Rebirth As A Human Cauldron Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Feng Li blinked slowly, his expression somewhat vacant, with a touch of cuteness in his appearance.

Qin Duan waved his hand, igniting a few more talisman fires, and removed his mask. “After a few days apart, you’ve managed to transform yourself into this look…” He sighed, raising his hand to jingle the silver bells on his wrist impatiently. “Be a good boy and help me take this thing off.”

His hands were still stained with warm blood, his eyes ablaze with fire, giving them a captivating shine.

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Qin Duan approached a few steps, pinning Feng Li between the trees. He swiftly caught hold of Feng Li’s left hand, a swift pinch resulting in ice falling to the ground and the shimmer of a frost pattern lingering on the edge of his sword, like delicate flowers.

Pinching Feng Li’s pulse, Qin Duan’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper.

Feng Li glanced at him once, then averted his gaze. This action made Qin Duan somewhat exasperated. He extended his other bloodstained hand, crimson fingertips gripping Feng Li’s chin, forcing him to turn his head.

“Look at me,” Qin Duan drew closer, staring directly into Feng Li’s eyes. “Tell me, who am I?”

Feng Li pressed his lips into a straight line, and after a moment, he spoke in a deep voice, “If you want to kill me, just do it… There’s no need to adopt his appearance to deceive me.”

Qin Duan: “…”

He nearly burst into laughter at this stubborn child’s attitude. Unable to resist, he playfully pinched the other’s face, but then found the blood to be too dirty and couldn’t help but pull up his sleeve to gently wipe it away, leaving behind a faint red mark.

Surprisingly, Feng Li behaved obediently, though his gaze was filled with puzzlement, as if he couldn’t fathom why Qin Duan hadn’t killed him yet… Damn, was he truly mistaking him for a demon?

Qin Duan gritted his teeth, grinding them for a moment before he reached out and grabbed Feng Li’s wrist, pulling him forward a few steps.

“Come down the mountain. I’ll find a place to heal your injuries.” If he had known about this earlier, he would have made use of Bai Lingzhi’s alchemy room… Since they couldn’t return to Liangzhou now and couldn’t use the Grand Medicine Hall’s alchemy furnace, they had to settle for a rundown one in a nearby village. As for the ingredients…

The more Qin Duan thought about it, the more troublesome it seemed. His brows furrowed deeply. He looked up at the peaks in the night, suddenly remembering that there were special lingzhi mushrooms on Duan Yun Cliff, known to be good for internal injuries.

At that time, Feng Li had forced himself to open a small world despite his insufficient cultivation level in order to break through a situation. For an ordinary person, such an attempt would have either failed or caused them to explode. Fortunately, this kid had fallen from the early stages of Mahayana realm, his meridians had been expanded before, so he barely endured such a burden.

However, despite that, he was still internally injured. His internal energy was in chaos, his current state was unstable, and it even showed a trend of further decline. Yet, it was never heard of for a Nascent Soul to regress to the Golden Core stage. Beyond that, it was no different from losing one’s soul.

Presently, Feng Li was barely holding on with his strong determination for the sword. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have hidden in this treacherous mountain, becoming a target for ants to push into a well.

Qin Duan’s face appeared calm, but his mind was in turmoil. When he had encountered Demon Abyss in Demon Abyss, he had seen his former self in this person. So, he stabbed him with a sword, sending him far away.

Feng Li was supposed to be a remarkable young hero, living his life splendidly with what he had lost. Instead, he was becoming more and more like what Qin Duan was now… Falling in cultivation, helpless, barely surviving among these mist-shrouded mountains. Even if he died, it would be a silent departure, carrying a lifetime of curses for no reason.

Just a residence, it couldn’t bring life or prevent death. Since he had already lost his soul, what value did these external things hold? As for making him… making him abandon everything he had, slaughtering his fellow cultivators, and earning the title of “Demon Lord”?

