Another quarter of an hour passed before the little sapling reluctantly shifted its roots, as if expressing disdain for Chen Yixin’s praise. Yet the moment Chen Yixin tilted his head toward it, it hurriedly drew its roots back, feigning indifference.
A faint smile curved Chen Yixin’s lips. He indulged the sapling’s petty temperament without restraint. By now, he had already grasped its weakness—afraid of being touched, afraid of being kissed, and especially afraid of being held in the mouth. Still, his gestures were merely affectionate; he had no intention of harming it.
“When we enter the Burning Heaven Nether Palace, there will surely be something useful for you. No need to stand on ceremony with me.”
As he spoke, his gaze wandered about. From time to time, he reached out to touch the stone walls. His divine sense had probed this place countless times already, yet each attempt was blocked by an unseen barrier, leaving him unable to discern anything within.
Hearing his words, the little sapling leaned closer to his neck, its roots coiling lightly around him. This was not an act of affection—it had sensed something amiss.
Chen Yixin halted.
He felt it too.
Turning slightly, he examined the stone wall to his right with care.
“Two entrances…?”
And neither felt particularly reassuring.
He lifted his foot, intending to continue forward—but the sapling extended a root and pointed toward the wall. The seemingly solid stone dissolved at once, revealing a pitch-black stone door.
“Here?” Chen Yixin hesitated, glancing sideways.
The sapling turned its bud away, refusing to respond.
Chen Yixin fell silent for a moment, somewhat speechless. In the end, he chose to trust it.
Placing his hand upon the stone door, he pushed—
Only to find it was but an illusion.
His body tilted forward, and in an instant, he was dragged into a pitch-dark vortex of flowing light. The world spun violently around him, accompanied by a howling wind akin to the savage gales of the Xiguang Plains.
Chen Yixin seized the sapling and held it close. Spiritual energy surged forth, forming a protective barrier. Talismans and treasures were deployed in succession.
His instincts had not been wrong.
This unfathomable dark passage was fraught with danger.
“—!”
A blade of wind pierced through his defenses, slicing open his protective robe. Blood welled forth.
Chen Yixin sucked in a breath.
As a sword cultivator, he was no stranger to pain—but the agony inflicted by that wind blade far exceeded his expectations.
The sapling in his arms stirred.
Chen Yixin lowered his gaze, sending a strand of spiritual thought.
“Don’t move.”
In this unknown abyss, if he were to lose it—
He might never find it again.
“Don’t blame yourself. The other entrance might have been even more dangerous.”
The sapling stilled, yet its roots extended once more, wrapping around his wound. It drew out a mass of blackened blood.
Chen Yixin felt the pain ease somewhat.
He gently touched its bud.
“No need to worry. I’m fine.”
Words of comfort—
Though even he was not certain they were true.
He did not know how long he endured within that vortex. When he finally emerged, aside from his face, his body was covered in wounds. His robes were torn to shreds, his flesh marred with countless gashes—he cut a pitiful figure.
The sapling fared no better.
It leapt from his arms to the ground, expelling mouthfuls of dark blood—the very toxins it had drawn from him. Without it, Chen Yixin would never have survived that storm.
His complexion was pale, yet he did not immediately sit to regulate his breath. Instead, he waited until the sapling finished, then scooped it back into his arms and pressed onward.
After some distance—
He suddenly froze.
“This place…”
He did not finish his sentence.
His expression grew even more solemn.
This place was exceedingly strange.
His cultivation—Foundation Establishment, third layer—had vanished completely.
He was no different from a mortal.
Though his body remained stronger than that of an ordinary man, that advantage meant little given his current injuries.
The sapling lay weakly in his arms.
Chen Yixin glanced down, a trace of concern surfacing in his eyes.
“A-Hua, don’t worry. I brought you here—I’ll take you out.”
All around them stretched a dense forest, thick with vegetation. From near and far came the roars of wild beasts.
Chen Yixin pressed onward, carefully avoiding predators. He chose a direction and followed it without deviation.
By his estimate, six hours had passed—
Yet the sky remained unchanged, as bright as when he had first arrived.
He gathered herbs and treated his wounds as best he could.
Only to be targeted by a giant python.
Misfortune, it seemed, came in succession.
Though he avoided the serpent’s fangs, he tumbled down a slope and twisted his ankle.
And so—
He stumbled into a valley.
A sea of flowers.
A lone wooden hut.
There were people here.
Chen Yixin tapped the sapling, urging it to search for help—
And collapsed beside the flower field.
The sapling, its awareness newly awakened, first noticed Chen Yixin’s unconscious state. It extended its roots, infusing him with a trace of its essence.
