interrupted.

The demonic energy in his pupils swirled once more.

He remembered.

He had to kill the bamboo-scented one.