Daishan Turns The Wind Chapter 6

The Painter Case (6)

Someone was over there.

Feng Yuluo immediately quickened his pace to round the corner, but halfway there, a hand clamped onto him.

The Patriarch had lived too long a good life on the mountain and was unaccustomed to such sudden shocks. He was nearly scared out of his wits. After a moment, he recognized Shan Wuzhou and cursed inwardly, not just because the boy was fast, but because he was also completely silent.

Shan Wuzhou’s voice was hoarse in his ear: “Patriarch, why didn’t you answer me?”

Feng Yuluo could hear the tremor in his voice.

Feng Yuluo was momentarily confused. He slowly looked over. In the dim candlelight, Shan Wuzhou’s eyes were somewhat dark and intense. Feng Yuluo stammered, “Were you looking at the painting in the corner just now?”

Shan Wuzhou didn’t answer, only stared at him seriously. Then his gaze softened, and he released him.

Feng Yuluo understood. It seemed this boy had also seen the illusion.

Without further words, the two walked toward the screen.

There was no one behind it.

The screen was eight feet tall, consisting of nine folding panels. Human figures were painted on the translucent surface, making it look from a distance as if people were standing there.

The nine figures were all in frantic poses, their faces filled with terror.

What made one’s scalp crawl was that these nine people were moving, desperately clawing at the screen surface, as if trying to climb out.

Feng Yuluo shivered.

Shan Wuzhou was unperturbed, his gaze fixed on the ninth panel. The man painted there was someone they had just seen.

It was Zhao Decai.

Shan Wuzhou reached out to touch the screen surface. It was silk. He withdrew his hand, frowning slightly.

What was wrong? Feng Yuluo was puzzled and reached out to touch it too, but Shan Wuzhou stopped him.

“Patriarch, don’t touch it. There are people inside.”

It wasn’t just a painting; the nine murderers were genuinely trapped inside.

Judging by their struggle, the world within the painting must be anything but simple. Feng Yuluo sharply noticed blood seeping from one of the figures’ fingers.

Was Zhao Zisheng tormenting them?

Shan Wuzhou watched from the side, remaining vigilant of their surroundings.

Feng Yuluo thought for a moment and asked Shan Wuzhou what he had seen earlier.

Shan Wuzhou’s body stiffened.

How strange. Did the most talented child of Feng Mountain, the one with the highest cultivation and superb swordsmanship, also have something he feared?

Or had the guidance on Feng Mountain been inadequate, failing to notice his difficulties? Feng Yuluo felt anxious and couldn’t help but press him.

Shan Wuzhou was hesitant, but seeing his Patriarch’s worried expression warmed him. The tight string in his heart loosened, and his voice was low and slow: “I saw the Patriarch tell me goodbye forever, and then enter the painting.”

“…” Feng Yuluo groaned inwardly. The accident during his heavenly tribulation had truly left this boy traumatized.

“Hiss.” The sharp sound of fingernails tearing the canvas made both men frown simultaneously.

Inside the screen, the situation was changing. Distorted faces, hideous and terrifying, were being pulled out of shape by the power within the painting. Their eyes were squeezed, radiating malicious, cold light.

Their limbs strained, moving forward wretchedly, creating an overwhelming sense of suffocation.

Meanwhile, the black Datura flowers on the ground began to sprout from the paper, climbing up the wall, devouring the red color. Where the paper tore, it was as if someone was silently screaming.

As the wind stirred and the candlelight flickered, Feng Yuluo sensed a powerful emotion beyond desperate revenge.

Feng Yuluo looked at the person on the first panel, Shen Yun. Zhao Decai had confessed that Shen Yun was the mastermind and chief culprit behind these cases.

Shan Wuzhou noticed the nine people struggling even harder. Their faces showed pain, pressed against the screen, and their clothes were stained with blood.

They must be suffering more severe injuries.

Feng Yuluo understood and whispered, “Zhao Zisheng isn’t willing to come out. She insists on taking revenge with her own hands. It’s not just because they might get away with it by bribing officials, but also because of her hatred for Shen Yun, and her guilt towards Yan Xin. She never imagined that her own fiancé was the biggest instigator in Yan Xin’s death.”

Shan Wuzhou instantly understood. His gaze towards his Patriarch was complex. After all, when the Patriarch failed his tribulation, he had also blamed himself, thinking he had distracted the Patriarch.

Feng Yuluo brushed his hand over the screen, pressing down about four inches from the edge, and told Shan Wuzhou to inject a protective talisman there.

