Xi Ping hid inside Lin Chi’s sleeve. As he listened to the world-shaking battle of Xuanyin Mountain’s shed skin elders, trembling along with the thirty-six peaks, he could also clearly feel the fetters that restrained him slackening.  

He went numb all over. 

In fact, Xi Ping could think of a way to use Lin Chi to let Xuanyin Mountain know that the demon seal was under attack, but that would trap san-ge; but if he looked on without lifting a finger, leaving aside for the moment what would happen to san-ge afterwards, how would Xi Ping have the face to speak to his shifu? 

Heavens above, he was only a rotten tree spirit who couldn’t fend for himself. Why did he have to be caught in such a dilemma? 

Just because he hadn’t thought things through and had told that Idiot Xu to take the Riverward to give to his wastrel master! 

Whether Zhao Yin went mad or became senile, Xi Ping would be delighted to see it, but tearing open the demon seal was no good…that was where his shifu had nearly given up his life! 

Was there no one to mind him? 

Xi Ping had followed Zhou Ying around like his shadow since he was little, had grown up smelling the medicinal odor on him thickening year by year. Even when scolding him, he couldn’t bear to say anything harsh, so he had to readjust his aim and pour a flood of invective onto Emperor Taiming, whom he hadn’t known very well—poor childrearing was the fault of the father; he had been ruthless and unfeeling himself, and he’d fathered a son without bothering to teach him properly, instead tossing him into the Impassable Sea to let the heart demon instruct him. 

What a fucking dog of a father! Today he’s blowing up the demon seal, and just you wait, tomorrow he’ll send your ancestral tomb up to the sky like a firecracker, and it’ll be just what you deserve! 

Zhou Ying said, “…Who did you say is a wastrel? Who’s a dog?” 

All kinds of thoughts were frantically going through Xi Ping’s mind. For a moment, he didn’t realize who had answered him. He blurted out, “Who else could it be but Zhou Ying?” 

Zhou Ying sucked in a breath. He raised a hand and gently touched the trunk of the reincarnation wood tree, then realized with a start that his hand was covered in blood and timidly drew it back. 

His features seemed not to know how to arrange themselves, contorting in anger and grief both, at a loss. 

Too pathetic, Zhou Ying…too pathetic. 

So, as if venting his anger, he looked up and kicked Xi Ping’s innocent body. “How impudent!” 

A corner of the demon seal had been pried up. The sounds and images there came intermittently to Xi Ping. He just happened to see that kick. Half-bitterly, he gave a grim laugh. “Ha, guess what? It doesn’t hurt at all.” 

Zhou Ying: “…” 

Xi Ping suddenly realized something: Wait, aren’t I just quietly lying there? Even if my posture is indecent, that isn’t my fault. Why would he call me “impudent”?

Can he…hear me? 

In the chaos of Xuanyin Mountain, Xi Ping’s consciousness turned into a stutterer. “San…san-ge?” 

Zhou Ying forced his breathing to become extremely slow, as if there weren’t enough air at the bottom of the Impassable Sea, and he needed to save each mouthful. “Don’t you mean ‘Zhou Ying’?” 

He really can hear! 

For a moment, the two of them simultaneously became mute. 

At the end of the twenty-eighth year of Taiming, Xi Ping had been on his way to the southern mines in the Land of Turmoil on his shifu’s orders. Before leaving, he had stopped over in Jinping and gone to visit Prince Zhuang Manor, impatient to display the magic powers he had just learned. 

Back then, the only kind of talisman he had learned was a contamination preventing one. Flying a sword, he was even slower than Master Lin’s blue luan. And the Tai Sui Qin was still mixed in with the bones of his fingers; he only ever played vulgar tunes about people bringing dishonor on their family names… Back then, he’d thought that the most dangerous circumstance on earth was being bullied by a miserable wretch named Liang Chen. 

At the start of the twenty-ninth year of Taiming, Xi Ping had by a series of coincidences fallen into the Resurrection Vortex, had seized the offering from the altar out of the mouths of the demon host. He had broken the Zhou clan’s eight-century-long conspiracy in the Impassable Sea, and then, as though it was karma, when all the dust had settled, he had been buried there himself. Fancying himself clever, he had even written home to report his safety…but it turned out that he hadn’t fooled anyone. 

