Zhang Xiaofan gazed deeply at the middle-aged scholar who had introduced himself as Wan Renwang. An ominous premonition welled up within him, yet there was another force deep in his heart that compelled him to ask, “Please, Sir, enlighten me.”
Wan Renwang gave him a meaningful look and spoke slowly, “This black rod carries a heavy aura of malevolence. Its dark luster is contained, and anyone who approaches it within ten feet will have their blood forced back into their heart, leading to death.”
Zhang Xiaofan felt a chill run through him and couldn’t help but say, “Yes, when I first encountered this object, I felt my body becoming heavy and nauseous from afar, almost to the point of fainting.”
Wan Renwang sighed lightly, looking at him, “Exactly so. And yet, you survived. How peculiar.”
Zhang Xiaofan did not catch the last part and asked, “What?”
Wan Renwang smiled slightly but did not answer, pointing instead at the black rod, “This rod is inherently a great source of evil known as ‘Soul Devourer.’ It is not an artifact of the Demon Sect and has remained hidden for thousands of years, only recorded in ancient texts. Young Master Zhang, your fortune is indeed great to possess such a treasure.”
“Soul Devourer!” Zhang Xiaofan muttered, his face expressionless.
“Indeed,” Wan Renwang’s face returned to calm, “The ancient text, ‘Treatise on Wonders,’ mentions: A wondrous iron fell into the netherworld, where ghostly flames refined the souls of the damned. For a thousand years it smoldered, then took form, gathering the aura of ghosts and spirits, and finally became the Soul Devourer. Such a malevolent object is not meant for the living to wield, yet here you are.”
With a clatter, the black rod slipped from Zhang Xiaofan’s hand and fell to the ground. He felt weak and stifled, stumbling back a few steps, unable to tear his eyes away from the object that had been by his side all these years.
Wan Renwang, seeing his shock, gave a cold smile, “Young Master Zhang, what’s wrong with you?”
Zhang Xiaofan shook his head, feeling pain in his words, “How… how can this be? I am of the Qingyun Sect, how could I wield such an evil object?” He recalled the fear of the specters in the Dead Spirit Abyss, now understanding it was likely due to the Soul Devourer.
Wan Renwang saw the boy’s confusion, knowing he had grown up in the Qingyun Sect, never exposed to the outside world. Now, facing such a drastic change, he was lost. Wan Renwang simply watched him, offering no comfort, and said, “An evil object? What do you think makes something evil?”
Zhang Xiaofan, dazed and confused, pointed at the rod, “This… this thing has harmed countless lives, isn’t that enough to make it evil?”
Wan Renwang scoffed, “Is something evil simply because it kills many?”
Without thinking, Zhang Xiaofan replied, “Yes.”
Wan Renwang’s face twisted with scorn, his aura growing intimidating, “Let me ask you, young man, are a male pig and a female pig, a black pig and a white pig, all still pigs?”
Taken aback, Zhang Xiaofan nodded, “Of course.”
“Then,” Wan Renwang continued, “are lions, goats, tigers, and rabbits all creatures? Do they have a distinction between good and evil when they kill each other?”
Zhang Xiaofan sensed the meaning behind his words but still hesitated, “Yes.”
Wan Renwang huffed, “Then, the so-called righteous and evil, are they all still human?”
Zhang Xiaofan was stunned, “Yes.”
Wan Renwang looked at him intently, “Do you know of the legendary sword ‘Zhu Xian’ on Qingyun Mountain, revered for its might and power?”
Zhang Xiaofan nodded absentmindedly, “Yes.”
Wan Renwang’s face darkened, “Then, do you know how many lives that sword has taken in the great battle a thousand years ago? If we speak of true evil, your venerated Zhu Xian sword is the most lethal weapon in the world!”
Zhang Xiaofan reeled, as if struck by a physical blow. In his heart, something sacred and inviolable began to crack for the first time.
The sun shone brightly, casting dappled light through the leaves. Occasionally, a ray of light would fall on the young man.
Zhang Xiaofan crouched on the ground, the black rod lying before him, looking ugly in the shadow. The words of Wan Renwang echoed in his mind, reminding him of similar sentiments expressed by Bi Yao in the Empty Mulberry Mountain. But now, they carried a different weight, a low, cold laugh echoing in his heart: He is right, he is right.
Wan Renwang sat calmly, sipping cold tea. The old teahouse owner cast a glance, then looked away, oblivious to the storm raging in the young man’s heart.
After a long while, Zhang Xiaofan’s face calmed. He reached out, grabbed the rod, and stood, facing Wan Renwang, “Who are you?”
Wan Renwang resumed his casual manner, “I am Wan Renwang, a common traveler.”
Zhang Xiaofan, clutching the rod, demanded, “How does a commoner know so much? Are you a demon?”
Wan Renwang remained calm, “Does the distinction between good and evil matter so much to you?”
Zhang Xiaofan took a deep breath, “Yes!”
Wan Renwang sneered, “Then why do you still use this evil object?”
Zhang Xiaofan trembled but remained resolute, “Even if this rod is an evil object, I use it to vanquish demons. My conscience is clear, like the Zhu Xian sword.”
Wan Renwang paused, then laughed, “You have a rare insight, beyond most. But your thoughts are more complex than that.”
Zhang Xiaofan ignored him, “Who are you?”
