Zhou Sheng had no illusions about what the demonic Blood Sect would be like.
Entering the sect meant agreeing to fight. Battles broke out daily, and deaths sometimes occurred—though as a blood cultivation sect, its members understood the benefit of keeping one’s enemy alive so as to continue to harvest their blood.
He had to fight to enter. His skills and his basic use of blood qi were enough to gain him entry.
The Blood Sect didn’t have any structured learning. Cultivation manuals were thrown at new disciples and they had to learn by themselves and struggled to survive.
This suited Zhou Sheng perfectly. He secluded himself and studied and practised using his own blood.
And the blood cultivation methods worked. While in seclusion, he finally broke through to Golden Core.
It was well known that demonic cultivation methods had quick initial gains but then became more and more difficult in the later stages. One of the reasons was because they relied on other people’s blood, other people’s flesh, other people’s deaths—but why would other people give up those things willingly?
Zhou Sheng had a line that he will not cross, so he only used his own blood. He hadn’t been lying to Lin Yijun.
Using his blood meant that he had to temper his body and enhance his blood. It reduced his cultivation speed at the early stages compared to other cultivators, since he couldn’t use up too much of his blood in one go.
However, using his own blood meant he became very perceptive of the quality and could guarantee the consistent effectiveness of the blood qi. It meant that his natural blood qi was much stronger than others at the same cultivation level.
This did not go unnoticed, and so the other cultivators did not leave him alone.
After all, it was a demonic sect.
He switched his weapon from a sword to a polearm with a long blade, and if someone followed him to fight, then he wouldn’t hold back. Sometimes, he would bait particularly scum cultivators on purpose.
The days passed, the ache of Lin Yijun’s distrust slowly became buried under the pain of everyday life.
Finally, a year ago, around the time of Golden Sun Sect’s Intra-Sect competitions, Zhou Sheng broke through to Nascent Soul. Lightning tribulation struck him. It was particularly cruel to demonic cultivators, but he survived it, his strong blood healing him fast.
But then he started to get a strong sense of, I have done this before. A sense of, Didn’t I advance to Nascent Soul a few years ago?
A split second before it happened, he knew he had been ambushed. They wanted the blood of a Nascent Soul cultivator.
He thought he could fight them, but the split-second I know what will happen next became hindrances as enemy spikes and blades ripped his flesh and spilled his blood.
In the last resort, Zhou Sheng activated a magical treasure that Lin Yijun had given him, long ago. It transported him to a random location.
High above in the air.
His body crashed. He fell unconscious.
Then the dreams started. Flashes of things he couldn’t quite grasp, but pain that he could feel very well.
In a half-state of consciousness, he ‘recalled’ of all the demonic creatures that would come to eat his flesh. The pain. How it took him longer and longer to heal enough to leave.
He had to work faster. The blood around him slowly dried and crumbled into dust as he consumed its qi.
One day passed. Another day. Another day.
Crunch, crunch. Footsteps.
Was this the first demonic beast to come?
But then, an unfamiliar warm qi flowed over him. In his weakened state, he couldn’t do anything.
“Shit, his mother! Are you still alive?”
Zhou Sheng frowned slightly at the swearing. A demonic or rogue cultivator?
Before he could say anything, the other cultivator crouched down by his side. “Need to make a stretcher, ba. Wait, damn it, no sticky tape...or sticks...”
More swearing…
Through slit eyes, Zhou Sheng realised that it was a Golden Sun Sect outer disciple.
The disciple was spreading out a blanket on the ground, securing one end to a floating sword. He picked Zhou Sheng up and placed him on the blanket. Holding the other end of the blanket, he and the sword lifted Zhou Sheng up a little.
“Nope, that didn’t work...fuck it.”
Zhou Sheng was put down again and partially wrapped up in the blanket. The other cultivator lifted him up, cradling him across the shoulders and knees. The cultivator then stepped on his sword and flew.
Zhou Sheng listened very, very carefully, ready to fight at a moment’s notice.
But instead of a qi-suppressing prison cell, he was taken to a nearby mortal town.
The other cultivator found a mortal doctor. After giving the mortal doctor some spiritual water, he simply left Zhou Sheng there.
The flashes of dreams continued. But in the mortal doctor’s clinic, there were no wild animals, no demonic beasts. With the spiritual water, the bandages, the mortal medicine, the mortal food, Zhou Sheng was able to heal just a bit faster.
He left as soon as possible to enact revenge on those who left him almost for dead.
But he couldn’t help but return multiple times.
