Leaving the restaurant, Ji Yunlang found a nearby inn to stay for the night.
Before he stepped out, that Hu Ye had originally intended to follow him. However, after being fiercely glared at, the man froze in place, asking him, “You don’t want the kid anymore?”
Husheng was still out playing and hadn’t returned yet.
He had replied, “I don’t want him. Whoever wants him can have him.”
Husheng didn’t know where he was staying; once he played enough, his only choice would be to return to that restaurant.
Ji Yunlang stayed alone in his inn room for most of the night. He felt angry, yet he didn’t even know what he was supposed to be angry about. His mind was entirely blank.
When he was ten years old, he hated everyone and decided to spend his entire life being a cold, indifferent person who would never smile again.
Later, he quietly fell in love with Jiang Zhou. Having something to look forward to, he wanted to work hard to become a normal, reliable person worthy of being trusted.
He had observed Jiang Zhou for many years. His master’s life was incredibly simple: he would sleep through the entire morning, water his flowers upon waking up, and then eat his meals. After eating, he would occasionally come over to teach him how to read and write. He wouldn’t teach for very long before rising, tapping him on the shoulder to let him study on his own, and then going out to the courtyard by himself to tinker with new toys for him.
Ji Yunlang would hold his book, leaning against the windowsill to watch him.
The sun would set and the toy would be finished, but Jiang Zhou was a fool. Even while following a blueprint, he would manage to build some grotesque creature, wasting the entire afternoon for nothing. He would have no choice but to tear it apart and start over.
Cherishing his eyesight, Ji Yunlang didn’t read or practice his sword at night. He would leap out of the window, run to Jiang Zhou’s side, pick up the blueprints, and offer to build it together.
His master was so clumsy; without his guidance from the side, Jiang Zhou wouldn’t even be able to finish a single one in a whole night.
Once the moon came out, Jiang Zhou would always look up at the sky, rub his head, and turn to leave the house.
Ji Yunlang would then wait at the doorway all by himself, holding the grotesque toy and the blueprints.
Sometimes he would return very quickly, sometimes he would have to wait until the dead of night, and sometimes he simply wouldn’t return at all.
Ji Yunlang had secretly followed behind him on more than one occasion, watching him avoid the crowds to descend the mountain, arriving at the shore of a lake that reflected the stars and the moon.
Someone would already be waiting for him there.
Beautiful glass lanterns hung from the pleasure boat moored at the shore. By the light of the lanterns and the moon, Ji Yunlang was able to clearly see that man.
He sat in a wheelchair, his skin incredibly pale and his frame gaunt, turning his head to cough twice after every few words he spoke.
The evening breeze brought a slight chill. Jiang Zhou unfastened his own outer robe to drape it over him, and that person looked up at him warmly, a smile on the corners of his lips.
Then, they boarded the boat together, drifting slowly toward the center of the lake.
Ji Yunlang would stand on the shore, watching them from afar. All he could see were their silhouettes intimately leaning against one another amidst the lantern light. Beneath the moonlight, his master leaned down slightly, his lips falling next to that person’s ear.
Ji Yunlang couldn’t quite explain why he had begun to love Jiang Zhou. Was it from his day-after-day stalking and spying, or was it from those two figures leaning against each other in his mind during countless nights of tossing and turning?
This was a version of Jiang Zhou he had never seen before, gentle, considerate, and elegant. Those eyes, usually so detached, were brimming with deep affection, and his every gesture became refined. One could hardly tell he was a lazy fool who loved to sleep in.
Ji Yunlang thought, Jiang Zhou must love him very much.
Jiang Zhou must love Yun Yan very much.
When he was alone, he couldn’t allow himself to think about these things. The fire of jealousy would burn his chest until it ached, yet Jiang Zhou neither felt sorry for him nor would he come to coax him.
He had already grown up; he could no longer act spoiled or throw tantrums like he did as a child, purposely sustaining severe injuries or falling terribly ill just to make Jiang Zhou panic and feel afraid, forcing him to reject Yun Yan’s invitations that night so he could stay by his side to care for him all night long.
He could only use those filthy, underhanded methods that could never see the light of day to keep Jiang Zhou by his side, constructing an illusion that made it seem as though they were very happy and that Jiang Zhou loved him deeply.
