CHAPTER 62

Potential Disciple

LUO FAN

The morning passed in uneasy silence after Ruan Yanjun left to consult an alchemist about the Dual Bloom and the mysterious flower we had taken from the old man. Though still recovering, I could tell his decision to stay in Baixu City for three days was as much for my benefit as it was to ensure we had time to gather information.

I busied myself tidying the small room, trying not to let my thoughts wander too far. The scent of medicinal herbs lingered faintly in the air, and I couldn’t help but feel the echo of my qi slowly stabilizing. Just as I was adjusting the bed linens, a sharp knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

Assuming it was an inn staff member, I opened the door without hesitation. The instant I did, dark smoke billowed over me, choking and burning my senses. My vision blurred, and before I could react, the world went black.

When I awoke, my wrists and ankles were bound tightly against a cold stone pillar. The coarse ropes digging into my skin weren’t ordinary—they were strands of human hair.

Panic surged through me as I realized the horrifying truth. These weren’t just hair ropes. They pulsed faintly with spiritual energy, as if alive.

I took a shaky breath and lifted my gaze, only to find the room around me was even more horrifying. The ceilings and walls were adorned with curtains of human hair, their strands swaying lightly, as if moved by an invisible breeze. Scalps—dried, shrunken, and grotesque—were still attached to many of them. A sour taste filled my mouth as I tried to suppress my revulsion.

I froze in horror as memories from my journey with Ruan Yanjun surfaced—images of countless victims we had encountered, their scalps gruesomely stripped while they were still alive, left to perish in agony. Ruan Yanjun had suspected the heinous acts were the work of a deranged man named Xie Lianyu, infamously known as "The Thread Reaper."

The very name "Thread Reaper" struck terror into the hearts of both cultivators and mortals. It spoke not only to Xie Lianyu’s unparalleled mastery of spiritual weaving but also to his gruesome practice of harvesting hair to create his deadly artifacts. Cultivators described him as a reaper who spun death from threads, leaving behind a trail of scalped victims, their vitality drained to fuel his dark creations.

The thought that my captor might be The Thread Reaper sent an icy shiver down my spine. Did he want my hair too? Most of his victims had simply been stripped of what he desired and left to die in agony.

But why would he go through the trouble of abducting me, tying me up, and leaving my scalp and hair untouched? What could he possibly want beyond that?

I wondered if Ruan Yanjun had realized I was missing yet, or if he had any clue where to begin searching for me.

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed ominously. My heart pounded as the door creaked open.

What entered wasn’t the monster I had expected but a tall, well-dressed man with sharp features and a calm, composed demeanor. His dark robes, embroidered with intricate silver thread, contrasted against his strikingly handsome face. His hair was pulled back into a sleek style, falling in a curtain behind him. For a moment, I blinked, struggling to reconcile this immaculate figure with the horrifying legend of the Thread Reaper.

“Priest Luo,” the man greeted smoothly, his voice low and rich. “I trust you find your accommodations... comfortable.”

I squinted at him, confusion and familiarity warring in my mind. That voice—where had I heard it before?

“My name is Wang Bei,” he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Sect Leader of the Silent Eclipse Sect.”

My breath caught.

Wang Bei.

Of course. I knew him. This was the man who had foolishly challenged Ruan Yanjun in a restaurant more than a year ago. From what I’d heard, Ruan Yanjun had humiliated him thoroughly but spared his life, which I could only assume was an act of disdainful mercy. This wasn’t even the first time Wang Bei had sought to fight Ruan Yanjun. Every challenge ended the same way, with defeat and survival granted solely by Ruan Yanjun’s whim.

“Did you abduct me to lure Sect Leader Ruan here so you can challenge him again?” I asked, my voice steady despite the growing dread in my chest.

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Wang Bei’s brows lifted slightly, a flash of surprise crossing his face before he chuckled darkly. “Oh, you’re sharp. I can see why the Devil of the South keeps you close. But no, Priest Luo, this isn’t entirely my doing. I’m merely... facilitating things. If Sect Leader Ruan doesn’t come for you, however, Xie Lianyu might take his reward.”

My stomach twisted. My scalp.

“I don’t know what Lord Ruan has done to you,” I said, forcing calm into my voice, “but you must be truly desperate to align yourself with a madman like the Thread Reaper.”

Wang Bei’s smirk widened. “What Lord Ruan has done to me isn’t your concern. Suffice it to say, it’s unforgivable, and I will have my revenge. Even if it means working with someone like Xie Lianyu.”

As if summoned by his name, another figure entered the room. My breath hitched.

Xie Lianyu was tall and slender, his movements unnervingly graceful as he stepped into the dim light. His long, jet-black hair trailed behind him like an ominous shadow, streaked with strands of varying colors—trophies from his victims.