Wan Renwang avoided answering, “Are you heading north to Qingyun Mountain?”
Zhang Xiaofan hesitated, “What do you mean?”
Wan Renwang smiled, “The Demon Sect is rising again, and they are gathering at the Flowing Wave Mountain. Many from Qingyun and other sects are preparing for a battle. Why don’t you join them?”
Zhang Xiaofan was stunned, “Is this true?” But he quickly regained his composure, “That’s none of my concern. I’m asking you again…”
Before he could finish, Wan Renwang and even the teahouse owner vanished, leaving Zhang Xiaofan alone.
Feeling a chill, Zhang Xiaofan stood in the sunlight, then left the tree, heading east.
As Zhang Xiaofan left, three figures emerged from behind the tree. Among them were Wan Renwang, the teahouse owner, and Bi Yao.
Wan Renwang looked east, smiling, “This young man is stubborn and determined, much like I was.”
The teahouse owner, now transformed, questioned, “Lord, why not keep him since he has our treasures?”
Wan Renwan, unfazed, explained, “The ‘Blood-devouring Pearl’ and ‘Soul Devourer’ are fused with his blood. Only he can control them now. We cannot use them.”
Bi Yao, hearing this, recalled the strange energy in the rod in the Dead Spirit Abyss.
Wan Renwang turned to Bi Yao, his face softening, “What do you think of this young man?”
Blushing, Bi Yao chided, “Father, I brought you here to see him!”
Wan Renwang chuckled, “He is a good young man, but deeply entrenched in Qingyun’s teachings. Converting him to our cause will be difficult.”
Bi Yao’s face fell, sighing softly.
Wan Renwang stroked her hair, smiling, “But he has helped us reconcile, and we must repay his kindness.”
Bi Yao brightened, “Father, do you have a plan?”
Wan Renwang, exuding authority, said, “Changing someone’s nature is hard, but not impossible.”
Bi Yao beamed, and Wan Renwang, pleased, saw her joy. However, the other man frowned, questioning the worth of the effort.
Wan Renwang disagreed, “This boy has a powerful evil artifact and controls it. Such talent, if we can sway him, will greatly aid our cause. Plus, he has helped us.”
Bi Yao nodded, “I told him once, if he joins us, you would value him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Wan Renwang laughed, “He won’t, raised in Qingyun, he despises us. But, the Blood-devouring Pearl and Soul Devourer, being so malevolent, will eventually corrupt him. When he is no longer accepted by the righteous, we can easily bring him to our side.”
Bi Yao, uncertain whether to be happy or worried, stared east, seeing the sun high in the sky, the road empty, and the young man long gone.
* * *
Zhang Xiaofan left the teahouse, walking east alone. The sun was high, and the land was vast and sparsely populated. The ancient road stretched ahead, straight and unending.
Zhang Xiaofan walked, not flying, contemplating the conversation with Wan Renwang. Despite his confident demeanor, he couldn’t help but question himself: Am I really right?
The black rod, nestled at his waist, sent a cool sensation through his body.
As he walked, he suddenly stopped, looking up at the sky, blue and unreachable.
Zhang Xiaofan, deep in thought, whispered, “What is the purpose of life?”
* * *
On his journey, Zhang Xiaofan endured, catching wild game for food and sleeping under trees. His body, hardened by chopping bamboo, did not tire easily.
Though he could fly, he chose to walk, hoping to resolve his questions.
However, the questions weighed heavily on his mind. He doubted the infallibility of his sect’s teachings but found some merit in Wan Renwang’s words. Confused, he continued to ponder.
* * *
Days passed, and Zhang Xiaofan noticed a small town ahead. It was bustling, a welcome sight after days of solitude.
Walking into the town, Zhang Xiaofan felt a sense of nostalgia. The sounds of people, the shops, and the street vendors created a lively scene.
Suddenly, a loud gong sounded, startling Zhang Xiaofan. The townspeople hurried towards the center, discussing the troubles caused by a monster in the nearby Black Stone Cave.
Curious, Zhang Xiaofan followed the crowd, where the town mayor and others addressed the issue. The monster had been terrorizing the town, and the mayor proposed hiring a powerful cultivator to deal with it.
A massive man, called Shitou, stepped forward, declaring he would help. Shitou, a disciple of the Golden Gate, demonstrated his power by destroying a wall with a golden spiked mace.
Impressed, the mayor agreed, and Shitou dismissed the need for payment, saying he sought to refine his cultivation by helping others.
Zhang Xiaofan, inspired, prepared to step forward, but a voice warned him, “Ah, young man, you have a black cloud over your head, a sign of impending doom!”
Startled, Zhang Xiaofan stumbled, stepping in dog feces. Turning, he saw an old man and a young girl, both with a mystical air.
The old man, seeing Zhang Xiaofan’s predicament, advised, “This is a grave omen. Have you heard, ‘stepping in dog feces brings bad luck, nine out of ten will die, and the stench will bring misfortune.'”
Zhang Xiaofan, flabbergasted, admitted, “No, I’ve heard it means good luck.”
The old man dismissed this, insisting the old saying held true. Zhang Xiaofan, convinced, agreed to let the old man read his fortune.
The old man, gesturing to a nearby tree, invited, “Let’s talk there.”
Zhang Xiaofan, intrigued, followed, noticing the little girl, who playfully pointed out the dog feces still on his shoe.
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