First day of lying in state.

Wei Xun’s corpse was covered in blood, only his face remained clean—washed by Bao Zhu’s tears. Shisan Lang lifted the tattered clothing and saw the body was a bloody mess, tendons severed and bones broken. His eye sockets couldn’t help but redden.

He firmly remembered his mission, carefully wiping the corpse, striving to handle every funeral matter properly for his senior brother.

During this time, he discovered that the dark blue-black meridians that had originally covered Wei Xun’s entire body had become extremely faint, almost invisible. The cloth used for washing was stained with blackened blood. Shisan Lang knew that after death, wounds and blood would change color, but calculating from the time of death, the change shouldn’t have been so rapid.

Perhaps it was because senior brother was afflicted with a strange illness, Shisan Lang thought. Such complete escape from the sea of suffering, sparing him from piecemeal torture in this world of fire, was not a bad outcome.

Second day of lying in state.

The corpse was properly cleaned, changed into plain clothing, and wrapped in thick white hemp cloth. Wei Xun’s posthumous appearance was peaceful and dignified. Bao Zhu returned from scouting the terrain and held him crying for a long while.

Shisan Lang wanted to speak but hesitated—according to folk funeral customs, relatives must restrain their grief and hold back tears before the coffining. It was said that tears from the living were extremely heavy for the soul; if tears fell on the corpse, the spirit would be trapped by obsession and unable to reincarnate or ascend to heaven.

But seeing her cry until her heart broke and her liver was torn to pieces, he ultimately couldn’t bring himself to say these words.

Third day of lying in state.

The vigil-keeping Shisan Lang noticed another abnormality: Wei Xun’s corpse had not developed rigor mortis. Initially, he thought it was because torture had caused severed tendons and broken bones, making the limbs soft.

The coin placed in Wei Xun’s mouth was a gold tongbao. Since their entire sect consisted of tomb raiders, Shisan Lang knew this was a tempting burial object. Fearing someone might steal it, he deliberately pried open the mouth to check. He discovered that Wei Xun’s jaw muscles were also soft, and there was even some moisture in the oral cavity.

He couldn’t help but wonder—was his experience too limited? Did corpse changes not occur the same way for everyone? Or was it because senior brother, being a supreme martial artist with extraordinary constitution, destined to have a corpse different from ordinary people?

Fourth day of lying in state.

The princess, having thought of some strategy, left with many people to carry out a mission. Shisan Lang remained behind to recover from his injuries and keep vigil. In the bitter cold, food spoiled slowly, and the corpse showed no external changes or foul odor.

To facilitate moving the body during coffining, a sheet needed to be laid out. When Shisan Lang moved Wei Xun’s corpse, he was shocked to discover that the white hemp cloth on his back had seeped with spots of dark red.

That wasn’t corpse fluid—it was fresh blood!

All the strange occurrences connected, and Shisan Lang realized something was wrong. He hastily tore open the burial shroud and saw that after the black blood from the wounds had drained, fresh blood began seeping out. Shisan Lang immediately reached to feel the neck side and wrist pulse, holding his breath and waiting quietly.

After a long while, his fingertips detected a trace of barely perceptible weak pulse.

Shisan Lang was dumbstruck: Senior brother wasn’t completely dead!

Wei Xun was originally a tomb-raiding expert, most skilled at breath-holding techniques. His pulse was normally much slower than ordinary people’s. Combined with his pale complexion and ice-cold body temperature, when lying with closed eyes, he would most likely be mistaken for a corpse. During his lifetime, he often used this method to play tricks on people. This time, it seemed he had fallen into a turtle-breath feigned death state due to severe injuries and unconsciousness.

Shisan Lang’s martial arts were still shallow—he lacked the ability to transfer internal energy to others. He jumped onto the mourning bed and continuously massaged and pressed Wei Xun’s chest, repeatedly working on his Baihui, Neiguan, Hegu, Yongquan and other acupoints.

After an unknown amount of time, Wei Xun’s head tilted, spitting out the gold tongbao from his mouth. His abdomen now showed faint breathing movements.

