As he spoke, he reached out to clap Shen Qi’s shoulder, but his hand met empty air.
Puzzled, he looked over to find Shen Qi frowning at him, his eyes filled with what seemed like disdain.
Xu Yao: ???
He wondered if he had misread the expression, but before he could scrutinize further, Shen Qi turned and walked away without a word.
“Hey, where are you going?”
Not daring to neglect the senior brother’s instructions, Xu Yao hurried after him, reaching out to grab Shen Qi’s arm.
Once again, his hand grasped nothing.
Baffled, he stared at his repeatedly empty hand before chasing after Shen Qi, chattering incessantly:
“The resting area is over there. It might be a bit rough, but at least it’s a place to stay. If you find it too shabby, we can arrange something better before we leave…”
So noisy.
Shen Qi clenched his fingers, a flash of killing intent flickering in his eyes.
But upon spotting the white-robed figure on the rooftop ahead, he quickly reined it in.
In this short time, he had already gauged the other’s temperament. Without a word, he walked to the base of the roof and sat down.
Xu Yao glanced between the meditating senior brother on the roof and Shen Qi under the eaves, thinking rebelliously to himself: Two mute gourds together-what a headache.
Disturbed by the commotion, Mu Congyun noticed the stubborn figure sitting beneath the eaves and instantly understood his intent.
“If he wants to stay there, let him be. Don’t bother him.”
Xu Yao acknowledged the order and stopped pestering Shen Qi, turning back.
Mu Congyun closed his eyes and resumed meditation.
Yet moments later, he couldn’t help but open them again to study the youth below.
The boy sat quietly, staring at the ground as if lost in thought.
But based on Mu Congyun’s experience, he was probably just spacing out.
This youth gave him a strange sense of kinship, as if they were cut from the same cloth.
But that was all. He wasn’t the type to initiate closeness.
After staring absentmindedly for a while, he returned to meditation.
Shen Qi’s expression darkened as he hung his head.
He was a man of refined tastes, and sitting on the bare ground was already pushing his limits.
But since he had endured this much, throwing a fit over such a trivial matter would only spoil the fun.
With his back to Mu Congyun, he sulkily drooped his eyelids, idly toying with the wooden bracelet on his wrist.
Watching the two carved birds on its surface flutter their wings, he finally felt slightly better.
*
The aftermath of the Nanhuai Town incident was gradually handed over to the local authorities and sects.
With the townsfolk’s post- disaster recovery on track, the Xuanling sect members prepared to return to their mountain after five additional days in town. Before their departure, Mu Congyun pondered how to handle the little shadow trailing behind him.
For the past five days, the youth had followed him like a silent shadow.
He never spoke, nor did he actively approach—simply maintaining a fixed distance.
When Mu Congyun meditated on the rooftop, the boy sat beneath the eaves.
When Mu Congyun went out on errands, the boy trailed behind.
He was highly wary, refusing to accept anything from anyone in Xuanling except the food Mu Congyun gave him.
His stubbornness gave Mu Congyun a headache.
After much deliberation, Mu Congyun went to the old forest to find Old Man Zhao.
The boy had no family, and none of the other townsfolk were willing to take him in.
After careful consideration, the best arrangement Mu Congyun could think of was to find him a stable place to stay and leave him with enough silver to sustain himself.
Old Man Zhao had already decided to remain in the old forest.
Mu Congyun had set up a barrier around the tree stump, preventing ordinary people from accidentally wandering in.
Old Man Zhao had chosen a flat spot, gathered dry branches, and built a simple thatched shelter. Aside from venturing out for food, he spent all his time guarding the tree spirit.
When Mu Congyun mentioned letting the boy stay in the house, Old Man Zhao thought for a long moment before recalling,
“Ah, I remember him—that poor little fool under the bridge. The house is no use to me now. He can stay if he wants. The deed is hidden under the sixth brick at the head of the bed.”
With Old Man Zhao’s permission secured, Mu Congyun went to see the town chief.
He handed over ten taels of silver, instructing him to hold onto it for the boy. If the boy ever fell into hardship again, this would at least keep him from begging.
The remaining ten taels he personally delivered to the boy.
“Take this silver. It’s not much, but it should be enough to sustain you for a while. You can stay in Old Man Zhao’s house without worry. Once the town recovers, you can find odd jobs there-enough to keep yourself fed.”
