The reliable Mu Zhe led his master to his room, stroking his hair until midnight before finally leaving the main residence, satisfied.
Mu Zhe walked out slowly, then, worried that the ever-burning lamps in the courtyard might disturb Shen Gurong's sleep, he casually flicked a light, turning off a few lamps before heading to the side room.
Xiwu still lived in the side courtyard, which Mu Zhe was quite content with. After all, the side room in the main courtyard of Fanjiang Residence was much closer to his master than the side courtyard, allowing him to be by Shen Gurong's side instantly no matter what happened.
He casually extinguished lamps as he walked, and by the time he reached the side room, a thick fog and pitch-black darkness enveloped him.
Mu Zhe withdrew his hand and said calmly, "It's so late, is there something you need?"
Suddenly, Qingyu emerged upside down from the jujube tree beside the side room, his hands claw-like. He let out a "whoosh" and grinned, saying, "Were you startled?"
Mu Zhe glanced at him: "Childish."
Qingyu laughed and jumped down from the tree, saying, "I thought you were going to stay in the Holy Lord's room tonight."
Mu Zhe scolded him, "Don't talk nonsense—wasn't the Chanwei Assembly over? Why are you still here?"
"The demons haven't left yet," Qingyu said. "I heard the Demon Lord wants to wait for the Holy Lord to wake up so he can break the contract with Xue Manzhuang, so he's staying a few more days."
Mu Zhe didn't say anything, pushed open the door and entered the room. He flicked his finger, and a flame instantly ignited on the table, illuminating the large room.
Qingyu strolled in, hands behind his back, still saying, "Think about it, all these people are clearly here for the divine artifact. Everyone knows the Demon Lord's wolfish ambitions, so how could they let him monopolize it? Naturally, they've all found excuses to stay."
Mu Zhe paused. "You know about the divine artifact?"
Qingyu smiled. "Everyone in the Three Realms knows about it."
Mu Zhe lowered his eyes slightly, concealing the coldness within them. "Indeed."
Qingyu didn't act like an outsider, casually sitting in a chair, swinging his legs back and forth. Suddenly, as if chatting idly, he said, "Mu Zhe, what do you think of me becoming the Demon Lord?"
Mu Zhe abruptly looked up.
Qingyu's face and eyes were full of undisguised laughter, his vibrant lips curving upwards. It seemed he was just joking. Seeing Mu Zhe look over, he even winked slightly, displaying a rather unpredictable and carefree attitude.
Mu Zhe said calmly, "Do you know what nonsense you're spouting?"
"Is this nonsense?" Qingyu still smiled. "The demon race resides in the Taozhou Great Swamp, which was originally the home of my fox clan thousands of years ago. It's only natural that I want to reclaim it."
Mu Zhe coldly replied, "Your cultivation is inferior to the Demon Lord's, and the phoenix is known as the immortal bird. You and he are like an egg striking a rock."
Qingyu blinked, his fox-like allure almost bewitching: "That's why I need your help."
Mu Zhe remained unmoved: "Where do you get the confidence to think I'd help someone completely unrelated to me?"
Qingyu rested his chin on his hand, lazily looking at Mu Zhe. He always smiled, seemingly genuinely, but to Mu Zhe, that fox smile was more of a calculated scheme and a barbed tongue full of cunning.
"Unrelated...is it?" Qingyu didn't seem hurt. He dipped his finger in the cold tea in his cup and lightly drew a circle on the sandalwood table, casually saying, "Mu Zhe, why do you think this Chanwei Assembly is being held on Liren Peak?"
Mu Zhe's eyes flickered slightly: "Why?"
"Liren Peak made an agreement with the demon race that the Holy Lord cannot descend the mountain for a hundred years."
Mu Zhe was taken aback, frowning. "Because of the divine artifact?"
"Not just because of the divine artifact," Qingyu said, "but also because of... that demonic cultivator beneath the burial mound on Liren Peak."
Mu Zhe's pupils contracted, and he gripped the sword hilt tightly, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force.
That demonic cultivator...was the culprit who caused Shen Feng Xue's tragic death in his previous life!
“That demonic cultivator committed countless evils, harming the Three Realms for many years. Legend has it that the Holy Lord pursued him for fifty years before finally sealing him in the Burial Mound, never to emerge again,” Qingyu shrugged. “But that demonic cultivator had committed countless murders; even lightning couldn’t kill him. How could a mere barrier formation possibly contain him?”