Did Jiang Zhou love him?
Jiang Zhou didn’t love him. The only reason Jiang Zhou had taken the initiative to kiss him when he was seventeen was because he needed a scapegoat to take the blame for the brutal murder of Yun Yan.
Ji Yunlang hadn’t understood back then. In the first flush of love, seeing Jiang Zhou kill Yun Yan with his own hands and throw himself into his arms while wearing wedding robes made him happier than anyone else. He loved Jiang Zhou to death, willingly sinking into that lingering intimacy that hid a deep conspiracy.
The next morning, the embrace was cold, the bed was empty, and two brand-new swords lay beneath the torn wedding robes on the table.
This was the token of love Jiang Zhou had given him, allowing him to slaughter to his heart’s content in the Bafang Region.
He hated Jiang Zhou to death.
The moment he thought of this, his chest ached. He instinctively lowered his head to look at the silver chain on his hand, only to see an entirely empty wrist.
He stared blankly, his head exploding with a loud bang as all his anger and grievances surged up at once.
Jiang Zhou was gone, the chain was lost, and everything was gone.
Something was blocked in his chest, unable to escape. He could no longer maintain his composure. He flipped the table, smashed the teacups, and picked up a sharp piece of broken porcelain, slashing it fiercely across the wrist that had lost its chain.
The sharp pain cleared his mind. The moment his blood flowed out, he seemed to hear a very faint sound from outside, like something scratching at the door.
He allowed the blood from his left wrist to gush outward as he walked to the door and opened it. No one was in front of him.
“Meow.”
Something brushed against his foot.
He lowered his head. A round, pitch-black little kitten was sitting on his shoe, looking up at him. In its mouth, it was holding the silver chain he had thrown out not long ago.
He lowered his eyes, staring expressionlessly at the kitten.
The kitten extended its paw, tugging at his pant leg, and then nimbly climbed upward. When it reached his waist, its mouth holding the chain lightly touched the still-bleeding wound on his left wrist.
A flash of gentle spiritual light passed, the wound slowly healed, and the silver chain automatically draped itself back onto his hand.
The kitten climbed further up his waist. Reaching his chest, it gathered its strength and leaped, landing on his shoulder. Its tail wrapped around the back of his head, and it tilted its head slightly, rubbing its fluffy little face against his cheek as if to comfort him.
Ji Yunlang shut the door, walked back into the room, grabbed the little black ball, and lifted it before his eyes.
Ji Yunlang possessed a pair of sinister purple eyes, while the kitten had a pair of bright black pupils. As their eyes met, those purple eyes suddenly turned fierce. “Speak. Who sent you?”
The kitten blinked its eyes, its front paws fluttering and its hind legs dangling as the entire cat plopped onto his shoulder. It extended its pink little tongue and lightly licked the bite mark on the side of his neck.
A flash of spiritual light passed. The bite mark remained, and nothing happened.
The kitten froze. Refusing to give up, it extended its tongue and licked it again, but still nothing happened.
It let out a wronged “Meow,” its curved, perked-up tail curling inward as it lay motionless on Ji Yunlang’s shoulder.
Ji Yunlang glanced sideways. Out of the corner of his eye, he could only see a chubby cheek that looked round and very fluffy.
He reached out his finger and poked it.
The red moon hung high in the sky.
The moment Jiang Zhou stepped into the Bafang Region, he clutched a barren, branchless tree and retched until his world turned upside down.
Unpleasant. It smelled far too unpleasant.
When exactly would this foul, rotting-flesh-like stench within the Bafang Region finally vanish?
The blood moon shone upon the silver chain around his neck. The black mist originally used as a disguise had already transformed into the kitten and vanished.
Tantan had nagged him for a long time, insisting that he let out that “Meow” before leaping down and running toward the streets, clearly heading off to find Ji Yunlang.
Such a worrisome kitten. The disciple is already so big, staying outside for a single night won’t result in him being tricked by someone.
Then again, maybe it would.
Silly brat. When the five major sects trick him, he can’t even tell, fully believing his master would definitely go to Penglai Island.
It was just as well for Tantan to follow him, keeping him from impulsively running over tonight and falling into who-knows-what kind of trap.
Carrying his blade on his back, he walked through the black sands. Before he even reached the Wuchang Bridge, he was called out to by a group of fierce and sinister-looking thugs.
