When the Cannon Fodder Male Supporting Role Picks Up the Script - Chapter 162

This deity, worshipped for many years by the Fengtian Temple, had possessed others before Yun Zhuoran more than once. Even after being exposed, he remained calmly smiling, his demeanor completely different from Xu Zhichun’s. 

Xu Zhichun was like a clear pool of water, while this man’s eyes were unfathomably deep. Once he dropped his disguise, the difference was immediately apparent.

Li Jianming pushed past Wen Jianxian’s hand and rushed forward, staring at the figure by the door. “Where’s my godfather?”

The so-called god, possessing Xu Zhichun’s body, smiled faintly. “He’s my friend. I won’t harm him.”

Yun Zhuoran stopped Li Jianming, his tone cold as he faced the imposter. “If I befriend you, I’ll only become another pawn—watching those I care for die because of your schemes. I doubt Master Xu would ever wish to see you again.”

His words were laced with quiet scorn, but the other man only smiled. “I’m curious. When did you discover me? Just because I said a few extra words?”

Lu Yu’s face darkened. “I’m curious too. When exactly did you possess Xu Zhichun—before or after our soul-searching? When we left Wu City, the Xu Zhichun following us was probably no longer Xu Zhichun. You masquerade as a deity to deceive mortals—and you dare use the same trick on us?”

Lu Yu’s greatest resentment stemmed from the seal that crippled his right hand. Seeing the true culprit now, his fury surged.

The man remained calm, his tone unhurried. “Xu Zhichun is my friend. Since you wanted to search his soul, it was only natural that I helped.”

Such shameless composure drew a glare from Lu Yu. He opened his mouth to retort, but before a sound could leave his lips, the man’s figure suddenly split into three identical shadows, each lunging toward Lu Yu, Li Jianming, and the two Song brothers. 

Lu Yu’s right hand was sealed, and the others were of lower cultivation. Penglai Immortal, Wen Jianxian, and Lu Yu immediately joined forces, forming a protective barrier.

The three phantoms were destroyed in an instant—nothing more than illusory shells. The real body was nowhere in sight.

The five Tiandao Sect peak masters, guarding the statue, scanned the hall anxiously. Then, Qin Zheng, clutching the Immortal Bone, saw a flash of movement—the figure appeared before him.

His heart leapt. The deity’s hand was already reaching for the Immortal Bone, moving so fast she couldn’t react.

Yun Zhuoran should have kept it, he thought bitterly. He should never have taken it.

As he instinctively stepped back, a sweep of white robes intercepted the strike. Qin Zheng quickly retreated to the side of the peak masters, catching his breath—only to see Yun Zhuoran and Xu Zhichun locked in a rapid exchange.

A flare of golden light split the air. Xu Zhichun lunged again, movements sharp and precise.

The Immortal Bone burned hot in Qin Zheng’s hands. He dared not let go; if he did, it would be taken. 

The four peak masters quickly gathered, summoning their spiritual weapons to shield him.

Before they reached him, the man in green seized him by the collar—but a flash of red darted between them. 

The Heart Demon, grinning like a fox, threw a surge of black mist directly at his face.

The man in green’s eyes darkened. A brilliant golden light flared from his palm, colliding violently with the black mist. The shockwave sent them both staggering back. 

Xu Zhichun regained his footing and glanced around—only to find himself surrounded.

Yun Zhuoran, Penglai Immortal, Lu Yu, and Wen Jianxian had closed in, sealing every path of retreat. The red-clad youth had vanished once again.

This deity had fought Yun Zhuoran and the Heart Demon before. He knew Yun Zhuoran alone was no easy foe—and the red-clad spirit by his side was equally dangerous. Wariness filled his eyes as he calculated his next move.

“Where’s the Little Island Master?” Xu Zhichun asked coldly, scanning the hall.

Yun Zhuoran’s expression was icy. “If you didn’t want Xu Zhichun to reveal your hiding place, you wouldn’t have possessed him and come here. Why appear now, to seize Gu Shenshu’s Immortal Bone? Could it be true—what you said before—that merging it with his remnant soul might awaken him?”

The expression on Xu Zhichun’s face remained placid, though the glint in his eyes hinted at mockery.

