Even held in Mu Zhe's arms, Shen Gurong's grip remained firm. He seemed determined to go home, to strangle himself here.
No matter how hard Mu Zhe tried, he couldn't pry Shen Gurong's hands off, nearly going mad: "Master! Master..."
Finally, he had no choice but to forcibly use his cultivation to probe Shen Gurong's consciousness. A sudden jolt ran through him; Shen Gurong's eyes instantly glazed over, his body limp in Mu Zhe's arms, completely unconscious.
Mu Zhe held him, staring blankly at him for a long time before finally pulling him tightly into his arms.
Overwhelming fear nearly engulfed him.
If he had arrived even a moment later, would his master have truly strangled himself to death in this filthy wasteland?
What had he encountered in Fengdu that made him so ruthless towards himself?
Mu Zhe held him for a long time, until his hands had completely calmed down, before he, his eyes red-rimmed, lifted Shen Gurong into his arms.
The Daoist Contract scattered around, slowly leading to a path leading to Fengdu.
Shen Gurong hadn't gone too far from Fengdu, and Mu Zhe quickly carried him to the Spirit Boat.
Yu Xinghe was waiting there, and seeing the two return, he immediately waved happily: "Master, Senior Brother... Hmm? What's wrong with Master?"
He hurriedly jumped down from the Spirit Boat and walked over quickly.
Mu Zhe's face was gloomy. He glanced coldly at the gates of Fengdu and said, "There's a problem with Fengdu. I'll go with you to see it tomorrow."
Yu Xinghe nodded, looking worriedly at Shen Gurong in his arms: "Master, he..."
Mu Zhe didn't say more, but raised his hand and flicked out the mustard seed, which transformed into the enormous Fanjiang Residence on the spot.
"Master needs to rest, don't disturb him."
Yu Xinghe obediently replied, "Okay."
Mu Zhe carried Shen Gurong into the mustard seed.
Shen Gurong slept soundly for the entire night, and Mu Zhe sat by his bedside to keep him company.
When searching for Shen Gurong, Mu Zhe initially followed the Daoist Contract towards Fengdu, but shortly after entering, the Daoist Contract suddenly flew out of the city like a madman, finally landing in a desolate area.
Shen Gurong, with white hair and dressed in green, was weeping and clutching his own neck.
Mu Zhe didn't know what had happened to Shen Gurong, but he was certain that his usually flamboyant and carefree master couldn't be so cruel as to end his own life in the most painful and agonizing way; Fengdu was definitely involved.
Mu Zhe gripped Shen Gurong's cold hand tightly, his heart pounding as if it would burst from his chest.
He suddenly had a strange premonition that his previously witty, flamboyant, and fiery little master... might not return.
Mu Zhe quietly stayed by his side all night. At dawn, a startled cry suddenly came from outside Fanjiang Residence.
Mu Zhe hesitated for a moment before gently placing Shen Gurong's hand back under the quilt and turning to leave Fanjiang Residence.
Yu Xinghe was on the painted boat, having just gotten up, rubbing his eyes, his clothes disheveled.
Mu Zhe asked, "What's wrong?"
Yu Xinghe pointed a trembling finger at Fengdu not far away, his eyes filled with terror: "Senior brother, Fengdu..."
Mu Zhe looked up, his pupils suddenly contracting.
Fengdu, which had been a normal city last night, seemed to have had its illusion dispelled by the light of dawn, revealing its true form.
The entire city looked as if it had been scorched by fire, blackened charred marks everywhere, ruins scattered all around, even half of the city gate had collapsed, and the long, burnt-down street inside could be vaguely seen.
Above the half-destroyed city, a mostly burned city plaque was visible.
Two characters were clearly visible on it.
Yu Xinghe murmured, "Huitang..."
The next instant, a bolt of lightning suddenly struck from the sky, seemingly to deter something.
Yu Xinghe nearly jumped up in fright, asking in astonishment, "What happened? What happened?"
Mu Zhe glanced at the cloudless sky with a grim expression, coldly saying, "Nothing, just that we may have disturbed some saint."