Only then did it turn toward the sea of flowers—
Where a man in black approached, step by step.
The sapling shot upward, transforming into a streak of light that vanished into the man’s brow.
For a fleeting moment, the man’s expression stiffened.
Lowering his gaze, he looked upon the blood-stained youth lying among the flowers.
He paused—
Then continued walking.
Yet before he could take another step—
A hand seized his ankle.
“Big… brother… I twisted my ankle… Could you take me in for a while?”
Chen Yixin looked up, his face full of pitiful appeal, his grip tightening on the man’s robe.
The term “big brother” was one he had learned from a younger girl in his clan—whenever she used it, none could refuse her.
“I can help you with chores… I can… pick flowers!”
Clutching the man’s robes, he struggled upright, then clung to his thigh even more firmly. His eyes blinked innocently.
At this moment, his storage pouch would not open. Aside from a few broken talismans, he had nothing.
In desperate times—
One had to rely on charm.
Surely no one could remain unmoved before such a beauty feigning helplessness.
Yet at the mention of “picking flowers,” the man’s expression darkened slightly.
He glanced at the hands clutching his leg—
Then at the dirt-streaked face that revealed little of its true appearance.
After a moment’s silence, he bent down—
And lifted Chen Yixin into his arms.
Step by step, he carried him toward the wooden hut.
“Ah—my A-Hua… bring it too…”
Chen Yixin looked around—
But the sapling was nowhere to be seen.
Before he could react further—
The man touched his brow.
Darkness claimed him once more.
The man in black was Wenren Li.
A being of extraordinary nature—
A demonic fetus with three forms: human, beast, and spirit.
The sapling had been his spiritual form.
The man standing here was his soul form.
Three bodies cultivated as one—
A path that made advancement unimaginably difficult.
“A-Hua…”
Wenren Li murmured the name, his expression turning faintly awkward.
Still, he carefully placed Chen Yixin upon the only bed in the room, fetched water, removed his tattered garments, and tended to his wounds.
In this place, cultivation was suppressed.
Wenren Li, once at the level of a Soul Transformation cultivator, was no exception.
Moments ago, he had relied on soul power to send Chen Yixin to sleep.
For everything else—
He had to rely on mortal means.
Fortunately, he had lived through countless years, even spending nearly ten thousand as a mortal.
This situation did not trouble him.
When Chen Yixin awoke, his clothes had been changed, and his wounds had begun to heal.
A sharp glint flashed in his eyes—
But the man in black was nowhere to be seen.
“Big brother? Big brother…”
He called out again, though his face no longer held any trace of meekness.
“I’m hungry… Did you find my A-Hua?”
No answer came.
After a while, he confirmed—the man was gone.
Limping, he made his way toward the door.
If that silent blockhead wouldn’t help—
He would find his way himself.
“A-Hua—!”
He pushed the door open and called out loudly.
At that very moment—
Wenren Li turned his head.
Both froze.
Their gazes met.
Chen Yixin scratched his nose, suddenly feeling a trace of guilt.
“I’m looking for my A-Hua. It came in here with me—I can’t just leave it behind.”
Wenren Li said nothing.
He walked over, crouched down, and took hold of Chen Yixin’s injured ankle.
Chen Yixin swallowed nervously—
And forgot everything he had intended to say.
After examining it, Wenren Li set the foot down, frowned slightly, and silently carried him back to the bed.
“…Could he be a native? Doesn’t understand me?”
Chen Yixin muttered, frowning.
He leaned aside, craning his neck to call again.
“A-Hua—!”
He refused to give up.
Wenren Li watched him in silence.
He disliked that name—
Yet he had no desire to speak.
One called.
One watched.
Until Chen Yixin grew tired—hungry—
And turned back with that pitiful expression once more.
“Hey, wooden block… I’m hungry…”
Since he assumed the man couldn’t understand him, he replaced “big brother” with “wooden block.”
He rubbed his stomach, tugging at Wenren Li’s robes, trying to convey his hunger—
But in doing so—
He pulled open the man’s clothing.
And caught sight of a familiar object.
The clay pot he had given the sapling.
Wenren Li stiffened.
He had not expected Chen Yixin to suddenly grow so bold.
A faint flush rose to his face as he instinctively tried to retreat—
But Chen Yixin pressed closer, his hand slipping toward his neck.
“You… shouldn’t do this.”
He had lived among mortals long enough to know—
Such intimacy belonged only to lovers or bonded partners.
They were neither.
“Oh?”
Chen Yixin ignored the pain in his leg, wrapping himself around Wenren Li, touching, searching—almost even—
“Then what? Are you going to shout?”
Next
Futile Devices Scans 
Leave a comment