Su Wenchuan had a Dao companion.
Rong Xuanhe was completely baffled by this statement.
He struggled to process it for a moment, asking blankly, “Then why is he still…”
Still making him call him husband.
Was it because the cultivation world allowed multiple Dao companions legally? Or was it that Su Wenchuan never intended to truly make him a Dao companion, but rather some sort of much shadier, illicit lover?
Rong Xuanhe’s mind was in a chaotic mess. He certainly did not want to become someone else’s lover, nor did he want to be reduced to cannon fodder in a melodramatic script.
“What?” the attendant asked.
Rong Xuanhe shook his head, lowering his gaze: “It’s nothing. I probably misunderstood.”
Perhaps Su Wenchuan was just one of those playboys whose outer appearance masked a deceitful heart?
Observing his expression, the attendant probed cautiously, “Are you afraid the Honored Lord will fail you?”
“How could it possibly be as serious as failing me?”
Rong Xuanhe forced a smile, deeply reluctant to admit that he might have been brought back as a lover.
If that really was the case, he had better find a way to make a clean break as soon as possible.
The attendant seemed to understand, saying in a low voice, “Actually, the Honored Lord’s Dao companion has long since…”
Before he could finish, the sound of flapping wings came from the horizon.
A small, pure white bird flew straight down toward the two of them. Its feathers were like crystallized frost and snow, its posture elegant and light, and its eyes a pale gold, translucent like colored glass, looking too pretty to be a mortal creature.
The attendant hurriedly produced an unnamed tree branch, and the bird landed steadily upon it, lowering its head to quack twice.
Judging by its appearance, it turned out to be a crow.
Rong Xuanhe had never seen a white crow before, so he found it rather novel. He made whistling sounds and reached out to tease it.
“Young Master, you must not!” The attendant was pale with fright and hastily stopped him: “This is the Honored Lord’s, a messenger bird!”
To everyone’s surprise, Rong Xuanhe’s hand had already reached right in front of the bird: “Ah?”
He quickly pulled it back, terrified that this little ancestor might peck him a good one.
The bird cast a sidelong glance at him, haughtily lifting its head and hopping along the branch, completely ignoring him.
The attendant raised the branch a bit higher and asked respectfully, “My lord, do you have any instructions?”
Rong Xuanhe stroked his chin, thinking to himself that this was truly a case of a bird borrowing the might of its master; having a powerful owner meant even a bird could be addressed as my lord.
After a few low, rapid cries of communication, the attendant nodded repeatedly: “Understood, my lord. I understand.”
He turned to Rong Xuanhe: “The Honored Lord has matters to attend to. Tonight, I will accompany you to stay at a nearby town.”
“Oh, okay.” Rong Xuanhe was somewhat surprised, then asked, “Then when is he coming back?”
He wouldn’t decide not to come back, would he?
The attendant replied, “The Honored Lord’s whereabouts have always been erratic. I suppose…”
The white crow let out a couple of cries.
The attendant immediately and smoothly corrected himself: “I suppose he will be back tomorrow.”
Rong Xuanhe gave the white crow a surprised look: “Can you guys communicate in real time?”
The white crow turned its body around, arrogantly presenting its rear end to him.
The attendant chuckled: “The Honored Lord’s messenger bird naturally possesses immense spiritual awareness. You need not worry, Young Master; the Honored Lord is not the fickle sort and will surely return on schedule. You need only travel the same road with me.”
Below them, the mountains were deep and dense with forests while the carriage flew through the skies. Rong Xuanhe had nowhere to run even if he wanted to, so he had no choice but to retreat back into the carriage cabin.
Just as the cabin door was about to close, the white crow suddenly flew up from the branch, flapping its wings to land on his shoulder.
Rong Xuanhe instantly felt a sense of flattered surprise. Carefully nudging the bird’s claws with his fingertips, he muttered, “You won’t peck me, will you?”
The moment the words left his mouth, the bird’s beak pecked right at his hair.
“Hey, stop messing around!”
The youth dodged a few times, but this little creature instead doubled down, its beak pecking back and forth around his ear. Although it didn’t hurt, Rong Xuanhe was terrified it would peck a bloody hole into his ear the next second.
He vaguely recalled reading online that corvids were extremely vengeful and very smart.
Birds in the cultivation world were surely even smarter, perhaps even capable of cultivating into human form. Had he offended this bird somewhere along the way?