Mu Zhe’s thoughts raced. He coldly said, “You mean, the reason the Burial Mound was able to suppress that demonic cultivator is because my master is at Liren Peak?”
“Yes, your master even entrusted his natal sword to the Burial Mound,” Qingyu nodded. “Once he left the Burial Mound for too long, the barrier would become increasingly weak. Later, the Sect Leader of Liren Peak… oh, the former Sect Leader, who is your grandmaster, set up… The Boundary Spirit Tablet, nurtured by countless spirit stones, was what allowed your master to gain freedom."
"Then what does this have to do with the hundred-year agreement with the demon race?"
Qingyu glanced at him: "Why are you like Yu Xinghe? You don't even use your brain."
Mu Zhe drew his sword, his killing intent palpable: "This is the greatest insult to me."
Qingyu: "..."
Qingyu could only say: "Think about it. That demonic cultivator has been imprisoned in the Burial Mound for thirty years. Even if your Liren Peak is incredibly wealthy, it's not worth wasting spirit stones like this."
The spirit stones beneath the Boundary Spirit Tablet aren't just the thin layer visible on the surface; there are layers upon layers beneath, almost extending to the bottom of the mountain, and they consume tens of thousands of spirit stones every day.
Once the supply of spirit stones is cut off, it won't be long before that demonic cultivator escapes from the Burial Mound.
“Spirit stones, to put it simply, are just tangible spiritual energy,” Qingyu said. “And in the Great Swamp of Taozhou, the demon race has no shortage of spiritual veins.”
Mu Zhe paused, then seemed to understand something: “So the Demon Lord used the Great Swamp’s spiritual veins to trade with Nan Yangjun?”
“That’s right. Every ten years, the demon race would send a spiritual vein, supplemented with countless spirit stones, to completely suppress that demonic cultivator.”
Mu Zhe asked again, “Where do those spirit stones come from?”
Qingyu glared at him again: “You’re asking me? I’m not supposed to ask anyone! Your Liren Peak has always been so poor. I want to know where all those spirit stones come from? Do you even have spirit stone mines? How have you managed to survive for so many years?”
Mu Zhe: “Don’t you know everything?”
Qingyu: “Who said I know everything?”
“Then how do you know all this?”
“What’s it to you how I know?”
Mu Zhe: “…”
Why is this conversation so strange?
Qingyu, seemingly genuinely interested in winning him over, finally confessed, "After cultivating my demonic form, I awakened the inherited memories of the Nine-Tailed Fox. Combined with my years of traveling far and wide, I've gathered a considerable amount of information."
Mu Zhe frowned, remaining silent.
Seeing his continued refusal, Qingyu resorted to his final trump card: "The Demon Lord doesn't seem interested in the divine artifact, but he's made many enemies across the Three Realms over the years. If someone else obtains it and uses it against him, it will be extremely troublesome."
"Therefore, the Demon Lord has always adhered to the principle of 'Although I don't want it, no one else can have it either.' But now that the Holy Lord has left Liren Peak without permission, everyone in the Three Realms who knows about this is already openly and secretly vying for the divine artifact. The Demon Lord doesn't want to be a stepping stone for others. If I'm not mistaken, the Demon Lord probably won't send over the spiritual vein next year, which occurs only once every ten years."
Mu Zhe's gaze darkened.
Qingyu wasn't wrong. Putting himself in the Demon Lord's shoes, if he were the Demon Lord, and Liren Peak broke the agreement first, he wouldn't need to go to such lengths to prevent the divine artifact from being taken by someone else; he could simply cut off the spiritual power supply to the Boundary Spirit Tablet.
Since Shen Feng Xue harbors such resentment towards the demonic cultivator in the Burial Mound, he would probably enter the Burial Mound himself to suppress that demonic cultivator for life.
Keeping the divine artifact in a cage where no one can touch it is better than giving it free rein.
"Is it alright?" Qingyu pleaded, "Is it okay? Is it feasible?"
Mu Zhe was so annoyed by him that his thoughts were interrupted: "Shut up, let me think about it."
Qingyu immediately fell silent, resting his chin on his hand and watching Mu Zhe think seriously.
After an unknown amount of time, the candlelight on the table gradually dimmed.
Suddenly, a flame leaped up, illuminating half of their faces, one bright and the other shadowed. Then the flame leaped and went out completely.
In the pitch-black darkness, Qingyu slowly opened his fox-like eyes, which glowed faintly, his vertical pupils exuding a bewitching allure.