He neither confirmed nor denied it, his tone carrying a subtle lure, as though waiting for Yun Zhuoran to take the bait. 

Unmoved, Yun Zhuoran ordered calmly, “Peak Master Qin, send the Immortal Bone to Sect Master Gu’s remnant soul. It’s already reacting. Return it to its rightful place.”

Qin Zheng hesitated. “Alright—”

A quiet, chilling laugh cut him off. Xu Zhichun lowered his head, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Qin Zheng’s eyes flicked toward the four peak masters. They sensed the danger too.

Yun Zhuoran’s tone sharpened. “Peak Master Qin—that is Gu Shenshu’s Immortal Bone.”

“But—”

“Hurry!”

The command left no room for refusal. Qin Zheng’s hesitation lasted only a heartbeat before he ran toward the statue, clutching the bone.

Xu Zhichun’s head remained bowed, unmoving. Yet Lu Yu, watching intently, felt the faint pulse of golden light stir beneath his sealed sleeve. Pain shot up his arm.

The Penglai Immortal noticed. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

“Nothing,” Lu Yu said quickly, shaking his head—but his eyes stayed locked on Xu Zhichun. Understanding flashed across his face.

Xu Zhichun moved. The seal on Lu Yu’s arm flared violently—reacting as if on command.

Just as they closed in to subdue him, Xu Zhichun slipped through the gap in their encirclement, his movements swift and precise.

The green-robed figure rushed toward the statue, bypassing the peak masters entirely. He was going for Qin Zheng. Yun Zhuoran and Penglai Immortal moved at once to block him.

Xu Zhichun’s lips curved into a smirk. No matter how fast Yun Zhuoran was, he couldn’t catch him. His gaze locked on Qin Zheng.

But as he closed in, he suddenly froze. His instincts screamed. He spun and struck out behind him.

Black mist exploded outward, engulfing the golden light. From within it, the red-clad youth emerged, eyes glinting. “Trying the same ambush twice?”

By then, Yun Zhuoran and the others had caught up. Xu Zhichun was surrounded again, his movements restrained. The Heart Demon joined the fray, and for the first time, the enemy faltered. 

The four peak masters swiftly formed a defensive barrier around the statue.

The hall quaked from the force of their attacks. Fortunately, the temple’s protective formations—laid long ago during its construction—activated in time, barely keeping the building intact.

Even with five opponents, they hesitated to strike killing blows, unwilling to destroy Xu Zhichun’s body. The fight dragged on. 

A wisp of black mist coiled around Yun Zhuoran’s arm and reshaped itself into the red-clad Heart Demon, who immediately lunged at the deity with fierce delight.

“Peak Master Qin!” Yun Zhuoran shouted. “Fuse the Immortal Bone with Sect Master Gu’s remnant soul!”

After two failed attempts, Qin Zheng steadied his breathing. Under the protection of the peak masters, he performed the ritual and sent the Immortal Bone toward the statue.

From the corner of his eye, she could see the ongoing battle—Xu Zhichun’s strikes grew faster and wilder, desperation bleeding through.

The Heart Demon, remembering the injuries Xu Zhichun had once inflicted on Yun Zhuoran, sneered. “You’re afraid. Afraid that Gu Shenshu will awaken, aren’t you?”

Xu Zhichun turned his head slightly, smiling faintly. His face retained Xu Zhichun’s familiar elegance, but the serene gentleness was gone. In its place was something eerily divine—and utterly inhuman.

“Stop talking. Kill him!” Lu Yu shouted, fury and frustration boiling over.

In the corner, Li Jianming clenched his fists tightly, sitting with Song Shao and Song Yun. His eyes never left the figure surrounded by five people. Several times, when he saw “Xu Zhichun” injured, he almost cried out.

This was not his godfather.

He knew it—but he could not bear to see his godfather’s body used as a puppet. All his hatred was directed at that god who had hurt his godfather again and again, but he couldn’t intervene without worsening the chaos.

Another burst of spiritual light flared from the golden statue. Pure spiritual energy poured out from the Immortal Bone, resonating with Gu Shenshu’s remnant soul. Without Qin Zheng’s guidance, the Immortal Bone floated toward the statue on its own.

