The Villainous Master Forcibly Redeemed His Corrupted Disciple - Chapter 3

Shen Zong nearly thought he had misheard.

Yet lifting his gaze, Wen Zhihan was already seated cross-legged nearby, his eyes closed and his breath steady, clearly having entered a state of meditation.

Ordinary breath regulation was merely a method for cultivators to advance or rest on a daily basis. However, since Wen Zhihan was injured, entering meditation at this moment allowed him to conduct internal introspection and self-repair simultaneously, cutting off all external sounds and auras.

This was the most vulnerable, completely unshielded state for a cultivator, one where they would only permit the person closest and most trusted to stand guard.

Yet Wen Zhihan actually assigned him to keep guard?

Could there be anything more absurd, any trap that treated a person more like a fool?

Was he not afraid that he would truly strike?

“Ayuan?”

Wen Zhihan had actually started calling his childhood nickname again. What kind of joke was this?

Wen Zhihan clearly despised children the most, even viewing all affectionate forms of address as disgusting and overly sentimental.

Feigning such an act once more now, how could he not find it nauseating?

Especially when he forgot all wretched memories in his dreams, embracing a false, warm master, and wept in his deep sleep because of that ethereal call of Ayuan, those moments were the most sickening of all.

Shen Zong stared at the person close enough to touch. Only at times like this could he abandon all restraint and unreservedly unleash his malicious gaze, indulging in his desire to offend Wen Zhihan.

A smile bordering on frantic bloomed across the youth’s face. He leaned forward, raised a hand, and gently lifted a strand of hair beside his master’s ear, lightly grinding it between his fingertips.

Watching those two strands of black hair, a wisp of ominous dark red surfaced in the depths of his wide-open eyes, and the aura surrounding him grew restless.

Countless chaotic, suffocating voices echoed directly in his mind, causing the meridians throughout his body to prickle with pain.

A familiar and mocking voice sneered by his ear.

Look at this pathetic, fawning appearance you are putting on! Heh.

Not making a move when presented with such a fine opportunity, is it caution, or sheer cowardice?

Are you still refusing to strike because you want to hear Master call you Ayuan again? Hahaha.

Kill him!

With a twitch of his fingernail, he snapped the two finest strands of hair, silently tucking them away into his pouch.

Tsk.

It was his inner demon.

Born from the heart, taking root in the soul.

He had managed to be reborn into a new life and seize the opportunity to set everything right, yet precisely upon his rebirth, he had brought back the inner demon that had tortured him for years in his previous life.

Of all times to act up, it chose this very moment to spiral out of control.

Glancing resentfully at Wen Zhihan, Shen Zong forced his aura to stabilize, deploying protective arrays and talismans before sitting cross-legged to concentrate entirely on suppressing the inner demon.

The time it took to brew a cup of tea passed, and Wen Zhihan slowly opened his eyes.

Seeing that Shen Zong was also meditating and cultivating nearby, he felt no surprise. The child himself carried a few injuries. If he had truly suffered great grievances, perhaps only having his master nearby would allow him to peacefully recuperate.

Moreover, within the immortal dwelling, it was secure enough already, requiring no external guards. Besides, he had not truly been healing just then, but rather utilizing the Bone Inquiry technique to investigate the events of these past eight years.

Yet strangely enough, he had failed. No useful memories remained preserved upon this physical shell that rightfully belonged to him.

Blankly staring at his own hands, Wen Zhihan grew increasingly solemn after a moment of thought.

Unless the physical body was damaged beyond a certain threshold, the Bone Inquiry technique would not fail.

With the situation as it was now, where not even a shred of memory could be detected, only one explanation existed.

That was, the holder of these memories was actively obstructing his probing.

The possessing entity’s divine soul still survived?

How could that be?

Wen Zhihan’s brows furrowed tightly as various possibilities floated through his mind.

Instantly, the pressure of his Nascent Soul stage cultivation leaked outward, nearly startling the disciple nearby.

