The old forest covered a considerable area, trapping most of Nanhuai Town’s residents due to the Soul-Returning Tree.
Now that the crisis had passed, the wounded lay everywhere.
Those with lighter injuries could still tend to themselves, while the severely injured could only wait for rescue where they fell.
As for the lifeless corpses, the shortage of hands made it impossible to collect them in time-which conveniently suited Shen Qi’s purposes.
Hovering mid-air, Shen Qi strolled leisurely through the woods, searching for a suitable candidate.
Disciples of Xuanling Sect would have been ideal, but after searching for a while, he couldn’t find a single one.
Shen Qi had no choice but to settle for an ordinary person’s identity for the time being.
Children wouldn’t do.
Neither would the elderly or the ugly.
Women were out of the question.
After some deliberation, he finally found a passable choice.
It was a boy of about fifteen or sixteen, not long dead, his three souls and seven spirits not yet fully dispersed.
Shen Qi examined his features -though gaunt and sallow, the boy could still be considered delicate and fair.
He would suffice for now.
Shen Qi stretched out his hand and made a grasping motion in the air, pulling over the lingering remnants of the boy’s soul.
The boy’s spirit was already weak, so it took little effort for Shen Qi to absorb his entire life’s memories before releasing the remnants to scatter into nothingness.
Approaching the corpse, Shen Qi scrutinized it carefully.
Then, with a faint ripple in the air around him, his tall, slender frame began to shift—shrinking, thinning, until it perfectly matched the boy’s stature.
When he finally removed his golden mask, the face revealed was the boy’s delicate, youthful one.
Only one final step remained.
Shen Qi eyed the corpse’s filthy clothes with undisguised disgust, hesitating for a long moment.
Only when he recalled his plans did he force himself to suppress his revulsion and change into the tattered, grimy garments.
After incinerating the boy’s corpse with a spell, Shen Qi summoned a water mirror and studied the unfamiliar face reflected in it, curling his lips into a wicked smirk.
It had been a long time since he’d felt such eager anticipation for something.
“That silly rabbit seems to hold some status. I’ll kill him only after I’ve had my fun. How about I turn him into a rabbit to keep you two company?”
Shen Qi flicked the tassel draped over his shoulder.
The golden cage earring was still in place—an extravagant accessory that clashed with this innocent, delicate face.
But his domineering aura was so overwhelming that the mismatch barely registered.
Having witnessed his bouts of madness time and again, the Chi Xiong brothers were long past surprise.
They merely exchanged a glance and spared a moment of silent pity for the next poor soul in line.
This lunatic might be asking them, but he didn’t actually need an answer.
Sure enough, Shen Qi didn’t wait for one. Instead, he practiced expressions in the mirror-fearful, timid, vulnerable.
The boy’s guileless face suited such weak, pitiful looks perfectly.
The more deceptive something appeared, the more shocking the truth would be when revealed.
The thought sent his blood boiling with excitement.
Shen Qi narrowed his eyes in pleasure, roughly shaking the earring as he removed it.
“Now, where should I put you two?”
“…”
The sudden shift in focus made the Chi Xiong brothers curse inwardly, bracing for whatever fresh torment he had in store.
Fortunately, Shen Qi’s attention had already moved on, and he lost interest in tormenting them—for now.
He wrapped the tassel around his wrist, and in an instant, the ornate golden earring transformed into an unremarkable wooden bracelet, carved with two nondescript birds.
Everything was ready.
After confirming Mu Congyun’s location by listening carefully, Shen Qi eagerly went to lie in wait for his prey.
By the afternoon, most of the injured from the old forest had been transported back to town.
Nearby sects and local authorities, having received word of the incident, had dispatched personnel who were now arriving in succession.
Mu Congyun assigned Jin Ni to liaise with these groups while he remained in the old forest with a team.
Their tasks were to collect the dead and repeatedly verify that no survivors had been overlooked.
To ensure thoroughness, Mu Congyun tirelessly combed through the forest on his sword, searching every corner.
During his third sweep, he suddenly heard rustling below. Not willing to overlook even the slightest possibility, he immediately descended to investigate.
The moment his feet touched the ground, he came face-to-face with a boy emerging from a thick layer of dead leaves and branches.
Both froze.
For Mu Congyun, it was an instinctive reaction.
The boy, however, was clearly terrified his wide, dark eyes brimming with fear as he instinctively shrank back halfway out of the debris.
Mu Congyun studied him: the boy appeared to be around fifteen or sixteen, gaunt and bony, his frail frame draped in a faded, threadbare gray-blue robe that hung loosely around him.
They stared at each other in silence.
After a long pause, Mu Congyun finally spoke: “Are you from Nanhuai Town?”
“…”
The boy kept his wary eyes fixed on him, refusing to answer.
Mu Congyun found himself at a loss, locked in an awkward staring contest as the silence stretched uncomfortably.
“…..”
After several tense moments, Mu Congyun suppressed his rising discomfort and carefully explained, “The danger in Nanhuai Town has been dealt with. You can go home now.”
Yet the boy remained motionless, his pitch-black eyes still fixed on him, neither speaking nor moving.
Mu Congyun began to feel a faint sense of suffocation.
Taking a deep breath, he fought his instinct to retreat and extended a hand.
