ATAVID CH35

The room was very quiet.

Only the occasional crackling of candle flames was exceptionally clear in the dead silence of the night.

“So the reason Chen Lin’s legs looked completely intact is that those legs aren’t his at all.”

Jiang Qunyu instantly understood the crucial point.

No wonder it had seemed so strange to him.

When Cui Jin had said she wanted one of his legs, yet Chen Lin had stood there with both legs perfectly fine, as if he had never been injured.

But what if those legs had been taken from someone else and then pieced together on him?

“Huh? What about Chen Lin’s legs?” Wen Xingyao looked completely baffled.

“Wen Xingyao.”

Afraid of frightening him, Jiang Qunyu didn’t explain further. He changed the subject, “Do you remember what those servant girls looked like? Can you draw them?”

Wen Xingyao paused for a moment, then shook his head: “This young master can only look; how could he draw?”

Jiang Qunyu found himself in a difficult spot.

“However,” Wen Xingyao blinked, “this young master can describe them. This young master has a good memory. You let this young master speak, can you draw?”

Jiang Qunyu only knew how to play games; asking him to draw a stick figure would be strenuous enough.

He looked at Wen Xingyao with a deadpan expression.

The two men stared at each other, falling into momentary silence.

Just as Jiang Qunyu was at a loss, the temperature around him suddenly dropped.

Desolate, vast, as if snow had suddenly fallen.

He turned his head instinctively, only to find Wei Xun standing behind him at some unknown point.

Leaning down, half-lowering his eyelids to look at him, with long lashes casting a faint shadow over his eyes.

His blue robes hung down, enveloping his entire person in a slightly cool shadow.

The distance between the two men was very close.

So close that Jiang Qunyu had an illusion—

He could smell the faint, clear fragrance on Wei Xun’s soul.

Like a pine forest after snowfall, or like a cold spring in deep mountains.

Wei Xun seemed not to care, speaking in a calm tone: “I’ll do it.”

“Oh.” Jiang Qunyu nodded.

He had thought Wei Xun was going to switch back.

But Wei Xun simply stood behind him, looking at Jiang Qunyu and saying: “Take the brush.”

Jiang Qunyu didn’t react for a moment.

His hand was still resting on the table, with a blank sheet of xuan paper spread before him.

Just as he instinctively reached out and gripped the writing brush, that chill descended as well.

Jiang Qunyu’s mind went blank for a moment.

He stared at his own hand, upon which lay another long, slender hand with clearly defined knuckles.

Although it was only Wei Xun’s spiritual body.

Although this body was even Wei Xun’s own.

But looking at this scene, Jiang Qunyu still couldn’t help feeling it was strange.

His mind was completely blank.

Wei Xun let out a low laugh.

That laugh was very soft, carrying a hint of teasing.

He applied slight pressure, pushing Jiang Qunyu’s hand forward as a reminder: “Have him speak.”

Jiang Qunyu was already somewhat dizzy; he even suspected he might be having some kind of nightmare.

How could something like this happen?

He heard his own voice, dry and stiff, as if coming from someone else’s mouth: “Go ahead.”

In Wen Xingyao’s eyes, Jiang Qunyu could do anything.

He didn’t suspect anything, taking a deep breath before beginning his description.

“The first one, that day in the corridor, standing in front of you, round face, round eyes, slightly flat nose, thin lips… there was also a birthmark on the back of her neck, shaped like a leaf.”

Wen Xingyao’s words seemed wrapped in a layer of hazy gauze, drifting past his ears without a single word settling into his mind.

All his attention was focused on that hand covering his own.

Slightly cool. Very steady.

Wei Xun’s brushwork was very fast.

He could feel that hand guiding his to move, the brush tip landing on the xuan paper with a faint rustling sound.

A few sparse strokes, and the outline of a face appeared vividly on the paper.

“Yes yes yes! That’s the one!” Wen Xingyao leaned in to look, his eyes brightening. “You draw so well!”

Sensing Wen Xingyao’s approach.

Wei Xun’s hand paused.

He slowly raised his eyes, his gaze ghostly and sinister.

Yet he curved his lips, revealing a malicious smile.

Then he lowered his head, leaning close to Jiang Qunyu’s ear.

