The next morning Cheng Mo packed light and prepared to leave. Cheng San followed him out and asked, "Alliance Leader, shall I accompany you?"
"No need," Cheng Mo replied. "Stay and guard the Alliance."
Traveling light with just one horse, the journey from Linyuan City to Yunyang Mountain would take five or six days at most.
The closer he drew to Zi Xiao, the more tangled the feeling in his chest became—equal parts eager anticipation and a vague, gnawing unease. They had been friends for so many years. Cheng Mo had visited Yunyang Mountain at least five times before, yet this was the first time his heart beat this way.
The Yunyang Taoist Sect sat halfway up the mountain. A quiet, winding path led upward, lined with lush green trees and the gentle chime of spring water.
Cheng Mo led his horse up the trail. When he reached the serene Taoist temple, two disciples in blue-and-white robes spotted him and bowed respectfully. "Alliance Leader Cheng!"
Cheng Mo returned the greeting. "Has Zi Xiao returned?"
One disciple answered, "The Sect Leader arrived a day before you. Shall we announce your arrival?"
"No need," Cheng Mo said. "I'll go in myself."
The disciples stepped aside. "Please, Alliance Leader."
As a frequent guest, Cheng Mo knew the way. Disciples along the path bowed to him as he passed. He handed his horse off to one of them to take to the stables, then headed straight for the innermost Xuanming Hall.
A disciple had told him Zi Xiao was meditating there.
When Cheng Mo reached the hall, only Zi Xiao was inside—sitting perfectly upright on a meditation cushion in the center, eyes closed. In the dim light of the hall, the vermilion mark between his brows stood out even more strikingly.
The moment Cheng Mo laid eyes on him, the blood pact inside his body ignited without warning. His legs went weak; he had to grab the wooden doorframe to steady himself.
Zi Xiao opened his eyes and looked straight at him.
"I…" Cheng Mo managed one syllable before his voice failed. His cheeks flushed hot. He didn't know how to explain.
Zi Xiao rose, glanced once at the Three Pure Ones statue behind him, and walked calmly toward the door.
He took Cheng Mo's hand. "Come with me."
In the next instant Zi Xiao wrapped an arm around Cheng Mo's waist, leaped lightly, and shot outward like the wind. His movements were so swift that almost none of the disciples inside the temple noticed the two men had already vanished into the forest beyond the temple grounds.
The woods here were deep and secluded, far from any human presence.
Zi Xiao pushed Cheng Mo against a thick tree with dense branches, gripped his jaw, and crushed their mouths together.
Cheng Mo immediately threw his arms around Zi Xiao's shoulders and kissed back greedily. He tilted his head, letting their saliva mix and spill from the corners of his lips.
Zi Xiao slid one leg between Cheng Mo's thighs, bending his knee to rub deliberately against the growing bulge there.
Cheng Mo panted hard, mouth still sealed by Zi Xiao's. His chest heaved violently; he was already running out of breath. He tried to push Zi Xiao away, but his arms had no strength.
Zi Xiao's lips left his mouth, sliding down to bite gently at his jaw, then lower to suck hard on his throat.
Cheng Mo couldn't stop himself from grinding shamelessly against Zi Xiao's thigh.
Zi Xiao pulled back just enough to ask, "The blood pact flared again? You came looking for me?"
Cheng Mo froze in embarrassment. "No… I was worried about you…"
Zi Xiao stared at him.
Cheng Mo turned his face away, cheeks still burning. "You left in such a hurry… is your nephew's matter still unresolved…"
Before he could finish, Zi Xiao rocked his thigh upward, grinding firmly against Cheng Mo's cock. A broken moan tore from Cheng Mo's throat, laced with frustration.
Zi Xiao leaned in again, kissing his lips and jaw. "Take off your clothes."
