Although Yan Zhengming was usually too lazy to lose his temper, at this moment, with their lives at stake, he could distinguish the gravity of the situation. He knew that the Master had no one else to send. Upon hearing the command, he rarely said anything, neither looking for trouble nor throwing glances at those around him. The two who had been walking through the mountains carried rattan chairs, now having received the spell, immediately turned around, picked up their swords, and hurried out of the mission hall.
Cheng Qian could no longer focus on figuring out what was wrong with his master. In his mind, his senior brother was an unreliable person. The Master had sent him to save someone, and Cheng Qian was now worried that Han Yuan might already be on the brink of death.
Without thinking, Cheng Qian grabbed a wooden sword. "Master, I'm going too!"
Mu Chun paused for a moment, then nodded under Yan Zhengming's disapproving gaze. "Well, let's go."
Li Yun, who had been standing quietly beside them, was taken aback. He quickly chased after them, and in a rare soft voice, he begged, "Master—Senior brother, take me with you too."
Yan Zhengming shot him a sharp look, his face stern. He didn't give an immediate answer but quickened his pace, allowing him to follow.
As they walked, Young Master Yan pulled a piece of white silk from his robe and threw it into Cheng Qian's hand, along with an old sandalwood plaque. He instructed, "You're just a burden. I don't see it as anything important, but take this and clean up the wood shavings."
The eldest brother was swift and efficient, a rare occurrence, and Cheng Qian, for once, was also rare in not being overly cautious. He felt guilty about Han Yuan trespassing into the mountains and seemed to have taken it upon himself to rescue him. At this moment, whatever Yan Zhengming said was of little concern to him. He even momentarily abandoned his previous resentment and walked a few steps before wiping the spell on his hand. Then, he asked in a somewhat humble voice, "Senior brother, who is the real Zipeng?"
Yan Zhengming didn't scold him but paused for a moment, realizing he had been arguing with a younger disciple barely taller than his chest. After some thought, he felt somewhat ashamed.
So, after a brief silence, Yan Zhengming answered Cheng Qian's question in a flat tone. "Zipeng Zhenren is the old demon of Zhenshan. She's easy to talk to. I used to send her New Year greetings."
"What kind of demon is she?" Cheng Qian asked, his curiosity piqued. "Wouldn't it be better for Master to visit her himself?"
"Of course not," Yan Zhengming answered, impatience creeping into his voice. He walked faster, forcing Cheng Qian to trot to keep up. His senior brother's words came in the wind. "Master can't see Zipeng Zhenren because she's an old woman. I told you, if you want to follow, just follow, but don't ask too many questions. Be careful you don't wander into Demon Valley and get caught up in something taboo. Just be a good little companion to that kid."
It took a moment for Cheng Qian to realize that the Master hadn't visited Zipeng Zhenren because he wanted to avoid suspicion—after all, "greeting a rat for the New Year" wasn't exactly the most flattering phrase.
His thoughts jumped to this conclusion, and the corners of his eyes twitched. He couldn't help but wonder if Master and the old Zhenren were really some "reclusive rats" living in the mountains!
Meanwhile, the "reclusive rat," who had been living quietly in the mountains, was not in a good state. As soon as the three of them left, Cheng Qian stepped back, retreating into a gān daoist posture, and collapsed onto the table like a puddle of mud. A black smoke seemed to rise from his heart, and the entity that had been attached to him a moment ago detached itself, forming a shadowy figure by his side.
The hand that had been holding the talisman trembled violently, and after a long moment, the voice of the shadow emerged in a hoarse whisper. "Are you mad?"
The shadow stood in silence for a long time before responding softly, "My mark is too much for the Demon Emperor to deal with. As long as those children take my spell, they will be fine. This journey is necessary. You can be assured."
Mu Chun, with a darkened face, seemed to be held back by some unseen force. He couldn't rise, but his voice was firm. "Although this old man is ignorant and blind, I haven't reached the point where I can't recognize the 'bright and dark symbols.' What's the point of sending those children into the Demon Valley? Ordinary lightning charms can protect them, not to mention Zipeng herself. She won't embarrass a few children… What do you want, gān? What's the true nature of the dark charm embedded in them?"
This time, the shadow did not answer.
Mu Chun's voice was sharp as he shouted, "Speak!"
But the shadow dispersed like smoke, leaving no trace, leaving only a faint sigh—almost as though it had never existed.
t had only been a month since Cheng Qian joined the Fuyao Sect, and now he found himself facing the biggest crisis of his life. He had wanted to follow his haughty senior brother, who was smug as ever, and his second senior brother, who had a mind full of schemes. Together, as a disciple of the "reclusive mouse," they ventured into the den to rescue their fourth junior brother—who might have already been half-eaten by some monster.
