When the Cannon Fodder Male Supporting Role Picks Up the Script - Chapter 159

Upon learning that Shen Lingshu had infiltrated the Tiandao Sect, Yun Zhuoran immediately informed Qin Zheng and the other peak masters.

Qin Zheng’s face darkened; he quickly ordered disciples to search every corner of the mountain.

Yun Zhuoran and the heart demon returned to the sealed temple, guarding Gu Shenshu’s statue. The deity who once claimed this body could not be allowed to appear—not while Gu Shenshu’s soul still lingered.

But as night fell, the mountain remained undisturbed.

Since mastering his immortal bones, Shen Lingshu had become nearly impossible to track. Even at a lower cultivation level, he had approached Great Ascension cultivators like Yun Zhuoran and Lu Yu several times without being detected. 

The heart demon’s keen senses had exposed him last time, but this time not even he could sense Shen Lingshu’s presence. 

Only after Yun Zhuoran ordered a full sweep did the heart demon catch a faint residual aura near the temple grounds—a trace already fading.

The sect was on high alert. Patrol disciples reported nothing amiss on the peaks, though some disturbance had been found at the gate. Perhaps Shen Lingshu had exploited a gap in the mountain’s protective barrier. 

Qin Zheng urged them politely to rest, his tone calm but her expression grim.

Yun Zhuoran merely nodded.

The Tiandao Sect’s search was too conspicuous; Shen Lingshu would have noticed and fled long before. Even with the immortal bone’s power, he would not risk facing the sect directly.

Arrogance defined Shen Lingshu. Once praised as Gu Shenshu’s most brilliant disciple, he now carried only disgrace. How could he bear to face the same disciples who once revered him?

Penglai Immortal, Song Shao, and Song Yun stood nearby, ready to assist. The heart demon, however, remained seated before the golden statue of Gu Shenshu. His youthful face mirrored Yun Zhuoran’s, though his eyes were empty, unfocused.

Yun Zhuoran sighed quietly, helped him to his feet, and turned to leave. “Let’s go.”

Just then, several disciples rushed into the hall.

“Peak Master! Junior Brother Gu has been taken!”

Qin Zheng’s expression changed instantly. “What? Taken?”

The other peak masters rose, faces tense. 

Yun Zhuoran and the heart demon exchanged a sharp glance. The missing disciple could only be Gu Qiuming—Gu Shenshu’s nephew.

The reporting disciple, trembling beneath Yun Zhuoran’s gaze, stammered out his account. “It was Shen Lingshu. He appeared out of nowhere, injured Senior Brother Ji, and took Junior Brother Gu hostage. They’ve already left the sect.”

Gu Qiuming had become the sect’s prized disciple, mentored by several peak masters and often accompanied by Qin Zheng himself. Yet his cultivation lagged behind his status. 

Shen Lingshu had exploited that weakness perfectly.

Qin Zheng forced his voice steady. 

Yun Zhuoran said calmly, “I’ll find him.”

The peak masters looked up in surprise. The sect would normally send pursuit teams—but Yun Zhuoran’s quiet determination left no room for debate.

“Xian’er,” he told Penglai Immortal, “stay here. Guard the temple and the Sect Master’s soul.”

Penglai Immortal nodded.

Qin Zheng frowned suddenly. “Could this be a trap—to lure you away from the mountain?”

“Who knows,” Yun Zhuoran replied indifferently. He gestured for the heart demon to follow. A rare edge of irritation laced his tone.

Qin Zheng fell silent. He realized this might indeed be Shen Lingshu’s ploy—but even if it was, Yun Zhuoran would not stand aside.

The Tiandao Sect’s current strength could not rival its former glory. Even united, its peak masters could never match Gu Shenshu’s era. For two decades they had survived by discipline and cooperation—but now, their faith rested on the Young Island Master of Penglai.

They did not know that Yun Zhuoran’s cultivation had advanced even further since reclaiming the Taiyin True 

Fire. He pursued Shen Lingshu himself not merely because of the danger—but because the abducted disciple was Gu Shenshu’s only blood kin.

The heart demon’s eyes brightened. “Brother, why take only Gu Qiuming? Ji Ruo and Yun Shaowei were closer to him before—did he choose Gu Qiuming out of jealousy?”

Yun Zhuoran’s gaze flicked toward him. “He probably couldn’t bear to face the others.”