Though confused, Shan Wuzhou complied. After placing talismans on all nine people, he asked, “Are you afraid Zhao Zisheng will kill them?”

“Something like that. With the talismans protecting their lives, Zhao Zisheng can let loose and beat them up.”

With that, Feng Yuluo shouted into the air: “Little Zhao, did you hear that? They have talismans! Beat them hard, take your revenge!”

“…”

The black Datura flowers devoured everything frantically.

The entire room darkened.

A figure stepped out of the shadows, standing calmly amidst the frenzied, strangling flowers.

Zhao Zisheng said indifferently, “I thought you would stop me.”

“No. We wanted to find a better solution, but if you feel this is better, then proceed your way.”

Zhao Zisheng moved closer. Feng Yuluo saw a black butterfly on her right shoulder. As its wings opened and closed, a shimmering light flashed.

That was a clone created by Yuanbao. However, now was not the time to catch it.

Shan Wuzhou also stared for a moment, sensing the demonic energy, and had a rough idea of what was happening.

Feng Yuluo asked softly, “Do you know what Shen Yun did?”

Zhao Zisheng approached the screen, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. When she spoke, her tone was deeply sorrowful.

“So, it was all about our physiognomy.” She gave three bitter laughs. “What is this? Taking our good fortune and giving it to others, all under the guise of engagement and love? It wasn’t enough to just steal our luck; they had to kill us too? Eat our flesh and drink our blood? Suck the marrow from our bones?”

Feng Yuluo suddenly didn’t know what to say. Shan Wuzhou declared sternly, “Every wrong has its source, and every debt its debtor. We will make them pay the price!”

Zhao Zisheng pointed to the flower on the wall, which still had a tiny bit of red left. “The thing pressed into the grave, a spot of black in the center, wrapped in a large patch of red. This was Shen Yun’s intention. The red Datura represents the willingness to sacrifice one’s life for you. See? We were loved, so even in death, they wanted to instill the idea in us not to resent or seek revenge.”

Feng Yuluo pondered the meaning of the black and red flowers and said incredulously, “Can these bastards get any more shameless?”

But Zhao Zisheng was set on revenge. The red flower on the wall was reduced to only the very top.

But soon, Shan Wuzhou’s expression darkened. Feng Yuluo also felt it—black energy surged from nowhere, tearing several gashes in their clothes.

Then the painting paper fluttered and was sliced into shreds. Flower remnants and withered leaves drifted down. The wall looked as if it had been subjected to a thousand cuts, leaving deep grooves. Blood gushed from the cuts, staining everything crimson.

Strangely, Feng Yuluo saw cutting wounds appear on Zhao Zisheng’s body as well.

He lunged forward, trying to block the black energy, looking around wildly. Was there another threat here?

Two forces were clashing. Shan Wuzhou couldn’t distinguish which side was which for the moment. Fearing he might hurt Zhao Zisheng, his movements were hesitant.

Zhao Zisheng suddenly curled up, under threat, struggling to resist.

In Zhao Zisheng’s territory, another force was actually able to overpower her. Feng Yuluo felt an inexplicable discomfort.

Usually, such a place was a safe haven built by the person themselves, the hardest place for outside influence to penetrate. But this threat could clash and fight within her self-protection, which was truly terrifying.

How did it get in?

Worried about Zhao Zisheng and Shan Wuzhou, his mind was in chaos when he suddenly remembered the nine people.

The screen occasionally bulged. The people inside were struggling so hard they were close to breaking out.

“…”

Feng Yuluo opened his mouth, realizing something was wrong. Could it be that these nine people were fighting Zhao Zisheng’s consciousness?

The source of the clashing power was these nine people… If so, it made sense. Trapped as they were, even though they were guilty, they wouldn’t admit it. They naturally struggled to get out, which inevitably meant fighting Zhao Zisheng’s will!

The desperate struggle born of the instinct for survival was extraordinary. That was why Zhao Zisheng was gradually failing to contain them.

Feng Yuluo quickly grabbed Zhao Zisheng, urging anxiously, “If this continues, you’ll be severely injured! We already have the evidence; we can send them in!”

Zhao Zisheng was unwilling to give up.

But the powerful force sweeping through the air also showed that she had not compromised or surrendered; she was still resisting.

These nine people were murderers! They specifically sought out women with prosperous physiognomies, married them for a few months, and still ruthlessly killed them, even using evil objects to suppress and imprison their souls. They were the worst kind of villains.

