MOF Chapter 35

Chapter 35: Si Wumian Encounters a Despondent Man, Like a Fleeting Arrow of Time…

After all the corpses were annihilated, everyone was exhausted. The tracker bird flocks had also dispersed around the special bird.

Xie Yiling swung his aching shoulder, looked at the chaotic city, and said to Nangong Ci, “I wonder what kind of dangerous situation we will face after today.”

Nangong Ci knew that Xie Yiling was worried about the next move of Wen Liangchen and others, and comforted him: “When soldiers come, we will block them; when water comes, we will use earth to dam it.”

Although Xie Yiling and others arrived in time for this siege of Yin corpses, some civilians and disciples were still injured. Liu Weiyuan was in Cang Ling Du at this time, so Shen Wangu could only send his disciples to send the injured to Cang Ling Du.

He turned around and saw that Xie Yiling and the two seemed to be leaving, so he quickly put away his sword and stopped them.

“Daoist Fufeng, thanks to Daoist and this one for this Yin corpse incident…”

Xie Yiling quickly said: “I am Xie Ci, courtesy name Yiling, and I am a disciple of Daoist Fufeng.”

Shen Wangu couldn’t help but take a few more glances at him, and said: “Thank you, Little Immortal Lord, for your help. Shen is very grateful. It’s getting late, and you two must be tired. Why not follow Shen to Cang Ling Du to rest, which can be regarded as a reward for you two.”

Xie Yiling said: “I only listen to my master.”

Nangong Ci remained silent, and Shen Wangu continued: “Young Master Yue and the others are also in Cang Ling Du, looking for a way to save Mo the Third Master with the head of the sect.”

Nangong Ci then replied: “Thank you.”

At this moment, a woman hugged a child saved by Xie Yiling and passed by with her head down in a hurry.

Xie Yiling looked relaxed and called A Si over.

“Okay, let’s go eat.”

A Si’s eyes, which were originally so sleepy that he could barely open them, lit up instantly.

Cang Ling Du Mountain has abundant spiritual power, delicious fungi, and most of them are non-toxic. After Xie Yiling and the others arrived at Cang Ling Du, they didn’t bother anyone else and cooked a pot of mushroom soup themselves. He didn’t know where he caught a pheasant, and dragged Gu Huanzhi to excitedly boil water and kill the chicken together.

A Si had smelled the pot hundreds of times. Seeing this, Nangong Ci handed over a handkerchief: “Saliva, wipe it.”

A Si rudely snatched the handkerchief, wiped away the saliva, and glared at Nangong Ci: “It’s none of your business!”

Nangong Ci curled his lips slightly and didn’t argue with him.

The fire was burning very brightly, and the water in the pot boiled in a short while. After waiting for a while, the meat was cooked. The hot soup warmed his stomach, and Xie Yiling felt a lot more relaxed, feeling comfortable.

Compared to fullness, eating was more like a pleasure to him, like fishing in the river or picking peaches in the back mountain.

Gu Huanzhi took a sip of the soup, tasted the freshness, and then took two more sips: “I heard a long time ago that Cang Ling Du’s mushroom hot pot is incredibly fresh and fragrant. Today, I tasted it and it really is. These various fresh mushrooms are neatly arranged in the pot, paired with green vegetables and red meat. It’s simply a feast!”

Xie Yiling nodded in agreement, turned his head and saw that Nangong Ci hadn’t moved his chopsticks for a long time, and asked in a low voice: “What’s wrong? Is this soup not to your taste?”

Nangong Ci shook his head: “No, it’s just too hot right now. I’ll wait for it to cool down a bit.”

Hearing this, Xie Yiling picked up the mushrooms that had been cooled down early in his bowl and put them into his bowl one by one: “Here, you eat this first, it’s not hot anymore.”

Nangong Ci smiled slightly, lowered his eyes and said softly: “Okay.”

The autumn moon hung in the sky, and it was already late at night with heavy dew.

