Chapter 60

From behind the gnarled, thick trunk of an ancient tree, two figures emerged.

To be precise, only one walked out; the other was pushed forward on a small, wheeled contraption resembling a sedan chair.

The standing figure was a woman of slender waist and alluring curves, strikingly beautiful. The one seated, though wrapped from the neck down in a coarse woolen blanket, revealed a face all too familiar to Shen Qingqiu.

The sword was still advancing, forcing Shen Qingqiu to grip it tighter, the edge nearly slicing through half his palm.

His expression remained fixed, a false smile plastered on his lips. "Young Lady Qiu. Venerable Palace Master. It has been a while."

Qiu Haitang's gaze burned with resentment. The old palace master's head shifted slightly, his voice a hoarse rasp. "Does Peak Lord Shen truly believe I am 'well'?"

It was merely a formality. Shen Qingqiu gave a dry chuckle.

Upon closer inspection, he realized the word "well" was utterly unsuitable here. The former palace master had been a figure who had attained immortal grace—whether at their first meeting during the Immortal Alliance Conference or their unpleasant parting in Jinlan City, his demeanor had never faltered. Now, however, his once meticulously groomed snow-white beard was matted with grime, his face aged considerably, wrinkles gathering more densely than the bark of the withered tree behind him.

The old master's voice turned icy. "You must wonder how I came to be like this."

Shen Qingqiu thought, Can I say I don't wonder and you'll just let me pass? Instead, he said aloud, "This humble one heard the Venerable Palace Master had retired to wander the world in seclusion."

The old master let out a grating laugh. "Retired to wander? To understand what truly happened, you need only ask your precious disciple."

Though unclear on the specifics, it seemed this was about settling a score with Luo Binghe.

Shen Qingqiu's expression didn't flicker. He shifted subtly, tucking Luo Binghe more securely behind him, shielding him completely.

Qiu Haitang spat venomously, "Shen Jiu, I told you long ago I'd recognize you even if you were turned to ash. I knew your self-destruction in Huayue City was a trick! Taking your own life to atone? Ha! Since when were you that sort of man? In that demoness's territory, I saw through you at a glance. You truly aren't dead!"

You recognized only my shell, not my soul. What use is that? Shen Qingqiu sighed inwardly.

Back at Sha Hualing's Chiyun Cave, when he'd been captured and later rescued the cultivators, their brief encounter had been enough to arouse her suspicion. After he returned to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect and was taken by Luo Binghe, Qiu Haitang had also crossed the borderlands, following them all the way into the demon realm. Luo Binghe, preoccupied with capturing Black Moon Python-Rhinoceroses to break the Sacred Mausoleum's barrier, had been distracted and unsettled, failing to notice someone sneaking in behind him. Conclusion: a woman's hatred was not to be underestimated.

He had never imagined these two would join forces, nor did he know when they had connected.

The thought sparked a realization. "Young Lady Qiu's sudden appearance in Jinlan City back then—did the Venerable Palace Master have a hand in that as well?"

Since Zhuzhi-lang had denied involvement, someone else must have been pulling strings. Otherwise, a minor sect like Qiu Haitang's would never have had the chance to be at the forefront.

The old master gave a cold, mocking laugh, neither confirming nor denying.

Tiny white fluffs, like dandelion seeds, drifted through the air, swaying past their vision. Shen Qingqiu said, "This Shen does not believe he has ever offended the Venerable Palace Master…"

"At this point, there is no need for concealment," the old master interrupted, his voice gravelly as if phlegm clogged his throat. "When Luo Binghe first entered Huan Hua Palace, I nurtured him with care, intending to raise him up. Yet he stubbornly refused to take me as his master, refused to marry my daughter, clinging instead to his obsession with you. Naturally, I had to investigate Peak Lord Shen thoroughly, to see what manner of person you truly were. Little did I expect to uncover quite a few old stories. I know your background inside out. Who you studied under, what you've done, how you actually entered Cang Qiong Mountain Sect—it's all quite fascinating. Even without the matter of the Seed-Spreader, you were destined for the water prison. Unexpected circumstances simply saved me the trouble."

So, the Huan Hua Palace disciples' strange hostility toward him back then hadn't been Luo Binghe's deliberate influence, but the old palace master's machinations.

Shen Qingqiu couldn't help glancing back at Luo Binghe.

If this child had just been a little more flexible, taken another as master, so much trouble could have been avoided. Yet he couldn't bring himself to resent that stubborn, single-minded devotion. He could only sigh. "My disciple was honored by your favor. However, the two sword strikes just now were clearly aimed at him. That seems… inconsistent."

"What was then is not what is now," the old master said flatly. "Peak Lord Shen, step aside. I have a final reckoning with this brat."

Shen Qingqiu asked, "If I step aside, will you only kill him and leave me be?"

Qiu Haitang sneered. "If he leaves you be, I am still here!"