Their malevolence was heavy. While they were initially terrified in the illusion, over time, their true nature gained the upper hand, and they resorted to violence again.

Especially the fiancé, Shen Yun, who had killed two confidantes. His audacity surged, and he desperately tried to break free.

The illusionary cage was Zhao Zisheng’s consciousness. The violence of the nine people struggling to escape, their malicious eyes, and their cursing words were constantly annihilating Zhao Zisheng.

Shan Wuzhou shouted, “Patriarch, look!” He pointed at the screen, startling Feng Yuluo.

A strong man’s finger had already squeezed out half an inch.

Zhao Zisheng instantly took a step back.

Suddenly, with a tearing sound, the silk screen ripped. A bloody hand reached out.

Immediately after, half a face squeezed out. One eye rolled, overflowing with malice, and locked onto Zhao Zisheng.

Shen Yun.

His usual cultured appearance was completely gone. The hand flailed, and the half-face began to curse, threatening to kill her.

Feng Yuluo turned sideways to block the screen.

Zhao Zisheng had already seen it. Despite her terror, she still mobilized her consciousness to fight back.

Feng Yuluo shouted, “Little Zhao, consciousness annihilation is too difficult! Let’s go out and talk!”

Zhao Zisheng’s eyes were red: “What about Yan Xin’s revenge? Am I not going to take it? I want them to suffer endless torment!”

“They are murderers, and their malevolence is too heavy. You are not as vicious as them. You can’t win this fight.”

“Why can’t I win!” Driven by Sun Zhengmo, the black Datura tried to swallow the last bit of red. In the struggle, she was losing her true nature. “I can be vicious too! I will slice them into a thousand pieces!”

The screen tore further. Seven or eight hands reached out simultaneously, bloody and lacerated, but the released killing intent also cut Zhao Zisheng into pieces.

Ten thousand strands of black energy raged.

The nine men’s faces were contorted in a frenzy.

Screams, hatred, curses, death threats!

These were true murderers. Their consciousness was filled with ruthlessness, schemes, and vicious malice. The nine villains combined, fighting for survival, unleashed an overwhelming killing aura!

Shan Wuzhou blocked a portion, but the effect was minimal.

Sun Zhengmo was knocked back by the black energy, holding a handful of broken flowers, watching everything in despair.

The butterfly on her shoulder was also fading. It was only a clone, not strong in magic. If Zhao Zisheng hadn’t been so desperate for revenge, it might not have lasted this long.

But she had reached her limit. She couldn’t hold on.

Could she not avenge Yan Xin?

But why? Why, exactly?

Zhao Zisheng found a surge of vitality in her despair. She grabbed the black Datura, pressed one hand onto the screen, injecting her life force into her hatred for one final, all-out attack within the painting, determined to kill the nine murderers.

Her eyes were bloodshot, and her hands were bleeding profusely, but she refused to let go.

Feng Yuluo waved his hand. He and Shan Wuzhou simply watched her, not stopping her, letting her have this final outburst.

“Bang!” The screen shattered.

Zhao Zisheng was violently thrown to the ground.

The nine people, covered in blood and grime, roared and lunged forward.

Feng Yuluo helped the nearly exhausted Zhao Zisheng up, comforting her, “It’s alright, don’t be discouraged. This is a murderer’s consciousness; naturally, you couldn’t withstand it, and neither could we. But there are other ways. Let’s get out first. Trust me!”

Zhao Zisheng stiffly turned her head to look at him. She saw that they had also been cut by the black energy and knew that if they hadn’t been worried about hurting her, they could have overturned the illusion long ago. She apologized, suppressed her grief, and let them out.

After leaving the consciousness battle, the external injuries on their bodies disappeared.

Outside was the cemetery. As soon as the nine men emerged, Shan Wuzhou drew a large circle around them.

Feng Yuluo handed Zhao Zisheng and Shan Wuzhou each a large stick. He swung his to get a feel for it and said, “Who said anything about fighting with murderous consciousness? We’re fighting with sticks.”

Zhao Zisheng held the stick, momentarily bewildered.

Until Shen Yun roared, “Zhao Zisheng, how dare you treat me like this!”

Second Master Wang cursed loudly, “You must be a demon! Using evil magic! What are you doing? Be careful, the Infant Immortal will come and kill you!”

The others were also muttering and questioning what was happening.

They were arrogant and overbearing.

In the illusion, although they were tormented at first, they later gained the upper hand through their malice and murderous ruthlessness, suppressing Zhao Zisheng. Their morale was already high, and seeing only three people opposite their nine, they were completely fearless.

