Reborn as a succubus - Chapter 57

Xi Che’s perspective shifted again—he was now seeing through Jin Lingzi’s eyes.

Jin Lingzi was kneeling before a spirit tablet, bowing solemnly three times. When he finished, he said softly:

“Master, this disciple has faithfully followed your teachings. I have not passed on the techniques you created to anyone, nor have I taken on another disciple. Yet your spells are so vast and profound—it would be a pity for them to be lost to time. Today, I am burying all the techniques I recorded in this book beneath your memorial. If one day, someone fated should come across it and learn from it, that too will be a way to honor your legacy.”

After speaking, Jin Lingzi buried a blank-covered book beneath one of the tiles in front of the memorial.

That memorial tablet, Xi Che immediately recognized—it was his own, the memorial of the War God Asas.
And that blank-covered book—he recognized it too. It was his own notebook, the one containing every spell he had ever created.

Watching Jin Lingzi treat him with such respect moved him deeply. He couldn’t deny the ache in his chest.
Truthfully, when it came to the relationship between master and disciple, it was Xi Che who had wronged Jin Lingzi more. Though he had taught him magic earnestly, ever since arriving in the demon realm, Xi Che’s life had fallen into despair. Even after taking on a disciple, he hadn’t changed—he’d left Jin Lingzi to grow on his own, without guidance. Yet the young man had remained devoted to him, to the very end.

A wave of guilt washed over him. When he left back then, all he had wanted was to abandon everything and die—he hadn’t made any plans for his disciple’s future. Truly, he had been cold and selfish.

After burying the book, Jin Lingzi hesitated. Then, after a moment of thought, he dug it back out again. He tore out two pages, murmured a short incantation, and burned them to ashes with a Fire Spell.

He said quietly to himself:

“The chapters on Soul Capture and Soul Search—it’s better if they’re never recorded.”

When he finished, he reburied the notebook beneath the tile.

Xi Che sighed in his heart. Everything Jin Lingzi had done was perfectly in line with his teachings—he had never disobeyed him, and in some ways, he had done even better.
The Soul Capture and Soul Search techniques were the most dangerous and sinister spells in Xi Che’s entire collection. Jin Lingzi had destroyed them, unwilling to risk them falling into the wrong hands. That was loyalty beyond reproach.

But before Xi Che could linger in emotion, something unexpected happened.

About fifteen minutes after Jin Lingzi left, a young man stepped out from behind the memorial tablet.

Smiling faintly as he watched Jin Lingzi’s departing figure, he murmured:

“Such a fine book… what a waste to bury it underground.”

That young man was Meng Xinghe.

A sharp, stabbing pain suddenly surged through Xi Che’s skull. He gasped and quickly closed his eyes—everything around him dissolved into darkness.

The Zhu You Worm’s power had forcibly ejected him from Jin Lingzi’s memories. His current strength was far weaker than in the past—unlike before, he couldn’t withstand the spiritual backlash from such deep memory projection. The pain throbbed violently behind his temples.

From deep within his consciousness, the white tiger’s mocking voice echoed:

“You brought this on yourself.”

Xi Che ignored it. Breathing heavily, his head pounding, he realized the truth at last—
he had wronged Jin Lingzi.

Jin Lingzi had never betrayed him. He had never taken a disciple behind his back.
The true culprit behind everything—the one who had deceived him and caused all this chaos—was Meng Xinghe.

Yet the memory he had seen was incomplete. He still didn’t know the full truth of Jin Lingzi’s death, nor what had really happened in the Battle of Qiu Fort.

So, despite his pain, he gritted his teeth and forced himself back into the memory once more.

This time, the scene opened in a meeting room.

There were three people present: Meng Xinghe, Jin Lingzi, and a man clad in black robes and silver armor.

The man sat across from Jin Lingzi at a table, a miniature battle map spread out between them.

Xi Che recognized him instantly—it must be General He Feilong.

He looked to be in his thirties, bearing the sharp aura of a seasoned commander. Meng Xinghe stood quietly behind Jin Lingzi, head slightly bowed, pretending to listen obediently.