Now, over five years had passed. Seeing Zhou Ying again, Xi Ping at first forgot how to speak to him. 

He was a local thug from Wild Fox Country, a cunning and irascible evil cultivator, the mystifying Tai Sui… The masks he usually switched between with the ease of practice fell out all at once, and he was flustered, feeling that none of them was appropriate to take out to show his ge. He nearly blurted out the mixed language he had picked up in Tao County. 

Just then, there was a rumble, and Zhao Yin was knocked down from the principal peak’s cliff by Zhang Jue and Lin Zongyi working in concert. The usually invisible Xuanyin great array emerged from underground. The principal peak’s main hall vibrated, establishing a resonance with the Bell of Tribulation. 

Xi Ping gave a start. He came back to himself and forced himself to find the proper accent for Jinping official language. He dully tried to make up for himself: “Just…j-just now, what was that? I-I-I was just about to say hello, I hadn’t said anything yet.” 

Zhou Ying seemed exhausted. He sat crosslegged under the reincarnation wood tree, leaning back against the bloodstained wood, quietly gazing at Xi Ping’s empty body in front of him. “No need to restrict yourself, speak your mind. Anyway, you won’t feel a beating… ‘It doesn’t hurt at all’, right?” 

Xi Ping: “…” 

A loose tongue is its own punishment; the proverb doesn’t lie. 

“Back then, you used an established foundation pill to shatter your spirit in this reincarnation wood forest and obtained the inheritance of the demonic god. That’s why they wanted to kill you, right?” Zhou Ying paused. “Where have you been?” 

Xi Ping had a natural gift of gab, but now he didn’t know where to start. He was speechless for a moment. “I…I was in Western Chu… Well, it’s a long story…” 

Zhou Ying interrupted him: “Have you been mistreated?” 

Xi Ping was stunned by his question. 

He hadn’t thought of this question, and no one had asked him this question before. 

A-Xiang, Xu Rucheng, Lin Chi, Qiu Sha… They had all either listened to his instructions or made allowances for him in their plans. Some people believed in him, some people took precautions again him. He was the “Tai Sui” hidden behind the weird divine image, not to be spoken or written of, with countless ties to the ancient demonic god, seen as a fellow creature by the late-autumn red—what relationship could he have to being “mistreated”? 

That was a word to describe a child. 

Xi Ping considered for a while, then responded, “No, actually.” 

This was the truth. In the last five years, he hadn’t known that he was the Marquis Manor’s Viscount, and he hadn’t thought it was mistreatment to eat just enough scraps to get by every day along with the toilers of Yuzhou, hadn’t thought there was anything unusual about the internal injuries and grave diseases everywhere—everyone had them. 

Attached to the exiled refugees, to the spiritual image dolls in the prison, to the slaves bought and sold on the black market…he had lived and died with them again and again, fully experiencing abuse and humiliation, yet he hadn’t known that this had been forced on him so he could learn by comparison; these had been the fates of other people. 

He was only a person roaming through some rotten wood, accompanying them as they lived and died. 

Since everyone was accustomed to this, he naturally also grew accustomed to it. 

It’s clear to see that there are no natural princes and nobles on earth; “delicacy” is nothing but self-pity. 

“Well,” Xi Ping said carelessly, “I’m just a little restricted in Great Wan. In Western Chu, it’s pretty good. Isn’t it all down to me that Bai Ling-da-ge’s subordinate Idiot Xu successfully seized power in Wild Fox Country? Heh-heh, I’m the Snake King’s backer, Tai…” 

Before he could finish his bragging, he was interrupted by a long cry in the valley, almost a dragon’s roar. 

Next, a number of figures landed beside Lin Chi. The ascended spirit peak masters near the principal peak had all been alerted by the sound of the elders fighting. 

Rosy Cloud Peak’s Peak Master Wen Fei swished his fan open. Hurried cursive script appeared on it: What’s going on?

Lin Chi shook his head. “The Dignitary of Rites Elder suddenly left seclusion and went down into the Sea of Stars with a strange expression. Then they suddenly started fighting. I don’t know…” 

“Zhang Jue! Lin Zongyi!” Beneath the principal peak, Zhao Yin’s voice came like a shout. “I’ve always known that the two of you were lusting after the principal peak!” 

