Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Human Heart Is Hard to Fathom

After a long silence, Lin Feng finally lifted his head and declared resolutely, “At King’s Village, Yin Chaozong sought to harm me. If I did not obey, he threatened to slaughter the entire village. Under duress, I was forced to call him and his grandson my kin. That day, when the red-haired monster fought him, Yin Chaozong was doomed—his emotions spiraled out of control in the face of inevitable death, and only then did I seize my chance to escape his clutches.”

Without weaving this lie, Lin Feng knew his fate would be sealed today. If the charge of colluding with the demonic path was confirmed, no amount of merit or achievement could save him from destruction and disgrace.

“Hmph! What about your disappearance in the Ice Cave? How do you explain that?” Yan Dongjue’s tone had softened, evidently somewhat convinced by Lin Feng’s account.

This question struck Lin Feng’s sore spot, and his cheeks flushed as he stammered, “At that time, Brother Feng and Sister Chen were battling the beast. I was afraid—afraid they would be distracted by having to look after me, so I hid in the grotto.”

Jun Wuji, who had remained silent, quietly watched the exchange between the two. Now he smiled and said, “Since the matter has been clarified, Lin Feng, you may follow Yi Yuan down the mountain.”

Yan Dongjue seemed unwilling to let it go, urgently protesting, “Master, but—”

Jun Wuji waved his hand. “The matter is resolved, Brother Yan, say no more. You may leave now.”

“Yes!” Feng Yi Yuan and Lin Feng replied in unison, withdrawing from the great hall.

On the Cloud Ladder platform, Lin Feng was silent. The upright image he had once held of Feng Yi Yuan had now shattered, his heart sinking to the depths, chilled and pressed by a suffocating weight. All that remained was a desperate cry within: “Why? Why?”

“Brother Lin, don’t blame us for speaking the truth. Regarding the demonic path, we dared not conceal anything in the Langhuan Hall, so…” Feng Yi Yuan, his back turned, spoke slowly.

Lin Feng gazed deeply at the figure ahead, silent for a moment before replying, “Brother Feng, you overthink. How could I blame you or Sister Chen?”

“That’s good. Brother Lin, I can see the Master values you greatly. Do not disappoint him.” Feng Yi Yuan turned and smiled.

“Yes, Brother Feng,” Lin Feng replied softly.

…

Back in Langhuan Hall, Jun Wuji again closed his rarely opened starry eyes and spoke aloud, “This matter is settled. If you have no business, brothers and sisters, you may disperse.”

Huichun Mountain and the Lotus Fairy were about to rise and say their farewells when Yan Dongjue interjected, “Master, the whereabouts of the Heart-Devouring Ghost Grass are unknown. I fear it may fall into the hands of the demonic path and bring bloodshed.”

“And what do you propose?” Jun Wuji smiled.

Yan Dongjue answered coldly, “We should send more people to Chen Prefecture to search—alive or dead, we must find Yin Chaozong! I cannot rest until his fate is uncovered.”

At these words, the faces of those present changed. Jun Wuji suddenly opened his eyes, two golden rays shooting forth, his voice deep. “Brother, the Heart-Devouring Ghost Grass is important, but it cannot cause such turmoil. It is you I worry about most!”

Yan Dongjue’s expression shifted. “What do you mean, Master?”

Jun Wuji frowned, looking at Yan Dongjue with gravity. “Brother, you have managed the sect’s affairs with clear rewards and punishments, earning respect from all disciples. I am gratified. But never forget—the hardest path for us cultivators is the cultivation of the heart. The Ten Absolutes Sword is steeped in killing intent, and you practice the Immortal-Slaying Formula. Do not let it lead you astray.”

Yan Dongjue stood stunned, then nodded. “Thank you for your guidance, Master. My heart wavers—I was too eager for results.”

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Jun Wuji breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Huichun Mountain. “Brother, the Winter Solstice approaches. I must trouble you with the refining of the Foundation-Pill.”

The Saint Hand of Huichun Mountain smiled. “Rest assured, Master. All spiritual materials are prepared. Once the auspicious hour arrives, I can begin.”

“Good. That will suffice. Sister, do you have anything to add?” Jun Wuji looked warmly at Qin Menglan.

The Lotus Fairy stood and replied, “Master, the demonic path has been dormant for years but seems restless now. Should we send disciples to patrol? This would strengthen the righteous reputation of our Hundred Flowers Sect and deter petty evildoers, cutting off their schemes.”

Yan Dongjue agreed, “Sister is right. Lately, the demonic path covets our sect’s immortal herbs. I have stationed guards at the three gardens, but this may hinder their cultivation. Master, what do you think?”

Jun Wuji pondered, looking at the three below. “There is no need to rush. After the New Year, when new disciples join, assign them to worldly trials. For now, you may go.”

The two were surprised, but Huichun Mountain kept his constant smile, saying nothing further. All three stood, bowed respectfully, and exited Langhuan Hall.

“Brother, since the Master emerged from seclusion, he’s been taciturn and changed—he seems less concerned with sect affairs. Do you think…” Qin Menglan transmitted her words as they walked the Cloud Ladder.

