The Villainous Master Forcibly Redeemed His Corrupted Disciple - Chapter 4

“You are courting death.”

Wen Zhihan brought his index and middle fingers together into a sword hand and tapped them against the floating spirit, causing golden threads to instantly rise from the ground. Like spiritual serpents, they coiled around the gray mist, binding and tightening it securely.

The frantic voice was choked as if a grip had clamped down on its throat, its overwhelming momentum instantly plummeting.

“Retract!”

At his command, the cage of golden threads gradually tightened, squeezing the gray mist within until it shrank to the size of a green bean. Wen Zhihan easily pinched it between his fingertips, treating it as though it were no more than an insect.

That was precisely the fragment of residual soul that the usurper had hidden away here.

The gray mist struggled unceasingly, yet it remained firmly locked by the golden threads, emitting wisps of pale smoke as if being burned.

Seeing that it was still instinctively struggling, Wen Zhihan exerted force through his fingertips, shrinking the golden cage down by yet another circle.

A surge of killing intent erupted in an instant, and he almost wanted to immediately crush this arrogant and hateful fragment, but ultimately forced himself to remain calm.

Regardless of why this residual soul fragment appeared here, whether by coincidence or as a trap, he could not easily let go of this opportunity.

As the golden thread cage constricted to its absolute limit, the Soul Dissolution technique instantly unfurled.

So-called Soul Dissolution was a cruel technique that sacrificed the complete destruction of a soul’s foundation in order to probe every single secret it held.

Yet what he held in his palm was merely a fragment of a residual soul, meaning it should only be able to yield a minimal amount of information. Still, something was better than nothing.

The annoyed, shrill scream faded away in a split second, and a blurred scene began to unspool.

Amidst a landscape of dense fog and mountain wilderness where tree crowns blocked the sunlight, a pack of fanged fierce beasts burst into a frenzy, charging toward a group of only five cultivators.

These were common fierce beasts of the mortal realm, which Wen Zhihan recognized, but their bodies were wrapped in purplish-black miasma, making them look deeply ominous and seemingly devoid of reason.

The next moment, the lean figure of a youth was pushed to the forefront.

“Right now is the time to test the fruits of your cultivation. Go on and give a fine performance.”

Wen Zhihan felt the perspective was rather strange. Upon closer inspection and listening, the person speaking was none other than himself.

Then he watched as the youth pushed toward the fierce beasts turned his head, casting one final glance back at the group.

That was…

“Charge in,”

He heard his own voice ring out, carrying a trace of malice-laden laughter,

“Shen Zong.”

Danger!

With so many fierce beasts ahead, not only were they driven mad, but Shen Zong’s cultivation at the time was entirely insufficient to resist them.

This was no tempering exercise; this was clearly sending someone to their death!

Watching the fierce beasts instantly close the distance toward the youth, Wen Zhihan grew intensely anxious, desperate to rush forward.

Yet this was a memory accessed through Soul Dissolution, an event that had already occurred in the past.

Powerless to intervene, he could only watch.

With a hum, spiritual energy flooded a long sword. The youth raised his sword and charged, forced to face beasts whose sizes were four or five times his own with nothing more than his physical flesh.

Shen Zong rapidly executed one spell technique after another, his long sword fluttering into mere afterimages. He blocked two fierce beasts in front of him, yet a third lunged from behind, striking his back with a claw.

The fierce beast’s sharp claws left a deep, bloody gash across his back.

“Cough…”

Shen Zong’s body was sent flying instantly, crashing into a distant tree trunk as he spat a mouthful of fresh blood from the heavy impact.

If this continued…

Watching with a pounding heart, Wen Zhihan felt an inexplicable, vaguely familiar sense of panic well up in his chest.

However, just as the fierce beast was about to claim his life, the tremor of the tree trunk shook loose a cascade of falling leaves. A dark, pitch-black object plummeted down simultaneously, landing squarely atop the head of a charging fierce beast.

Lacking higher cognitive faculties, the beast assumed it was an ambush by someone and viciously swatted the melon-sized object away.

The next second, an ominous buzzing sound echoed as a living cloud of black swarmed out from the batted object, surrounding the fierce beast entirely.

“Awoo…”

The miserable and furious roars of beasts startled the wild animals and birds of the mountain. One fierce beast after another found themselves surrounded by the buzzing black cloud because they only knew how to attack.

Within mere breaths, the fierce beasts collapsed onto the ground, devoid of any movement.

These were none other than bloodthirsty demonic bees.

Things of this sort would cause even powerful cultivators to change their expressions, because even if one could deal with them using arrays and spell techniques, getting stung once by accident remained entirely unavoidable.

The sudden arrival of the bloodthirsty demonic bees resolved those fierce beasts, inadvertently saving Shen Zong’s life. Because they had eaten their fill, they left behind a massive quantity of golden bee stingers upon the beasts’ carcasses, which served as top-tier ingredients for alchemy.

“Hahahahaha…”

Witnessing this, Wen Zhihan burst into raucous laughter, as though watching a fine theatrical performance. “A miracle, Shen Zong. You have cheated death yet again. Hahaha, truly worthy of being the protagonist who ruins everything.”

“Master…”

Still injured and seemingly in great agony, Shen Zong climbed up from the ground, cold sweat dripping down his face. The corners of his mouth twitched in an expression that was impossible to tell whether it was a smile or something else.

“Master is truly brilliant, calculating every step to perfection. This disciple falls far short.”

“What is that expression on your face? Could it be that you are unconvinced?”

Unexpectedly, Shen Zong’s master remained unsatisfied by such obsequious compliance, instead launching into a capricious reprimand.