Overjoyed, Shisan Lang hurried to light a fire and heat soup, following the method Wei Xun had used to care for Bao Zhu, attempting rescue.

That night, Wei Xun’s consciousness gradually returned. Looking at his junior brother’s busy activity in confusion, he asked with a voice like gossamer: “Are you dead too?”

The child’s delighted face leaned over: “Senior brother isn’t completely dead! Thanks to Jiu Niang insisting on a seven-day lying in state, or you would have been buried alive.”

There was plenty of military rations in the camp. Shisan Lang tore flatbread into fragments, added milk fat, and cooked it into thin porridge to feed him, while chattering about how Prince Shao had sent troops to rescue the princess from Fenglong Temple, reassuring him.

“When Jiu Niang returns and learns you’re not dead, imagine how happy she’ll be!”

“Can’t tell her…” Wei Xun weakly prevented him.

Whether ordinary person or martial expert, with all tendons and bones shattered and such severe trauma, not only would martial arts be completely ruined, but one might never stand or walk again.

Shisan Lang thought he was acting out of pride, not wanting Bao Zhu to know, and hurriedly said: “Not to mention your disability—even if senior brother lost all four limbs, Jiu Niang would still love you very, very much. She’d take you to Youzhou and care for you properly, with no worries about food or drink.”

“I know.” Wei Xun’s eyes conjured her tear-streaked appearance as he said intermittently: “I deceived her… Master’s prescription… cannot cure the root… do you have the heart to let her… be heartbroken again?”

Shisan Lang was stunned. Before Zhou Qingyang’s retirement, she had only spoken privately with Wei Xun. Everyone had optimistically believed she possessed miraculous healing abilities, never imagining Wei Xun would lie.

Although he had luckily survived, he would ultimately still die from illness. Dying again in such a miserable state in her arms, through great joy and great sorrow, her beautiful hair might turn completely white.

“Someone came to receive her. Our promise… is fulfilled…” Wei Xun said hoarsely.

The senior and junior brothers fell silent for a long time. Shisan Lang realized the journey was ending here—he would be responsible for taking the severely injured Wei Xun away. Thinking they must part from Jiu Niang, he couldn’t help sobbing.

Wei Xun turned his head, watching the child weep, wanting to reach out but unable to move. Trying to circulate qi also proved futile due to his severe injuries.

“Senior brother… cough cough…” Wei Xun forced out a broken smile despite the pain. “According to our martial ranking convention, now I should call you Senior Brother Shanyuan.”

Shisan Lang was wiping tears with his sleeve when he was amused, caught between crying and laughing, saying awkwardly: “In this condition, senior brother still has the mood to joke!”

“Not joking.” Wei Xun said feebly. “Since master is already dead, please teach me the Prajna Repentance, senior brother.”

Shisan Lang was stunned, made an “ah” sound, then suddenly understood.

When newcomers entered Canyang Academy, the first task was choosing the foundational internal arts path. The qi circulation method of Prajna Repentance was completely different from the Mysterious Qi Innate Skill—except for Chen Shigu, no one could cultivate both.

As a martial art, Prajna Repentance had slow power and effectiveness. But once one began practicing, it immediately improved constitution and accelerated healing. Practiced deeply, it had miraculous effects of transforming tendons and cleansing marrow, complete rebirth. Even with fatal injuries, as long as one breath remained, self-healing was always possible.

With Wei Xun’s martial arts now completely lost, a blank slate, learning this skill from scratch for healing was an excellent self-rescue method.

Shisan Lang immediately jumped up, calling: “I’ll go borrow writing materials from Secretary Yang right away!”

Using copying sutras for prayers as his excuse, he borrowed brush, ink, paper and inkstone, wrote down the mental cultivation method from memory, and explained it sentence by sentence to Wei Xun. Prajna Repentance was a supreme martial art left by the Tianzhu monk Kayashiya—originally a compassionate Buddhist sutra for saving people. Even placed openly on the table, no one would suspect.