Hastily reining in his focus, he reorganized his thoughts from the beginning.

It appeared he had underestimated that fellow’s strength.

He had originally intended to inform Shen Zong of everything once he figured out the situation of the past eight years.

In that case, for the sake of caution, his plan to be completely open with Shen Zong and reveal the truth would have to be postponed a little longer.

Before that, no matter to the ends of the earth the residual soul of the usurper had fled, he would definitely drag it out with his own hands.

As for what had transpired over these past few years, he could temporarily investigate through other means.

Pondering briefly, Wen Zhihan settled on a plan and slowly opened his eyes.

Simultaneously, feeling a subtle stirring, Shen Zong awoke as well.

Having temporarily suppressed his inner demon, he did not rush to open his eyes, maintaining the steady breathing posture of someone still deep in meditation.

Wen Zhihan had not genuinely required a guard when he left Shen Zong here. He merely assumed the disciple also felt some discomfort and was tending to himself, so he chose not to disturb him.

Softening his movements, he stepped carefully away from the bed, picked up a fresh set of robes from nearby, and dressed neatly.

After casting a protective barrier around the room that only he and Shen Zong could enter, Wen Zhihan picked up the basin of bloody water and walked slowly outside, figuring he could first track down those outer disciples and subject them to a thorough interrogation.

Yet just as he tossed the bloody water away and turned around, a familiar figure approached him. Initially ten zhang away, the person stood right before him the very next instant.

The newcomer possessed a face as flawless as jade, wore green robes with white cuffs, and carried a short bone flute hanging at his waist. It was none other than Elder Su, the head of the Disciplinary Hall.

Elder Su wore an expressionless face as he glanced at Wen Zhihan, then swept a sideways look at the bloody water just discarded behind him. Pressing the corners of his lips down, he offered an abrupt reminder.

You punished him again?

He paused. What?

I heard no rumors in the Disciplinary Hall and thought you had finally turned over a new leaf, never mind. I merely came to offer a word of warning: if you privately discipline your disciple to the point of taking a life, I will not cover for you.

Without waiting for Wen Zhihan to react further, Elder Su finished his piece, turned on his heel, and walked away.

Amid the serene bamboo grove where a gentle breeze swept past, Wen Zhihan stood alone in place without chasing after him to offer any explanations.

Clearly, Elder Su had misunderstood, mistakenly believing that the basin of bloody water he had thrown out was blood shed by Shen Zong.

And he had spoken with such casual habit.

The deeper he thought, the more alarmed he became.

Anger choked at Wen Zhihan’s chest, his palms growing cold as he struggled to regain his composure.

Most people viewed Elder Su as stern, unsmiling, and taciturn. As the head of the Disciplinary Hall, he rarely joked with anyone, causing most fellow disciples to hold a certain fear of him.

Yet in Wen Zhihan’s memory, Elder Su was actually a warm-hearted, kind person beneath a cold exterior.

Among the thousands of outer and inner sect disciples combined, Elder Su was the only one who could recognize at a single glance whether someone belonged to the sect, and roughly under whose peak they studied.

Such a person would never suffer from blurred memories to the extent of speaking erroneously, let alone fabricate falsehoods on purpose.

His young disciple, Shen Zong, had been bullied.

With furrowed brows and a slightly calmed mind, Wen Zhihan pulled back his long sleeves, stepped lightly into the air, and flew toward the eastern side of Qionghu Peak.

A courtyard stood on the eastern side of the peak, designated specifically for the residence of inner sect disciples. Wen Zhihan remembered that Shen Zong lived here as well.

He intended to inquire with the other resident disciples whether they knew about Shen Zong constantly being punished and mistreated.

Pushing open the door, however, he caught sight of those very outer disciples from earlier.

Not long ago, those were the exact individuals who had indiscriminately pinned a violent crime on Shen Zong and nearly dragged him off to the Disciplinary Hall.