Cheng Mo knew they would end up here eventually—resistance was pointless. Still, stripping naked right in front of Zi Xiao made shame burn through him. He lowered his head, refusing to meet Zi Xiao's eyes, and let his trembling fingers undo his robes. The fabric fell open, baring his smooth, powerful chest.
Zi Xiao's voice was calm. "Keep going."
Cheng Mo's upper robes dropped completely. Only his pants remained. He glanced around nervously—this was broad daylight, out in the open forest. Anyone could stumble upon them.
Zi Xiao didn't seem to care. He ducked his head and sucked one of Cheng Mo's nipples into his mouth while his fingers hooked into the waistband and yanked the pants down in one smooth motion.
Cheng Mo was now completely naked, trapped between Zi Xiao and the tree.
Zi Xiao gripped his waist and spun him around, pressing his chest against the rough bark. Cheng Mo's hard nipples scraped against the coarse wood, drawing a soft gasp from him. The humiliating position—ass pushed out, waiting to be taken—made his face burn, but it also made his cock throb even harder. He could already imagine Zi Xiao's fingers spreading him open.
Yet Zi Xiao didn't move right away. Cheng Mo was just about to turn when he felt cool fingertips brush the small of his back.
His entire body locked up. Cold sweat broke across his skin. In the haze of the past days he had completely forgotten about the mark Shu Changhua had left on him—and now it was exposed right in front of Zi Xiao.
"What is this?" Zi Xiao asked quietly.
Cheng Mo swallowed hard, throat tight. He didn't know how to answer.
They had known each other for years. That single moment of hesitation told Zi Xiao everything. He grabbed Cheng Mo's arm and spun him back around to face him. "Who put it there?"
Cheng Mo dropped his gaze. He didn't want to lie to Zi Xiao, but how could he possibly say the words?
Zi Xiao suddenly channeled inner force into his fingertips, trying to erase the mark with pure energy.
A searing pain exploded in Cheng Mo's lower back. He clutched Zi Xiao's arm. "Zi Xiao!"
Zi Xiao released him. The worm-like creature hadn't disappeared—it had sunk even deeper into the skin.
"It's alive," Zi Xiao said.
Cheng Mo's eyes widened. He tried to twist around to see, but Zi Xiao caught his jaw again. "Who did this?"
At this point Cheng Mo couldn't lie. He gritted his teeth and forced the truth out. "The leader of the Shuiyue Demon Cult… Shu Changhua."
"Shuiyue Cult?" Zi Xiao didn't let go. His grip stayed firm, waiting for the rest.
Cheng Mo's breathing grew ragged. He was still completely naked, cock standing painfully hard and leaking against Zi Xiao's robes, yet Zi Xiao refused to touch him. The denial made him desperate. "Zi Xiao…"
Zi Xiao's hand slid up Cheng Mo's thigh, then lifted his left leg and hooked it over a low branch, forcing him wide open. Cheng Mo gasped and tried to lower it, but Zi Xiao pinned the leg in place, pressing their bodies together so Cheng Mo's dripping cock rubbed against his white Taoist robes, leaving a wet stain.
"Tell me how you met the cult leader," Zi Xiao ordered.
Cheng Mo shook his head, trying to gather his scattered thoughts while his body screamed for release. He kept the most humiliating parts brief—only that he had woken up with the strange mark and that Shu Changhua had fed him blood. "He called it the Lust Heart Gu… and he seemed to know about the blood pact…"
Even without saying the rest, Zi Xiao understood.
Cheng Mo felt sick with guilt. "I…"
Before he could finish, Zi Xiao flipped open his own robes, freed his thick, veined cock, and drove straight into Cheng Mo's unprepared hole in one brutal thrust.
"AAAAH—!!" Cheng Mo screamed, eyes flying wide. The sudden stretch burned like fire, but his greedy hole—already slick from hours of arousal—sucked the massive shaft in deep. The pain melted almost instantly into overwhelming pleasure.
Zi Xiao gripped the raised thigh and began fucking him—hard, deep, merciless strokes. The wet, filthy sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the quiet forest.