Zhang Jue said, “Utter nonsense! Are you confused…? Dignitary of Rule, request the Vitex Branch from Yuntian Palace!” 

The “Vitex Branch” was Xuanyin Mountain’s Dignitary of Rule High Elder’s foremost divine tool. Tradition had it that this was the vitex branch that the Southern Sage, on seeing living things suffering during the Great War of Gods and Demons and becoming aware of his own sinfulness, had worn on his back in penitence. When the Southern Sage had departed the mortal world, he had left the Vitex Branch in the Yuntian Palace discipline hall. The tail end of a lash from this thing could scare an established foundation or below out of their wits. At the least, it could kill an ascended spirit; at the most, it would bind a shed skin. 

Lin Zongyi accordingly raised a hand. A burst of purple lightning came flashing through the air. Wen Fei and Lin Chi, respectively a medicine maker and a tool maker, within their grade both belonged to the “too weak to truss a chicken” category of noncombatants. Both quickly dodged. The realistic feathers on the blue luan even stood on end! 

Lin Chi waved his sleeve to clear away the hissing sparks all around. He formed a hand seal, and an immortal tool like a thin cloud floated out of his sleeve to cover Moon Plated Peak, protecting its many inner sect disciples whose names he didn’t even know. Only then did the other peak masters come back to themselves and organize a defense for their peaks one after another.

The nine peak masters under the influence of the Zhao family arrived one after another. As soon as they beheld this scene, they read too much into it—after all, it was less than thirty years since Xuanyin’s last internal strife. The leading peak master surnamed Zhao couldn’t hold back. He asked, “Dignitary of Fate, Dignitary of Rule, could you please tell us what you are doing?” 

He didn’t get a response, only saw the Vitex Branch descend. There was a thunderclap in the valley like the sound of tearing silk, then the lightning rolled up a mass of turbid energy and flew out. 

The Zhao peak masters exchanged looks in mingled shock and anger. Though the Xuanyin Mountains were managed by the thirty-six peak masters, anyone without the backing of a shed skin elder—the Zhou family, for example—would be hindered at every turn; they were inferior to others. If the Dignitary of Rites Elder fell, never mind the Zhao family having nine peak masters—even if all thirty-six peaks had been under their rule, they would afterwards still be reduced to mere stewards; what future prospects could they have? 

The leading Zhao peak master clenched his teeth and led the others in a charge as if seeking death. 

Nine great ascended spirits began to pull and tear the Vitex Branch simultaneously. The Dignitary of Rule’s mouth seal floated down, and he shouted angrily, “Move aside!” 

The lightning of the Vitex Branch rose angrily, and the nine of them were sent flying like fallen leaves swept by an autumn wind. But with this pause, a human form took shape within the turbid energy bound by the Vitex Branch. In an instant, it swelled to several times its previous size. It struggled free of the Vitex Branch and went east! 

High among the clouds, when sudden thunder struck, what came tumbling out was always selfishness. 

Wen Fei smacked his fan. A beam of spiritual energy entered snow-capped Flying Jade Mountain, which was far from the principal peak, and knocked on the mountain seal—Sword god, wake up! There’s a fire burning in your backyard, it’s no time to sleep! 

“San-ge!” Xi Ping had no attention to spare for anything else. “Leave the demon seal without delay, hurry! There’s a shed skin on the way to the East Sea!” 

Zhou Ying unhurriedly finished swallowing the last pill. When Xuanyin Mountain was mentioned, his faint air of fed up indifference returned. “So you have your consciousness in the Xuanyin Mountains, too. It’s two against one—how did he run away? Did some ascended spirits get mixed up in the shed skin battle?” 

Xi Ping: “…” 

His guess was very accurate. As soon as these mighty people showed their true colors, others could guess how they would behave. Maybe they ought to go into seclusion and reflect on themselves.

“It’s all right, it won’t be so fast. The other two will give chase,” said Zhou Ying. “Anyway, won’t it be just right if he comes? We’ll be able to witness a shed skin elder consumed by his own heart demon personally tearing open the demon seal.” 

Xi Ping’s heart sank. 