Right now, those fellows were lounging leisurely in the courtyard, sitting with atrocious postures as they snacked on fruits and played dice, leaving garbage scattered everywhere without an ounce of the decorum expected of immortal sect disciples.

He frowned.

Why is it you few?

Peak Master Wen…

Ah! Why has the Peak Master come?

Hastily plastering ingratiating and flattering smiles across their faces, they stood up, bowing and scraping.

Suppressing his surging fury, he asked directly, Are you living here?

Yes, indeed! Thanks to Peak Master Wen’s special permission, otherwise how could we ever live in such a fine place?

You are asking about Shen Zong?

Oh him, wasn’t he dispatched by you to the woodshed to temper his mind and body!

The woodshed.

Shen Zong actually lacked even a proper place to live?

What kind of life had he been living this whole time?

Peak Master Wen, look, we only acted according to your instructions earlier, doing everything as told…

With a swift swish, Wen Zhihan formed a hand seal with one hand, casting a Silence Curse upon them. The shifty-eyed disciples widened their eyes in panic, their mouths clamped tightly shut, unable to utter another syllable.

Stripping away their command tokens, Wen Zhihan retrieved a dozen silver needles from his spiritual pouch. With a flick of his wrist and a snap of his fingers, he embedded the silver needles straight into their acupuncture points.

Spouting slander, harming fellow disciples, and breaking sect regulations, your dispositions are base and your conduct deplorable, rendering you unworthy of being immortal sect disciples. I have already sealed the spiritual meridians throughout your bodies, voided your Hantian Sect disciple tokens, and given you six hours to pack up and leave this place, never to step foot within the sect gates again!

Panic struck those men instantly. Every single one of them collapsed to the ground with ashen, terrified expressions, unable to make a sound due to the Silence Curse as they kowtowed and begged for mercy.

Ignoring them entirely, Wen Zhihan turned and strode away, the wind at his heels mirroring his lingering fury.

He wanted nothing more than to directly execute these scoundrels on the spot, yet realizing their bullying of Shen Zong had occurred under his own tacit approval or even instigation, he felt that venting his rage on these petty lackeys was utterly pathetic.

What on earth had he done in the past, no, what on earth had that possessing bastard done with his body?

If only he were truly not Wen Zhihan.

Perhaps seeking to calm his racing thoughts through a brisk walk, Wen Zhihan did not use his spiritual power or fly on a sword, simply turning the thought over in his mind.

During his forced exile in the alien realms, Wen Zhihan had personally executed many enemies, most of whom could hardly be classified as human, fighting purely to survive and to maintain his unshakeable dao heart.

If he were not Wen Zhihan, if he were still struggling for survival in the spatial rifts of the alien realms, he could have drawn his blade and let blood seal the fate of all injustices.

Yet he could not do so now. This was Qionghu Peak, and this was his Hantian Sect.

Unawares, he had walked back before the doors of his own bedchamber.

Peach trees had once flourished here, but they had all been replaced by willows and locust trees. As the spring breeze swept past, it carried a chilling, dreary aura.

The scenery was no longer as it used to be.

Wen Zhihan.

The voice of the usurper suddenly rang out.

Wen Zhihan abruptly drew his sword, thrusting it toward a nearby locust tree with a dense canopy and a trunk twisted into human-like shapes.

A wisp of black Qi dissipated as the tip of the blade sank straight into the trunk, actually oozing a stream of black blood.

It is you?

With the voice echoing in wild, rampant laughter, Wen Zhihan immediately formed hand seals with both hands, attempting to seal off the residual soul as a golden beam slammed fiercely against the tree trunk.

Hahahahaha.

You think you are saving him? No, you have ruined him! He was originally the protagonist of this world, blessed by the fortune of the heavens, yet you destroyed everything! You destroyed everything!

Only I, only I could guide him back to the plot and become the supreme ruler of the immortal world above all others! Unifying the Three Realms!

Clearly I was his true guide… You should all kneel down and kowtow in gratitude to me!