Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Forbidden Peak (1)

While Gu Zhiheng was still resting and Bai Tangxi and the other three were discussing how to suppress the situation, the forbidden zone at the mountaintop had already erupted into a frenzy.

"Ye Zheng finally made it back. I thought he’d kicked the bucket for good, but turns out he’s tougher than he looks." A small green snake coiled around a tree branch was the first to complain, joining a cacophony of unruly spirits and monsters.

"Little Green, watch your mouth," retorted a white-furred ape sitting atop a boulder. "He’d outlive us all. You’d better save some virtue for yourself."

The giant bird, a golden pheasant, fussed as it smoothed its feathers, "Big guy’s right. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up in the soup pot again. Mind your life, you hear?"

Across the clearing, a handful of other creatures squabbled endlessly, their voices mingling in the night air.

"I think chicken soup tastes pretty good, especially with a few wild mushrooms tossed in. The broth is delicious," said a languid voice from somewhere behind the gathering. No one paid him any mind.

"Snake stew is the real delicacy—full of nourishment," bellowed the winged tiger, showing not a trace of fear toward the green snake.

"If nothing else, let’s cook them all together—a simple dragon-phoenix soup. Now that’s truly nourishing," the languid voice intoned again, still unnoticed.

"One stew a day would do. Meat and soup every day—what a life!" The chatter grew even louder, until finally the crowd sought out the source of the voice.

A man dressed plainly in a long-sleeved shirt and jeans stood there, utterly unremarkable, blending into the background.

"My heavens, is that a ghost?" cried Little Green, tumbling from the tree branch in shock.

Quick as lightning, the man caught the falling bamboo viper in his hands.

"Good to see you all again, hope you’ve been well," he greeted. Yes, it was Gu Zhiheng.

Unable to sleep on the bamboo bed, he’d watched Mo Han and the others chatting in the courtyard and, bored, wandered up the mountain.

He’d encountered these spirits before, back when he was about ten, at the boundary of the ancestral shrine behind his family’s house.

"Hey, kid, you don’t seem to be doing so well," the winged tiger chuckled, though his eyes betrayed a hint of anticipation.

"Not so well, indeed. My abilities are lacking. I came to seek your guidance," Gu Zhiheng replied bluntly, laying his intentions bare.

He knew his weakness—whether on Mistbrow Mountain or outside—and now he was about to set off toward the northwest.

"Alright, alright, we’ll take turns. One each day," the white-furred ape agreed, his excitement barely concealed.

They’d lingered in the mountains for ages, familiar to one another, with nothing new to stir their interest. This was a chance to pass the time, and help Gu Zhiheng in his cultivation—a mutually beneficial arrangement they welcomed gladly.

After agreeing, the group sat in a circle. Little Green somehow returned with two jars of wine.

They drank and chatted. Everyone knew the Ye Zheng before them was not the original, but they understood that he was still Ye Zheng, and one day would be whole again.

It was a pity; back then, he’d misjudged others and destroyed everything he had. Who knew if he’d ever regretted it, or lamented in solitude?

"Drink up! Tonight we won’t leave sober!" With a flourish, Little Green transformed into a graceful woman.

Gu Zhiheng, accustomed to seeing spirits take human form, wasn’t surprised. All the talk of Mistbrow Mountain’s spirits being bound to their original form was nonsense. Look at Little Green—her physical form was minuscule, but now she stood tall in human shape.

One by one, the other spirits also assumed human form, a lively crowd drinking, chatting, and gossiping about Ye Zheng under the night breeze.

"Honestly, Little Green’s wine is excellent—better than anything in the pubs down the mountain," Gu Zhiheng slurred, his intoxication becoming evident.

The others didn’t urge him to stop; among friends, there was no danger. If he drank too much, no one would take advantage.

"Big guy, if he gets drunk, will he go crazy like before?" the winged tiger frowned, recalling unpleasant memories.

The white ape paused, realizing he’d forgotten that detail. Ye Zheng’s tolerance for alcohol had never been good; drunk, he’d become a nuisance.

"Old White, come on, let’s have another drink, brother," Gu Zhiheng called out, completely drunk now.

The white ape sighed—after all these years, Ye Zheng’s drinking hadn’t improved. Maybe inviting him for a drink hadn’t been such a good idea.

"Ye Zheng, that’s enough. Any more and you’ll be out cold," the ape protested. Who was his brother, anyway? He was over two thousand years older.

"Call me Gu Zhiheng. Ye Zheng is Ye Zheng; I am myself!" he insisted. He might resemble Ye Zheng, but he refused to become him.

The white ape, resigned, clinked glasses with Gu Zhiheng, then watched his vacant gaze, sensing something amiss.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Gu Zhiheng was completely unconscious.

...

"No, you are you, and I am me. Who says I’m you?" In his mind, Gu Zhiheng argued with Ye Zheng.

"We are one and the same. Whether you admit it or not, when are you going to agree to merge?" Ye Zheng rubbed his forehead, exasperated with his reincarnation.

"I won’t. Are you after my sister? Trying to use me to get to her?" Gu Zhiheng retorted, unsure why he accused him, but always suspicious of Ye Zheng’s intentions toward Chu Xingran.

"Enough nonsense. Will you agree or not? If not, I’m going back to sleep," Ye Zheng cut him off, unwilling to hear Chu Xingran mentioned again—a love unattainable, too painful.

Next life, no matter what, he would be with her.

"Go ahead and sleep. Just don’t pop up uninvited—I really can’t stand you." Who would want a duplicate of themselves haunting their mind?

Ye Zheng, annoyed, retreated into rest. Gu Zhiheng gradually awoke.

He had no memory of the mental altercation, only a splitting headache, nearly unbearable.

He didn’t dwell on it, assuming it was the aftereffects of heavy drinking.

He had been unconscious for nearly three hours. Little Green and the others sat nearby, chatting quietly; the wine jars had long since been cleared away.

Seeing Gu Zhiheng wake, their expressions barely changed—just a knowing look.

"Awake now? Do you want a ride down, or shall we continue chatting?" Little Green’s voice was gentle and soothing.

But Gu Zhiheng didn’t want to leave just yet. Having come all the way up, it seemed pointless to go back.

"Let’s talk, or perhaps you could take turns advising me," he said. He hadn’t achieved his purpose and wasn’t ready to descend.

At his words, Little Green rose first, indicating it was time to begin.

Their sparring was primitive and brutal—pure hand-to-hand combat.

Each blow landed with a thud, painful to behold.

But Gu Zhiheng endured. Each punch from Little Green struck him, yet he uttered not a single sound.