Chapter 33

Shen Qingqiu stared at the young man before him—so familiar, yet now utterly alien. His limbs locked, his throat went dry.

Hadn't it been agreed? Wasn't he supposed to return in five years?

Shouldn't Luo Binghe be in the Endless Abyss right now, battling through thorns and monsters, tempering his sword and grinding for experience? Why had he appeared here, ahead of schedule, within the Huan Hua Palace encirclement?

Why two years early!

Why the rush? Leveling up too fast is unstable, Brother Luo!

The impulse to turn, to charge down the stairs, to flee Jinlan City and this damned world altogether seized Shen Qingqiu. But his first retreating step was blocked by Gongyi Xiao, who, of all times, chose that moment to ask, "Senior Shen? Why are you stepping back?"

...You really have no sense of timing or atmosphere, do you, Young Master Gongyi?

From behind him came a low, gentle voice. "Shizun?"

Shen Qingqiu's neck stiffened as he slowly turned his head.

It was just a simple motion, but it felt as if the weight of a mountain pressed upon his skull. Luo Binghe's flawlessly handsome face was, at this moment, the most terrifying sight in the world.

Even more terrifying was the expression on that face. It wasn't icy cold, nor a smile hiding a dagger. It was a soft, gentle warmth that seemed to melt into one's very bones.

Oh, come on, don't look at me like that. It's terrifying!

The more tender and affectionate Luo Binghe's smile, the more certain his opponent's soul-shattering demise. This was no joke.

Shen Qingqiu stood frozen on the stair landing, trapped between going up or down, a chill raising the hairs on his spine.

Luo Binghe approached slowly, his voice soft. "It really is Shizun."

His words were light, yet each syllable that left his lips, like the soft footfall on the wooden floorboards, sent Shen Qingqiu's heart plunging as if from a great height into an icy bucket.

The executioner's blade was already at his neck—he had no choice but to proceed! Steeling himself, Shen Qingqiu gritted his teeth. The veins on his right hand, gripping his fan, stood out faintly. With a flick of his left hand to straighten his azure robe, he took the final step onto the second floor.

The moment he stood level, he wanted to weep.

Back during the Immortal Alliance Conference, Luo Binghe had met his gaze eye-to-eye. Now, Shen Qingqiu had to tilt his head up slightly to look at him. Just in presence alone, he was already at a disadvantage.

Fortunately, Shen Qingqiu had years of experience in maintaining appearances. No matter the turmoil within, at least a mask of calm composure was permanently etched onto his face. After a long moment, he managed to force a hoarse sentence from his throat. "...What is the meaning of this?"

Luo Binghe merely smiled slightly, seemingly with no intention to answer.

Instead, the group of Huan Hua Palace disciples behind him surged forward, blocking the way.

It was only then Shen Qingqiu noticed their attitude was all wrong.

In his early years, Shen Qingqiu had been a master who swept across the realm. Disciples from other sects, even his peers, would rarely fail to show him deliberate respect. Yet these Huan Hua Palace disciples seemed brimming with hostility toward him. Their gazes were unfriendly; some had already drawn their weapons. With Luo Binghe standing silently among them, a group of righteous sect youths looked more like a mob of underlings ready to swarm and fight for their boss, or demonic hounds poised for murder and arson...

Have you got it wrong, youngsters? Don't be so eager to volunteer as bodyguards. Does the person behind you even need protecting?! He's fine—it's me who needs protection! Me!

Seeing the tense atmosphere, Gongyi Xiao stepped between them, chiding in a low voice, "Sheathe your swords. What kind of behavior is this?"

The crowd reluctantly complied, those who had drawn their blades sliding them back into their scabbards, but their hostility toward Shen Qingqiu diminished little.

No wonder. No wonder Gongyi Xiao wasn't leading this mission. In the past, a single word from the most favored senior disciple would have silenced any dissent. But now, with the brainwashing prowess of the blackened Luo Binghe present, he was the absolute center. Leadership would never fall to anyone else for ten thousand years.

Yet even as his mind reeled, Shen Qingqiu couldn't fathom it. When had Luo Binghe infiltrated Huan Hua Palace? According to the original plot, that shouldn't happen for at least two more years!

The two sides stood in a stiff standoff. Suddenly, a delicate young woman in a pale yellow gown stepped forward from the side, tears streaming. "How can you all stand here like this now? Young Master Luo... Young Master Luo has been harmed by that villain. Shouldn't we think of a solution first?"

Only then did Shen Qingqiu notice a humanoid figure collapsed in the corner—the fake old woman from before.