What if the real Zhenren refused to let go? What if, by the time they arrived, the fourth junior brother had already become someone's dinner?
Cheng Qian stared at the spell in his hand. After the Master carved the wooden plaque, he handed it to them without explaining its use or how to activate it. At the time, the eldest brother had simply taken it and left, without asking questions. Did he really have no clue about its purpose?
Cheng Qian hesitated, but his doubts were quickly dismissed. Despite his initial skepticism, it seemed that his senior brother did, after all, possess some knowledge of the craft. So, Cheng Qian, gathering his courage, bit the bullet and asked, "Senior brother, do you know what Master's purpose is with this spell?"
Yan Zhengming responded without hesitation, "Thunder."
Cheng Qian breathed a sigh of relief, glad that his senior brother had at least some understanding of the spell's purpose. After all, someone with Yan Zhengming's level of expertise could not possibly have been so confident without reason.
However, Cheng Qian remained unaware that his senior brother was far from a master of magic. In fact, Yan Zhengming was simply guessing based on the shape of the spell, assuming it resembled a lightning charm. His lack of depth in the craft was clear—he had never bothered to delve deeply into spells, merely memorizing basic shapes to satisfy the Master's expectations.
Soon, the three of them reached the back mountain. Unlike Cheng Qian, the other two were already familiar with the terrain.
The back mountain was dominated by a sheer cliff that descended straight into an abyss. From the crevices between rocks, one could see the dark void below, with the wind swirling through the cracks.
Cheng Qian glanced down, his heart jumping into his throat. The drop was so high, so deep, that he had never encountered such a dangerous place before. His face paled, and instinctively, he turned to retreat, but after a moment, he found himself strangely drawn to the edge. With a deep breath, he suppressed his nausea and cautiously looked down again.
Perhaps it was because he had been raised to follow the rules, but for the first time, Cheng Qian realized that he was beginning to enjoy the thrill of standing on the edge of such a dangerous abyss.
"What are you looking at? Do you want to fall and become a meat pie?" Yan Zhengming scolded, yanking Cheng Qian back with a firm grip on his shoulder.
He couldn't understand why young disciples were always so drawn to courting death. Reflecting on his own youth, Yan Zhengming realized that he had been far more cautious—never misbehaving or seeking danger. Perhaps Master had chosen a group of oddballs this time.
As they continued their journey, they soon heard the sound of rushing water. Yan Zhengming stomped his foot in the mud, his face contorting as though the shoes on his feet had been sullied. After getting his feet stuck, he turned to Li Yun. "We're almost there. This way."
Li Yun, who was known for his irrepressible emotions, showed no reaction. Cheng Qian couldn't help but wonder how he would have fared if the two senior brothers had turned on each other—could he really have intervened in time?
However, to his surprise, Li Yun remained silent, allowing Yan Zhengming's harsh words to wash over him as if the senior brother's sharp remarks had somehow soothed his troubled heart.
They soon arrived at the edge of a large pond at the mountain's peak.
"Does it have water?" Yan Zhengming asked, before muttering to himself. "No, it's fine. Hold your breath, and stay close. Don't rush."
Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Cheng Qian's wrist with obvious disdain, as if touching him was the worst possible thing. Cheng Qian had never felt such a delicate touch before—his hands were as soft as silk, with no rough spots, unlike anyone else's. Even his sword-holding hands had small calluses, but this one had none.
Then, without warning, Cheng Qian was pulled into the icy waters.
The cold took his breath away, and he struggled to stay afloat. The force of the splash from the three of them jumping in made it difficult to keep track of his bearings. Cheng Qian clutched the wooden plaque tightly in his arms, as Yan Zhengming led them forward, seemingly indifferent to the direction they were headed.
Soon, they encountered a boulder that blocked their path.
Yan Zhengming tugged at Cheng Qian's sleeve, using it to wipe away the moss and water plants from the stone's surface. As he did so, he discovered a small Big Dipper etched into the rock.
He traced the constellation's shape and pressed down on a specific point with his thumb.
A loud "bang" echoed, and the stone door opened wide. Cheng Qian, nearly swept away by the rushing water, struggled to hold on, his hands desperately gripping the stone gate.
As the water calmed, Cheng Qian realized he was standing on solid ground.
Behind the stone gate lay a narrow passage running through the water. The water seemed to be defying gravity, flowing through an invisible barrier, like a transparent pipe.
Cheng Qian could feel the droplets falling from his body, merging back into the water below.