Chapter 65: Has Anyone Seen My Disciple?

Destiny? Wen Jin’ge’s head hurt.

She had come to find someone, not to watch a spectacle. “Nonexistent” had warned her: only interacting with demon beasts did not fit the setting, so she could infer that the difficulty of the story was about to increase.

Was this a challenge from the main brain, or was it an obstacle laid by someone with ulterior motives?

Two situations, two different ways to fight back. Wen Jin’ge was unsure which to choose, so she could only wait and see.

“Excuse me, has anyone seen my disciple?” Wen Jin’ge coughed, attempting to break the silence.

See me, see me, hurry and see me.

Qiao Yu did not see her; on the contrary, he walked straight through her body.

Wen Jin’ge: …

“Has anyone seen my disciples?” She addressed the longevity tablets on the desk. “I’m here to find my senior and junior disciples. If not, I’ll come back to ask later.”

This place felt like a small barrier; as Qiao Yu left, the world darkened.

Wen Jin’ge squatted on the ground, bored, drawing circles.

Since she’d arrived here, she was no longer the master of events; Qiao Yu was. She could only follow what happened to him and continue searching for the past.

Naturally, perhaps this was advice about things yet to come.

Just as she felt a wave of dejection, the world brightened again.

Qiao Yu returned, carrying Gou Chen in his hand. Gou Chen was originally a sword radiating purple light, but now, in his grasp, it had lost all color, dull and lifeless, like a wooden sword.

“Master…” Qiao Yu was cloaked in murderous energy.

Wen Jin’ge was familiar with this. After resolving the matter of the three-legged golden crow, her third disciple had gained sudden insight from a single melodramatic remark. Having spent time with the demon zither, this advancement was inevitably disturbed.

Yet Yang Wen’nan had only been disturbed—not corrupted.

Gou Chen’s proper usage, it seemed, was to counteract the demon zither, absorbing demonic energy to return to its true state.

“Master, I finally understand.” He laughed and cried, tears and laughter intertwining, as if two personalities battled for dominance.

He knelt before the longevity tablets, both repenting and longing for redemption: “Master, you gave me my life, you brought me up the mountain. If I live, the world will never know peace.”

He gave a desolate laugh, muttering, “So this is where I was meant to end up!”

Qiao Yu’s eyes were bloodshot, pale purple aura swirling around him. He placed Gou Chen on the altar, his gaze lingering on the memory of Wen Jin’ge. “Master, in this life, the only person I wronged was you—the one I hated most… You did everything for me, your intentions painstaking… But, but I never knew anything.”

He covered his face with both hands, shoulders trembling, bloody tears streaming down as he raved, “Who would have thought, I destroyed the demon, but ultimately became one myself. I awaken, and the world is never at peace, chaos reigns outside.”

He knelt, bowing repeatedly to the longevity tablets, his head smashing until blood flowed. “Seven Peaks, Xuan Yun Sect, the Xuan Gate—all gone… They call me a hero. Can a hero be a demon?”

He endured the pain, forcibly tearing his soul from his body. Twisted spirit gazed upon his own form, a hint of disgust in his eyes. “Master, if there’s a next life, would you still be willing to see me?”

Gou Chen stood upright, as if threatened, pointing straight toward Qiao Yu’s spirit.

“You were carved from Fusang wood, a sword of utmost strength and purity, able to remain willingly by Master’s side, never tainted. I should have trusted you long ago.”

He sighed, a sound carrying endless regret. “If Master were truly a villain, you’d have been the first to leave.”

Gou Chen did not move, simply lay across his path, probing.

“Your master was destroyed by me. If you truly possess a spirit, then kill me!”

Qiao Yu closed his eyes, the agony on his face slowly fading, as though waiting for the release of a sword’s thrust.

He waited, and Gou Chen shredded his body, twisting his soul as well.

In a haze, he seemed to see again the woman who loved to wear white—the woman who bore all burdens and infamy for him, who, after leaving Xuan Yun Sect, always wore black, solemn yet called a demon by others.

“Master…” In his soul form, Qiao Yu reached out, wanting to touch her, but did not dare. “Master, is it really you returning?”

“Me?” Wen Jin’ge looked left and right, pointed at herself, and cleared her throat. “Have you seen my two disciples? If not, I’ll come back later.”

“I have.” He smiled.

Gou Chen pierced to the bone, striking his flesh, yet his soul faded as well. His body became nothing but white bones, his spirit shredded.

“How could she… how did she bear it…” His hoarse voice issued a piercing question, regretful tears streaming down his face. “How… how did she bear it… so, so much pain…”

The world darkened once more.

Wen Jin’ge scratched her head—what was this, her question still unanswered, how could the lights go out?

“Nonexistent” remained asleep, her mind empty; the melodramatic lord had not appeared.

This place seemed deeper within her consciousness; the person in control was not her, nor should it be Qiao Yu. Most likely, the original owner’s consciousness was at work.

“Master…”

Wen Jin’ge heard Liang Si’s voice. “Si Si, is that you? Where are you?”

“Master…”

The sky brightened again.

Liang Si had always seemed calm and unperturbed to Wen Jin’ge, so much so she wondered if he lacked a few brain cells, but here his expression was vivid and intense.

His face was covered in tears, red from crying, so much so he was almost out of breath.

Such a snot-stained appearance was nothing like the composed youth she knew—he was just a child who hadn’t grown up.

“Master, don’t leave!” Liang Si knelt, clutching someone’s pant leg. Even the stage lighting seemed to remember its duty, allowing her to finally see who Liang Si was holding.

That face belonged to another Wen Jin’ge.

“Liang Si, you are the one I worry about most. Master is leaving; you must look after yourself. Go to the Lofty Peak and seek your uncle’s protection, do you understand?”

Her expression was pitifully sparse, her eyes as calm as a still well, tinged with distant detachment.

It was as if she were destined for a place only she could go, unwilling to forge further ties to this time.

A little more or less—either way, it was a burden.

“Master! Don’t leave! Liang Si will always believe in you.”

“Be good! Don’t let me see your tears.” Wen Jin’ge helped him up, wiped his face, and though it was a tender moment between master and disciple, there was an odd sense of parting worlds. “Child, don’t tell anyone you saw me today.”