Chapter 6: Many People

Looking at the aged and despondent old man, even the usually talkative Jin Ni fell silent, momentarily at a loss for words.

Master Chen and those who had harmed Old Zhao’s family had already paid with their lives. 

But the other townsfolk-those who had stood by indifferently were not guilty enough to die, and those who hadn’t been involved at all were entirely innocent.

Yet Old Zhao, knowing the truth, had concealed it for so long. 

Not only were most of Nanhuai Town’s residents implicated, but even the Xuangling disciples who came to help hadn’t been spared. He couldn’t be called innocent either.

But in these unreasonable times, Old Zhao likely never imagined that under the influence of the Corrosive Mist, the Prayer Tree would transform into a Soul-Returning Tree and spiral completely out of control.

If not for a sliver of remorse, he wouldn’t have brought the tree spirit here.

Jin Ni glanced at the lifeless Soul-Returning Tree, then thought of the countless people turned into trees across the mountains, still awaiting rescue. 

The situation felt overwhelming.

Instinctively, he turned to Mu Congyun. “Senior Brother, what do we do now?”

Unfazed by the somber mood, Mu Congyun had been crouched before the remnants of the tree stump, studying it intently. 

Only when Jin Ni spoke did he respond, “It’s not dead yet.”

Though its roots had been heavily corroded by dragon’s blood, a faint trace of vitality remained.

Ignoring the others’ surprised and hopeful expressions, he turned to the wooden figurine in the swaddling clothes. 

“If I can revive the Soul- Returning Tree and restore you to it, can you return the people in the forest to normal?”

The previously inconspicuous figurine blinked its eyes at last.

Afraid they wouldn’t understand, Old Zhao hastily added, “Lingshan says yes.”

Mu Congyun nodded before continuing, “I once learned of a forbidden art that allows two individuals to share their lifespans but they must be blood-related. Essentially, the longer-lived one’s years are transferred to the shorter-lived one.”

“The Soul-Returning Tree is dying. To preserve its vitality, you must share your lifespan with it.”

“I’m willing.” 

The despondence on Old Zhao’s face vanished, replaced by fervor. 

He lunged forward, gripping Mu Congyun’s hand, repeating urgently, “I’m willing! I’m willing!”

Mu Congyun stiffened at the sudden contact but restrained himself from reacting harshly. 

Withdrawing his hand, he clarified further, “You’re already past sixty. At best, you might have three or four decades left. If your lifespan is shorter, it could be mere years. Once you share with the tree, if your life ends before it fully recovers, both of you will perish.”

Whether as the Prayer Tree or the Soul-Returning Tree, its lifespan was meant to be endless. 

But now, eroded by the Corrosive Mist and damaged at its core, sharing lifespans was merely a gamble—a desperate bid to sustain its dwindling vitality.

It could live-or it could die.

Yet Old Zhao disregarded all consequences, still chanting feverishly, “I’m willing, I’m willing,” his demeanor bordering on madness.

Seeing this, Mu Congyun said no more. 

He instructed Old Zhao to sit atop the tree stump with the figurine, while Jin Ni and Xu Yao arranged the required formation. 

Only then did he begin the ritual.

Standing at the formation’s center, his fingers wove intricate seals as profound spiritual energy poured forth, converging into the array. 

A radiant green light bloomed, splitting into three streams that flowed into Old Zhao, the tree spirit, and the remnants of the stump below.

Mu Congyun once again drew his sword and pierced Elder Zhao’s forehead, extracting two drops of vital blood essence to blend into the formation.

The flickering green light within the array fully contracted, completely absorbed into the three entities.

“It’s done.”

Mu Congyun sheathed his sword, looking at Elder Zhao, who had aged even more. 

“The tree spirit has returned to its place, and the vitality of the Soul-Returning Tree has been preserved. But whether it ultimately survives depends on its fate. If it sprouts again next spring, it may yet live.”

Elder Zhao glanced at the wooden statue in his arms, now covered in cracks, and grinned. 

