Chapter 44

The Borderlands.

A bitter night wind howled through the sparse buildings of the small town.

On the entire street, only a single, small tea house emitted a warm, yellow glow, offering the sole hint of life.

These so-called Borderlands weren't the frontiers between nations or cities, but the ragged seams between the demon realm and the human world.

The two races belonged to separate realms, originally divided by the endless, space-rending Abyss. Yet, there were always places where the dimensional barriers grew thin, where time and space frayed. Here, residents from both sides often bled through, and malicious, illicit crossings were a common occurrence.

No sane person wanted to live where demons could appear and vanish like ghosts, pilfering chickens one day and committing murder and arson the next. Thus, the population of the Borderlands dwindled. Even once-prosperous cities, once the boundaries between worlds blurred, would eventually see a great exodus. Only the disciples dispatched by the cultivation sects remained to guard these lonely outposts.

Lu Six poured a bowl of warmed wine for the newcomer, then settled back with the others around the stove. "Where'd you come from, brother?"

"From the south."

"Ah, that place?" The men exchanged glances, expressions turning grim. "Times are rough there now, I hear."

The newcomer cradled the bowl, his face etched with worry. "You have no idea. Fighting breaks out every other day. No one can endure that kind of constant turmoil."

A voice piped up from a shadowed corner. "Cang Qiong Mountain Sect and Huan Hua Palace are both among the Four Great Sects. How have their disputes gotten so vicious these past years? Their disciples clash on sight. Can't their Sect Leaders rein them in?"

Lu Six snorted. "How long have you been stuck in this godforsaken hole, not paying attention to the world? It's because the Sect Leaders allow it that the disciples fight with such ferocity!"

"Why would they do that? Tell us, Brother Six."

Lu Six cleared his throat. "It's a tangled tale. Do you know who leads Huan Hua Palace now?"

"Some upstart kid, I heard."

A cold laugh escaped Lu Six. "If Luo Binghe can be called an 'upstart,' then you and I have wasted our lives. That man is anything but simple. He hails from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, the head disciple of Shen Qingqiu from Qing Jing Peak. Topped the rankings at the last Immortal Alliance Conference—utterly brilliant."

Another man frowned. "If he's from Cang Qiong Mountain, how did he end up leading Huan Hua Palace?"

"After the Conference, Luo Binghe vanished for three years. No one knew where he went or what he did. Shen Qingqiu declared him dead, and everyone believed it. Then, three years later, he returned with a vengeance, a pivotal figure in Huan Hua Palace. He cornered Shen Qingqiu in Jinlan City and forced the man to... detonate his own core."

The newcomer shook his head. "That's the part I've never understood. Was Shen Qingqiu wrongfully accused, or did he deserve it?"

"To this day, no one knows for sure," Lu Six said. "Cang Qiong Mountain presents a united front. Mention it, and they'll attack. That's just their way. They won't even let people discuss the confirmed defection of Shang Qinghua from An Ding Peak to the demon realm. After Jinlan City, Huan Hua Palace changed hands soon after. The old Palace Master retreated into seclusion, vanished without a trace. Luo Binghe seized power. Mention the past, and he'll kill you."

Someone muttered, "All this over a dead man."

"That dead man stirred up quite the storm," Lu Six countered. "Shen Qingqiu was a member of Cang Qiong Mountain, one of the twelve Peak Lords. His remains should have been returned to Qing Jing Peak to rest with his predecessors. The problem is... Luo Binghe refuses to surrender the body."

The men imagined desecration, exposure—ghoulish scenes. A shudder ran through them. "He won't give it back? Wouldn't Cang Qiong Mountain just take it by force? The Lord of Bai Zhan Peak is still around."

Lu Six spread his hands. "They can't win."

"What?!" The collective worldview in the room shattered. In their minds, Bai Zhan Peak's lord was an undefeatable war god. This was unacceptable.

"You really didn't know?" Lu Six said. "Since Jinlan City, Liu Qingge of Bai Zhan Peak has faced Luo Binghe countless times. Not a single victory. And that's not all. After Luo Binghe took Shen Qingqiu's body to Huan Hua Palace, within days, he personally intercepted Mu Qingfang from Qian Cao Peak."

"Qian Cao Peak stays out of worldly affairs, heals the sick and wounded," another man protested. "How did they offend that calamity?"

"Luo Binghe dragged him to Huan Hua Palace," Lu Six explained, his tone turning somber. "Ordered him to revive Shen Qingqiu." He sighed. "The body was cold and stiff. Revive what?"

The newcomer ventured another question. "When the two sides fight, I've heard Cang Qiong Mountain's disciples call Huan Hua Palace 'the demon race's lapdogs.' What's that about?"