Yu Xinghe looked completely bewildered: "Huh? What?"
Mu Zhe didn't speak again.
He was already at the Mahayana stage, and when the lightning struck, he could distinguish whether it was a saint's deterrence or a punishment from the Heavenly Dao.
Heavenly lightning punishments are often swift and brutal, striking down before anyone has a chance to react.
But the lightning bolt just now was struck by the power of a cultivator.
There are enlightened saints who observe the Three Realms, forbidding anyone from uttering the words "Huitang City."
The only one who has ascended to sainthood in the Three Realms and severed all karmic ties is Nan Yangjun of Liren Peak.
Nanyang.
Yu Xinghe merely uttered two words, "Huitang," and Nan Yangjun, thousands of miles away, sent down a heavenly lightning warning. Is he... concealing something?
And he has already ascended for many years, yet he remains in the Three Realms. Is it because something has become an obsession, something he cannot let go of?
Mu Zhe vaguely sensed that he had discovered something extraordinary, but dared not delve into it.
The two entered Huitang City. Everywhere were traces of burning; just looking at those traces revealed the magnitude of the fire that had ignited, enough to reduce the entire city to such a state.
The city was filled with ghosts, yet no trace of them remained.
Yu Xinghe felt a little frightened and stammered, "It seems we can't find any clues here during the day."
Perhaps only when the city gates were wide open at night could they learn clues about the thirteen plague demons from the ghosts.
Mu Zhe pondered for a while before nodding, "Alright, we'll come back tonight."
Mu Zhe made them feel incredibly safe.
Yu Xinghe, who was terrified of the ghost city, now had her eyes light up and nodded frantically, "Yes, yes!"
Mu Zhe absentmindedly left Huitang City, gave Yu Xinghe a few instructions, and then went into Fanjiang Residence.
Shen Gurong had already woken up and was kneeling beside a small table, his eyes lowered as he held a pen and wrote something on a piece of paper.
His mood appeared very gentle, his expression relaxed. His white hair was tied up high with a ribbon, and he wore Mu Zhe's blue outer robe. One hand supported his chin, while the other casually wrote something on the paper.
He looked both carefree and energetic, a slight smile playing on his lips, his eyes constantly glancing out the window, as if plotting to sneak out and play.
He had lost both the feigned composure he possessed as Shen Feng Xue and the hysterical despair of yesterday, a desire to strangle himself.
If it weren't for the still-present, glaring bruises and marks on his neck, Mu Zhe would almost have thought last night's events were just a nightmare.
Seeing that Shen Gurong had returned to normal, Mu Zhe subtly breathed a sigh of relief. He walked over and knelt opposite Shen Gurong, softly saying, "Master."
Shen Gurong seemed not to see him, still writing something on the paper.
Mu Zhe didn't notice anything amiss, but leaned closer to glance at it, discovering that Shen Gurong's handwriting was exactly the same as the one Shen Feng Xue had taught him in his previous life.
Mu Zhe froze.
In this life, Shen Feng Xue's handwriting was completely different from his previous one, as if he had deliberately altered it. Shen Gurong, after impersonating Shen Feng Xue, seemed to be intentionally mimicking his handwriting to avoid being discovered as a "possessed" individual. Therefore, Mu Zhe didn't notice the change in handwriting at first.
But now… Mu Zhe took a deep breath, forced a smile, and whispered, "What is Master copying?"
Shen Gurong ignored him, idly twirling a lock of white hair hanging over his shoulder. Perhaps annoyed by copying, he put the lock of hair in his mouth and gently bit it, mumbled, "I don't want to copy books."
Mu Zhe was stunned.
While frantically copying the book, Shen Gurong mumbled a complaint, "I want to go out and play, I don't want to copy."
Mu Zhe finally realized something was wrong. He grabbed Shen Gurong's hand and asked with difficulty, "Master?"
Shen Gurong glanced at him blankly beneath his icy gaze, but quickly looked away without actually touching him, continuing to bury himself in copying the annoying book.