The heart demon smirked. “Gu Qiuming looks more like Gu Shenshu by the day. Perhaps that resemblance unsettles him. Even if he once called himself family, seeing that face must cut deep.”

Yun Zhuoran said nothing.

By the time they descended the mountain, the pursuit team had lost Shen Lingshu’s trail near the town at its base. 

Among the gathered disciples, Jiang Zhibai appeared, supporting the injured Ji Chen, once of Qingyang Peak. Ji Chen’s face was pale, his breathing shallow.

“Shen Lingshu ambushed us,” Jiang Zhibai explained grimly. “We tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t listen. He took Gu Qiuming and vanished before we could block him.”

After hearing the details, Yun Zhuoran and the heart demon separated from the others to continue the search alone.

The town below was crowded with cultivators celebrating the Lantern Festival. Even the heart demon’s senses were muddled by the noise. 

They followed the route Jiang Zhibai described, tracing Shen Lingshu’s fading aura through the streets. Twice they found remnants of his energy, but both trails ended abruptly.

The heart demon sniffed the air, frowning. “Strange. The scent’s completely gone.”

“He noticed we were tracking him,” Yun Zhuoran said. “He erased every trace on purpose.” He led the heart demon toward a quieter lane. “But why take Gu Qiuming specifically?”

“Leverage?” the heart demon guessed. “Maybe he wants to trade him for Gu Shenshu’s soul.”

“No.” Yun Zhuoran’s tone was calm, almost certain.

“Then… a trap?”

Yun Zhuoran’s gaze swept the lantern-lit street, and understanding flickered in his eyes. “When I first entered the Tiandao Sect, Master brought Shen Lingshu and me here for the Lantern Festival. There’s a small teahouse nearby—quiet, tucked beside the lake. Master liked their pastries.”

The heart demon grinned. “Then that’s where he’ll be.”

Yun Zhuoran’s eyes darkened. “Let’s go.”

Under the night sky, lanterns drifted across the lake, floating slowly into the distance.

White-robed Tiandao Sect disciples hurried through the noisy streets. 

In a corner, a second-floor window facing the street was tightly shut by a hand.

Shen Lingshu turned back. Gu Qiuming sat stiffly at the tea table. His dark eyes—somewhat similar to Yun Zhuoran’s—stared straight at Shen Lingshu with urgency, as though he wanted desperately to say something. 

Shen Lingshu sat down opposite him and waved his hand. Golden light flashed. Gu Qiuming still couldn’t move, but he could now speak. 

He coughed lightly, his delicate face taut with tension.

“I only wanted to see Master once,” Shen Lingshu said. “If you hadn’t found me first, I wouldn’t have acted.” As he looked longer at that face—growing more and more like Gu Shenshu’s—and at those clear eyes resembling Yun Zhuoran’s, his expression grew increasingly complicated. He finally turned his face aside. “Don’t worry. He’s come down the mountain. He’ll find this place soon.”

Shen Lingshu stood up with his sword in hand. “I’m leaving.”

“Senior Brother Shen!” Gu Qiuming didn’t know who the ‘he’ Shen Lingshu referred to, but there was no hostility in his gaze.

“Don’t call me that.” Shen Lingshu’s tone was flat, but the hatred beneath it was clear.

“You saved me once,” Gu Qiuming said quietly. “Back then, I almost became your disciple. I remember your kindness.”

Shen Lingshu’s hand tightened around his sword hilt. “You owe me nothing. You’re a favored heir of the Tiandao Sect now—taught by five peak masters. Calling me senior brother insults us both. I regret saving you.”

Gu Qiuming met his gaze without flinching. “Even so, I’ll repay your kindness—so long as it doesn’t harm others. I hope you’ve come back to face the past, not run from it.”

A bitter laugh escaped Shen Lingshu. “Return to the sect? To what—chains and punishment? They’d take my immortal bone and leave me crippled. You think I don’t know how they treat their sinners?”

“They’ve changed,” Gu Qiuming said firmly. “After my uncle’s death, they learned from their mistakes. Peak Master Qin no longer judges by rumor. If you returned now, they would not repeat the same cruelty.”

Shen Lingshu’s lips twisted. “You speak like a child raised in comfort. Ask Yun Zhuoran whether he trusts them.”

