Volume One: All Things Awaken, Four Seasons Become Spring Chapter Forty-Six: Zhou Sheng’s Conversion—Descent into Madness and Demonic Obsession

Zhao Tiansheng’s teasing voice drifted from within the small pavilion. Seeing Mo Wen hesitate for a long time, he made the decision on his behalf.

Mo Wen laughed at himself. He was already at his teacher’s house—what pride was there left to preserve? He strode into the building.

Zhao Tiansheng was tending to the flowers and plants on the windowsill, not bothering to turn around. He spoke with a detached calm, “Say what you want to say, ask what you want to ask. Don’t beat around the bush. If you’ve nothing to say, get lost.”

Zhao Tiansheng’s forthright manner emboldened Mo Wen. Since uncovering the Buddhist sect’s conspiracy, Mo Wen found himself admiring Zhao Tiansheng all the more.

“Teacher, I want to give up the Buddhist inner breath and start cultivating anew!” Mo Wen’s tone was resolute.

Zhao Tiansheng was taken aback. He turned, looking at Mo Wen with interest. “The Daoist Master taught you this, didn’t he?”

Mo Wen did not deny it. Zhao Tiansheng sighed, his expression growing serious. “My path isn’t for you. My sword’s heart is fated to be solitary. You must seek your own road.”

Mo Wen grew somber, but he understood. Ever since his teacher’s wife had died, Zhao Tiansheng had remained alone for more than a decade, silently enduring solitude—his sword’s heart was the same. But Mo Wen had Lin Xi; how could he ever let go?

Thinking of Lin Xi stirred something tender deep within Mo Wen, and a faint smile unconsciously curved his lips.

Setting that matter aside for now, Mo Wen composed himself and recounted all that had happened on his journey to Wudang. Though Zhao Tiansheng kept tending to his flowers, the slight tremble of his hands betrayed his emotions.

The Buddhist sect had colluded with the uncanny!

Suddenly, Zhao Tiansheng’s heart was clear. Years ago, when the woman he loved had died unexpectedly, all clues had pointed to a Buddhist disciple at Cloud Summit. In a rage, Zhao Tiansheng had slaughtered the disciples of Cloud Summit and Broken Illusion, swearing to exterminate the Buddhist sect. Surrounded and outnumbered, he was only saved when Lin Wudao himself intervened and stopped the fighting. From that moment, Zhao Tiansheng and Lin Tianzi, one of the seven sons of the Lin family, had forged a deep brotherhood.

“Teacher, what is a Child of the Domain?” Mo Wen’s mind dwelled on the matter—it concerned both his own origins and the whereabouts of Lady Zhao.

But to his disappointment, Zhao Tiansheng shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I have never heard of such a thing. But the Buddhist sect has a long and ancient history—they surely know secrets others do not. Be careful. The Buddhists will not let matters rest.”

Although disappointed, Mo Wen still gave Zhao Tiansheng a respectful bow before taking his leave after a brief silence.

Lin Xi was not in the magic capital, and Lady Zhao’s fate was uncertain. After seeing Zhao Tiansheng, Mo Wen felt even more like a stranger in this city, out of place and ill at ease.

As the city’s lights flickered on, the night of this alluring metropolis beckoned. With hands in his pockets, Mo Wen wandered aimlessly, not knowing where to go. He dared not return to Ziyuan, for fear that the sight of familiar things would only make him miss familiar faces all the more.

Suddenly, a thought struck him—Zhou Sheng. What had become of Zhou Sheng, now beset by the uncanny?

Familiar with the journey, Mo Wen took a flight to southern Hunan. By the following morning, after two more hours by car, he once again stood at the foot of Mount Heng.

Ascending the mountain, he reached the familiar cliffside halfway up, a few hundred meters below the summit of Mount Zhuyong. Treading on withered branches and fallen leaves, he cried out, “Big Serpent, I’ve come again!”

Hearing the provocative call of a human, the great serpent roared, appearing at once, its manner fierce—until it recognized Mo Wen, and its bravado instantly deflated.

It was this human again!

