Chapter 87: I Suspect You’re Messing With Me

"I..." Wen Jinge looked at the hand gripping her ankle, drained of strength, then glanced at the two pairs of eyes fixed upon her, her expression flickering with hesitation. "Nan Nan, is it forbidden to cut him down?"

Wen Jinge was always amiable in her manner, and since arriving here, she had never once batted an eye at killing or drawing blood; indeed, she had adapted quickly to this way of life.

Yet when it came to people who ought to have died but reappeared as if resurrected...

If his appearance now were as ordinary as anyone’s, or if he resembled Lu Wei’s spectral form, Wen Jinge might have taken it in stride. But—

These hands were too cold, the movements too stiff, the gaze far too lifeless...

All of this, everything together, made Wen Jinge—who feared neither heaven nor earth—truly uneasy for the first time.

The first to notice was not herself, but Lu Wei: "Are you afraid?"

"Yes," Wen Jinge nodded, closing her eyes. "Can I kill him?"

"Master, wasn’t the Banquet of a Hundred Ghosts written by you? The handwriting is unmistakably yours."

"I wrote it idly, just for amusement. I’ve forgotten the details."

Indeed, she had written it on a whim, a stray inspiration that came to her. She hadn’t thought much about ghost cultivators’ affairs; only the Banquet of a Hundred Ghosts held any weight in her heart.

Yang Wennan was left speechless, thinking this was just like Master.

"The thing in your mind has dissipated," Lu Wei continued.

"Hmm?" Wen Jinge frowned, eyeing the hand clutching her ankle with distaste. It wasn't gripping tightly and, compared to the others who were struggling madly to escape, this one was strangely calm.

"The little one is still there, but much smaller than when we first met."

"Oh." Wen Jinge nodded.

"Did you notice? Just now, when you spoke, you sounded much like her when she emerged."

Wen Jinge swallowed, a chill running down her spine. "Don’t frighten me. I’m not brave."

"I believe you now," Lu Wei said, lowering his eyelids as thick demonic energy poured forth, freezing the half-formed ghostly auras around them. "You come out first."

"Alright, alright! This humble monk thanks the revered master!"

Lu Wei’s brow twitched. Was Wen Jinge’s shamelessness something she’d picked up at the Secret Treasury Sect?

This monk was clearly a man of the cloth, yet his words were peculiarly tiresome, always spoiling the mood.

"My master didn’t save you, he saved my master," Yang Wennan said bluntly. He was always forthright, and though he knew to mind his place before both his masters, with his junior sister absent, he didn’t mind acting as the sect’s defender.

"Don’t spout nonsense! He saved us all," Lu Wei said, lifting Wen Jinge onto the coffin. "You two, get on. Time is short."

Yang Wennan climbed up, but the monk of Sorrow and Joy couldn’t get on no matter what he tried; the coffin itself repelled his approach.

"Immortal Wen—" Sorrow and Joy suspected Wen Jinge was toying with him but had no proof, his face pulling into an exaggerated frown. "This humble monk is still of use!"

"It’s not me," Wen Jinge replied, equally perplexed. She stroked the coffin, speaking softly, "Ah Cai, let him on. I need the Holy Son to locate the Demon Lord."

Lu Wei and Yang Wennan found nothing strange in Wen Jinge’s tone, but Sorrow and Joy, who had lived long, had never seen anyone speak so tenderly to a coffin, as if whispering sweet nothings to a lover in the morning.

"Er..."

"Ah Cai says you can come up, but you mustn’t talk too much."

Lu Wei’s lips curled in a smirk; it was obvious Wen Jinge was doing this on purpose.

Sorrow and Joy cast a silence spell on himself, and Lu Wei withdrew his demonic aura at just the right time. Qiao Yu’s body was too frail—had he his old body, he wouldn’t have needed to time his intervention so precisely.

"Are we leaving?" someone asked.

"Wu wu wu, won’t you take care of things here?" came a muffled reply.

Wen Jinge hesitated, suddenly recalling why she used to call this person a fool—Qiao Yu had always been this exasperating when he first joined the sect.

"Undo it. I said not to chatter, not to be mute!"

The monk let out a long, pent-up breath. "Here—Immortal Wen, are you not going to intervene?"

"Find a vantage point and keep watch. This concerns the Demon Lord’s resurrection—I don’t believe that Holy Son won’t return to see this place with his own eyes."

"And those children?"

"Children?" Wen Jinge shot him a cold look, her gaze mocking his naivety. "Do children eat human flesh? These children, raised on human meat, are far harder to deal with than the demonic shadows born from blood and filth. My Xuan Yun Sect is no orphanage, and I doubt your Secret Treasury Sect is either."

"Ah..." Sorrow and Joy sighed deeply. "If only my senior brother were here."

His senior brother was the only one truly capable of persuading Immortal Wen—far more difficult than he.

"Whether your senior brother is here or not, it would be the same. Where has he gone?"

"He’s gone to seek the Saintess. Not long ago, he said she was near Xuan Yun Sect, but I haven’t heard from him lately, so I do not know."

"Oh," Wen Jinge sighed, her thoughts not on the Virtuous Buddha but on the Northern Demon Bell. That little girl had had several of her strongholds destroyed by Wen Jinge—she must be both fearful and resentful by now.

It was well known that every generation, the Saint and the Holy Son vied fiercely for favor, not daring to stir trouble near Xuan Yun Sect, yet still being hounded by a sharp-tongued monk. It would be stranger still if nothing went awry.

"Are you from Xuan Yun Sect, Immortal Wen?" Before Wen Jinge could answer, he slapped his own forehead. "That’s my error—of course you are, where else could you be from?"

Wen Jinge smiled and glanced at Lu Wei. It was still Qiao Yu’s face that was most pleasing to the eye. As for why she didn’t look at Yang Wennan—it was because he was diligently studying at that moment.

One should not disturb a child who is learning.

The star maps were far too difficult. Wen Jinge was waiting for him to understand them so he could teach her in return; whether that was unethical was a question she didn’t bother to consider.

"Would you like to know how I tracked you down, Immortal Wen?" Sorrow and Joy asked.

She neither encouraged nor discouraged him, leaving him to speak if he wished.

Lu Wei’s expression shifted, his gaze sweeping blankly around. He was sitting atop a flying coffin, with his junior brother studying beside him, and his master seated opposite.

"Ma—Master..." Lu Wei stammered.

Wen Jinge nodded, though inwardly she was speechless.

When there was nothing to do, disciples were hidden away; when trouble arose, they were sent forward. Lu Wei truly was resourceful!

"And who is that?" Lu Wei eyed the monk warily. This monk looked anything but well-intentioned, though he couldn’t say why.

"Sorrow and Joy of the Secret Treasury Sect," Yang Wennan replied, multitasking, but before he’d finished, he felt a cold, eerie gaze fall upon him and hastily returned to his studies.

The children were scattered everywhere. Though it was supposedly a camp for children, it looked as if a great battle had taken place—flames raged, many children lay gutted and slain, and among the combatants were not only wild beasts but also the children themselves.

"Buddha is compassion itself, mercy upon all," Sorrow and Joy intoned.

"Is this still compassion?" Qiao Yu muttered, clicking his tongue. "No wonder the First Master went off to sleep—she couldn’t bear to see such things. But I..."

He trailed off, but those present heard every word clearly.

"Why? Were you an orphan of war too, Senior Brother?" Yang Wennan asked.

"Too?"

"I am."

"And so am I."