Devil Venerable Also Wants to Know

Inconstant Hearts

Yin Hanjiang had been buried in the snow for over three months, but not managed to regain much spiritual essence. He had drained it using the Burning Sky Drum to fend off the heavenly tribulation. If he didn't care about the mortals living near the Ice Plains and absorbed all the spiritual energy around, he could recover most of the way, but he refused to.

He flew slowly, reaching the Blood Hell after half a month.

He had found out several weeks ago during the battle here that he could absorb the primordial chaos energy. This was the best place for him to recover his strength.

Slowly, he climbed to the edge of the cliff and looked down. The expanse of crimson made him dizzy, and he sat weakly atop the cliff. In his eyes, there were countless Wenren È's, jumping downward, beckoning warmly for Yin Hanjiang to follow them.

"Without Sect Leader Yin, this Venerable is quite lonely," one said, sitting by his side. "Didn't you swear to follow this Venerable throughout every life?"

Yin Hanjiang gazed at Wenren È's attentive expression and shook his head. "Venerable, I want to follow you, but I can't. You forbade me."

"This Venerable is allowing you now," Wenren È said.

"This subordinate has unfinished business," Yin Hanjiang said quietly.

He took out the ghost mask, now riddled with cracks. Gazing down at it, he seemed to be looking at his old self.

The Wenren È at his side looked on with him.

"Venerable, do you still remember this mask?" Yin Hanjiang asked.

Naturally, he didn't answer. He was only a creation of Yin Hanjiang's imagination.

"You thought this subordinate was loyal, right? I may not have been a gentleman like Zhongli Qian, but at least I was open and honest, right?" Yin Hanjiang ran a hand over the cracks in the mask, his voice restrained. "But it wasn't true."

His family had been slaughtered at five. He had lain in a corpse pile for days; he had been picked up by Wenren È then abandoned for a decade. How could he be open and honest? How could he not hold resentment?

Before he turned eighteen, Yin Hanjiang had lived a harsh life. He knew he'd been saved by a powerful person, whom he had very little contact with. That person wanted him to become a sword cultivator, and he understood that he had to win that person's favor if he wanted to survive, so he dedicated himself to practicing the sword.

But Yin Hanjiang had never said that he liked the sword.

Before he turned eighteen, he wanted to survive and become stronger, so he did all he could to win that man's favor. When he turned eighteen, he returned to his village, saw the man who had saved him, and found out his name was Wenren È.

While he watched quietly at the sidelines as Wenren È led his troops to protect the village, longing, admiration, and worship filled his heart. Yin Hanjiang wished to be someone like Wenren È, but he could not. After eighteen years, his temperament was already formed. He would always be a dark and twisted person.

Wenren È didn't know that the enemy troops who had fled his battles had all been hunted down by Yin Hanjiang, one by one, and stabbed to death with triangular blades.

He had already found the corpse pile where his family members were now all bones, impossible to recognize. He had buried them and put up steles, then dragged the enemy tribesmen's corpses before the graves, setting them alight one by one, illuminating the graveyard.

Yin Hanjiang's face was shadowy in the firelight. The warmth of the flames didn't reach him.

After Wenren È successfully drove out the enemy tribe, he drank with his surviving soldiers. Yin Hanjiang hid in a corner, watching him.