TRYMBPIETM 132: When I went in the Past (14)

Qing Zhi, who had been dragged along the way, kept his eyes tightly shut, showing no reaction to Shen Wenxu’s words.

At this moment, he no longer looked like a living person. If not for the faint rise and fall of his chest, at a glance, he would have seemed like nothing more than a pile of rotten flesh.

Shen Wenxu tilted his head and glanced at him but didn’t mind his silence. He continued dragging him along, changing direction toward the location of the Mountain God Temple.

Qing Zhi’s hand brushed against sharp stones, and his fingertips moved ever so slightly.

A strange excitement and ferocity flickered in Shen Wenxu’s gaze, and his steps became lighter.

If his cousin, Shen Wenxing, were here and saw him like this, he would undoubtedly be startled.

Not because of a drastic change in his personality, but because, at this moment, he was actually closer to his state at eleven or twelve years old.

Shen Wenxu was the most gifted junior of his generation in the Shen family.

Everyone of his generation knew there was such a genius in the family, and they also knew that he had undergone the strictest and most meticulous training from a young age.

They had all witnessed how the elders nurtured Shen Wenxu. Alongside their affection for him, the grueling trials he endured were so terrifying that every peer was left trembling in fear.

So, none of them felt jealous of Shen Wenxu, nor did they believe they could have done better than him.

They were self-aware.

Forcing spirits and deities to descend upon oneself while maintaining sensory communion with the surrounding environment was a form of utter destruction—both physically and mentally.

Most young members of the Shen family could barely endure doing this once a year, yet Shen Wenxu had been undergoing this training several times a month since he was six years old.

The fact that he could persist was already enough to earn the admiration of his peers.

In the eyes of many within the Shen family’s younger generation, Shen Wenxu was destined to lead the family into the future.

As they studied, many instinctively chose paths that would allow them to assist Shen Wenxu.

But what no one expected—what even the Shen family elders didn’t foresee—was that the excessive harshness and frequency of Shen Wenxu’s training would ultimately cause irreparable harm.

His sensory communion became increasingly difficult to shut off, his perception sharpened to an alarming degree.

He began unconsciously perceiving strange entities in his sleep, unintentionally resonating with them, and unwittingly being influenced and distorted by them.

His personality gradually grew more and more unusual, and the entire Shen family was at a loss.

The elders, who had been determined to see the Shen family rise further, now regretted their actions.

They sought medical help for Shen Wenxu, exhausting every possible method and pleading with every renowned family, yet they found no cure.

The Shen family was consumed by fear.

If they let Shen Wenxu continue down this path, it was only a matter of time before his personality collapsed, or worse, his soul shattered.

Not everyone possessed Chi Qingzhou’s strength and resilience. If Shen Wenxu’s soul fractured, the only thing awaiting him was death.

And even death would not bring peace.

At the moment of his passing, his soul would undoubtedly undergo a monstrous transformation. Unless it was completely annihilated, he would become some kind of aberration.

Just as the Shen family was at their wits’ end, Shen Wenxu disappeared.

The family was thrown into panic, mobilizing all available forces to search for him. But for three whole days, not even a trace of him was found.

They had resigned themselves to the fact that if they ever saw him again, they would have no choice but to personally put him down.

Yet on the fourth day, Shen Wenxu returned, safe and sound.

No one knew where he had gone. Even he didn’t know—because he had lost a portion of his memories.

His personality had become unremarkable. A little timid, a little indecisive, always avoiding conflict with others, making him seem like an easy target.

But he was also sufficiently upright, sufficiently positive and sunny. The lingering influence of those strange entities had weakened to the point of near invisibility.

The Shen family was overjoyed.

They invited numerous experts to examine him, confirming that he had recovered, nearly throwing a grand banquet in celebration.

They apologized to Shen Wenxu, no longer forcing him to learn the Shen family’s unique communion, and even revised their approach to educating the younger generation.

To prevent Shen Wenxu from being triggered while at home, they even went so far as to find a cultivator who could help stabilize his condition—Qing Zhi—and sent him to become Qing Zhi’s apprentice.

From then on, Shen Wenxu left the Shen family and took up residence at the Xuanxu Sect.

When the younger members of the Shen family learned that his teacher was Qing Zhi, they admired him even more.

Not for any profound reason, but simply because Qing Zhi had a good reputation at the time and seemed quite powerful.