He glanced back at Luo Binghe and saw the latter's sleeve seemed to have been severed by a sword energy, revealing a portion of his wrist. Luo Binghe's skin was very fair, making the few crimson spots on his wrist especially glaring.

He blurted out without thinking, "You've been infected?"

Luo Binghe looked at him and shook his head earnestly. "It's nothing. As long as everyone is safe."

So selfless and considerate. For a fleeting moment, Shen Qingqiu almost believed the person before him was still that little lamb who used to nestle by his knee, bleating softly and nibbling on grass.

Unfortunately, the Huan Hua Palace disciples were excellent at dousing such illusions. One of them sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "Young Master Luo has contracted this plague. Senior Shen must be overjoyed, right?"

...Shen Qingqiu began seriously pondering when and where he had offended the entire Huan Hua Palace.

Gongyi Xiao, glancing at Shen Qingqiu's expression, looked deeply embarrassed. He turned and snapped, "All of you, shut your mouths!"

Shen Qingqiu's face remained impassive. As a senior renowned for years, it was beneath him to bicker with youths brainwashed by the protagonist. He merely lowered his hand, letting his sleeve naturally cover the back of it, where red spots had appeared after touching the fake old woman.

The disciple who had spoken—the one with pockmarks covering half his face—subsided resentfully under the reprimand, still visibly unconvinced. Qin Wanyue said mournfully, "It's all our fault. If not for protecting us, Young Master Luo, you wouldn't have..."

Shen Qingqiu had already formed a rough guess about what was spreading in the city. He really wanted to grab a megaphone and shout in her ear: Wake up, girl! That's no plague!

Shen Qingqiu would stake his youth spent chasing over twenty million words of serialized fiction and all associated frustration on this: First! For Luo Binghe, this half-demon hybrid, this thing was probably as harmless as saline solution or glucose!

Second! If Luo Binghe was ever held back by others or injured saving someone, without a doubt, it was absolutely intentional! Didn't they know the fastest way to boost one's righteous image and favorability points?

Shen Qingqiu could no longer bear the atmosphere of tragic despair on the Huan Hua Palace side. Of course, what he found even more unbearable was standing there silently locking eyes with Luo Binghe, as if both were waiting for the other to speak first.

Gritting his teeth, he decided to focus on the task at hand. Keeping his gaze fixed forward, he walked to the corpse of the fake old woman, drew Xiuyu Sword, and with a few swift cuts, shredded the black cloth to reveal the body beneath.

Just as he thought.

This "person" appeared ordinary in features, gender indistinguishable. But that wasn't the point.

The horrifying point was its skin—a uniform, lurid crimson, as if it had been boiled in scalding water right through to the core, yet the body remained intact, not cooked to mush.

"It's a Seed-Sower," Shen Qingqiu stated.

Seed-Sowers were a profession among the demon race. Generally, Shen Qingqiu understood them as the farmers, plantation owners, or wholesale feed suppliers of the demon realm.

Due to geographical and racial reasons, many creatures of the demon realm, including some demons with rather... acquired tastes, had peculiar physiological needs. Specifically, they enjoyed eating rotten things. The more putrid, the better. Maggot-infested delicacies were considered supreme, rich in nutrients.

But where did all that rotten matter come from?

This was the purpose of Seed-Sowers.

Any non-demon* being they approached or touched would develop symptoms of bodily decay within a short period. A certain practice once became popular in the demon realm's plantation-style feasts: a plantation owner would capture hundreds of living humans from the human realm, pen them up like livestock, and release Seed-Sowers among them. Within seven days, when the rotting was sufficiently advanced, the gates would be opened. One could either let the "produce" out to eat, or walk in and dine inside.

This bizarre dietary habit was utterly revolting. Fortunately, the ancient Heavenly Demon lineage, belonging to the most elegant and traditional branch of demonkind—equivalent to the ancient nobility of the demon realm—had standards in all aspects far beyond ordinary demon citizens and had no part in such grotesque tastes. Otherwise, no matter how handsome or overpowered Luo Binghe was, he probably couldn't have overcome such a physiologically and psychologically unacceptable setting. Just imagine how heart-wrenching it would be for any girl kissing him! Ha!

Because this profession was excessively inhumane, it provoked towering fury among human cultivators of the past, who launched extermination campaigns against Seed-Sowers. Many unsung heroes even risked corruption to perish together with them. Within a decade, Seed-Sowers were nearly eradicated, becoming rare even in the demon realm. It was normal for ordinary cultivators to have never heard of them. Shen Qingqiu, having nothing better to do, had read all sorts of ancient, miscellaneous texts on Qing Jing Peak as if they were tales of the strange and supernatural, so he was well aware.