Bathed in spiritual light, Gu Shenshu’s features on the lifelike statue gradually became distinct.

Just as the Immortal Bone was about to merge fully, the remnant soul urgently drew it in.

Xu Zhichun tried to interfere, but Lu Yu and the Heart Demon held him off, leaving him no chance. 

Seeing the Immortal Bone on the verge of merging, a trace of anxiety finally surfaced on his face.

Suddenly, a layer of golden light erupted from his body, forcing everyone to retreat.

Yun Zhuoran glanced at the statue, then at “Xu Zhichun,” and understood—he was truly panicking.

“Trap him!” Yun Zhuoran ordered sharply. “Do not let him interrupt!”

At all costs, they could not allow him to interfere with Gu Shenshu at this critical moment.

At the disturbance, the others immediately followed Yun Zhuoran, closing in once more to trap “Xu Zhichun” in the battle.

Xu Zhichun’s own cultivation was low, only at the Nascent Soul stage. Even with this deity’s power supporting him, he was still inferior to Shen Lingshu, who had comprehended the Immortal Bone. His only advantage was that no one dared to truly harm Xu Zhichun’s body. As long as he found an opening, he could snatch Gu Shenshu’s Immortal Bone.

Yun Zhuoran and the others indeed refrained from killing him. They only sought to restrain him.

Even with Lu Yu’s hand sealed, even with Yun Zhuoran still injured and refraining from using the Taiyin True Fire, the Immortal Bone was already returning to Gu Shenshu. “Xu Zhichun” had no choice but to pour more of his primordial power into this body.

He was racing against time.

But it was too late. The Immortal Bone fused completely with Gu Shenshu’s soul. A surge of holy energy erupted from the statue, and Gu Shenshu’s face came fully into focus. His immortal aura pierced the hall’s barrier, flooding the temple.

Xu Zhichun’s expression froze. Then it hardened into fury. “So be it. Even without the Immortal Bone… the Taiyin True Fire will do.”

Golden light burst from his palms, slicing through the air like blades. 

Yun Zhuoran raised his hand, swatting the lights aside and smashing them into the wall. The temple shook violently. He lowered his eyes, formed a seal, and cold, pale-golden flames surged out, forming a shield around him.

“Xu Zhichun” clearly intended to seize Yun Zhuoran. Seeing the Taiyin True Fire appear, he ignored everyone else’s attacks and charged straight forward, intending to meet the fire head-on.

But this was not his body.

Li Jianming’s heart clenched. Without thinking, he rushed forward, his face draining of color.

Yun Zhuoran was startled. The Taiyin True Fire vanished in an instant as he withdrew it. But “Xu Zhichun” did not stop. Smiling, he continued charging forward. 

Yun Zhuoran frowned—this deity was truly shameless, openly using Xu Zhichun’s body as a shield. 

A jade branch appeared in his hand.

Just as the two were about to clash, a figure suddenly rushed in front of Yun Zhuoran.

“Godfather, stop!”

Yun Zhuoran’s eyes widened slightly in shock as he looked at Li Jianming blocking his way.

“Xu Zhichun” did not stop.

He paused instead, lips curling into a mocking smile, as if ridiculing Li Jianming’s naïveté.

The next moment, a hand clamped around Li Jianming’s throat. His face flushed deep red as he struggled for breath. “Xu Zhichun” watched him with obvious enjoyment, shaking his head and smiling with false regret.

“You’re very naive. You’re a good child who thinks of your godfather. Unfortunately—I’m not your godfather.”

“Li Jianming!” 

Yun Zhuoran tightened his grip on the jade branch and was about to step forward when “Xu Zhichun” yanked Li Jianming in front of him as a shield.

Xu Zhichun pulled the boy closer, shielding himself. “I must say, I’m starting to envy my good friend Xu Zhichun,” he said with a smile. “How about I take his adopted son back to cultivate? We can consider it a way of settling our years of friendship.”

Seeing his disciple taken hostage, Wen Jianxian immediately sheathed his sword. His expression turned icy as he stared at “Xu Zhichun.” Penglai Immortal and Lu Yu also withdrew their attacks, irritation clear on their faces. With Li Jianming restrained, everyone was forced to stop.