After Xie Yiling and a few others finished their dinner, they returned to their rooms. Gu Huanzhi left the earliest, and A Si disappeared at some point.

Only he and Nangong Ci were left walking in the moonlight, heading towards their residence together.

Two days later, in the early morning, the morning sun rose into the sky, and white clouds gathered and dispersed.

Si Wumian walked on the streets of Ghost City and heard bursts of sighs from the restaurant, as if something strange had happened again.

His curiosity was piqued, and he entered the restaurant, wanting to hear what was going on.

The storyteller drank several cups of water in a row before continuing: “I saw Fufeng Daoist of the Southern Return Heavenly Pavilion, with just a wave of his cold sword, instantly turned thousands of Yin corpses into a pile of black earth. Wherever the spirit sword passed, all evils retreated…”

Si Wumian looked at the storyteller, who was splattering saliva as he spoke, and at the audience below, who were full of shock, and couldn’t help but shake his head with a smile.

He walked out of the restaurant with light steps. At this moment, a man covered in dust, with a hunched back and a limp, entered his sight.

Si Wumian was immediately attracted by the sachet hanging on his waist.

Although the sachet’s fabric was worn, its color was as new. He couldn’t help but wonder in his heart: This man looks like a beggar, but the sachet on his waist is made of superior material. He is probably a noble young master whose family has declined.

Just as he was thinking, he saw a gorgeously dressed young master pass by the lame man from behind, with an arrogant attitude, like a playboy.

He fanned himself smugly with his right hand, and quickly reached out with his left hand to the lame man’s waist, stealthily swiping the sachet away.

Si Wumian’s gaze instantly turned cold, and he immediately shouted sharply: “Bold thief! How dare you openly commit theft in broad daylight!”

As soon as the thief heard this, he wanted to run away like his feet were oiled, but Si Wumian used a burst of spiritual power to bind his limbs.

“Help! A member of the Immortal Sect is bullying innocent people. Is there any justice in the world!”

When the surrounding pedestrians heard this, they stopped and gathered to watch.

The gorgeously dressed young master’s face turned red, and he said loudly: “A dignified disciple of the Immortal Sect is actually abusing an ordinary person who has no strength to even truss a chicken in public. Don’t you think it damages the reputation of your sect?”

Si Wumian said in a deep voice: “Stop sophistry! I clearly saw you steal this brother’s sachet!”

When the thief heard this, he couldn’t help but laugh: “Hahahaha, Immortal Lord, you have good eyes! You actually think that such an exquisite sachet could be taken out by a stinky beggar!”

The surrounding people also laughed, and some whispered to Si Wumian: “Immortal Lord, you must have seen it wrong, right? No matter how you look at it, this sachet looks like it belongs to this young master.”

Si Wumian said coldly: “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’m afraid even I would have been fooled by this thief. Don’t be deceived by this person’s sweet words.”

He looked at the beggar, who was hanging his head and not saying a word, and felt a hidden anger in his heart for his lack of assertiveness, but he still upheld justice and said: “Since you say this sachet is yours, then you must know what’s inside this sachet.”

What else could be in the sachet? Of course, it’s money!

The thief only felt that the Immortal Lord in front of him had asked a meaningless question. He turned his wrist with some difficulty, weighed the heavy sachet, and heard a faint collision sound, feeling confident in his heart.

He quickly responded: “This morning, the maid in my mansion tidied up this sachet for me. I wanted to go out for a stroll, so I asked her to put some loose silver in it.”

Hearing this, Si Wumian saw that he looked like he had everything under control, and couldn’t help but feel a little flustered in his heart.

“The sachet contains jujube pits.”

A hoarse voice sounded, and Si Wumian turned his head in surprise to look at the beggar. Although the voice was as dull as a blunt knife, it was not difficult to tell that the person was about the same age as him.

“Hahahaha! This beggar is quite strange. He doesn’t guess gold, silver, or jewelry, but jujube pits?”

“I think he’s probably a little dull-witted. He’s quite pitiful.”