Sixth day of lying in state.

Wei Xun had practiced martial arts since childhood with deep foundations, and was an unparalleled genius—drawing inferences from examples, making connections between different things, progressing a hundred times faster than ordinary people. After practicing the mental method for two days, his abdominal penetrating wound already showed signs of healing. The speed was so fast that even he was secretly amazed.

Shisan Lang found the prescription Zhou Qingyang had left behind. The warriors who came to rescue Bao Zhu disguised themselves as medicine merchants for cover—except for “phoenix embryo,” ninety percent of the other ingredients could be found in their wagons.

“Even lacking one or two ingredients, Master’s prescription should have some benefit if taken. I’ll get some to brew medicine.”

Wei Xun firmly refused: “No. Your injuries don’t require medicine. If she smells medicinal herbs, she’ll surely become suspicious.”

Shisan Lang hesitated briefly, then had an inspiration: “If Jiu Niang becomes suspicious, I’ll say you’re starting to smell and need bitter medicine to mask the odor—that explanation would work.”

Wei Xun sighed. She had always been fastidious about cleanliness; using corpse stench to deceive might make her accept the facts and give up hope.

The camp was empty—except for the severely injured Yang Xingjian, everyone else had gone to battle. Shisan Lang secretly obtained herbs and, according to the prescription’s recorded dosages, brewed the juice and helped Wei Xun drink it. When touching his skin, Shisan Lang couldn’t help exclaiming “Eh?”

“Strange, after dying once, you’re actually not as ice-cold anymore.”

Reminded by him, Wei Xun realized that although his external injuries were agonizing, since regaining consciousness, the bone-deep chill that had accompanied his growth had mostly disappeared. Recalling before he lost consciousness, when Bao Zhu had held him tightly while crying, he had felt warm then too, thinking it was a dying hallucination.

Shisan Lang said: “Jiu Niang won’t listen to advice and insists on avenging everyone before the seventh day. When she returns victorious and holds you crying again, I can’t explain why a dead person is warm.”

Wei Xun sighed helplessly: “She’s now full of underworld slang, with more jianghu atmosphere than you. Fortunately I’m already ‘dead’—otherwise arriving in Youzhou, I truly wouldn’t know how to explain to her brother.”

Shisan Lang felt quite regretful about his own cherished dreams, but with senior brother severely injured and disabled, compared to caring for him, he could only cast those thoughts aside.

Seventh day of lying in state.

“Today is your seventh day and my eighteenth birthday. Previously you always took enemy heads—this time it’s my turn.”

Wei Xun closed his eyes feigning death, listening to Bao Zhu’s weary murmur, smelling the heavy corpse stench and bloody odor from her body.

He forcibly suppressed the urge to rise and embrace her, having also lost the ability to reach out and hold her. She had obtained the enemy’s head, endured all suffering, ended the hatred—she could let go of obsession now.

Wei Xun repeatedly recited silently: Let go, let go. Being able to travel this journey with you is already the most beautiful gift fate could give me.

Bao Zhu ultimately didn’t come to caress the corpse and weep bitterly—revenge had exhausted all her strength.

Shisan Lang alone handled senior brother’s “coffining” affairs. He had originally planned to secretly dig up the grave after the coffin was buried. Unexpectedly, the princess insisted on taking the coffin along, so he had to follow all the way supporting the hearse, secretly caring for Wei Xun.

The group finally reached their original destination: Youzhou. When lying in state at Minzhong Temple, Shisan Lang finally found the opportunity to steal senior brother’s “corpse.”

Upon leaving, Wei Xun left the dagger in the coffin, taking only Bao Zhu’s handwritten elegiac couplet. The Fish Intestine Sword was a symbol of Canyang Academy’s leader—neither wanted this weapon to fall into others’ hands.

In the twilight, Shisan Lang placed Wei Xun in a rattan chair and carried him toward the vast Taihang Mountains.

