Chapter Thirteen: Between Life and Death

However, no matter how radiant the woman’s smile, it could not sway Ye Xin or Mountain Cannon. Mountain Cannon was completely oblivious to such charms, and Ye Xin, having encountered countless beauties in his previous life, was hardly fazed.

“Then give me two yuan crystals. You seem to have plenty,” Mountain Cannon pressed on, still unwilling to let Ye Xin get off without some payment.

Yuan crystals and yuan stones were fundamentally different. Yuan stones were the natural product of condensed terrestrial energy, essential for cultivation, while yuan crystals were formed from the souls of fierce beasts and mainly used to catalyze a warrior's forging of their innate skill. For example, in the City of Destiny, the Poison Widow forged two innate skills using over forty yuan crystals harvested from Emperor Scorpions of the wetlands—her luck was enough to make others envious.

Typically, a warrior needed at least a hundred identical yuan crystals to forge an innate skill. If one's aptitude was lacking, even using three or five hundred could still end in failure—a setback that might cripple a person for life.

Ye Xin ignored Mountain Cannon; negotiations were at their pivotal moment, and he could not allow Mountain Cannon to sabotage them.

“Well? Have you made up your mind?” Ye Xin asked the woman.

“Could you take off your cloak and let me see your face?” she replied quietly.

“No,” Ye Xin refused, shaking his head.

“How unfortunate…” The woman sighed softly, then set down her dagger and the small porcelain bottle, and finally lifted up the little box made from Absolute Wall Ice Crystal.

“Hey… Don’t give it to him yet! I’m not finished talking to him!” Mountain Cannon called out urgently.

“If you want to live, stay away from me!” Ye Xin nearly snarled. He reached out and took the little box from the woman’s hand, his fingertips pale with tension. Was he truly about to take this step?

“May I go now?” The woman struggled to stand.

“Farewell,” Ye Xin nodded, then hurried into the woods with the box in his arms.

Mountain Cannon and the woman watched Ye Xin disappear among the trees. After a long silence, Mountain Cannon spoke in a low voice, “Let’s go, I’ll escort you back to Nine Cauldrons City. Oh… besides Black Tiger Hall, are there any others after you?”

“I don’t know,” the woman shook her head.

Meanwhile, Ye Xin had walked deep into the forest, beads of sweat breaking across his brow. He had been exerting extraordinary self-control, but the strain was reaching its limit.

Ahead, an agarwood tree caught his eye. Yes, this was the place. Ye Xin slowed, walked up to the tree, paused briefly, then carefully opened the little box containing the Infant Transformation Fruit. A rich fragrance immediately spread around him.

“Are you satisfied?” Ye Xin murmured.

A wisp of black smoke drifted from Ye Xin’s brow, followed by an aged voice: “Your aura seems unstable.”

“Probably because I’m so happy,” Ye Xin smiled. “After all, I’ve proven I’m not useless. I can help you, at least a little.”

“It’s rare you have such intentions,” the old voice replied. The smoke drifted into the box, swirling around the Infant Transformation Fruit. “An upper-grade Infant Transformation Fruit… Not bad… This flavor… Alas, just a drop in the ocean…”

The fruit’s scaly skin was slowly corroded by a mysterious force, revealing blue-green flesh within, which shrank steadily as its internal energy was rapidly siphoned away.

A drop of sweat fell from Ye Xin’s nose. He chuckled softly, “As long as it makes you happy.”

In the next instant, an unbelievable scene unfolded. Ye Xin suddenly reached out and slammed the box shut.

Though the smoke was trapped inside, a thin black thread still extended outward, its other end connected to Ye Xin’s brow.

Ye Xin suddenly let out a silent roar. His face shifted from red to pale, then to an ashen blue; cracks appeared at the corners of his eyes, and blood began to flow from his nostrils and ears.

In a heartbeat, Ye Xin’s voiceless roar ceased. He opened his mouth and spat a mouthful of blood; the black thread linking his brow and the smoke snapped with a pop.

Only then did the smoke realize what had happened, abandoning the fruit and battering desperately against the walls of the box.

Ye Xin slid down the agarwood tree, his energy center severely wounded. Agonizing pain sent golden stars flashing before his eyes, forcing him to pause his breathing, but he held on—he could not afford to lose consciousness now, or everything would be lost.