Li Jianming gasped for air, trembling in Xu Zhichun’s grip.

“Xu Zhichun” smiled in satisfaction. The Heart Demon, who had vanished moments earlier, reappeared behind Yun Zhuoran. Seeing him, “Xu Zhichun” nodded slightly.

“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt him. Since I can’t take the Immortal Bone today, I’ll take something of equal value instead.”

Yun Zhuoran asked coldly, “The Taiyin True Fire?”

“No.” He smiled faintly. “I’ve changed my mind. This child will do.”

Li Jianming’s sword had long since fallen to the ground. He clutched “Xu Zhichun’s” arm tightly, forcing himself to turn his head despite the near suffocation. His voice was hoarse.

“Godfather…”

“Good child.”

That smile did not belong to his godfather. Only disappointment remained in Li Jianming’s eyes.

Wen Jianxian stepped forward. “He is my disciple. You cannot use him to threaten the Young Island Master. Release him.”

Though his sword was sheathed, the sword intent in his words was colder and sharper than steel. This was not a plea, but a warning.

“Xu Zhichun” shook his head. “I’m not threatening anyone. I simply like this child. His godfather is coming to see me, and he wishes to follow him. I’m merely helping them reunite.”

“Anyone who takes people from the Kunwu Sword Sect—” Wen Jianxian drew his spirit sword again. Icy sword qi spread like frost, creeping inch by inch to “Xu Zhichun’s” feet. His voice was frigid. “First ask my sword.”

“Master…” Li Jianming lowered his eyes, ashamed. “I’ve caused you trouble.”

He released “Xu Zhichun’s” arm and quietly drew a two-foot-long short sword from his waist.

“Xu Zhichun” noticed it at once and twisted his wrist, tightening his grip. “Don’t forget—this body belongs to your godfather…”

Li Jianming pressed his lips together and did not let go. He looked deeply at Xu Zhichun’s face, then suddenly grabbed the hilt and pulled it toward himself.

“Li Jianming!”

Everyone cried out in shock.

The blade pierced cloth and flesh, blood blooming across the white robes. A hand clamped down on the blade, stopping it short—it was Xu Zhichun’s hand.

At the same time, the hand at Li Jianming’s throat released him. 

Staggering, he heard a familiar, gentle voice before him.

“Ming’er. Let go.”

Everyone froze.

Li Jianming’s eyes widened. He released the dagger, watching as Xu Zhichun lowered it slowly. Blood ran down his hand, but the wound on Li Jianming’s shoulder was shallow.

“Godfather…”

Before he could say more, Xu Zhichun pressed a trembling, blood-stained hand to his chest, pushing him back. His expression twisted, as if fighting invisible pain. His gaze lingered on Li Jianming, filled with an emotion both tender and sorrowful.

Li Jianming stumbled backward, confusion flooding his eyes. “Godfather…”

“Don’t come closer!”

The soft but urgent warning made Li Jianming stop. Wen Jianxian immediately moved forward.

Yun Zhuoran caught the Heart Demon’s arm before he could act. His eyes were fixed on Xu Zhichun, wary of every movement.

Xu Zhichun’s expression flickered violently—anguish, defiance, restraint. He had not fully regained control of his body. 

Yun Zhuoran saw it instantly and signaled Wen Jianxian to hold Li Jianming back.

A faint relief crossed Xu Zhichun’s face. His shoulders eased. “Sect Master Wen,” he said quietly, “please… take care of Ming’er.”

Wen Jianxian’s expression darkened, his hands tightening on his sword hilt.

A split second later, Xu Zhichun’s face hardened. The faint warmth drained away, replaced by chilling calm. 

A cold glint flashed in his eyes. “Sleep peacefully,” he murmured, voice no longer his own. “I’ll look after your son for you.”

The sudden shift told everyone the truth—the deity of Fengtian Temple had taken control again. 

Weapons flew into their hands in unison. A beam of golden light burst forth, striking directly at Wen Jianxian and his disciple.

Without hesitation, Wen Jianxian shoved Li Jianming toward Penglai Immortal and Lu Yu, then drew his sword in a streak of white, cleaving the golden beam in two.