Cheng Mo's standing leg quickly gave out. He clung to Zi Xiao's shoulders, the only thing keeping him upright. His inner thighs scraped against the rough bark with every thrust, burning red.
Zi Xiao simply hoisted both of Cheng Mo's legs around his waist, hands under his ass, and pounded upward—long, savage strokes that slammed straight into Cheng Mo's prostate.
Cheng Mo buried his face in Zi Xiao's neck, panting hotly against pale skin. All he could hear was the obscene wet slapping of cock pounding into his sloppy hole.
Then—footsteps.
Someone was running toward them through the trees.
Cheng Mo's eyes snapped open in terror. "Zi Xiao—someone's coming—!"
Zi Xiao didn't stop. If anything, his thrusts grew harder.
The footsteps drew closer. Cheng Mo's hole clenched violently around the pistoning cock. "Zi Xiao… Zi Xiao… please…"
At the last second Zi Xiao snatched Cheng Mo's discarded clothes off the ground, still buried balls-deep inside him, and leaped lightly into the thick canopy. He settled on a sturdy branch high above, Cheng Mo still impaled on his cock, legs spread wide around his waist.
Cheng Mo's heart hammered. Below, a young Taoist disciple stopped right under their tree. "Huh… I thought I heard something."
Zi Xiao suddenly lifted Cheng Mo's ass and slammed him back down, cock grinding brutally against his prostate.
Cheng Mo bit his own wrist to keep from moaning out loud.
The disciple circled the tree. Another voice called from nearby, "Qingxuan! Did you find anything?"
"No!" the first disciple shouted back.
"Then let's go!"
"I swear I heard weird noises…"
The second disciple sounded impatient. "Hurry up!"
Qingxuan started to leave—then noticed the pair of shoes on the ground. He bent down curiously.
The other disciple yelled, "I'm leaving without you!"
"Wait—!" Qingxuan straightened and ran after him.
Their footsteps faded.
The moment they were gone, Zi Xiao gripped Cheng Mo's hips and started fucking him again—fast, brutal, relentless. The branch creaked under them.
Cheng Mo couldn't hold back anymore. He buried his face in Zi Xiao's shoulder and moaned shamelessly, "Zi Xiao… fuck… harder… your cock is so deep—ah—! I'm gonna cum—!"
Zi Xiao slammed upward one final time and unloaded—thick, scorching ropes of cum flooding Cheng Mo's guts until it overflowed and dripped down his trembling thighs.
The moment he felt that hot load painting his insides, Cheng Mo's own cock erupted, shooting long white ropes across Zi Xiao's white Taoist robes.
They stayed locked together, panting. Zi Xiao gently stroked Cheng Mo's sweat-damp back.
After a long moment he whispered against Cheng Mo's ear, "Tell me the rest later. Right now… I'm not finished with you."
Cheng Mo's hole clenched greedily around the still-hard cock inside him.
He knew the blood pact wasn't the only thing binding them anymore.
And he no longer wanted it to be.
Cheng Mo woke to find his wrecked body cleaned and dressed, lying on the low couch in Zi Xiao's private room. The faint scent of incense lingered, but Zi Xiao himself was gone.
He tried to sit up and winced—the deep ache in his ass and lower back told him Zi Xiao had applied cooling ointment after he passed out. The memory made his face burn.
A passing disciple bowed when he stepped outside. "Alliance Leader Cheng."
"Where is Zi Xiao?"
"The Sect Leader has entered closed-door cultivation to treat Senior Brother Qingxu's injuries. He asked me to tell you: if you wake, please return down the mountain on your own."
Cheng Mo's heart sank. "How long will he be in seclusion?"
The disciple shook his head. "I don't know. Senior Brother Qingxu is gravely wounded. The Sect Leader and Senior Uncle Zixu will take turns. It could be ten days… or three to five months." He added carefully, "The Sect Leader said you need not wait."
