Chapter 80: Humans Are Not Plants or Trees; Who Can Be Without Feelings

The training platform was covered with snow, untouched by any attempt to clear it.

Snowflakes swirling in the air melted before they could touch the eaves, leaving only a damp mist lingering, as a brazier burned inside the room.

Jiang Ziyou was slumped over the edge of the bed, fast asleep.

He had hardly rested these past days, waking anxiously at the faintest noise.

“Cough, cough… cough…”

A series of coughs broke the silence, startling him awake.

Jiang Ziyou’s eyes shot open.

Wen Shili had awoken, his face pale as snow under sunlight.

“Master!” Jiang Ziyou was both startled and frightened.

His joy came from his master finally waking after so many days.

His fear stemmed from the possibility that this might be the final burst of energy before death.

“Master…”

Wen Shili’s sharp brows, cold and unapproachable like the edge of a blade, rested low over his closed eyes.

His lashes were long, casting the faint shadow of a crescent moon across his face.

“Cough, cough… My days are numbered…”

His weak, labored breaths accompanied his words.

His lips parted slightly, producing a sound like icy jade striking.

“Ziyou, come closer.”

“Master…”

Jiang Ziyou leaned forward without hesitation.

In the next moment, Wen Shili stretched out his hand—a hand Jiang Ziyou had meticulously cleaned every day, ensuring it was immaculate and untouched by dust.

His icy fingertips, filled with an emotion indistinguishable from pity or tenderness, lightly pressed against Jiang Ziyou’s forehead.

In an instant, radiant light burst forth, surging into Jiang Ziyou’s chest.

Threads of crimson light extended from Wen Shili’s fingers, embedding themselves deep within Jiang Ziyou’s body.

Jiang Ziyou’s body began to wither rapidly, like a fallen leaf swept away by the wind.

His eyes widened in disbelief.

“Master… why?”

“You are not human.”

Wen Shili’s previously ashen complexion was now visibly flushed with color.

His spiritual form began to stabilize as he said, “You are a vessel I created using South Sea Merman Wood and my heart’s blood.”

The onlookers observing the scene through the projection stone were equally stunned.

Yin Ci, impatient as ever, tugged at Yin Buqi’s arm.

“What… what does he mean by this? Brother, what is a vessel?”

Yin Buqi explained, “The inscription on the monument mentioned that Wen Shili quelled the South Sea rebellion. Presumably, he acquired the Merman Wood during that time.”

“I’ve read ancient texts stating that South Sea Merman Wood is a treasured relic of the South Sea, with only one tree capable of growing over the course of a century. It can transform into a human-like shell. Through a certain ritual, one’s flesh and blood essence can be merged with this shell to create what appears to be a living person. In reality, it is a puppet meant to resurrect its creator if their spiritual form is ever destroyed.”

“But how can Senior Brother not be human…”

Yin Ci’s face turned red as he clenched his sleeves tightly before finally loosening his grip.

“Senior Brother is flesh and blood, just like us!”

In the projection, Jiang Ziyou collapsed to his knees in anguish, trembling as he clung to Wen Shili’s feet.

“Master… it hurts… it hurts so much…”

His voice, though not loud, was filled with unimaginable grief and restraint.

He curled up, shrinking as though wishing to disappear entirely from the world.

“Master… tell me you’re lying. I’m human, aren’t I? Look at me…”

Wen Shili remained silent, closing his eyes abruptly before exerting force with his hand.

Jiang Ziyou’s body, now half-withered, revealed skeletal fingers as he clung to Wen Shili’s robe, pleading desperately.

“Master… in these past ten years… was there even a moment… when you thought of me as… as…”

Before he could finish, thin threads mixed with blood fell to the ground.

Jiang Ziyou collapsed, a single tear dropping silently into the pool of blood.

Wen Shili’s figure froze momentarily.

He lowered his lashes and stared blankly at his hand before slowly lifting his gaze, murmuring to himself, “South Sea Merman Wood… why does it cry…”

Jiang Niannian felt a pang of sorrow in her heart.

“So… this is Jiang Ziyou’s memory, sealed within the recording stone.”

Jiang Ziyou stood up shakily, his voice trembling with pain.

“So this is the truth…”

“I remember now… I remember everything…”

His voice grew hoarse with despair.

“So, I’m nothing but a piece of wood…”

No wonder his master never allowed him to bleed, not even a single drop.

He had thought it was because his master cared for him and didn’t want him to get hurt during sword practice.

But he had never imagined… this was the reason.

In his master’s eyes, whether he practiced swordsmanship or not, whether he excelled at it or not, it was all meaningless.

In the end, he was destined to die.

It was only today, only now, that he understood…

The nameless one was him.

The one with no past was him.

The one rootless and adrift in this world… was only him.

“Brother, what is all this about?”

Yin Ci anxiously paced in circles, spitting out angrily.

“I can’t believe his master turned out to be like this. He’s unworthy of being a teacher!”

Suddenly, a thought struck him.

“If Jiang Ziyou died a hundred years ago… then who is this person standing here now?”

Jiang Niannian and Yin Buqi exchanged a glance, a tacit understanding passing between them.

With a sigh, Jiang Niannian said, “Buqi, you explain.”

“Alright,” Yin Buqi began.

“It’s quite clear. If Wen Shili’s actions stopped at what we saw in the recording stone, then he wouldn’t be guilty. After all, according to human beliefs, South Sea Merman Wood isn’t considered human—merely a vessel for preserving life essence.”

He continued, “Wen Shili sealed the Demon Lord, a great merit, yet he never entered the Tribulation Stage. Despite reaching the Mahayana Stage a century ago, why hasn’t he ascended?”

Yin Ci’s pupils constricted.

“He cultivates the Path of Ruthless… Ah, his Dao Heart was unstable after Jiang Ziyou’s death!”

“Exactly,” Yin Buqi nodded.

“The South Sea Merman Wood had already withered, yet Jiang Ziyou somehow came back to life. Clearly, Wen Shili used some forbidden technique to resurrect him.”

“And the person who helped him complete this forbidden technique was likely Shen Yu. That explains why someone as cold as Wen Shili would agree to assist in replacing the formation to uncover the truth about the Wei Clan’s extinction.”

As he spoke, Yin Buqi turned his crimson eyes toward Jiang Ziyou, whose face was pale.

His gaze was sharp, filled with scrutiny.

“You already know the unforgivable things your master has done, don’t you? You want to cover for him, don’t you?”

Snow began to fall again.

“I…”

Jiang Ziyou’s voice trembled as he suppressed the terror and pain in his chest.

Behind him, footsteps approached.

The group turned to look.

In the wind and snow, Wen Shili appeared, dressed in white, a long sword in hand, walking toward them step by step.

As a cultivator in the Mahayana Stage, his steps should have been soundless, but he deliberately made his presence known.

Wen Shili brushed the thin layer of snow off his shoulders, then lifted his lashes to reveal a pair of serene yet utterly mad eyes.

He glanced at them lightly.

“I’m here to take my disciple home.”

Jiang Ziyou instinctively stepped back, heart racing, palms sweaty, and breathing tight with anxiety.

“I… I don’t want to go with you.”

Wen Shili’s voice dropped, calm yet chilling.

“Where would you go?”

“Anywhere but where you are.”

Wen Shili chuckled suddenly, his lips pale, the frost and snow accentuating his solitary desolation.

“Why rush to escape?” he said.