ATAVID CH40

Wen Xingyao thought Wei Xun had completely lost his mind, so he cried even harder, tears smeared across his face, inwardly thinking Jiang Qunyu was really unlucky.

He’d died, and instead of mourning, Wei Xun looked almost smug.

Wen Xingyao had suspected before that Wei Xun had used some forbidden ritual to forcibly bind Jiang Qunyu’s soul to his side, but now he realized he’d overthought it.

“Senior brother Wei, can Jiang Qunyu… can we see him again?” Wen Xingyao couldn’t let it go.

A voice dropped, and the illusions around them shattered piece by piece, fading away.

The light twisted again.

The walls stopped swaying. The desk settled back exactly where it had been. The candle flickered, its warm glow swaying as if nothing had happened. The doors, furniture, paper and ink on the desk—all instantly snapped back to how they’d been moments earlier, as if that life‑threatening battle and fall had been nothing but a brief, vivid dream.

Wen Xingyao sat dazed on the floor, staring at the familiar room in front of him.

They were back.

Wei Xun didn’t come back with him.

His eyebrows had regained their cold edge; he was once more distant and indifferent, not even glancing at the others, and then he turned and walked away.

His white robes gleamed like snow, his back lonely and aloof, as if a perpetual winter had fallen around him.

*

*

The corridor was silent. Cold moonlight slanted down, silver‑tinged frost spreading across the ground, stretching Wei Xun’s shadow long and long.

The Soul‑Devouring Sword quieted again.

His hand, hanging lifelessly at his side, was still faintly trembling.

The power of the Transcendent Void Realm surged through his meridians, every inch of his body rejoicing at the breakthrough—but that joy seemed to hit an invisible wall and never actually reached his heart.

Night wind swept by, stirring the silver bell on his sword, its clear, cold chime ringing softly.

His steps were slow, until he stopped in front of a tightly shut door.

He hesitated, fingers resting on the wood, then pushed it open.

The hinges creaked. Warmth flowed from the room.

Cui Mingjin sat by the desk, lifting his eyes when he saw him, lips curving into a gentle, faintly amused smile. “You’re back.”

Before the sentence finished, Wei Xun raised his sword. A fierce arc of swordlight shot toward Cui Mingjin.

Cui Mingjin didn’t dodge. He took the blow full force, blood welling up in his throat, yet he still smiled, unaffected, raising his sleeve to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth. “Little Senior Wei, are you regretting it?”

The next instant, Wei Xun was right in front of him.

A hand with long, sharp fingers tightened around his throat, the pressure so great it almost crushed his neck bones. The choking pain turned Cui Mingjin’s face redder, veins bulging at his temples.

Yet he still laughed, his shoulders shaking, his gaze meeting Wei Xun’s dark eyes. “Ha, Little Senior Wei, how about another deal?”

Wei Xun’s demonic aura raged, his chest filled with hatred so burning he wanted to flay the man in front of him alive.

But then he seemed to recall something. His pitch‑black pupils slowly turned, and in the end, he loosened his grip.

Cui Mingjin steadied himself against the edge of the table, breathing hard for a while, before murmuring, “Now will you agree to my terms?”

Wei Xun didn’t respond to his words, just asked tonelessly, “You did this on purpose.”

“What do you mean?” Cui Mingjin played naive, cleared his throat, and sighed, as if he were the one being wronged. “Every time you see me, Little Senior Wei, you want to kill me.”

Wei Xun said quietly, “Those things were arranged in the courtyard by you. You used some trick to lure Wen Xingyao over, then let him bring us the news through his mouth.”

“Just a little something in his cup, that’s all,” Cui Mingjin admitted, then calmly poured a cup of tea for Wei Xun and lifted his eyes, voice light but knowing. “After all, you and that young man are not so easy to fool. If I’d dragged the two of you directly into this, would we even have the chance to talk like this tonight?”

Wen Xingyao was different; after all, they knew each other, so their guard was naturally lower.

Cui Mingjin raised his own cup and took a sip.

Wei Xun curled his lips coldly. “Later, you deliberately dragged Jiang Qunyu into the trap you’d laid, putting him in danger.”

He paused, his voice dark enough to drip with malice. “Or, from the very beginning, you were always aiming at me. You were sure that because of him, I’d come find you.”

“If you’d agreed to me at the start, nothing after that would’ve happened,” Cui Mingjin said, still smiling. “You and I are the same kind of person, Little Senior Wei. I once tried every possible way to free my wife from her suffering. I know exactly how tempting that bug is to people like us.”

“Hmph,” Wei Xun sneered softly. “You’ve never seemed worried that the things you made might not even be able to see Jiang Qunyu.”

This time, Cui Mingjin really did look puzzled. “I don’t know why the bitter‑grudge‑born creature you’ve refined has a white soul, or how it can cling to you.”

“But bitter‑grudge‑born beings are from beyond the Five Realms. They can see one another by nature. Over all these years, because I’m still mortal, the bitter‑grudge‑born I’ve refined can only separate soul from body at midnight.”

Bitter‑grudge‑born.

That was it—but “beyond the Five Realms” made Wei Xun’s thoughts whirl.

Beyond the Five Realms, huh?

Was it possible Jiang Qunyu—

But Wei Xun remained silent.

So that was why he’d been so confident they were of the same kind.

Wei Xun didn’t respond to Cui Mingjin’s words. He lowered his head, hiding the shadow creeping into his eyes.

His voice, when he spoke, was unnaturally calm. “What exactly is the condition of your ‘deal,’ City Lord?”

The room was very quiet, only the occasional crackle of the candle breaking the silence.