Crimson eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, their eerie light cutting through the gloom like embers in a dying fire. His robes shimmered with silver and gold embroidery, their tangled web-like designs giving the impression of a predator’s lair.

His aura suffocated the air around him, heavy and cloying like silk wrapping tightly around my throat.

The sight of him was worse than anything I could have imagined. He was terrifying, not because of his grotesque surroundings, but because of the beauty that masked his cruelty.

And then he smiled.

A chill coursed down my spine. It wasn’t a smile of kindness but of possession, a predator gazing at its prey.

*****

RUAN YANJUN

The note left on my bed had been terse, its handwriting hasty and deliberate. I stared at it for a long moment before slipping it into my robe and leaving the inn. The location it mentioned was remote—an abandoned ruin far from the bustle of Baixu City.

My heart clenched at the thought of what might have happened to Luo Fan, but I forced myself to stay calm. Fear and anger would do him no good if I lost focus.

The mansion came into view just as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows over its decaying facade. The place bore the marks of past tragedy, with charred wood, crumbling stone, and an eerie silence that spoke of a once-thriving community reduced to ash. Only this mansion remained intact, its looming structure serving as a grim monument to the catastrophe that had befallen this place.

Whoever had taken Luo Fan wanted me here. That much was clear. But the why remained a mystery. The possibilities churned in my mind, and none of them were comforting.

I leapt over the dilapidated courtyard gate, my boots landing silently on the cracked stone below. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, and my voice cut through it like a blade.

"This venerable one has arrived," I announced, the authority in my tone reverberating through the stillness. "Show yourself."

For a long moment, nothing stirred. Then, with a groan that echoed like a sigh from the past, the front doors creaked open. From the darkness stepped a figure I recognized immediately, his smirk as infuriating as ever.

“Wang Bei,” I said with a sigh. “How many times must I break your bones before you understand you’ll never win?”

“As long as I live,” Wang Bei snarled, his fists clenching tightly at his sides. A blue flame erupted around his knuckles, crackling like a living entity. “I’ll face you again and again, until the day I crush you beneath my feet!”

I gave him a flat look. “You can’t even warm my tea with that fire, let alone defeat me.”

With a roar, he lunged. His fists blazed with blue flame as he swung at me, the heat distorting the air. I dodged effortlessly, stepping to the side as his punch cracked the stone where I’d been standing. He followed with a spinning kick, the fire trailing behind him like a whip.

Still, I didn’t bother attacking. Instead, I danced around him, studying his movements. “You’ve gotten faster since the last time,” I commented lightly. “Still sloppy, though. Too much rage. It blinds you.”

“Shut up!” Wang Bei roared, thrusting both hands forward. A wave of blue flame surged toward me, the courtyard erupting in light and heat.

I leapt into the air, somersaulting over the flames, and landed behind him. Before he could react, I struck—my palm glowing faintly with controlled qi as I pressed it against his back. The force of the blow sent him sprawling, skidding across the stone until he hit the courtyard wall with a grunt.

Wang Bei struggled to his feet, his flames sputtering. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes burned with defiance.

“Still standing?” I raised an eyebrow. “Impressive. Most would have fled by now.”

“You haven’t seen the last of me,” he snarled, his fists reigniting.

I sighed, stepping forward to end this. With a twist of my body, I dodged his wild punch and grabbed his wrist, twisting it sharply. His flames extinguished with a pained grunt, and I swept his legs out from under him, slamming him onto his back.

“Give up, Wang Bei,” I said, my voice calm but firm. “You’re no match for me.”

He glared up at me, hatred and humiliation warring in his eyes. “Why don’t you just kill me and be done with it?”

I shook my head, a low chuckle escaping my lips. “As much as I might want to, I find you oddly entertaining. That fire in your eyes, that unyielding defiance—it’s almost commendable.” I knelt beside him, my gaze piercing. “But there’s another reason. I see potential in you, Wang Bei. With proper guidance, you could ascend to the eighth level of cultivation, a feat unmatched in this age. Perhaps even immortality.”

His breath hitched, but his glare didn’t falter. “Are you offering to train me?” he spat.

I smiled faintly. “Join my sect, and I will make you my fifth disciple. I’ll train you personally, mold you into a cultivator worthy of the heavens. Or...” I tilted my head, “you can continue this futile game, challenging me only to be defeated every time.”

Wang Bei’s lips curled into a smirk, blood staining his teeth. “I’d rather die than serve you, Ruan Yanjun.”

I straightened with a sigh. “Suit yourself. But when you’re ready to stop being a fool, you know where to find me.”

Leaving him in the dirt, I turned toward the mansion. Luo Fan’s absence weighed on me. Somewhere in this accursed place, he was waiting for me.