“How is it?”
Mu Zhe's voice was as clear as jade and as cold as ice: “What benefits can you offer me?”
Qingyu exhaled softly, chuckling, “A spiritual vein.”
“Something that will allow your master to be free for life…”
“The Great Swamp Spiritual Vein.”
Mu Zhe seemed to chuckle as well. In the darkness, he gently tapped the table, his tone indifferent.
“Deal.”
***
Shen Gurong had no recollection of when he fell asleep. When he woke up again, it was already the next day.
He had just gotten up when he heard footsteps outside.
Blind people suffer from a severe lack of security and are extremely easily startled; even the slightest noise can frighten them. Mu Zhe, dressed in blue, approached and gently knocked on the door before speaking, "Master, the Sect Leader said you should go to the Changying Mountain Council Hall after you wake up."
Shen Gurong, who was muttering to himself and trying to stay awake, paused upon hearing this, becoming more alert.
"Council Hall? Did he say what it was about?"
Mu Zhe replied, "The Demon Lord is there; it should be about your breaking of the contract with Xue Manzhuang."
Shen Gurong had almost forgotten about this and could only nod vaguely, "Okay, I understand."
Mu Zhe came over and skillfully dressed him, tying his belt. Shen Gurong, still half-asleep, managed to help him, but at this moment he was practically blind; he could tie two out of three belts wrong. Besides, he was going to an important occasion and couldn't afford to embarrass Liren Peak, so he had no choice but to let Mu Zhe do as he pleased.
As Mu Zhe fastened the sash around Shen Gurong's waist, he unfolded the bamboo-patterned sash, gently spreading his arms around Shen Gurong's waist from behind, almost pulling him into his embrace, pressing them very close.
Shen Gurong was extremely sleepy, enveloped by the warm breath, his waist went limp, and he instinctively rested his chin on Mu Zhe's shoulder.
Mu Zhe stiffened.
Soon, Shen Gurong also came to his senses, pretending nothing had happened, straightening up and mumbling, "Don't forget to bring me the jade marrow."
Mu Zhe snapped out of his daze, hastily fastening the sash and putting on the jade marrow, then supporting Shen Gurong's arm and leading him towards Fanjiang Residence.
Shen Gurong walked slowly, occasionally tripping over small pebbles and startling himself. After a while, Mu Zhe, while supporting him, cleared away all the obstacles in their path.
Shen Gurong felt much better.
He frowned and asked, "Did the Sect Leader say when the ice silk could be repaired?"
Mu Zhe flicked a nearby pebble to pieces and said gently, "The ice silk is completely destroyed. All the magic arrays on it are ruined. The Sect Leader said it's better to replace it with a new one than repair it, and he already asked Sixth Uncle to do it today."
Shen Gurong was taken aback: "Lin Shuhe?"
"Yes."
Shen Gurong shuddered, recalling the "ghostly debt collector" ice silk that had terrified him twice. He frowned and asked, "Can someone else make it?"
Mu Zhe looked troubled. "In the Three Realms, only Sixth Uncle can make ice silk."
Shen Gurong asked warily, "He won't smuggle anything else into the ice silk, will he?"
Like, a hanged ghost, a drowned ghost, a headless ghost, or something like that.
Mu Zhe couldn't help but chuckle, patting his forearm to reassure him. "No, Master. If you're afraid, I'll try it on for you when the ice silk arrives."
Shen Gurong breathed a sigh of relief, finding Mu Zhe incredibly considerate.
He nodded. "Okay, sure."
The two reached the suspension bridge. Shen Gurong, belatedly realizing what he said, frowned and said, "I'm not afraid."
Mu Zhe: "..."
Mu Zhe coughed lightly, suppressing a laugh, "It was my fault for speaking out of turn."
Shen Gurong readily accepted the opportunity, nodding earnestly and saying calmly, "Be careful next time."
Mu Zhe nodded cooperatively.
Shen Gurong knew he was fearless; he felt invincible.
Shen Gurong stepped onto the suspension bridge. A gust of wind blew, causing the bridge to sway. A wave of weightlessness washed over him, and the fear of falling off a cliff at any moment sent a chill down his spine.
His vision went black.
"Master, Master?"
When Shen Gurong came to his senses, he found himself sprawled high in the air, his legs tightly wrapped around Mu Zhe's waist, trembling as he clung to him.
Shen Gurong: "..."
Mu Zhe: "..."
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