Chapter 62: Soul of the Tune

Han Li's fingers lingered on the giant's cold skin as he gazed at the dull, lifeless eyes. His mind raced, piecing together what might have happened to Zhang Tie.

Han Li concluded that, in all likelihood, Doctor Mo had colluded with Yu Zicong. They must have abducted Zhang Tie, who had achieved some proficiency in the "Elephant Armor Art" back then. To deceive the Seven Mysteries Sect's many watchful eyes, they then fabricated the illusion of his departure. Covertly, they used some sort of spell to strip Zhang Tie of his soul, then warped his body into its current bizarre state, strikingly similar to someone who had mastered the "Elephant Armor Art."

Han Li's conjecture was remarkably accurate; the true circumstances were indeed very close to his estimation.

Years ago, Doctor Mo had conceived a peculiar idea: to combine the "Elephant Armor Art" with the corpse refinement techniques provided by Yu Zicong. His aim was to create a formidable army of obedient corpse puppets, capable of dominating the martial arts world. Yet, in the limited time available, he only managed to complete this single giant. Doctor Mo cherished him as a priceless treasure, ordinarily concealing him in a hidden location at the base of the mountain. He had only brought the giant back during his last return trip to the sect.

However, Yu Zicong harbored no interest whatsoever in such an unconventional corpse puppet, even dismissing it with scorn. While his original body was still functional, he possessed numerous methods to subdue such incomplete beings. Furthermore, these corpse puppets were vastly inferior in power to the advanced Iron Armored Corpse puppets crafted by true cultivators, suitable only for displaying might within the mortal realm. Their sole redeeming quality was perhaps the simplicity of their materials and the ease of their creation, allowing even those with limited spiritual power to produce them.

After a long pause, Han Li abruptly retracted his hand from the giant's face, his gaze shifting uneasily away from him. His eyes fixated on the broken stone door, and he fell into a vacant stare.

In that instant, a chilling realization washed over him. It wasn't the tragedy of Zhang Tie's fate that disturbed him, but rather his own startling indifference and coldness.

He had anticipated that upon discovering his friend's wretched end, he would furiously raise his head, bellowing the names "Mo Juren" and "Yu Zicong" with a voice brimming with hatred and rage.

Yet, in reality, beyond a faint trace of sorrow, he felt no profound stirrings or anger. It was as if the one enduring this grim fate wasn't his old friend, Zhang Tie, but rather an inconsequential stranger.

Was it because he knew that the Zhang Tie before him was merely an empty husk, not his actual friend? Or had his heart simply become utterly ruthless and unfeeling?

This stark exhibition of selfishness and indifference filled Han Li with a sense of dread. Only then did he realize how utterly alien he had become to himself, at some point he couldn't recall.

Han Li finally roused himself from his stupor. He cast a complex gaze upon the giant, uncertain how to address "him."

Recalling Doctor Mo's descriptions of a "lost soul" and a "walking corpse," Han Li looked up at the sky and spoke softly:

"Brother Zhang, I presume you have already been reincarnated. The body you left behind is no longer of use, so please allow your little brother to make use of it. I promise to use it with the utmost care, and I hope you won't hold it against me."

Having uttered these prayer-like words, Han Li felt a semblance of peace, as if self-hypnotized. Then, he spoke to the giant again:

"Since you are merely Brother Zhang's abandoned shell, devoid of an independent soul, I shall call you 'Qu Hun'! I hope you will be able to assist me in the days ahead."

Upon hearing Han Li's words, the giant remained motionless, staring blankly. Apart from his consistently docile expression, there was no reaction whatsoever, confirming that he indeed possessed no independent consciousness and could only passively obey commands.

"'To speak such words to a mindless body, how utterly foolish of me!' Han Li shook his head in self-mockery, then walked with light steps toward the stone house."

"'Qu Hun, follow me.'"

Han Li had completely shaken off his melancholic mood, his expression now normal, as if nothing untoward had occurred. It appeared he had indeed become as cold and rational as he believed himself to be, no longer easily swayed by emotions.

This astonishing transformation — for Han Li, who was on the verge of embarking on the path of an immortal cultivator — was it a blessing or a curse?

For the remainder of the day, Han Li busied himself with diligently handling the aftermath, ensuring everything was taken care of properly.

He not only buried Doctor Mo's corpse beneath a large tree but also meticulously destroyed and discarded every remaining item inside the stone house. Furthermore, he ordered Qu Hun to completely demolish the entire structure, reducing it to such scattered rubble that its original form was utterly indiscernible before he finally ceased his efforts.

After this extensive ordeal, dusk had settled, and the sun had begun its descent.

Han Li stood before the former stone house, now a mere heap of rubble, surveying his surroundings. Finding no oversight, he nodded with satisfaction.

"'Qu Hun, let's go!'"

"'Tomorrow brings a mountain of tasks to handle! It's a pity you lack consciousness and cannot speak; otherwise, having someone to consult with would make me feel much more settled.'"

Bathed in the fiery glow of the setting sun, Han Li's elongated shadow stretched behind him as he incessantly mumbled to the giant, now named 'Qu Hun.' He seemed to have finally found a good listener—someone to whom he could confide his thoughts without fear of complaint. In that moment, not a trace of his earlier coldness or ruthlessness remained; he appeared entirely like a neighborhood boy.

After ensuring Qu Hun was settled, Han Li returned to his own dwelling. Inside, he behaved like a stranger who had been away for a prolonged period, touching the tables, chairs, and benches around him, and muttering to himself:

"'What a long day this has been! It feels longer than the past ten or so years of my life combined.'"

Then, abruptly, he collapsed onto the bed and plunged into a deep slumber.

He was utterly exhausted, both mentally and physically.

"'Still, it's good to be alive and back home,' he thought, a faint smile gracing his lips as he drifted into sleep."