Lowering his voice, he coaxed: “Jiang Qunyu, tell him to get lost.”

Jiang Qunyu was startled.

Wei Xun’s completely undisguised malice instead made him instantly clear-headed.

He lowered his gaze, looking at their overlapping hands.

He finally couldn’t help saying: “Don’t you find this disgusting? Switch back, draw it yourself.”

The curve of Wei Xun’s lips instantly froze.

He lowered his eyes, long lashes concealing the emotions in his gaze.

After a long while, he coldly pulled up his lips: “I do.”

He confirmed Jiang Qunyu’s statement, yet still didn’t switch back. Instead, he sighed and continued his hand movements.

He spoke with a smile, his tone carrying an indescribable meaning: “It’s good that you find it disgusting. Isn’t this quite nice?”

Jiang Qunyu: “…”

Actually, disgust wasn’t what he felt; the strangeness was only growing more intense.

“You really are killing a thousand enemies.”

“Hah.”

He fixed—

Disgust?

No.

Only he knew how fast his heart was beating.

Thump, thump, heavy and rapid, as if trying to break through some restraint.

He didn’t even know himself why he was doing this.

He simply did it because he wanted to.

At that moment, a voice in his heart said: “Look, even in this situation, he can quickly pull away.”

“Originally everything was so beautiful. He doesn’t reject your touch, and even freezes because of your approach, so adorable.”

“But just because you mentioned that idiot, everything shattered in an instant.”

“He quickly woke up, and even got angry at your malice toward that idiot.”

“What exactly is different between you and that idiot? You are both his friends…”

The voice paused, then became sharper: “No no no no, not different! Why should that idiot also be his friend?”

“That idiot should be killed.”

“As long as he’s killed, only you will remain by Jiang Qunyu’s side.”

A layer of blood-colored mist slowly veiled Wei Xun’s beautiful, narrow eyes.

The surrounding air began to grow heavy, black demonic energy spreading from his body, silently winding around his fingertips.

Jiang Qunyu was still forcing himself to adapt to this strange sensation.

Suddenly sensing the demonic energy around him growing thicker, even a wisp of black fog winding around his own fingertips.

His eyelid twitched, and he turned to look.

Sure enough, it was Wei Xun causing trouble.

“Wei Xun,” Jiang Qunyu gritted his teeth in anger, lowering his voice to growl, “can you save your madness for later?!”

Hearing this, Wei Xun paused.

The black fog around him instantly obediently shrank back into his consciousness.

He lowered his eyes, avoiding Jiang Qunyu’s gaze.

Only after the blood mist in his eyes disappeared did he say: “I’m sorry.”

“Hahaha.”

Jiang Qunyu laughed with schadenfreude, “I told you, if you wanted to disgust me you didn’t need to use this method. Tsk, instead you nearly disgusted yourself.”

Wei Xun said nothing more.

Jiang Qunyu couldn’t be bothered with him. After Wen Xingyao finished describing the other several people’s features.

One face after another appeared on the paper.

Jiang Qunyu released the writing brush.

Wei Xun also smoothly stood up.

All three of their gazes fell upon the several portraits on the table.

“Truly strange.” Jiang Qunyu placed two of the portraits side by side.

“The facial features on this face look fine at first glance, but upon closer inspection they are indeed very jarring. These eyes don’t belong on her face, but rather on another person’s face. This nose too—”

He pushed another portrait over: “Look, the nose on this face and the eyes on that face are the original matching set.”

Wen Xingyao leaned in to look, the more he looked the more horrified he felt.

He shrank his neck, trembling as he spoke: “So… these faces, they really are pieced together?”

Jiang Qunyu nodded.

“If they are human puppets, then piecing their broken parts back together would sound much more reasonable.”

He paused, his brows furrowing tighter, “But they can all speak, and breathe like normal people. This doesn’t make sense.”

Human puppets had no life.

But those servant girls were clearly alive.

At his words, Wen Xingyao recalled the many people he had seen in Cui Jin’s back courtyard that he had thought were puppets.

His face instantly turned deathly pale, his stomach churning.

He trembled as he spoke: “I also saw many people in that city lord’s back courtyard. At first I thought they were human puppets, and I even stared at them for a long time. Jiang Qunyu, you, do you think those are puppets, or are they also people pieced together?”

