Chapter 30: Human Immortal Wu Mohe

The moment those words left his mouth, the twilight-draped courtyard fell suddenly silent.

The wind died down.

The lantern beneath the eaves stopped swaying, its flickering candlelight casting half of Zhao Yong's face in shifting light and shadow.

Chen Lingxi stared at Zhao Yong, seemingly still caught in surprise and doubt.

Zhao Yong remained unmoved. He merely stood with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for him to digest the news.

A few breaths later, Zhao Yong spoke again.

This time, no sound escaped his lips.

Instead, his lips parted slightly, and a hair-thin wisp of blood-qi silently slipped from his throat. It condensed without scattering, shooting straight into Chen Lingxi's ear like an invisible thread.

Threading blood-qi into silk for secret sound transmission!

Chen Lingxi was greatly startled.

He had heard Jiang Yuan mention this—it was a method of the Golden Body realm!

This Zhao Yong, this old chief steward, was actually one of those rumored Golden Body figures who could rival a thousand armored soldiers?

"The world is already descending into chaos." Zhao Yong's voice rang in Chen Lingxi's ears, every word distinct and clear, yet without a single sound leaking outward.

"Great Li is steeped in sin. Emperor Daye oppresses the people with exorbitant taxes and endless levies. He ordered the massive excavation of canals, digging forty-nine channels in just two years. Thirty million unjustly slain souls wail in the long night, and bones lie exposed across ninety thousand li of wilderness."

"Your father, your mother, your entire household—all were beheaded, simply because of a single word of mirror divination from that venomous woman."

Zhao Yong's gaze rested on Chen Lingxi's face. Two clusters of dark flame suddenly ignited within his dry, well-like eyes.

"Chen Lingxi, are you willing to act as the vanguard—to join me, to join Liu Changle, to join all of us, and avenge this sea of blood?"

As his voice faded, the courtyard returned to a dead silence.

Chen Lingxi froze in place.

The shock on his face wasn't entirely feigned—Zhao Yong's words carried far too much information.

A rebel!

Zhao Yong was a rebel!

The chief steward of the Baosu Marquis Residence, a man who held vast authority within the manor and enjoyed Lin Suri's deep trust—Zhao Yong was actually a rebel.

Moreover... how did he dare to be so bold, exposing his true identity to a mere official bondservant?

Thoughts spun rapidly in Chen Lingxi's mind, but his gaze remained fixed on Zhao Yong's face.

He saw the look in Zhao Yong's eyes.

What burned in those dry, well-like eyes right now was not trust or expectation, but something far sharper, something much colder.

It was certainty.

Zhao Yong was certain he would agree.

Or rather, Zhao Yong was certain he wouldn't dare refuse.

Chen Lingxi's heart chilled, and he immediately understood.

He had no choice.

If he refused, Zhao Yong would never let him leave alive.

Lin Longyue's protection? Distant water couldn't quench a present thirst.

'Secret sound transmission! Golden Body!'

Chen Lingxi recalled Zhao Yong's methods.

For a figure in the Golden Body realm, killing an official bondservant at the Bronze-Red minor mastery stage was merely a matter of snapping a finger.

After killing him, Zhao Yong could pull out any excuse: a sudden illness, or dying from a medicine-testing toxin.

Even if Lin Longyue grew suspicious, she wouldn't be able to find a shred of evidence.

As for Lin Longyue's earlier declaration that 'Chen Lingxi is directly under my jurisdiction from now on,' in Zhao Yong's eyes, it was probably not even worth mentioning.

Would a Golden Body expert, a likely rebel, truly fear Lin Longyue?

Chen Lingxi ran these thoughts through his mind, yet his face only revealed a mixture of struggle, hesitation, and terror. His lips parted a few times as if he wanted to speak, but he swallowed the words back.

Zhao Yong stood with his hands behind his back, not rushing him.

He was waiting.

Waiting for Chen Lingxi to figure it out himself.

A few breaths later, Chen Lingxi looked up. The struggle on his face faded somewhat, replaced by a careful, probing expression.

"Chief Steward Zhao..." he began, his voice pressed extremely low as if fearing the walls had ears. "Allow me to be bold and ask... under which King's banner do you serve?"

