The Mad Old Man Had Truly Gone Mad

Only now did Long Zhanye finally manage to make out the old man's appearance from this closer distance.

He wore tattered clothes stiff with grime, their original color almost impossible to discern.

His long gray-white hair was tangled like wild grass, hanging loose past his shoulders!

Not only was it matted into knots, but it also concealed most of his face, leaving only a faint glimmer of dull eyes visible through the greasy strands.

An indescribable stench, mixed with old filth, medicine, and something rotten, assaulted Long Zhanye's face as the old man drew near.

It made his stomach churn, and he nearly threw up.

The Mad Old Man seemed oblivious to his disgust and extended a hand as withered as a bird's claw.

Slowly and clumsily, he undid several buttons on Long Zhanye's shirt, exposing the youth's thin chest.

Then he picked up a battered wooden ladle beside him, scooped a ladleful of icy water from the bucket at his feet, and tipped his wrist—

Splash!

The freezing water struck the bare skin over Long Zhanye's heart, making his whole body shudder as he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Blood chilled with cold water... is the best."

The Mad Old Man muttered to himself as he raised the glinting knife, its tip aimed at the right side of Long Zhanye's chest.

At that critical moment.

The Mad Old Man's knife-wielding hand seemed to sense something unusual and suddenly froze in midair.

His eyes, hidden beneath his tangled hair, appeared to be staring intently at Long Zhanye's chest?!

After hesitating briefly, he actually extended the dirty finger of his other hand and pressed it very lightly against the wet skin over Long Zhanye's heart.

A moment later.

He jerked his hand back as though electrocuted, letting out a short, startled gasp.

Immediately after.

With his free hand, he impatiently swept aside the filthiest, most tangled strands hanging over his forehead.

For the first time, his entire face was clearly exposed beneath the lamplight—and to Long Zhanye's horrified gaze.

What a gaunt face it was!

His complexion was the sickly pallor of someone who had not seen daylight for a long time. His cheeks were sunken, and his cheekbones jutted high.

His skin clung tightly to his bones, his wrinkles etched as deeply as knife marks. At first glance, he looked seventy or eighty percent like a skeleton's skull.

Yet at this moment, a crazed, piercing light erupted from the deeply sunken eye sockets on that face.

He stared fixedly at Long Zhanye's chest. "Trash!"

He suddenly shrieked, his voice full of disappointment and a strange fury. "Your heartbeat is weak, your blood and vitality are withered, and your foundation is nearly destroyed..."

"You're trash! Even your Martial Soul has been crippled! What are you doing here?!"

"Get out! Go, go, go! Trash isn't welcome here!"

This sudden turn left Long Zhanye completely dumbfounded.

One moment, the old man had wanted to draw his blood. The next, he was driving him out because he was "trash"?

Before he could react, the Mad Old Man slashed down with his knife. With a few swift cuts, he severed the hemp ropes binding him.

Then.

Like he was swatting away a fly, the old man roughly dragged him from the chair and shoved him toward the door without explanation.

Long Zhanye staggered to his feet, his heart still pounding wildly from the danger and lingering fear.

Looking at this old man whose behavior was utterly erratic and whose moods changed without warning, he thought, As expected of the Mad Old Man. He's impossible to reason with!

He rubbed his painfully bound wrists and cast a fearful glance at the organs silently displayed inside the glass jars.

Not daring to linger any longer, he turned and hurried toward the open wooden door.

Stop!!!

An even shriller roar exploded behind him!

Long Zhanye was scared out of his wits. How could he dare stop?

Instinctively, he tried to sprint outside. However, his ruined body simply could not withstand such violent movement.

After only two steps, a tearing pain twisted through his chest. His legs gave out, and he fell face-first onto the ground in a miserable heap.

Footsteps sounded behind him, slow and dragging, yet carrying a suffocating pressure.

Long Zhanye struggled to get up, but his entire body was weak and limp.

He turned back in terror and saw the skeletal Mad Old Man slowly walking toward him, step by step.

At last, he stopped before him and looked down at him.

The anger and disappointment had vanished from that skull-like face.

In their place was a bizarre expression that blended extreme excitement with a kind of manic calculation.

He crouched down, his face nearly pressing against Long Zhanye's nose, and the stench grew even stronger.

In a dreamlike yet exceptionally clear voice, he said each word slowly: "Your Martial Soul... was forcibly crippled by an external force."

"But... your Soul Power... did not collapse and fall away with it..."

"It is even... still circulating and nourishing itself at an extremely slow, nearly stagnant pace..."

He suddenly reached out, his withered fingers clamping around Long Zhanye's wrist like iron pincers. A weak yet exceptionally pure and strange strand of Soul Power instantly entered his body.

The old man's eyes widened further, terrifying brilliance bursting from them. "That's impossible..."

"Unless... unless you, brat... possess a second Martial Soul!!!"

Long Zhanye was shaken to the core by this sudden diagnosis and interrogation.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, then admitted in a dry voice, "Y-yes... so what?"

"Ha... Hahahaha!!!"

Upon hearing this, the Mad Old Man abruptly released him. His entire body seemed to be pulled upright by invisible strings as he flailed his arms and legs.

He spun madly in circles around the empty chamber, unleashing a string of hysterical laughter.

The laughter was shrill and grating, filled with wild delight, only to suddenly twist into boundless grief and fury at its peak.

"Heavens! You truly are blind!! Hahahaha!"

While laughing madly, he pounded his chest with his fists, looking utterly deranged. "My Body Sect! Hidden away from the world, lying low, its inheritance difficult to preserve! And finally..."

"Finally, the heavens opened their eyes and bestowed a Twin Martial Souls talent seen once in a century! A born genius! The sect's future hope!!"

"But why... why was his first Martial Soul crippled by someone?!"

"Ah?! Why?!"

"You want to cut off the roots of our Body Sect! You want to destroy the future of our Body Sect!!!"

His wild laughter gradually turned into wailing sobs. The Mad Old Man curled up on the floor, his shoulders shaking violently as he cried with heart-wrenching anguish.

He looked like a child who had lost his most precious toy, and like someone mourning an irretrievable loss.

The abruptness and extremity of this emotional shift left Long Zhanye, collapsed on the ground, staring in stunned disbelief.

But on second thought, the other man was a madman who had lost his mind. Any behavior from him seemed unsurprising.

Only after the wailing gradually became suppressed sobs did Long Zhanye cautiously ask the question that had long lingered in his heart:

"O-old grandpa, what... what is your name? Why... do you live here all alone?"

At those words, the Mad Old Man's sobbing abruptly stopped.

The secret chamber instantly fell into dead silence, as though even the air had frozen solid.

The next second, the old man crouching on the ground raised his head inch by inch.

His dirty, matted hair slid slightly apart to either side, revealing the eyes behind it.

They were no longer clouded, mad, or wildly shifting between joy and sorrow.

What kind of eyes were those? Within their sunken sockets, they gleamed like sharp, cold blades—clear-headed, icy, and carrying the grim chill of countless years...

That gaze locked firmly onto Long Zhanye!

Long Zhanye's hair stood on end under that stare, boundless cold rushing from the soles of his feet straight to the crown of his head!

"My... name?" The Mad Old Man's voice changed.

He repeated Long Zhanye's question, but his tone became increasingly strange and increasingly urgent. "What's my name? What is my name?!"

He suddenly sprang up and pointed fiercely at Long Zhanye, his expression turning incomparably savage in an instant.

His twisted features were filled with rage suppressed for countless years. "It was you! You forced me into this state! All of you!!!"