Chapter 96: Unsolvable Heart Demon: Secret Meeting in the Forest

“Heart demon? This is indeed difficult.”

In the vast, empty hall, Fang Shi sat facing a middle-aged man dressed as a scholar.

“There must be some way to handle it; otherwise, a cultivator would carry a heart demon for life and never break through their realm.”

After seeking out experts in alchemy, Fang Shi found another cultivator reputed to be a master of mental cultivation.

This man was also at the Spiritual Sense realm, born into a scholarly clan, said to have served as an official before thirty and taken the Dao after thirty.

Another thirty years of cultivation brought him to the Spiritual Sense realm—he was gifted, and also a Golden Core seed.

The middle-aged man said: “It’s simple: cultivate your body and nurture your nature.”

“The rules of the heart demon were established by the Sage, and the Sage’s intent was never to cut off a cultivator’s path.”

“They were meant only to warn cultivators not to misuse their power for evil.”

“Thus, as long as you refrain from killing for a long time, the resentment of living beings clinging to you will fade, and the heart demon will not haunt you.”

Fang Shi frowned: “Heart demon resentment? How is it I haven’t sensed any?”

“That’s the Sage’s method—you naturally cannot perceive it.”

“I’ve always heard tales of the Sage—who exactly is the Sage?”

The middle-aged scholar didn’t mind Fang Shi’s status as a lone cultivator and answered patiently: “No one knows the Sage’s life story; only fragments of legends remain.”

“The era in which he lived is too ancient—far older than the Ancient Age.”

“And all memories of the Ancient Age were lost in war.”

“If not for the rules the Sage established, which still govern the world, everyone would doubt whether he ever existed.”

Fang Shi said again: “But this is unreasonable—I killed some infected to save humans, yet now I’m burdened with the resentment of living beings? What sin is that?”

The middle-aged scholar laughed: “Of course it is. Monsters are living beings too—even demons and yao are living beings.”

“Monsters have parents, demons have mothers and fathers—they’re all born of flesh and blood. Killing them isn’t a sin?”

“Besides, perhaps in the Sage’s eyes, there is no distinction between human, demon, spirit, or monster.”

“In the Ancient Age, all life mixed together; humans were merely one kind among countless others.”

“So the Sage established his rules according to the context of his time.”

Fang Shi fell silent. Ancient rules were truly deadly.

“Then is there no way to accelerate the process? Must I just wait it out?”

“Of course. The Sage’s rules are ironclad—you cannot escape them.”

“How long does it take to purge the sin of killing one infected?”

“It depends. When the day comes that you carry no sin, Heaven’s Dao will remind you.”

Discretion—he understood. It was just a matter of mood.

“Then is there truly no other way to deal with the heart demon? I have little time left—I simply cannot wait.”

The middle-aged scholar paused thoughtfully: “That’s true. Your situation is not uncommon among cultivators.”

“But there is truly no effective method—no array, incantation, or talisman can weaken a heart demon bound by the Sage’s rules.”

“And the heart demon’s strength equals your own—how strong you are, so strong is the heart demon.”

“Yet, conversely, it is said that cultivators who defeat their heart demons gain great benefits.”

“This is the one thread of hope the Sage left behind.”

“But such people are rare—I don’t know what those benefits are.”

Fang Shi thought of his increased Spiritual Sense value—defeating the heart demon truly did bring benefits.

Spiritual Sense was notoriously hard to cultivate—that was universally acknowledged.

A sudden increase of five points was unimaginable.

It was equivalent to years of arduous cultivation.

It seemed the Sage wasn’t rigid—he didn’t just punish, he also rewarded.

He granted special favors to those of exceptional talent.

It was precisely because of this boost in Spiritual Sense that Fang Shi now concealed his true cultivation base with ease.

Simply covering his body with Spiritual Sense was enough to mask his true level.

Other Spiritual Sense cultivators could judge a cultivator’s approximate strength by the intensity of Spiritual Sense radiating from their skin.

Fang Shi’s enhanced Spiritual Sense was now no weaker than that of other Spiritual Sense cultivators.

As long as he didn’t fight, no one could detect his true cultivation base.

Besides, even if he did fight,

how do you know that’s his full strength?

You can’t forbid someone from holding back.

Thus, Fang Shi used his identity as a Spiritual Sense elder to move freely through Long Yu Mountain.

Anything he wished to ask, others would grant him the courtesy of an answer.

Like the middle-aged scholar—if you were a Qi Refining cultivator, you wouldn’t even get to see his face.

Or like the former Zuo Yuan Sect—you wouldn’t dare disturb their work.

Let alone expect free Dao script teachings.

“Then, Dao Brother, may I ask you about Dao script?”

“Of course, of course. Let us exchange insights and enhance our cultivation.”

…

Long Yu, Zhang Cheng pulled Zhang Zihui’s hand and ran swiftly down the mountain into the forest.

“Zhang Cheng, why did you bring me here?”

Zhang Zihui felt a blush of shyness.

Earlier, Zhang Cheng had been assigned duties relocating civilians.

So when Zhang Zihui arrived at Long Yu Mountain, she hadn’t seen him at once.

Thus, upon his return today, Zhang Cheng had rushed to find her and invited her out.

Zhang Cheng smiled warmly: “Don’t you think this place is beautiful? I searched for half a day to find it.”

