When the Cannon Fodder Male Supporting Role Picks Up the Script - Chapter 161

Shengjing was unsealed, and cultivators from various sects poured into the city to provide aid. 

Penglai Immortal, Qin Zheng, and the Tiandao Sect disciples quickly located Yun Zhuoran and Weiran. When they found Shen Lingshu lying lifeless on the ground, Qin Zheng, Lu Qi, and the other Tiandao cultivators stood in silence for a long moment.

Yun Zhuoran still held a fragment of Immortal Bone in his hand. Qin Zheng’s gaze flickered, but he asked nothing, only noting the blood-soaked sword wounds on Yun Zhuoran’s white robe. He motioned for Penglai Immortal to treat him and Weiran immediately.

Yun Zhuoran’s injuries were grave, and they could not leave Shengjing yet. They found a vacant inn in the city where Penglai Immortal tended to Yun Zhuoran’s wounds, while Weiran, Song Shao, and Song Yun remained nearby. None of the Tiandao Sect disciples followed.

Qin Zheng did not accompany them either—perhaps staying behind to aid the surviving cultivators or to arrange Shen Lingshu’s funeral. 

Outside, snow and wind howled through the ruined streets as night fell.

By nightfall, Yun Zhuoran’s eyes opened. He exhaled softly. The internal injuries had subsided, and the external wounds had mostly healed. There was no need for Penglai Immortal to expend further spiritual energy.

When Penglai Immortal helped him up, he hesitated. “You’re seriously injured.”

“That deity appeared,” Yun Zhuoran said evenly, anticipating the question. Shen Lingshu had perished under the residual Taiyin True Fire, but Yun Zhuoran offered no more explanation. “He tried to trap me by possessing Shen Lingshu. Fortunately, Weiran intervened. Shen Lingshu’s body couldn’t withstand it, so the deity abandoned him and fled.”

Penglai Immortal frowned. “Where did he go?”

Yun Zhuoran shook his head. “Where’s Weiran?”

Penglai Immortal glanced into the adjoining room. 

The young man in red was asleep, head resting against the window sill, his posture weary. Yun Zhuoran realized he hadn’t sensed him earlier—he must have fallen asleep keeping watch. 

With a faint sigh, Yun Zhuoran walked over. “This man is dangerous,” he murmured. “He’s appeared twice without leaving a trace. Unless he shows himself again, finding him will be difficult.”

Sitting beside the couch, Yun Zhuoran brushed aside the strands of hair veiling the heart demon’s face. Candlelight flickered dimly against his pallid skin. Frowning slightly, Yun Zhuoran nudged him. “Why do you look so gloomy… don’t sleep yet, Weiran.”

He called several times, but the heart demon didn’t stir. When Yun Zhuoran reached to touch his shoulder, the young man suddenly slumped backward. Fortunately, Yun Zhuoran caught him.

Penglai Immortal noticed and hurried over. Seeing Yun Zhuoran’s expression darken as he checked the pulse, he asked, “He didn’t speak while I healed you. Was he injured fighting Shen Lingshu—or that deity?”

The heart demon made no sound. Yun Zhuoran sensed an unfamiliar energy within him—chaotic and invasive—slowly being consumed by the black mist flowing from his own body. The mist devoured it bit by bit, leaving Weiran weakened but stable. Perhaps this was why he hadn’t woken.

Weiran’s existence was unique—impervious to ordinary medicine or healing. Yun Zhuoran had never seen him truly hurt before.

“He’s exhausted,” Yun Zhuoran said quietly. “Let him rest. You’re tired too. Go sleep for a while.”

“Is he really alright?” Penglai Immortal asked.

Yun Zhuoran nodded. “He’s fine. I can still feel our bond.”

Trusting him, Penglai Immortal withdrew quietly. 

Left alone, Yun Zhuoran sat beside the sleeping heart demon. Though the sight of him brought rare comfort, vigilance still flickered in his eyes.

The heart demon slept until dawn. When he finally stirred, his hazy eyes met Yun Zhuoran’s calm gaze.

“Weiran’s awake.”

Yun Zhuoran was already standing, dressed in clean white, the color returning faintly to his face. 

Seeing himself lying in bed, the heart demon yawned and muttered, “Still sleepy.”

“Then sleep some more,” Yun Zhuoran replied gently. “Do you want something to eat?”

The heart demon shook his head. “Not hungry.”

Yun Zhuoran studied him closely. Though weary, those dark eyes glowed faintly. Taking his hand, Yun Zhuoran asked softly, “Do you feel any discomfort?”