Zhou Qingyang was gathering dried herbs, preparing to pack and leave the base, when her mount Jindan suddenly scraped the ground with its front hooves and whinnied uneasily twice. She alertly drew her wood-cutting knife. There were tigers in the mountains, and wolves too. Of course, humans were still the most fearsome.

“Jindan? Is that you, Master?”

The familiar childish voice made her slightly relax. Zhou Qingyang pushed through concealing shrubs and emerged, seeing Shisan Lang carrying Wei Xun on his back, appearing among the mountains drenched in sweat.

Zhou Qingyang tucked the wood knife at her waist. “How did you find me?”

Shisan Lang answered while panting: “Donkey dung balls.”

Zhou Qingyang frowned and approached to examine Wei Xun, seeing his limbs limp and powerless. She touched and felt his tendons and bones, her expression grave. Untying the securing rope, she carried him horizontally into the mountain cave dwelling and placed him on a bamboo bed.

“These aren’t injuries from fighting. What happened?”

Wei Xun forced out a bitter smile: “Bad luck. After a thousand days as a thief, one careless mistake—beaten half to death.”

Zhou Qingyang opened his clothing to examine the wounds, knowing this was from severe torture. After carefully checking his pulse, she was filled with doubts.

He was indeed severely injured, but the grayish mist that had previously shrouded his face had dissipated. His death appearance had changed—fate decreed he shouldn’t die.

Shisan Lang hurriedly asked: “Can the tendons and bones be reconnected? My needlework is too poor, and senior brother lacks hand strength—the severed tendons never align properly.”

“Bone setting and tendon suturing are minor matters.” Zhou Qingyang asked puzzledly: “Feeling your pulse, the cold poison terminal illness has gone ninety percent. In such a short time, you’ve already been to Youzhou and caught the ‘phoenix embryo’ to eat?”

Both senior and junior brothers were startled and completely confused.

Wei Xun detailed his ambush in Chengde, followed by severe injuries, blood loss, and unconscious feigned death.

Zhou Qingyang placed her hand on his wrist pulse, thinking deeply, her expression increasingly puzzled, as if she’d never seen such complex disease changes.

After a long while, she spoke: “Let me sort through the process. The jailer spoke truly—people with severe blood loss indeed cannot drink clear water. Water is lighter than blood. Those who’ve lost blood suffer extreme thirst from massive fluid loss, but drinking water afterward actually accelerates blood loss, causing rapid death. This was probably experience they observed from daily torture.

At that time, wounds should be immediately bandaged to stop bleeding, using salt water, thick soup, and other liquids heavier than blood to quench thirst. That young lady feeding you tears was accidentally correct—tears are salty.”

She pointed to the torture marks on Wei Xun’s body: “These various small wounds, combined with the abdominal penetrating injury, forced out the poisoned blood from all limbs and bones. Then, the Shangdang ginseng you’d previously eaten for treatment had its medicinal properties suppressed in the dantian energy center. When dying and unable to control it, the medicinal properties naturally dispersed, sustaining your breath and causing the feigned death state.”

Wei Xun suddenly understood: “No wonder in that moment before losing consciousness, I actually felt warm.”

“But this doesn’t explain why the terminal illness was cured.” Zhou Qingyang said. “That previous pill could only alleviate symptoms. Surviving near-death from severe injuries was good luck, but having the chronic illness also disappear without trace truly baffles me.”

Shisan Lang hurriedly said: “I gathered all the herbs from Master’s prescription except phoenix embryo and gave senior brother several doses.”

Zhou Qingyang snorted: “Missing the most important sovereign medicine, having only minister and assistant medicines—isn’t that pointless busy work? There must be some crucial factor I don’t know about.”

Shisan Lang anxiously asked: “But the illness is cured! Senior brother won’t die from disease in the future, right?”

Zhou Qingyang sighed: “Can only say fate decreed he shouldn’t die—somehow inexplicably retrieved a cat’s life from the King of Hell. Your master had a bitter fate, and you’re not much better, but it’s better than nothing.”

