Mount Lebai stretched out for a thousand miles of scorched earth, barren and desolate, open to view as far as the eye could see.
Not knowing when the disciples of the Shanhai Palace might stage a comeback, Shen Shu placed a restriction sealing Mount Lebai just before leaving, allowing exit but forbidding entry.
However, the celestial abode of Danxiao Sanren proved far from easy to find. Carrying Pei Zizhuo on his back, Shen Shu traversed half the mountain, yet met only crumbling walls and ruined foundations, to say nothing of a house fit for human habitation.
He truly ought to have returned to Jiyang Palace first and consulted the Master of Fate to carefully review Danxiao’s life recorded in the white jade slips of destiny.
Behind him, Pei Zizhuo was frail beyond measure, hanging by a thread solely sustained by a single breath of immortal essence; time waited for no man. Giving up on the search altogether, Shen Shu simply stopped in his tracks. He retrieved the Mysterious Mechanism Umbrella from his Linglong Pouch and tossed it into midair, conjuring it into the form of the small pavilion where he once resided.
This was his lodging back when he cultivated at the Sifang Pavilion before his ascension. Though small, the pavilion lacked for nothing, equipped with wards, enchantments, and talismans. The second floor was aligned with Yin to store spiritual tools and elixir medicines, while the first floor held only a soft couch for rest.
Pushing the door open, Shen Shu laid the frail Pei Zizhuo onto the bed and extended his divine consciousness to scan his entire body.
Those external injuries that looked frightful were healed once coated with a layer of immortal essence; what caused the greatest headache was Pei Zizhuo’s fractured Qilin Bone.
A cultivator’s immortal bone was intimately tied to their cultivation base, immortal path, and karmic fortune. Cultivators throughout the world would rather crush their own golden core than ruin their immortal bone. A shattered golden core could still be mended through secret arts, but a fractured immortal bone was virtually beyond redemption.
Fortunately, during his closed-door cultivation at the Sovereign’s celestial estate, Shen Shu had read several ancient texts detailing how to mend an immortal bone. It came down to two key points: alignment and nourishment.
He himself possessed a pure fire spiritual root and harbored the True Fire of the Red Lotus within his body, making bone alignment an absolute certainty. However, the subsequent nourishment would still require a fortune in spirit pills and immortal herbs.
He sighed, blaming himself for failing to build up any assets at the Sifang Pavilion before ascending, leaving him in such dire straits now. With no other choice, Shen Shu sent out a sound-transmitting talisman to the heavenly realm, asking a close friend for help.
Perhaps overwhelmed by the unbearable pain of the broken bone, Pei Zizhuo mumbled in delirium, showing signs of waking.
Shen Shu hurried over, dragging a long bench to sit opposite him and wait.
Pei Zizhuo furrowed his sharp brows as if trapped in a nightmare, his face terribly pale. Trapping a stifled breath, he trembled uncontrollably. Just as Shen Shu was about to reach out and check on him, Pei Zizhuo snapped his eyes open.
What greeted his eyes was not the gloomy Soul-Burning Pagoda, but a plain white bed canopy bathed in sunlight.
Pei Zizhuo stared blankly for a moment, only then recalling that he seemed to have been saved by a beauty who looked like an immortal.
“You’re awake?” A clear, bright youth’s voice sounded by Pei Zizhuo’s ear, laced with concern: “I’ve healed your superficial injuries. Give me the Qilin Bone, and I’ll help you mend it.”
What an offensive request this was. An immortal bone was a cultivator’s most private and vital possession. Regardless of whether mending it was even possible, he now possessed nothing else, having only this object on hand for self-defense. How could he hand it over so casually?
Had this person not just saved his life, he would certainly have suspected malicious intent.
Pei Zizhuo turned his head, originally intending to spit out some cutting remarks. Yet the moment he met Shen Shu’s clear, peach-blossom eyes, he felt bewitched, suddenly thinking that giving his immortal bone to this person might not be so bad after all.
The thought was utterly preposterous. Composing his mind, Pei Zizhuo softened his tone and asked, “I see that you appear quite young, and your cultivation is impressive. But mending an immortal bone is no simple feat. You have already saved my life; I, Pei, will naturally repay the debt in the future.”
Having lived for over two thousand years only to be told he looked young, Shen Shu felt deeply wounded.
Back then, he had deliberately held back his progress for several years, waiting until he was seventeen or eighteen before establishing his foundation. Alas, he still appeared small, retaining the look of a youthful boy.
Was it truly as the mortals said, that a man without hair on his lip cannot be trusted to do things properly?
It was certainly too late to alter his appearance now. Shen Shu rolled his eyes slightly in thought, then summoned the True Fire of the Red Lotus, offering it upon his fingertips.