Jin Lingzi spoke with a sigh:

“Qiu Fort’s terrain is treacherous—easy to defend, hard to attack. The people there are united as one. It’s a tough nut to crack. Feilong, if it truly cannot be taken, then let it go.”

His tone was weary. Judging by the topic, Xi Che realized this must be the very Battle of Qiu Fort Meng Xinghe had once mentioned.

He Feilong frowned, staring at the map for a long moment before replying gravely:

“I’ll try to negotiate once more with their high priest. Qiu Fort lies between Xiaoyao Mountain and Ruoshui River. If we can’t open this route, we’ll never channel the spirit spring through—it’ll stunt our future development.”

Jin Lingzi nodded.

“Do what you can, but don’t push too hard. Just give it your best.”

After their discussion, He Feilong stood and took his leave.

Once he was gone, Meng Xinghe stepped forward, smiling slyly.

“You trust He Feilong so much—be careful he doesn’t stab you in the back.”

Jin Lingzi frowned.

“When you employ someone, you must trust them. In times of war, suspicion only breeds chaos.”

Meng Xinghe twirled a strand of his hair between his fingers, his lips curling into a faint, poisonous smile.

“If it were anyone else, perhaps. But he’s a surrendered general of the Qiang tribe—surely resentment still lingers in his heart. I’ve heard he was once invincible among his people, undefeated in a hundred battles. And yet, ever since joining Xiaoyao Mountain, he’s failed to conquer even one small fortress. Isn’t that… a little strange? Maybe he’s not as loyal as you think. Seems to me, you’ve overestimated his gratitude.”

“Enough.”

Jin Lingzi’s voice snapped like a whip. His face showed genuine anger.

“General Feilong is an old friend. Though we once stood on opposite sides, I know his character—he is a man of integrity. Were it not for his people’s corrupt rulers, he’d never have defected. I trust him completely. Xinghe, do not speak such words again, or I will punish you under military law!”

Meng Xinghe blinked, taken aback.

“He’s your old friend?”

Jin Lingzi sighed.

“Yes. My old friend—and a dear one. So hold your tongue.”

He turned and left. Behind him, Meng Xinghe stood frozen, his expression twisting into a shadowed, venomous glare.

“This one’s up to no good,”

the white tiger muttered dryly inside Xi Che’s consciousness before Xi Che could even speak.

Xi Che frowned—he shared the same uneasy feeling.
From what he had seen in Jin Lingzi’s memories so far, Meng Xinghe was a man of ruthless cunning and deep deceit, nothing like the obedient, gentle persona he showed to Xi Che.

Soon, a message arrived from the front lines:
General He Feilong had successfully negotiated peace with the Qiu Fort high priest.
They agreed to open a safe passage, allowing Xiaoyao Mountain’s people to draw from the spirit spring.

Jin Lingzi was overjoyed. He turned to Meng Xinghe and said,

“See? General Feilong is indeed capable.”

He had already forgotten their earlier argument, thinking all troubles were over.

But the very next day—Qiu Fort rebelled.

They tore up the peace treaty, and with it, they sent a severed head—He Feilong’s.

The shock hit Jin Lingzi like lightning. Staring at his friend’s lifeless eyes, his heart felt as though it had been pierced through. In a fury, he personally led his troops to avenge him.

Meng Xinghe, as his personal guardian, naturally went with him.

When they arrived, hordes of crazed Qiu tribesmen charged at them like wild beasts.
Jin Lingzi immediately sensed the black miasma swirling around them—they had fallen into demonic corruption.

Blinded by rage, Jin Lingzi concluded that these corrupted warriors must have murdered He Feilong. He unsheathed his sword and struck them down without mercy.

Everything happened so quickly—Xi Che suddenly felt a chill crawl up the back of his neck.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

That eerie, malicious glint in Meng Xinghe’s eyes confirmed it.

“General Feilong’s death… there’s more to it than meets the eye.”

When Jin Lingzi calmed down, reason returned to him.

“We must find out exactly what happened.”

Meng Xinghe immediately stepped forward.

“Let me go.”

His tone was solemn, his face full of apparent sincerity.

