WPCID 37: “You can’t, Shen Zhou.”

“It’s all gone,” Shen Zhou said calmly, wiping his mouth. 

“You’re not allowed to go out tonight. I’m going to dual-cultivate with Lu Buzhuo.”

“Lu Buzhuo”: “…”

“Lu Buzhuo” was incredulous. 

“What kind of madness has gotten into you? Are you backing out at the last minute?”

Shen Zhou said nothing, licking his lips. He tasted a lingering trace of bamboo fragrance, and his wolf ears perked up again.

“Go back,” he said, his words muffled. 

“I… I need to think it over.”

“Lu Buzhuo” watched him for a moment, then suddenly smiled. 

“How can an arrow, once shot, turn back? That Sect Master Chu should be getting busy soon. As for the one surnamed Xie…”

Before he finished speaking, there was a knock on the courtyard gate—thump, thump, thump—sounding somewhat urgent.

“Lu Buzhuo” glanced at him again, then stood up to open the gate.

Shen Zhou hesitated for a moment before tucking the box of golden sore ointment into his robes and following him out.

The one knocking was Xie Xianqing.

“Where is Chu Xuan’s sword?” he asked as soon as he saw them, his tone slightly anxious. 

“Give it to me.”

“Why?” “Lu Buzhuo” didn’t seem concerned at all. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe and said nonchalantly, his tone and expression a perfect imitation. 

“It’s almost dark. What do you need a sword for? Besides, how could I casually give his sword to someone else?”

“The Defiled Stones from the Biancheng branch of the Peace Bureau have been stolen,” Xie Xianqing said, his brows tightly furrowed, not noticing the other’s odd behavior. 

“Someone spread the news, and a large group of demonic cultivators has gathered at Yellow Ridge Town, twenty miles away. The stolen stones are likely there too. A great battle is imminent. Chu Xuan is leading the entire Peace Bureau out and sent me a message, asking me to help deliver his sword.”

“Lu Buzhuo” let out a slow “Oh,” his smile widening with hidden meaning. 

“The Defiled Stones confiscated by the Peace Bureau are sent to Kunlun Ruins every six months. The time is almost here, so how could something go wrong at this critical juncture? The place where the stones are sealed is heavily guarded. If one isn’t familiar with it, they probably couldn’t even find the door.”

“I’m afraid it was an inside job… Ai, stop talking, just give me the sword!”

“Alright.” “Lu Buzhuo” reached into his sleeve, fumbling around for a long time without finding it.

Xie Xianqing grew impatient and leaned closer. 

“Don’t you normally use a storage ring? Since when did you have a Qiankun sleeve… Lu Buzhuo!?”

With a flick of the sleeve, several streams of dark demonic energy shot out, aiming for his vital points in three directions. In an instant, they were less than an inch from his pupils.

Caught completely off guard, Xie Xianqing froze on the spot, watching helplessly as the demonic energy lunged at him, his eyes reflecting Lu Buzhuo’s strange, cruel smile.

Suddenly, a pair of hands shot out from the side.

Or maybe it was a foot.

Xie Xianqing didn’t see clearly. All he knew was that at the critical moment, he was either pushed or kicked away, and he rolled on the ground, landing face-first in the dirt.

Just before the world spun around him, he glimpsed a furry shadow. Something else slipped out and fell to the ground, shattering and releasing the scent of golden sore ointment.

The sudden turn of events, coupled with the kick, left Xie Xianqing’s mind a jumbled mess. Before he could even get up, he was kicked again, this time straight out the gate.

“Get lost!” the person said fiercely.

The gate was slammed shut with a “bang.”

Doctor Xie was a man who had seen his share of turmoil. Though dizzy from the fall, he came to his senses the moment the gate closed, his fan already in his grasp.

Remembering the demonic energy that had emerged from Lu Buzhuo’s sleeve, his expression changed drastically. He scrambled to his feet and left the residence without a backward glance, taking out a communication jade slip to inform Chu Xuan of the situation.

Inside the courtyard.

“Lu Buzhuo” brushed off his sleeves, somewhat annoyed, and turned back. 

“Why did you get in the way? I almost killed him just now.”

Shen Zhou was squatting on the ground, picking up the box of golden sore ointment.

After trying for a while, he found it was too shattered to be picked up. His mood suddenly soured for reasons he couldn’t explain. He looked up. 

“None of your damn business.”

Taken aback by the retort, “Lu Buzhuo” became displeased. He crossed his arms and said, “Suit yourself. After tonight, Kunlun Ruins will come to clean house anyway. The former Sect Master, missing for over a decade, reappears only to collude with demonic cultivators, steal Defiled Stones, and attempt to silence a fellow sect member by killing him. It’s an utter disgrace to the sect. Having gone this far, there’s no turning back for him. If you had let me go out tonight, I could have severely wounded Chu Xuan… Are you really not giving me the pill?”

Shen Zhou’s expression shifted several times, but in the end, he still said, “No.”

“Lu Buzhuo” gave a strange smile. 

“As expected, half-demons are all bastards who forget the pain after being given a piece of candy. Their hearts are cheaper than grass; a few sweet words are all it takes to make them switch sides. Lucky for me, I wasn’t betting everything on you.”

With that, he turned and went back into the house.

Shen Zhou was stunned by the scolding.

Although this wasn’t Lu Buzhuo, it was wearing Lu Buzhuo’s face and using Lu Buzhuo’s voice. The wolf ears on his head immediately drooped.

