After Mo Chengkong left, Ye Wen also came to. Although this time had been extremely risky, the result was satisfactory. He had temporarily fooled Mo Chengkong, but it was only a stopgap measure. In a few days, his Spiritual Power would return to normal, and then he definitely wouldn't be able to fool him anymore.
This time, Ye Wen had deliberately activated his Berserk skill. He felt that it was incredibly powerful. At the same time, he also felt that his mind couldn't support keeping it active. This wasn't because his mind was currently exhausted; it was as though his Spiritual Power's Upper Limit hadn't met the conditions for activating it.
The last time he'd managed to activate it had been entirely because of the Blood Drinker Devil Blade. Not only could it send him into a mysterious state of demonic transformation, it could also temporarily raise his Spiritual Power's Upper Limit by a huge amount.
After Ye Wen entered a state of Demonic Possession, the devil blade had sent the name directly into his soul: Blood Drinker Devil Blade! The blade contained an immense amount of energy; the power it had displayed last time was less than one ten-thousandth of what it held.
"What kind of weapon is this, exactly? What level of expert must there have been among Zhang Yuanchao's ancestors?"
"Ah, ah, Jingyi, Jingyi, Mo Ruxue! I'm going to kill you, kill you!"
Ye Wen's head began to throb violently again. Whenever he thought of Zhang Jingyi, his heart twisted with unbearable pain. He remembered her asking, "Does this mean I married you today?"
Ye Wen felt as if his heart were bleeding. He couldn't calm himself down at all. Especially when he thought of Mo Ruxue, a towering killing intent surged through him, as if it would break through the heavens and slay until the world changed color!
The intense killing intent caused Ye Wen's already pitiful mental state to collapse again. This time, he truly passed out.
What Ye Wen didn't know was that, a little over an hour after he fainted, Mo Chengkong had grown uneasy. After all, the last time Ye Wen had entered a state of Demonic Possession, even Mo Chengkong had been unable to defeat him in a head-on fight. So he returned to the seclusion room to check on him and found that Ye Wen was still unconscious. He couldn't help but marvel again.
"What terrifying demonic cultivation technique. Could this man have already been planted with a Demonic Seed? Whose Demonic Seed is this, to be so overbearing?"
After Mo Chengkong brought back the sealed Blood Drinker Devil Blade, he had tossed it into his old room in the City Lord's Mansion. At first, he'd planned to study the blade. When Zhang Yuanchao had first brought it back, the Zhang family's head at the time—Mo Ruxue's father—had taken it to show him. He'd only thought the blade's shape was very unusual and that it seemed rather old. He hadn't noticed anything else unusual, so he'd returned it to Zhang Yuanchao. After all, it was the only keepsake left behind after his son's death. Zhang Yuanchao had taken it home and casually thrown it into a corner, never to bother with it again. Now, Mo Chengkong suddenly didn't dare touch the devil blade. Ye Wen's wretched state was still vivid in his mind, and he didn't want to follow in his footsteps.
When Ye Wen came to again, he saw that Mo Chengkong had returned and was reading a book at the desk. Ye Wen muttered to himself, "It's this dark in here. How come you haven't gone blind, you old fossil?"
What Ye Wen didn't know was that once a Martial Artist reached Xiantian Fifth Rank, their eyes became as bright as torches, allowing them to see perfectly well in the dark.
Without even raising his head, Mo Chengkong said,
"You're awake. There's paper and a brush on the table over there. I got them ready for you. Go on! Write out your cultivation technique. If it's useful to me, I'm not an ungrateful man—I can let you leave."
The old fossil's low, sinister voice drifted over. His face was so unnaturally aged that it looked even more frightening.
"What happened to Zhang Jingyi's body?"
Ye Wen tried to control his thoughts and calm himself as he asked about what mattered most to him.
Mo Chengkong admired how the boy had flown into a rage for the sake of a beauty. After all, he'd been young once, too. But how many years had it been since his own blood had boiled like that? So he answered Ye Wen's question.
"I heard her grandfather took her away. They went back to their hometown!"
At that, Ye Wen finally felt a little better. His beloved hadn't been left exposed in the wilderness, nor had she been buried in a mass grave with dead Martial Artists.
"Back home, back home. Good! I'll come see you again."
Ye Wen muttered softly and quickly wiped away the tears at the corners of his eyes. He didn't want that old fossil to see him cry.
"If you want to live long enough to see her, you'd better write out your cultivation technique first. If it's useful to me, then you'll have the chance to see her!"
Mo Chengkong's sinister voice drifted over again.
"No! Why? Why does my head split with pain whenever I try to use the cultivation technique—or even think about it?"
Until he came up with a solution, Ye Wen had no choice but to keep stalling.
At that moment, Mo Chengkong tossed a small bottle at Ye Wen from across the room. It landed in his arms.
"Take this. Your Spiritual Power will recover quickly."
Ye Wen looked at the emerald-green bottle, poured out a pill, and smelled its fragrance. He took a deep breath. Sure enough, his mind immediately felt much better.
As Ye Wen continued to examine it, Mo Chengkong's gloomy voice rang out again.
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