The poison of the Four Sufferings, the destruction of the Guixu—that was something Sang Dai had mentioned to him long ago.
None of them truly knew what the Four Sufferings were, yet they could destroy the entire Guixu, which was practically equivalent to obliterating the cultivation world.
More black patterns climbed up Wu Hanshu’s body, spreading outward from within his collar, covering the exposed skin.
“Beast King, do you know what the Four Sufferings truly are?”
Su Xuan’s expression was cold as he asked, “How do you know about them?”
Wu Hanshu smiled and said, “I’ve known about this thing for three hundred years.”
The black patterns on his body continued to spread, and Su Xuan’s gaze grew colder. He stepped forward and grabbed Wu Hanshu’s wrist, forcibly suppressing the black patterns on Wu Hanshu’s body with spiritual energy.
The moment they made contact, Su Xuan immediately sensed the deathly aura emanating from Wu Hanshu.
Su Xuan bent down to meet his gaze and indifferently withdrew his hand.
There was no need anymore—Wu Hanshu’s heart meridians were already mostly withered, and his death was only a few days away.
Straightening his posture, Su Xuan, finding the smell of alcohol in the room unpleasant, lazily leaned against the doorway.
He had no sympathy for Wu Hanshu. As a city lord, Wu Hanshu had been utterly incompetent. He had even played a role in the disappearances of rogue cultivators. If this were the Beast Realm, Su Xuan would undoubtedly punish him.
Wu Hanshu chuckled, unconcerned by Su Xuan’s rudeness, and put down his wine.
“My time is running out. Since you’re Sang Dai’s husband, it doesn’t matter if I tell you a few things now, while there’s still time… before he comes…”
The latter part of his sentence became mumbled and difficult to hear.
Su Xuan leaned against the wall silently, clearly waiting for Wu Hanshu to speak first.
Wu Hanshu, having drunk too much, murmured drunkenly, “It’s all too complicated. Where should I even begin?”
He lowered his head, his gaze vacant, his voice muttering as if to himself.
“So long ago… It was three hundred years ago when the Heroes Conference was held at Linglong Town. Ying Heng represented the Sword Sect, Immortal Lord Bai Yu represented Cangwu Daoist Temple, Weisheng Xuan came to Linglong Town to search for someone but inadvertently joined the Heroes Conference, and Shao Xi and Tan Muqing were both rogue cultivators who also participated in the Heroes Conference. I was the one who organized that year’s Heroes Conference.”
Shao Xi and Tan Muqing—upon hearing these names, Su Xuan immediately recognized them as Tan Huai’s parents.
“That year’s Heroes Conference was delayed for a long time due to certain reasons, and the cultivators stayed at Linglong Town. The six of us hit it off immediately and became friends. Weisheng Xuan and Bai Yu got married at Linglong Town. Shao Xi and Tan Muqing were also in mutual understanding at the time. Everything should have gone well. Everything should have gone well…”
The more he spoke, the quieter his voice became, while the black patterns on his body grew increasingly numerous.
Su Xuan couldn’t understand why Wu Hanshu had suddenly become so weak. Just yesterday at the Manxiang Pavilion, he had seemed perfectly fine.
Wu Hanshu suddenly began to laugh, but the glimmer of tears in the corners of his eyes told Su Xuan that he was not truly happy.
Su Xuan’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he asked, “What happened at the Heroes Conference?”
Wu Hanshu tilted his head slightly, his tears now unmistakable.
“The Heroes Conference… so many people died…” Wu Hanshu said, “You all don’t know, do you? Most of the people who participated in that Heroes Conference ended up dying from madness. And now… I fear I won’t be far behind.”
Madness.
Su Xuan’s expression turned cold. “Why do you say that?”
The black patterns on Wu Hanshu’s body grew more numerous. Su Xuan stepped forward, intending to transfer spiritual energy to extend his life, but Wu Hanshu raised a hand to stop him.
He remained calm, as if the one approaching death was not himself.
Wu Hanshu, his body stiff, raised his wrist. Using spiritual energy, he conjured a blade and sliced a cut across it.
Blood gushed out, and he produced a broken vine from who-knows-where.