Hearing this, the smile on Zhao Yong's lips deepened.

His hands, still clasped behind his back, gently clapped, as if praising Chen Lingxi's tact.

"The King this old man serves..." he said, his voice as calm as ever. But beneath that calm lay an unconcealable reverence and fanaticism. "...is the reincarnation of an Immortal."

Chen Lingxi's eyebrows twitched slightly.

Zhao Yong continued, "He once splashed ink to cure a plague, and flipped his palm to restore flesh to bare bones. He also lifted a cauldron to crush a thousand men, his wrath drawing blood across a hundred li."

He paused, then spoke word by word.

"He is the Human Immortal—Wu Mohe!"

Wu Mohe.

Those three words fell into Chen Lingxi's ears like a massive boulder crashing into the center of a lake, stirring up rippling waves.

Of course he had heard the name.

Among the nineteen rebel kings across the Great Li Dynasty, the one with the greatest momentum was Xiao Changlv, who called himself the Heaven-Severing Evil King. Commanding three hundred thousand troops, he had captured twelve provinces in succession, beating the imperial army into constant retreat.

And following closely behind him was this Human Immortal, Wu Mohe.

The man's origins were a mystery, as if he had appeared out of thin air. He raised the banner of righteousness in the Huainan Circuit three years ago, gathering an army of tens of thousands in just a few short months.

Rumors said he possessed true divine powers. When a plague ravaged the Huainan Circuit, he splashed ink into the sky, and wherever the ink fell, the pestilence vanished. When refugees starved to death on the road, he stroked their faces with a flipped palm, and the dead actually sat back up.

In one particular battle, when surrounded by a thousand imperial armored soldiers in a desolate valley, he stood alone, lifting and throwing a massive cauldron to kill over three hundred men, scattering the rest.

These legends circulated widely in the Jingji Circuit. In the teahouses and taverns of Yuanjiang Prefecture, storytellers vividly recounted his deeds, drawing cheers from the packed crowds at every thrilling climax.

Shock washed over Chen Lingxi's face, soon shifting into a complex, indescribable expression.

Hesitation.

Struggle.

And finally, it turned into a trace of... longing.

"Chief Steward Zhao," Chen Lingxi said, his voice trembling. "If I... agree to this, can I... truly get my revenge?"

As he asked, his burning gaze locked onto Zhao Yong, the longing in his eyes practically spilling over.

Zhao Yong looked into his eyes and slowly nodded.

There were no unnecessary words.

Chen Lingxi took a deep breath.

He lowered his head and stayed silent for a few breaths.

Then he looked up again, the struggle in his eyes completely gone, replaced by a bridge-burning resolve.

"I, Chen Lingxi, am willing to serve you."

Zhao Yong looked at his face, a smile touching his lips.

He didn't say much. Reaching into his robes, he drew out an object and offered it to Chen Lingxi.

It was a flower.

The flower was tiny, no larger than an infant's fist. Its deep purple petals were layered together, looking like countless pieces of thin silk glued into one.

At the heart of the flower was a speck of golden stamen, emitting a faint medicinal fragrance.

"This is a Mohe Flower," Zhao Yong said solemnly, placing it into Chen Lingxi's hands. "Nurture it day and night; do not let it wither. When the Mohe Envoy arrives in Yuanjiang Prefecture, they will follow the fragrance to find you and pass down the Mohe Profound Art to you."

Chen Lingxi accepted the flower with both hands, looking down at it.

The petals trembled slightly in his palm, as if breathing.

Cupping the flower against his chest, he spoke respectfully, "I will commit this to memory."

Zhao Yong gave a grunt of acknowledgment, turned with his hands behind his back, and walked toward the courtyard gate.

Pausing by the door, he turned his head slightly.

"Wait quietly for the opportunity, and await my orders."

With that said, he lingered no longer, his silhouette vanishing into the deepening night.

His footsteps faded away, quickly scattered by the wind.

Chen Lingxi stood motionless, holding the Mohe Flower.

The lantern under the eaves swayed gently in the wind, casting his shadow onto the bluestone ground, stretching and shrinking with the light.

The deep purple petals gleamed with a cold luster in the dim light. The golden stamen at its core trembled lightly, like a living, breathing creature.

