But Chu Wanning didn’t stop, and didn’t look back.

     He couldn’t turn back.

     He gritted his teeth and tried to endure, but his tears still flowed down his face.

     It was too unfair.

     But even so, what could he do?

     Explain?

     Defend himself?

     Since things had already come to this point, how could he still have the face to tell Mo Ran the truth? Did he have to painstakingly explain himself while Mo Ran resented and mocked him? In addition to being seen as a foolish imitator, did he also want to earn the phrase “dove occupies a magpie's nest” and be seen as taking all the credit?

     He left.

     That night by Naihe Bridge, by the yellow river, the words between master and disciple flowed along the surging river, down the mountains, and into the underworld.

     As for that youth as gentle as a lotus flower, if he had known he would hear such words in the underworld, would he have felt sad about the discord between master and disciple?

     Mo Ran stood alone by the riverbank for a while. He thought that perhaps this was fate. Chu Wanning suspected others, but not him.

     Speaking of which, that day was indeed quite a coincidence. Chu Wanning’s Tianwen had been called out when he encountered a little ghost while patrolling the back of the mountain. After that, he didn’t recall it, and it hung around his waist just like that.

     Tianwen’s golden light had glittered and flowed against Chu Wanning’s white robes. The willow vine that could have trapped and strangled the future Emperor Taxian-Jun shone brightly at his side.

     But Chu Wanning did not remove it from his waist, did not use it to interrogate him.

     Mo Ran escaped Tianwen and slowly left alone. He walked deep into the swaying bamboo forest, walked into the thickest part of the night, and was finally completely swallowed by the darkness.

     From then on, he began to secretly refine the chess pieces. Two, four, ten—

     More and more.

     He planted them one by one into the bodies of Sisheng Peak’s disciples, making them his eyes and ears, claws and teeth, his hidden arrows.

     After the initial joy, Mo Ran gradually became irritable and gloomy. He became more and more vicious, more and more unsatisfied.

     It was too slow.

     He felt that it wasn’t enough.

     He was afraid that Chu Wanning would notice something, so he didn’t dare to expend all of his spiritual energy on the Zhenlong chess pieces like he did the first time. He only did one chess piece at a time, leaving half of his energy behind.

     He was no longer tense and hostile, with daggers drawn. Instead, he finally retracted his sharp claws and returned to follow Chu Wanning in his cultivation. He thought that if Chu Wanning could help him improve his cultivation in the shortest time possible, laying down the bricks for his first step towards treading on the bones of the mortal world, then why not?

     On this day, he had trained too hard, and was completely drained. He accidentally lost control of himself from the slender treetops and fell straight down.

     In a split second, Chu Wanning’s white robes flashed past, and he held Mo Ran in his arms as they fell together. He wasn’t able to free his hands to open a barrier, and was crushed by Mo Ran, groaning in pain.

     When Mo Ran opened his eyes, he saw that Chu Wanning’s hand was injured, a bloody gash that tore his flesh.

     Mo Ran stared at the wound, his heart cruel and satisfied. At this point, his heart and mind were already beginning to distort. He rarely even felt much gratitude or guilt, and only felt that the blood was really beautiful; why not a little more?

     But he knew that it wasn’t the right time yet. He couldn’t reveal his sinister face under the hood just yet. So, he helped clean Chu Wanning’s wound and bandaged it for him.

     Neither of them spoke, each with their own thoughts. The clean white gauze was wrapped carefully.

     Finally, Mo Ran said meaningfully, “Thank you, Shizun.”

     This sudden and unexpected “thank you,” took Chu Wanning by surprise, and he lifted his eyes to look at Mo Ran’s face. The sun shone down on Mo Ran’s face, his skin illuminated by the glow.

     At that time, Mo Ran was actually a little curious to know what Chu Wanning thought of this show of thanks.

     Was the prodigal son finally turning over a new leaf?

     Was he finally starting to make peace?

     But Chu Wanning didn’t say anything. He only lowered his lashes and pulled down his sleeve.

     The wind blew, and the sun shone brightly.

     In his previous life, he had never been able to see through his Shizun, just as his Shizun had also misunderstood him.