The true fire assumed the shape of a lotus flower, pulsing deep crimson throughout with extraordinary vigor, akin to a beating heart radiating vitality and scorching heat.
“Recognize this?” Shen Shu said, half boasting and half vindicating himself: “Have you ever seen a young person who could tame a true fire?”
Pei Zizhuo was startled. He truly had not expected this person to command a true fire; his cultivation base had to be above the Soul Transformation stage, perhaps even surpassing Pei Zizhuo’s own peak.
Saving a life could be chalked up to kindness, but being willing to expend one’s own spiritual energy using the True Fire of the Red Lotus to help someone was simply too strange. Pei Zizhuo possessed a fine memory and knew for certain they had never met before. Unable to keep from probing to the bottom of it, he wondered what on earth this person was after.
“Impressive indeed. Fellow Daoist, do not blame me for speaking the doubts in my heart, but may I ask why you are helping me with all your might when we are complete strangers?”
Shen Shu blinked, completely stumped by the question. Was having someone save one’s life not an immense blessing? Why probe for reasons? He certainly could not admit he was doing it to pay off a debt.
He looked up at Pei Zizhuo leaning against the bedside. The man leaned back languidly, his brows raised with unrestrained flair, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he boldly sized him up.
He showed not the slightest sign of being a severely injured weakling, acting entirely like an unscrupulous scoundrel. Yet for some reason, it made Shen Shu’s heart skip a beat.
Perhaps from being sheltered in the heavenly realm for too long, or perhaps because this was his first mission down in the mortal realm, Shen Shu suffered a momentary lapse in judgment and blurted out, “Because you are good-looking.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Shen Shu realized what he had done, his face instantly turning bright red.
Too, too, too humiliating! With so many excuses to brush it off, how could he let slip the one most prone to misunderstanding?
Pei Zizhuo was indeed handsome, with soaring sword-like brows, deep-set eye sockets, and a pair of auspicious phoenix eyes smiling as they took in their company, carrying the distinct air of a gilded, profligate rogue.
Pei Zizhuo raised an eyebrow. Seeing the other party so utterly flustered, he found it thoroughly entertaining and could not resist teasing him further: “Beauty, could it be you fancy me? What a pity that I possess nothing right now; would following me not bring you nothing but hardship?”
Shen Shu burned with shame, unable to even protest being called a beauty. Waving his hands repeatedly, he tried to salvage the situation: “I misspoke! It is not because you are good-looking. It is because, because you look like an old friend of mine.”
“An old friend?” Pei Zizhuo scoffed lightly, his tone chilling slightly. “Then I am truly blessed. Should the chance arise, I must thank this old friend in person.”
Seeing that the more he explained, the messier it became, to the point where admitting to the first excuse would have been better, Shen Shu simply gave up trying to justify himself and changed the subject: “Let me set your bone first. If the immortal bone stays outside your body for too long, its spiritual power will gradually dissipate, harming your cultivation.”
Pei Zizhuo slowly withdrew his scrutinizing gaze. The man had already displayed the True Fire of the Red Lotus; had he truly intended to kill him, there was no need to go to such lengths. Reaching into the empty air, an off-white dagger appeared in his palm, traced with incomplete patterns and radiating a cold chill.
Shen Shu took the dagger, using the true fire at his fingertips to refine it into a cluster of yellow light. Tapping it gently against Pei Zizhuo’s waist, he melted that section of Qilin Bone along his flank and merged it back into his body.
The agony of rejoining a broken bone was truly dreadful, like pouring scalding molten iron directly over iron walls and copper ramparts.
Pei Zizhuo’s spine felt as though it had melted in an instant. Overwhelmed by excruciating pain, his face drained of color, and he let out a muffled groan.
Setting an immortal bone was akin to reconstructing the path of one’s destiny; it tolerated no carelessness. The subject had to remain conscious, vividly feeling their own bone liquefy before breaking apart and reassembling vertebra by vertebra.
Shen Shu frowned, dividing his attention to observe Pei Zizhuo’s condition. Knowing how agonizing the process was, he feared Pei Zizhuo might pass out halfway through. Yet this man proved extraordinarily resilient; though his veins bulged and his teeth ground nearly to dust from the pain, he did not utter another sound.
After the time it took for a stick of incense to burn, the missing piece of Qilin Bone finally returned to its place. Shen Shu and Pei Zizhuo sighed in relief almost simultaneously.
This world-ending agony, combined with the searing heat of the true fire, had dragged Pei Zizhuo back from the gates of the underworld. Drenched in sweat as if washed in water, he could not lift so much as a single finger.
Aligning an immortal bone drained effort, and nourishing it drained wealth. If a rejoined bone was left unnourished, it was like stacking wooden pegs without nails; a gust of wind would scatter them apart.
