Chapter Thirty: Wu and Yue, Sleeping and Waking Together (New Book—Please Recommend and Add to Favorites!)

The twelve neighborhoods in the southern city were divided into two sections: the first three neighborhoods, and the latter nine. Class consciousness often arises from comparison. The first three neighborhoods were inhabited mostly by ordinary folk, but those who had already reached a modest prosperity. In the latter nine, the residents were still struggling at the threshold of subsistence.

Among these latter nine, there was a neighborhood called Shuangyu, its name unlike the others, which were chosen for auspiciousness or to reflect local characteristics. Shuangyu was named for two people—the twin sons of the Yu family.

When the elders spoke of these twins, they would sigh, then their faces would glow with pride. “Yu Zui and Yu Gu, those two children, how hard their lives have been. Their mother was pregnant with them when their father died—he went to the eastern city, hoping to sell a family heirloom for a good price, but never returned. A perfectly healthy man, gone without warning. As for their mother, alas, she died in childbirth. The children hadn’t even opened their eyes before they were orphans. Yet, against all odds, they survived.” The elders would then shift to boasting: “But those two kids made something of themselves! They became remarkable, almost legendary. And they never forgot their roots. When someone from Shuangyu goes out into the world, they carry themselves with pride—the people from the upper neighborhoods might talk about their superiority, but it’s nothing but nonsense!”

Wu Yue wandered through Shuangyu and easily found the homes of Yu Zui and Yu Gu. Along the way, he encountered several groups who seemed to be searching for him, but they left empty-handed. With someone secretly protecting him, Wu Yue had no reason to hide; he strode boldly down the main streets, and nothing happened to him.

He ignored the rest of the gossip. It had nothing to do with his intention to kill them. In fact, if it weren’t for the twins, Wu Yue would likely have watched in silence as another version of himself—his so-called primary consciousness—took action. But debts and gratitude must always be clear; they cannot cancel each other out. When the time came, Wu Yue would spare their souls as repayment for their kindness.

“Wu Yue!” Suddenly, a voice rang out. “You've come looking for us! You’ve made things so difficult—now the whole city is hunting us!”

Wu Yue turned and saw Yu Fu, who was glaring at him angrily. He wasn’t surprised that Yu Fu was unharmed; after all, Yu Fu was accompanied by the White Tapo, who could take human form. If Zhao Yulinquan knew of this in the afterlife, he’d probably rise from the grave. A beast capable of taking human form had cultivation comparable to the great powers of the human race!

Wu Yue seemed a bit dazed. Yu Fu, though grumbling, still pulled him into a house, saying, “Luckily, we have Uncle Bai. If not for his amazing cooking, no one would have taken us in. Now we have to feed you too. I’ll have to talk with Uncle Huang again. Hey, what’s that look on your face?”

“Nothing,” Wu Yue replied, forcing a neutral expression.

The portly Bai emerged, unchanged, with his honest face and chef’s attire.

A powerful urge surged within Wu Yue—to devour this man’s soul, to consume it whole! The impulse grew louder and stronger, but his reason warned him that such a move would be fatal. Yet the desire only intensified.

He pressed a finger to his own forehead and exhaled deeply, realizing he was drenched in sweat.

“What’s wrong?” Yu Fu asked, concern written on his face.

Wu Yue shook his head. “I’m fine.” He noticed Bai had disappeared.

Yu Fu explained, “It’s busy now; Uncle Bai has gone to the kitchen.”

“Oh,” Wu Yue said, stepping toward the door. Yu Fu hurried after him, “Where are you going? Don’t run around! There are people everywhere looking for us. This place isn’t so bad—food’s better than on Mount Li. We’ll just hide for a year or two, then go back.”

Before Yu Fu finished his rambling, Wu Yue was already gone; with a surge of spiritual energy, his figure vanished. Yu Fu stepped outside cautiously but found nothing amiss.

Blue bricks and tiles, a courtyard with two entrances and exits—in the lower neighborhoods, this was a fine house. But for two cultivators at the Core Formation stage, it was rather humble.

Wu Yue had no qualms about being a killer; he pushed the door open and entered. In the courtyard, many people were gathered—over a dozen children, some young, some older, all seated in meditation. At the front stood a young man in black, more a youth than a grown man.

When enemies meet, there was no flare of rage.

Wu Yue struck with a fist, imbued with the immense energy of heaven and earth. This blow would be fatal to any Core Formation cultivator!

A metallic clang resounded. Wu Yue stepped back; before him now stood a monk, young, perhaps in his twenties, wearing plain robes—not with the usual gentle demeanor, but a mild expression.

“Wu Yue?!” Yu Zui, emerging from behind, exclaimed. Both Yu Zui and Yu Gu’s faces changed dramatically.

Wu Yue steadied his spiritual energy and swept his hands, sending seven or eight wisps of gray energy—seemingly slow but in fact swift—rushing toward the monk.

The monk stood firm. His right hand grasped the air as if holding a wooden mallet, gently striking the void in rhythmic cadence. The sound of a wooden fish echoed, and the gray energies dissipated instantly. Wu Yue’s face paled.

The truth was, Wu Yue now embodied only the extreme aspects of his former self, inheriting most of the Void Devourer’s soul by chance and relying on its unique attacks for his success. He’d never truly faced a master of great powers—and now, his lack of experience and depth was glaring.

The wooden fish's sound ceased. The monk gazed at Wu Yue, calm and peaceful, without a trace of murderous intent.

Wu Yue’s face was ashen; those gray energies had contained part of his soul, now destroyed, leaving him seriously wounded.

“You’re helping them?” Wu Yue asked. He was not one for many words, but he had no choice.

“Both fellows of the Yu family have accumulated boundless virtue in their lives; they have no cause for death,” the monk replied gently. He stood simply, hands forming a Buddhist gesture, appearing defenseless, yet exuding a formidable sense of threat.

“They tried to kill me, so I seek their lives,” Wu Yue said.

“That is true,” Yu Zui and Yu Gu stood beside the monk, their faces no longer cold. “He bears no evil; we acted because of the Yao family’s old debt of gratitude.” Their gazes toward Wu Yue were complicated; this was the man who had shattered their proud supernatural abilities. Yet, in the aftermath, their stagnant cultivation had advanced.

“As for the matter of Princess Youping, we are indeed involved,” Yu Zui said, with a bitter smile.

“In that case, the death sentence is lifted,” the monk declared.

“Then I’ll take my leave,” Wu Yue said hurriedly, for the monk was too daunting.

“But there remains a punishment that cannot be avoided,” the monk said. Wu Yue retreated instantly, sending his spiritual energy surging to attack the children in the courtyard.

“Such cruelty cannot be allowed to escape,” the monk declared, pushing his hands forward and back. The energy aimed at the children dispersed in all directions.

“Buddha dwells in the heart,” the monk intoned.

Wu Yue, who had already fled hundreds of meters, suddenly stopped. Before him appeared a great Buddha statue, its hand descending upon him, inescapable. In his mind, a chorus of Buddhist chants grew louder, countless voices urging him to take refuge in the Buddha.

“Ah!” Wu Yue’s face contorted. The vast earth, yet nowhere to hide!

The cicadas sang—their cries both mournful and joyous.

The Buddha statue’s hand descended! A blade of sword energy cleaved the sky, shattering the statue and the chanting within his mind.

“I will not die!” Wu Yue roared; whichever Wu Yue he was, the desire for life burned fiercely. For within his heart, there was an obsession.

“I shall sleep for a hundred years—do not let yourself die,” he murmured, truly speaking to himself.

The monk, who had remained unperturbed, was finally taken aback.