Chapter Sixty-Two: Mother, None of Their Flavors Can Compare to Yours

“If, at that moment, if I truly hadn’t pulled through, perhaps it would have been an entirely different story.”

Within the bamboo forest, Lin He recounted another tale to his so-called cousin—a story utterly beyond Lin Tao’s imagination, a story worlds apart from his own.

“So, you lost your mind back then,” Lin Tao murmured, his gaze dull as he looked upon the man before him, realizing he had never truly seen through him.

“Lost my mind? Perhaps. Throughout that ordeal, I despaired again and again, was gripped by fear over and over. Yet, in the end, I found I had never been so clear-headed.”

Recalling something, Lin He broke into a clean, untainted laugh, entirely unlike the person in the tale.

Lin Tao lowered his head, wavering. Could he truly defeat such a monster? He asked himself again and again: if he had been in that story, could he have endured as Lin He had? Or would he have shattered long before?

“I don’t want to die,” Lin Tao whispered.

“You’re afraid,” Lin He said indifferently.

“I will win! I will kill you!” Almost as if to embolden himself, Lin Tao spoke these words with all his might.

“Lin Tao, tell me, what do you think your heart would taste like?”

“I’m truly looking forward to it.”

Before Lin He’s words had faded, Lin Tao struck, black spiritual energy swirling layer upon layer around his right hand. This was the Lin clan’s Black Palm, a mid-tier Desolate-level technique; even among the Lin family, such a technique was rare.

Unlike magical artifacts, which were ranked by the four celestial elements, techniques were classified by the vastness of the cosmos: basic, intermediate, advanced, top-tier—and, it was rumored, immortal arts belonging to the immortals themselves.

Yet before Lin Tao’s Black Palm could strike Lin He, he was sent tumbling to the ground with a scream of agony. Looking at his legs, he found that half of them had vanished; beneath him sprawled a filthy black mire, where black bubbles occasionally surfaced.

It was a wretched, filthy swamp.

“Ah! My legs!” Lin Tao screamed.

“Disgusting. Ever since that butcher, I’ve tasted all sorts of people, each with a different flavor—I took pleasure in it. But as time went on, I realized I’d become picky.”

“Your flavor is hard to swallow, like refuse littering the ground. I wonder if your heart might give me a surprise.”

Terror crept into Lin Tao’s heart. He slowly raised his head to look at Lin He, and there—behind Lin He—he saw countless vengeful spirits, each clawing and gnashing to devour him. Yet all were shackled by intricate iron chains emanating from a black book above their heads, unable to move.

Lin Tao’s face went pale with horror.

“Do you see them? Those are the ones I’ve devoured over the years. Don’t worry, you’ll soon be among them.” Lin He’s voice was calm, his lips twisted in a half-smile as he gazed at Lin Tao.

“Lin He! Let me go! I can work for you! With my skills, you’ll achieve your revenge faster!” Lin Tao shouted desperately, unwilling to abandon even a sliver of hope for survival—willing, if need be, to discard his dignity and the freedom of his remaining days.

“Lin Tao, do you know? The way you look right now makes me sick.” Lin He frowned.

“I told you, I know everything about you. So, the one to die here will not be you, but me.” Suddenly, Lin He uttered a cryptic line.

“What?”

Then Lin Tao saw Lin He’s face begin to blur, to become murky, like the black sludge itself. Even his body oozed with muck as it shifted and changed shape.

Until, finally, a face of mud appeared before Lin Tao—one identical to his own. In an instant, that face lost all peculiarity and became perfectly ordinary, just another Lin Tao.

“What are you going to do?” Lin Tao stammered, his expression growing twisted with fear.

“I’m going to take your place. From now on, I’ll be Lin Tao. I never had a name—names are just codes to me. So I don’t mind living as you from now on.”

“I suppose, if a Lin clan prodigy died in the hinterlands, it would certainly cause a stir. That wouldn’t be my best option. But if a worthless Lin He died here, few would care.”

“You planned everything!” Lin Tao’s contorted face now seemed utterly ridiculous.