What about your guilt? Don’t you have any attachment to your sect? Or perhaps… in this world, can’t you find anything worth lingering for?

Qin Duan halted his steps and took a deep breath.

He admitted that he was losing control a bit — he couldn’t bear to see the young man he had pinned high hopes on, step by step, walking the path he had once taken. It felt as if he was announcing his own powerlessness.

Unable to resist, he turned back to look into the young man’s eyes. Perhaps the firelight had ignited the emotions in his eyes, causing his typically cold and calm gaze to take on a hint of warmth, now slightly hazy through the mist.

He quietly watched him, his beautiful face almost devoid of expression, but his focused gaze felt as if it was engraving the person into his soul.

Qin Duan’s heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t help but smile wryly.

You’re proud of being able to surpass the seven emotions and six desires, transforming emotions into indifference… Yet, why haven’t you realized that in your transformation from emotionless to emotional, the only remaining trace of genuine sentiment, meant to sustain your Dao Heart, is filled with you?

Now that he was gone, this remaining thread of sentiment had transformed into an unbeatable heart demon. Feng Li couldn’t shatter it, because if he did, he would truly become heartless, senseless, and devoid of feelings.

Then, what difference was there between him and the trees and grass in the forest?

The Feng Li of that time would no longer be recognized as a person.

The frosty tip of the sword fell to the ground, leaving a trail of white frost amidst the vegetation, trailing along with their footsteps.

Qin Duan changed their path, climbing directly towards the summit. As they went higher, the journey grew steeper. He weighed his own capability to ascend while also worrying about Feng Li – he feared that if he let go of this kid, he wouldn’t know where he would disappear to. This mountain was so vast that if they missed each other here, Qin Duan had no assurance that he could find him again. Helpless in the situation, he squatted down, saying, “Come over.”

Feng Li tilted his head, looking at him in confusion.

Qin Duan clicked his tongue, coaxing like one would with a child, “Be good, I’ll carry you up. It’s not safe here.”

Perhaps his slightly curved back appeared tempting, Feng Li lowered his gaze and took a step forward as if enchanted.

The other person was a bit shorter than him, their not-so-robust body clad in thin clothes, appearing even more emaciated. Yet, when Feng Li rested his face on the slightly stiff shoulder, he felt an unusual warmth.

The surging bloody aura within him seemed to have calmed down somewhat. Feng Li closed his eyes and let out a gentle breath.

He was exhausted, so exhausted that even holding a sword was a struggle. His eyelids were heavy as if they were about to close at any moment, but he maintained a trace of clarity, refusing to let it go.

Now, that tension had finally relaxed. There was a faint smell of blood on the other person, not the fragrance Feng Li liked, yet it strangely put him at ease.

For a fleeting moment, it felt like he had returned to the endless abyss of the Demonic Cave many years ago. Covered in wounds, he had laid on top of his senior, stepping over severed limbs and remains, crossing over a sea of corpses and blood to reach the safe haven they established…

For the Feng Li of that time, that small residence was his entire world.

Qin Duan adjusted his shoulder, trying to make Feng Li more comfortable against it. He leaped forward, lightly tapping between the rocky walls.

The light of dawn gradually emerged, its rays unable to penetrate the dense mist, leaving only a vague light and shadow in the distance, shrouded in a profound haze.

The talisman fire circled around them, illuminating a small patch of ground ahead and behind. Qin Duan fastened their bodies together with his belt, steadily ascending the cliff.

His childhood training in lightfoot technique, persisted even until his body was destroyed, had never been forgotten. It had naturally integrated into his soul and become an instinct.

The sky was getting brighter, the dawn’s light unable to pierce through the thick mist. In the distance, it left behind an indistinct play of light and shadow, veiled in extreme vagueness.

Symbols of fire revolved around them, lighting up a small area of earth in front and behind. Qin Duan tightened the belt binding them together, proceeding along the cliff.

