13 Legacy

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Shen Yihan clutched the skin on the side of his neck, attempting to summon his spiritual energy to expel the parasitic insect within him. Yet, at this very moment, he was utterly unable to mobilize even the slightest bit of his power. He could only feel the tiny creature burrowing deeper inside, gradually entering the Purple Mansion.

His face turned pale. Seeing this, Xie Xiaofeng laughed heartily and stepped forward two paces, crouching down to pick up the Mandarin Duck Sword from the ground. He then snatched the flute body from Shen Yihan’s powerless hand, reassembling the sword and flute as one. While toying with it, he remarked, “This magical instrument is quite fascinating. I nearly got caught off guard by you.”

Shen Yihan despised this man deeply and did not want him to touch the heirlooms of his parents. Yet, powerless to retaliate, he could only glare at him with fury.

Xie Xiaofeng noticed Shen Yihan’s eyes—bright, lively, and shaped like willow leaves—though glaring at him, they carried a distinct elegance. His heart stirred.

Originally, he had intended to kill this man, but suddenly changed his mind.

Xie Xiaofeng patted the Mandarin Duck Sword in his palm and smiled, “Lord Shen, if you had attacked me outright when you pursued me earlier, my current body, blocked in meridians and weak in cultivation, would indeed be no match for you outside. But you insisted on following me all the way here, entering my Grandmaster’s secluded abode—wasn’t that a death wish?”

Shen Yihan felt his strength gradually ebbing. Fortunately, this demon seemed to be quite the chatterbox. He decided to play along and stall for time by continuing the conversation.

“What Grandmaster? This place is the Kunwu Mountain Range, the site where Luo Sect, the premier mysterious school of the cultivation world, is located. How could a demon cultivator’s Grandmaster be here?”

Xie Xiaofeng snorted, “Ignorant youth.”

His almond-shaped eyes flickered, and suddenly, as if struck by a thought, he looked at Shen Yihan and laughed, “Fine. Since you’ve fallen into my hands today, I’ll make you a clear ghost. My Grandmaster’s inheritance has now manifested—an act of Heaven’s pity to help me rise again. You, young one, have ruined my plans repeatedly. You should be dead, but I urgently need to restore my cultivation and might as well let you serve a purpose.”

Shen Yihan listened, bewildered. He had been bluffing to buy time, but Xie Xiaofeng’s continuous talk of “Grandmaster” and “inheritance,” spoke as if it were a solemn matter, leaving Shen Yihan even more confused.

Just as he prepared to question further, his gaze suddenly fixed behind Xie Xiaofeng.

The sealed, dark chamber should not have any light, yet ever since Shen Yihan entered, he could see clearly inside, as if a faint, natural light source was present. He had thought it came from some illuminating artifact, but only now did he realize otherwise.

Though the chamber was stone, the floor still held patches of soil beneath their feet. Tiny, delicate flowers bloomed between the cracks—yellow and white blossoms no larger than a thumbnail, quite inconspicuous.

Yet Shen Yihan recognized them and knew that the chamber’s light was refracted from these flowers.

These small flowers typically grow alongside rare materials and treasures. Because of their ordinary appearance, resembling wild chrysanthemums commonly seen in the mundane world, they are called Hundred Earth Chrysanthemums. But in truth, they are rare plants with remarkable properties to dissolve poisons and promote the circulation of spiritual energy. To this day they remain a costly ingredient in foundational elixir pills.

He recalled the clusters of blooming roses by the waterfall outside and had found them strange but paid no mind. Now, seeing the Hundred Earth Chrysanthemums, he immediately understood that there must be some hidden treasure nearby.

His heart raced wildly. Though unsure whether the flower would help against Xie Xiaofeng’s poison, it was worth a try—better than waiting passively for death. Concealing his movements beneath his sleeve, he carefully plucked a few blossoms from the ground.

Meanwhile, Xie Xiaofeng continued bragging, unrelenting, “I currently need a cauldron to reshape my body. You came knocking on my door, so you can’t blame me. Though your cultivation is poor and no match for the successor of the Dengyang Sword, you’re still passable. When I regain my Golden Core, you’ll have a share in the credit. Consider yourself lucky.”

Hearing that he intended to use him as a cauldron, Shen Yihan shuddered. He gathered the blossoms into his palm and sleeve, saying, “Don’t scare me. I’m a man—alchemy balancing requires harmony of yin and yang. Even if you use me as a cauldron, it won’t be of much use.”