Cheng Mo felt a sharp pang of loss. He knew Zi Xiao was deliberately avoiding him.
Still, he walked to the forbidden rear mountain where the closed-door caves lay and stood silently for a long time. He knew Zi Xiao could sense his presence, yet the heavy stone door never opened.
Cheng Mo reached back and touched the mark on his lower back. He understood now—Zi Xiao's coldness had everything to do with Shu Changhua.
He had come here hoping to help Zi Xiao, yet they hadn't even spoken properly before being forced apart again. Cheng Mo hated his own shameful body.
He called out loudly, "Zi Xiao, I'm leaving first!" Then he turned and walked down the mountain.
Cheng Mo led his horse down the path. When he reached a clear spring beside the trail, he stopped to splash water on his face. Sitting there, he remembered Zi Xiao saying the worm was alive. He slipped a hand under his robes and felt the spot—smooth skin, no abnormality.
Cutting Yang Skill. Blood Pact. Lust Heart Gu. Miao border. Yuxi tribe. Shuiyue Demon Cult. Shu Changhua…
Cheng Mo couldn't shake the feeling that all these threads were connected.
"Shuiyue Cult is just a tiny, insignificant sect on the southwestern border…" Shu Changhua had said that. If the cult was in the southwest, it had to be linked to the Yuxi tribe and the Gu-using Miao people. And the worm Shu Changhua had planted in his body…
A thought struck Cheng Mo. He should travel to the southwest himself. He might uncover the cult's location—and find Shu Changhua to learn exactly what the Lust Heart Gu was and whether it could be removed.
If only Zi Xiao weren't angry with him, perhaps they could have gone together. The thought made Cheng Mo laugh bitterly. He sighed, mounted his horse, and continued down the mountain.
The moment he reached the foot of the mountain, two disciples from the Wulin Alliance came rushing up. "Alliance Leader! Abbot Nianbei sent an urgent letter. It must be delivered to you personally."
Cheng Mo took the letter, broke the seal, and read it quickly. Nianbei wrote that Shaolin disciples had captured a Shuiyue demoness. She was now imprisoned at the temple, and he asked Cheng Mo to come in person to decide her fate.
Cheng Mo folded the letter and tucked it into his robes. "I'll head to Shaolin immediately."
One disciple asked, "Alliance Leader, shall we accompany you?"
"No need. Return to the Alliance. I'll go alone."
The two disciples obeyed. Cheng Mo mounted his horse and set off for Shaolin.
Unlike Yunyang, Cheng Mo waited politely at the foot of Mount Song for a disciple to announce him. Soon an older monk hurried out to greet him.
The monk was older than Nianbei. Cheng Mo had met him before. He cupped his fists. "Master Nianyuan, it has been a long time."
"Amitabha. Alliance Leader Cheng has come from afar. You must be exhausted."
"Not at all, Master. It is my duty."
Nianyuan was Nianbei's senior brother. His martial prowess surpassed even Nianbei's. As Nianbei had mentioned, Nianyuan had also once fallen victim to a demoness's Soul Absorption Technique.
As they walked toward the temple, Nianyuan explained, "The Soul Absorption Technique clouds the mind. If you're caught off guard, one look into the demoness's eyes and you lose control. But do not worry, Alliance Leader. I have faced it multiple times. The first time I was unprepared and nearly caused disaster. The second time I simply closed my eyes and subdued her. It is no longer difficult."
Cheng Mo nodded. "I was careless that night and gave her an opening." He asked, "How did you capture this one?"
"Amitabha. The demoness was committing evil at the foot of Mount Song when our disciples spotted her. In her panic she fled onto Mount Song and was apprehended by me. She is now locked away, but her words are frivolous and seductive. Two interrogations have yielded nothing. That is why we troubled you to come."
Cheng Mo understood. Shaolin monks were celibate; questioning a seductive woman was awkward.