“Senior Brother Yun endured what you never did,” Gu Qiuming replied. “He was blamed for crimes he didn’t commit—and he still never betrayed the righteous path. You were the one our Master cherished most. Tell me, have the peak masters ever treated you unjustly?”

Shen Lingshu fell silent, then said coldly, “Only because they haven’t caught me. Once they do, I’ll suffer worse than Yun Zhuoran—because my father, Shen Fu, killed our Master.”

Gu Qiuming shook his head. “That’s not true. They won’t repeat that mistake. You are still Master’s disciple.”

The spirit sword rose, its edge gleaming at Gu Qiuming’s throat.

“This is not your concern.”

Gu Qiuming’s voice remained calm. “I only hope you don’t lose your way. You can still turn back. The sect is not hunting you. You’re Gu Shenshu’s disciple—you belong to the righteous path.”

“The righteous path?” Shen Lingshu’s laugh was low, almost a snarl. “Gu Shenshu’s disciples lost that path long ago.”

Gu Qiuming’s expression softened. “You’re wrong, Senior Brother Shen. It’s not too late.”

Shen Lingshu looked at him a long time, then turned away. He opened the window, letting the cold night wind in. Lantern light from the lake flickered across his face—half shadow, half gold.

He was gone before Gu Qiuming could speak again.

When Yun Zhuoran entered the teahouse moments later, only Gu Qiuming remained. A faint red thread of spiritual energy shimmered from his wrist toward the open window, then snapped and vanished.

So these fate threads could break?

Yun Zhuoran looked down at his own hand. Two thin threads still glowed faintly there.

The heart demon approached and tapped Gu Qiuming’s forehead, dissolving Shen Lingshu’s restraint. 

Gu Qiuming exhaled, eyes clearing.

“Where did Shen Lingshu go?” the heart demon asked.

Gu Qiuming shook his head. “I don’t know. Before leaving, he told me to tell the peak masters—he will never return to the Tiandao Sect.”

The heart demon gave a short, mirthless laugh. “So he’s cut ties completely.”

“Let’s find Senior Brother Jiang. He’s downstairs.”

Gu Qiuming hesitated. “Senior Brother Yun… won’t you come with me?”

Yun Zhuoran glanced out the window, the faint confusion in his eyes quickly fading into calm. “Let’s go.”

Gu Qiuming thought Yun Zhuoran intended to stay behind to look for Shen Lingshu, but instead Yun Zhuoran went downstairs. The Little Island Master frowned unhappily and followed. Gu Qiuming could only trail behind, bewildered.

They met Jiang Zhibai and several Tiandao Sect disciples at the teahouse entrance. Together, Yun Zhuoran and Weiran escorted the group back up the mountain.

From the bridge ahead, Shen Lingshu watched their retreating figures.

“You missed a perfect opportunity.”

Hearing that voice, Shen Lingshu didn’t look around this time. “I only came back to see Master.”

“But you haven’t seen him yet.” 

“I have.”

After a long pause, the voice sounded again, seemingly puzzled. Shen Lingshu had never entered the divine hall, yet claimed he had seen it—so who, exactly, had he seen?

For a long moment, only the winter wind answered them.

“Very well. Then come see me.”

“Alright.”

Shen Lingshu did not refuse again.

While the search party combed the mountainside, Penglai Immortal had sent no word. Worried, Yun Zhuoran returned to the temple through the snow. The great hall lay silent. Qin Zheng and Penglai Immortal emerged to meet him.

“Gu Qiuming…” Qin Zheng asked cautiously.

“Found him.”

Qin Zheng finally let out a long breath.

Yun Zhuoran’s gaze flicked toward the golden statue, then to Penglai Immortal, who shook his head. No danger tonight.

Still, Yun Zhuoran frowned. If Shen Lingshu’s abduction wasn’t a diversion… then what was it?

After bidding farewell to Qin Zheng, Yun Zhuoran and his companions returned to Baiyun Jian.

At their level of cultivation, they no longer needed sleep, but the heart demon’s mortal habits had long since influenced them all.

Baiyun Jian held several guest chambers. Yun Zhuoran shared one with Weiran. 

The heart demon, now in his adult form, sprawled across most of the bed, his expression sulky.

Yun Zhuoran noticed immediately. He hadn’t asked for a kiss tonight.

Sitting by the bed, Yun Zhuoran asked, “Why so quiet?”

“I’m tired,” Weiran muttered.