Su Xuan recognized immediately where that vine came from.
The broken vine’s thorns, sensing spiritual energy, burrowed into the wound and ravenously absorbed the blood. The previously withered vine began to show signs of life.
Black qi poured from his spiritual energy in waves.
Su Xuan had recently seen this black qi before. The little fox slightly raised its brow. “What is this?”
Wu Hanshu smiled and said, “The Four Sufferings. This is the Four Sufferings—the true poison of the Four Sufferings.”
Su Xuan’s expression darkened visibly.
He stared intently at the black qi entwined with Wu Hanshu’s leaking spiritual energy. This thing was the Four Sufferings? And yet Sang Dai didn’t have it?
“What exactly are the Four Sufferings?”
Wu Hanshu allowed the vine to continue absorbing his blood, his gaze becoming distant.
“The Four Sufferings… It’s something that drives people mad.”
“…What?”
“As you can see, my spiritual energy contains the Four Sufferings. Not just me—every cultivator except for Sang Dai carries the poison of the Four Sufferings. This toxin corrodes the meridians. The higher one’s cultivation level, the easier it is to succumb to madness.”
Wu Hanshu glanced at Su Xuan, his slightly drunken eyes narrowing. “Beast King, do you know why there hasn’t been a single tribulation-transcending cultivator in the cultivation world for so many years? Why cultivators’ lifespans are growing shorter and shorter?”
“Is it not because the spiritual veins of the Guixu were eroded?”
“But what eroded the spiritual veins of the Guixu?”
Su Xuan was silent.
For so many years, since the spiritual veins of the Guixu were corrupted six thousand years ago, their degradation had made cultivation increasingly difficult. This had been common knowledge for years, but no one had ever explained what caused the spiritual veins to be eroded.
There were countless rumors among the common people, but over time, they became so numerous that the truth could no longer be discerned.
But now… Wu Hanshu’s words forced Su Xuan to consider another possibility.
Su Xuan asked, “Was it the Four Sufferings?”
Wu Hanshu suppressed the black patterns crawling up his neck and nodded with a faint smile. “The Four Sufferings eroded the spiritual veins of the Guixu. Naturally, cultivators who rely on those spiritual veins for their cultivation also carry the poison of the Four Sufferings. This toxin gradually infects the meridians. The longer one cultivates and the higher one’s cultivation level, the more the Four Sufferings will consume them.”
“And then, of course, madness ensues.”
Su Xuan finally understood.
Too many cultivators in the past had perished under heavenly tribulations. Heavenly tribulations severely tested a cultivator’s mind and willpower. The Four Sufferings, eroding one’s mental state, made it far easier to succumb to madness beneath heavenly lightning, ultimately leading to death.
Either one is overwhelmed by the Four Sufferings, losing their sanity entirely, with their mind completely shattered, falling into inner demons and becoming malevolent entities, only to be slain by the Four Realms.
“All of us carry the Four Sufferings within us, except for Sang Dai.” Wu Hanshu murmured, “Only she doesn’t.”
Su Xuan asked in a deep voice, “Why is it that only Dai Dai doesn’t?”
Wu Hanshu shook his head, “I don’t know… That vine loves to consume the Four Sufferings. Whenever any of us use spiritual power, the vine becomes frenzied because of it. Only Sang Dai doesn’t… It has no interest in her at all. Sang Dai’s spiritual power is the only one pure and untainted by the poison of the Four Sufferings.”
“Did that vine also consume the rogue cultivators in the city?”
Wu Hanshu let out a bitter laugh and nodded, “Yes… That vine loves the Four Sufferings. Those rogue cultivators didn’t receive formal teachings, and their cultivation techniques were improper. Their Four Sufferings are the most intense. When I broke through to the Soul Transformation Realm, they came to seek my help with Way of Steadfast Mind to fortify their mind.”
Su Xuan said coldly, “That person helped you break through the Way of Steadfast Mind and had you lure those rogue cultivators into the city so he could kill them?”
Wu Hanshu nodded, “Yes.”
Su Xuan was so angry he laughed, “Wu Hanshu, if you were in the Beast Realm, I would have flayed you long ago.”
