Chapter 55: What Is Despair
Roar—
At this moment, no one had any mind to continue forward.
The demonic beasts within the surrounding mountains went mad once more; countless gigantic silhouettes charged toward them with earth-shaking force.
Wu Ruyue, Zhou Yang, Gu Ruoxi, and the others, upon seeing several powerful beasts attacking from the front, had no choice but to scatter and flee.
None of them dared to overestimate themselves by attempting to block the assault.
……
“The beasts have gone mad again…”
“Tsk, I wonder how the Heir is doing now. Could he have already been torn apart by those beasts?”
“That might actually be a good thing. At least it’d be painless—and we can return to report without burden.”
Several enshrined retainers of the Demon Suppression Prince’s Mansion, who had rested for the night at the outer base of Hidden Moon Mountain, were squinting their eyes at the campfire, sensing the situation deep within the mountains.
They had no intention of going any further.
Not to mention the danger of the maddened beasts—even if they found Shen Yanzhou, what of it? They would still have to kill him themselves.
“Elder Mo is missing.”
“That old fool really doesn’t know his place. He must have gone into the mountains alone last night while we slept.”
“Heh, guess he got too sentimental after following that wastrel all these years, eating well and living comfortably.”
“But what a fool—sentiment’s worthless.
Even if he finds that wastrel, can he possibly save him?”
The few enshrined men looked at where Elder Mo had vanished, faintly annoyed that the old man refused to listen to reason.
“Should’ve been more thorough last night. If he runs his mouth, it might affect the Prince’s plans.” Someone muttered coldly, his eyes glinting.
“A mistake,” another said flatly.
“It’s not the rescue that worries me. It’s what happens if he reaches the Chilin Guards or the Bureau of Immortal Inspection and starts talking about things he shouldn’t.”
Daoist Qingfeng stood beside the fire, stroking his beard, his brows slightly furrowed in silent regret.
Had he known Elder Mo intended to save Shen Yanzhou, he would’ve killed him yesterday instead of wasting words.
“Heh, easy fix—just chase him down.”
“It rained last night, and the footprints are still fresh. The old fool couldn’t have gone far.”
Two enshrined men sneered, though their eyes gleamed with chilling intent.
Daoist Qingfeng nodded.
For the sake of the bigger picture, that foolish old man would have to die.
Soon, the two men packed up their weapons and followed the trail of footprints into the mountains.
The rest remained where they were, still resting by the fire, not planning to move.
Suddenly, a faint breeze brushed past.
The campfire flickered violently, flames wavering as if about to be snuffed out.
The other retainers of the Demon Suppression Prince’s Mansion froze in confusion.
The first to react was Daoist Qingfeng—his expression shifted sharply as he turned to look behind them.
“Who’s there?”
Having cultivated the Daoist arts, he was now at the Sixth-Grade Core Formation Realm.
A golden core rested within his body, his spiritual power vast and enduring, able to perform many Taoist divine techniques.
His senses were exceptionally keen.
Yet at this moment, his voice was no longer calm, but sharp and severe.
The others also readied their weapons.
Before them, a swirling black whirlwind had appeared without warning, sweeping up dry leaves and exuding a suffocating chill.
“Why so tense, honored enshrined ones?”
Just as they were bracing themselves, a familiar voice, light and tinged with amusement, came from within the dark wind.
The next instant, the black whirlwind collapsed.
From its midst stepped a tall, handsome young man, his smile graceful and composed as his eyes swept across them.
At his side stood an old man dressed in black, his expression cold and his narrow eyes gleaming.
Simply by standing there, he caused the air to grow colder.
“The Heir?”
“You’re… alive?”
All of them were stunned at Shen Yanzhou’s sudden appearance.
None had imagined he would return like this.
Daoist Qingfeng remained silent, his expression grim and wary—not at Shen Yanzhou, but at the black-clad elder beside him.
That man radiated a danger beyond measure—like an ancient beast awakened from the abyss.
“What’s this? Is it so strange that I’m alive?” Shen Yanzhou asked lightly.
“It’s good that the Heir yet lives. We were sent by the Prince’s elders to rescue you and bring you home.”
“When we heard the Heir had been abducted by villains, we were filled with anxiety and regret—wishing only to rush to your side to ensure your safety.”