Since he was a child, he had heard the servants gossiping, saying that His Third Highness's ties to his blood relations were weak, that he had an inborn deficiency, that he was unlikely to live to adulthood. Everyone was living for the future, but His Third Highness had no “future”; aspirations and ambitions alike were all transient for him. Others who were frail and sickly might perhaps have other joys, could pick up a lifetime’s worth of karma with their family and friends, leave a bit of something behind in the human world, and some would think their life had been worth living. But what could Zhou Ying leave behind? Since birth, he had been only…an extraneous sack of skin attached to a set of spiritual bones. 

He was a meaningless person. Meaningless people were all like legendary chaos, devouring heaven and earth not to strengthen themselves but only because they wanted to drag everything beautiful and ugly into the chaos. 

In order to prove that they existed, and that their existence was justified. 

“San-ge,” Xi Ping asked tentatively, struggling to calm down, “these last five years, have you not been to see Grandmother?” 

Zhou Ying’s expression didn’t waver. “I’ve seen her. The old lady’s doing pretty well.” 

Xi Ping was no more relaxed now than he had been when Tao County had hung by a thread, but his voice was still very soft. “But I haven’t seen her. San-ge, cut a piece of wood off that tree and give it to the old lady. Take me to see her, please.” 

Zhou Ying said, “When the demon seal has been broken, you’ll be free. Even if you can’t return to your real body, you’ll still be able to travel through reincarnation wood, right? Then you can ask Bai Ling to gift the Marquis Manor a potted reincarnation wood tree. You can go yourself.” 

Xi Ping: “…” 

If he were still a useless layabout in Jinping, as much trouble as the cats and dogs he’d dropped of at Prince Zhuang Manor, making trouble as soon as no one was keeping an eye on him, wouldn’t san-ge be a little more concerned?

Xi Ping's regrets came too late: blazes, he ought to have wailed just now, made himself sound as miserable as possible; if there wasn't enough misery, he could have just made something up. What had he been playing the big shot for?! 

No…he shouldn’t have accepted that selection card back then. 

Zhou Ying’s fingers stroked the coarse grain of the reincarnation wood. “If I insist on breaking the demon seal and throwing the world into turmoil, will you hate me?” 

Xi Ping paused, not answering at first. 

Zhou Ying waited for a moment, then smiled. “Oh, you’ve grown up. You’ve even learned to hide your words.” 

“I don't hate you,” Xi Ping said after a moment of silence, his voice deepening slightly—this was the tone he used as “Tai Sui”. “I know you.”

If even I hated you, wouldn’t that prove that you were right? 

“I was the one who brought out your spiritual bones, and I was the one who told Xu Rucheng to give you the Riverward. You being here now is something I brought about through a sequence of chance and coincidence,” Xi Ping said slowly. “Anyway, it’s the same as the friend I left back in Tao County. If the sky springs a leak, I’ll mend it, and if there’s retribution, I’ll be waiting to meet it for you. You...you go ahead and do just as you like.” 

The corners of Zhou Ying’s eyes twitched slightly. 

“If I’d known before, I probably would have sunk the Riverward…but all the same, if you took me back to the Resurrection Vortex in the East Sea five years ago, I’d still take your spiritual bones out. San-ge, even if you beat me to death, I still won’t regret it.” 

Zhou Ying abruptly turned his head away, his false calm breaking. He seemed unable to take any more. 

“Bastard. Using all the rhetoric I taught you when you were young against me.” 

Zhou Ying waved his sleeve and chopped the blood-stained reincarnation wood tree down. He rolled the tree up in his mustard seed. He raised a hand to lift Xi Ping’s body and dragged it into the depths of the reincarnation wood forest. He took a pearl from his mustard seed and clapped it against the pit of Xi Ping’s stomach. 

The pearl merged with the body and immediately condensed into a layer of brilliance on the body’s surface—this was a “dragon pearl” left behind from before the Great War of Gods and Demons, when the water dragons had yet to be subdued and turned into animal spirits by the Southern Sage; the water dragon clan had used these pearls to protect their young during natural disasters. Even if the sky fell and the earth cracked in the East Sea, it would probably be enough to leave him with an “intact corpse”. 

Then Zhou Ying turned and went back. A bag full of white spirits disappeared into his palm. One after another, he pushed the misplaced inscriptions back where they belonged. 

There was no one to see when, behind Zhou Ying, sword light flashed on the brow of Xi Ping’s quiet body; soon after, everything once again became still.