Chapter 27: The True and the False Zhou Yi

He moved to help Wu Qian, but Wu Feng caught him from behind. "You villain, don’t touch my sister."

His brows furrowed tightly. Why was this happening? Wu Qian should have been delighted, but instead she was terrified.

"Wu Feng, what is going on? How did Uncle die?" he asked.

Wu Feng snorted coldly, pointing at him. "Don’t pretend to be innocent. You know perfectly well what you’ve just done, and now you ask me?"

"What did I just do?" he questioned.

Wu Feng’s anger only deepened. "I always considered you a role model, but now I see you’re just a coward who won’t own up to what he’s done."

It was only then that he realized Wu Gui Shun’s death was somehow closely tied to him; otherwise, Wu Feng would never speak to him this way. Yet he had just descended from Mount Changbai—how could he possibly be involved in Wu Gui Shun’s death?

He thought hard, his brow creasing further. Clearly, it was pointless to question Wu Feng now, as he was far too agitated. Left with no other choice, he left the Wu family home, but didn’t go far. He climbed the mountain, caught a wild pheasant, roasted it at the village entrance, eating as he pondered the events.

He had just come down from the mountain when Wu Gui Shun died. When he first saw Wu Gui Shun, there was still fresh blood on his head, clearly indicating he had only recently been killed. The murderer must have been nearby when he arrived at the Wu family home, not yet departed. But since he went back to the mountain to catch a pheasant, he couldn’t be sure if the killer had left during that time.

The murderer must have impersonated him or acted in his name. Otherwise Wu Qian and Wu Feng would not have believed he was the killer—this was evident from Wu Feng’s attitude.

With this realization, a chill ran down his spine. Ignoring the gaze of travelers on the main road, he channeled his spiritual energy into his legs and raced back to Baishan Village. Reaching home, he found the door open and steam billowing from within, indicating that someone was cooking. His heart settled—if someone was preparing a meal, nothing bad had happened.

But as he pushed open the door, he was confronted with a terrifying sight. Someone who looked exactly like him was sitting on the brick bed, chatting with Zhou Mo. His mother was cooking in the kitchen, and a banquet had been set up, suggesting the stranger had just arrived and hadn’t yet started eating.

He rushed in, dragging the impostor off the bed. "Who are you? Why are you pretending to be me?" he demanded.

The impostor showed not the slightest alarm, pointing at him with the same tone. "Who are you? Why are you in my home?"

Zhou Mo and his mother were stunned. How could there be two Zhou Yi, speaking and behaving identically—even his mother, who had lived with him for over twenty years, couldn’t tell them apart.

He stared coldly at the fake Zhou Yi. "Was it you who killed Wu Gui Shun in Nanshan Village?"

The impostor feigned surprise. "What? Uncle Wu passed away?" His performance was so convincing that Zhou Mo and his mother looked to Zhou Yi, clearly seeking confirmation.

"How do you know Wu Gui Shun is dead? I only said he was attacked—how did you know he died?" Zhou Yi pressed, his voice fierce.

A flicker of panic crossed the impostor’s eyes, but it quickly vanished. Before he could speak, Zhou Yi let out a cold laugh, pulled a doll from his pocket, and crushed it in his hand.

The impostor, seeing the doll in Zhou Yi’s hand, tried to snatch it but was too late—it was destroyed. In that instant, the impostor’s face transformed into that of a weasel, revealing him as a spirit disguised in human form.

With a shriek, the spirit launched itself at Zhou Yi. But Zhou Yi, now a demon-subduing adept who had cultivated blue qi, had no fear. He kicked at the spirit’s waist—the weasel, famed for its copper head, iron bones, and tofu waist, was vulnerable there.

The spirit dodged and tried to escape. Zhou Yi’s mother, who had been cooking, stood at the doorway watching the commotion. The spirit collided with her, and with a cruel laugh, turned to attack Zhou Yi. In that instant, the weasel’s soul possessed his mother.

Zhou Yi could only dodge, afraid to fight back lest he harm her. Zhou Mo, who had been watching, rushed in and grabbed their mother around the waist. "Second Brother, hurry!" Zhou Mo’s voice strained, for the possessed mother was now incredibly strong.

"You dare stop your own mother? You unfilial child!" she snarled. Zhou Mo instinctively released her, and she turned, biting at his neck.

Zhou Yi was at a loss, unsure how to proceed. He saw a quilt on the bed, quickly grabbed it and threw it over his mother. "Third Brother, get out!" Zhou Mo scrambled up, took the quilt, and held their mother tightly.

Zhou Yi could no longer hesitate. This weasel spirit had tormented him too many times—he would show no mercy. He formed a hand seal and recited: "All beings, rest in form. The disciple’s soul, the five organs hidden in mystery. Demons and monsters, come forth."

As the incantation ended, his mother’s struggles ceased, and a black mist surged from her body—the weasel’s soul. Zhou Yi extended a thread of spiritual energy, blocking its escape, and with a claw in the void, seized the spirit.

The spirit, caught, knew it could not escape and pleaded for mercy. But Zhou Yi ignored its cries, tightening his grip until the spirit’s wails faded and it vanished forever. "Your soul has dispersed—past grievances are carried away by the wind."

His mother awoke, weak from the ordeal of possession. Zhou Yi quickly took her hand and channeled a thread of spiritual energy into her. "Mother, rest well." Then he turned to Zhou Mo. "Come outside with me."

The two stepped out, and Zhou Yi handed Zhou Mo a handwritten manual of the Xuanming Qi Technique. "Commit this to heart. How far you advance depends on your own fate."

"Second Brother, where are you going?" Zhou Mo sensed the implication.

Zhou Yi shook his head, indicating Zhou Mo should not ask further. He took out two gold ingots and handed them to Zhou Mo. "Keep these. I’m leaving to seek the North Sea’s Mystic Ice—who knows when I’ll return. Take good care of Mother, and don’t be foolish anymore."

Zhou Mo accepted the gold ingots. "Second Brother, wherever you go, I’ll go too."

Zhou Yi waved him off. "Mother’s health is poor, and my leaving is already unfilial. You must stay. She can’t withstand another blow—don’t tell her any of this. My mind is made up; don’t try to persuade me."

He had come to terms with everything on his way back. Wu Qian’s treatment of him had felt like a knife to his heart. Why did she not trust him, not listen to his explanation? If she wouldn’t believe him, then he would no longer cling to her. If love could bring him such agony, it was better to sever it now. He never wanted to endure such pain again.

He didn’t want to disturb Baozi; he just needed solitude. He channeled his energy into his legs and headed for the temple in the mountains, for Beqiao was waiting there. His reliance on Beqiao now far surpassed that on brothers or friends. He knew that even if the whole world abandoned him, Beqiao would never leave.

He had wasted all that time trapped in the stone chamber, longing for the day he could see her again—yet when he finally did, how could it be like this? He forced himself not to think, but her face kept appearing in his mind. He stopped, shaking his head hard, trying to banish her shadow.

But after a moment, her gentle, smiling face, then her frightened, tear-streaked face, appeared again in his mind. Unknowingly, his face was already wet with tears.

ps: Today is Minor New Year. There’s much to do—I need to mail a contract at the courier company, and there might be a gathering with friends later. There may only be one chapter today; please understand.