Wen Xu, however, instantly noticed the vagueness in Wu Fang's account. He simply opened his eyes and stared at Wu Fang before him. Unable to make out his face, he instead noticed other things. "Are you sure you've broken free of the restraints?"
"Wh... what do you mean? Don't scare me." His courage was very small right now.
Wen Xu reached out and touched Wu Fang's brow. "It seems your bond of servitude to the village is still there."
"How is that possible?!" That was impossible—otherwise, how could he have left the village?!
"It should be very faint. Wu Fang, think about it. You're a cultivator, not a mortal. Even if your spiritual power has been suppressed, your memories wouldn't be muddled to the point that you can't clearly recount how things unfolded. What you said just now was vague and disordered, turning back and forth over itself. It was more like your clarity had been veiled by ignorance." Wen Xu's words were plain and direct, yet they abruptly brought a cold sweat over Wu Fang's back again.
"I..."
Wu Fang rushed to the washbasin and carefully examined his reflection in the water. He truly had not undergone any abnormal changes, but Wen Xu was right. He was a cultivator; he could not possibly be confused to such an extent. His perception was still being muddled. He had not truly escaped the village.
Just then, Wen Xu suddenly spoke. "Actually, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. Buddhism values both withdrawing from the world and entering it. If I do not enter hell, who will? Without weathering wind and frost, one cannot know the bitterness of having weathered wind and frost. You are already within it now. If you can truly break free, it may yet become a trial of tempering."