“No matter what, General Feilong died for Xiaoyao Mountain. We owe him justice.”

Jin Lingzi studied him for a moment but didn’t respond.
Meng Xinghe gently tugged on his sleeve, eyes wide and earnest.

“I know we’ve had our differences, but at times like this, who else can stand beside you if not me? Trust me—I’ll make sure the truth is uncovered.”

Jin Lingzi finally nodded.

“I trust you.”

Meng Xinghe’s smile bloomed—soft, radiant, almost innocent. For a fleeting second, he looked utterly sincere.

Jin Lingzi truly believed in him. In his eyes, Meng Xinghe was still that half-grown youth he had raised, perhaps a little scheming in his early years, but now upright and loyal.

He had no idea of the shadows his disciple hid behind that smile.

But this time—something about the situation gnawed at him.

After Meng Xinghe departed, Jin Lingzi watched his figure fade into the distance and sighed.

“Shadow Guard,” he called softly, “assist Xinghe in his investigation—and make sure he doesn’t notice you.”

That moment marked the beginning—and the end.

If Jin Lingzi had always been this perceptive, perhaps disaster could have been averted.
If he had remained blind, things might never have escalated so catastrophically.

The Shadow Guard uncovered the truth quickly—by sheer luck.

He had arrived at Qiu Fort just in time to witness Meng Xinghe preparing to kill the last surviving witness. The guard rescued the dying man and brought him before Jin Lingzi.

The survivor’s account was chilling:

At first, everything had gone as General He Feilong reported. Peace had been achieved.
The high priest had even organized a feast to welcome them.

But then—He Feilong’s men suddenly captured and executed the high priest.
Within a day, his severed head was sent back to the tribe.

The Qiu warriors went mad. Their high priest was not only their leader but their spiritual heart. United and fierce, they saw this as a vile betrayal.

They believed Xiaoyao Mountain had planned it from the start—to kill, to conquer, to seize their spirit spring.
He Feilong’s offer of peace, they thought, had been a trap.

He Feilong himself had no idea what was happening. As he and his guards were discussing the situation in his tent, a mob of enraged warriors stormed in and hacked him to pieces. His head was later sent back to Xiaoyao Mountain.

But even Qiu Fort gained no victory from this madness.

Someone had poisoned their victory wine. By morning, half the fort lay dead.

And the dying witness said one last thing—

“The day of the peace talks… someone saw you in the fort.”

—“You were seen in Qiu Fort that day.”

Jin Lingzi stared fixedly at Meng Xinghe, the veins in his eyes almost bursting with blood.
“I never assigned you any mission,” he said hoarsely. “What were you doing there?”

Even after being exposed, Meng Xinghe didn’t show the slightest sign of panic. He only smiled faintly at Jin Lingzi.
“You don’t trust me? You’d rather believe those treacherous people of Qiu Village than me?”

“It wasn’t us who broke faith—it was Xiaoyao Mountain! More than one person saw you being welcomed into the Great Priest’s tent. Right after that, news of his death came! It was you who killed the Great Priest! That’s why we went after General Feilong! The brothers of Qiu Village who weren’t poisoned all died at your hands! You’ve been hunting us down ever since… they’re all dead—all of them!
If you weren’t the one sowing discord, why would you exterminate us like this?!”

The captive tied up to the side shouted with all the fury and grief in his chest, almost spitting blood with each word.
“What hatred do you have against Qiu Village? Why would you do something so cruel?!”

Meng Xinghe still smiled lightly, his expression almost gentle.
“If you don’t kill the snake, it’ll bite you later. You people are ambitious and rebellious. You killed our General Feilong—what’s wrong with me wiping you all out?”

The captive was so enraged he could barely form words. He fell to his knees, screaming hoarsely,
“Bullshit! You beast! You vile beast!!!”

By then, Jin Lingzi had already pieced together the whole truth.
He closed his eyes wearily and interrupted their shouting. “Enough. Take him away.”

He ordered the shadow guard to remove the prisoner. When the door closed, only he and Meng Xinghe remained in the room.
“Now it’s just the two of us,” Jin Lingzi said quietly. “Tell me—why did you do it?”

