When the Cannon Fodder Male Supporting Role Picks Up the Script - Chapter 163

Gu Shenshu’s awakening confirmed Yun Zhuoran’s suspicions. The deity of Fengtian Temple had personally tried to seize the Immortal Bone, knowing it was the key to Gu Shenshu’s resurrection. 

It should have been a joyous occasion for the Tiandao Sect, yet before anyone could celebrate, Wen Jianxian noticed a faint trace of breath still lingering within Xu Zhichun—his fragile spirit wavering between life and death.

Perhaps it was the divine radiance released by the Immortal Bone upon Gu Shenshu’s awakening, or perhaps fate had not yet abandoned Xu Zhichun. 

Though alive, his life hung by a thread, in desperate need of treatment.

Wen Jianxian immediately pleaded for aid. 

With Gu Shenshu’s quiet approval, the Tiandao Sect summoned the Miaozhu Peak Master, renowned for his medical skills, to personally tend to Xu Zhichun’s wounds.

Wen Jianxian, his disciples, and the others hurriedly took Xu Zhichun away, leaving the remaining matters to the sect’s elders. 

When Qin Zheng finished seeing them off and turned back, his initial excitement gave way to astonishment.

The spirit of their sect leader, Gu Shenshu, sat serenely before the statue, his hands folded in his lap, a faintly confused but courteous smile on his lips.

Qin Zheng, always perceptive, immediately sensed his disorientation. “Sect Master, the injured man is Sect Master Wen’s foster father,” he explained, setting aside the earlier dispute over the Immortal Bone. “I’ll report everything later. Sect Master, it has been twenty years—you’ve finally awakened.”

“Thank you for your efforts.” Gu Shenshu inclined his head, then glanced toward the temple doors. “But have you forgotten something?”

Qin Zheng and the other three Peak Masters stiffened.

“Why did my disciple, Yun Zhuoran, also follow Sect Master Wen?” Gu Shenshu asked mildly, amusement flickering in his eyes. “And why are there two of them?”

“This…” Qin Zheng hesitated, then realized that only the four Peak Masters remained in the hall. Miaozhu had gone to treat Xu Zhichun, and Yun Zhuoran had quietly left with Wen Jianxian’s group.

No wonder the Sect Master kept glancing at the door.

“Where’s Yu’er?” Gu Shenshu asked gently.

The “Yu’er” he referred to could only be his true disciple—Shen Lingshu.

But Shen Lingshu’s fate was difficult to explain.

The Peak Masters exchanged uneasy glances. 

Jiang Zhuo and his wife lowered their heads, their smiles fading.

Gu Shenshu sighed softly. “It seems much has happened in the Tiandao Sect during my absence.”

Guilt settled heavily upon Qin Zheng and the Qingyang Peak Master as they recounted the events of recent years—from their mistreatment of Yun Zhuoran to Shen Lingshu’s fall. 

Gu Shenshu’s expression gradually darkened as he listened in silence.

The temple grew quiet. Qin Zheng hesitated, then asked in a low voice, “Master, your death back then… was it truly caused by Jue Fei and the others?”

Gu Shenshu lowered his gaze, a faint, elegant smile curving his lips. Refined yet commanding, his presence filled the hall with quiet authority.

“Indeed,” he replied calmly, easing Qin Zheng’s unease. “In the end, I failed to preserve my Dao heart. I let obsession fester, which led to my downfall—and brought great trouble to all of you. That floating city… does it now belong to Xiao Zhuoran? I’ve only heard rumors.”

His tone carried no reproach, only wistfulness.

Qin Zheng and the others exchanged puzzled looks. Gu Shenshu clearly knew what had been done to Yun Zhuoran—how Jue Fei and Shen Fu had deceived the sect for years—yet he expressed no anger. Even after hearing of Shen Lingshu’s death, he remained composed.

The Qingyang Peak Master ventured cautiously, “Sect Master…”

“There’s no need to call me that,” Gu Shenshu interrupted gently but firmly. “I’ve been dead for twenty years. No sect would keep its leader’s seat vacant for so long. I am but a remnant soul now, unfit to bear that title. I trust in your leadership—whomever the sect elects as Master.”

“The Sect Master is still the Sect Master!” the Qingyang Peak Master said anxiously. “Without you, the Tiandao Sect would never have endured.”

Gu Shenshu smiled faintly. “You have already led well. The Tiandao Sect needs substance, not symbols. The past twenty years are beyond reproach. You feel guilt, and I feel shame. Perhaps it was my arrogance that led to my fall at the Demon-Sealing Well. I clung too tightly to the Supreme Emotionless Dao, believing I had grasped the Heavenly Way—never realizing that before the true Dao, I was merely a frog gazing at the sky from the bottom of a well.”

The Peak Masters shook their heads in protest, but Gu Shenshu only smiled. “Cultivation is a lifelong pursuit. No one is without fault. I strayed too far, that’s all. Now that I’ve awakened, I must set my heart at peace and cultivate anew.”