“Stomach,” the heart demon murmured, voice small. “So bloated.”

Without hesitation, Yun Zhuoran placed a hand on his abdomen. The heart demon stiffened, a faint flush creeping up his face. Though simple touch could not dispel the spiritual imbalance from what he had devoured, Yun Zhuoran’s presence alone eased the pain.

“Brother… you’re so kind.”

Yun Zhuoran’s expression softened. “Weiran, since you appeared—since you followed me to search for Yun Peiran—you’ve always been by my side. I’ve grown used to it. But today, you were hurt, and I didn’t notice. Have I always been this careless?”

The heart demon blinked, startled. “Brother, why would you think that? You were hurt. Shen Lingshu died. I felt terrible… but I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Shen Lingshu…” Yun Zhuoran paused briefly before shaking his head. “I used to think we were one—that I understood you best. But when you were injured, I didn’t even feel it. Meanwhile, when I’m hurt, you feel everything, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“But I don’t,” Yun Zhuoran said quietly. “I can’t tell when you’re in pain. I only know you’re still here.”

The heart demon pressed Yun Zhuoran’s palm to his chest. “Because I can’t be hurt. Lu Yu can’t even see my real body. Maybe I’m just your shadow—a mutated being made of black mist. Not human, not spirit. I can devour everything, but I exist only because of you. If you’re gone, then I disappear too.”

Yun Zhuoran’s voice was faint. “So as long as I’m here… you exist?”

The heart demon smiled and drew him closer. “Brother, you’re tired. Rest for a while.”

After a long pause, Yun Zhuoran lay beside him. The heart demon pulled the blanket over both of them. “Brother, don’t think too much. Close your eyes.”

“Alright,” Yun Zhuoran murmured, taking his hand. “But if you’re ever hurt again, tell me immediately.” His gaze softened. “Weiran… I like you.”

The heart demon’s eyes widened. Then, delighted, he wrapped his arms around him. “I like you too.”

“Then promise me,” Yun Zhuoran whispered. “No secrets.”

Weiran’s smile curved faintly. “As long as you never mention Shen Lingshu again, I’ll promise anything.”

Yun Zhuoran chuckled softly, saying nothing more. He had always known his heart demon was not a pure demon—but even if he could not fully understand what Weiran was, he could never let him go.

Outside, heavy snow blanketed Shengjing, its silence deep and cold.

Xu Zhichun had a dream.

He trudged through endless mountains of snow, each step heavy, his body bleeding and torn. The wind roared like a beast, driving him into the drifts again and again. Scarlet trails marked his passage toward a solitary peak. There stood a towering gate, half-buried in frost.

In his memories, he would have knocked and sought shelter within. But this time, he only stared at the plaque above it. The words were blurred—his memory tampered with.

Slowly, the haze lifted. The inscription became clear.

And then, a voice—low, familiar, and chilling—echoed behind him.

“It’s you. You’ve finally returned.”

That voice. Xu Zhichun had heard it countless times in his mind—the deity of Fengtian Temple.

His heart lurched. He awoke abruptly, gasping for air, drenched in sweat. Gone was the snow; only the dim candlelight of his chamber in Wu City greeted him.

It took long minutes before his pulse slowed. 

Beside him, Meng Ye, who had been keeping watch, stirred awake at his sharp breathing.

“Great Wuzhu, what’s wrong? A nightmare?”

Xu Zhichun sat upright, still trembling. He was about to nod—then stopped. “No,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t a dream. He’s found me.”

Meng Ye frowned. “Who?”

Xu Zhichun didn’t answer. His face had gone pale, eyes clouded with dread. From beneath his pillow, he drew out a worn notebook. “This contains everything I’ve studied on the Wu Clan’s curse, and the medicinal formulas I’ve refined over the past two years. Give it to the clan’s witch doctor. If the methods work, the curse can be lifted within twenty years. If not, it will at least ease their suffering—and perhaps, within a century, someone will perfect the cure.” He looked at Meng Ye intently. “Then, Meng Ye, your curse too will be gone.”

Meng Ye’s eyes widened. The book felt unbearably heavy in his hands. “Great Wuzhu, what are you saying? You’re asking us to finish your work—what are you planning to do?”

Xu Zhichun’s tone grew firm. “The Kunwu Sword Sect once clashed with the Wu Clan. But unless the Wu Clan commits unforgivable evil, they will not be annihilated. Even the righteous fear karmic retribution. I’ve asked Sect Master Wen to watch over you.” He pressed the book into Meng Ye’s palms. “I’m ashamed, but I can’t remain here any longer.”