Wu Hanshu ignored him and only murmured, “I deserve to die… I truly deserve to die…”
Su Xuan didn’t want to hear Wu Hanshu’s useless rambling anymore and cut straight to the point, “Tell me, what exactly happened at the Heroes Conference back then?”
What exactly happened that caused those cultivators to die one after another over the next few centuries, led to the Heroes Conference’s cancellation, and left the six of them unable to face each other?
Su Xuan instinctively felt that this matter was connected to the inexplicable Four Sufferings.
But Wu Hanshu only tilted his head to look at him and softly said, “Beast King, in three days, it will be the three-hundred-year mark of our pact…”
Su Xuan frowned, sensing that this man was starting to feign madness. He threatened in a stern voice, “Wu Hanshu, I’m asking you a question. If you don’t answer, I really will take action.”
Wu Hanshu laughed, “I can’t tell you, Su Xuan… It’s destiny. None of us can speak of it.”
His gaze shifted to something behind Su Xuan, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his lips.
“Su Xuan, some things are truly just destiny.”
Su Xuan paused for a moment before abruptly spinning around.
The Qingwu Sword flew out, blocking a dense black blade that attacked from behind.
Su Xuan teleported to a distant spot, glaring coldly at the figure in the void.
Wu Hanshu lay on the ground, his head tilted back as he stared at the paintings hanging on the three walls. His expression was dazed, as if he didn’t care about what was happening on Su Xuan’s side.
High above, a figure hovered in the air.
The man wore the same black attire from the snowy wilderness as before, along with an identical mask that obscured his features. His facial features couldn’t be discerned, but the oppressive black aura around him was detestable.
He looked down at Su Xuan with a condescending air, his eyes behind the mask holding a trace of amusement.
Su Xuan gritted his teeth, “It’s you.”
So the murmuring Wu Hanshu had been doing earlier, “He hasn’t come yet,” was referring to this person?
The black-clad youth glanced at Wu Hanshu lying in the stone chamber. “You made a deal with me, all for that pot of flowers?”
Su Xuan’s heart sank, and he instinctively looked toward the stone chamber.
The black markings on Wu Hanshu’s neck were becoming increasingly pronounced, and the deathly aura around him was growing heavier.
He propped himself up and slowly got to his feet, turning to look at the painting hanging in the center of the room.
It was the last painting of the six of them together.
He said, “We once made a three-hundred-year promise. When the flowers bloom again, it will be the day we reunite.”
Su Xuan recalled what Sang Dai had mentioned, as well as the pot of flowers he had seen in Wu Hanshu’s room, planted together in the thirteenth year of Zhengjing.
He asked coldly, “What kind of deal did you make?”
The black-clothed young man raised an eyebrow. “That flower should have withered long ago, but he planted its spiritual consciousness into his own sea of consciousness and nurtured it with his soul power. Yet he is only at the Nascent Soul stage, and the Four Sufferings in his body are on the verge of consuming him. I suppressed his Four Sufferings and helped him step into the Soul Transformation stage, so the flower could bloom again. I was doing a good deed.”
At this point, he paused briefly and added, “Oh, by the way, your flower should be blooming soon. Don’t you want to take a look?”
Wu Hanshu seemed to have been struck at a critical point. He turned abruptly, stumbling as he walked.
“Yes… yes… my flower, our flower…”
He paid no attention to Su Xuan, nor did he seem to care much about Sang Dai’s life or death anymore. Drunk and staggering like a fool, he ran toward the other courtyard, falling a few times along the way.
Wu Hanshu’s guilt toward Sang Dai only extended to revealing the truth about the Four Sufferings to Su Xuan, but it paled in comparison to his attachment to that pot of flowers.
In Wu Hanshu’s eyes, Sang Dai was merely Weisheng Xuan and Bai Yu’s child. Telling Su Xuan these things was more about Sang Dai’s connection to the past. Compared to her life or death, the flowers meant more to him.
Su Xuan’s expression grew increasingly grim.
He raised his gaze to the black-clothed young man above him. His raven-black lashes lifted slightly, and Hellfire ignited behind him.