The hall fell silent again. Understanding his intent, the elders excused themselves.

Before they departed, Gu Shenshu glanced toward the statue, his smile tinged with warmth. “Disciples, from now on, there’s no need to worship me. I am awake, and I no longer require incense offerings.”

The Qingyang Peak Master nodded immediately. Qin Zheng, however, hesitated.

“Is there something else?” Gu Shenshu asked.

Qin Zheng lowered his gaze. “Master… after Shen Lingshu’s death, I brought him back. I wanted you to decide what should be done.”

Gu Shenshu was silent for a long moment, then sighed. “Bury him in the back mountain.”

Qin Zheng faltered. “But Sect Master, he was unwilling to return to the Tiandao Sect.”

“He didn’t like Shengjing either,” Gu Shenshu said mildly. “See to it.”

Qin Zheng and the Qingyang Peak Master exchanged glances, bowed, and left the temple in silence, relief mingled with melancholy.

Jiang Zhuo and his wife remained behind to guard the hall.

Meanwhile, on Qingmiao Peak, the Miaozhu Peak Master treated Xu Zhichun’s injuries, assisted by Penglai Immortal and Lu Yu, who supplied spiritual energy. Wen Jianxian and Li Jianming stood outside the chamber as silent sentinels, seemingly forgetting their plan to return to Lingshan Sect.

Beyond the door, Yun Zhuoran leaned quietly against the frame, watching fine snow drift through the air. The Heart Demon, ever near, sat perched beside him.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Yun Zhuoran asked helplessly.

The Heart Demon rested his chin on his knees, eyes fixed on him. “Brother, are you unhappy?”

“No,” Yun Zhuoran murmured, lowering his gaze. He sat on the threshold, the hall’s barrier keeping the snow at bay. “After so many years in the Tiandao Sect, this is my first time on Qingmiao Peak. I didn’t expect it to be this beautiful.”

The Heart Demon blinked and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Brother is unhappy… Brother, Gu Shenshu has awakened. Why don’t you stay and talk to him?”

Yun Zhuoran’s voice was calm. “Gu Shenshu just woke. The sect will have many matters to discuss with him. Weiran, don’t forget—we belong to Penglai Island now.”

The Heart Demon pouted. “Fine. If brother won’t admit it, it’s enough that Weiran knows. Saying it out loud will only make brother more unhappy.”

Yun Zhuoran tilted his head, expression unreadable. 

The Heart Demon pretended to shrink away. “Brother, don’t look at me like that. I’m scared.”

Yun Zhuoran’s gaze softened slightly. He reached out and covered Weiran’s eyes. “You’re sleepy. Go to sleep.”

The Heart Demon blinked.“I’m not sleepy!” He pulled Yun Zhuoran’s hand away and sighed quietly. “Alright, I won’t upset you anymore. Brother, you clearly wanted to see Gu Shenshu. You can hide it from others, but you can’t hide it from me. But you still took me away. Brother, are you afraid Gu Shenshu will blame you for Shen Lingshu’s death?”

Yun Zhuoran’s expression darkened.

The Heart Demon hugged him tightly. “Brother, don’t be afraid. I’ll stay with you. If Gu Shenshu scolds you, let him scold me. Shen Lingshu had his Immortal Bone—no one else could harm him. Gu Shenshu will understand. You want to see him, so go. If he asks, I’ll say it was me—I forced Shen Lingshu to his death. It wasn’t your fault.”

Yun Zhuoran’s eyes flickered. “And if he seeks vengeance for his disciple?”

The Heart Demon looked up at him, his dark eyes steady. “Then it’s up to you, Brother. Protect me.”

Yun Zhuoran was silent for a long time. At last, he rested his forehead against Weiran’s shoulder. “Don’t expose me again.”

Weiran patted his back gently, just as Yun Zhuoran often did for him. His eyes glowed faintly red as he gazed at the falling snow. “Brother, when the snow stops, let’s go see Gu Shenshu.”

Yun Zhuoran said nothing.

By dusk, the snow had finally ceased.

Descending Qingmiao Peak, Yun Zhuoran and Weiran arrived at the temple. Jiang Zhuo and his wife still guarded the entrance. Weiran lingered outside, not wanting Yun Zhuoran to feel burdened.

As if sensing Yun Zhuoran’s arrival, Gu Shenshu emerged from the statue and exchanged a few words with Jiang Zhuo and his wife. The two then withdrew to the entrance. Passing Yun Zhuoran, they merely nodded as usual. Yun Zhuoran returned the gesture, then looked toward Gu Shenshu floating before the statue. His fingers tightened as he stepped forward.

Gu Shenshu’s gaze was kind, his smile the same as Yun Zhuoran remembered, though his spirit form seemed translucent and faint.

Yun Zhuoran’s expression grew solemn. He stepped closer to the statue, hesitating for a moment before Gu Shenshu spoke first.

“I’ve been waiting for you for two hours,” he said, smiling faintly. “You’ve finally come.”

Yun Zhuoran froze. Gu Shenshu’s tone carried no blame, only calm warmth. 