After greeting Nianbei, Nianyuan led Cheng Mo straight to the rear courtyard where the prisoner was held. "Shall I accompany you inside?"
Cheng Mo saw the room was completely sealed except for a small food slot at the bottom of the door. He considered, then said, "I'll go in alone."
Nianyuan nodded. "Be careful, Alliance Leader."
The guard unlocked the door. Cheng Mo stepped inside and found the room dimly lit by a narrow skylight. A woman sat on the small bed, staring at him.
Her eyes suddenly flashed crimson. Cheng Mo's heart jolted—he immediately turned his head and lunged. In one smooth motion he pinned her down with a simple joint lock. He realized her martial arts were not strong.
The woman gave a soft cry, then realized her technique had no effect on him. Her voice turned sweet and coaxing. "It hurts! Hero, you're pinching my shoulder so hard!"
Cheng Mo kept her restrained and demanded, "You are from the Shuiyue Demon Cult?"
"What Shuiyue Cult? I've never heard of it."
He tightened his grip. "Still lying? Shaolin disciples saw you committing evil with their own eyes. Master Nianyuan captured you personally. If you are not a demoness of the cult, then who are you?"
The woman cried out in pain, then suddenly softened. "I wasn't doing anything evil! I was just enjoying myself with a young master when those bald donkeys burst in and tried to arrest me. They're the real villains! Hero, why don't you rescue me? Take me with you. I'll repay you with everything I have."
As she spoke, she used her free hand to undo the buttons at her collar and pull her robe open, baring her snow-white breasts.
Cheng Mo turned his face away. "Miss, why degrade yourself like this?"
The woman paused, then laughed softly. "Degrade myself? Why would you say that?"
Cheng Mo's voice was steady. "I don't know why you joined the Shuiyue Demon Cult, but I believe your true nature is not like this. Even if their evil arts let you steal a man's cultivation through intercourse, doing such filthy things… aren't you degrading yourself?"
The woman's voice turned cold. "Hero, you're thinking too much."
Cheng Mo suddenly released her. She scrambled back and quickly covered herself.
Cheng Mo said gently, "Miss, if you have any difficulties that drove you to join the cult, please tell me. Perhaps I can help you."
The woman stared at him coldly. "Who are you? Why should I trust you?"
"My surname is Cheng, given name Mo. I am currently the leader of the Wulin Alliance. The entire martial world says the Shuiyue Demon Cult must be eradicated. But in my eyes, these so-called demonesses are simply pitiful women who have been deceived. I want to destroy the cult… but I also want to save the innocent women who were led astray. If you are willing, let me help you."
The woman remained silent.
Cheng Mo walked to the door. "Miss, think it over."
He stepped out. The door was immediately locked behind him.
Before evening, a Shaolin disciple came to him. "The demoness wishes to see you."
Cheng Mo had expected this. He followed the disciple back to the cell.
When he entered, the room was dim. The woman sat quietly on the bed, waiting.
Cheng Mo greeted her softly. "Miss."
She gave a light laugh. "I'm no longer a miss. Just a discarded wife."
Cheng Mo's heart softened. He knew she was finally lowering her guard. He walked closer, keeping his voice gentle.
The woman said, "My surname is Zhu, given name Yuqin. I grew up in a small village halfway up Mount Song with my father. I had a childhood betrothal. My father once saved that family's lives, so they swore to marry their son to me. Later, that family became wealthy. My fiancé despised me and hired thugs to rape me. Then he used my lost virginity as an excuse to break the engagement. My father was heartbroken and fell ill. He died. I wanted to follow him into death and tried to drown myself, but a woman saved me. She brought me to the Shuiyue Cult. The cult leader taught me martial arts and showed me how to take revenge. That is how I have survived until today."
Cheng Mo asked, "You came back to Mount Song for revenge?"
"Yes. But those bald monks ruined everything."
Cheng Mo sighed. "When will the cycle of hatred end…"
Yuqin looked up at him, eyes glistening. "Then tell me, Hero Cheng—my father's life, my innocence—who do I take those from?"