He’d made a solid, constructive judgment. Unfortunately, it went entirely ignored. Only Qin Wanyue responded with polite courtesy. “Senior, what you described… Young Master Luo already deduced it. He explained everything about the Sowers to us just moments ago.” As she spoke, she and the surrounding Huan Hua Palace disciples all turned their gazes toward Luo Binghe, their eyes brimming with admiration and reverence, as if his face were literally radiating holy light.

It’s here! Is this the legendary “Intellect Aura”—where no matter what the male lead says, everyone else feels utterly crushed by the sheer weight of his wisdom and experience?!

Luo Binghe looked at Shen Qingqiu, his voice soft. “Everything I know… I learned from my Shizun.”

…The terrifying part was, Shen Qingqiu really did feel like Luo Binghe’s face was surrounded by a gentle, saintly glow!

Damn it. Has the day finally come when a villain isn’t even allowed to show off a little, when all the glory is reserved for the protagonist alone? [A manual wave goodbye]

Shen Qingqiu could no longer bear to waste his life in this bizarre atmosphere. Logically, since the Sower had been killed by Huan Hua Palace, the right to handle the corpse was theirs. “In that case,” he said, “may I borrow the body for examination? Junior Brother Mu may be able to discover something, which could help develop a method to resist the infection sooner.”

Luo Binghe nodded. “As Shizun wishes. This disciple will deliver the remains shortly.”

Each “Shizun” that left Luo Binghe’s lips made Shen Qingqiu’s hair stand on end. He finally understood, deeply and painfully, the feeling of facing someone like Luo Binghe—a smiling knife hidden in a silk sheath. Because you simply never knew what he was actually thinking!

He turned, flicked his sleeve, and left without another word. Once outside the abandoned building, Shen Qingqiu was still reeling from the psychological blow, walking unsteadily as if the ground itself had tilted. Gongyi Xiao caught up, took in Shen Qingqiu’s pale, dazed expression, and spoke anxiously. “Senior Shen, I am truly sorry. I actually knew all along, but my Master gave strict orders. Young Master Luo’s presence at Huan Hua Palace was to be kept absolutely secret, not a word to anyone outside. Violators would be expelled. I didn’t dare tell you the truth.”

Shen Qingqiu asked, “Just tell me this: how did he end up with you?”

“It was Junior Sister Qin,” Gongyi Xiao explained. “Last year, she rescued Young Master Luo from the banks of the Luo River. He was gravely injured and unconscious.”

Last year. To have dislodged Gongyi Xiao from his position as the favored senior disciple in just one short year… It seemed Luo Binghe’s infiltration of Huan Hua Palace wasn’t just ahead of the original timeline—his efficiency had improved as well. And it confirmed it: Gongyi Xiao was truly destined to be the cannon fodder constantly knocked off his perch by the male lead!

“Since you saved him,” Shen Qingqiu pressed, “why didn’t he return to Cang Qiong Mountain?”

Gongyi Xiao watched Shen Qingqiu’s expression carefully, choosing his words. “After he recovered and awoke… Young Master Luo seemed unwilling to speak of the past. When he bid farewell, he mentioned… he would not be returning to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. He asked Huan Hua Palace to keep his whereabouts confidential, as if he intended to wander the world alone. My Master took a great liking to him and urged him to stay. Though they don’t use the titles of master and disciple, in every treatment, he is no different from a true personal disciple.”

So that was it.

Luo Binghe’s behavior was the textbook image of a delicate, white lotus—enduring great suffering in silence. People would naturally wonder: if everything was fine, why wouldn’t he go back? Perhaps Cang Qiong Mountain Sect—and especially Shen Qingqiu—had wronged him. The mistaken report of his death during the Immortal Alliance Conference surely hid some unspeakable secret.

No wonder the Huan Hua Palace disciples had been so hostile toward him earlier. Luo Binghe’s brainwashing skills were no joke. Just look at how they’d all unquestioningly followed his lead. It was clear what his status within the palace was now.

A disciple from Sect A visits Sect B, and suddenly everyone from the leadership down to the lowest ranks is crying and begging him to stay, hiding him from the outside world—how utterly unscientific and irrational! Yet under the glow of the protagonist’s halo, it all made perfect sense!

Shen Qingqiu fell silent. Gongyi Xiao, mistaking his silence for heartache and disappointment that his beloved disciple would rather drift abroad than return to him, said gently, “Senior Shen, please don’t take it too hard. Young Master Luo may simply have some unresolved conflict in his heart. Previously, he never left Huan Hua Palace grounds, yet this time he volunteered to come here. That shows a change may already be underway. However… my junior brothers and sisters… ahem, they have some misunderstandings regarding this matter. I hope you won’t hold it against them.”