"Because, for reasons unknown, the entire Cang Qiong Mountain Sect insists Luo Binghe has demonic blood," Lu Six said. "However, several abbots from Zhao Hua Temple personally examined him and confirmed his spiritual energy circulation is normal. Cang Qiong Mountain keeps up the accusation regardless... This back-and-forth, grievance breeding grievance, has deepened the rift between the sects. I tell you, one day that whole ship is going to capsize, and no one will be left alive. So," he added, seeking a sliver of comfort, "being assigned to guard a remote border like this, peaceful and quiet, isn't such a bad deal."

The man in the corner rubbed his temples. "I'm completely lost. What exactly is the story with that master and disciple, and these two sects?"

"Undying hatred is one explanation," Lu Six began, leaning in, eager to gossip further. "But there's another—"

Knock. Knock.

The sound from the door snapped the room to attention. All languor vanished. Hands flew to weapon hilts and talismans.

The Borderlands were desolate, sparsely populated. Their squad was the only permanent garrison in this town. Patrols wouldn't be back this soon, and the few remaining residents wouldn't dare wander out at this hour.

No one in the room answered. After a long moment, the wooden door sounded again.

Knock. Knock.

"Who's there?!" Lu Six barked.

A sudden, icy gust swept through the room, snuffing the oil lamp and candles on the table. Darkness swallowed the space, leaving only the dim, red glow of the stove's embers.

A man's silhouette, a sword strapped to his back, appeared on the paper window. A clear, familiar voice called out, "Brother Six, it's me! It's freezing tonight, so I came back early. Open up and let me in for a drink to warm up!"

The others exhaled in relief, cursing. "Damn you, Old Qin! Knocking without a word, you scared us half to death! We thought a ghost got you!"

A low chuckle came from outside. Something felt off to Lu Six, a discordant note he couldn't place. "Get in here!" he called, pulling the door open.

A blast of cold wind rushed in.

The doorway was empty.

Lu Six slammed the door shut, his voice dropping. "Lights. Now."

The newcomer's hands trembled slightly as he turned and formed a fire sigil. A shaky flame illuminated several shadowy figures. Before he could light a candle, he turned back, stammering. "Brother Six... I... I have a question."

"Spit it out!" Lu Six snapped.

"Originally... there were only six of us in this room, right?"

"So why does it look like... there are seven now?"

Dead silence.

Then, a furious roar. Someone moved first. Screams and the clash of steel erupted, chaotic and dissonant. "Lights! Get the lights up!" Lu Six bellowed. The others hastily conjured fire sigils, but their movements were frantic. Flames danced wildly, casting mad, leaping shadows that dazzled the eyes and made it impossible to tell friend from foe. Hesitant to strike their comrades, they held back, allowing the thing that had slithered inside to wreak havoc—a claw here, a blade there. Frustration boiled in Lu Six when an iron grip suddenly closed around his throat.

His eyes rolled back. His feet left the floor. He couldn't see what held him. As darkness began to claim him, the main door exploded inward, torn from its hinges by a hurricane-force gale.

A figure stormed inside.

Lu Six didn't see any punches or kicks. A strange, shrill shriek—from the thing choking him—pierced his ear, and the pressure on his throat vanished.

The six men in the room were shaken, some already collapsed on the floor. The stranger snapped his fingers. Every oil lamp in the house flared to life simultaneously.

He crouched, examining the scene for a moment, then stood. "They're fine. Just unconscious."

The man was covered in black mud, as if freshly dug from a grave. A wild, thick beard obscured most of his face. Though his frame was lean, the facial hair gave him the appearance of a burly, unkempt brigand. Lu Six stared at him for a long moment before finally clasping his fists in salute. "We owe you our thanks, sir!"

The stranger clapped a hand on Lu Six's shoulder. "I have a question."

"Please, ask."

"What year is it?"

---

When Shen Qingqiu, caked in mud, tumbled and rolled down the mountainside, he wanted to curse "Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky" ten thousand times over. He didn't care if it was for exploding his spirit or for... other creative punishments.

His initial plan had involved faking his death.

But what was the point of a fake death?

Using a puppet as a decoy, a golden cicada shedding its skin—even TV dramas were tired of that trope.

So, he chose the real thing.

That day, he had genuinely self-destructed. In the process, he'd drawn the majority of the rampaging demonic energy from Luo Binghe's body into his own. His spiritual veins weren't just shattered; they were pulverized.

Only by facing true death could one hope for rebirth.

The Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom was called the "Flesh Mushroom" for a literal reason. While useless for cultivation, it was a product of heaven, earth, and the essence of the sun and moon. If you nurtured a seedling in land rich with spiritual energy, guided its growth, carefully shaped it, and nourished it with blood... upon maturity, it could grow into a living vessel. A body could be cultivated, but a soul could not be created this way. The result was an empty shell, devoid of consciousness—a perfect container.

"Plant a little Shen in spring, reap a big Shen in autumn" was no longer just a fantasy!

The Luhua Mushroom was no common cabbage that could be grown with a bit of manure. Shen Qingqiu had wasted several young sprouts of the flesh-mushroom before finally cultivating one that didn't grow crooked.