He placed the statue on the tree stump, lovingly tracing the patterns on its surface. 

“This is enough.”

Dragging his increasingly heavy body, he sat down beside the Soul-Returning Tree. 

“I’ll keep watch over it here.”

“Now it’s your turn to fulfill your promise,” Mu Congyun said, turning his gaze to the motionless tree.

The Soul-Returning Tree could not respond, but a sudden gentle breeze stirred the stagnant air. 

Jin Li and Xu Yao felt an inexplicable lightness, as though some unseen karmic debt had been resolved, and they exhaled in relief.

Mu Congyun, however, felt nothing out of the ordinary. 

Hearing voices gradually rising from the forest, he took the lead. 

“Let’s go save people.”

*

The casualties in Nanhuai Town were devastating.

Even the disciples of Xuanling, all cultivators, suffered losses. 

The frail common folk fared far worse.

Those with better luck escaped with only injuries and flesh wounds. The unlucky ones had already become corpses.

Three groups of Xuanling disciples, totaling twenty-seven, had come to Nanhuai Town for support, including Mu Congyun’s party. 

But when the final headcount was taken, only twenty-four remained.

Three had perished, and over a dozen others were wounded.

After sending word back to Xuanling, Mu Congyun instructed Jin Li to contact local sects and mortal authorities for reinforcements.

But before help arrived, they had to rely on themselves.

Even Mu Congyun had to step up.

While tending to a child with a broken leg, the little one wailed in pain. 

Too young to understand why he had woken up in an unfamiliar place far from home, the boy thrashed and cried for his parents. 

But with Nanhuai Town in chaos, no one knew where or if his parents were.

Mu Congyun was never one for comforting children, but seeing the boy’s pitiful state, he hesitated before fishing a piece of candy from his storage pouch. 

He unwrapped it and popped it into the child’s mouth, then awkwardly patted his head. 

“Be good. Once we fix your leg, I’ll take you to find your parents.”

The sweetness calmed the boy, and his cries gradually quieted. 

Still sniffling with red-rimmed eyes, he watched Mu Congyun bandage his leg with a pout.

Mu Congyun exhaled in relief and quickly finished the treatment before carrying the child to where the wounded were being gathered. 

Xu Yao had rallied the surviving townsfolk, organizing them to transport the injured on ox carts and horse-drawn wagons into the old forest.

When the boy was placed in line, he shrank back into Mu Congyun’s arms at the sight of so many strangers.

Mu Congyun stiffened slightly but asked, “Do you recognize anyone here?”

The boy hesitated, peering around before pointing at someone in the crowd. “Auntie Zhang.”

Mu Congyun left the child in the care of Aunt Zhang. 

Before departing, he took out all the remaining candies from his storage pouch and gave them to the boy.

The child hugged the candies and watched him silently. 

Seeing that Mu Congyun was about to leave without a word, he hastily remembered his parents’ teachings and called out, “Thank you, Immortal Brother.”

Mu Congyun paused mid-step, glancing back at him, unsure how to respond.

In the end, he merely nodded before turning away to search elsewhere for any remaining injured survivors.

*

Shen Qi rushed to Dongzhou City and chose the largest inn. 

After ordering the attendant to prepare twelve buckets of water, he locked himself in his room and never stepped out again.

His body was covered in dried blood, and his enchanted robes were beyond salvage.

Ever since emerging from the swamp in his past life, he could no longer tolerate even the slightest trace of filth.

It took ten buckets of water-scrubbing until his skin felt raw—before the unbearable disgust finally subsided.

He filled another bucket with clean water and submerged himself completely, only to frown again.

Annoyed, he rapped his knuckles against the edge of the tub, his cold voice still laced with lingering malice. 

“The water’s gone cold.”

The red hawks trapped in the golden cage dared not protest, suppressing their anger as they silently reheated the water with magic. 

“Too hot.” 

Shen Qi remained displeased.