Si Wumian raised his hand and snatched the sachet from the thief’s hand. In front of everyone, he opened the sachet.

The sachet was bulging. He reached in and grabbed a handful, his palm full of dried jujube pits with patterns.

“This! How is this possible!” The thief’s face turned red, almost smoking. “It must be you who switched the things in my sachet! After all, you are a disciple of the Immortal Sect. This little trick is nothing more than a trivial skill to you. You can deceive them, but you can’t deceive me!”

Si Wumian packed up the sachet and handed it to the beggar: “This brother, here you go.”

The man paused, still hanging his head, and raised his hand to accept it.

His hands were extremely thin, covered with scars that were deeper than the skin after scabbing.

Si Wumian’s heart trembled, and he heard a “thank you” in his ear. He opened his mouth, but the man had already taken the sachet and walked away with a limp.

Si Wumian turned his head to look at the thief, who was still unrepentant and seemed to be arguing with reason, and said coldly: “Considering that you are just acting out of greed and have not taken anyone’s life, I will spare you for today.”

Hearing this, the thief gradually calmed down and looked at Si Wumian with a slightly strange expression.

“Of course, I won’t just let you go like this,” Si Wumian said, pinching a secret and placing it on the thief, “This is a self-reflection talisman. If you commit another crime within a year, I will definitely know and find you at the ends of the earth.”

“You!” The thief suddenly struggled frantically, not knowing that Si Wumian had already released the restraint. He used too much force, staggered, and fell to the ground.

The surrounding people all laughed and dispersed. Si Wumian shook his head and suddenly froze.

He seemed to have seen the totem embroidered on that sachet somewhere.

Si Wumian’s heart was startled, and he quickly turned around and chased in the direction the lame man had left.

He remembered! The totem was shaped like the character “mountain,” but it was actually an inkstone. Years ago, when he and his fellow disciples visited Water-Ink Immortal Estate, he had seen three Mo family young masters, all of whom had such sachets on them.

“Please wait a moment, brother!” Seeing that he was getting closer and closer to the lame man, Si Wumian quickly called out.

The lame man stopped and turned his head. Three jujube pits quickly shot towards Si Wumian.

Si Wumian reacted quickly. With three clear “clangs,” all three jujube pits hit his Zhi Xing Sword.

“Brother, I have no malicious intent!” Si Wumian put away his sword and quickly explained, “I, I saw that you were calm in the face of adversity and handled things steadily. I thought you were no ordinary person. I didn’t expect that you were really a hidden master!”

“What do you want?” the man asked in a deep voice, his words full of vigilance.

Si Wumian bowed: “I am Si Yuan, courtesy name Wumian, a disciple of the Southern Return Heavenly Pavilion in Jin City. I seemed to see a very familiar totem on your sachet earlier. May I ask where you are from?”

Si Wumian glanced at him, not missing the man’s small movement of gently stroking the sachet, and quietly waited for the other party to answer.

“You say,” the man opened his mouth, his hoarse voice like rubbing in Si Wumian’s ears, “You are from the Southern Return Heavenly Pavilion?”

Si Wumian quickly replied: “That’s right!”

The man said in a deep voice: “What does that have to do with me?”

Si Wumian was stunned, and seeing him turn to leave, he subconsciously grabbed his arm.

“Hey! No, brother, I…”

Pulled by him like this, the man suddenly raised his head to look at Si Wumian. Under the messy and knotted hair, only a dark left eye remained.

Si Wumian’s words were instantly stuck in his throat. He looked at the man’s sunken eyelids and the dry flesh of his right eye socket, his lips moved, but he couldn’t say a word.

He carefully looked at the man’s face, trying to find some memories from the outline.

“Mo, Mo the Second Young Master?”

If this face wasn’t indeed unforgettable, Si Wumian would never have been able to remember who it was.

After many years, this face had become much thinner, and a scar ran from his right forehead to his lower left jaw. The scar was very deep, almost exactly piercing through his right eye, like a fleeting arrow of time, severing the man’s elegance and vigor.