He stopped his pace, reluctantly drew his blade, and couldn’t help but think that times had truly changed.
The people who recognized him had long since died out. The combat achievements he and Tantan had accumulated over the past hundred years were completely useless now. At this moment, he was merely a fresh, tender lamb who had just entered the Bafang Region; if he wanted to stay alive, he had to find a way to prove himself.
After reluctantly proving himself, he wanted to reach into his Qiankun bag to pull something out to wipe the blood off his blade, but accidentally felt the pink handkerchief Ji Yunlang had hidden in his robes.
He brought it before his eyes, examining it beneath the blood moon.
It was ordinarily pretty, average in its fragrance, and the little flowers on it looked like nothing special after staring at them for a while.
He stuffed it back in.
Isn’t it just embroidering a handkerchief? What’s so difficult about that? As if there’s anyone who can’t learn.
He first went to the Senluo Beast Bone Palace. The Bone Dragon was incredibly vigilant; sensing someone approaching, it let out a massive roar and rushed to the entrance, its mouth clamping right over his entire head.
The sharp, skeletal teeth bit down until Jiang Zhou’s forehead and chin both ached. He tapped the Bone Dragon’s head with the hilt of his blade.
The Bone Dragon had been prepared to chew him up, but hearing the crisp sound produced by the hilt tapping its head, the entire dragon was startled. It hurriedly opened its mouth, releasing the head it had clamped down upon.
“Roar!”
“Oh roar roar! Oh roar oh roar!”
Having clearly recognized his face, the Bone Dragon began to roar excitedly, wildly thrashing its tail to coil around his entire body as its hard dragon head frantically rubbed against his face.
The dragon head rubbed until his face ached, yet Jiang Zhou felt satisfied inside.
This was his beloved pet, arrogant, overbearing, with a rigid, sturdy build, and a roar full of vitality.
If only Tantan could be this cool.
The entire cat was soft and mushy, usually letting out a few meows in a strained, delicate voice, looking completely weak at first glance.
Even the weak Tantan could accompany him to dominate the barren wilderness; if he had the Bone Dragon by his side back then, Jiang Zhou couldn’t even imagine how many Immortal Regions he could have conquered.
He wandered around inside the Senluo Beast Bone Palace. The outer hall was quite empty with nothing inside, and it was only upon entering the inner hall that traces of someone living there could be found.
In a corner of the room stood a large chest. Jiang Zhou possessed absolutely no self-awareness about not touching other people’s belongings, walking straight over.
What item of Ji Yunlang’s had he not seen before?
He lifted the lid of the chest.
An entire chest was filled with a neat arrangement of all the toys he had ever made for Ji Yunlang from childhood to adulthood. There were completed ones, ruined ones, and a thick stack of blueprints pressed down underneath.
Further down were several sheets of paper that had long since grown old, a few somewhat damaged brushes, and two ordinary swords.
Teaching Ji Yunlang characters during his childhood, making toys for him, and watching him practice his sword, day after day, over and over again, their life had simply been like that.
If one had to say when a difference had emerged.
Jiang Zhou saw a stack of red fabric folded squarely, pressed down into a corner of the chest.
He unfurled it to take a look, recognizing the familiar embroidery. It was also red fabric, also gold thread, identical to the embroidery on Ji Yunlang’s clothes.
This stack of fabric had been folded squarely. Jiang Zhou wanted to put it back, but had no way to fold it exactly as it had been originally. He could only do his best, finally giving it two symbolic pats. Feeling it was close enough, he returned it to its original place.
He hadn’t lived in the Senluo Beast Bone Palace before and felt nothing toward this place. After looking through Ji Yunlang’s things, he lost interest and stepped out to leave.
The Bone Dragon wanted to follow him, but he pressed it back down, tapping its head with the hilt of his blade as he said, “Watch the house properly.”
The Bone Dragon used to be his ferocious beast, but ever since he got Tantan, he no longer used the Bone Dragon.
However, he hadn’t walked very far out of the Senluo Beast Bone Palace before he nearly lost his way amidst the boundless black sands. Spinning around in place, he felt as though every single direction looked identical, entirely sand, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.
Having stayed away for too long, he could no longer recognize the paths clearly.