“Too cold.”

After several rounds of this, his patience had worn thin. 

His voice turned sinister. 

“If you can’t even handle such a simple task, perhaps keeping you around is pointless. Maybe I should pluck your feathers, skewer you, and roast you for stray dogs.”

The hawk brothers: “…”

Fearing he might actually follow through, they finally adjusted the temperature to a perfect lukewarm.

Satisfied, Shen Qi let out a soft hum through his nose and poured a bottle of healing elixir into the water before closing his eyes to rest. 

Only after half an hour did he reopen them and rise from the bath.

A bronze mirror stood in the bathing chamber. 

Instead of changing immediately, he walked over slowly, examining the scars on his body with meticulous scrutiny.

The blurred reflection showed a young man’s slender, gaunt frame, his pallid skin marred by dark, unsightly scars. 

Paired with his exquisitely handsome face, the contrast was jarring.

If his human form was already this hideous, the thought of his grotesque dragon body only deepened his gloom, his eyes darkening with revulsion.

In his past life, at this age, he had not yet turned seventeen. 

After leaving Tianwaitian, he had wandered the Western Regions for five years, still searching for a fire essence to replace his missing heart-scale. 

Naturally, his body had been frail and emaciated.

The wounds from the corrosive mist had healed after soaking in the elixir, leaving no trace. 

But this body had suffered too many hidden injuries in the past, and having his scales torn off during his drakeling stage had stunted their regrowth.

Even after his return, despite cultivating relentlessly and seeking rare treasures to mend his form, it could never compare to its original state.

Shen Qi clenched his jaw, forcing himself to examine each and every scar, his mood worsening by the second.

He needed to vent his displeasure quickly.

And nothing lifted his spirits quite like ruining someone else’s day.

A figure clad in pristine white flashed through his mind.

With a derisive chuckle, Shen Qi donned his enchanted robes and headed straight for Nanhuai Town.

Nanhuai Town was nothing like before.

The gray mist that had shrouded the entire town had dissipated, replaced by the golden glow of summer sunlight that banished the lingering gloom. 

The once-silent streets were now bustling with carriages and pedestrians, the clamor almost deafening.

Watching the smiles on the faces of the mortals below, the displeasure accumulated in his heart surged once more.

Having failed to find his target in the town, Shen Qi headed straight for the old forest.

Relying on his superior cultivation, he concealed his form and searched one by one.

When he finally caught sight of that white figure, his human pupils abruptly transformed into vertical golden slits, fixing on Mu Congyun with fervent intensity.

Mu Congyun moved through the forest searching for the injured, occasionally stopping to help carry someone, his mood deeply gloomy.

In this single day and night, he had seen more people and spoken more words than in the past several years combined-not to mention those who had stealthily observed him or even rushed forward to grab his hands with repeated thanks.

At such moments, he always envied Jin Ni, who moved through crowds with effortless ease, seemingly forever brimming with energy.

Yet after just this brief span of time, he already felt an unprecedented exhaustion.

All he wanted was to finish this as quickly as possible and find some deserted place to withdraw into himself.

While Mu Congyun’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, his face remained expressionless as he continued his search on his sword. 

Suddenly, he sensed an intensely palpable gaze from behind. 

Even though he had grown somewhat numb to being watched, this one instantly made him uncomfortable.

Suppressing the urge to immediately flee on his sword, Mu Congyun pressed on with his meticulous search of the mountain.

Shen Qi maintained a distance of two zhang, earnestly contemplating how to deal with him.

Kill him outright?

Not satisfying enough—no good.

Capture him and throw him into the dungeons of the Heavenly Son’s Palace to suffer for years?

No, the dungeons were too filthy; he would never set foot there.

Wouldn’t that just deprive him of much amusement?

After eliminating one option after another, Shen Qi watched as Mu Congyun bent down to help an injured villager to his feet-and suddenly, a brilliant idea struck him.

A malicious smile spread across his face as he turned and headed in another direction.