Did he already know Shen Lingshu was dead—or how he had died?

“How is your friend surnamed Xu?” Gu Shenshu asked calmly.

The question caught Yun Zhuoran off guard, but he answered evenly. “He hasn’t woken yet.” He drew a quiet breath and added, “Shen Yu is dead.”

Gu Shenshu nodded once. “I know.”

Yun Zhuoran studied him carefully. Seeing no trace of anger, he continued, “He challenged me in Shengjing. It was a duel to the death. He lost.”

“I heard,” Gu Shenshu said simply. “It was his decision. Every cultivator in Shengjing witnessed it. Since he chose that path, the result was his to bear. You did nothing wrong.” Gu Shenshu’s smile softened. “Qin Zheng buried him in the back mountain, before the forest where he practiced swordsmanship as a child.”

Yun Zhuoran searched his face for resentment, but found none. The lack of accusation left him strangely unsettled.

Gu Shenshu waved a hand gently. “It’s difficult to speak from afar. Come closer.”

Still uncertain, Yun Zhuoran stepped forward. Was it truly over?

“Now that you’ve grown, you no longer resemble Yun Peiran,” Gu Shenshu said with quiet amusement. “You look more like me. I always thought your temperament better suited The Emotionless Dao, but Yun Peiran would never have allowed it. Still, as your master, I introduced you to the Dao—you were bound to inherit some of my influence. Tell me, what Dao do you follow now?”

Yun Zhuoran hesitated. How could he resemble Gu Shenshu? He clearly resembled Yun Peiran. 

The thought startled him, but the warmth in Gu Shenshu’s voice calmed him nonetheless.

Before he could answer, a soft golden light descended, landing between his brows. The flame mark there absorbed it instantly, radiating faint heat.

Gu Shenshu’s eyes brightened with recognition. “Is that the Taiyin True Fire?”

Yun Zhuoran quickly drew back the flame. “Stay back! The Taiyin True Fire can harm your soul!”

Gu Shenshu only smiled. “The fire lies within your control. It cannot hurt me.”

Yun Zhuoran lowered his gaze. “Were you waiting for me?”

“We’ve grown distant,” Gu Shenshu sighed softly.

Yun Zhuoran said nothing.

“How have you been these past few years?” Gu Shenshu’s tone was calm and patient. “I heard from Qin Zheng that you reunited with your brother. You rarely visit the Tiandao Sect anymore, so they don’t know much about you.” He gestured toward a nearby cushion. “Come, sit. Tell me.”

Yun Zhuoran’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he forgot what he wanted to say, staring at Gu Shenshu with a conflicted expression. 

Gu Shenshu smiled as he always did, warm and coaxing.

“Sit,” he repeated gently. “I heard I was trapped for a long time—and that you were the one who freed me.”

Yun Zhuoran sat down. Though he was nearly as tall as Gu Shenshu now, he still felt as if he were looking up to him.

“What would you like to know? Where should I start?”

“Anything,” Gu Shenshu replied, tone light with quiet amusement.

Yun Zhuoran thought for a moment, then began from the matter of the floating city. “Did Ji Yan and Jue Fei truly conspire to kill you? And did Shen Fu take advantage of the chaos to steal your Immortal Bone?”

Gu Shenshu remained calm. “I was careless.”

“Then it’s true,” Yun Zhuoran said under his breath.

Gu Shenshu’s faint smile didn’t falter. “Had the Gu family not intervened, I would not have fallen.”

Yun Zhuoran’s eyes darkened. “From what I discovered, the one assisting Ji Yan was a deity from Fengtian Temple. I went to Yun City to investigate. Before Yun Peiran vanished, he told others he was heading to Fengtian Temple. I followed his trail, but no one there had ever seen him.”

Gu Shenshu met his gaze, a nostalgic smile softening his expression. “Fengtian Temple… tell me everything, Little Zhuoran.”

Yun Zhuoran gave a faint, rueful smile. “I’m not your disciple.”

Gu Shenshu’s voice was calm, tinged with amusement. “Not yet. But now that I’ve returned, there’s still time to make it official. Yun Peiran is gone—no one can object.”

Yun Zhuoran ignored the offer and continued recounting what had transpired in Fengtian Temple and Wu City.

As he spoke, Gu Shenshu’s gaze shifted toward the red-clad figure standing just outside the temple doors. His tone was curious. “And who is that? He looks remarkably like you. Even his aura resembles yours.”

The Heart Demon, unaware of the attention, paced restlessly along the corridor. 

Yun Zhuoran’s expression softened. “His name is Weiran.”

Gu Shenshu observed the young man for a long moment, then turned back, noting the rare gentleness that flickered across Yun Zhuoran’s face. “Little Zhuoran,” he asked quietly, “you seem to care for him deeply.”

Yun Zhuoran’s fingers tightened around his sleeve before he could stop himself. A faint flush crept up his ears. His gaze lingered on Weiran, then loosened.

“Yes,” he admitted softly. “Very much.”