It was night, yet the forest of Long Yu Mountain was not dark.

The dark green leaves had turned translucent pale blue.

Tiny glimmers of light rose from the leaves, drifting in the air like a pale blue luminescence—like spirits dancing.

The chirping of insects and birds blended into a symphony, dreamlike and serene.

“What kind of tree is this?”

Zhang Zihui had never seen such beauty before.

She had stayed on Long Yu Mountain but never had the mood to wander its interior.

“It’s called the Heart-Remembering Tree. Its core can be used to forge communication talismans—that’s how it got its name.”

Zhang Cheng sighed with emotion.

Zhang Zihui grew even shyer: “You’ve been thinking of me all this time?”

“Of course!” Zhang Cheng suddenly embraced Zhang Zihui.

“I think of you every moment. I heard about your family’s fate immediately.”

“The first thing I thought of was your safety—I wanted to come, but my senior brothers stopped me.”

“They held me tightly, wouldn’t let me leave their side.”

“Said my cultivation was too low—that going there would be suicide.”

“But if you died, I’d be no different from dead.”

Zhang Zihui nestled in Zhang Cheng’s arms, tears falling drop by drop.

“Everyone’s dead, everyone’s dead—my whole family is gone. Only you remain.”

“So I came. The moment I heard you were alive, I dropped everything and rushed here.”

Zhang Cheng held her tighter, as if he never wanted to let go.

“Mm,” Zhang Zihui whispered, sorrowful and shy, her head buried deep in Zhang Cheng’s chest.

After a while of quiet warmth, once Zhang Zihui’s emotions steadied, Zhang Cheng asked again.

“By the way, who exactly is Fang Shi, the one who escorted you back?”

“Along the way, I heard he’s a newly arrived Spiritual Sense elder—and the man who burned down the village.”

“But isn’t he a long-lost member of your Zhang family? He knew nothing of cultivation—how did he become a Spiritual Sense cultivator?”

Zhang Zihui hesitated: “I don’t know. He says he’s a cultivator who wanders the world, and he was just fooling us before.”

Zhang Cheng was astonished: “But his acting was too convincing—he seemed exactly like a cultivator who accidentally awakened Immortal Bones.”

“He even asked me detailed questions about breaking limits—sounded nothing like a high-level elder.”

Zhang Zihui said: “That’s true, but one thing is strange—I saw him again, and his hair was completely silver.”

“He even claimed he used the limit-breaking method. Are there really cultivators who don’t care about their lifespan?”

Zhang Cheng said: “He’s lying to you. No cultivator ignores lifespan. He’s probably just pretending again.”

Zhang Zihui sighed: “Sigh… that’s probably the only possibility. If only he’d said he was a Zhang family member—our family now has no heir left, not even distant branches survive.”

Zhang Cheng chuckled: “But you’re still here—you can have a child.”

Zhang Zihui blushed: “Pfft! What are you saying? I’m still unmarried—how could I have a child?”

Zhang Cheng’s smile widened: “Don’t I count?”

Zhang Zihui’s face turned even redder, and for a moment she didn’t know how to respond.

She felt Zhang Cheng’s hand growing unrestrained, stroking her body.

Yet somehow, she didn’t resist—instead, a faint, elusive anticipation stirred within her.

But gradually, Zhang Zihui sensed something was wrong.

“Zhang Cheng, where’s your left hand?”

The night was dark and windy, and Zhang Cheng wore a long robe.

Zhang Zihui hadn’t noticed anything amiss until now.

Earlier, when he held her, she’d thought him a gentleman, content to stop at mere contact.

But now, with no sign of his left hand, it was clearly wrong.

Could Zhang Cheng really be this well-behaved? If he was truly well-behaved, why was he touching her at all?

“Heh, you caught me.”

Zhang Zihui touched the empty sleeve of Zhang Cheng’s arm, panicked: “What happened to your left hand?”

But Zhang Cheng didn’t answer—he only stared fixedly at Zhang Zihui, his eyes gleaming with strange light.

Zhang Zihui assumed she’d touched on his painful memory and steadied her voice: “It’s fine. Limb loss isn’t fatal. You can ask your Master to restore your body.”

Zhang Cheng smiled strangely: “I don’t need it anymore. After tonight, you and I will become one.”

Zhang Zihui rebuked sharply: “What nonsense are you spouting? Even injured, you’re still daydreaming.”

“No. I’m telling the truth.”

Suddenly, from the stump of his severed arm, a mass swelled rapidly, tearing through his robe.

It was a colossal arm, dragging along the ground, covered in gray-brown scales and slick, slimy mucus.

In an instant, it wrapped around her waist and snapped her in two.

Watching the disbelief still lingering in Zhang Zihui’s eyes, Zhang Cheng chuckled: “Didn’t you want me to hold you? I’ve fulfilled your wish—why are you so unhappy?”

“I get it. It’s because we haven’t merged yet—you’re not used to it.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be quick.”

No sooner had he spoken than the massive arm split open, dividing into eight segments, each lined with sharp teeth.

It was clearly a gigantic mouth, its tongue lapping at the teeth within.

Crunch!

In the deep blue forest, continuous chewing sounds echoed without end.

Amid the chirping of insects and birds, it formed a symphony of feeding.