Shen Qingqiu’s heart felt blocked by a giant dam.

Years of painstaking effort to build a positive reputation—and it still couldn’t withstand the male lead deciding to smear it, and smearing it so beautifully.

Wait! Actually, this wasn’t even a smear campaign. Because he wasn’t the least bit wronged. He really had kicked the guy into the Endless Abyss!

He couldn’t even find a reason to defend or explain himself!

“And you?” Shen Qingqiu asked. “Why don’t you misunderstand?”

Gongyi Xiao paused, then said immediately, “Though I don’t know what truly happened at the Immortal Alliance Conference… I believe Senior would never be someone who would harm his own disciple.”

Alright, let me tell you why… It’s because you and I are both cannon fodder standing on the opposite side of the male lead, so we understand and sympathize with each other’s plight.

The rest of the Huan Hua Palace group caught up behind them. Shen Qingqiu glanced back unconsciously and saw Luo Binghe watching them. He stood with arms crossed, a cold observer.

Seeing him now made Shen Qingqiu feel like his heart had grown fragile—often tossed like a tiny boat in stormy, terrifying seas. Like right now. Even though Luo Binghe wasn’t close, and even though he maintained a perfectly proper smile, those dark eyes of his were icy and piercing, cutting through the distance. Shen Qingqiu felt a sudden chill.

Bro! Sir! What’s your problem now?! Is it a crime for two cannon fodder to talk and huddle together for a bit of mutual warmth?!

They had just reached the entrance of the Golden Character Armory when a cacophony of shouts erupted from inside, loud enough to lift the roof. This was all Liu Qingge’s doing. Tasked with manual labor, he’d gone out after they split up to capture test subjects for Mu Qingfang. The city was in a panic; no one was willing to cooperate. At this point, there was no choice but to use force. Besides, Liu Qingge was not a patient man who enjoyed reasoned debate. His style perfectly matched Bai Zhan Peak’s tradition: he’d gone out, grabbed a dozen burly men in one sweep, and tied them up beside the forging platform in the main hall. That area had now become Mu Qingfang’s research lab and operating table. The shouts, curses, and wails from this group of grown men were no less piercing than a crowd of women.

Shen Qingqiu went down to the underground storage and explained the series of events to the others. He temporarily kept quiet about his own infection.

Venerable Monk Wuchen chanted another “Amitabha.” “Thanks to the Fellow Daoists of Cang Qiong Mountain, we have finally made progress.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Shen Qingqiu said. “The infected cannot transmit the condition to each other. And according to ancient texts from Qing Jing Peak, the largest recorded seeding by a single Sower was only a little over three hundred people. For an infection range covering an entire city of this size… there must be more than one Sower.”

Liu Qingge’s hand went to his sword hilt. He stood up. Shen Qingqiu knew he was a man of action—ready to leave the moment a plan was formed. He was about to head out to hunt for the other Sowers. “Wait!” Shen Qingqiu hurriedly said. “There’s one more thing I need to say.”

Mu Qingfang asked, “What is it, Senior Brother?”

Shen Qingqiu hesitated, unsure how to begin. After a moment, he said, “Luo Binghe is back.”

The reactions from the three were muted. Of course, Venerable Monk Wuchen was from Zhao Hua Temple and didn’t know who Luo Binghe was. Mu Qingfang rarely concerned himself with anything outside medicine and pharmacology. Only Liu Qingge frowned, asking in surprise, “Your disciple? Didn’t he die at the hands of a demon during the Immortal Alliance Conference?”

Shen Qingqiu found it even harder to explain. “…He didn’t die. He’s back. Alive. Ugh.” He said in frustration, “You and I should go patrol the city first. We can discuss this in detail later.”

Mu Qingfang nodded. “That’s best. The sooner we deal with the remaining Sowers, the fewer lives will be lost. I should also go check on the patients.”

His words reminded Shen Qingqiu of Mu Qingfang’s ever-present set of surgical tools—gleaming silver knives and needles laid out in a row, resembling a coroner’s autopsy scene. Not to mention the countless bottles and jars from his infinite storage space, each with different labels. The words and descriptions on those labels were as terrifying as the smells and effects of their contents, enough to make anyone pale. Those big men tied up by the forging platform were probably going to literally bring the roof down soon.

Shen Qingqiu gave a dry laugh and was about to follow Liu Qingge out of the cellar when, suddenly and without warning, the sound of his own heartbeat seemed to magnify a hundredfold. His movements faltered for a split second.