     After that, Mo Ran’s powers grew stronger and stronger, until he had astonishing ability. Now, the number of chess pieces he could refine using only half of his spiritual energy had increased from one, to two, and then to four.

     But it still wasn’t enough.

     What he wanted was a million-strong army, a powerful force that could take down Sisheng Peak in one fell swoop and trample Chu Wanning beneath his feet.

     Mo Ran was not good with calculations. The soon-to-be Emperor Taxian-Jun clutched an abacus as he sat in front of the table, trying to calculate the beads.

     When Xue Meng came to see him, he just happened to see the scene, and asked curiously, “Hey, what are you doing?”

     “Calculating.”

     “Calculating what?”

     Mo Ran paused for a moment, his eyes dark. Then, he smiled and said, “Guess.”

     “I can’t guess.” Xue Meng walked over and picked up the book in front of him, looking at it carefully. As he read, he mumbled, “One… three hundred and sixty-five days… three hundred and sixty-five days… four… three hundred and sixty-five days… What kind of nonsense is this?”

     “I want to buy candy,” Mo Ran said calmly.

     “Candy?”

     “One piece of the Rising Moon Temple’s best candy costs one copper coin. If you save one copper coin a day, you can buy three hundred and sixty-five candies in three hundred and sixty-five days. If you save four copper coins every day, that would be…” He lowered his head, counted with his fingers, but couldn’t figure it out. He shook his head and tried again, “Just a thousand—”

     Xue Meng was better at calculations, and said sharply, “1,460 candies.”

     Mo Ran raised his head, and after a moment of silence, he said charmingly, “You’re really fast.”

     Xue Meng, who was rarely praised by him, stared blankly for a moment, then laughed, “That’s not true. After all, I’ve been helping Mother with medicine since I was young.”

     Mo Ran pondered for a second, then laughed, “I can’t do the math right. Why don’t you do me a favor and finish these calculations for me?”

     So he nodded, pulled out a chair, and sat down beside Mo Ran, “Come on, tell me.”

     Mo Ran said warmly, “For ten pieces a day, how much can you save in a year?”

     “3,650. I didn’t even have to count that one. It’s too easy.”

     Mo Ran sighed and said, “Add a little more, then. Fifteen…” But after thinking about it, he felt that it was beyond his limit to make fifteen chess pieces a day, so he corrected himself, “Twelve pieces a day. How much?”

     “Four thousand… 4,380.”

     “I want 5,000 pieces. How many more days do I need to wait?”

     “You still have to…” Xue Meng scratched his head, getting a little overwhelmed, so he asked, “Why do you need so much candy? It’s not like you can eat it all.”

     Mo Ran lowered his head, hiding the sinister glint in his eyes, “Next year, Sisheng Peak will have been a sect for thirty whole years. I want to give everyone a piece of candy to eat, so I have to save from today onwards.”

     Xue Meng was bewildered, “You actually have such thoughts…”

     “Yes.” Mo Ran smiled, “Are you surprised? There will be one for you too.”

     “I don’t need it.” Xue Meng waved his hand, “I don’t need your mouthful of candy. Come on, I’ll help you calculate. Let’s see how long you’ll need to save before you can buy five thousand pieces of candy.”

     As he spoke, he took the abacus and, against the backdrop of the flowering trees by the window, earnestly helped Mo Ran calculate. Mo Ran rested his chin on his hand, his eyes shining. After a while, he chuckled and said, “Many thanks.”

     Xue Meng snorted. He was very focused on calculating, and didn’t pay much attention to him.

     In Mo Ran’s eyes, there were only those black and white beads. One by one, they were like chess pieces, as they piled up one after another, increasing little by little.

     At that time, Xue Meng probably would never have imagined that what he was calculating wasn’t candy at all, but human lives, human lives that would overturn Sisheng Peak.

     Nor would he have known that it was probably this moment by the window that vaguely stirred the last trace of goodness in Mo Ran’s heart. In the end, Mo Ran didn’t give him a share of those five thousand black chess pieces in consideration of their old friendship.

     “It’ll take that long?” Looking at the number Xue Meng had written down, Mo Ran shook his head, “That’s too long.”

     “Why don’t I lend you some money?” Xue Meng asked.

     Mo Ran smiled, “There’s no need.”

