Good and Evil Walk Together

As the words fell,

The entire inn fell into silence, the atmosphere instantly turning eerie.

Li Yingling's gaze sharpened in an instant, her hand already resting on her sword, ready to strike at her master's command.

Having cultivated immortality up to this point, she had never truly engaged in a serious fight.

To be honest, Li Yingling was quite eager to showcase her skills and let her master witness the divine techniques she had painstakingly mastered.

The rotting inn attendant stiffly turned his head toward Chu Xingchen, pointing a knife at him and snarling:

"You die first! You die first!"

Yuan Kong stared dumbfounded at the scene before him.

Why would anyone insult a lame inn attendant? What exactly were they seeing in their eyes?

Chu Xingchen glanced at Yuan Kong and asked, "What did that thing just say?"

"He said, 'What seems to be the trouble, sir?'"

"Then what's he holding in his hand?"

"A long teapot..."

"Tell him to put it down now!"

Yuan Kong clasped his hands together and addressed the attendant:

"Apologies, dear patron. Could you kindly set the teapot down for now?"

These words seemed to trigger the attendant. The rusted longsword in his hand slashed viciously toward Chu Xingchen as he roared:

"Die!"

Facing the charging attendant, Chu Xingchen merely lifted his gaze. Incense sticks from the censer suddenly shot forward, piercing through the attendant's limbs and pinning him onto a coffin.

The attendant's longsword clattered to the ground with a metallic clang.

Chu Xingchen turned his eyes to the stunned Yuan Kong and instructed:

"From now on, you’re the translator. Whatever he says, you translate it."

Yuan Kong hastily nodded, then listened to the attendant's muffled groans before translating:

"Ugh... It hurts... Sir, I was wrong..."

Chu Xingchen hesitated but ultimately held back his words.

As the commotion grew louder, the other coffins in the room began to tremble slightly. Meanwhile, the innkeeper, hanging upside down, bellowed:

"Brew them all! Brew them all!"

Yuan Kong glanced at the shouting innkeeper, his face twisting in conflict before translating:

"He's asking you to let go."

"Translate everything."

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Looking for trouble?" Yuan Kong immediately clasped his hands again, justifying himself: "Translation doesn’t break precepts... Translation doesn’t break precepts..."

Before Yuan Kong could finish, hurried footsteps echoed from behind the curtain at the back of the inn.

A group of attendants in identical uniforms, each with rotting patches on different parts of their bodies and wielding various weapons, limped out one by one, glaring furiously at Chu Xingchen and the others.

The innkeeper roared: "Men into the brew, women on the fire, children as sashimi!"

Yuan Kong quickly translated: "Picking on the disabled? Don’t you have any mercy for these poor souls?"

After hearing the translation, Chu Xingchen’s eyes flickered. A surge of spiritual energy erupted, instantly freezing the rotting attendants in place.

The trembling coffins also fell silent.

Chu Xingchen glanced down at the attendant pinned to the coffin. His head was already deformed from rot, the brain inside clearly reduced to a pulpy mess.

Yet, he continued to let out meaningless wails.

Pulling out a stick of incense from the nearby censer, Chu Xingchen drove it straight through the attendant’s skull without hesitation.

The incense pierced through his brain and the coffin beneath.

A howl erupted from inside the coffin before silence returned.

Even with the incense embedded in his head, the attendant still whimpered incoherently.

Yuan Kong finally understood the situation.

His horrified gaze swept across the room—

The furious innkeeper, the disabled attendants clutching brooms and kitchenware, all glaring at them with rage.

The grotesquely proportioned table, the attendant nailed to it, his brains spilling onto the floor as he continued to wail.

Only now, with an attendant pinned to the "table," did Yuan Kong realize what Chu Xingchen likely saw—a coffin.

After all, a table perfectly fitted to a human body... was far too unusual.

Chu Xingchen tapped Yuan Kong’s head lightly. "Don’t panic. What’s real is real."

Yuan Kong glanced at the dish on the table—half chili, half cabbage—and swallowed nervously. "Then... what do you see in this bowl?"

Li Yingling stood up and answered, "Something you’d never want to eat."

Yuan Kong stole another look at the attendant with his brains spilled everywhere. "So... what you’re seeing is real?"

After all, in Yuan Kong’s world, no one could survive with their brains smeared across a table while still begging for mercy.

If his own perception was wrong, then Chu Xingchen’s must be the truth.

Chu Xingchen summoned his spiritual sword and calmly explained, "It’s not about true or false. Your eyes see kindness; ours see malice."

"Good and evil oppose each other, yet they intertwine. We must combine our perspectives to judge."

"Your kindness helps us gather information, while my malice shields you from the dangers you can’t perceive."

Yuan Kong nodded in understanding, instantly grasping his role.

He was just here to translate.

The dirty work? That was Chu Xingchen’s job.

Pleased with Yuan Kong’s quick comprehension, Chu Xingchen turned his attention back to the attendant still lying on the coffin, spewing curses.

His spiritual sword now rested against the attendant’s throat:

"Talk. What kind of place is this?"

"Kill you! Kill you!"

Yuan Kong translated: "The innkeeper is a kind soul. All the workers here are poor souls with disabilities. If you have a problem, take it up with him."

Li Yingling found it fascinating how two words could be stretched into such a lengthy explanation.

Chu Xingchen remained unfazed and pressed on: "Who’s in charge of this village?"

"Slaughter your family! Slaughter your family!" the attendant slurred through his rage.

Without hesitation, Chu Xingchen severed the attendant’s right hand—the one that had held the knife.

Insulting the little monk was tolerable, but cursing him? Chu Xingchen’s patience had its limits.

Yuan Kong hurriedly translated: "Ah... It hurts..."

Unable to hold back, Chu Xingchen flicked Yuan Kong’s head again. "Don’t translate the whining. Use your brain—just the key details."

"Oh... right... He said the village chief is in charge here," Yuan Kong muttered, rubbing his sore head.

First, it was "translate everything," now it was "pick the important bits." So hard to please!

Chu Xingchen asked again:

"Where’s the village chief’s house?"

"Boil you alive! Boil you alive!"

Chu Xingchen swung his sword again, this time taking the attendant’s left hand.

Yuan Kong’s face twisted in horror. In his eyes, it was just a pitiful, lame man begging for mercy while Chu Xingchen coldly hacked off his limbs.

Had the man’s brains not been spilled everywhere, Yuan Kong might have intervened.

But now... better not.

"He said... the largest house in the eastern part of the village belongs to the chief."