Meng Ye’s voice trembled. “You’re not thinking of ending your life again, are you?”

Xu Zhichun shook his head. “No. But I must find that man. If I don’t, he’ll come again—and next time, no one will survive. I swore to avenge the Wu Clan.” His eyes softened. “Time is short. Meng Ye, protect the clan. If I can, I’ll return.”

Understanding dawned. Xu Zhichun meant the deity of Fengtian Temple—the one that had destroyed Wu City. Xu Zhichun alone had spoken with it and knew where it might hide. The deity would come for him first. The Wu Clan had already suffered enough; only outsiders like Yun Zhuoran or Wen Jianxian could intervene.

Seeing Meng Ye hesitate, Xu Zhichun placed a hand on his arm. “Go. Bring Fellow Daoist Lu Yu and Sect Master Wen. Tell them to search my soul immediately. If you delay, he’ll already be here.”

Meng Ye gripped his hand tightly. “You promised to return. Don’t forget—you still haven’t broken my curse.”

Xu Zhichun smiled faintly. “I remember. And I will.”

The heavy snow in Shengjing lasted three days before it finally ceased. Cultivators from various sects arrived to help clear the city of corpses. 

As expected, none of the exterminated aristocratic families survived. Most of the dead were ordinary mortals unable to cultivate, but a few unaffiliated cultivators managed to live. It soon became clear that the Xingxiu Sect and Zhuyin Sect had deliberately targeted the righteous sects—the slaughter of noble families had only been the beginning.

A few days later, the two demonic sects, long since withdrawn from Shengjing, suddenly struck the Lingshan Sect, the largest and most resource-rich of the righteous medical sects.

The Lingshan Sect’s defenses were formidable, and though the demonic sects failed to seize it, that failure was intentional—a probe. They plundered some of its spiritual resources and left, marking the true beginning of the great war between righteousness and evil.

As the Tiandao Sect’s representative, Qin Zheng had already departed Shengjing to discuss coordinated defenses against the demonic sects with the other righteous factions.

Yun Zhuoran and his companions remained in Shengjing for three days to recuperate. By the third day, Weiran had completely absorbed the Immortal Bone’s residual energy—the same power that had consumed Shen Lingshu’s spiritual sword—and his strength had fully returned. They then set out for the Tiandao Sect.

Because Yun Zhuoran carried Gu Shenshu’s Immortal Bone, Qin Zheng had also returned to the Tiandao Sect earlier that same day. By the time Yun Zhuoran and the others arrived, he was already waiting at the mountain gate.

“I met Sect Master Wen at Lingshan Sect,” Qin Zheng said. “He returned with me and brought two unfamiliar guests.” He knew Yun Zhuoran disliked unnecessary details, so he added only, “They’re waiting for you.”

The heart demon tilted his head curiously. “What guests?”

“Guests from Wu City,” Yun Zhuoran replied.

They already understood who he meant. After thanking Qin Zheng, they followed him into the sect. 

As expected, they found Wen Jianxian, along with Lu Yu and Xu Zhichun—both unfamiliar to Qin Zheng. Outside the hall, Li Jianming was chatting with their host, Jiang Zhibai.

After bringing everyone in, Qin Zheng tactfully excused himself, taking Jiang Zhibai with him.

Wen Jianxian had left Wu City to help suppress the demonic uprising. While the battle between righteousness and evil was the greater concern, the sudden arrival of Lu Yu and Xu Zhichun still came as a surprise.

Penglai Immortal was delighted to see Lu Yu. “Why are you here? Xiao Zhuoran and I were just about to return to Wu City after finishing our business.”

Lu Yu’s expression was grim. “Something happened.”

Yun Zhuoran’s gaze shifted to Wen Jianxian and Xu Zhichun. 

Xu Zhichun’s tone carried quiet guilt. “A few days ago, I felt strong enough to ask Sect Master Wen and Fellow Daoist Lu to perform a soul search on me. I wanted to locate that man’s hiding place. Unexpectedly, he had already tampered with my memory. Sect Master Wen suffered backlash during the process, but Fellow Daoist Lu intervened in time. I didn’t expect he’d use me again—this time, he almost injured Sect Master Wen and implicated Fellow Daoist Lu.”

Lu Yu lifted his sleeve, revealing a faint golden line etched from his wrist to his elbow. “That creature is vicious. My arm’s sealed—I can’t move it yet.”