“Big Serpent, how is my companion? Take me to him.” The serpent said nothing, turning to glide deeper into the gorge. Mo Wen followed closely. It was the same earthen cave as before. Following the serpent inside, Mo Wen at last saw that familiar figure again.

Zhou Sheng looked much better than last time, the uncanny substance upon him visibly diminished. Seeing Mo Wen, he was overjoyed—but as soon as Zhou Sheng spoke, Mo Wen’s heart plunged.

“Benefactor, you have come. This humble monk thanks you for leading me to the Buddhist path. This uncanny matter—I will surely subdue it in time. Please do not worry.”

Mo Wen’s heart twisted in pain. He looked in disbelief at his old schoolmate, not hearing the familiar “Mo Zi!” Instead, he was addressed as benefactor.

Mo Wen did not know whether to regret or rejoice. He had tried to save Zhou Sheng by teaching him the Buddhist inner cultivation technique—but it was precisely because of this that Zhou Sheng had entered the Buddhist fold.

“Boss Zhou, have you forgotten? Your mother still waits for you at the foot of Mount Emei! How can you sever all mortal ties and become a monk?”

Mo Wen tried to awaken the last trace of Zhou Sheng’s true heart, but Zhou Sheng only shook his head serenely. “Benefactor, birth, aging, illness, and death are all determined by fate. These things cannot be forced.”

Mo Wen’s heart sank into despair and, suddenly, he burst into wild, mad laughter.

“Well, well, well! What a Buddhist sect! I will never share the same sky with you!”

With that, he ignored Zhou Sheng, leaped out of the cave, and, using his sword to aid him, bounded up the cliff in a few swift movements.

Sword in hand, Mo Wen raced toward the peak of Mount Zhuyong. His mind was in turmoil, filled with only a single thought—to slaughter every Buddhist disciple!

“Wumo, bald donkey, come out and die!”

Outside the Hall of Zhuyong, Mo Wen’s eyes were blood-red, his entire being radiating murderous intent as he shouted.

“Benefactor, you have already fallen into madness. Calm your mind and let this old monk relieve your worries.”

Master Wumo appeared. Seeing Mo Wen’s state, he was taken aback, murmuring Buddhist mantras and reciting a calming spell.

“Kill!” Mo Wen did not answer. With a flourish of his sword, his innate sword technique scattered like a storm of petals, sword energy whirling toward Master Wumo.

Master Wumo pressed his palms together and thrust forward, blocking the sword energy and forming a tense standoff.

Sword energy swept like a gale, raising clouds of dust. With every strike, Mo Wen fought as if his life depended on it, each blow aimed to kill Master Wumo.

At last, Master Wumo circled his palms before his chest, unleashing a blast of pure force. Mo Wen’s sword could not withstand it; he staggered back, step by step.

By instinct, Mo Wen sheathed his sword-dog into its case, gathering the Buddhist inner breath into his fists.

Starlit River Second Form: Within Heaven and Earth!

With both fists, he poured out all his remaining inner breath in one blow. By this point, Mo Wen was utterly deranged, heedless of consequence, focused solely on killing the bald monk before him.

With a deafening roar, fist force and palm wind collided. Stones exploded, sand and pebbles flew in all directions.

“Kill!” Mo Wen roared again. Seeing the deadlock, he channeled his spiritual consciousness into his fists as well.

A scream resounded—Master Wumo could no longer withstand it. He was flung back, crashing into a pillar of the Zhuyong Hall before landing heavily on the ground.

He coughed up several mouthfuls of blood in succession, looking at Mo Wen in shock. Mo Wen paid him no heed, advancing with sword drawn, ready to finish him off.

“Do not kill the innocent!”

An aged voice rang out. But Mo Wen heard nothing—his hatred for the Buddhist sect had reached its peak. He slashed down with his sword.

Clang!

It was as if the blade struck an unbreakable barrier; a force appeared before the fallen Master Wumo, blocking Mo Wen’s strike.

Mo Wen had pressed himself to the limit, spent of all strength. At last, he could no longer hold out—his body went limp, and he fell backward.

A figure in green appeared, swept his sleeve, and in a swirl of air, carried Mo Wen away, vanishing into the sky.