Cheng Mo had no answer. In his heart, only the man's death could repay her suffering. Yet how could he encourage her to keep killing?
He thought of Shu Changhua and suddenly realized the cult leader might not be utterly evil after all.
Yuqin continued, "Now that I've been captured by these monks, I know I cannot escape. I have only one wish left. I hope Hero Cheng will help me fulfill it."
"Speak."
"I came to Mount Song but never had the chance to pay respects at my father's grave. Could you help me do that?"
Cheng Mo thought for a moment. "That is not difficult. But afterward, I want you to take me to someone."
"Who?"
"Your cult leader—Shu Changhua."
Yuqin's eyes widened in shock. "Forgive me, but I cannot! Hero Cheng, I know you are a good man… but so is our cult leader. I will not lead you righteous path people to destroy the Shuiyue Cult."
Cheng Mo cleared his throat awkwardly. "Miss Yuqin, you misunderstand. I am looking for Shu Changhua for personal reasons, not to eradicate the cult. I am an honest man. When the time comes to destroy the Shuiyue Cult, I will lead the righteous sects openly in a fair battle. I will not use you to sneak in."
Yuqin still looked doubtful and did not agree.
Cheng Mo did not press her. "Regardless, I will first accompany you to pay respects to your father. I'll make the preparations."
When Nianyuan heard Cheng Mo wanted to take the demoness out of the temple, he worried. "Alliance Leader, are you certain? Perhaps I should seal her cultivation to prevent any accidents."
Cheng Mo shook his head. "No need. I believe this young lady has not lied to me. She is simply a pitiful person."
Nianyuan chanted, "Amitabha. Alliance Leader Cheng is truly compassionate. This is a blessing for the martial world."
Cheng Mo bowed. "Master flatters me. I am unworthy."
With Shaolin's permission, Cheng Mo took Yuqin and left the temple. The two rode down the mountain along the path she remembered, heading toward the cliff where her father was buried.
It was a lonely grave. Cheng Mo helped her light incense and sweep the tomb. Yuqin knelt and kowtowed three times. When she stood, she said to Cheng Mo, "Let's go."
They mounted their horses and began the descent. The mountain path was narrow and ran right beside a sheer cliff.
Suddenly they heard two women walking up the path.
"I heard Young Master Xiao down the mountain died."
"Died?"
"Yes, died in a woman's bed. Some demoness, they say. The Shaolin monks caught her and took her up the mountain."
"You mean the one who abandoned Yuqin?"
"That's him. Serves him right."
Yuqin and Cheng Mo reined in their horses and listened as the voices faded.
Cheng Mo let out a quiet breath. "You have avenged your father."
Tears shone in Yuqin's eyes, but she smiled. "Yes… my great grudge is settled. Father can rest in peace now."
Cheng Mo felt a pang of pity. "You should let it go."
Yuqin nodded. "Thank you, Hero Cheng. If not for men like you and our cult leader in this world, I would truly believe all men are heartless. If there is a next life… I hope I can meet a man like you. That would be enough."
With those words, Yuqin suddenly leaped from her horse—straight toward the ten-thousand-foot cliff.
Cheng Mo cried out in alarm. "Miss Yuqin!" He lunged, grabbing her hand, but the momentum carried them both over the edge.
Cheng Mo managed to seize the cliff wall with his free hand, fingers digging into stone and drawing blood. He finally halted their fall.
Yuqin dangled below him, unconscious.
Cheng Mo scanned the cliff desperately and spotted a small crescent-shaped ledge not far below.
He pushed off the wall, twisted in mid-air, and landed on the ledge with a roll. Neither of them was injured, but when he looked down, Yuqin had fainted.
He gently called her name. No response. Cheng Mo had no choice but to pick her up and stand.
