A Thousand Gold Can't Buy My Willingness

"Disciple, you kept these three people by your side—is it because you intend to use them to test your medicine?"

Mo Ci's inquiry caused Chen Ye to pause, a look of confusion crossing his face: "Master, you aren't sleeping, just to ask this?" He muttered to himself, wasn't it said that one must remain in deep slumber to recover energy? How could he have the leisure to concern himself with such trivial matters?

"I am merely worried that you will expose your identity. While common folk may not know you use the methods of a Devilish Cultivator, once you encounter a righteous cultivator, a single slip of the tongue will leave you completely exposed. That business in Cui County was likely someone impersonating the Qinghe Sword Sect to collect young boys and girls; the Qinghe Sword Sect will certainly send people to investigate.

"You may think this place is far from Cui County, but the sword-flying arts of the Qinghe Sword Sect are the best in the world. A distance of a hundred miles is nothing to them; they can arrive in the blink of an eye..."

Mo Ci's words were filled with anxiety. He could not forget how that cold, clear sword light had easily sliced his magic treasure—which he had spent half a lifetime painstakingly refining—into two halves.

The Qinghe Sword Sect's swordsmanship being the best in the world was no empty boast.

With Chen Ye's current level of skill, he feared that before he could even catch a glimpse of the flashing sword light, his head would already be separated from his shoulders.

Chen Ye, however, interrupted his master's nagging, saying with full confidence: "If that is the reason, then this family of three must not be killed. Once the Qinghe Sword Sect cultivators see these three and ask a few questions, I will be a kind and benevolent cultivator who saved this family."

Mo Ci raged: "Foolish! If the Qinghe Sword Sect sees the Ten Thousand Soul Banner and the Wolf Blood Pill, how will you argue your way out of that? Do you think righteous cultivators are all idiots?"

"Rest assured, Master, I have already prepared my defense." Chen Ye cleared his throat, his tone shifting abruptly as if he had become a different person: "Great heroes, I truly do not know what crime I have committed. I merely picked up this talking white banner on the road. The old man inside said he was harmed by a villain and sealed within, claiming he would teach me cultivation and let me help him break free, and even promised to grant me three wishes. I truly did not know he was a bad person! I swear I have never harmed anyone, and I even used the methods he taught me to save others' lives..."

Mo Ci watched his disciple's spectacular performance. From his expression to his tone, everything was incredibly realistic. With his discernment, he couldn't find a single flaw.

Furthermore, when one thought about this excuse carefully, there was nothing wrong with it. This brat had only just stepped into the Qiling Realm, and in these few months of cultivation, he had indeed never harmed anyone; he could be considered clean. According to the rules of the Qinghe Sword Sect, this kid might not necessarily be convicted.

But Mo Ci immediately sensed something wrong and roared: "Wait, are you using me as a scapegoat to save your own skin?!"

What was this about being bewitched by an old man in a white banner? Wasn't this clearly delivering himself to the blades of those sword cultivators?

Chen Ye looked as if it were only natural: "What else could your disciple do? Master, we are Devilish Cultivators. At a critical moment, I will certainly sacrifice you to ensure my own survival. I am strictly following your teachings: never be soft-hearted when it matters most."

Mo Ci was so angered by Chen Ye that his soul nearly dissipated, but seeing the smile in the corners of the boy's eyes, he knew he was just being teased—the kid was intentionally mocking his own master. If he truly had such a cold heart, he would have long since seen his soul scattered and turned into nothingness.

Once his anger had mostly subsided, Mo Ci lowered his voice and asked: "Stop with the cheeky attitude. Tell me honestly, what is your true intention in saving this family of three?"

Chen Ye didn't stop walking, saying as he went: "I see that Zhao Hezhou is a decent man. After fleeing in such a sorry state for a hundred miles, I don't know how much suffering he has endured. Yet, even now, he still retains a bit of a scholar's pride, which is truly rare. I'm just giving him a step to climb down so he can save face."

Mo Ci let out a cold snort, mocking: "Hmph, just obsessed with face. This kind of man is not even as good as that woman; at least his wife is more decisive than him."

