Chapter 79: Beware, Lest I Devour You

When my emotions finally calmed, I had no idea where I had run to. The path I came from was lost to memory, and my destination was shrouded in confusion.

“Zilian, Zilian.”

Darkness pressed in all around; no voices echoed, only the howling of the woods and the biting wind, carrying a chilling aura. Anxiety and terror surged within me all at once. I dared not look ahead, instead shutting my eyes and desperately rushing forward, only to stumble over something and fall hard to the ground.

“Ha ha ha ha...”

“Ha ha ha ha...”

From the depths of the darkness, a sinister, eerie laughter wafted out—sometimes brazen, sometimes uncanny.

I tried to rise, but the grass spirits only tightened their grip, my mind in turmoil, too weary to wield Moonshade to cut them away. I let go of my sword, buried my head against my knees, and began to sob quietly.

The ginseng elder’s words still echoed relentlessly in my ears. Zilian was an immortal, I was a demon—immortal and demon could never coexist. The only reason he brought me to roam the mortal world, letting me help him seek medicines, was because I was his disciple. And the only reason I am now his disciple is because I have been masquerading as a mortal.

One day, inevitably, he will uncover my true identity. When that day arrives, I cannot be certain if I will be as confident as I am today—confident in him, believing he will not forsake me, let alone harm me.

The forest was pitch-black; cold winds swept through, and strange cries occasionally sounded, unsettling me for reasons I could not explain. Thankfully, I was not truly a mortal; if I were, the moment Zilian tossed me into this forest, I would have been terrified by everything here—especially that insufferably annoying ginseng elder.

I patted the dust from my clothes and stood, deciding not to dwell on the elder’s words for now. Helping Zilian find the blood-red lingzhi tree that runs and leaps like a person was the task at hand.

A tree that runs and leaps—a running, jumping lingzhi tree. I muttered this to myself as I peered into the depths of the woods, but the darkness was so thick I could see nothing. Turning to look behind, I realized Zilian was outside this mountain; he probably couldn’t see me. So, I bent down and found a sturdy branch on the ground. With a touch of my finger, the branch ignited with an icy blue flame.

“Gugu gugu…”

Another strange sound echoed, reminiscent of a rumbling stomach.

Holding my makeshift torch, I slowly approached, curiosity guiding my gaze forward. Behind a stone, there was a pile of something—the source of the “gugu gugu” noises.

“Hey, who are you?” I asked softly.

“Gugu gugu…”

“Gugu gugu, gugu gugu…”

The calls grew more frequent, louder.

I inched closer, crouched down, and brought my torch nearer. There I found a child dressed entirely in green, crouched behind the stone. The cold wind made him shiver, and his thin arms hugged his legs tightly, making his small frame appear even frailer.

“Hey, are you a spirit cultivating in this mountain?” I asked gently, stepping closer.

“Gugu gugu…”

“I’m not—I’m not a spirit,” came the soft voice of a child, followed by more gugu calls.

“Then… are you very hungry?”

Worried I might frighten him, I lowered my voice as much as possible.

“Yes, I’m hungry,” he whispered, nodding his head.

Oh dear! Poor child. Likely, he wandered here by accident while playing, only to find himself lost as night fell, with no way home. Now, alone and hidden, he must be wiping away his tears.

I asked again, “Since you’re not a mountain spirit, why did you come here alone? Do you know this mountain is dangerous? There are many spirits and monsters, and they could eat you at any moment.”

“Eat me?”

His voice suddenly grew loud, as if startled. He looked up sharply, wariness etched across his face.