They believed that for Qing Zhi to accept Shen Wenxu as a disciple, his talent must have been truly extraordinary.

But what they never expected—what even Shen Wenxu never knew—was that Qing Zhi had ulterior motives for taking him as a disciple.

For Qing Zhi, the orders from the ghost deity were secondary. The real reason he executed this mission so diligently was, indeed, Shen Wenxu’s exceptional talent.

Of course, Qing Zhi had no interest in nurturing an outstanding apprentice.

The real reason he was willing to teach Shen Wenxu seriously was that Shen Wenxu was the vessel Qing Zhi had chosen for himself.

A painfully cliché reason—Qing Zhi didn’t want to die.

He and Qu Feng were long-time acquaintances, and after witnessing everything Qu Feng had done to survive, he often secretly mocked him for being foolish.

He knew very well that Qu Feng’s path was a dead end. To extend one’s lifespan, a more reliable method was needed.

History had proven countless times that constantly switching bodies was not a viable long-term solution.

Qu Feng had tried that method before, but as time passed, the rate at which his vessels deteriorated only accelerated. In the end, even swapping bodies daily wasn’t fast enough.

Qing Zhi’s selection of a vessel was, in essence, a means of buying time—to hold out until he could implement a proper solution.

As long as the ghost deity he worshiped gained greater power, achieved a formally recognized divine status, and acquired the appropriate authority, Qing Zhi could leverage that connection to gain longevity and status.

To survive until that day, he had to ensure that Shen Wenxu remained alive and in good health.

If he transferred bodies too soon, he might not last long enough.

Finding another vessel of equal talent would be far too troublesome.

Qing Zhi believed he had secured an invincible position.

But what he never anticipated was that the ghost deity he served had never regarded him as an important follower.

The myriad Wan Ying temples he managed had long since bound their karma to him.

The day after Chi Qingzhou discovered the temple in Hengming City and reported it, Qing Zhi was horrified to find his body rapidly deteriorating.

He immediately retrieved the medicinal concoctions he had prepared beforehand, but after taking them, they only briefly stalled the decline for a few hours before an even more violent backlash ensued.

Qing Zhi panicked.

He rushed into his meditation chamber and desperately prayed to the ghost deity.

But this time, the deity that had always responded to him ignored him completely.

No matter how he pleaded or cursed, the divine statue simply sat upon the offering table, its expression gentle, as lifeless as a lump of clay.

Qing Zhi finally went mad.

He overturned the altar and shattered the statue.

It was in that moment that he understood—he was never a devoted follower, merely a disposable pawn.

The ghost deity had made him oversee the Wan Ying temples not out of trust or value, but simply to assign a scapegoat for all the accumulated karma of those countless ghosts.

Fate had finally come full circle.

But Qing Zhi refused to die.

Originally, he had planned to wait another ten years before taking over Shen Wenxu’s body.

But now, he could no longer afford to wait.

He came up with a random excuse to summon Shen Wenxu, not the least bit worried that he might escape.

And sure enough, Shen Wenxu came.

At that time, he still didn’t know that Qing Zhi had already faced retribution, nor did he want to reveal that he had regained some of his memories.

The moment he stepped into the meditation room, Qing Zhi struck.

The sensation of his soul being torn apart jolted him, forcibly breaking open the synesthesia that had been sealed away. Childhood memories surged forth.

The twisted distortions that had never disappeared revived once more, returning to Shen Wenxu and reverting him to his childhood state.

But now, he was far stronger than when he was a child.

Though he was somewhat affected and his temperament became a bit odd, those distortions could no longer harm him.

His power had more than doubled due to the revival of his synesthesia. Qing Zhi, who once firmly suppressed him, could now only struggle to survive.

Dragging Qing Zhi up the slope, Shen Wenxu grinned and said, “Master, do you know? I actually didn’t want to regain my memories so soon.”

Qing Zhi didn’t react.

He continued on his own, “Oh, don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I think this state is bad, and it’s not like I’ll be hurt because of it. I just didn’t want to get angry, that’s all.”

The slope was uneven, with more stones and branches. They occasionally scraped against Qing Zhi’s skin, leaving fresh cuts and streaks of blood.

Shen Wenxu said, “Do you know why I’m angry? Because Zhouzhou doesn’t remember me either. You see, I met him when I was just a teenager. Back then, I wasn’t in a good state, and it was Zhouzhou who helped seal my memories.”