“Now that we see you unharmed, our hearts can finally be at ease.” Several of them spoke at once, their faces full of what looked like genuine concern.
“Is that so?”
“But to me, none of you seem intent on rescuing anyone.”
“Tell me—was it Shen Zhigao who instructed you to ‘take care of me’ here? Or perhaps… my dear father?” Shen Yanzhou said with a faint smile.
At those words, the enshrined men’s faces changed slightly.
Some exchanged wary glances—clearly, Shen Yanzhou already knew more than they expected.
Daoist Qingfeng, keeping a cautious eye on the Soul-devouring Flood Serpent, said calmly, “The Heir misunderstands. His Highness is far away in the southern frontier, guarding the Monster Pass. Though he worries deeply for you, duty binds him—he carries the burden of both family and nation. Unable to leave his post, he commanded us to do our utmost to rescue you—”
“How hypocritical.”
Shen Yanzhou shook his head faintly.
A moment later, he extended two fingers in a sword gesture and pointed forward.
There was a soft puff—blood blossomed in midair.
Daoist Qingfeng’s eyes widened in disbelief.
A hole pierced straight through his forehead.
He hadn’t even had time to react before his vision darkened.
His soul did not vanish immediately; a golden bell rose to protect it, turning into a streak of golden light trying to flee.
But Shen Yanzhou made no move—only a faint glance, his will stirring, his sword moving with his thought.
That single thread of his heart’s sword carried the Breath of Primordial Chaos—like the Primordial Heaven Sword cleaving through the skies.
Even across distance, it released an annihilating power that crushed all before it.
With a soft puff, a bloom of golden radiance burst forth like fireworks.
The golden bell shattered, and along with it, Daoist Qingfeng’s soul was utterly obliterated.
From beginning to end, Daoist Qingfeng never even realized what had happened.
The last light in his soul’s eyes was frozen in boundless terror and despair.
For a moment, silence engulfed the surroundings.
The enshrined retainers of the Demon Suppression Prince’s Mansion stared in terror at the scene before them, trembling uncontrollably.
None of them had imagined that the most powerful among them, Daoist Qingfeng, would die so inexplicably.
Nor could they believe that Shen Yanzhou—who had never cultivated before—could possess such terrifying power.
“Demonic arts…”
“This wastrel has colluded with a demon and betrayed the Prince’s Mansion!”
Their fear deepened, mingling with fury.
Someone tried to resist, but before he could even reach Shen Yanzhou, two streaks of sword light pierced through his legs, sending blood splattering as he collapsed to the ground.
Shen Yanzhou was rather satisfied with the power of the Heart Sword—killing without form, striking before the enemy could react, slaughtering a Sixth-Grade expert as easily as slaughtering a chicken.
If imbued with the Breath of Primordial Chaos, it carried a destructive aura that could annihilate everything.
Under that breath, both inner strength and spiritual energy were crushed in an instant.
“Then I’ll fight you to the death!”
A gust of violent wind roared—one of the retainers, a burly man clad in thick armor, swung his massive copper hammer as he charged forward.
The blow rumbled like thunder, stirring ripples through the air itself.
Protective true energy flared across his body; learning from his fallen comrade’s mistake, he shielded himself completely.
Another retainer roared, activating a secret technique.
His eyes bulged with fury, his skin turning the color of ancient bronze as a wrathful Vajra phantom manifested behind him.
Amid the morning mist, Shen Yanzhou stood calmly beside the flickering fire.
Facing their simultaneous attacks, he made no evasive movement.
He simply raised his palm and met their strikes head-on—intending to test the sheer physical power of his body.
Puff—
As expected, the moment their blows met, Shen Yanzhou felt as though he had struck a mass of cotton—there was no resistance, no sense of impact, no feeling of how much strength he had used.
But the retainer who used the Wrathful Vajra technique felt as though he had slammed into a towering mountain.
The terrifying force numbed his arm instantly.
Agonizing pain followed—so intense that his vision darkened, nearly knocking him unconscious.
His entire arm exploded, as if a violent spiral of internal power had surged through his meridians and bones, crushing everything in its path.
“Ah—!”
He wanted to scream, but Shen Yanzhou’s descending palm, wrapped in the Breath of Primordial Chaos, crashed down like the heavens themselves.