Normally, her combat prowess was too low to matter, but in their current predicament, she posed a genuine complication.

"This beast repaid kindness with betrayal, reducing me to this state," the old master growled. "I will personally cut him down."

Shen Qingqiu countered, "If he truly betrayed you, he wouldn't have spared your daughter's life. 'When cutting weeds, remove the roots'—he understands that principle better than either of us."

He never imagined a day would come when he'd be speaking in Luo Binghe's defense.

The old master responded with a jagged, eerie laugh. Qiu Haitang suddenly yanked away the coarse blanket covering him. Shen Qingqiu's breath hitched.

Beneath the blanket lay a squared-off torso. All four limbs were gone.

The old palace master had been reduced to a human stump! A once-revered sect leader, now neither man nor ghost, filthy and huddled on a ramshackle cart, only his head able to turn. The sight was profoundly grotesque and horrifying.

The original Shen Qingqiu's fate had been transplanted onto the old palace master. This grudge ran deep—no amount of reasoning would resolve it.

The old master laughed coldly. "See now? He would have done better to remove the roots."

Shen Qingqiu strongly agreed. Why didn't you finish the job?!

These two small fish—one wanting to kill Luo Binghe, the other wanting to kill Shen Qingqiu. Qiu Haitang lacked strength and needed aid; the old master, though fallen, was far more powerful. A former sect leader, even limbless and immobile, had lost none of his spiritual power. A perfect match: the blind carrying the lame.

Shen Qingqiu snapped the sword blade with his bare hand and tossed it into the nearby grass, his gaze locked on the two hostile figures.

In truth, he could gamble.

While Luo Binghe's protagonist invincibility failed against Tianlang-jun—a character with no original data—the old palace master was still within the scope of the original work. The law of the protagonist's golden, unbreakable body should still hold against him.

He could try stepping aside, just as he had during the Shuanghu City incident with the Skinning Demon Butterfly, letting the old master strike Luo Binghe, and see who ultimately outmaneuvered whom.

The old master spoke slowly, "I ask once more. Will you step aside?"

Shen Qingqiu lowered his arm. The blood from his palm, which had begun to clot, started dripping again.

He lifted his head, his tone neither warm nor cold. "Does the Venerable Palace Master believe the disciples of Qing Jing Peak are easy to bully?"

There was no helping it. Things were different now from back then.

He simply couldn't convince himself to stand coldly aside, relying on the protagonist's plot armor, and let someone else cut Luo Binghe down, gambling on who would win.

At this point, if he could still use Luo Binghe with a clear conscience while taking such a huge risk, he truly would be a despicable scoundrel!

Suddenly, the old master's eyes bulged. He let out several explosive shouts.

Deprived of limbs, he channeled his spiritual power into his voice, using it as a weapon. Each shout sent a blade-like wave of spiritual energy crashing toward Shen Qingqiu, its force no less than a critical strike. Grass and trees whipped violently, leaves flying sideways. Shen Qingqiu blocked several waves with his still-bleeding right hand gripping his sword sheath. With each tremor, agony shot from the wound in his palm, but he dared not switch hands—if he didn't use his left arm to hold Luo Binghe, he feared he'd drop him!

Even reduced to a stump, the old master's spiritual power hadn't diminished in the slightest. No wonder Qiu Haitang relied on him. As this thought crossed his mind, the old master released a prolonged roar. A faint cracking sound came from the sheath of Xiuya Sword—it finally gave way.

A powerful force slammed into Shen Qingqiu, hurling him backward. As he fell, he twisted his body, using himself as a cushion so Luo Binghe wouldn't hit the ground, only to have the wind knocked out of him by the other's weight.

The old master finally ceased his roaring. Qiu Haitang slowly pushed him closer.

After catching his breath, he looked down at Shen Qingqiu cradling Luo Binghe. "You truly are protective of him."

Shen Qingqiu thought, If Luo Binghe were awake, I probably wouldn't be protecting him like this.

"Why not counter with spiritual power?" the old master asked. "Have you exhausted yourself to the dregs?"

Shen Qingqiu didn't answer. Wisps of fine white fluff drifted past, about to land on Luo Binghe's pale cheek. He blew gently, and the fluff veered away.

The old master took this as a sign of resigned acceptance. He shifted his gaze, fixing it on Luo Binghe's peacefully sleeping face.

His earlier roaring demeanor vanished as if wiped away, replaced by a strange, infatuated expression.

Shen Qingqiu: "..."

This expression... was very wrong.

The old master gazed infatuatedly for a long while, then sighed. "When he's asleep... he looks the most like him."

The old palace master's gaze crawled over Luo Binghe's face like something fuzzy and alive. If he still had hands, he would have been stroking it by now. A wave of nausea rose in Shen Qingqiu. Without thinking, he pulled Luo Binghe's head closer, tucking it protectively against his own chest. The position now had Luo Binghe curled tightly against him, his face buried.