From the branchless tree above his head came a “Hmph.” The voice was steady and carried no emotion, appearing to have been uttered solely to serve as a sound to remind him.
Without needing to look up, he kicked a stone beneath his foot, launching it toward the person at the top of the tree.
Simultaneously, several broken tree branches crashed down toward him from above.
The two of them avoided each other’s attacks at the same time, and the person on the tree leaped down, standing before him.
“If you didn’t show yourself soon,” Feng Xun spoke first, “I would have thought Hua Jia had broken out of his grave.”
From his perspective standing on the tree just now, he could happen to see the Senluo Beast Bone Palace and the suspicious silhouette that had rashly broken inside.
Jiang Zhou shook his head. “He can’t break out; he was fed to the cat.” He added, “You are still alive.”
Feng Xun: “Since you haven’t died yet, I won’t die.”
These words sounded ambiguous, and Jiang Zhou very conspicuously took a step away from him.
Feng Xun’s brow furrowed imperceptibly. “Men are disgusting.”
Following that, his gaze locked onto the silver chain around his neck. Taking a large stride forward, he leaned in close and sniffed.
Jiang Zhou: “You are the one who is disgusting.”
Feng Xun used a single hand to lift the silver chain around his neck, lowering his eyes to examine it. “That young new lord is he the child of Jiang Shishui and Yun Zhengyue?”
Jiang Zhou: “Mhm.”
“No wonder he carries their scent on his person,” Feng Xun yanked at that chain of his, lifting his deep, dark eyes to look at him. “He also carries your scent.”
Jiang Zhou finally revealed his first smile of the night.
The five fingers Feng Xun used to grip his chain tightened as he asked slowly, “Are you very proud of yourself?”
Of course he was proud. Not only was he proud, but he also felt very sweet inside.
He had gotten the son of Jiang Shishui and Yun Zhengyue. He had originally thought he could only ever be proud of it alone in the depths of his heart, never expecting that Feng Xun would still be alive.
Now there was a second person who knew.
Jiang Zhou felt even prouder.
Unable to snap his chain, Feng Xun delivered a punch, striking him across the face.
Jiang Zhou spat out a mouthful of blood and drew his blade. “I should bury you together with Hua Jia.”
With a single strike of his blade, he shattered the pair of locking rings around Feng Xun’s wrists.
Feng Xun snatched his blade away, severing the locks around his own two feet in a couple of strokes before tossing the blade back to him.
A year after Ji Yunlang entered the Bafang Region, Jiang Zhou had come to find him; it was during that time that he had killed the former lord within the Senluo Beast Bone Palace, Hua Jia.
At that time, he hadn’t known Feng Xun was still alive, otherwise Jiang Zhou would have killed him along with the other.
Holding the two broken locking rings, Feng Xun looked toward the blood moon at the horizon, saying to him, “The Moon Eclipse Day has disappeared for a second time. Are those people of the Immortal Region afraid again?”
“Mhm.”
That cowardly crowd of the five major sects merely opening the passage from the Bafang Region to the Immortal Region could make their legs go weak. Once they found out whose blood flowed within Ji Yunlang’s veins, there was no telling how terrified they would become.
Jiang Zhou asked him, “Is there anyone we can use?”
Jiang Zhou was unfamiliar with this new batch of people in the Bafang Region. From the looks of it, Feng Xun had only broken out a few days ago, so he likely wouldn’t be much more familiar either.
Feng Xun said, “The Second Regional Lord. He has captured many residents of the Immortal Region into the Bafang Region.”
Ji Yunlang and Lou Sha were both waiting for Feng Xun to kill Sagu Man, but he had dragged it out until now without taking action.
Sagu Man wanted to become the lord and also wanted to storm the Immortal Region; to him, the people of the Immortal Region were merely ants beneath his hands and rotting mud under his boots. Keeping such a person around would be of great use.
Jiang Zhou nodded. “Find an opportunity to.”
Jiang Zhou choked on his words, and Feng Xun quietly waited for him to finish.
After waiting for a long while, he couldn’t get the words out.
Jiang Zhou wanted to write it down for him, but remembering that Feng Xun was illiterate, he stared at him without a word, using his eyes to ask: Do you understand?
Feng Xun stared back at him indifferently. After a moment, he completed his words: “Find an opportunity to let him into the Immortal Region.”