Rong Xuanhe tried his best to rescue his pitiful strands of hair from its beak, whispering, “Stop pecking, stop pecking. I’ll catch some bugs for you to eat later, okay? Bugs probably can’t cultivate into immortals, right? Or do you eat meat?”
Whether it was his imagination or not, after asking that question, he was pecked even more fiercely.
Rong Xuanhe had no choice but to raise his hands to block. His ears were pecked bright red, and he held his hands protectively around his head in a disheveled manner, shoulders hunched, curling his entire body up. He looked as though he was afraid of being beaten by someone, pitiful to the max.
The white crow finally stopped its gentle pecking, tilted its head to look at him, and suddenly dove headfirst into his arms.
Nine Springs Below, Fengdu.
By the waters of Ruoshui stood two figures, one black and one white.
The figure in white had a stern expression and a faintly transparent physique. It was not his true body, but a separated divine soul.
The figure in black was half a head shorter, holding a red umbrella. His appearance was delicate and fragile, hovering between youth and manhood, with an unshakeable gloom lingering between his brows and eyes.
“Xiao Linye.” Su Wenchuan narrowed his eyes, his voice as cold as ice: “Do not stretch your ghostly claws toward someone you shouldn’t touch.”
The man in black gave a light, cold laugh: “Is that so?”
Lifting the outer corners of his eyes, he leisurely strolled two circles around the other man, speaking as if quite casually: “A new ghost arrived at the Underworld yesterday, weeping and crying injustice. Coincidentally, I had nothing to do, so I went to listen. And what I heard was quite extraordinary.”
He stopped his steps and turned his head back. His eyes suddenly transformed into pure black, welling up with terrifying blood-red tears.
“A lowly brothel attendant actually carries A Rong’s aura on him. Tell me, isn’t that strange?”
Su Wenchuan’s face remained expressionless. Seeing this, Xiao Linye’s smile widened. The blood tears streamed down, vanishing before they even hit the ground: “I originally thought it was just another fake, but seeing that you would rather separate your divine soul just to issue a warning, now I’m certain.”
“Certain of what? Certain that you’ve arrived late again?” Su Wenchuan’s voice was exceedingly flat, his gaze cold: “You are not worthy.”
Xiao Linye’s expression sank: “Stop acting so self-righteous here! Are you worthy?”
He turned around abruptly, grinding his teeth: “You coaxed him into a soul-bond just to deceive yourself into thinking he likes you? Deceive yourself all you want, but don’t actually mistake it for the real thing!”
Su Wenchuan said indifferently: “The person he formed a soul-bond with is not you, and the first person he saw upon returning was not you either. Based on that alone, is it enough?”
The air fell silent for an instant. The Ruoshui waters churned violently, and Xiao Linye gripped the handle of his umbrella so hard that the bones in his knuckles cracked audibly.
With a fierce swing of his red umbrella, the surrounding Manjusshava flowers instantly withered into gray ash.
“When my split soul returns to its vessel, I will surely go find him!”
With those words, his figure dissipated along with the flying ash.
Night fell, and the carriage touched down, taking temporary lodging in a nearby town.
The attendant opened two rooms at the inn, one for himself and one for Rong Xuanhe.
Oh, and there was also that little white bird.
Ever since the white bird landed on Rong Xuanhe’s shoulder, it refused to go anywhere else. It closed its eyes as if sleeping, its fluffy body pressed against his cheek, and its warm breath made him feel somewhat more at ease.
Rong Xuanhe lightened his steps, terrified of startling it.
The youth had a slender build and delicate features. With his sash fluttering in the wind, his stunning appearance instantly drew the gazes of many as he stepped into the inn.
Outsiders were rare in a town like this, and while it wasn’t strange to see cultivators traveling north and south, this youth had a floating, unstable gait, clearly not someone who practiced cultivation, yet the bird on his shoulder looked at a glance like no ordinary creature.
Someone whistled and grinned as he sidled over: “Yo, where is this young master from?”
Meeting the man’s gaze, Rong Xuanhe couldn’t help but step back half a step.
He was far too familiar with this kind of covetous, greedy look; he had seen plenty of it just yesterday at the Golden Pavilion.
“I…”
Before he could even start, the attendant walked over and cut him off: “Young master, the rooms have already been secured.”
Unobtrusively, the attendant blocked Rong Xuanhe behind him, but because he was too short, he completely failed to block the man’s lingering, greasy gaze.