Before long, he began to pant lightly. His clothes were soaked with sweat, adhering to Feng Li’s chest, emitting a faint warmth. His heart rate began to quicken.

By the time they reached the cave halfway up the mountain, Qin Duan’s legs were trembling, and he stumbled upon landing, almost causing Feng Li to fall to the ground.

The belt around their waists felt tight. Qin Duan exhaled, gently laying the person behind him on the ground. He glanced at the hand holding the sword, pondered for a moment, then half-knelt down and held it.

Qin Duan gripped Feng Li’s hand, lifting Chilling Frost high and bringing it down forcefully onto the silver ring on his right hand.

A clashing sound of metal and sparks flew. The frosty blade trembled slightly, its light flashing as it left a deep-cut scar on the ring.

Without changing his expression, Qin Duan struck down with a second strike.

His posture was as if he was afraid that his hand wouldn’t be chopped off along with the ring. However, without infusing any sword intent, Chilling Frost was just a simple treasured sword, not reaching the level of a peerless weapon.

But Qin Duan knew that if he didn’t remove this thing, he wouldn’t be able to reach Duan Yun Cliff. His right hand had already been refined by him. Even if it was lost, he could rebuild it using flesh and blood.

However, he forgot that it would hurt.

So, when the final strike was about to land, Feng Li, in a semi-unconscious state, suddenly opened his eyes. Chilling Frost emitted a prolonged humming sound, its blade resonating sharply. With a single flash, it cut through the silver ring, yet it barely stopped just above Qin Duan’s skin, unwilling to harm him even slightly.

Qin Duan was momentarily stunned. He heard Feng Li cough twice, blood streaking from the corner of his mouth, his face ghastly pale, a picture of misery.

Suddenly snapping back to his senses, Qin Duan reached out to wipe away the blood from Feng Li’s mouth, his anger uncontainable. “You’re still drawing your sword in this state. Do you want to die?”

Feng Li didn’t seem to know why he had done this. He stared at him dazedly, blood radiating from the depths of his black eyes, as if he had fallen into a demonic state. Yet, strangely, he remained eerily calm.

Thick demonic energy surged from his right hand. Qin Duan spent a moment digesting it before extending his fingertips to gently tap Feng Li’s forehead.

A red blood spot was imprinted on Feng Li’s forehead, seemingly alive with pulsating energy. It made his complexion even paler, though the touch of demonic trance in his eyes diminished, returning to his usual cold indifference.

“Who are you, really?” he asked softly.

Qin Duan didn’t answer. He just squeezed Feng Li’s face as if letting off steam. “Be good, rest and recover. I’ll be back.”

Saying this, he stood up, took a few steps back, and stood on the edge of the tumultuous cliff, flashing a faint smile at him.

The rising sun diluted the mist, allowing that smile to be unusually distinct. Seeing it, Feng Li’s heart was overcome with sorrow. He instinctively reached out to grasp it—

Yet, that person lightly leapt, his clothes fluttering, and he descended directly into the mist behind him.

Feng Li slowly curled his fingers, closing his palm, clenching it into a fist.

Three days passed since Qin Duan’s departure.

Following Qin Duan’s advice, Feng Li stayed in place, recovering quietly. He used his inner strength to mend the various wounds on his body, and the blood spot left by Qin Duan’s touch suppressed his inner demons. For a long time, he hadn’t felt so clear-headed—compared to the pain of injuries and being pursued, the persistent inner demons were the hardest to endure. They had entwined Feng Li for hundreds of years, plaguing his thoughts day and night, invading his dreams.

Now, with this spot of blood on his forehead, he could actually sleep better, without having to confront the bloody face in his dreams.

Yet, Feng Li was somewhat apprehensive. He feared that he would forget those things, forget the mistakes he had made… Even though every recollection brought with it the searing pain of memories etched into his bones.

After wrestling with himself for quite a while, Feng Li, gripping the sword, rose slowly and walked to the spot where that person had vanished.