“Who told you only men and women can be used for alchemy? That’s just what ignorant amateurs believe. The art is profound and subtle…”

Xie Xiaofeng was speaking when he suddenly paused.

He turned his gaze to Shen Yihan, narrowing his eyes.

“Lord Shen, you actually knew all along that your friend has a Yuan Yang body—that’s an extraordinary elixir for breakthroughs, isn’t it? Otherwise, how could you have detected my schemes and guarded against me at every turn?”

Shen Yihan said nothing, feigning weakness and collapsing to the ground. He placed a few Hundred Earth Chrysanthemums hidden in his sleeve near his cheek and swallowed them whole. The taste was initially bitter but then sweetened, and he silently hoped the flowers would take effect.

Xie Xiaofeng’s face lit up with realization, “Exactly. I heard Lord Shen has been stuck at the late Nascent Soul stage for over a hundred years, unable to advance, with only a few decades of life left. You must be anxious, so you set your sights on your friend. It’s a pity you nearly got overtaken by me before you could act. Naturally, you tried to sabotage me.”

Shen Yihan had no desire to dignify his words with a response, wanting only to quietly wait for the Hundred Earth Chrysanthemum’s effect. Yet, whether it was the poison inside making his emotions hard to control, or hearing Xie Xiaofeng’s slander against his friendship with Yun Ran...

He had known Yun Ran for a thousand years, never coveting his cultivation, reputation, or status, yet Xie Xiaofeng’s accusations stirred his blood to boil. Unable to endure, he snapped, “Your mind is filthy—do you think everyone in the world is as despicable as you? Yun Ran and I are just friends—open, honest, and pure. I’ve never schemed against him. If I had, I would have acted long ago—why wait until now?”

Regretting his outburst, he thought to himself, why explain to a demon like Xie Xiaofeng?

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Was he really hoping this man could understand the thousand-year friendship between him and Yun Ran?

That would be foolish beyond belief.

He fell silent, but Xie Xiaofeng was relentless. Squatting before him, he used the Mandarin Duck Sword to sweep aside the hair on Shen Yihan’s cheek and lifted his chin.

“Oh? If you’re not after his body, then what else are you after, Lord Shen?”

“You wouldn’t have some other designs on your thousand-year-old friend, would you? Otherwise, why risk so much for him, knowing my identity?”

Shen Yihan closed his eyes in silence, though his eyelashes trembled slightly.

Because he finally felt the numbness and weakness in his body lessen somewhat.

Fortunately, the Hundred Earth Chrysanthemums seemed to be working.

“Even if you have no thoughts of him, could it be that he harbors feelings for you?”

Xie Xiaofeng sensed nothing unusual, only noticing Shen Yihan’s emotional turbulence, which played right into his hands.

Though the parasitic insect was formidable, Shen Yihan was currently at Nascent Soul stage, while Xie Xiaofeng was only at Qi Refinement—several realms weaker. Because of this, although Shen Yihan was powerless to resist, the insect had not yet stirred his desires or trapped him in illusions.

For the insect to fully activate, the more restless and turbulent Shen Yihan’s emotions were, the better.

Xie Xiaofeng chuckled, deliberately provoking Shen Yihan, “He cares for you so much, Lord Shen—have you never witnessed love between man and woman? Look around—how many lovers care for their beloved as attentively as Master Yun does for you? If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe that the cold, aloof Dengyang Sword School would worry so much over a ‘friend’ whose lifespan is nearly spent and who struggles with breakthroughs. Even in quiet meditation, he fails repeatedly. Your ‘friend’ must mean a great deal.”

Hearing this, Shen Yihan's heart grew more confused. He thought, “He’s provoking me for a reason—probably malicious. I mustn’t fall for his trap again.”

Yet he also wondered, “Since he knows I used spiritual perception to spy on him, his spiritual senses must be at least as strong as mine, despite his weak cultivation. How else would he know Yun Ran’s meditation is failing? Did he spy on Yun Ran? Yun Ran actually worries about me this much—why? Why does he care so deeply? Is this some kind of mental torment? It’s all my fault... I’ve done nothing right but made him worry so much...”

His mind tangled in chaos, his breathing grew rapid.