“I told you, you’re nothing but a clown in my eyes. That letter—do you remember? You intended to inform the Lin Ancestral House about the inheritance, but the moment you finished writing it, I had Steward Lin burn it. You should never have placed your hope in others.”

Imitating Lin Tao’s appearance, Lin He crouched down, gently stroking Lin Tao’s face.

“Tell me, what does it feel like to be cherished by another? How does it feel to have your face gently caressed?”

Just as he had once questioned the butcher years ago, he now demanded the answer from Lin Tao—still searching, still yearning.

“Lin He! Please! Spare me! I’ll do anything you say!” Lin Tao finally broke down.

“Perhaps that’s why your flesh is so unpalatable—it’s simply revolting.” Lin He’s eyes brimmed openly with disgust and loathing.

“Ah! Ahhhh!” Suddenly, Lin Tao screamed, a sound torn from the depths of his being.

Something had appeared in Lin He’s hand—a heart, bloody, warm, and still beating.

Lin Tao’s gaze drifted, his consciousness fading. He seemed to see another version of himself holding his own heart, another self carefully savoring it, every movement elegant, meticulous.

And behind him, a soul with Lin He’s current appearance writhed, stripped of consciousness, clawing wildly in a vain attempt to devour him.

It was Lin Tao’s soul.

“Truly, it’s awful,” Lin He remarked lightly, utterly unconcerned.

Both were practitioners of the ninth stage of Qi Refining, yet the gulf between them was immeasurable. In a flash, life and death had been decided.

Lin He rose, gazing up at the sky, his eyes filled with inscrutable thoughts. Then he began to laugh softly again, turning to one of the vengeful spirits and murmuring as if in conversation, “Mother, none of them taste quite like you.”

Elsewhere.

“Say, Brother Dao, are we just going to sit here and wait? What if Lin He is tricking us? What if he’s in league with Lin Tao?” Song Cheng sat in an odd posture on the ground, voicing his doubts.

“If you’re so curious, why not just go see for yourself?” Yudao yawned carelessly beside him.

“Easy for you to say! If I went alone, I’d be courting death!” Song Cheng replied with a sheepish grin.

“Then shut up.”

So what if I went? Isn’t that just walking to my own doom? This kid does know his limits.

“Aren’t we going to run? One of them is at Foundation Establishment, and the other’s not, but is even stronger! If they come after us, we’re done for!” Song Cheng exclaimed dramatically.

“Cheng, listen to your Brother Yudao for once,” Yudao said, lifting his head to look at Song Cheng.

“What is it?” Song Cheng asked, puzzled.

“Just stay close to us. If anything goes wrong, we can throw you to them. Other than that, stop overthinking,” Yudao replied lightly.

“…Brother Dao, if you’re planning to throw me under the bus, can you at least not lie on my lap?” Song Cheng groaned, his face contorted.

Indeed, Yudao had his head in Song Cheng’s lap, forcing poor Song Cheng to kneel in discomfort.

“Damn it, Song Cheng! Don’t you know why I’m using your lap? If your sister hadn’t rejected me, do you think I’d be lying on a man’s lap?” Yudao’s irritation mounted as he spoke, nearly bursting with indignation.

Of course, he whispered this so quietly that only Song Cheng—mere inches away—could hear, glancing furtively at Song Qiuling as he did.

Ah, the desperate will to survive.

“So, can I ask your brother or Duan Yuxuan to take your place?” Song Cheng looked helplessly at the man lying on his lap, suddenly understanding why his sister found him so exasperating.

“No! Did I say you could? Stay put! I’m not done lying down yet!” Yudao roared, this time not bothering to lower his voice.

…

Are all the injured this shameless nowadays?

The Duan siblings, observing from nearby, wore perplexed expressions. This fellow changed personas at the drop of a hat—sometimes shrewd, sometimes brainless. And now, he was lying on another man’s lap; one could only wonder what his younger brother thought.

Yu Yunfan, gazing at his brother sprawled across another’s knees, felt a sudden urge to throttle him. He wondered if their parents would cheer him on for such a thought…