Chapter 75

Chapter 75: It’s Only Right for You to Treat Me Well!

Hundred Nether Grass was a spiritual herb used to refine the Hundred Nether Pill.

Rumor had it the Hundred Nether Pill could cure a hundred poisons—a miracle medicine for healing injuries and saving lives.

Senior Sister Ye was imprisoned in the Eroding Wind Cave. The only thing An Ze could do now was find that medicine and give her a surprise the moment she came out.

And he would prove it to Song Wan Ning, too: even without her Heaven-Origin Heart-Nourishing Pill, Senior Sister Ye could still recover.

“No, no, you heard wrong! There’s no Hundred Nether Grass!”

The people at the next table waved their hands frantically, faces tight with nerves. The more they tried to cover it up, the more An Ze’s doubts evaporated.

His eyes lit up. He didn’t hesitate—he strode out of the inn and headed straight for the mountain the man had mentioned.

He never saw the looks the people at the next table exchanged as soon as he left, nor the triumphant smiles that followed.

Sure enough. Impulsive to the bone.

—

By the time An Ze reached the mountains, ten days had passed. He was panting from exhaustion, but his spirits were high.

The mountain before him was called Ghost Mountain. It was said that tens of millions of years ago, it had been a battlefield and a burial ground, corpses piled across the land, resentment rising to the heavens. Later, Ghost Cultivators appeared and stirred up trouble.

It wasn’t until ten thousand years ago that everything finally quieted down.

Ghost Mountain had no ghosts now, but it had plenty of treasures.

An Ze swallowed a spirit-replenishing pill, fixed his gaze on the looming slopes, and plunged in.

“Hundred Nether Grass… Hundred Nether Grass…”

He followed the winding trail, searching as he went, pushing deeper into the mountains with every step.

After the time it took an incense stick to burn, Song Wan Ning appeared at the foot of the mountain, her expression indifferent.

She stared at Ghost Mountain. Her hand trembled without her meaning it to, and scenes of her past life’s tragedy surged up before her eyes like a tide.

As for An Ze, she’d wanted to deal with him long ago.

Now that her Martial Uncle had reached the Ascension Stage, she no longer had misgivings. There was no reason to hold back.

—

Deep in Ghost Mountain, An Ze’s expression grew heavier with every hour. He couldn’t help muttering under his breath.

“Is this really the place those two talked about? I’ve searched for so long—why haven’t I seen it?”

“Did I go the wrong way?”

They’d described it clearly. He’d followed their directions. He’d gotten here—

That thought had barely formed when a sudden disturbance rustled through the underbrush behind him.

“Who’s there?!”

An Ze whipped around, heart leaping into his throat. Before he could fully turn, something slammed into him and sent him flying.

In a panic, he yanked out his magic treasure. The thing charged again, struck with brutal force, and knocked the treasure away as if it were nothing.

“Ah—!”

He crashed into a massive boulder. His insides jolted from the impact, and blood spilled from his mouth in choking bursts.

Shaking, he lifted his head.

A Wu Meng Beast.

It was hideous, its features twisted and misplaced, as if someone had forced them into the wrong positions. Three thick, rigid horns jutted from its head, caked with filth. A ring of coarse fur encircled its neck.

An Ze’s pupils shrank.

Fifth Rank.

Strength on par with the Golden Core Stage.

He didn’t think twice. He turned and ran.

A high-level demon beast—why hadn’t those two warned him?

Damn it!

He fled in a blind panic, cursing them with every breath, fear flooding his heart.

But the Wu Meng Beast had been hungry for far too long. How could it let prey like this escape?

It chased him down with terrifying ease.

Very soon, An Ze was beaten to the brink of death.

His screams tore through the forest. The Wu Meng Beast smashed him again and again with its massive paws—blood spraying, bones snapping, the sound sharp and wet. Flesh split open; some of it collapsed into pulp. It was horrifying.

“No—!”

An Ze’s vision swam. A paw rose above his head, shadow swallowing him whole.