Jiang Zhou nodded.
He couldn’t obtain the new roster for the time being, meaning he had no way to use that scroll capable of manipulating people at will to incite the Bafang Region’s wrath against the five major sects.
Fortunately, the Bafang Region was inherently a place that bred scoundrels; even without any reason, they could still run off to the Immortal Region to cause trouble.
Emerging from the Bafang Region, Jiang Zhou first cleansed himself of the thick aura of blood covering his body.
He returned to the restaurant to check on things. The sky was nearly bright, yet Lin Xiao and Husheng were actually huddled at a table eating away, even calling out the establishment’s head chef to offer their critiques while they ate.
The head chef carried dark circles under his eyes as he yawned, listening to their rambling while nodding continuously.
Jiang Zhou cast a few glances from the doorway but didn’t enter.
Sensing Tantan’s presence, he tracked it down. At the moment when the sky was just beginning to turn bright and the streets were still entirely empty, he scaled the window of the inn’s second floor.
Upon entering, he saw the entire room in utter disarray an overturned table, smashed teacups, and a pool of dried blood on the floor along with blood-stained pieces of broken porcelain.
Jiang Zhou stepped past the chaotic mess on the floor and walked to the bedside. Ji Yunlang was fast asleep, more than half of the blanket pressed beneath his body. He was wearing his outer robes, which were still stained with blood.
Tantan was nestled beside his head, curling itself into a small ball.
Jiang Zhou felt puzzled. Ji Yunlang was rarely this unmindful, letting himself get into such a wretched state, let alone falling asleep in such an environment.
The moment he drew close, Tantan opened its eyes, lifting its paw to tug at Ji Yunlang’s hair, emitting a gentle wave of spiritual light.
At this, Jiang Zhou understood. Ji Yunlang hadn’t fallen asleep on his own; he had been lulled to sleep by Tantan.
He checked Ji Yunlang’s body from head to toe, confirming there were no injuries before letting out a sigh of relief. The blood staining the room and his body must belong to someone else.
Jiang Zhou lifted Tantan, letting it dissolve into black mist to transform back into his neck ring. Looking at the sky outside the window, he felt it was still early, so he set to work peeling off Ji Yunlang’s outer robes.
During his movements, the front collar of his inner robes became disheveled. He first stared at it for a moment, expressionlessly continuing to strip his clothes.
The front collar had already become loose, and with this movement, it opened even wider.
Jiang Zhou neatly removed his outer robes and placed them aside. Thinking to himself that the clothes had opened on their own and that it couldn’t be blamed on him, his hand followed his heart, gently brushing across the bare chest. Following that, he tucked the front collar back together for him, preparing to pull up the blanket to let him sleep a while longer.
Just as he extracted a corner of the blanket from beneath Ji Yunlang’s body, the person on the couch abruptly opened his eyes, his purple pupils fierce as he asked, “What are you doing?”
Jiang Zhou shook the blanket. “Afraid you would be cold.”
Ji Yunlang lowered his eyes to look at his mysteriously missing outer robes and the bizarre, chaotic mess of his inner collar fabric, sneering, “It is indeed quite cold.”
Jiang Zhou pulled the blanket over him, leaving only his head exposed outside, and said, “Sleep.”
Ji Yunlang looked toward both sides of the bed and asked, “Where is the kitten?”
Jiang Zhou: “What kitten?”
“Never mind,” Ji Yunlang’s gaze shifted to his face. “With you staying this close to me, I can’t sleep.”
Jiang Zhou walked to the center of the room, straightened a chair, and sat down, creating distance between them.
Ji Yunlang: “With you inside the room, I can’t sleep.”
Jiang Zhou leaped out of the window, vaulting onto the nearest tree. Sitting on the tree, he looked at him through the window.
Ji Yunlang tilted his head within the blanket, staring back at him from afar with an unruffled expression.
Then he said, “With you watching me, I can’t sleep.”
Being so far away, Jiang Zhou couldn’t hear him.
In truth, Jiang Zhou could hear him perfectly well, but he put on an appearance of being unable to hear, his eyes staring at Ji Yunlang without blinking for even a second.
Ji Yunlang exchanged stares with him for a while, then grabbed the blanket and fiercely pulled it over his head.
So annoying!