With a thunderous boom, the ground beneath him burst apart.
Blood mist scattered in all directions—no trace of bone remained, only fragments of flesh and dust.
Though it seemed slow to describe, it had all happened in a single motion.
The retainer wielding the hammer reacted too late.
Shen Yanzhou sidestepped, then drove his other fist forward—no technique, no flourish, just raw, unrestrained power.
In that instant, the nearby mountains trembled.
A deafening sonic boom shattered the air.
With a resounding crack, the heavy hammer forged of black-gold secret iron shattered.
The resulting shockwave nearly broke the retainer’s arm.
Wracked with pain, he dropped his weapon, but his body was flung backward like a torn sandbag, crashing into an ancient tree.
Blood gushed from his mouth, mixed with fragments of his organs.
He drew in more air than he exhaled—clearly beyond saving.
The last remaining retainer turned pale, trembling violently.
He could hardly believe his eyes.
Was this really the infamous wastrel of the imperial capital?
The strength he possessed now—one could easily mistake him for a transformed Demon King!
“Spare me, Heir…!”
“It was the Mansion’s elders who ordered us to do it!”
With a thud, the man collapsed to his knees, his legs shaking as he looked up at the elegant, unearthly figure of Shen Yanzhou—as if gazing upon a terrifying demon.
“I know.”
Shen Yanzhou smiled faintly and stepped toward him.
“Spare me, Heir, please…”
Despair filled the man’s eyes.
Seeing that Shen Yanzhou had no intention of letting him go, he gritted his teeth and drew the blade from his back.
But before the cold blade light could even fall, Shen Yanzhou caught it in one hand.
With a light squeeze, a sharp crack echoed—the finely forged steel blade shattered into countless fragments.
“So this is the caliber of the Prince’s handpicked Sixth-Grade retainers. Truly disappointing.”
With a casual palm strike, Shen Yanzhou ended his life, then lightly shook his head.
At least now he understood the full measure of his own strength.
Though his status panel still showed his realm as Seventh-Rank, Mid-stage, ordinary Sixth-Rank cultivators could no longer harm him in the slightest.
“These few have nothing useful on them, it seems…”
He saw no Sumeru Rings or Sumeru Bags on their bodies.
After a cursory search, he found only a Transmission Jade Talisman—likely used to contact the elders back at the mansion.
Such talismans were instantaneous, like letters that burned after reading, leaving no trace behind.
He glanced at it once, then crushed it effortlessly.
“Let the beasts feed later—just don’t let them strip the bodies completely. Leave them in roughly human shape, so they can still be identified.” Shen Yanzhou said to the Soul-devouring Flood Serpent.
“Yes, young master,” replied the creature with a nod.
……
Deep within Hidden Moon Mountain, an old man with sharp cheekbones and dressed in dark robes crouched behind a massive green boulder, drenched in sweat as he hid from several maddened beasts nearby.
His face had turned pale.
“Sigh, why have the beasts suddenly gone mad again…”
“I fear the young master’s situation is dire.
My strength is too weak to save him, but I hope at least to find his remains—or his robe—so that he may rest in peace.”
He sighed inwardly.
Last night, while the other retainers rested, he had quietly slipped away to enter the mountain.
But he lost his way in the thick fog and could not find a path upward.
When dawn came, the beasts went mad, and Hidden Moon Mountain trembled violently.
He had no choice but to take shelter.
“If Heaven spares the young master and he somehow survives, I pray he never returns to the capital.”
“The true heir will never let him live.”
“Had we known that Shen Tian was the true heir, the young master should never have humiliated him at the gates of the Wu Residence that day. The grudge born from that cannot be mended now.”
Though he muttered to himself, his eyes betrayed the deep worry he felt for Shen Yanzhou.
He had served by Shen Yanzhou’s side since the boy’s youth.
He had personally watched that once-bright and obedient child be twisted—bit by bit—into the arrogant, unruly wastrel he had become.
In the end, all of this was the “arrangement” of the Demon Suppression Prince’s Mansion.
Everyone had wanted Shen Yanzhou to grow into this very image.
A young sapling once full of life had been forcibly twisted, pruned, and broken—until it grew into something gnarled and unloved.
And in the end, they acted as though nothing had happened, blaming him for not living up to their expectations.