     After Xue Meng left, he pondered, flipping through a few scrolls, and gradually came up with a plan. This plan became the prototype for the Shared-Heart Formation that Emperor Taxian-Jun later created.

     That night, Mo Ran refined ten chess pieces. Those chess pieces were all incomplete, and couldn’t be used to the fullest extent to manipulate the living; they couldn’t even control relatively strong corpses.

     He took these ten chess pieces and went down the mountain to Wuchang Town, humming a little tune until he reached the outskirts of the town: The Crane Returns to the Slope.

     When people die, they ride the crane to return to the nine heavens. This was a beautiful and simple illusion of mortals. To put it bluntly, this hillside was a graveyard. Whoever died in Wuchang Town would be dragged to this hill to be buried. This was the town’s burial ground.

     Mo Ran walked between the rows of forested graves without delay, glancing at the names on the tombstones.

     Soon, he stopped in front of a new grave with clear writing, and fresh fruits and steamed buns in front of it. He raised his hand and clenched his fingers tightly in the air. The seal cracked open with a boom, revealing a simple coffin in the gravel.

     Because of some childhood experience, Mo Ran wasn’t afraid of corpses at all, and had no respect for them. He jumped down from the raised mound, summoned Bu’gui, and used all of his strength to pry open the coffin nails before kicking open the thin lid.

     The moonlight shone on the corpse’s face. Mo Ran leaned over and looked at the body as if he was measuring the quality of pork. It was an old man, newly buried, with a shroud wrapped around his shriveled face and sunken cheeks.

     Because of the poor conditions of the burial environment and the lack of any money to preserve the body, the coffin was filled with a strong stench. Some of the flesh had already begun to rot and produce maggots.

     Mo Ran frowned and endured the stench. He neatly put on metal gloves and grabbed the old man by the neck, pulling him out of the coffin. The old man’s head drooped stiffly. Mo Ran’s eyes were ice-cold. With a flash of light in his hand, he had already punched the Zhenlong chess piece into the old man’s chest.

     “Good boy, good boy.” Mo Ran seemed to caress the old man’s face affectionately, then suddenly slapped it, smiling, “What are you so listless for? Stand up straight, my precious little grandson.”

     Although the incomplete black chess piece couldn’t control a strong corpse, it was still more than enough to control an old man whose legs were as thin as sticks.

     The corpse’s body began to move. A pair of tightly shut eyes suddenly opened, revealing a set of gray-ish pupils.

     Mo Ran asked, “What’s your name?”

     “My name is not up to me.”

     “Where are you?”

     “My location is not up to me.”

     “What day is it?”

     “The time is not up to me.”

     Mo Ran narrowed his eyes, weighing the remaining nine incomplete black pieces in his hand. Sure enough… if it was only to control a corpse at this level, he wouldn’t need to expend so much spiritual energy to create such pure black chess pieces. He grinned, revealing his deep dimples and an extremely handsome smile.

     Slowly, he asked the last question, “What do you want?”

     The old man said in a hoarse voice, “I want to be the king’s chess piece. Even if I must break my body and bones, I will not hesitate.”

     Mo Ran laughed out loud, pleased with the result. He then used the remaining black chess pieces to make nine more chess piece corpses. He picked out fresh corpses that had just been buried. All of these at least still had intact flesh that hadn’t been eaten away yet.

     These corpses were old, weak, sick, and disabled, falling over when the wind blew. They didn’t have any strength at all. But when Mo Ran looked at them, his eyes glinted with a crazed and sinister light.

     He took ten small boxes from his qiankun bag and opened one of them. There were two small blood-red worms curled up inside. The male and female worms were biting each other’s tails, unwilling to part.

     “Okay, I’ve had enough fun. I’ll be troubling the two of you to stop now. It’s time for you to be of use to me.” As Mo Ran spoke lazily, he flicked his finger to brush the two worms away from each other. He took out the male worm and said to the first old man he had turned into a chess piece, “Old man, please open your mouth.”

     The old man obediently opened his mouth, revealing a rotten tongue. Mo Ran threw the male worm into his open mouth and ordered, “Eat it.”

     There was no resistance, no hesitation.