Obscuring his aura, he infiltrated the Golden Sun Sect and heard that Lin Yijun was on a mission again (and again and again). On a few occasions, he did see Lin Yijun from afar. But his obscured aura meant that Lin Yijun never noticed him.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to see Lin Yijun. But he saw Lin Yijun’s face in his dreams often: with devastation, with anger, with his sword pointed to Zhou Sheng’s heart…
He saw the cultivator who saved him. He saw how this Wen Zhihao was warm and kind and supportive to his shidi, Sun Fuyu, who had also been picked up from the streets.
Zhou Sheng’s bitterness towards Lin Yijun increased. He was still grateful for Lin Yijun for saving him...but why hadn’t Lin Yijun been better?
While Zhou Sheng found some of Wen Zhihao’s actions peculiar—like selling magical items to mortals, like asking him to find someone to craft an item or talisman that would make a brush move—he was...good.
Zhou Sheng’s estrangement from his demonic Blood Sect increased, as did his headaches. Wen Zhihao and the forest around the Golden Sun Sect had soothing auras, so Zhou Sheng spent increasing time there while perfecting his ability to hide from Lin Yijun.
When Zhou Sheng had to leave, he would pick up some of the flowers in the forest that contained a little of that soothing aura.
Now, Zhou Sheng watched how Wen Zhihao coaxed the demonic wolf with nothing more than a bit of qi and some meat. Cultivator Wen pulled out some blankets from a spatial device and sat down with the sleepy demonic wolf stretched over his lap.
Zhou Sheng also wanted some sleep.
Due to the aura-cloaking magical treasure, Zhou Sheng couldn’t get the full effect of the heart-soothing aura. So he deactivated the treasure, immediately breathing in the warm qi.
The demonic wolf turned its head, eyes narrowing.
Wen Zhihao also turned his head. His lips curled up. “Cultivator Zhou Sheng, what a coincidence!” When the dog in his lap started to growl. Wen Zhihao frowned slightly, rubbing the dog’s body. “Sshhh, it’s just a new friend,” he coaxed it.
The demonic wolf made a sound of disagreement but ultimately decided to stay in this human’s lap.
With the dog calm again, Wen Zhihao looked up to where Zhou Sheng was standing. “Apologies, it’s a bit inconvenient for me to stand up…”
Zhou Sheng stepped forwards, out of the darkening forest. His black robes fluttered majestically as he slowly walked.
Such good real-life special effects, Wen Zhihao thought. He wondered what cultivation sect had such dashing black robes with red detail.
As his view of Zhou Sheng became clearer, Wen Zhihao’s brows creased slightly.
Zhou Sheng’s movements had a slightly stiff feeling, and the small amount of aura that Wen Zhihao could sense was not smooth. Maybe because Wen Zhihao had helped him before, but he suddenly felt a small sense of responsibility towards Zhou Sheng’s wellbeing.
“Cultivator Zhou, are you hangry—I mean, hungry?” Wen Zhihao went through one of his spatial rings and pulled out a food box. Inside, there were dumplings and steamed buns and fruit.
Zhou Sheng’s eyes flickered over the selection of food.
“Don’t be polite,” Wen Zhihao insisted. “Sit, eat. It’s good for you.”
Zhou Sheng wavered. “I…”
Wen Zhihao smiled. So he wants to be coaxed! “Come, eat. Do you want me to hand-feed you? Take the entire box, I have more.” To demonstrate, Wen Zhihao took out another two boxes of food.
Zhou Sheng’s eyes felt a bit hot. “En,” he finally accepted, carefully sitting down away from the demonic beast’s head. Under Wen Zhihao’s coaxing, he took a clean pair of chopsticks and picked up some dumplings.
They were delicious. Zhou Sheng never had them back at the Golden Sun Sect. Lin Yijun strongly preferred abstaining from all foods except for spiritual spring water. But the dumplings had soft, thin skin, and the fillings filled his mouth with rich savoury flavours.
“I didn’t know that people from the righteous sects ate such foods.”
Wen Zhihao laughed. “Saying it like that, are you a rogue or demonic cultivator?”
Zhou Sheng’s chopsticks paused as he looked at Wen Zhihao. “I am a demonic cultivator.”
Wen Zhihao startled. “You are?”
Zhou Sheng: “...”
Zhou Sheng: “..................”
Wen Zhihao: Don't know what's up with this world, but so many children are raised badly! Sun Fuyu, Zhang Wu, Wang Li Wei, and now Zhou Sheng! Poor kids, ba. Eat, I'll get Aunty Liu to make more food... Hm, cat-petting next...