Wei Xun remained silent for a while, recalling the old matter at Chanming Temple, then suddenly smiled: “Once a person of great fortune promised to give me one-tenth of her luck. Seems it was already sufficient.”

“I know what happened.” Shisan Lang said excitedly, eyes burning hot, to Wei Xun: “Tears are very heavy. Jiu Niang shed so many tears, she forcibly kept your soul in the mortal world.”

Although never fully comprehending the mystery, the injuries still needed treatment. Zhou Qingyang used datura to prepare anesthetic powder, knocked Wei Xun unconscious, then applied her life’s supreme skills to reconnect his bones and suture tendons.

Combined with Prajna Repentance’s miraculous tendon-transforming and marrow-cleansing effects, Wei Xun’s injuries improved at tremendous speed, and his martial power gradually returned.

After this strange encounter, having reopened the twelve main meridians and eight extraordinary vessels, Wei Xun became the only person after Chen Shigu to cultivate both Mysterious Qi Innate Skill and Prajna Repentance supreme martial arts. Free from his chronic illness, reborn, like withered trees meeting spring—in another two or three years, no one on earth could reach his level. An accidental severe injury had become an opportunity for martial breakthrough.

Zhou Qingyang watched coldly, seeing his daily progress differed from the previous day, thinking that all four people of her generation had already fallen and been buried. In the end, the one inheriting Barefoot Taoist’s cultivation was this hard-fated grand-disciple. And the only person in the world capable of breaking Barefoot Taoist’s prophecy was him alone.

Only without life-threatening urgency pressing the wildcat, junior brother’s notion of “exterminating rats to prove the Way” would be difficult to realize.

Shisan Lang daily served Master diligently, fetching water and chopping wood. Seeing her constantly organizing luggage, he asked if she was relocating.

Zhou Qingyang said irritably: “Don’t know why recently there have been unfamiliar faces in the mountains making inquiries everywhere—don’t know what enemies they are. If not for you two little ghosts interfering, I would have moved deeper already. Secluded from the world, coming out whenever called—do they think I’m some on-call tavern keeper?”

Wei Xun emerged from the cave, smiling at her: “Master, rest assured and be a free cloud and wild crane. I just met a young expert whose ‘medical skills’ are somewhat superior to yours—perhaps this person can cure stubborn human ailments that you cannot.”

Zhou Qingyang flew into rage, picked up a piece of firewood and threw it at him, cursing: “Ungrateful dog whelp! Scabby cat the King of Hell won’t accept! Since there are other miracle doctors, why do you shamelessly pester me? You should die in front of that person instead! I should have tied your cheap paws backwards and let you favor outsiders!”

Wei Xun caught the “hidden weapon” with a smile, muttering to himself: Indeed did die once in front of her.

Two months later, after settling miscellaneous affairs, the senior and junior brothers bid farewell to Taoist Qingyang and descended the mountain together, unanimously gazing toward Youzhou.

Shisan Lang said expectantly: “Since the illness is cured, can we go back? Maybe if she flicks my forehead hard a few times, this matter will pass, and I’ll still have hope of continuing as the princess’s monk. Senior brother, you… should consider disemboweling to show your sincerity.”

Wei Xun gazed at the flowing clouds on the horizon, his thoughts a hundred times more complex than his junior brother’s.

Yang Xingjian’s words still echoed in his ears. She had returned to her own world—one life for one life, neither owing the other. Why disturb her again?

Not to mention whether she could forgive his departure without notice through feigned death, Wei Xun harbored secret thoughts he couldn’t share with his junior brother: along with martial arts, an even more powerful inner demon had returned.

The person had been sent back safely, yet he harbored growing delusions: to steal the pearl once more, hide it away forever, and never return it again.

Author’s Note: Bao Zhu’s character stats panel shows luck as 10. Since the cap is 10, as someone with heavenly mandate, removing limits would actually be ∞.

Giving Wei Da one-tenth, his pitiful 1 point becomes 10 points directly.

Shisan Lang briefly served as senior brother to the Blue Shirt Guest, reaching martial peak as well.