Yun Zhuoran pointed at the book in his hand. “No wonder. It’s upside down.”

Weiran froze, then turned away, ears reddening. He tossed the book aside and pulled the quilt over himself. “Then I’ll sleep.”

He was clearly sulking.

Unable to understand the cause, Yun Zhuoran simply mirrored him—lying on his side, head resting on his arm, watching him silently. His long white hair spread across the aqua quilt, his dark eyes calm, his pale skin luminous in the lamplight.

Under that gaze, Weiran’s composure faltered. His cheeks warmed. Finally, he reached out, grabbed a strand of Yun Zhuoran’s hair, and muttered, “My brother grew up with a man named Shen. You even went to the Lantern Festival together and had a secret base. I had none of that.”

Yun Zhuoran whispered,“There was also Gu Shenshu.”

Weiran leaned closer, his red-tinged eyes locking onto Yun Zhuoran’s. “When Shen Lingshu was in Yun City, he tried to kill you. Will you kill him one day?”

Yun Zhuoran chuckled softly. “Are you thinking about those strange stories in the storybook again? Yun Peiran wrote that nonsense. I won’t form a Dao partnership with him. He tried to kill me first; of course I would strike back. Weiran, the past is just the past.”

Weiran’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“There might be some feelings,” Yun Zhuoran said, voice low. He brushed the dark hair from his neck, twirling a strand between his fingers. “But there won’t be anyone else. The only one beside me will always be you.”

Weiran’s breath caught. His pupils trembled as Yun Zhuoran smiled faintly, amused by his stillness. He reached out and poked Weiran’s flushed cheek, intending to pull back—only for Weiran to seize his wrist.

Blushing furiously, he half-rose, pressing lightly down. “Brother… don’t look at me like that.”

Yun Zhuoran smiled. “Why not?”

The heart demon’s voice was barely audible. “Because I love it.”

Yun Zhuoran’s chest rose with laughter he didn’t voice.

 The heart demon, mortified by his own words, bit his lip and leaned down, capturing Yun Zhuoran’s lips in a hesitant kiss.

They remained in the Tiandao Sect for several more days.

Once the temple reopened to the disciples, Shen Lingshu did not appear again. Gu Shenshu’s remnant soul slowly stabilized, nourished by the lingering threads of faith.

Even after several days, there was no sign of the deity. 

Yun Zhuoran concluded that the Fengtian deity had abandoned Gu Shenshu’s soul once it was drained of value.

After discussing with Penglai Immortal, they decided to return to Wu City.

But just as they were preparing to depart, Qin Zheng, who had been guarding the temple, arrived—his composure gone.

Almost every disciple in the Tiandao Sect now treated Yun Zhuoran with cautious respect. Some sought to atone for the past; others remained wary of his new status. Qin Zheng belonged to the former.

Within the temple, the Tiandao Sect had maintained a grand protective formation—five Peak Masters standing guard day and night. For Qin Zheng to leave it now meant something serious had occurred.

Song Shao and his men met him outside.

Skipping the usual formalities, Qin Zheng asked urgently, “Young Island Master, are you aware? Shen Lingshu has appeared again!”

The heart demon crossed his arms, smirking. “He’s back again.”

Yun Zhuoran’s brows furrowed slightly. Shen Lingshu’s reappearance alone wouldn’t have rattled Qin Zheng. “Did he enter the temple?”

“That’s not it,” Qin Zheng replied, her tone grave. “Three nights ago, the Tiandao Sect and Zhuyin Sect joined forces to attack Shengjing, slaughtering the city’s cultivator clans. Before reinforcements could arrive, both sects were repelled—by a single person.”

Everyone froze.

“Reports from the Tianqing Sect say that person was Shen Lingshu,” Qin Zheng continued. “They claim he’s transcended his inner tribulation and directly entered the Great Ascension Realm. After defeating the Xingxiu and Zhuyin Sect, he blocked all righteous sects from entering Shengjing—and issued an invitation.”

His gaze locked on Yun Zhuoran. “He wants you there.”

The hall fell into silence.

Breaking through the inner tribulation meant Shen Lingshu had fully awakened the power within Gu Shenshu’s immortal bone.

Yun Zhuoran’s voice was calm. “Invititation for what?”

Qin Zheng straightened, his expression solemn. “He’s declared a challenge. A life-and-death duel.”