"Look clearly," Shen Qingqiu's voice was low and hard. "This is not Su Xiyan."

The name seemed to snap the old man back. His expression twisted into viciousness. "If only he had been obedient! Power, status, the Illusory Flower Palace… what wouldn't I have given him? But one after another, they were all ungrateful. Ungrateful wretches!"

He raved the words 'ungrateful' dozens of times, spittle flying, before his face abruptly softened again. A sickly, dreamy hum escaped him. "Xiyan… come here… let your master… let me…"

Lost in his delusion, a line of drool trailed from the corner of his mouth. Qiu Haitang took a subtle step back, her face a mask of disgust.

Everything clicked into place for Shen Qingqiu, and the nausea intensified.

So that's why the old freak was always so strangely 'kind' to Luo Binghe. No wonder Su Xiyan, his so-called 'most beloved disciple', had abandoned the Illusory Flower Palace without a shred of hesitation, defecting from her master to elope with that demon youth.

This kind of 'beloved' was practically molestation. The old palace master saw Su Xiyan's shadow in Luo Binghe. His sick obsession had simply transferred, a warped desire to mold the boy into a compliant puppet.

But judging by this deranged display, 'successor' was far from his only goal. 'Obedience' carried a meaning far more vile.

No wonder Luo Binghe turned him into a human stick.

Shen Qingqiu covered the back of Luo Binghe's head with his hand, pressing the youth's face firmly into the side of his chest, shielding him from that lecherous stare. He'd had enough. "Stop it!"

Deprived of the sight, the old man's face collapsed. His features twitched spasmodically before settling into a mask of pure venom. His jaw unhinged, mouth gaping wide for another roar.

No sound came out. His eyes bulged. His entire body locked rigid, as if turned to stone.

Shen Qingqiu held his breath. A wet, gurgling noise bubbled in the old palace master's throat. The whites of his eyes flooded with crimson veins.

But he could not move.

Hahahahahaha!

Finally!

Did they really think he was some idiotic saint, just taking a beating without fighting back?

Did they think carrying an extra person made him too weak to slap their faces right off?!

Qiu Haitang stared, alarmed. "What's wrong?" Her hand moved toward her sword.

"Miss Qiu," Shen Qingqiu said, his tone flat. "A word of advice. Don't draw your sword. Don't recklessly use your spiritual power. Unless you want to end up just like him."

Confused, she stepped around to face the old palace master and let out a sharp scream.

Across the ancient man's wrinkled face, nestled within every crease, sprouted thick, greenish tendrils of flesh. He seemed to be in agony, paralyzed, robbed even of speech.

"What… what did you do?" Qiu Haitang stammered.

"I did nothing," Shen Qingqiu replied. "But have you forgotten? We are in someone else's tomb. Did you think the demon race would leave it undefended?"

The white fluff floating in the air, like scattered dandelion seeds, was actually a demonic plant called 'Love's Thread'.

It sowed its seeds in living flesh, and was particularly drawn to those who recklessly expended energy. Using spiritual or demonic power was like a beacon, pulling the seeds onto the body. That was why Shen Qingqiu had stubbornly relied on brute force earlier, avoiding his spiritual power.

Once 'Love's Thread' burrowed into flesh, it was painless at first, just a slight itch. Using the host's flesh and blood as soil, it would germinate. Breaking through the skin, every inch of growth meant tearing muscle and gouging blood. And the more spiritual power one used, the faster it grew. A powerful burst of energy could trigger instant, violent sprouting.

The old palace master had been attacking with sonic roars, concentrating his spiritual flow in his head and throat. Now, his face was a garden of those fleshy sprouts. Their stems pulsed like exposed veins, covered in a thin, fuzzy down. The roots were still tunneling deeper beneath the skin, weaving themselves inextricably around his nerves.

"Old Palace Master," Shen Qingqiu tutted with false sympathy. "You really shouldn't shout anymore. If these threads have a growth spurt and reach your brain… well, there'll be no saving you then."

The sight was both grotesque and terrifying. Qiu Haitang clapped a hand over her mouth, trembling violently, before her eyes rolled back and she crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

One immobilized. One out cold. Total victory.

Shen Qingqiu let out a long, shaky breath. Holding Luo Binghe tight, he struggled to his feet.

The old palace master's muscles were corded tight. He managed a garbled whisper, each word a struggle. "Don't… celebrate… too soon. You're… no better."

Just speaking twisted his face in agony, making the forest of sprouts on his cheeks tremble in unison.

Shen Qingqiu answered with a soft, humorless laugh.

A deep, hysterical pain was clawing its way up his right arm, digging into his shoulder.

When he'd first entered and blocked those two swords, he'd been forced to use his spiritual power. The price was now coming due.

Still… at least this time, he hadn't dragged Luo Binghe down with him.