Yun Zhuoran’s brows furrowed. Penglai Immortal’s face tightened with remorse. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have left. I’ve dragged you into this.”

Lu Yu shook his head. “It’s not your fault. That deity is cunning beyond measure. He foresaw someone would search Xu Zhichun’s soul and laid a trap. Fortunately, I was the one caught. Only my arm’s sealed—it’ll recover in a few days.”

Penglai Immortal exhaled in relief. “Good. I’ll check on you later.”

Lu Yu gave a half-smile. “In truth, staying on Penglai Island for a few days would probably hasten my recovery.”

Yun Zhuoran glanced between them, sensing something amiss. “Thank you for your effort, Senior Lu.” Then, turning to Xu Zhichun—who lowered his head in shame—he added, “It seems you found nothing and instead fell into a trap. That seal won’t break easily.”

After brief conversation, everyone sat down. Yun Zhuoran recounted the events in Shengjing, including Shen Lingshu’s challenge to a life-and-death duel. No one looked surprised—they had likely already heard. 

He summarized only the essentials: the deity of Fengtian Temple had possessed Shen Lingshu using the Immortal Bone’s power and escaped after being defeated.

Lu Yu raised an eyebrow. “So he hurt you there, and now he’s already back here laying traps? Persistent fellow.”

Weiran corrected him coolly, “The seal on Xu Zhichun’s sea of consciousness must have been planted long ago.”

Lu Yu shook his head, gesturing toward Xu Zhichun. “No—it wasn’t a seal. It was him. He said he nearly remembered the hiding place when he heard that voice again.”

Xu Zhichun nodded grimly. “It must be him. He doesn’t want me to expose his location. He’ll come for me again. I feared causing more trouble for Wu City, and since Sect Master Wen was coordinating with the Tiandao Sect about the Demonic Cult, I came along.” He bowed slightly toward Lu Yu. “I didn’t realize my memory had been tampered with. I’m sorry.”

Lu Yu waved off the apology. “Not your fault. Judging from his reaction, that place you half-remembered must be his hiding ground. But you can’t recall it yet.”

Xu Zhichun’s face darkened with guilt. 

Li Jianming placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, offering silent reassurance.

Finding the deity’s hiding place through Xu Zhichun would clearly take time.

Now that Lu Yu and Xu Zhichun had arrived, Yun Zhuoran saw no need to return to Wu City. “Thank you, Sect Master Wen, for your continued assistance,” he said. “The Demonic Cult is spreading chaos—I won’t delay you further. Since Senior Lu and Master Xu are here, please stay for now.”

Wen Jianxian nodded. “You’re too polite, Young Island Master. I’ll be heading down the mountain soon to meet with Master Qin.”

Yun Zhuoran rose. “Before that, I should return the Immortal Bone to Master Qin so he can focus on the Demonic Cult.”

“Immortal Bone?” Xu Zhichun looked up sharply. “The one left by your master? I heard it was taken by Shen Lingshu. Are you going to merge it with your master’s remaining soul? Could Sect Master Gu awaken?”

Li Jianming asked curiously, “Foster Father, have you heard of this before? Is the Immortal Bone really that powerful?”

Xu Zhichun nodded. “I’ve heard that Sect Master Gu reached the peak of the Ascension Stage, halfway to Great Ascension. The power condensed within his Immortal Bone must be tremendous. If it were merged with his soul, it might indeed awaken him.”

Lu Yu’s eyes glimmered. “That’s reasonable. It’s worth trying.”

Yun Zhuoran hadn’t originally considered it. He’d only wanted to return what belonged to Gu Shenshu. After Shen Lingshu’s death, the Tiandao Sect had never pressed him—but clearly, they’d been waiting. 

Xu Zhichun’s suggestion planted a thought: could the Immortal Bone truly revive Gu Shenshu’s consciousness?

Regardless, it had to be returned.

He glanced again at Xu Zhichun, whose calm, scholarly demeanor remained unchanged. After a pause, Yun Zhuoran said, “Master Xu is right. I’ll try it.”

Lu Yu stood. “I’d like to see this myself.”

“Then come,” Yun Zhuoran replied. He turned to Xu Zhichun. “Master Xu, you should join us. This was your idea.”

Xu Zhichun hesitated. “I doubt I can help much, Young Island Master.”

“Even if it doesn’t succeed,” Yun Zhuoran said evenly, “I’ll at least try. You were the one who reminded me.”

Yun Zhuoran’s tone was gentle, but his gaze lingered on Xu Zhichun too long. 

