Chapter Nineteen: A Bitter Victory

All the powerful figures present were struck by Gu Zhiheng’s unorthodox approach; their eyes gleamed with interest, and their curiosity toward him deepened. Each of them had lived for over a thousand years, having stepped into the realm of half-immortality, with several already at the threshold of becoming true immortals. If it weren’t for the strict current restrictions forbidding spirits and beasts from ascending, none of them would have remained at the same cultivation level for so many years.

Yet here they all were, taking on human form, living out mundane lives among mortals. They understood well enough what the appearance of the Gu family’s young heir signified, and so they earnestly hoped for his success.

“Lord Black Serpent, forgive me!” Gu Zhiheng felt his strength waning—he had only one move left. If he could land it, victory would be his. It seemed today’s sparring match would push him to his limits.

Suddenly, Gu Zhiheng straightened, a wicked grin flickering across his face. Everyone watched, puzzled—had the boy been struck senseless? But in the next instant, Gu Zhiheng’s actions left all present utterly astonished.

The boy was mad—a lunatic who would stop at nothing!

He became the vessel for a forbidden art, drawing upon the power of heaven and earth, inscribing talismans through the void itself, while simultaneously channeling his cultivation to forge a contract seal.

Madness! The entire Gu family must be mad! For a mere sparring match, he dared risk everything, conjuring such a spectacle.

“You win, boy!” Mo Han’s grandfather, sensing things spiraling out of control, intervened, dissolving the half-formed talisman and incomplete contract seal before Gu Zhiheng could finish.

This boy! Not only was he on the verge of defeating his grandson, but he’d nearly contracted the clan chief of the Black Serpents.

“My word, this boy is remarkable! Could he take me as his master?” The Tigerwing clan chief, unable to contain his excitement, nearly barreled over to Gu Zhiheng, rambling on in hopes of staking his claim before anyone else.

“Esteemed elder, I cannot accept your tutelage,” Gu Zhiheng replied with a helpless smile. The Gu family’s rule was clear: no discipleship under outsiders—especially not spirits or beasts.

With this single fight, Gu Zhiheng’s name was made, though the duel had ended without a clear result. Yet everyone present could see the truth plainly enough. Had Gu Zhiheng unleashed his spell and talisman, Mo Han would have been defeated—no matter how formidable Mo Han was. Under such circumstances, either the contract would have succeeded, or Mo Han would not have survived. If not for his grandfather’s timely intervention, Mo Han’s fate today would have been sealed.

“Lord Black Serpent, my apologies,” Gu Zhiheng said, offering a deep bow. He knew his victory had not been entirely honorable. But this was the result he’d gambled on: for someone to step in, and for the win to be granted to him.

“It’s nothing. I accept your proposal,” the Black Serpent replied. At last, he could escape the clutches of the old men. The company could be left to Mo Bai, and he could finally go and enjoy his freedom.

“My, boy, you were impressive just now! Fancy a little sparring with me?” A burly, broad-shouldered figure—an authentic wild boar spirit—stepped forward with a mischievous glint.

“Esteemed elders, truly, I…” Gu Zhiheng protested feebly. This was too much!

They didn’t even give him a chance to refuse. Attack after attack rained down on him, and Gu Zhiheng was nearly in tears. Could he accuse them of ganging up on the weak? Of elders bullying a child?

“Sis! Help me!” he cried, but his sister was laughing heartily.

“Zhiheng, the elders are being so warm and welcoming. Do play along!” Chu Xingran declined to help, turning on her heel and leaving him to his fate.

Now Gu Zhiheng was full of regret—he should have kept a lower profile earlier. Now he was being bullied relentlessly by this horde of ancient spirits. Five old geezers against a single youth—was this not too much?

An hour later, Gu Zhiheng was barely recognizable as a human. His hair was a tangled mess, with weeds and twigs sticking out at odd angles. His clothes were in tatters, more ragged than a beggar’s, caked with mud and stamped with countless footprints, impossible to tell man from beast. His face was battered and bruised, his eyes so swollen they were reduced to narrow slits. His shoes had vanished at some point, and the soles of his feet burned with pain.

Even the group of elders finally realized they’d gone too far, and, sheepish, they slunk away one by one.

Left in the vast courtyard, Gu Zhiheng was at a loss whether to laugh or cry. So much for a friendly spar—this was just a venting of their longstanding resentment toward the Gu family, an opportunity for them to unleash their pent-up ire.

“Good heavens, who the hell are you?” Chen Yuan—usually a refined little earthworm—actually swore aloud at the sight. Where had this beggar come from, and how had he gotten in?

Gu Zhiheng struggled to answer, “It’s… me…” and then his voice faded. For a fleeting moment, the world fell silent.

He collapsed to the ground, leaving Chen Yuan dumbfounded. Ninth… Ninth Master?

Oh my heavens. This was disastrous. What had they done to him?

“Sister Ran! Sister Ran! Come quickly!” Chen Yuan hollered into the house at the top of her lungs.

Mo Han and Chu Xingran, who had been about to rest, were startled by the commotion. They rushed outside, only to find Gu Zhiheng lying on the ground, gazing at Chen Yuan in utter bewilderment.

Nervously, Chen Yuan stammered, “I… I… I don’t know either!” She truly had no idea what had happened. She’d just stepped out, still unclear about the situation, when Ninth Master fainted dead away.

“It’s all right—he just passed out from exhaustion. Let’s take him inside,” Mo Han said, a little embarrassed, unable to meet Gu Zhiheng’s gaze. Those old men had truly lacked all integrity. Five elders, with a combined age of seven or eight thousand years, bullying a child. By the reckoning of spirits and beasts, Gu Zhiheng was still little more than a toddler.

They called Gu Zhiheng a lunatic, but now it seemed the real madmen were those old relics.

“Zhiheng, Zhiheng, wake up!” Chu Xingran, unceremoniously vigorous as ever, pinched his arm when he didn’t respond.

Sure enough, Gu Zhiheng roused. These days, it seemed, even fainting didn’t guarantee peace—he’d be pinched awake regardless.

“Get up quickly. You’ll catch a cold lying on the ground. Come inside, get cleaned up, and put on some medicine before you sleep,” Chu Xingran said, her heart aching at the sight of him.

But she had promised herself to keep a certain distance now that she was with Mo Han. And yet, seeing him bullied so cruelly by those old creatures, she couldn’t bring herself to stand by. After all, she had loved him for so many years.

“All right, but next time, pinch a little less hard—it really hurts,” he muttered softly, slowly struggling to his feet.

With the three of them watching, he staggered into the villa.

Indeed, lying out here would only give him a cold. And if he fell ill, it seemed no one would be there to tend to him.

He could see that Chu Xingran had been deliberately avoiding him lately, always keeping a careful distance. Perhaps he’d done something wrong and she was angry with him. Or maybe it was because of Mo Han—perhaps Mo Han didn’t want his sister too close to him.

Still, what was the point in dwelling on such troubles? They were all worries that led nowhere.