Cui Mingjin stayed in the same pose for a long while, simply sitting there, before finally handing a small wooden box to Wei Xun. “Little Senior Wei, this is the Bitter Ferry Bug.”

Wei Xun took the box.

His fingers brushed the lid, then slowly lifted it.

Inside—

Two tiny bugs lay motionless, so small they were almost invisible, as if long dead.

Wei Xun’s lips quirked, the faint smile not reaching his eyes. He lifted his gaze. “How can I be sure this is really the Bitter Ferry Bug you speak of?”

“Since you’re a cultivator, you naturally have methods of verifying what I say,” Cui Mingjin replied calmly, meeting his gaze. “Maybe you’ve already laid some restriction on me since the moment you walked in.”

Wei Xun’s expression didn’t change. He slipped the box into his spatial pouch.

Then, he suddenly smirked.

Fingers condensing frost, a thousand ice blades fell from the sky.

Cui Mingjin’s face paled, his expression shifting strangely as he looked at Wei Xun. “Little Senior Wei, this really isn’t gentlemanly.”

“When did I ever claim to be a gentleman?” Wei Xun said, making no effort to hide his killing intent.

The air turned biting cold. Cui Mingjin barely dodged, but his shoulder still took a wound. Blood spread across his robes. He gritted his teeth, hand slamming down on a hidden spot on the table.

Some hidden mechanism triggered. The wall behind him split open, revealing a dark passage.

Clutching the bleeding wound, he stumbled back into the shadows. Before disappearing, he glanced over his shoulder at Wei Xun, his voice oddly amused. “Little Senior Wei, I’ll be waiting.”

He’d achieved his goal, no matter what.

But he couldn’t die yet. He still had to see his wife through her final journey.

Even as the words left his mouth, Cui Mingjin vanished into the secret passageway, the hidden door slamming shut behind him.

Wei Xun stood there alone, his brows icy, his entire being radiating a chilling, oppressive killing intent.

At midnight, the City Lord’s mansion suddenly burst into eerie fire.

The flames flickered in a mix of blue and red, racing along the eaves, swallowing half the estate in moments. The blaze roared into the sky, staining the night blood‑red.

*

*

Jiang Qunyu woke up on the third day.

Once again, he was a little ball of black mist.

Jiang Qunyu: “….”

Ah, well. Black mist was black mist; at least for the time being, he didn’t have to cling to Wei Xun’s body anymore.

He’d barely started to stretch his “limbs” when the entire black mist got grabbed by a long, pale hand.

“Jiang Qunyu.”

A sinister voice rang out, colored with unreadable emotion.

Jiang Qunyu’s heart lurched. He wriggled, looked back, and met Wei Xun’s face.

How unlucky—of all the faces he could have seen first, it had to be Wei Xun’s.

“Call me ‘Dad,’ then,” Jiang Qunyu snapped, furious.

Wei Xun just gave a faint, chilling smile.

That smile was light, yet it sent a shiver down Jiang Qunyu’s spine. Before he could react, Wei Xun had already stood up, carrying him behind a screen.

The surroundings were unfamiliar—neither the City Lord’s mansion nor the West Courtyard room. The furnishings were simple, but cold and austere, like some temporary shelter.

Jiang Qunyu frowned. “Where the hell is this?”

“Hmm,” Wei Xun explained with irritating patience, “a safer place.”

“Huh?” Jiang Qunyu blinked.

He didn’t have time to grasp that before Wei Xun had already set him down in a porcelain bowl.

The bowl was thick with blood.

Jiang Qunyu’s eyes twitched. How much blood had Wei Xun poured into this thing?

Still, the blood wasn’t a bad thing for him right now. Jiang Qunyu didn’t refuse. He even spread himself out into a thin, flat black “pancake” and drank it all up.

The black mist ball visibly grew rounder.

He let out a satisfied “burp,” then looked up at Wei Xun.

Wei Xun sat with his head slightly lowered, the wound on his palm still not healed, his gaze strangely intent. There was a faint dark patch under his eyes—had he not slept at all these last few days?

Whether it was his imagination or not, Jiang Qunyu felt Wei Xun seemed even crazier than before.

“Did you throw anything else into the bowl?” Jiang Qunyu swallowed his unease and suspiciously asked.

Wei Xun, seeing that he’d finished, tossed a dust‑cleansing spell at him until the black mist looked clean again, then lazily shook his head. “No.”

Jiang Qunyu went “oh,” thinking of asking about what was happening outside.

But Wei Xun just took him to the bedside, set him on the pillow, then lay down and closed his eyes.

“I’m going to sleep,” he said.

Jiang Qunyu: “….”

Looking at the slight dark bruise under Wei Xun’s eyes, all the questions Jiang Qunyu had been about to ask disappeared back down his throat.

He’d almost thought of biting Wei Xun to blow off steam, but then remembered that bowl of blood and decided against it.

Fine, he’d ask when this guy woke up.

Sigh. He was really such a kind, good demon.

After a long while—

Jiang Qunyu was starting to feel a bit drowsy himself.

Wei Xun suddenly spoke. “Jiang Qunyu.”

Jiang Qunyu, half‑asleep, mumbled, “Mm?”

Wei Xun’s voice sounded distant. “Do you want to kill me?”

Jiang Qunyu assumed he was just ranting in his sleep, rolled over, curled himself into an even rounder ball, and went back to sleep. “You’re sick.”

Wei Xun didn’t say anything more.

Maybe it was because of the blood he’d just drunk, but Jiang Qunyu slept very deeply.

Every now and then, it felt as if Wei Xun got up.

But he always lay down again, over and over, he didn’t know how many times.