Yet Shen Shu was currently empty-handed and neck-deep in debt; the only thing he possessed that counted as a spiritual medicine was his own blood. The blood of a Mahayana-stage cultivator could pass for celestial medicine in the heavenly realm, let alone that of an actual immortal.
Drawing his fingernail across his palm, Shen Shu slit a line of blood and brought it close to Pei Zizhuo’s mouth.
Pei Zizhuo opened his eyes with a frown, seeing that Shen Shu was actually feeding him with his own blood. In the past, he would have spat it out immediately, but his throat bobbed involuntarily; a mouthful of warm, sweet, metallic blood was swept down into his stomach by his tongue, sending a wave of heat coursing through his entire body.
It truly was a miracle elixir. The aching soreness in his spine eased considerably, the weariness across his body receded, and his vision grew steadily clear.
Pei Zizhuo’s spirit, meridians, and blood essence had all suffered severe depletion. This spiritual source delivered right to his doorstep made him crave more; without realizing it, he took Shen Shu’s palm into his mouth, his lips and teeth gently nibbling and suckling, unwilling to part for even half a second, driven by a fervor that seemed poised to devour the man whole.
Licked until he went numb, goosebumps broke out all over Shen Shu’s body. Hurriedly pulling his hand away and meeting Pei Zizhuo’s burning gaze, he said with lingering fear, “That is enough, that is enough.”
Pei Zizhuo licked the bright red from the edge of his lips. How long had it been since his body felt this unburdened? Even his long-stagnant spiritual energy could now be mobilized with ease; it was nothing short of a complete rebirth.
Returning to his senses, he unabashedly admired Shen Shu, thinking to himself that this person dared to nourish him with his own blood, and wondering if he really had taken a fancy to him.
The idea was too absurd, and he could not help mocking himself internally that the Divine Land was vast, so how could he possibly happen upon a sleeve-cutter like Danxiao by coincidence?
First saving his life, then mending his bone; this debt of gratitude would not be easy to repay. He asked, “Does Fellow Daoist have any unresolved matters?”
Shen Shu was momentarily taken aback. Having learned from his previous blunder, he took care to weigh his words this time. Lowering his head for a good while, he finally said, “I am a person who believes in seeing things through from start to finish. Since I set your immortal bone, I must see to it that it mends completely; you cannot run off halfway through.”
Just where had this living Bodhisattva fallen from the heavens?
Pei Zizhuo asked with a smile, “Only this? Do you have no bitter enemies, or perhaps an unrequited love?”
Shen Shu shook his head, stating firmly, “Only this. Do you agree?”
“Fine,” Pei Zizhuo replied, laughter dancing in his eyes. “I agree.”
Shen Shu quietly breathed a sigh of relief. He knew Pei Zizhuo possessed extraordinary talent; if he could keep him here safely to finish healing his immortal bone, supplemented by spiritual herbs to accelerate the process, ascending to immortality would be only a matter of time.
Although a verbal promise carried little weight, Shen Shu had an inkling that while Pei Zizhuo seemed like a rake, he possessed a strong sense of honor and likely would not break his word.
His guess was spot on. While Pei Zizhuo loved tearing people down and possessed a tongue sharp to an extreme degree, every word he spoke was the truth; he considered himself upright and open, never deigning to practice deceit.
Pei Zizhuo examined the structure of the small pavilion. It was built with great care; though not large in area, it felt spacious, gathering Yang and dispersing Yin, clearly the handiwork of a master. Driven by curiosity, he asked, “How long has this pavilion been built?”
“It has not been built here for very long,” Shen Shu answered truthfully.
Pei Zizhuo’s gaze drifted past the carved crossbeams and out the window. The terrain of Mount Lebai was unique across the cultivation realm, and he recognized it at a single glance. Frowning, he asked, “This is still Mount Lebai?”
Shen Shu nodded. “It is.”
Seeing Shen Shu’s innocent and naive expression, a look that was truly charming, Pei Zizhuo assumed he remained unaware of the crucial danger here and warned him, “You possess fine looks; you should be more careful around here. There is an eccentric here who is not to be provoked.”
Shen Shu’s interest was piqued. Utterly curious about this eccentric of the Divine Land, he pressed on, “Who is that person?”
Pei Zizhuo could not help recalling that frivolous and dissolute letter from over a decade ago, saying with palpable disgust, “Though we have never met, this person’s reputation rings through the nine heavens.”
He looked up at Shen Shu, intending to use Danxiao’s notorious deeds to scare this world-inexperienced youth. Lowering his voice deliberately, he said with an air of mystery, “Do you know Danxiao Sanren?”
“I am Danxiao,” Shen Shu replied cheerfully.
Pei Zizhuo: ???!!!