“Shen Zong, do not forget that your master is doing this for your own good! To suffer a loss is to gain a blessing. My actions are proof of my trust and regard for you, so you ought to know gratitude.”

“…”

“Speak! Have you turned mute?!”

“…Understood, this disciple will strictly heed your teachings.”

At the tail end of the scene, several unfamiliar disciples who had previously cowered in fear of the beasts and demonic bees emerged. Following Wen Zhihan’s instructions, they meticulously gathered up all the previous bee stingers, stuffing them straight into his pocket as their master.

A sheet of mist drifted across, and the memory scene broke off right there.

When the mist finally dissipated once more, Wen Zhihan found himself seated inside his bedchamber, with Shen Zong standing right before him, tightly gripping a dagger in his hand.

The dagger was roughly seven inches long, its hilt carved with cloud patterns, precisely the same weapon that had pierced his abdomen shortly before.

Wen Zhihan’s breathing hitched, unable to keep from tensing up.

This scene was what happened right before he transmigrated back here.

“You… are…”

Shen Zong spoke with strained difficulty.

“Heh…”

He heard his own voice laughing, opening both arms while a spell formation of illusionary arts beneath his feet emitted a dim, obscure glow. “Hurry up and make your move, Shen Zong.”

As those words fell, Shen Zong’s pupils trembled slightly, as if his mind had been hijacked. An intent to kill suddenly burst forth, and he cleanly thrust his blade forward.

The instant blood splattered, the illusion formation vanished. Shen Zong’s pupils abruptly regained clarity; his body swayed as he instinctively withdrew the dagger and took a step back.

A wave of dizziness washed over Wen Zhihan. The scene before his eyes suddenly scattered, marking the end of the memory fragments retrieved through Soul Dissolution.

Standing in place, Wen Zhihan clenched his hands by his sides until they trembled slightly from the excessive force.

The soul captured at his fingertips burned like paper, turning into scattered ash within moments. Staring blankly at the swirling ash, he found Shen Zong’s bloodied figure lingering vividly in his vision.

In the memory fragment, Shen Zong’s build when facing the fierce beasts was roughly the same as his current stature, meaning that should have transpired within the past half-year.

Followed by what had just happened, he finally understood the truth behind that blade wound on his abdomen.

It was the usurper who had used illusionary arts to manipulate a heavily injured and unrecovered Shen Zong, while deliberately conspiring with others to frame him.

Without a doubt, perhaps Shen Zong did not know the truth and could not verify whether it was his master’s doing, but how could he, the perpetrator, not know?

No wonder Shen Zong’s body stiffened when he checked his pulse, and no wonder he had detected several old and hidden injuries on the child’s body.

No wonder he had offered not a single word of defense.

If only he had returned sooner.

If only he had launched a counter-kill from the very start, sending that despicable usurper’s soul scattering into nothingness.

The pressure of a mighty cultivator leaked outward in an instant, and a swirling gust rose from beneath his feet, shredding falling leaves and residual petals as it burst violently around Wen Zhihan.

In a split second, even the softest floral pistils transformed into sharp blades, piercing into the distant soil and tree trunks.

Fortunately, his mental fortitude remained quite strong, and the wind ceased the very next second. Wen Zhihan’s chest heaved heavily several times before he finally opened his eyes once more.

This was no time to let emotions take the wheel; he had to remain calm.

He strode into his bedchamber.

The Soul Dissolution technique not only allowed him to view the memories stored within a soul, but also permitted him to dissect all of its components, leaving no secrets hidden.

Thus, alongside this memory, he now also possessed the usurper’s birth date and time, the general scope of his cultivation and strength, and the locations of other surviving soul fragments.

As well as the most basic piece of information: his real name.

Bai Chixin.

If he could gather all the soul fragments and subject each one to the Soul Dissolution technique, he would be able to uncover even more precise information.

Thinking thus, Wen Zhihan retrieved a blank scroll from a cabinet beside the bedchamber, recording the information he had just uncovered onto it so as not to forget.

While regular paper could also be used for writing and recording, for the sake of security, cloth-backed scrolls were far sturdier; they would not dissolve upon contact with water, nor would the ink blur easily, making them resistant to damage from hard objects.

After noting down that information, he fell into deep thought before adding a keyword below it.

Protagonist.

Initially, he had assumed that was merely the raving nonsense of the usurper Bai Chixin, meant to confuse his vision and bargain for a thread of survival, but after witnessing the memories, he was no longer certain.

Why would Bai Chixin believe Shen Zong was the protagonist? The meaning of that term seemed to imply that the fortune of the heavens gathered entirely around Shen Zong. Since his designation of the protagonist was sincere, was his self-proclamation as the guide sincere as well?

Had Shen Zong been targeted by this fellow precisely because he possessed such destiny? Or was this merely the delusional babbling of Bai Chixin?

“Master.”

Wen Zhihan spun around abruptly, only to realize that Shen Zong was standing behind him at some point, with no way of knowing whether he had seen what was written.

He simply attributed it to being too engrossed in his thoughts to notice his disciple’s aura.

“Your bloodstained outer robe was damaged, so this disciple has already taken care of it for you.”

“Ayuan, you…”

The moment he saw his disciple’s face, Wen Zhihan recalled the scene of him heavily injured. The himself of back then had cared only about gathering those precious bee stingers, completely ignoring the exhausted Shen Zong. What happened afterward? How did things pan out later?

Were his wounds properly tended to? The claws of fierce beasts were mostly poisonous; had he properly taken his detoxification medicine?

To be treated like that by his most trusted master at such a moment, had his heart grown cold?