Only Zhao Decai, who knew the opponents’ strength, remained silent, his eyes darting around for an escape route.

Zhao Zisheng regained her clarity. Looking at the unrepentant group, she tightened her grip on the stick.

Feng Yuluo said, “Hit them hard. We’ll cover you.”

The scene quickly descended into chaos.

In a fight, who could beat the sword genius Shan Wuzhou? He swung his stick left and right, sending six of the previously arrogant men scrambling for cover.

Zhao Zisheng charged straight for Second Master Wang. She had been able to beat him with a stick before, and now she was completely unrestrained, slamming the stick hard against his head and back!

Yan Xin, the kind and sincere Yan Xin, the Yan Xin who should have had a beautiful life, was destroyed by Second Master Wang.

Zhao Zisheng kicked him to the ground and mercilessly broke both his arms, smashing the two dirty hands that had pushed Yan Xin into the water!

“You should die! You deserve a terrible death! You will never be able to use these hands again!”

Second Master Wang howled.

Shen Yun, seeing the situation was bad, chased after Zhao Decai, who was already running away. Feng Yuluo herded him back with his stick like a duck, delivering him right under Zhao Zisheng’s stick.

Zhao Zisheng looked at Shen Yun, who had been gentle and kind when proposing marriage, her fiancé who had spoken so many understanding words. Grief and hatred welled up in her heart.

This sanctimonious man was the source of all the tragedy, the true evil spirit who plotted to steal lives and fortune!

She would repay him a hundredfold!

Shan Wuzhou carefully observed the situation. In a moment of generous kindness, he gave Shen Yun, Second Master Wang, and Zhao Decai three precious protective talismans each, saving their lives three times, allowing them to die and come back to life three times.

Compassion was a necessary trait for disciples trained on Feng Mountain.

“You mean that these murderers, knowing that the Infant Immortal rumor was exposed and witnesses and evidence were found, started fighting among themselves due to internal strife, and finally fell into a pit, resulting in their bruised faces, broken ribs, and inability to stand?”

In the courtroom, the Prefect presided, and the County Magistrate questioned.

The nine people lying on the ground were barely alive, groaning.

Zhao Zisheng’s hands were red from the stick, and she replied with indignation, “Yes, that’s exactly what happened.”

Feng Yuluo and Shan Wuzhou stood beside her, nodding along.

They felt that Zhao Zisheng had struck with appropriate restraint and thoughtfulness, leaving each person one functional finger for signing the confession.

But murderers were murderers. Even in this state, with all the human and material evidence present, the nine men still cried injustice and refused to admit guilt.

The jailers, excited after learning the details of the case, carefully selected torture instruments and used them on the nine men in rotation. They were always diligent and serious in their work.

After several rounds, the men signed and confessed to their crimes.

Feng Yuluo and the others went to the cemetery, collected all the red bricks, including those from the graves of the two girls killed by Shen Yun, totaling eight, and destroyed them all.

With the Infant Immortal rumor dispelled, these innocent people could be taken home by their families and reburied.

Finally, Zhao Zisheng sat alone by Yan Xin’s grave for a long time.

At the dock, Feng Yuluo and Old Li were carrying sacks of rice. Feng Yuluo hadn’t worked for two days due to the investigation. He still had some time in the afternoon, so he carried as many sacks as he could. This was partly to earn money for food and partly to clear his mind.

The Infant Immortal case had exhausted Feng Yuluo mentally and physically; he was truly angry.

Shan Wuzhou couldn’t bear to see him doing such hard labor, but the Patriarch waved him off, a cloth draped over his shoulder, and with a heave-ho, he carried six sacks of rice back and forth in one breath.

Old Li was even faster than him.

Shan Wuzhou watched, stunned. After a moment, he realized what was happening and used magic to lighten the Patriarch’s burden. Feng Yuluo felt a sudden lightness on his shoulder and nearly stumbled, feeling both soft-hearted and annoyed.

After steadying himself, he feigned confusion, then looked at Shan Wuzhou as if realizing something. Shan Wuzhou looked innocent, his eyes full of concern, asking if he should make it even lighter.

Feng Yuluo suppressed the urge to throw his shoe at the boy’s face, shaking his head and saying no, his expression extremely serious.

Shan Wuzhou immediately stood straight. Memories of past reprimands surfaced, and he quickly withdrew the magic, realizing belatedly that it was unfair to others.