Meng Xinghe was silent for a moment before replying,
“You said you trusted me. Then why did you send the shadow guard to investigate me?”

A bitter smile twisted Jin Lingzi’s lips.
“The thing I regret most in my life was trusting you… no, my real mistake was saving you at all. Someone like you will never change.”

Meng Xinghe had been about to defend himself, but after hearing that, he stopped.
He grinned instead—wide, malicious, a smile filled with venom.
“You’re right. You never should’ve trusted me. But who’s to blame for that? You were just too stupid.
You know, this isn’t the only thing you were stupid about. Remember those orphans and beggars I brought back—the ones I said found their families and left? I killed them. Every one of them.
If you hadn’t sent me to find them, maybe they’d still be alive.
It’s your fault. You killed them.”

Jin Lingzi stared at him in shock. “What… what did you say?”

“I said it’s your fault they’re dead!”

Meng Xinghe’s tone turned cold and vicious.
“Why are you such a bleeding heart, huh? You want to save everyone in the world? Well, I don’t want you to save anyone! There are so many people out there—can you save them all?! How many do you need clinging to you before you’re satisfied?!”

“…You wicked creature!”

Jin Lingzi was so furious he couldn’t even speak. His hands trembled as he drew the sword from his waist and stabbed it straight into Meng Xinghe’s shoulder.

“I’m wicked? And what are you then?”

Meng Xinghe stepped closer, blood gushing from his wound, but he didn’t seem to feel any pain.
“Do you even know who those people you slaughtered in Qiu Village were?”

Seeing Jin Lingzi freeze, Meng Xinghe laughed wildly.
“Don’t remember, do you? When General Feilong defected to your side, he didn’t come alone—he brought his entire family.
Didn’t he ask you to look after them? Ha! I only fed them a bit of demon powder, made them reek of demonic energy, and you cut them all down without hesitation.
They could’ve been saved, but you killed them yourself. Jin Lingzi—your hands are stained with more of the Feilong clan’s blood than mine.”

Even just hearing this, Xi Che could feel the crushing despair.
He couldn’t imagine the self-blame Jin Lingzi must have felt upon learning the truth.
All he saw was Jin Lingzi wrench his sword free, let out a strangled cry, and dash out of the room.

Meng Xinghe didn’t chase him. He simply stood there, watching Jin Lingzi’s departing back with cold, unfathomable eyes.

The scene shifted one final time—to General Feilong’s grave.
Jin Lingzi poured a jug of wine over the earth. Xi Che couldn’t make out every word, only fragments of his broken, grief-stricken voice—
“…blind judgment… betrayed trust… only death can atone…”

Then, before Feilong’s tomb, Jin Lingzi took his own life.

When the memory stored within the Zhu You worm ended, Xi Che was utterly undone.
His head throbbed with unbearable pain, and his chest heaved with rage and sorrow. He could feel Jin Lingzi’s fury, his guilt, his hatred that even death couldn’t dissolve.
Right now, he wanted nothing more than to kill Meng Xinghe with his bare hands.

The white tiger shouted in his consciousness, hopping anxiously:
“Your body’s falling apart, and you’re still thinking about killing someone? Keep yourself alive first!”

Xi Che found it unbearably noisy and tried to shut it out, but the pain was too much—he couldn’t even open his eyes.
He only heard the tiger’s voice shouting at him:
“Hey! Hey! That guy’s coming… wake up!”

Xi Che’s temper flared. He clenched his fist and slammed it hard against his own head, forcing himself back to consciousness.

The white tiger’s last word still echoed in his ears like a tolling bell when Xi Che opened his eyes—and found himself staring straight into the face he hated most in the world.
Meng Xinghe was right in front of him, his expression full of concern.

“Master’s master, are you alright? Master’s master…”

Damn it. Don’t call him that! Disgusting!

Every cell in Xi Che’s body recoiled at the title, but he couldn’t even open his mouth to protest.
Meng Xinghe leaned closer, his voice soft, almost tender, as if whispering a lover’s plea:
“Have you… thought of a way to bring Master back?”