Jiang Qunyu made an immediate decision: “Where did you see them? Let’s go there now.”

Hearing this, Wen Xingyao hurriedly shook his head: “Never mind never mind, it’s midnight now. Those things won’t be going anywhere anyway, we can go tomorrow morning.”

“No.” Jiang Qunyu was already holding the Soul Devourer, walking toward the door.

The bright moonlight carried a chill. “If we wait until tomorrow, those things may no longer be there.”

A draft blew through the hall, and the silver bells tied to the Soul Devourer tinkled.

Jiang Qunyu added: “Besides, didn’t you say you wanted to cultivate immortality? The cultivation world has far more terrifying things than this. Consider it early experience.”

Hearing this, Wen Xingyao felt Jiang Qunyu made sense.

No longer hesitating, he raised his foot to follow Jiang Qunyu.

At midnight, the city lord’s manor was very quiet.

Along the way, they didn’t encounter anyone else.

The corridor was deep and secluded, the paper lanterns on both sides having long since extinguished.

Only the pale moonlight coldly spilled upon the bluestone floor, stretching their shadows long and thin.

These past few days, after hearing so much from Jiang Qunyu, plus his own not-inconsiderable talent, Wen Xingyao could already attempt to draw qi into his body.

Afraid he might forget, as they walked along the bluestone path, Jiang Qunyu had Wen Xingyao go through the breathing technique and movements once more.

Unfortunately, this was the mortal realm; spiritual energy was truly scarce.

Wen Xingyao had just condensed a bit of spiritual energy at his fingertips when that faint light flickered like a candle in the wind, swayed, and dissipated.

But regardless, he had learned it.

So Jiang Qunyu gave him a voice-transmission jade pendant.

The pendant was warm to the touch, glowing with a faint fluorescence in the moonlight.

“Take this.” Jiang Qunyu said, “Use this to find me if you need anything in the future. Even if I’m only a spiritual body, I can still speak with you.”

Wen Xingyao accepted the pendant, carefully tucking it into his chest.

“Jiang Qunyu, can you teach me something else?” he asked eagerly, “Like something where if I encounter a ghost, I can use fire to burn its behind or something.”

Jiang Qunyu thought about it; he did know this.

He was just about to teach him.

Wei Xun, who had been walking behind the two of them, suddenly spoke listlessly: “You’re a demon, are you sure there’s no problem with you teaching him?”

Wei Xun pulled up a smile, moonlight falling upon his face, making his pale cheeks even more pronounced.

His tone carried a trace of barely perceptible mockery, “Or are you planning to teach out a demon.”

Jiang Qunyu: “…”

He had to admit, Wei Xun was right.

Demonic cultivation and orthodox immortal cultivation followed different paths.

What he was teaching Wen Xingyao now might end up harming him in the future.

He looked at Wen Xingyao, deciding it was better not to lead him astray.

“Mm,” Jiang Qunyu said half-truthfully, “You’re still at the entry-level stage, you haven’t even learned to walk yet. Wait until you reach the Qi Refinement realm, then we’ll learn more.”

Wen Xingyao had to set aside his thoughts.

Jiang Qunyu suddenly remembered something, and used his divine sense to ask Wei Xun: “The mortal realm lacks spiritual energy, so how can the people of East Mirror Lake City cultivate?”

Not to mention those “human puppets”—even in the cultivation world’s Thousand Mechanisms Sect, operating human puppets required top-grade spirit stones.

How did Cui Jin accomplish it?

Those pieced-together things, how did he make them come back to life?

The group happened to arrive at the back courtyard.

Autumn in the mortal realm.

Night wind and thin mist permeated the air, carrying a chill, somewhat cold.

Wei Xun stood under the eaves, his lonely figure clear as bamboo.

He raised his head, those cold eyes looking toward Cui Jin standing not far away, through the half-open courtyard gate.

Curving his lips, his voice was icy and dead: “Who knows, perhaps it’s not spiritual energy at all.”

Jiang Qunyu also saw Cui Jin.

He seemed to have long anticipated they would come, still holding a green paper lantern in his hand.

The candle flame inside the lantern burned faintly.

He carried a smile on his lips, looking at them from afar.