The man paid him no mind, shifting his gaze back to Rong Xuanhe with a rakish smile: “Young master is staying here tonight too? What a coincidence, I’m staying here as well. Care to join me for a cup of wine?”
He wore several storage rings on his hands, and his clothes featured rune-like dark patterns. His outfit was opulent and extravagant, indicating his identity was far from simple.
Several other cultivators gathered around as well, chiming in all at once:
“Young Master Zhao hails from the Luofu Zhao clan. You might as well make his acquaintance; more friends mean more paths, right?”
“Indeed so! Young master looks like someone from a prominent family as well, with immortal features and an otherworldly aura. We admire you deeply in our hearts.”
“Which realm did young master bring this spirit pet from? It’s rather small and cute; I wonder how many spiritual stones it’s worth?”
The last cultivator reached out to touch it as he spoke. Halfway through, he suddenly let out a miserable shriek: “Ah!”
The white crow opened its eyes at some point, a faint golden gleam revolving within its pupils.
Right on the back of that cultivator’s hand appeared a bloody hole the size of an eye, with fresh blood gushing out rapidly, looking quite terrifying.
Pointing a trembling finger at Rong Xuanhe, his face turning from pale to flushed with rage, he shouted, “I wanted to make friends with you out of kindness, and if you didn’t appreciate it, fine, but why set your bird on me to hurt people?”
Rong Xuanhe’s heart skipped a beat, fearing he had run into con artists staging an injury: “Clearly you were the one reaching out to tease the bird, don’t play the victim and accuse others first!”
The attendant also dropped his face into a cold mask, forming seals with his hands and preparing to strike at any moment: “Who are you people? How dare you act wild here?”
The aura emanating from him secretly shocked the surrounding cultivators. They hadn’t expected these two to look like soft persimmons while the attendant’s actual strength was not inferior to their own.
The innkeeper came over with a bitter expression, trembling as he tried to mediate: “My lords, let’s talk this over properly! My humble little business can’t withstand you lords tossing it around! I beg you all to consider that there are mortals in the inn and please, do not resort to violence!”
Although cultivators were not permitted to attack mortals without cause, the mortals in the inn had already scuttled off to the side with nervous expressions.
After a brief battle of gazes between the two sides, the white bird’s sharp eyes remained fixed on them, making people’s backs crawl with chill.
Clutching the back of his hand, the injured cultivator finally let out a heavy snort: “You guys just wait!”
With that, the leader waved his hand, and the group swaggered away.
Rong Xuanhe had a gut feeling they wouldn’t let it go, and said anxiously, “Should we switch to another inn?”
The attendant replied, “This is the only inn in town. Don’t worry, Young master, I’ll be meditating right next door and will certainly come to assist if anything happens.”
Rong Xuanhe had no choice but to finish his evening meal, return to his room, and bolt the door shut.
The heavy shroud of night descended, the noises gradually faded, and the town plunged into a quiet stillness.
Rong Xuanhe lay on the bed with his eyes open, staring up at the roof beams.
The little white bird curled up beside his pillow, its fluffy body pressed against his cheek, and its warm breathing helped set his mind somewhat at ease.
He turned onto his side, gently stroking the white bird’s feathers with his fingertips. As he stroked, a sudden wave of confusion washed over him.
Someone who had been bought, whose life was in another’s hands, what use was fear at this point?
He didn’t know what he was actually supposed to do, what use he had, or how he was going to handle things after returning to that so-called Cangyi Mountain with Su Wenchuan. It felt as though his time-travel was just a farce, running around like a headless fly manipulated and played with by the system, rescuing a fallen woman one second, pretending to be in a sweet romance the next.
With such thoughts, the youth couldn’t help muttering aloud: “He won’t really throw me away, will he?”
What if the attendant disappeared by tomorrow morning too?
The white bird opened a slit of an eye, tilted its head, stretched out its neck, and started pecking at his hair again.
Rong Xuanhe caught it. Just then, a strange sound rang out.
It wasn’t the wind, nor the friction of leaves. It sounded like footsteps.
Rong Xuanhe sat straight up, quickly tapping against the wall.
He had no idea if the attendant next door could hear. His heart raced, his fingers trembling as he felt around for the little white bird by the pillow, shoving it straight into his embrace.
The white bird struggled slightly before being pressed down even tighter by him.
“Don’t move,” he whispered under his breath.
The door latch was being picked open from the outside.