“Help him!” Yun Zhuoran called out, moving forward, the Heart Demon beside him.

Steel and light clashed again and again. Xu Zhichun fought like a man possessed—calm, cruel, his attacks deliberate and precise. Even the foremost swordsman of the righteous path struggled against him. 

Xu Zhichun parried Wen Jianxian’s frost-laden blade with effortless grace, smiling faintly as golden light gathered in his palm.

The glow flickered—then vanished.

Xu Zhichun froze mid-step, eyes flickering with clarity. The smile faded. “Enough… it ends here,” he whispered faintly. “I’ve repaid my debt.”

The spirit sword trembled before him. His expression softened. He made no effort to block it. Arms open, he closed his eyes.

This was Xu Zhichun himself—no longer the deity who had stolen his body.

“Wait—!” Wen Jianxian’s warning came too late.

A flash of cold light pierced Xu Zhichun’s chest. His body shuddered violently before collapsing.

Wen Jianxian stood motionless, sword still in hand, the blade dripping scarlet.

Only then did the others understand—he had struck the real Xu Zhichun.

“Godfather!” Li Jianming’s cry tore through the hall. He rushed forward, catching Xu Zhichun as he fell. 

Yun Zhuoran and Weiran stopped mid-stride. Penglai Immortal and Lu Yu froze, disbelief on their faces.

Li Jianming cradled Xu Zhichun in his arms, channeling spiritual energy desperately into his fading core.

“No… there’s no need,” Xu Zhichun rasped weakly, pressing his hand over Li Jianming’s. Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth. 

Li Jianming wiped it away with his sleeve, his trembling fingers brushing Xu Zhichun’s cheek and leaving a streak of red. His voice broke. “I can’t even do this right… It’s all my fault…”

Xu Zhichun gave a faint laugh. The movement tore the wound wider, staining his robes dark crimson.

“Godfather! Please, hold on! I’ll find someone—”

Xu Zhichun caught his wrist, voice barely above a whisper. “No need… Only by my death will he cease hunting you. Don’t blame your master—this was my choice.” He forced a faint smile despite the pain. “I’m relieved you’re safe. Ming’er… remember this. You are your Godfather’s only son, his pride. I leave this world with no regrets.”

Wen Jianxian approached slowly, expression stricken. He didn’t speak at first—he only watched the dying man in silence.

Xu Zhichun smiled faintly at him. “Sect Master Wen… meeting you was the greatest blessing of my life.” He coughed up blood but continued, each word softer than the last. “Please… remember what I said. And don’t let me come between you and your disciple.”

“Godfather…” Li Jianming’s voice trembled as he looked at his master. 

Wen Jianxian met his disciple’s eyes for a long, silent moment.

“Alright,” Wen Jianxian said at last, voice low and solemn.

Xu Zhichun smiled, then turned toward Yun Zhuoran and the others. 

Yun Zhuoran, sensing the end, stepped closer, his chest tightening.

“Master Xu…”

Xu Zhichun’s gaze focused on him. “Young Island Master… I remember now. The first time I met him—it was at Tianyan Palace.”

Yun Zhuoran frowned. “Tianyan Palace?”

He had never heard of such a place. 

Xu Zhichun nodded faintly, his eyes already dimming. “The Wu Clan’s vengeance…”

“I understand,” Yun Zhuoran said softly.

Xu Zhichun smiled once more, barely a breath remaining. He nodded. Then his eyes closed.

“Godfather!” Li Jianming’s cry echoed through the silent hall.

Yun Zhuoran’s expression darkened. 

The Heart Demon tugged lightly at his sleeve, pointing toward the statue ahead.

A gentle golden radiance enveloped the hall, illuminating every face. Exhaustion melted away.

The Tiandao Sect peak masters stood frozen, eyes wide, as the once-lifeless statue before them slowly opened its eyes.

Under the divine light, Xu Zhichun’s ashen complexion softened. The faint trace of purple aura that only Yun Zhuoran could see dispersed completely.

At long last, the former Sect Master of the Tiandao Sect awoke. 

His gaze fell on Yun Zhuoran, calm and warm.

“Little Zhuoran,” said Gu Shenshu, his voice deep and steady. “You’ve grown up.”