Under the subdued glow of the lamps, shadows danced across Tian Hua’s inscrutable countenance. Several tables away, the inebriated patron mumbled to himself, repeatedly quaffing from his jar, his face reddening with each passing moment.

Chen Bo swallowed nervously—it was now or never. To ensure his survival in this precarious situation, he had to reveal everything. He’d sooner endure his uncle’s anger than face the prospect of the monk severing his head.

“Shu had... fallen in love with a cultivator from quite a prominent sect,” he began, adjusting his collar with shaky fingers. “Years ago. She was head over heels for him, always speaking of him and envisioning a future together, until... until she suddenly stopped! And... And...” He suddenly leaned in and whispered. “I think it’s because that cultivator abandoned her for someone else!”

Tian Hua furrowed his brow, stirring unease in Chen Bo. “B, but there’s more to it! Out of nowhere, she began worshiping the Patriarch of the Lands, despite never showing any prior interest in such matters! Never! And, and I believe I know why, my Lord.”

“Why?” asked Tian Hua.

“S, she’s... she’s delving into forbidden arts!” Chen Bo suddenly blurted out, his speech stammered and alarming the nearby drunkard. “I witnessed it myself, my Lord! On a visit to my uncle’s house, one night while he slept, I heard murmurs from another room. With, with a candle in hand, I tiptoed to Shu’s door, pressing my ear against it. That’s when I heard her muttering something, and another voice mumbled in response! Their speech was too low and fast to decipher, but that other voice, my Lord, didn’t sound human!”

“And how do you connect this to her reverence for the Patriarch of the Lands?”

Chen Bo sealed his lips tightly and lowered his head, thumping it against the wooden floor as he prostrated himself. “You are right, my Lord, there is no connection whatsoever! I deeply apologize! The Patriarch of the Lands is the singular and supreme force in this world! He, his… He… Argh, I beg you to spare me, my Lord!”

Watching the fool tremble on the ground, Tian Hua had a suspicion that Chen Bo had misconstrued his words as a threat. This, in turn, deepened his suspicion of the Ziyun Monastery. Provoking such a reaction in someone suggested they had experienced a traumatic event related to the monastery.

Just what did Chen Bo do to have been made an enemy of the Ziyun Monastery? thought Tian Hua, looking at his shaking figure.

Tian Hua exhaled harshly. “When did this happen?”

Chen Bo went still, then lifted his head from the ground, swiftly wiping away his tears and snot. “H, huh?”

“Hearing that other voice. When did that happen?”

“Ah. O, one, uh,” he gulped. “About a year ago. I, I can’t provide the exact date, b, but….”

Tian Hua sank into deep contemplation. If one were to take Chen Bo’s words at face value—of which validity he couldn’t entirely guarantee, as Chen Bo might be fabricating the truth—it suggested that Chen Shu was keeping a veeery significant secret. On the other hand, if Chen Shu was truthful and Chen Bo was merely attempting to deceive him….

Tian Hua had no choice but to evaluate the situation impartially. What more effective method existed for maintaining objectivity than acquiring evidence that could substantiate which of the two was lying?

But again, Chen Bo looks like he’s close to pissing his pants, so why would he lie?

Yet, there was one small detail he earnestly desired to uncover. Therefore, Tian Hua stood up, casting a shadow over Chen Bo’s pallid countenance as he observed the cultivator’s actions with unease.

“Before I go,” he began, “I would like you to explain why you believe there is a correlation between Chen Shu’s abrupt shift in demeanor and her devotion to the Patriarch of the Lands.”

. . . . .

Tian Hua emerged from the inn, clutching his walking stick as he returned to the village. Extracting information from Chen Bo had proven to be both straightforward and challenging; straightforward due to how easily he was deceived, and challenging due to his sobs and stammers, making his words difficult to decipher. Nevertheless, his journey to the village had, for the most part, borne fruit.

Though he was gradually regaining his strength, he still had to take breaks on his way. When he came upon a tree offering welcome shade, Tian Hua made his way over and settled beside its trunk, wiping away his perspiration. The weather was pleasant enough that he contemplated spending a bit more time savoring the scenery.

Tian Hua cast a glance at the road stretching toward the inn, where he observed a few villagers traversing the gravel path, either leaving or entering the village. He recollected the conversation he had with Chen Bo, the words echoing in his mind.

I, it’s just, my Lord, I’ve heard her singing chants dedicated to the Patriarch of the Lands! The same chants the monks use in their rituals! I’ve always wondered—how did she come to know them? Did someone teach her these chants? And then, it struck me! She must be a witch! The kind who abducts children to use their blood— Ah! Why are you glaring at me like that, my Lord?

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Chants? Witch?” mumbled Tian Hua to himself. “It’s like I’m in a horror movie. What’s next? For a zombie or vampire to pop up?”

And remind me why I’m even doing this, he sighed. I don’t even care if she’s a witch or whatnot, but there’s a nagging sensation that if I don’t get involved, something bad will happen. It’s like Chen Shu’s sudden appearance at the sect was an evil omen.

The faint footsteps of an approaching individual abruptly disrupted his train of thought, compelling Tian Hua to fix his gaze on a solitary figure clad in pristine white robes.

“Teacher,” Yang Junchen greeted him in his soft tone.