“Sister, don’t speculate! The Master must have broken through his bottleneck—his state of mind is naturally different. We cannot presume to judge.” Yan Dongjue spoke gravely.

The Lotus Fairy gently furrowed her brow. “Perhaps I’m overthinking.”

Descending the Cloud Ladder, the three bid each other farewell at Sword Riding Platform, transforming into rainbows of three colors and flying off.

Time flowed onward. More than a month had passed since the Master’s inquiry, and rumors had faded with the first snow. The disciples of Mount Qiyun were about to face the harshest days of winter.

Each morning until noon, in Snake Vine Valley on Heaven’s Gate Peak, a youth practiced spear techniques beneath an ancient banyan tree, a lazy dog sprawled at his feet, its eyes darting slyly.

“Black Steed, watch closely! This move is called ‘Sole Dominion of the World!’” Though the punch seemed ordinary, at its peak it burst forth with a white arc, like sword energy, whistling through the air.

“Still not enough. The force falls short of what the manual describes—where is the problem?” To produce such a sonic boom with one hand was already far beyond most in the mid-Stage of Qi Refinement, but Lin Feng remained unsatisfied, for he practiced the rare, fragmented volume of ‘Tyrant’s Might.’

After half a month, he had mastered the basics of the manual. But upon reaching the second scroll, ‘Might Over Nine Provinces,’ no matter how many times he practiced, the first move never met expectations, frustrating him greatly.

Having advanced to the mid-stage, mere cultivation of the Longevity Technique was insufficient; he needed to delve into martial arts and spells to lay the groundwork for later stages, finding a path suited to himself, so as to break through and reach the coveted Foundation stage.

Since his days at King’s Village, he had resolved to perfect his spear art. Someday, he would wield that giant spear—what a breathtaking scene it would be! By his estimation, the spear weighed tens of thousands of pounds; without superhuman strength, how could anyone handle it? Though his meridians and constitution had been transformed by Manjusha Hua, granting him unnatural strength, he still needed to hone his external skills. In a sect where everyone was a tiger, this would be his trump card for survival.

“Enough. Maybe my cultivation isn’t high enough. The Winter Solstice is near—I should prepare to join the winter hunt with Little Pinecone.” Lin Feng picked up his Snow Pear Blossom Spear and twisted Black Steed’s ever-lengthening ears, sighing, “You! Keep your ears tight. If you howl recklessly when you grow up, you might get your paws chopped off!”

The next day, the mountains were blanketed in heavy snow, flakes the size of pancakes falling for two days and nights. The Qiyun Mountain range was sealed off.

“Phew… thankfully, the cleaning was timely, and the house didn’t collapse.” Looking at the mountains of snow, Lin Feng gripped his broom with satisfaction. In the biting air, a group of impoverished disciples his age stood on rooftops, bamboo brooms in hand, battling nature’s fury.

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After the snow, the annual winter hunt began.

At this time of year, wealthy disciples reaped the most contribution points. All the beasts and monsters of Qiyun Mountain were fair game, with some earning in a single hunt what others struggled for all year, sparing nothing that moved.

In the vast wilderness, two figures walked side by side—a wild dog frolicked in the snow, chasing a teasing sparrow.

Lin Feng and Du Song Song each carried two badger pelts, trudging through deep snow. With the mountain sealed, beasts ventured out by day to search for food, making them easy targets. The two had just cleaned out a den of raccoons, earning a tidy sum, and planned to find a cave for the night before venturing deeper tomorrow.

Behind them, the distant barks of dogs and neighs of horses echoed—the affluent disciples gathering for their hunt.

Turning, they saw dozens of hunting dogs bounding toward them, followed by a group of riders clad in luxurious cloaks, armed with bows and swords, boasting and laughing atop their steeds.

This group, led by Nangong Ke and Jiang Baifeng, dominated the outer sect, forming their own faction. Their mounts were sand-colored, healthy, and strong, barely disturbing the deep snow beneath their hooves.

Only the wealthy could afford such steeds—they ate exclusively ‘Horse Fern Celery,’ a feed Lin Feng and Du Song Song could neither buy nor maintain.

The hunting dogs stopped a few yards ahead, barking fiercely, their black fur bristling, backs arched, spraying hot breath and saliva, fangs gleaming in the snow—a true case of dogs bullying underlings!

The two raised their weapons defensively, staring coldly.

“Well, isn’t it Brother Lin and Brother Du? What a coincidence, hunting in this cold?” Nangong Ke called out loudly, laughing with his companions, not even bothering to look them in the eye.

“Let’s go!” Lin Feng narrowed his eyes, dragging Du Song Song to leave.

“Ha, be careful not to get dragged off by mountain monsters! Hyah!” Nangong Ke whipped his horse, which neighed and kicked up snow as it sped off.

“Hyah!” “Hyah!” The others followed suit, spurring their mounts and galloping away in a flurry of snow.

From afar, Black Steed and the Golden-Winged Sparrow slunk back. The hunting dogs barked wildly but dared not approach, glancing back before disappearing into the snow.

“They’re so outrageous! Those dog-bred bastards!” Du Song Song clenched his fists, cursing bitterly.

“Dogs can’t become men—they only bite.” Lin Feng brushed snow from his head, a cold smile on his lips.

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