Chapter 1357: No Return

In the realm of Chen, lies the Valley of No Return.

A perpetual mist hangs here, day and night, birthing tales of ghostly occurrences without end.Yet, within the valley, tranquility reigns, especially this night, with sparse stars and a bright moon. A wooden hut stands by the clear stream, where a sense of peaceful stillness gently flows.

"Woof woof woof!"

The old yellow dog suddenly barks.

This outburst shatters the quiet night, rippling the clear stream, the moonlight fracturing upon the water's surface.The valley awakens.

Before the wooden hut, a folding stool is placed, upon which a white-haired elder slumbers.

"What's all the noise about?" He mumbles in discontent, his eyes still closed.

"Boss, it's me."

A young man with long hair and blood-red eyes pierces the soft night, striding quickly towards the elder.

"Woof woof woof!"

The old yellow dog, lying at the corner of the hut, barks at him again, appearing quite fierce.Alas, its bone-weary, aged appearance offers little in the way of deterrence.It merely bullies this "newcomer" who dares not contradict it.

The elder on the folding stool opens his eyes and glances over: "Oh, little snake."

Fang Heling has long grown accustomed to this.

He says calmly, "I am little crane."

"Little crane..." The elder stands up, leans towards him, and says mysteriously, "There's a woman in my room, do you know who she is? She's lying on my bed, making it impossible for me to sleep!"

"It is the Mask-Removing Adult," Fang Heling replies.

"Oh..." The elder muses for a moment, "Who?"

Fang Heling thinks for a moment, then covers his face with his left hand: "It is Adult Yanzi."

"Yan...zi." The elder murmurs, "Yan...I am Yan Chunhui...Yan Chunhui is me!"

"Jiang Mengxiong!"

He suddenly twists his body, gazing towards the east. The muddiness in those old eyes is suddenly washed clean, like the clear stream washing the bright moon, a layer of sharp, clear light surges forth!

The clear stream before the wooden hut seems to freeze.

The old yellow dog instantly tucks its tail between its legs.

There is no wind, and seemingly no stars or moon either.

Fang Heling lowers his gaze and stands still, unmoving.

"How was your trip this time?" The elder has completely changed his tone. Though his voice still carries the weariness of age, it now possesses a flavor of indifference, as if looking down upon all living beings.

"The matters you entrusted have all been completed," Fang Heling says.

The elder takes out a yellowed ancient text from his bosom and hands it to him, saying, "This is the sword manual you desired, a fierce sword that was already intolerable to the world during the age of flying swords..."

Fang Heling silently receives it.

He does not express gratitude, for there is no need for thanks.With the head of the demons and humans, giving and receiving are always equal.And this is what he deserves.

"You can still consider it now," the elder says.

"This is my choice," Fang Heling replies.

"May you rest early," he bows to the elder and turns to leave.

He walks with firm resolve.

This is an era of emerging prodigies.

He cannot walk quickly, so he walks thus.

"Woof woof woof!"

Perhaps having been calm for a while, the old yellow dog feels capable once more. Thus, it barks fiercely at Fang Heling's retreating figure, appearing mighty and impressive.

The elder glances at it.

It immediately shuts its mouth and wags its tail flatteringly.

"Stupid dog, can't even pick on the weak." The elder shakes his head and walks into the wooden hut.

The old yellow dog wags its tail, seeing him in, appearing very obedient.

After he has entered the wooden hut.

The old yellow dog immediately tilts its head and spits: "Pah!"

It actually speaks in human tongue: "Is there a single good person in this dilapidated valley of yours? Where am I supposed to find soft persimmons to bully?"

It curses angrily for a moment, then lies down listlessly again, narrowing its eyes.

The structure of the wooden hut is very simple.

There is only a kitchen, a main hall, and a bedroom.Entering leads directly into the main hall, the kitchen is to the left, and the bedroom is to the right.

In the main hall, an Eight Immortals table stands against the wall, surrounded by three benches.On the table are a few small dishes, covered with a bamboo woven cover to keep away insects and flies.

Looking up, a black wooden shrine hangs on the wall.Within the shrine is an incense burner, burning incense, and even accumulated half a burner of incense ash... but no divine statue.Not even a painting of a god is present.One wonders what is being worshipped.

Other than that, the main hall is empty.

Yan Chunhui turns directly to the right and walks into the bedroom.

This bedroom still maintains the simple overall style.The bed is a very simple and narrow single bamboo bed, leaning against the wall by itself, without even a bed curtain, let alone any other decorations.

Something that is somewhat out of place with the style of the entire house is—

By the window in the bedroom, a magnificent zither is placed.From its carvings to the luster of its strings... everything speaks of "preciousness."It is the ultimate in craftsmanship, the ultimate in ingenuity, that could create such a treasure.And it quietly sits there, waiting for a pair of hands to play upon it.

The wooden window is closed, and should have been closed for a long time.So this zither should also have been lonely for a long time... even if it is as lustrous as new.

Yan Chunhui's gaze falls upon the bamboo bed.

At this moment, a "person" is lying on the bed...If she can still be called a person.

She has the "shape" of a person, a person's head, facial features... but not entirely a person's limbs.Where a left hand should be, there is likely a claw.Where a right hand should be, it resembles an elephant's leg.The torso is like a patchwork of different animals, some with fur, some with spines, not only uneven but also of inconsistent colors...Where the legs should be is somewhat uniform, being two brightly colored snake tails.

And the "person" lying there has her eyes tightly closed.Her face is bloody.

Yan Chunhui walks forward, looks closely, and his wrinkled eyelids lift slightly.

Thus, the sound of a sword's hum arises.

The "person" on the bed immediately opens her eyes.She looks at the white-haired Yan Chunhui, with a moment of daze.

But that sudden daze quickly shatters.The most handsome man in Chen back then is now merely a forgetful old fella.

And she...

Her eyes dare not move, but after gradually regaining consciousness, she reveals extreme fear."I died. And then you... saved me?" she asks tremblingly.

Yan Chunhui nods.

Her terrifying conjecture is validated. Tears immediately flow, and she is almost out of control.She roars: "Surname Yan, Yan Chunhui! Why did you save me! Why did you save me? You scoundrel! You damned... damned! Who allowed you to save me with such filthy methods!"

Yan Chunhui watches her quietly, without saying a word.

She on the bamboo bed curses for a while, and finally seems to lose strength, crying in sobs: "I should have died long ago, I should have died three hundred years ago! Why... How dare you!"

"Don't cry," Yan Chunhui says.

His comfort is weak, and muddled. Like forcefully wringing a rag, squeezing out two drops of sewage. Squeezing it out seems to have finally completed something, but when it falls, it only dirties the place.

Only Yanzi's eyeballs can move, but the residual image she catches is enough for her to confirm her conjecture and know what kind of horrifying state she is in.She cries out in an extremely unpleasant manner.