Weiran, displeased, tightened his grip on Yun Zhuoran’s arm and glared openly. 

Li Jianming noticed and quickly stepped forward, subtly placing himself between them. 

Xu Zhichun, oblivious, nodded after a moment’s thought. “Then… I’ll accompany you.”

Yun Zhuoran smiled faintly and took Weiran’s wrist, leading the group toward the temple. 

Wen Jianxian, learning that Qin Zheng was already there, followed.

Qin Zheng, anticipating their arrival, had tidied the temple beforehand. Only the five peak masters remained inside; not even their personal disciples accompanied them. When they saw Yun Zhuoran’s entourage, they instinctively grew cautious.

Yun Zhuoran gestured toward his companions. “These are Senior Lu and Pavilion Master Xu. They both witnessed Sect Master Gu’s remnant spirit in Wu City and assisted in freeing it from the underground palace. Without them, we wouldn’t have found it.”

The five peak masters exchanged uneasy glances. Yun Zhuoran rarely spoke this much—or this warmly. Having long been met with his indifference, his civility now left them unsettled.

Qin Zheng composed himself first, smiling faintly. “We trust anyone brought by the Young Island Master. Sect Master Wen recommended them, so that’s enough for us. Let’s begin.”

Yun Zhuoran, uncharacteristically tense, guided Weiran toward the statue. 

The bronze likeness of Gu Shenshu, life-sized and imposing, stood atop the stone platform. Incense smoke coiled through the air, brushing over the statue’s dignified face, faintly shimmering with immortal light.

Since retrieving the Immortal Bone, Yun Zhuoran had kept it sealed within his sea of consciousness. Now, facing the statue, he released Weiran’s hand and nodded. 

The heart demon stepped back.

Yun Zhuoran closed his eyes. A faint golden light flickered between his brows. Under countless watchful eyes, a two-foot-long fragment of glowing Immortal Bone emerged before him, radiant with spiritual energy. He opened his eyes and willed it toward the statue.

The five peak masters tensed. The bone’s aura filled the temple, deep and solemn. When it neared the statue, the bronze surface suddenly glimmered with divine light, resonating with the fragment.

“It’s responding,” Yun Zhuoran murmured.

The Immortal Bone hovered within arm’s reach. Qin Zheng and the others held their breath. Even Penglai Immortal, normally relaxed, was transfixed.

Then—a streak of spiritual energy lashed out from the side, ensnaring the Immortal Bone.

“Xu Zhichun!” Lu Yu shouted.

Following the surge of wood-elemental energy, everyone turned. 

Xu Zhichun had cast the binding spell. Li Jianming, beside him, went pale. Wen Jianxian instantly pulled him back.

Xu Zhichun ignored them all. His gaze fixed on the floating Immortal Bone, then on Yun Zhuoran. A faint smile curved his lips. “Young Island Master, you invited me here yourself.”

The five peak masters exchanged alarmed looks. Was this betrayal? 

But Yun Zhuoran’s composure reassured them. The Immortal Bone remained suspended in his control.

“You seem eager to steal it,” Yun Zhuoran said coolly, voice steady. “Fine.” He released his spiritual hold. “Then take it.”

The hall fell silent. The peak masters froze in horror. Who would willingly hand over such a sacred artifact? Did Yun Zhuoran forget—it was his master’s bone?

Xu Zhichun’s eyes gleamed. He reached out to seize it—then suddenly flinched. His pupils constricted. He jerked his hand back, retreating several steps.

A burst of Taiyin True Fire erupted from the Immortal Bone, blazing toward him. Even as he leapt away, the icy flames enveloped him.

The fire burned cold and bright. Xu Zhichun’s eyes filled with fury. Forming a hand seal, he summoned a barrier of golden light—shockingly similar to the protective aura once used by Yun Duo—and withstood the flames.

Gasps rippled through the hall. 

Moments later, Xu Zhichun, half-scorched yet still defiant, fled toward the temple gate. There he stopped, his expression calm and mocking.

“You anticipated this,” he said.

Except for the five peak masters, everyone else recognized that golden light—the power of faith from the Fengtian Temple.

Qin Zheng caught something tossed his way. Spiritual energy surged through his fingers. He looked down—stunned—to see the Immortal Bone resting safely in his grasp.

Yun Zhuoran had given it to him deliberately. His tone was indifferent. “Xu Zhichun… or rather, the deity of Fengtian Temple. You’ve been busy.”

Beside him, the heart demon laughed softly. “Even after we gave him the Immortal Bone, he didn’t dare take it. That deity really is a coward.”