Only when the serious Patriarch smiled magnanimously did he relax. He spun around a few times and went to buy two cans of sweet water for them to drink.

Old Li finished his drink and praised the boy for being so good.

Feng Yuluo felt quite pleased hearing that.

The afternoon passed quickly. They finished work and exchanged their labor for money. They bought some flatbreads and pickles from a nearby stall and prepared to head back.

Shan Wuzhou followed him to the small thatched hut outside the city.

Old Li rubbed his shoulder, heading to boil water. Shan Wuzhou saw this and knew Old Li’s shoulder was hurting. Thinking that Feng Yuluo had carried over a hundred sacks of rice, he must also be sore, so he offered to examine the Patriarch.

Feng Yuluo was so flustered he desperately covered himself.

Ever since he learned about that scoundrel’s intentions, he had been filled with self-reproach, tying nine knots in his trousers belt overnight, each a dead knot. Yet, this boy wanted to strip off his shirt.

He clearly lacked the proper discipline of the stick.

Feng Yuluo said he and Old Li could just apply medicine to each other.

Shan Wuzhou simply pulled Old Li over and examined both of them together.

Old Li was a rough man. They were all men, so he wasn’t shy. He immediately took off his shirt, revealing red swelling on his shoulders. Feng Yuluo gasped in shock and pity, then reluctantly began to untie his own clothes.

Feeling extremely awkward and uncomfortable, he had a flash of inspiration: “Disciple, didn’t you learn immortal arts? Can’t immortals cure all ailments with a wave of the hand? This little swelling should be nothing for you, right?”

Shan Wuzhou applied the medicine to Old Li’s shoulder, rubbing it in, and said flatly, “Forgive me, Patriarch. I studied the Way of the Sword; I did not learn healing arts.”

The lying brat! What can’t this boy do? You bastard, trying to fool your Patriarch!

Feng Yuluo was furious, but if he showed suspicion, Shan Wuzhou could still deny it, but his own secret would likely be exposed.

He could only swallow his bitterness.

Steeling his heart, he stripped off his shirt, closed his eyes, and played dead.

Shan Wuzhou saw that the skin was rubbed raw, like a ripe red peach. While his heart ached, his face flushed slightly. He silently chanted the Purity Mantra, gently applied the medicine, and rubbed it in with his palm.

The medicinal oil gradually grew hot, and sticking to the skin felt like a burning sensation. Shan Wuzhou turned his head to look into the darkness, not daring to look at him any further.

Feng Yuluo stared at the ground. When the movement on his shoulder finally stopped, Feng Yuluo feigned a carefree attitude, as if it were nothing, put his clothes back on, nearly grinding his teeth to dust.

Shan Wuzhou felt as if he had crawled out of hell and quickly went to wash his hands.

He washed them three times, still feeling the heat in his palms, so Shan Wuzhou simply washed his face. When he returned, he found Feng Yuluo squatting on the ground digging a hole, with a white porcelain jar beside him.

Feng Yuluo watched from a distance, thinking the boy looked so endearing in his awkwardness. He decided to go over and break the tension with a joke.

Feng Yuluo quickly seized the topic: “What a beautiful jar. Are you pickling some salted vegetables?”

Shan Wuzhou glanced at him: “I collected some dust. I originally thought it was… ashes.”

Feng Yuluo choked. Oh, it was his ashes.

His earlobes felt a little itchy. He cursed himself for being such a fool and stammered, “It’s a shame to bury it. Why don’t you dump the dirt and keep the jar for pickling vegetables?”

Shan Wuzhou looked at him again.

Later that night, Feng Yuluo realized the matter wasn’t over.

A straw mat was laid out beside the bed, and Shan Wuzhou stood there awkwardly.

What?!!!

Feng Yuluo felt as if he had been stuffed inside a bronze bell and someone was hammering it hard from the outside, making his head ache intensely.

Shan Wuzhou had been staying at an inn before. Since he had followed him here, it wouldn’t be right to kick him out in the middle of the night.

Originally, Old Li’s room was larger, and Feng Yuluo had thought of letting him sleep on the floor there. But since they weren’t close, and the boy was from a proper sect, and they hadn’t seen each other for so long, they should have a heart-to-heart talk. So, he had helped move the mat and spread it beside Feng Yuluo’s bed.

He was a good man, Old Li. Feng Yuluo cried inwardly: “Well, why don’t you sleep on the bed? I’ll take the floor.”

Shan Wuzhou bowed respectfully: “I dare not. Please, Patriarch, rest well.”