If it came down, he would die on the spot.

He refused to accept it.

He couldn’t die here.

He still had grudges to settle. Debts of gratitude to repay.

He absolutely could not die here.

At the critical moment, a figure descended from the sky.

Pressure swept over the clearing like an invisible mountain. The Wu Meng Beast froze, pinned so completely it couldn’t even twitch.

The raised paw failed to fall.

An Ze sucked in a shaking breath and lay there, trembling, his mind ringing.

“Th-thank you for your ki—”

The figure turned.

Song Wan Ning.

An Ze froze.

The word rose in his throat on instinct. “Mas—”

He swallowed it down hard.

His face twisted. “W-why… is it… you…”

Even now, battered and bleeding, he still stubbornly turned his gaze away. Yet in his heart, relief surged—Song Wan Ning was here. He was safe.

Even after expelling him, she couldn’t stop worrying about him. Otherwise, why would she be here?

An Ze’s chest swelled with smug satisfaction. With talent like his, how could Song Wan Ning truly bear to give him up?

“I came to ask you a question.” Song Wan Ning stared at him, gaze dropping to his mangled body. A dark glint flickered in her eyes. “Why do you care so much about Ye Chu Xue?”

An Ze didn’t even like Ye Chu Xue, yet he’d stood up for her, searched for medicine for her, even killed his master for her.

Song Wan Ning wanted to understand it.

An Ze tugged at the corner of his mouth, trying to smile, but the movement pulled pain through him so sharply he hissed. Still, he forced the words out, stammering between breaths.

“Ye… once… on a mission… s-saved… my… life…”

There was pride in his eyes as he spoke, as if this connection alone made him righteous.

Song Wan Ning understood.

Just as she’d guessed.

“Then wasn’t I good to you?”

It was the question she’d pressed down for far too long.

Everyone had emotions. Desires. She was no exception.

How could she not care about everything she’d given in her past life?

If she truly didn’t care, she wouldn’t hate so deeply in this one.

So she wanted an answer.

An Ze stared at her, confused, as if she’d asked something absurd.

“You… being… good to me… isn’t that… how it should be?”

“If you hadn’t… valued my… t-talent… you wouldn’t have… taken me in…”

To him, Song Wan Ning had accepted him for his talent. Any kindness from her was only natural—an exchange, a transaction.

But Ye Chu Xue was different.

Ye Chu Xue was kind to him for no reason at all.

Only because she was kind.

The truth spilled from An Ze’s mouth without hesitation.

Song Wan Ning went blank for a moment.

In her past life, she’d been hunted down and forced into Ghost Mountain. In the midst of danger, she’d sent messages to several disciples.

She hadn’t known they’d already betrayed her. She’d still clung to the hope that her disciples would come.

At the edge of despair, An Ze had appeared.

For one heartbeat, she’d thought help had arrived.

Instead, she’d met killing intent.

“Master, I heard you’ve fallen into the demonic path. Now that I see you today, it’s clear. Come back to the sect with me and accept punishment at once!”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Master. It’s just that demonic aura is pouring off you—anyone can tell at a glance!”

“You won’t go back? Hah. Then don’t blame me for putting righteousness first!”

…

He’d attacked her without the slightest regard for their master-disciple bond. There had been no respect in his eyes.

Just like now.

Song Wan Ning suddenly laughed—softly at first, then sharper, as understanding snapped into place.

Whether it was Bai Yang, whom she’d raised with her own hands, or An Ze, whom the senior brothers had doted on, they’d all raised their blades against her for the same reason.

Because she’d spoiled them too much.

Because she’d pampered them, asked for nothing, demanded nothing, they’d grown reckless and unchecked. They’d taken her sacrifices for granted until gratitude no longer existed.

After she fell into demonic cultivation, they’d wrapped themselves in the banner of “purging evil and defending the righteous path” and killed her—using her death to polish their own names.

She’d been wrong.

But the mistake wasn’t in being kind.

It was in taking them as disciples in the first place.