He paused in his steps, gesturing excitedly.

“Zhouzhou was especially adorable when he was little, you know? He was younger than me, but he’d put on a serious face and tell me solemnly that kids shouldn’t act tough.”

“He was so kind. Even though we didn’t know each other, he was still willing to save me. I’ve never met anyone kinder than Zhouzhou!”

And Zhouzhou was also brave and persistent, willing to fight and gamble everything in the face of danger.

Qing Zhi’s eyelids twitched—whether from pain or from Shen Wenxu’s shocking words, it was unclear.

“He was only this tall.” Shen Wenxu gestured a height, his smile softening considerably. “He was so well-behaved, so cute, so outstanding. There’s no one in this world better than Zhouzhou. But it’s a shame—he once sacrificed himself, his soul was wounded, and later, he forgot about me.”

At this, he fell silent for two seconds before letting out a displeased huff. “That old bastard Xing Su—Zhouzhou actually fell for him. What a steal for him! He better not wrong Zhouzhou, or I’ll gather all of Zhouzhou’s other friends and make him pay!”

Shen Wenxu’s smile faded. He turned his head and stared at Qing Zhi for a moment before suddenly kicking him in the chest.

“Master, you should understand—I was Zhouzhou’s first friend. No matter what, the first is always special. But because of your sins, Zhouzhou forgot me.”

His eyes darkened with resentment.

“So frustrating. Even someone like Cheng Shang got to be Zhouzhou’s friend, yet I was forgotten.”

“This is all your fault.”

Qing Zhi, who had remained still all this time, trembled at his fingertips, an inexplicable ferocity surfacing in his expression.

Shen Wenxu’s face also twisted into something terrifying.

“You don’t agree? Are you trying to say this is Zhouzhou’s fault? Let me tell you, he could never be wrong. This is all your doing!”

He stomped down hard on Qing Zhi’s chest. Qing Zhi couldn’t breathe and reflexively struggled, but his tightly shut eyes still let two lines of tears slip out.

Shen Wenxu didn’t bother interpreting his reaction. He sneered, crouching down slowly.

“I knew it—you haven’t completely lost consciousness. That’s good. It makes things easier for me.”

“Master, do you know what I’m about to do?”

Qing Zhi didn’t move.

Shen Wenxu scoffed, stood up, and dragged him toward the mountain god temple.

He threw the now-immobilized Qing Zhi into a corner and took out the cinnabar and other materials he had prepared beforehand, setting up a formation on the temple’s floor.

A strange fragrance mingled with the thick scent of blood, gradually spreading through the air.

Feigning death, Qing Zhi found the scent oddly familiar but couldn’t immediately recall why.

A deep sense of unease gripped him. After only a brief hesitation, he began struggling frantically.

He didn’t know what it was, but he was certain—if this continued, he would die!

Shen Wenxu acted as though he hadn’t seen his excessive reaction and continued his work.

It was only natural that Qing Zhi found the scent familiar.

Wasn’t this the scent of Qing Zhi himself?

After all these years, Shen Wenxu had already discerned its ingredients and purpose. The only one still clueless about its significance was Qing Zhi.

Curving his lips in pleasure, he was just about to finish the final stroke of the formation when a red silhouette suddenly lunged at him, shoving him aside.

“Are you insane?! Stop this right now!”

A terrifying force sent Shen Wenxu tumbling across the floor. He rolled once before barely coming to a stop, immediately scrambling up without a sound to charge back.

The young man in red robes saw him attempting to complete the final stroke and quickly tackled him.

“Stop it! You lunatic, you madman!”

“You’re going to sacrifice this thing? It’ll only corrupt the dragon vein! Do you think you can bear the karma of contaminating a dragon vein?!”

Shen Wenxu was slammed to the ground, vaguely hearing a sharp crack.

He knew that his rib was probably fractured, but he didn’t care about the pain in the slightest.

Lifting his head, he sneered, “And what does that have to do with me? Wasn’t Qing Zhi already your chosen sacrifice? You didn’t think there was anything wrong with him back then, but now you suddenly think he can’t be sacrificed?”

The red-robed young man’s expression darkened as he barked, “What nonsense are you spouting? What does he have to do with me? I am the dragon vein!”

Shen Wenxu let out a laugh, spitting out a mouthful of bloody foam before speaking with scorn, “Oh? So you’re saying the mark on him wasn’t placed by you?”