Chapter Forty-Three: This House Is No Longer Habitable

Is this truly something a lone cultivator who has just reached the middle stage of Qi Refinement could accomplish?

Given the temperament of rogue cultivators, if he had refused, the man might have already begun threatening him. Or perhaps, at the very moment of refusal, the rogue would have left behind a cold remark and turned to leave.

He imagined how a rogue cultivator might have reacted in that situation.

He Song frowned, recalling Chen Zhou’s expression and gestures from that day. He Song’s brows arched with uncertainty.

He genuinely could not tell if Chen Zhou had been acting.

In his previous life, He Song had lived through an age of information explosion. He knew well that there were people who were born actors—those who rarely acted on their real thoughts, but rather put on a performance for the world. In public, they feigned deference, but in private, they were cold and ruthless.

If the Chen Zhou he had encountered was truly such a person, perhaps he was already plotting He Song’s demise.

In other words, He Song was in grave danger now!

What did it matter that he was friends with the manager of the Spiritual Medicine Pavilion? Once dead, he would be nothing but a corpse.

Given Chen Zhou’s background as a rogue cultivator, murder in secret would not be foreign to him. The high mortality rate among rogue cultivators was not only due to the dangers of their trade, but even more so because of the mutual slaughter among their kind.

Killing came with no burden for a rogue cultivator.

What’s more, He Song had already clearly offended Chen Zhou. If it were He Song in his place, he too would strike first upon being so thoroughly provoked.

As these thoughts flashed through his mind, He Song felt the hair on his scalp stand on end and a sudden chill creep down his spine.

The sense of foreboding grew ever stronger, though his expression remained unchanged.

All the same, he immediately ceased his cultivation.

He rose, gripping a Thick Earth Talisman between his fingers to ensure his safety, before opening the door and stepping into the corridor.

He could not stay in this house any longer!

He could try to track Chen Zhou along the route he had left by, but who was to say Chen Zhou was not lurking in the shadows, watching, and would follow him home?

Faced with a rogue cultivator who lived by the blade, a cultivator like He Song from the Immortal Market was hardly a match.

With such thoughts, He Song quickened his pace.

Once outside, amidst the bustling crowds of the street, he finally felt a faint sense of relief. Yet the Thick Earth Talisman remained ready between his fingers, poised to activate at any moment.

He walked through the street without hesitation, heading straight for Wei Fan’s house.

He was no solitary soul.

After so many years of careful cultivation in the Bamboo Mountain Immortal Market, He Song had built up his own network and backing.

Now, in the face of crisis and with no way to resolve it himself, he naturally sought out his support.

He Song was not one to suffer in silence for the sake of pride. If you have backing, you should use it; trying to handle everything alone was too risky—a single misstep and all would be lost.

He was not like others who could simply die and be reborn as a hero in eighteen years. He Song was a seeker of longevity; if he died, he would regret it bitterly.

Thus, in He Song’s creed: avoid making enemies if possible, but if you must, ensure it is a decisive, fatal blow. Avoid taking action yourself if you can; if you must, then utterly destroy your opponent, leaving no chance for them to rise again.

If you can uproot the weed, then do so completely.

In short, leave no hidden threats behind.

His life was precious, after all.

Soon, He Song arrived at Wei Fan’s residence.

Today, Wei Fan was resting, not on duty at the Spiritual Construction Pavilion.

Seeing He Song arrive, Wei Fan was overjoyed. He welcomed He Song into the courtyard himself and led him up to the loft where they used to drink tea together.

Seated face to face, Wei Fan spoke at just the right moment.

“My friend, it’s been ages since you last visited. Living alone in this courtyard is dreadfully dull,” he said, passing a cup of tea to He Song with a shake of his head.

Since He Song had moved out three years ago, Wei Fan had returned to his former tedious life.

He still missed those days, when despite the dangers outside, he had He Song living with him—when they could enjoy leisure and wine together.

Ever since He Song left, he had never recaptured that former feeling.

Naturally, with He Song visiting today, Wei Fan had to lament a little.

“Brother Wei, I have come to beg you to save my life.” Taking the tea from Wei Fan, He Song’s eyes flashed with helplessness.

For three years, at every monthly gathering, Wei Fan would invite him to move back in, but He Song had never agreed.

Now, forced to return, he hadn’t expected Wei Fan to say the same thing yet again.

He almost felt embarrassed to refuse.

But today, he had come with urgent business. He decided it was best to explain everything to Wei Fan first and see what solutions he might have before making further plans.

“Oh? Save your life? You’ve always been cautious and never made enemies—could it be that someone is trying to bully you?” Wei Fan exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with spiritual energy as he examined He Song for any missing arms or legs.

Finding none, he looked at He Song in confusion.

At the same time, a trace of anger kindled in Wei Fan’s heart.

He Song was his good friend, and by nature, He Song was always careful, never provoking others.

If someone in the Immortal Market dared bully He Song, how could Wei Fan, now a late-stage Qi Refinement cultivator, keep his dignity?

A surge of hot-bloodedness rushed through him.

Could it be that, since his breakthrough to the late stage, this was finally the moment for him to make his move?

Stirred by such thoughts, the spiritual pressure unique to late-stage Qi Refinement cultivators rippled faintly from him—a response to the agitation of his emotions and spiritual energy.

This pressure was nothing unbearable for He Song, who was at the middle stage of Qi Refinement; on the contrary, it was like a gentle breeze, and it warmed his heart.

“Not exactly—truth be told, I share some blame in this matter. But now that it’s done, I have no choice but to ask for your help.” After careful consideration, He Song told Wei Fan everything that had happened: his breakthrough to the middle stage of Qi Refinement, his visit to the Spiritual Medicine Pavilion to find Zhao Lin, Zhao Lin’s casual assignment of two acres of spiritual fields, the encounter with Chen Zhou who wanted to buy the fields for ten spirit stones, and his request to Zhao Lin to investigate Chen Zhou’s background, with Zhao Lin’s findings written on a paper crane.

Finally, out of concern over Chen Zhou’s status as a rogue cultivator, He Song had come seeking Wei Fan’s help.

After recounting the whole story, He Song took a sip of tea to moisten his throat.