At this moment, dusk was falling. The lingering sunlight tinged the dense white mist with a reddish hue, creating an endless expanse of bright crimson, oddly evoking a sense of tragedy.

The mountain wind was strong, flipping his clothes and hair. But it couldn’t disperse the mist before his eyes.

Feng Li stood quietly for a long time, eventually turning around and walking back.

It wasn’t until the fourth morning that a figure crossed over the countless peaks and lightly landed at the entrance of the cave.

Qin Duan carried a bamboo basket on his back, filled with various herbs of different sizes. He was covered in dirt from head to toe, resembling someone who had rolled in mud. His clothes were stained with dried blood, the residue of beasts he had killed in the mountain. Qin Duan had put a lot of effort into killing the beast, so naturally, he would dissolve its remains after its death, preserving the inner core as a medicine for Feng Li.

Wiping the sweat off his face, Qin Duan tried to appear less disheveled and even forced a smile.

But as he took just a couple of steps, his vision was momentarily blinded by a dazzling flash of sword light. In an instant, he found himself pinned to the ground, the basket of herbs spilling, scattering everything around.

The all-too-familiar Chilling Frost lay horizontally at his neck. His throat felt frozen, and he couldn’t speak for a moment. When he raised his head, he met those eyes as icy as a thin layer of ice.

Feng Li, looking down from above, gazed at him with a cold expression tinged with wariness. He questioned, “Who are you, really?”

“…”

Qin Duan’s frustration was so intense that it made his stomach ache. His eyelids twitched uncontrollably, and he wished he could slap that insolent little brat right now—if only he could overpower him. Even though the man was injured, the sword at his throat was all too real.

And this obstinate man continued to pester him with questions, one after another: “Why did you help me? Why did you save me… and why are you here?”

Feng Li, who usually spoke little, had now spoken so many words in a row that it made Qin Duan want to laugh. “For fuck’s sake, are you a child? Do you have to ask everything twice?”

Qin Duan hadn’t slept for days. His throat was hoarse, and his eyes were covered in large, dark circles, making him look somewhat haggard.

Feng Li furrowed his brow, instinctively retracting the sword slightly. But Qin Duan seized the opportunity, straightening up from the ground, and swiftly tossed out several talismans like window decorations, plastering them all over Feng Li’s face.

Qin Duan didn’t care whether they were effective or not. He simply felt annoyed every time he looked at that face. Suppressing his irritation, he bent down, picked up the scattered herbs from the ground, crushed one of them, and stuffed it into Feng Li’s mouth.

Feng Li: “…” His brows knitted in a pained expression.

Qin Duan: “If you dare point a sword at me again, I’ll stuff you with Huanglian.”

Seeing Feng Li’s sulking expression, Qin Duan’s mood finally improved a bit, and he couldn’t be bothered to argue about trivial things. After tidying up, when the effects of the talismans on Feng Li wore off, he moved his stiff shoulders, remained silent for a while, and then muttered an apology.

Even someone slow on the uptake like Feng Li could sense that Qin Duan meant no harm. Yet, this only made him feel more uncomfortable. Feng Li couldn’t shake the feeling that there was no reason for this person to treat him so kindly.

The unsheathing of the sword earlier had been a momentary impulse, as if he wanted to vent the pent-up restlessness of those days. Feng Li didn’t want to admit that, for a few brief moments, he had been afraid that Qin Duan wouldn’t return.

Qin Duan was currently the person in this world who resembled his senior the most. His instinct made him avoid harming Qin Duan, but…

The blurry interactions from before made Feng Li repeatedly feel as if he was interacting with his senior. This made him feel uneasy.

Seeing that the guy was struggling to form a coherent sentence once again, Qin Duan clicked his tongue. “Stop overthinking. I’m his son. I came in a dream to repay a debt for you.”

Without waiting to see the man’s reaction, Qin Duan turned away impatiently. “Let’s go, down the mountain.”

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