Liu Qingge noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t answer. He tried to summon a burst of spiritual power with his right hand, but only a weak, flickering stream of energy sputtered from his fingertips, not even sparking.

You’ve got to be kidding me! It acts up now, of all times?!

Mu Qingfang murmured, “‘Without Cure.’”

Liu Qingge pressed his fingers to Shen Qingqiu’s wrist. After a pause, he decisively pushed him back down. “Sit. Wait.”

Wait for what?! Wait for Luo Binghe to show up?! Shen Qingqiu shot to his feet. “I’m coming with you.”

“Don’t get in the way.”

Big guy, you’re the master of Bai Zhan Peak, a one-man army! How could taking me along possibly be ‘in the way’?!

Mu Qingfang asked, “Senior Brother Shen, did you take your medicine today?”

Shen Qingqiu truly wanted to scream at the sky: “I HAVE NOT GIVEN UP ON TREATMENT!!!”

I took my medicine on time this month!" he wanted to scream. "I even had Brother Liu help me circulate my energy and clear my meridians regularly! Why in the world would it flare up now, out of nowhere? This is a bolt from the blue—it makes no sense!"

Right then, as if to add insult to injury, the system's notification chimed in his head: 【Protagonist Satisfaction +100】

Get lost!

Are you saying, "When Shen Qingqiu suffers, the male lead is happy"?!

How dare you be so vague! If you have any guts, System, explain clearly why you're suddenly adding points!

Mu Qingfang spoke again, his tone gentle but firm. "Senior Brother Shen, you mustn't force yourself. Senior Brother Liu is thinking of your well-being. Exerting yourself and circulating energy during a flare-up can cause severe damage. Rest here and recover. I'll go prepare more medicine. Once Senior Brother Liu returns, he can help you clear your meridians again."

Shen Qingqiu tried to stand up three times. Each time, Liu Qingge pushed him firmly back down. Mu Qingfang’s tone was starting to sound like he was lecturing a stubborn child. With no other choice, Shen Qingqiu relented. "Fine. But listen, Junior Brother Liu," he said, his voice turning serious. "The Sowers have skin the color of fresh blood. Their infection is highly contagious. If you encounter a suspicious target that looks similar, don't approach recklessly. Attack from a distance. And when you come back," he emphasized each word, "you must come to my room. There's something very important I need to discuss with you."

That last part was crucial. He had to make sure Liu Qingge understood.

I've nurtured this relationship for a thousand days to use it in this one moment! Big Bro Liu, you absolutely have to have my back!

After Liu Qingge and Mu Qingfang left the cellar, Venerable Monk Wuchen fell into deep thought. "Immortal Master Shen," he said slowly, "does this not strike you as strange? The demon realm has lain dormant for so long, yet in recent years, there seems to be a resurgence. During the last Immortal Alliance Conference, many rare demonic creatures reappeared in the world. And now, Jinlan City is plagued by Sowers, a breed thought extinct for a century. This humble monk fears… this may not be a good omen."

You have no idea, Shen Qingqiu thought. And these Sowers are clearly an upgraded version. The original Sowers definitely didn't have rules about how far the infected could wander from them. He shared the monk's concern. "What you fear, Master, is also what troubles me."

Yeah. Luo Binghe was supposed to stay in the Endless Abyss for two more years, yet he's been released early. How the hell could that be a good omen!

After his infection, Venerable Monk Wuchen's cultivation base was severely damaged, and his energy was greatly depleted. He grew weary after only a short while of conversation. Shen Qingqiu helped him lie down to rest and slipped out of the cellar as quietly as possible.

The monk was hidden in the cellar because he couldn't bear light or wind, but Shen Qingqiu's room was on the second floor of the armory's inner hall. Liu Qingge hadn't returned yet, and sleep was impossible. So he just sat at the table, staring into space.

One moment, he was remembering the little lamb Luo Binghe who used to follow him around all day, calling him "Shizun." The next, he was thinking of the black-hearted lotus from earlier—distant, layered with secrets, and making his skin crawl. He felt like pulling out his own hair in frustration.

He had been sitting there, lost in thought, when two knocks sounded at the door. Not too light, not too heavy.

Shen Qingqiu shot up from his chair. "Junior Brother Liu? I've been waiting for you all night! Come in!"

The door suddenly flew open, both halves swinging inward violently.

Luo Binghe stood in the doorway, his back to the boundless darkness outside. His hands were clasped behind him, the corners of his lips curved in a slight smile, but his eyes were like a thousand-foot-deep frozen pool.

He narrowed his eyes, the curve of his smile deepening.

"Shizun," he said, his voice a soft, pleasant ripple. "Hello.