He racked his brain to pass on his meager survival skills, looking at the silent boy with rare concern.
“I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. You…”
He paused, then said solemnly, “Live well. Things will get better.”
These were words he had never spoken to himself in the past, yet now he was saying them to a boy who resembled him.
He felt as though some shackle within him had broken, leaving him strangely light.
Shen Qi stared at the silver in his hand, then at Mu Congyun.
That cold, detached face showed no emotion, like a snow-capped mountain veiled in mist—chilling even from a distance, deterring any approach.
Yet this very same aloof man had meticulously arranged a future for a stranger he had only just met.
Since when did the hypocrites of the cultivation world show such kindness?
Then why had they been so cruel to him alone?
Where were these kind souls when the Heartscale he had painstakingly sought was ripped from him to repair the Ten Directions Grand Array?
Where were they when, stripped of his cultivation, humiliated by the arrogant, his scales torn, horns broken, tendons severed, and marrow extracted, he was cast into the Endless Abyss to struggle for survival?
Was he unworthy?
A surge of fury blazed in Shen Qi’s chest, and his resentment spilled over onto the man before him.
Darkness swirled in his pitch-black eyes, his fingers curling into claws at his sides-itching to tear the man apart.
But not yet. That would be too merciful.
The urge to destroy roared within him, his fingertips trembling with restraint.
With a sneer, he glanced at the silver in his palm, then turned and strode away.
If he stayed any longer, he feared he would lose control and paint the town red.
Seeing the young man accept the silver and turn to leave, Mu Congyun let out a slight sigh of relief.
Having finally resolved his most troublesome concern, he leaped onto the rooftop with newfound lightness, meditating and regulating his breath under the moonlight.
Once alone, Shen Qi no longer restrained himself. He gazed at the broken silver in his palm for a long moment before slowly closing his fingers, crushing the silver pieces into powder.
The silvery powder trickled through his fingers, dusting the dark earth with patchy snow-like flecks.
Shen Qi watched unblinkingly, his mind already plotting how after infiltrating Xuanling and achieving his goal, this very “benefactor” would be the first to fall to his blade.
This world was so filthy it made him sick.
So-called kindness was merely a matter of who it was directed toward.
With a derisive snort, Shen Qi stepped over the scattered silver powder, his retreating figure merging seamlessly with the darkness.
*
Early the next morning, Mu Congyun’s group set out to return to Xuanling.
To avoid farewells from the townspeople, they departed before dawn.
With injured members in their party unable to sustain prolonged sword flight, it was fortunate Mu Congyun had brought two puppet-drawn carriages in his storage bag as a precaution.
These carriages, powered by spiritual energy from the driver, could travel several times faster than ordinary ones.
Unwilling to crowd inside with others, Mu Congyun volunteered to drive.
The junior disciples dared not let their senior brother play coachman, but under his icy gaze, they shrank back, none daring to object.
Sitting on the carriage shaft with his sword, Mu Congyun watched the winding road ahead, feeling a rare sense of anticipation.
He couldn’t wait to return to his safe harbor.
The carriage wheels rumbled over the ground as they slowly left Nanhuai Town, heading toward Dongzhou City.
Upon reaching the official road outside town, the path smoothed out. Just as Mu Congyun prepared to accelerate, he spotted a figure standing at a fork ahead.
The slender, tall silhouette swayed in the wind like a reed.
Mu Congyun hastily reined in the horses, his voice betraying surprise at the youth blocking their path: “What are you doing here?”
Of course he would be here.
After painstakingly staging such an elaborate performance, how could he possibly exit midway?
He’d even calculated the timing and necessary route perfectly.
A mocking twist touched Shen Qi’s lips, but when he raised his face, his expression was one of distress.
Those clear black-and-white eyes fixed unwaveringly on Mu Congyun as his lips moved soundlessly several times before managing to produce halting words: “Where you go, I go.”
Long disuse left the youth’s voice slightly hoarse.
There were no tearful pleas, but that quiet tone carried the forlornness of an abandoned animal.
Shen Qi excelled at reading people.
For someone as straightforward as Mu Congyun, manipulation came effortlessly.
He was betting the other couldn’t refuse.