“Ah, Junchen.” Tian Hua’s gaze shifted to the buckets he held, brimming with what he presumed to be well water. Despite the combined weight, Yang Junchen appeared entirely unfazed, not a bead of sweat in sight.

Yang Junchen stood in place, and neither of them exchanged a word, instantly creating an awkward atmosphere for Tian Hua.

“Are you on your way back to the sect?” he inquired as he reached for his walking stick and gradually stood up. “Where’s Xinyue?”

“I’m not certain. She did mention wanting to reach out to one of her relatives. She said she wished to leave the sect as soon as possible. I’m not sure if she’s doing that right now or something else. Why?”

Yang Junchen’s indifferent delivery of the information made Tian Hua gaze at him with genuine bewilderment. Aren’t they friends? Shouldn’t they be watching each other’s backs? Because I’m pretty sure if the real Tian Hua had known Long Xinyue was planning to run away, he wouldn’t take it well. At all.

Tian Hua started walking toward the village, with Yang Junchen keeping pace but maintaining a slight distance beside him. This made him even more anxious—why was Yang Junchen walking with him? There was no need to act courteous. Or was there a motive? And why the sudden display of friendliness when their previous interactions had been so minimal?

In an attempt to alleviate the unusual atmosphere, Tian Hua cleared his throat and inquired, “Aren’t you quite close to Xinyue?”

“Close? Why would I be close to her?” asked Yang Junchen in response. “Her weakness and immaturity are pathetic.”

Once more, words flowed from Yang Junchen’s lips as if discussing the weather. Tian Hua turned his gaze to Yang Junchen, taking in his poised demeanor, well-coiffed hair, and immaculate robe. The disciple opened his mouth again.

“Friendship is unnecessary in this world, because friends will only betray you in the end. Each individual has their own life goals to pursue, and you are akin to a Go piece, moved at their discretion, often without even realizing it.”

Tian Hua cleared his throat again. Damn, who hurt him?

“Those who betray you aren’t your friends, you’re aware of that, aren’t you? True friends are there to help you in difficult times and provide support,” Tian Hua added. “Friends wouldn’t desert you when facing a blizzard; instead, they'd hold your hand and share their warmth with you. While friendship might be unnecessary, isn’t it more convenient to have a friend to lean on from time to time?”

Tian Hua had always cherished the connections he formed with his students. Over time, many had sought him out to confide their worries and grievances. He was consistently available to provide guidance to the best of his capabilities, even though he, too, was relatively young and inexperienced. In moments like these, Tian Hua offered advice in the manner of an older brother guiding their younger siblings.

“And what do you know?” Yang Junchen’s face grew more serious. “In their eyes, respect comes solely through strength. A friend won’t help you attain the power you desire, especially if it means surpassing them in prowess.”

Sometimes I forget the people in this world have a completely different mentality.

Uncertain of what else to say, Tian Hua fell silent, leaving only the sound of their footsteps and the occasional thud of his stick against the gravel.

. . . . .

By the time they reached the sect, two arduous hours had passed. Tian Hua had little desire to continue their conversation with Yang Junchen on the way, particularly after hearing his perspective on friendship. Likewise, Yang Junchen had no inclination to engage in further dialogue, but he did ask about the Chen Shu situation.

Upon their return, Xiang Jun sat beside some sacks, gazing at a rock. As he heard their approaching footsteps, he glanced up and swiftly bowed.

“A group of men arrived and left these, on behalf of a mysterious woman,” Xiang Jun explained as he gestured toward the sacks. “They are for you, Teacher! I haven’t opened any of them.”

Could it be… Tian Hua’s fingers twitched with anticipation as he quickly approached the sacks.

Yet, under the weight of the two disciples’ scrutinizing glances fixed on him and the sacks, he opted to delay opening them in their presence. While Tian Hua was aware that Long Xinyue and possibly Xiang Jun had glimpsed his alchemy cauldron, they remained unaware of its true purpose, and Tian Hua desired to keep it that way, at least for the time being.

Grabbing one of the sacks, Tian Hua started pulling them one by one toward his dwelling, pleased to discover how lightweight they were.

“Um, Senior Brother Yang,” Tian Hua overheard Xiang Jun say as he was hauling a sack. “Have you seen Senior Sister Long?”

“No.”

“But… But didn’t she leave with you?”

“She did. I left to fetch spring water when I came down, and she headed in a different direction.”

“Oh… So….”

With the conversation ending rather abruptly, Tian Hua opted not to linger and withdrew to his dwelling, with all the sacks now in his possession. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he carefully untied the sacks, unveiling their precious contents.

“Huh…” He frowned and examined each and every one of them again and again.

Among the herbs, Tian Hua discovered only Yang Dandelions and Vanilla Orchids, along with their respective seeds. If his memory served him right, these two were among the most prevalent magical herbs on his list. Perhaps the rarer herbs would arrive at a later time, as they might not be as readily available.

But this is definitely great news! I can try refining Rejuvenating Pills!

While it was convenient to carry a supply of Rejuvenating Pills at all times, Tian Hua recognized that, given his current condition, he could, at most, refine a dozen Rejuvenating Pills without depleting his energy. After all, his body still felt weak.

He retrieved the cauldron concealed beneath a stack of old robes and, following the recipe from memory, placed three Yang Dandelions and one Vanilla Orchid inside.

It’s time.