Chen Lingxi watched it for a long time, before suddenly—

He let out a cold sneer.

He carried the flower back into the small room in the courtyard, closed the door, and set the Mohe Flower on the desk.

Then, sitting down at the table, he focused his eyes to inspect it under the final thread of daylight filtering through the window lattice.

'Zhao Yong.'

He silently repeated the name, his sneer deepening.

'He actually spun such nonsense just to keep using me as a medicinal primer.'

'Eighty percent of what he just said was a lie.'

His certainty wasn't based on empty speculation.

'Before I killed Wang Kong, I asked about Liu Changle's whereabouts.'

Wang Kong had answered clearly: Liu Changle vanished into thin air. Enraged, Zhao Yong had beaten every servant in the Northern Courtyard but failed to beat the location out of them, and kept searching for several days.

If Zhao Yong had truly freed Liu Changle, why make such a massive fuss?

It might be different in other estates, but here in the Baosu Marquis Residence, the Marquis was in secluded cultivation, and Lin Suri focused solely on his own training without managing the manor.

For Zhao Yong to release an official bondservant was merely a matter of a single word. It would be done quietly, and no one would question it.

Even the government offices would be the same.

Why would he put on an act of fury, beating people and ordering searches until the whole estate knew?

Zhao Yong held an extraordinary position in the manor, gripping immense authority.

If he really was the one who released Liu Changle, no one would dare question him, let alone force him into such hypocrisy.

There was only one possibility: Liu Changle's disappearance was outside Zhao Yong's control.

That was why he grew angry, ordered the search, and turned the Northern Courtyard upside down.

With this in mind, Zhao Yong's claim that he was the one who let Liu Changle go fell apart on its own.

Chen Lingxi shook his head, his gaze falling onto the Mohe Flower.

This was the second reason.

He picked up the flower, brought it close to his nose, and took a deep breath.

Then, he closed his eyes. The stream of spiritual qi in his dantian slowly flowed out, surging along the meridians of his right arm to pour into the Mohe Flower.

The moment his spiritual qi touched the petals, Chen Lingxi's mind violently jolted.

His spiritual qi clearly sensed it—hidden within the flower's medicinal fragrance was a dark, murky toxicity.

Just like the Dragon-Drawing Powder.

Chen Lingxi tried drawing the toxin into his body to analyze the difference.

Half a shichen passed.

Chen Lingxi finally exhaled a breath of turbid air.

'This toxicity isn't as fierce as the Dragon-Drawing Powder. It's incredibly slow, incredibly concealed.'

'After entering the body, it accumulates silently. One day, two days, a month, two months... it remains dormant.'

'But once the accumulated amount crosses a certain threshold, it will explosively erupt.'

Looking at the seemingly delicate flower in his hand, Chen Lingxi could no longer suppress his sneer.

'Oh, Zhao Yong.'

'This medicinal fragrance is no different from the Dragon-Drawing Powder. You merely swapped it for a milder method, intending to steep me in this toxic air day and night to slowly cultivate a more suitable medicinal primer.'

"Just what kind of medicine is Zhao Yong trying to refine? To be this obsessed with a medicinal primer..." Chen Lingxi muttered to himself. "A Golden Body realm expert, yet he goes to such lengths to deceive me. I suppose he thinks highly of me."

"And him... could it be he still doesn't know Wang Kong is dead? He didn't ask about it at all."

As he pondered, he walked to the window, found a Small Celadon Vase, filled it halfway with clean water, inserted the flower, and placed it on the windowsill.

Moonlight filtered through the window, resting on the deep purple petals and making that layer of cold luster even more pronounced.

"With the Concealed Edge Method, this poison is completely harmless to me."

"This is for the best." Chen Lingxi stared at the flower, his gaze tranquil. "He thinks I've fallen into his trap, so he won't be in a rush to make a move against me. That buys me time."

He needed time.

The more time passed, the higher his Qi Circulation cultivation and blood-qi would rise. His Cyan Edge Method would grow stronger, and his Concealed Edge Method would reach perfection.

By the time Zhao Yong realized this medicinal primer could never be cultivated, he might no longer be the official bondservant who could be kneaded at will.