“Ye Xin! What are you doing? Let me out! Let me out!” The aged voice roared, pounding against the box with renewed fury.

“Don’t waste your strength,” Ye Xin replied, struggling. He drew a small knife, turned sideways, and scored the agarwood’s trunk with a dozen cuts, from which milky sap oozed. “This box is made from Absolute Wall Ice Crystal. It blocks all energy fluctuations. For you, it’s a natural prison!”

“Are you mad? What are you trying to do?!” The old man ceased his attack.

“I know what you want to do, though you think I don’t. You know what I want, but you pretend ignorance.” As the pain in his energy center waned, Ye Xin regained control of his body. He replied as he carefully smeared tree sap around the box’s lid, sealing every gap—though he knew the box’s craftsmanship was masterful, sufficient to block the fruit’s energy waves, he dared not be careless.

“For over two years, I have guided and taught you, and this is how you repay me? Ye Xin, you ungrateful wretch!” The old man roared again.

“No one can hide themselves completely. Your thoughts and goals are betrayed by your moods and words. Ordinary people can’t piece the logic together, but professionals can. I am a professional—besides neuroscience, I’ve studied almost every branch of psychology. We’ve been together for two years; you’ve left too many clues.”

“What are you talking about?” The old man grew suddenly calm.

“Still trying to bluff? Fine, I’ll strip away your mask piece by piece.” Ye Xin’s smile grew triumphant. “I want to savor this victory. Truthfully, this win was hard-won. Unlike previous foes, you hid inside my energy center, always ready to take my life. Though my repeated tests showed you couldn’t read my thoughts, I always suspected you were pretending. So I controlled my mind, constantly suppressing the urge to kill you and shifting my attention elsewhere. Two years—do you know what torment that is?”

The old man said nothing; the smoke gradually formed a vague face.

“Much of what you told me doesn’t add up. For example, when you first entered my energy center, you said your power was spent and you needed to pass all your knowledge to me quickly, or else we’d both die. Yet you know the wetlands and ancient forests intimately, and the entanglements of the nine duchies nearby. Whatever the topic, you speak with authority and insight. You claimed you couldn’t leave me, that you’d dissipate if you tried, but where did you get that information? There’s only one possibility—you’ve been here a long time, possessing body after body… I’m just one more. If I die, it means nothing; you’ll find another.”

“I said that to give you confidence!” the old man replied slowly.

“No, you said it to plant a concept in my mind, that we live and die together, so I would trust you completely. But whenever a life asks for unconditional trust, there are always secrets. Honestly, since your first attempt to plant that idea, I haven’t trusted you—not for a moment.”

“You’re too suspicious…” The old man sounded mournful. “Is that reason enough to use such cruel means against me?”

“I’ve tested you many times; you never noticed.” Ye Xin smiled. “Every sign suggests you cannot die. But if you want to continue cultivating, you need a perfect body. You haven’t acted against me because I haven’t broken through to the level of a cultivator—my energy center can’t fully contain your power, so you wait patiently. As for your previous hosts, some lacked talent and couldn’t advance, others died in conflict, so you kept switching until you found me, two years ago, wounded and delirious—a perfect opportunity.”

“Absurd… utterly absurd…” the old man muttered.

“Not absurd at all. How do you think I got injured?” Ye Xin pointed to the scar on his face. “My facial wound was minor, but my leg injury nearly reached the bone. You… paid no attention to my leg, only my face.”

“And what does that prove?” the old man said. “I knew your leg was not serious, and your constitution would heal it quickly.”

“Then why did you rage so fiercely about my face? You cursed me for half an hour. I was the one injured, yet I didn’t care, but you… were overly upset.”

“I was angry because you were careless…”

“Enough.” Ye Xin cut him off. “You’re extremely pleased with my talent—and you like this face, am I right, Zhong Zhengnan?” He emphasized the name with biting force.

“Is that all? You’d use such venomous methods against me?” the old man demanded.

“Of course, that’s not all.” Ye Xin paused, his expression complex, then lowered his voice. “Let me tell you a secret: actually… you and I are the same kind of being. In your terms, I too was reborn by possession…”

“What? What did you say?!” Until now, the old man had been composed, but Ye Xin’s sudden revelation left him utterly shocked.