“If you’re afraid, I can take you back.”
The boy blinked, his gaze dropping to the offered hand as if hesitating.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached out and took it.
The moment their palms touched, warmth passed between them—and both frowned simultaneously.
For Mu Congyun, it was discomfort at the unfamiliar contact.
For Shen Qi, it was something entirely foreign.
He had never been this physically close to anyone before.
Staring at their joined hands, his expression turned peculiar.
So this was what it felt like to hold someone’s hand.
He had assumed that the moment their hands touched, he would lose control and reveal his true identity to kill the other.
But now that it had actually happened, he didn’t feel the overwhelming revulsion or unbearable disgust he had expected.
Unaware of the hidden meaning in the boy’s gaze, Mu Congyun tightened his grip and pulled him up.
Dead leaves and branches scattered as the boy emerged from the debris.
He was nearly as tall as Mu Congyun, but his body was alarmingly thin-his bones protruding sharply beneath his skin, a clear sign of malnutrition.
Looking at him, Mu Congyun was reminded of himself when he first transmigrated into this world.
The original owner of his body had been an orphaned beggar who starved to death in a dilapidated temple after failing to scavenge food.
When Mu Congyun first woke in that body, he had been unable to accept his miserable fate or overcome his fear of begging.
Resigned to his despair, he had thought, I’d rather die than go out and beg for scraps, and had simply waited for death in that temple.
Back then, he must have looked even more wretched than the boy before him now.
If not for his master passing by and taking him in, he would have long since reincarnated.
Looking at the youth who found himself in the same predicament he once faced, Mu Congyun felt a pang of sympathy.
“I’ll take you back to town,” he said, then summoned his sword to carry them away.
Shen Qi stood behind him, hand in hand.
His gaze roamed freely over Mu Congyun’s exposed back, a mocking smirk tugging at his lips.
This foolish rabbit wasn’t putting on an act after all.
Soft-hearted and easily deceived.
Someone like this would have died a hundred times over out in the world.
Now that he’d fallen into his hands, who knew if it was fortune or misfortune?
Mu Congyun brought the boy back to Nanhuai Town.
An ordinary person would have thanked him and gone to find their family.
But the youth simply stood silently beside him, his clear black- and-white eyes fixed on Mu Congyun-nothing in them but lingering wariness.
He seemed even less talkative than Mu Congyun himself.
With a sigh, Mu Congyun took him to find the town chief.
The chief was injured, though not seriously, and was busy registering survivors house by house. Spotting Mu Congyun from afar, he hurried over, bowing repeatedly and addressing him as “Immortal Master.”
The chief’s enthusiasm left Mu Congyun somewhat flustered, but remembering his purpose, he gestured to the boy beside him.
“I found him in the old woods, but he wouldn’t say where his home is. I’ll leave him in your care.”
The chief looked at the boy in surprise.
“This little fool’s got some luck.”
Then he shook his head and sighed.
“Immortal Master, you may not know-he’s grown up on the town’s charity, usually living under the bridge east of town.”
He tapped his temple.
“He’s not all there. Folks call him ‘Little Fool.’ Whoever has leftovers gives him a bite.”
Hearing the chief call the boy “Little Fool,” Mu Congyun frowned instinctively.
Though the youth was quiet, he clearly understood and could communicate-hardly a true fool.
He glanced at the boy, who remained silent, eyes downcast.
“Is there somewhere to house him?” Mu Congyun asked.
The chief hesitated. “With the town in ruins, I’m afraid…”
Afraid no one would take in a fool.
Understanding the implication, Mu Congyun thought for a moment.
“Then I’ll take responsibility for him.”
He led the boy away again.
Mu Congyun brought him to Old Man Zhao’s house.
Old Man Zhao had stayed behind in the woods with the tree spirit, leaving his home empty.
Jin Ni had commandeered it as a resting place for the injured disciples.
The house wasn’t large. The lightly wounded had given up their rooms to those more seriously hurt, resorting to meditating in the courtyard or even perched in the trees.
Before Mu Congyun entered, the disciples had been chatting in small groups, the atmosphere lively.
But the moment he stepped over the threshold, it was as if someone had hit mute-everyone fell silent.
Those meditating straightened their backs, murmuring cultivation mantras; those treating wounds hastily adjusted their robes and sat properly; and the one lounging on a tree branch, legs swinging, now hid behind the leaves as if wishing he could vanish back into the wood.
Sensing the abrupt shift in mood, Mu Congyun sighed inwardly.
He led the boy to Xu Yao and instructed, “Find him a place to stay. He’ll remain with us for now—we’ll arrange something more permanent before we leave.”
Xu Yao stood ramrod straight, nodding like a chicken pecking at rice.
Seeing everyone on high alert, Mu Congyun gave a slight nod before departing on his sword—he had even vacated his previous room.
Given his high cultivation level, he could easily substitute sleep with meditation.
Shen Qi observed all this, the corners of his lips curling almost imperceptibly.
Though this new identity was far from respectable, it proved unexpectedly useful.
Interesting.
Only after the senior brother left did Xu Yao relax, calling out to Shen Qi:
“There really aren’t any spare rooms left. For the next few days, you’ll have to squeeze in with me under the eaves.”