The ledge opened into a low, narrow cave. Cheng Mo carried her inside. The passage was so tight in places that he had to crawl on his knees while holding her. After a long time the tunnel widened dramatically.
They emerged into an enormous cavern inside the mountain—five or six zhang high, with a small hole at the top letting in faint light.
In the center of the cavern, a man knelt on the ground. Thick iron chains bound his four limbs, the other ends disappearing into the cave wall.
The man was covered in filth, almost naked except for a scrap of cloth around his waist. His long, unkempt hair and beard hid most of his face. He sat perfectly still; it was impossible to tell if he was alive or dead.
Cheng Mo's heart jolted. He walked closer slowly—when the man suddenly spoke in a hoarse, rusty voice.
"Who?"
The voice was low and strange, as if he had not spoken in years.
Then Cheng Mo saw a pair of bright, star-like eyes shining through the tangled hair. In that instant the entire dark cavern seemed to brighten because of those eyes.
"Who are you?" Cheng Mo asked.
The man was silent for a long time, then gave a hoarse chuckle, as if he himself had forgotten. "Who am I?"
Cheng Mo took another cautious step forward, looking at the deep cavern, the heavy iron chains, the Shaolin temple above them. A wild guess struck him. His voice trembled. "Are you… Brother Huiji?"
The man's bright eyes locked onto Cheng Mo. His voice turned cold. "Who are you?"
Cheng Mo had only been guessing, but the man's reaction confirmed it. For a moment he didn't know whether to feel shock or joy. He wasn't even sure if Huiji still remembered him.
Fourteen years ago, when Cheng Mo was fourteen, he had accompanied his father on his first visit to Shaolin. At that time Huiji was only sixteen—the most gifted disciple in a hundred years. He had already passed the Eighteen Copper Men Array and mastered every Shaolin style. Even Nianbei and Nianyuan were no match for their little junior brother.
Cheng Mo had long heard of Huiji's fame. The first time he saw the white-robed youth—elegant, handsome, with features like a painting—he couldn't stop stealing glances.
In front of Huiji, Cheng Mo had felt insignificant. He had not yet begun training under the Qing Song Elder and was unknown in the jianghu, known only as the son of the Alliance Leader. Though he admired Huiji, he had not dared approach.
His father stayed at Shaolin for over a month. Sometimes Cheng Mo grew bored and slipped away to the back mountain to play.
One day he found a baby bird that had fallen from its nest. Wanting to return it, he tucked his robe into his belt and climbed the tree—only to lose strength halfway up. He cried out as he fell.
Just before he hit the ground, he felt strong arms catch him from behind and set him gently down.
Cheng Mo opened his eyes and saw those bright, star-like eyes. In his excitement he blurted, "Brother Huiji!" Then, embarrassed, he quickly corrected himself. "Master Huiji."
Huiji smiled. "Little brother, why were you climbing the tree?"
Cheng Mo blushed and held up the baby bird. "I wanted to return it to its nest."
Huiji chanted softly, "Amitabha. Planting good causes yields good results. Since little brother has such a kind heart, let this brother help plant the cause for you."
He took the bird, leaped lightly up the tree, and placed it safely back in the nest.
From that day on, Cheng Mo learned that Huiji often trained in that forest. He began coming every day to watch. Though Huiji was a monk, he was still a youth and enjoyed Cheng Mo's company. The two of them laughed and talked, becoming fast friends.
But the month passed too quickly. Cheng Mo had to leave with his father. Reluctantly, he said goodbye to Huiji.
For a long time afterward, Cheng Mo dreamed of returning to Shaolin to see his Brother Huiji again.
He never imagined that only half a year later the jianghu would be thrown into chaos. The once-celebrated Shaolin prodigy had become a monstrous demon who secretly practiced forbidden arts and slaughtered the four great families of Jiangnan. Cheng Mo refused to believe it at first—how could someone like Brother Huiji do such cruel things? But soon the entire martial world spoke of Huiji with terror. His father led heroes in a massive hunt, yet they could not capture him.