"True, his wife is also rare, even tougher than Zhao Hezhou. The couple clearly lived a life of luxury and are still young; having another child wouldn't be difficult. But to abandon everything and flee to a foreign land for the sake of their own flesh and blood—that is not something an ordinary person can do. Master, we have traveled to many places over these past few months. When others encounter forced conscription by the government, they do nothing but lock their doors and weep, lying to themselves that their children have truly joined an immortal sect. How many can actually flee with their whole family because of it? Zhao Hezhou is just a weak scholar. If he were truly cowardly and incompetent, how could he have persisted through this hundred-mile flight? He would have abandoned his wife and child long ago."

Chen Ye's words left Mo Ci silent for a moment. It wasn't because Chen Ye's reasoning was so sound, but because he realized that Chen Ye always had a habit of looking at the good in people, while he himself always fixated on their flaws.

In the end, he was still a young man, not yet worn down by the years into the suspicious, paranoid person he had become, always feeling that others were out to harm him.

If it were in the past, Mo Ci would have certainly lectured Chen Ye, making his disciple understand the malice of the human heart. But after Chen Ye used the Ten Thousand Soul Banner to preserve his soul, Mo Ci felt he no longer had the standing to point fingers at him.

If this disciple were truly as cold and heartless as he had been taught to be, would he still be lingering on in this world today?

This Ten Thousand Soul Banner, while called a devilish treasure, was in reality nothing but a burden to Chen Ye—it had no use at all and only served to invite trouble.

If he truly wanted to teach him how to avoid disaster, should he be advising him to throw away this Ten Thousand Soul Banner first?

Seeing his master silent, Chen Ye offered some comfort: "Master, everything I said earlier was just a joke. There is actually only one reason for saving this family."

Mo Ci asked curiously: "And what is that reason?"

Chen Ye laughed: "I cultivate the devilish path, which is all about doing as one pleases. Why save them? Of course, it's because I felt like it. That is enough; there is no need for any other reason."

Mo Ci: ...

This kid, he really was a devil cultivator; it was impossible to tell which of his words were sincere. Forget it, he might as well sleep again.

Mo Ci let out a cold snort and sank back into the Ten Thousand Soul Banner, saying nothing more.

Chen Ye treated it as nothing more than a casual chat between master and disciple, completely unaffected. With a spring in his step, he vanished into the mountain forest once again.

Before long, birds were startled from the trees, and the howling of wolves echoed one after another.

From sunrise to sunset, Chen Ye carried several dead wolves back to the ruined temple.

As soon as he entered, he saw that the two tied-up wild boars had already died, their tusks broken and blood flowing from their seven orifices—a truly gruesome sight. The small birds in the cage had also lost most of their feathers and were covered in wounds. Without a doubt, these animals had experienced extreme agony before they died.

Seeing Chen Ye return, Zhao Hezhou's face turned pale as paper. With trembling hands, he offered the linen cloth, his voice shaking: "Warrior, I have carefully recorded the appearance of the wild boars and birds before the poison took effect. Please, take a look."

After Chen Ye took the linen cloth covered in charcoal writing, Zhao Hezhou seemed unable to hold it in any longer, running to the side to retch.

Chen Ye did not mock Zhao Hezhou for his cowardice, but instead studied the records carefully. A moment later, a look of pleasant surprise appeared on his face.

Chen Ye had not misjudged him. Although Zhao Hezhou was a weak scholar, he still possessed the backbone of a man of letters; he had truly given his all to the task he promised. From the onset of the poison to its end, he had recorded the entire process in great detail. His word choice wasn't the flowery, meaningless prose of a scholar, but a vivid and precise description of the entire ordeal.

Looking at Zhao Hezhou's current state, one could only wonder how he had forced himself to watch it all.

Chen Ye found the key in these records. Whether it was the wild boars or the birds, although the time it took for the poison to take effect varied, the symptoms were similar. When the poison struck, they would all emit long, shrill cries. Though the sounds differed, they all tilted their heads and stretched their necks, much like a wolf howling. During their struggles, they would also bite at everything frantically. Even though the birds only had beaks to peck with, these birds had acted as if they were wolves, opening their mouths to bite and shaking their heads from side to side.

Zhao Hezhou had recorded these details with particular clarity; they were likely not false.

Could it be that the Wolf Blood Pill caused the user to take on the habits of a wolf?

Chen Ye raised an eyebrow, feeling that he had found a crucial clue.