Chapter 42: Old Dreams and Former Acquaintances
I. Heading to the Front: An Uneasy Gathering
As the Six Sects of the Demonic Tao exerted full pressure on the borders, Yellow Maple Valley dispatched a large contingent of elites to the front lines. Wen Buhuo was once again ordered to set out, accompanied by the members of his former demon-slaying squad.
In the team, Song Meng remained high-spirited and eager for battle, while Chen Qiaoqian’s gaze toward Buhuo grew increasingly tender. Zhong Weiyan, however, had become silent and withdrawn following the death of Liu Jing. The new addition, Dong Xuan’er, acted like a spoiled young miss, complaining incessantly throughout the journey—a sharp contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the impending war.
"Senior Brother Wen, Jia Yuan City is just ahead. Should we stop to rest and reorganize?" Chen Qiaoqian asked, maneuvering her flying sword closer.
Wen Buhuo gazed at the familiar city, a flicker of complex emotion crossing his eyes. "You lead the team to the border to set up camp first. I have some private matters to attend to here; I will catch up shortly."
II. The Fragrance of Herbs in Jia Yuan: A Silent Farewell
Upon entering Jia Yuan City, Wen Buhuo did not reveal himself. Instead, he relied on his memory to find the residence of Mo Caihuan.
The young miss of yesteryear had grown up. Utilizing the herbal knowledge Wen Buhuo had left her, she had opened a small pharmacy called "Mo’s Fragrance Hall." Buhuo watched from the shadows as she skillfully prepared medicine for the poor. Although Caihuan had adopted an obedient orphan girl and lived a stable life, her complexion carried a faint, lingering frailty.
Looking at her still-bright but sickly face, Buhuo sighed inwardly. He did not push the door open to enter. Instead, under the cover of night, he quietly placed several bottles of Face-Preserving Pills and precious elixirs for regulating meridians and extending life beside her pillow.
III. The Blacksmith of the Back Mountain: Li Zhuang’s "Ordinary" Life
After leaving Jia Yuan City, Wen Buhuo headed straight for the back mountain. He remembered Mo Caihuan mentioning that Li Zhuang had disappeared here years ago.
Deep in the mountain, Buhuo discovered a solitary blacksmith shop. Clang, clang— A rhythmic hammering echoed as a burly man, shirtless and drenched in sweat, worked with intensity. The familiar silhouette was none other than Li Zhuang, who had been missing for years.
To Wen Buhuo’s surprise, Li Zhuang was accompanied by a gentle wife and a five-year-old daughter. They appeared to be the most ordinary of mountain-dwelling families—Li Zhuang forging iron to support the home while his wife handled the sewing and washing. The scene was so heartwarming it made one doubt the cruel reality of the cultivation world.
However, Wen Buhuo’s sharp spiritual sense captured a trace of extremely faint yet incredibly pure Fiendish Qi from Li Zhuang. Although Li Zhuang’s displayed strength was only at the peak of the Qi Condensation stage, this Fiendish Qi was certainly not something an ordinary cultivator could possess.
IV. A Cold Gambit: Immobilization Charms and Hostages
Wen Buhuo observed them in secret for several days. As a cultivator who believed in being "steady" and "rooting out trouble at the source," he refused to believe a master harboring Fiendish Qi would live in seclusion here for no reason.
"Whether he is a demonic spy or a reclusive devil, I cannot leave a hidden threat behind. Something has seized Li Zhuang’s body; I must save him."
On an afternoon as the sun began to set, Wen Buhuo made his move.
"Halt!" An Immobilization Charm shot out like a meteor, instantly freezing Li Zhuang as he was drawing water from the well. In a flash, Wen Buhuo appeared, his hands locking onto the vital points of Li Zhuang’s terrified wife and daughter.
Li Zhuang’s body was rigid, his eyes bloodshot with terror and rage, a beast-like low growl escaping his throat. "Who are you... let them go! They are just mortals; if you want something, come at me!"
"Mortals?" Wen Buhuo felt the pulses of the two in his hands, his eyes cold. "In the cultivation world, mortals are indeed ants, but if they are vessels for 'Demonic Seeds,' that is another matter entirely. Speak—who are you exactly, and why have you occupied this physical shell?"
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