     The corpse obediently ate the gu worm into its stomach.

     Mo Ran followed the same pattern and fed all of the male worms from the boxes into the mouths of the corpses. Then, he said, “Alright, go lay back down and rest.”

     The next day, Mo Ran refined another ten black chess pieces, which were also incomplete and didn’t consume too much spiritual energy. After he finished, he attached all of the female gu worms to the chess pieces. Then, he quietly placed them into the bodies of some low-level disciples.

     At first, those disciples only felt a slight itch on their backs, but it was nothing special. Mo Ran was in no hurry as he waited—

     He waited for the female gu worms to lay eggs, then leave the larvae in the hearts of these disciples—larvae that corresponded with the male gu worms.

     In this way, the two unrelated chess pieces, through the adult and larvae gu worms, became corresponding parent-child puppets.

     It was like flying a kite. The weak corpses became the string of the kite, manipulated by Mo Ran. And the peak disciples at the other end became true Zhenlong black chess pieces.

     Mo Ran only needed to give the order to the corpse that hid the adult gu worm, and the disciple corpse that hid the corresponding child gu worm would do the exact same thing.

     This was the Shared-Heart Formation.

     This ultimate technique had been created by Mo Ran himself. Before him, those who had come into contact with the Zhenlong Chess Formation were all great zongshi. But even though they didn't lack spiritual power, they weren’t insane enough to want to make tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands of Zhenlong chess pieces, so they didn’t think of such a method.

     At that time Mo Ran, who was obsessed with the evil arts, didn’t realize that he had already done something terrible that no one in the cultivation world had ever done for the past tens of thousands of years—

     Turning an evil technique that could destroy the heavens and earth into something that anyone could use.

     Anyone could do it.

     “Ge!”

     Suddenly, a harsh shout sounded by his ear.

     Mo Ran suddenly snapped back to his senses as a blood-red light flashed before his eyes.

     The evil phoenix spirit that was buried in the core of Mount Huang had produced even more willow vines than before, fiercely slashing forward. The phoenix was originally a beast that could fly at shockingly high speeds, so the vines were extremely fast. Mo Ran was unable to dodge in time, and his shoulder was suddenly cut open, blood spewing in an instant.

     Xue Meng shouted, “Are you okay?!”

     “Don’t come over here!” Mo Ran gasped for breath. His eyes were cold as he stared at the tentacle-like vine on the ground that was ready to pounce at any moment for a second wave of attacks. He stopped Xue Meng sternly, “Quick, go to Shizun! Tell him to stop! Tell everyone to stop!”

     His blood dripped down, and he gripped the heart and chess piece in his hand tightly. His mind spun rapidly, as millions of thoughts surged in his mind.

     There was nothing missing with this Shared-Heart Formation. In fact, it was even better than what he used in his previous life. However, no matter how much improvement there was, the basic rules were the same—only by maintaining the body of the parent on one side, could the child on the other side unleash its power.

     Mo Ran held the Zhenlong chess piece in his hand. His entire body was trembling, not because of the pain in his shoulder, but because of the chilling fear that spread from the soles of his feet.

     There was no doubt that someone else had been reborn.

     Then, did that reborn person know that he was also a ghost who had been reborn? If he knew, then…

     A chill went down his spine as Mo Ran suddenly fell into despair. Emperor Taxian-Jun’s pale face seemed to appear before his eyes, the tassels of the crown sitting on his head rustling as a sinister grin appeared on his face. He was high and mighty, sitting on the dragon throne, his tone cold and mocking as he spoke.

     “Mo-zongshi, run. Where can you run to?”

     The phantom visions rose up like a tide, a tidal wave of all the people he had killed in his previous life.

     They were all the debts he owed in his previous life.

     He saw a bloodied Shi Mei, a pale Chu Wanning, a hanged woman dragging three feet of white silk, a man with his intestines all over the floor…

     They were all here to take his life.

     “Sooner or later, you won’t be able to escape.”

     “Someone already knows what kind of filthy soul you have inside your body. You will never be able to reincarnate.”

     Mo Ran closed his eyes.

     If the person behind the scenes really knew that he was reborn, if they revealed all of his past… what would he do?

     He didn’t dare to think about it anymore.