He and Shang Qinghua had calculated the coordinates of various locations long in advance, preparing for remote operation. Beneath the tallest structure in Huayue City, they laid a teleportation array. At the zenith of daylight, Shang Qinghua would establish a propulsion array on Cang Qiong Mountain. The moment Shen Qingqiu's soul left his body, it would be transmitted directly into the mature Luhua Mushroom they had buried deep within the border mountains.

Three locations, three arrays. Connected in a straight line, they formed the most stable equilateral triangle cycle—absolutely stable, absolutely reliable.

The only flaw lay with a certain individual.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, you truly are too reliable.

While there were none of the errors Shen Qingqiu had feared—like "missing an arm or leg" or "a critical body part being cut short"—the Luhua Mushroom, force-grown with what he could only think of as chemical fertilizer, indeed had side effects.

Upon first awakening, Shen Qingqiu lay still for a while, listening. He did not hear the hateful, robotic prompt of that Google-Translate-esque voice.

Wild joy surged in his heart: The System didn't show up! Hahaha, the System didn't show up! I changed my hardware and didn't install your virus software! Hahaha! Though it was only a temporary relief, he couldn't help but want to dance with joy… dance with joy, his foot.

His entire body was still buried in the earth, utterly immobile!

Buried for a full day, he focused his strength from his fingertips until he could finally control his limbs, then shakily crawled out.

The moment he broke through the soil, before he could even revel in the fresh, free air, he toppled over face-first. Ah, his body wasn't obeying again. He just… toppled over.

For an entire day, he walked while performing what felt like calisthenics, and only by nightfall did Shen Qingqiu's movements and posture begin to resemble those of a normal person. At least he wasn't moving his same-side arm and leg together anymore.

The template for this human form was the appearance of his previous life, Shen Yuan. It lacked the transcendent, immortal air of Shen Qingqiu, but it was still a decent vessel—just with a hint of the pampered, idle decadence of a pretty boy. However, because part of his blood and bone had been used to nourish the Luhua Mushroom, there was bound to be some influence. Shen Qingqiu rolled to a stream, used a sharp mountain rock to shave, and took a look. This face was still about eighty percent similar to Shen Qingqiu's. Wordlessly, he picked up the beard and stuck it back on.

After finally managing to roll down the mountain, he grabbed a passerby to ask—Holy shit, five years had already passed?!

He could understand the body's initial lack of coordination or occasional paralysis as a necessary adjustment period. But being buried for five years before waking up? What was that about?!

Alright, gripes aside, Shen Qingqiu was relatively satisfied with his current condition. This body… it was simply bursting with spiritual power!

His original body, without the occasional interference of the Incurable poison, had also been considered spiritually abundant. But compared to this feeling now, it was like the difference between two bars of battery (enough to get by) and a full charge (freshly unplugged). Or, to put it directly, he himself felt like a generator! It was even more formidable than a complete transformation, more profound than a rebirth or spiritual cleansing.

Was this the rhythm of him getting his own cheat codes?!

Shen Qingqiu felt he had regained a shred of the dignity befitting a reincarnator!

Lu Liu said, "For a border guardian to require your rescue is truly shameful. That thing just now…"

After hearing his account, Shen Qingqiu replied, "That creature likely did not come from the demon realm. Its ability to mimic the form and voice of a familiar person, and its inability to enter a dwelling without the owner's invitation… it seems to be the 'Uninvited Guest' from the ghost realm. With the two realms now connected, it's not surprising for such beings to pour in through the breaches at the border."

That he could casually identify such an obscure ghostly creature earned him a measure of quiet admiration, mixed with curiosity about how this man had suddenly appeared in the borderlands. Lu Liu continued, "In recent years, demonic invasions have grown increasingly severe. Other malevolent beings have begun flooding into the human world alongside them. A great conflict is likely imminent… Ah, I have yet to ask for your esteemed immortal title?"

The phrase "Hehe, this humble one is none other than the Peak Lord of Qing Jing Peak of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, wielder of the Xiuya Sword, Shen Qingqiu" took a sharp U-turn before it could reach his throat. Close call, close call. He had almost blurted out his old identity. Unable to think of another title on the spot, he pondered for a moment before steadily uttering four words: "Peerless Cucumber."

It was decided. The past was smoke. From now on, when wandering the martial world, he would use this ID that had dominated the book review forums for years.

With that, Shen Qingqiu drifted away, leaving behind a room full of people petrified in the wind.

After a long pause, a newcomer murmured, "What did he just say he was… Peerless… what?"

Lu Liu ventured a guess, "Peerless… Yellow Flower?"

"Wasn't it Peerless Crown?"

"No, no, I think it was Peerless Mad Flower!"

Shen Qingqiu, now several dozen feet away, nearly slipped on his own feet.

Alright then… I'd better think of another title later…