Xie Xiaofeng helped him up from the ground, smiling gently, “Stop thinking. Look at me.”

Suddenly, Shen Yihan felt dizzy. When he focused, the person before him had transformed into Yun Ran’s face.

“You... you are...?”

His head throbbed fiercely, and he could think of nothing.

“Yun Ran” looked at him tenderly, supporting him with one hand and holding the Mandarin Duck Sword with the other, offering it to him.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ve killed that demon cultivator. We’re safe now. Don’t let anyone take your things again.”

Shen Yihan’s chest heaved rapidly. Taking the familiar sword, a slight calm returned, and his trust in the figure grew.

“When did you arrive? How did you know I was here...?”

His head felt heavy, and his body grew unbearably hot. His lower abdomen burned as if set aflame, causing great discomfort.

“Yun Ran” moved closer, his voice low and deep as he whispered, “Yihan, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”

He wrapped an arm around Shen Yihan’s waist.

But that single sentence struck like thunder into Shen Yihan’s world.

A sudden lightning flash in his mind: “No... Yun Ran never calls me that. He either addresses me coldly by full name, Shen Zhuo, or awkwardly as ‘Brother Shen.’ It’s been a thousand or eight hundred years since he last called me that. This man... isn’t Yun Ran! He is... he is...”

Before he could think further, “Yun Ran’s” face grew larger in his vision. Though his body remained feverish, the weakness and numbness began to fade. Without hesitation, Shen Yihan drew the Mandarin Duck Sword and with a ‘puff’ sound—

He stabbed it into the chest of the man before him.

Xie Xiaofeng’s eyes widened in shock. He never expected Shen Yihan to strike so suddenly. Just moments ago, Shen Yihan had fallen into his trap and entered an illusion—how could this be?

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Yet before Shen Yihan’s eyes, the illusion shattered. Xie Xiaofeng’s face reverted to its true form.

Shen Yihan’s thrust was deep. No matter how strong Xie Xiaofeng’s spiritual sense might be, his current body was only at Qi Refinement stage—far too weak to withstand a piercing strike to the heart. Gasping, he clutched his chest as blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.

Shen Yihan gave no quarter, delivering another stab. When Xie Xiaofeng finally collapsed, motionless on the ground, Shen Yihan withdrew the Mandarin Duck Sword—

Though he had just saved his life, the blade bore no trace of blood.

Leaning against the bookshelf in the chamber, Shen Yihan felt the heat intensify, the burning in his lower abdomen growing fiercer. He mused, “Exorcising demons is indeed difficult. Facing this demon today, I nearly lost my purity and my life. If a proper man like me were to be used by a demon cultivator for alchemical purposes—first this... then that... if the news got out, wouldn’t it ruin my entire reputation?”

His mind wandered absurdly, but the burning lust was unbearable.

The chamber now held only him and Xie Xiaofeng’s corpse—no other living being.

The parasitic insect was originally forged to control the host. With Xie Xiaofeng dead, the insect’s master was gone, causing the illusion to collapse, but its arousing effect remained.

Unable to endure, Shen Yihan sat against the bookshelf, closed his eyes, and began to pleasure himself.

As he did, he was enraged. Since birth, he had never suffered such disgrace—alone in a pitch-black chamber, undressing himself beside a corpse.

Neither elegant nor enjoyable.

Since awakening from the illusion, Shen Yihan had deliberately avoided pondering why Xie Xiaofeng had taken the form of Yun Ran. But now, he could no longer evade the question.

A flash of white light appeared before his eyes, and in his mind, not a stranger’s face, but the sharp, cold visage of his friend Yun Ran emerged.

His mind went blank, only two words remaining: “This is bad.”

Worse still, a more troubling sound reached him.

He heard Yun Ran’s voice.

It was as usual—low, mellow, like a quiet, cold spring—not as sharp and imposing as his features suggested, not as handsome to the point of intimidation.

“Shen Zhuo?”

For a moment, Shen Yihan thought he must be hallucinating.

He thought, “Am I truly going mad? Doing this kind of thing—what’s the point?”

But soon he realized this was no illusion.

Yun Ran’s voice was real, coming from just outside the chamber, only a few steps away.

Only now, his voice lacked its usual calm and was tinged with urgency.

“Shen Zhuo...?”

At last, Shen Yihan understood—Yun Ran was searching for someone.

Or rather, searching for him.