But he was only dazed for a moment. Worried about what “Lu Buzhuo” might do next, he immediately chased after him.

He pushed the door but found it wouldn’t budge; it was locked.

His wolf ears instantly bristled. Shen Zhou lifted his foot and kicked, shattering the door panel in a few blows. Demonic energy billowed from his body as if he were about to tear someone to pieces.

He burst in and was first met with the scent of bamboo.

Rounding the screen, he saw Chu Xuan’s sword, which had been hidden, now placed on the table. Lu Buzhuo was standing there, looking a bit dazed and confused as if he had just woken up, rubbing the small, faded characters on the sword.

Hearing the noise, he looked up at Shen Zhou. His expression was slightly stunned, and beneath the surprise, there was a hint of unfamiliarity.

Shen Zhou stopped in his tracks, not moving any closer.

The two of them just stared at each other from a distance until the faint confusion in Lu Buzhuo’s eyes disappeared, and he concealed all his emotions.

“What did you do, Shen Zhou?”

His wolf ears drooped for a second before standing erect again, a bluff of ferocity as they tilted forward.

All I did was rub off a few words, Shen Zhou thought. If I can’t have them, Chu Xuan can’t either. It’s fair. There’s nothing wrong with it.

“I didn’t do anything,” Shen Zhou said.

Lu Buzhuo lowered his gaze for a moment, then looked at him again. 

“You met with the evil soul long ago. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Shen Zhou fell silent.

He could have said no, but he didn’t want to lie to Lu Buzhuo.

But Lu Buzhuo didn’t seem willing to let him off the hook.

“Why? You knew the side effects of that pill, yet you deceived me, hid it from me, and tricked me into taking it. You let him trick Chu Xuan out of his sword, steal the Defiled Stones, gather demonic cultivators to cause chaos, and try to kill Xie Xianqing. I cannot do these things. You know who I am, Shen Zhou.” Lu Buzhuo gripped the sword, speaking calmly, then repeated softly, “You know who I am.”

Shen Zhou was silent for a while before asking, “How much have you remembered?”

“Almost everything.”

“What about the things from three years later?”

This time, it was Lu Buzhuo’s turn to be silent.

“He said that the dual cultivation three years from now, the live dissection of my Golden Core, and abandoning me in the Myriad Bones Grotto—he said you did it all, that you know everything, that you remember.” Shen Zhou stared at him intently, his voice soft, holding a faint hope like the flicker of a candle. 

“Say it’s not true, and I’ll believe you. Say it.”

Lu Buzhuo looked at him, pressed his lips together, and said nothing.

The candle flame was extinguished.

“Say it!” Shen Zhou’s pupils suddenly constricted as if pierced by a needle, his voice filled with heart-wrenching agony. 

“Say it!! I’m a demonic cultivator. I hid things from you, I deceived you, I’ve done all sorts of terrible things. Are you the same?”

“It was me,” Lu Buzhuo finally said.

The table was bumped, and the sword vibrated, revealing half of its snow-bright blade.

Shen Zhou released him and took half a step back. The pendant slid out from his collar, dangling and swinging.

On it were eight small, flamboyantly written characters—”Together in life, together in death.”

The scent of bamboo drifted over, very close, carrying no malice, just like the day he had first awoken. A hand gently hooked the pendant, and a fingertip wiped across its surface.

The characters scattered like sand, as if they had never existed.

“Forcing you into dual cultivation was me. Slicing out your Golden Core with my own hands was me. Not taking you away from the Myriad Bones Grotto… was also me.” Lu Buzhuo’s eyes looked at him, yet they reflected nothing, only a hint of weariness. 

“I cannot return to Kunlun Ruins, and Kunlun Ruins will no longer have me. The life-link curse is broken. Do as you wished to do back then.”

“Why did it come to this?” Shen Zhou asked him, though it sounded more like he was asking himself. 

“Where did it all go wrong?”

Lu Buzhuo was silent for a very, very long time, then still said, “It was me.”

“…Do you love Kunlun Ruins that much?”

“That is my sect.”

“Am I not your cultivation partner?” Shen Zhou’s voice grew tighter, almost changing in pitch. 

“Without Kunlun Ruins, you still have me. Can’t that be enough?”

Lu Buzhuo’s gaze softened again, so gentle and tender as he looked at him that it almost gave one hope.

Then he suddenly smiled and said softly, as if coaxing a child, “You can’t, Shen Zhou.”

Shen Zhou could barely stand. His hand reached back for support and touched the sword on the table.

The cold, rough texture slid across his palm. Before he knew it, he had drawn it with a clang. The blade was as bright as snow, just as sharp as it was on that day of the torrential downpour when they had come to besiege him.

The sword pointed at Lu Buzhuo, but it was not steady.

If Lu Buzhuo just looks scared, or shows regret, or says “no,” or even just shakes his head, I’ll put the sword away, Shen Zhou thought frantically. His gaze turned cold, as if he truly meant to kill him.

“Do you have any last words?”

Lu Buzhuo looked down at the sword and was quiet for a long time, so long that Shen Zhou thought he was about to show regret.

But then, he suddenly reached out, grasped the blade, and looked up with a smile. 

“I do.”

“When you kill someone, hold the sword steady.”

“Don’t tremble.”

The tip of the sword thrust forward. Shen Zhou’s pupils contracted violently. He tried to withdraw the sword, but it was too late.

Warm blood instantly splattered into his eyes, turning his vision crimson. He could no longer see the other man’s face.