In the end the Qing Song Elder personally intervened, using the Cutting Yang Skill to subdue the great demon and return him to Shaolin.
Out of compassion, Shaolin did not execute him. Instead they bound him with iron chains and sealed him in the forbidden rear mountain.
Because of this, Yongji retired and Nianbei became abbot. The Qing Song Elder visited the Wulin Alliance, took a liking to Cheng Mo, and took him as his disciple to teach him the Cutting Yang Skill.
Nearly ten years had passed.
Cheng Mo never imagined that fate would bring him face to face with his old friend again—except now one was the imprisoned demon of Shaolin, and the other was the new leader of the Wulin Alliance.
When Huiji asked who he was, Cheng Mo didn't know how to answer. He wasn't sure if Huiji still remembered the name Cheng Mo. Back then Cheng Mo had been a nobody, while Huiji was already famous. Moreover, so many years had passed, and Huiji had been locked in this lightless cave. Cheng Mo wasn't even sure Huiji's mind was still clear.
Still, he had to try. He said softly, "Brother Huiji… it's me, Cheng Mo. Do you still remember me?"
After a long silence, Huiji answered hoarsely, "Cheng Mo… I remember you."
Cheng Mo's heart surged with emotion. He stepped forward. "You really remember!"
Suddenly a powerful suction force pulled him forward. Cheng Mo barely had time to react before he was yanked straight toward Huiji. At the last second he channeled his qi and met Huiji's palm with his own. The rebound sent him flying back to his original spot.
Huiji asked coldly, "Cutting Yang Skill? What is your relationship with the Qing Song Elder?"
Cheng Mo's chest still heaved. "He is my master."
Huiji nodded slowly and fell silent again.
Cheng Mo refused to give up. He walked closer step by step, keeping his voice gentle. "Brother Huiji… back then, why did you secretly practice Shaolin's forbidden arts? Why did you massacre the four great families of Jiangnan? Were those rumors true?"
Huiji did not answer.
Cheng Mo kept walking until he stood right in front of him. Huiji remained kneeling, eyes closed, silent.
For some reason, Cheng Mo remembered the Huiji from back then—the handsome young monk with features like a painting. A deep wave of pity washed over him. He didn't know what had happened to Huiji, but in his heart Huiji would always be that kind, gentle big brother.
There was a shallow pool of accumulated rainwater in the cavern. Cheng Mo tore a strip from his robe, soaked it in the water, wrung it out, and walked back. He crouched and began gently wiping the filth from Huiji's face. Huiji did not resist or open his eyes.
As the black grime came away, pale skin was revealed—skin that had not seen sunlight in years. Cheng Mo used a sharp stone fragment to carefully shave away the tangled beard. The face that emerged was no longer that of a youth, but the features were still the same sharp, handsome ones he remembered. Cheng Mo could imagine how striking Huiji would look if he opened those bright eyes.
Cheng Mo tossed the stone aside and stood. "Brother Huiji… you still look exactly as I remember. You haven't changed."
Huiji suddenly gave a low laugh. "I am no longer the person in your memories."
Cheng Mo was stunned.
Huiji continued, "Do you know why the Prajna Demon Art is a forbidden Shaolin technique?"
"I don't."
"Because it infinitely amplifies desire. Buddhism seeks to sever the six senses and seven emotions. The Prajna Demon Art strikes directly at that taboo."
Cheng Mo asked, "Then why did you practice it?"
"For revenge."
"Against the four great families of Jiangnan?"
Huiji did not answer.
Cheng Mo pressed, "What deep grudge did you have with them?"
Huiji remained silent. Instead he asked, "Do you know what I want to do right now?"
Cheng Mo shook his head.
Huiji raised one hand. The heavy chains rattled. He reached toward Cheng Mo. "Little brother Cheng Mo… come here. Let big brother Huiji hug you."
Cheng Mo's face changed dramatically.