Mu Zhe sat beside him, watching with trepidation.
Shen Gurong was copying the 'Di Zi Gui' and 'Xue Ji'. His handwriting was strong and elegant, initially quite neat, but the more he copied, the more irritable he became, his desire to play growing stronger. Finally, when he reached the line "To restrain before it is done is called foresight; to act when it is permissible is called timeliness," he bit his pen, thought for a moment, and muttered, "Letting me go out and play is the most appropriate way to teach a calligraphy student, isn't it?"
He secretly wrote the word "play" stroke by stroke in the lower right corner of the paper.
Want to play.
Mu Zhe's heart nearly leaped into his throat. He stepped forward with difficulty, raising his hand to cup Shen Gurong's cheek, murmuring, "Master, do you...do you recognize me?"
Shen Gurong was forced to look at him, their eyes finally meeting.
Mu Zhe's lips trembled, his gaze almost pleading.
Shen Gurong stared at him blankly for a long time, then suddenly exclaimed, "Ah!" and leaned closer, asking suspiciously, "Are you here to copy books for me?"
Mu Zhe froze.
Shen Gurong glanced slyly outside, seemingly worried that the teacher might suddenly arrive. He urged Mu Zhe, "Is that right?"
Mu Zhe didn't know how to answer. Meeting Shen Gurong's unfamiliar gaze, he nodded with difficulty after a long pause.
"Yes."
Shen Gurong was delighted and quickly pulled him to the desk, handing him a pen and pointing to a line in the notebook.
"Here," he said, "start copying from here. Make sure your handwriting is as good as possible."
Mu Zhe, still dazed, had a pen shoved into his head. He looked up blankly and saw Shen Gurong smiling at him, his chin resting on his hand.
"Don't let the teacher find out," Shen Gurong said, grinning as he climbed out the window and sneaked off to play.
Mu Zhe stood there stunned for a long time before suddenly throwing down the pen and chasing after him in terror.
Without Mu Zhe's permission, Shen Gurong couldn't leave the mustard seed chamber.
Fanjiang Residence was enormous. Shen Gurong wandered around several times, unable to find anything interesting, so he went to a sycamore tree in the side courtyard. He nimbly climbed up, sat on a branch swinging his long legs, and pulled a small knife from his robes, beginning to carve the wooden puppet in his hands.
Mu Zhe had already come to his senses. He figured his little master must have suffered some kind of shock, otherwise his behavior wouldn't have been so strange, as if… he was deliberately avoiding something.
He lightly climbed the tree and sat beside Shen Gurong, staring intently at him.
Shen Gurong ignored him again, continuing to carve the puppet's features while softly humming a tune.
Mu Zhe listened carefully and realized he was humming a widely circulated opera tune from the mortal world. He sang it quite well, but the lyrics were entirely in literary form—a string of insults. Although there wasn't a single vulgar word, a close listen revealed it was pure cursing.
The wooden puppet in Shen Gurong's hands was the one Lin Shuhe had given him.
Lin Shuhe had only casually carved a vague set of facial features, but Shen Gurong, with a small knife, had carved them casually for a while, and the features were now fully formed.
Mu Zhe leaned closer to look, his pupils suddenly contracting.
The features were exactly like Mu Zhe's.
No, only very similar to Mu Zhe.
The puppet was only the size of a palm, its features exquisitely carved, with a small emerald hairpin holding up half of its black hair, the rest flowing down its back.
Gentle as water, warm as jade.
The wooden puppet resembled Mu Zhe, yet it was not Mu Zhe.
Sure enough.
After carving the features, Shen Gurong carefully carved two characters on the back of the puppet—"Feng Xue"
The handwriting was exactly the same as on the bamboo flute.
After carving the characters, Shen Gurong looked at the puppet with satisfaction, his toes pointed, his legs swinging back and forth, the layers of his robes seeming to flutter like butterflies, his eyes filled with joy.
He brushed the wood shavings off his clothes and happily pinched the puppet: "Sir, I've done a good job!"
Mu Zhe's face turned pale.
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