“And we even come from the same place—hometown fellows…” Ye Xin’s expression grew more conflicted. “Four years ago, I took over this body. It took enormous effort to quell its lingering obsessions. After two years, you squeezed in and told me we lived and died together… Haha… Isn’t it ridiculous?”

“Impossible… Impossible…” The old man’s mind unraveled, refusing to accept it.

“Zhong Kui, Zhong Zhengnan, born in the Tang Dynasty, from Zhongnan Mountain in Shaanxi, went to the capital for exams, failed due to his ugly appearance and killed himself, became a vengeful ghost, and then subsisted on devouring other spirits.” Ye Xin’s voice turned cold. “I once thought it was just a folk legend, but you do exist. This story proves several things: first, your divine power comes from devouring spirits, and thus you can also extract energy from yuan souls; second, you care so much about appearances because you died of ugliness—naturally, you wish to remedy that regret. My face is indeed beautiful, so you cherish it. Third…”

“Enough!” the old man roared, smoke exploding. “Let me out! Let me out…”

Ye Xin sneered, watching the box as the smoke boiled within like scalding water.

After a prolonged struggle, the smoke realized escape was impossible and grew calm.

“Zhong Kui, I never wished to harm you. My endless tests were just to see if I could coexist with you. Unfortunately, you disappointed me again and again.” Ye Xin pointed to the scar on his face. “Your anguish when I was injured proves you’ve already claimed this body as your own—so perfect, you cannot bear its damage. Which means one of us must disappear; this body cannot have two masters. Moreover, the moment I resolved to take the risk, the Zhong family produced this box made of Absolute Wall Ice Crystal—fate itself. If I missed such a chance, I’d be a fool.”

“Ye Xin, you shameless villain!” The old man cried in despair. “For two years I cultivated you with all my heart, withholding nothing, and you repay me with poison. You’re insane…”

“Appealing to morality is useless against me,” Ye Xin said as he drew the knife over the agarwood, slicing a long gash.

He placed the little box beneath the tree, letting drops of sap fall onto its lid.

“What are you doing?” the old man shouted. Then, suddenly realizing something, his despair turned to wild joy. “Ye Xin, you can’t kill me! This ice crystal may imprison me, but it minimizes my energy loss! Wait, Ye Xin—I will get out! Hahaha… and then, I’ll never forgive you, never!”

Ye Xin gave no reply, but continued to coat the box until it was white, the smoke hidden within.

“I’ll tear you to pieces! Not just you, the Ye family will be annihilated! Hahaha…” The old man’s voice was nearly deranged.

“I didn’t want to hurt you further, but since you curse so freely, I should repay you a little.” Ye Xin smiled. “My talent is rare, isn’t it?”

The old man’s tirade abruptly stopped.

“How long do you think it’ll take me to reach the peak of innate warriors and then break through to become a cultivator?” Ye Xin continued calmly. “True, I can’t kill you now—but in ten years? If not ten, then thirty, fifty—I can wait. What can you do, Zhong Kui? Wait here for me… I will return. Agarwood sap conceals all traces; rest assured, until I come back, no human or beast will disturb you.”

Ye Xin paused, then smiled. “Strange—I thought you’d use your powers to beguile and manipulate me. But you seem to have forgotten that this is the one thing that truly pains me: losing you means losing divine power. So perhaps your subconscious knows it’s useless to attack me this way, and ignores it? In other words, after two years’ transformation of my energy center, your divine imprint is already etched there. Even without you, I might absorb others’ yuan souls, right?”

The old man fell silent, perhaps realizing at last what kind of monster he had encountered. Whether Ye Xin spoke or acted, he could glean valuable information; even in silence, Ye Xin could deduce the truth.

Ye Xin set the white box on the ground, then pulled out the cloth bag at his waist and dumped out the little sable. “Time to work, little fellow—dig me a hole, as deep as possible.”

The sable raised its forepaws, its round eyes gazing blankly at Ye Xin, as if to say: What?

“Don’t play dumb.” Ye Xin slapped the sable’s head, the blow so hard it buried half its head in the dirt. “If you don’t dig five meters by nightfall, I’ll roast you!”