Three figures flashed inside, their silhouettes outlined by the pale moonlight.
Judging by their builds, they were precisely those cultivators from earlier today!
The one on the far right still had gauze wrapped around his hand. He hunted geese all day, only to be pecked in the eyes by a goose today. Feeling deeply humiliated, his eyes were filled with malice. Another man nearby was pinching a hand seal, seemingly cutting off any sound, while a third held a talisman in his hand.
“Beauty,” the leader lowered his voice and laughed, “Where is that fledgling from earlier today? Hand it over, and we few will be a bit more gentle.”
He wore a thoroughly fearless expression, evidently relying on some trump card.
Rong Xuanhe shrank toward the corner of the bed, his back pressing against the cold wall as he tried to steady his voice, “You dare make a move here, aren’t you afraid the innkeeper will report you to the authorities?”
“Report to the authorities?”
That man laughed heartily as if hearing some huge joke, “This God-forsaken place doesn’t even have a proper constable, who’s going to care about you?”
As he spoke, he lunged forward, reaching out to rip open Rong Xuanhe’s collar, “Serve me well, and I’ll grant you a quick end!”
With a loud bang, the neighboring door was kicked open. The child servant rushed out, shouting aloud, “What are you doing?”
He swung his horsetail whisk, but was blocked by the talisman-wielding cultivator.
The child servant paused for a second, then said angrily, “An impenetrable talisman? Do you think this gives you the right to do whatever you please?”
He struck an opening stance. The leading cultivator raised his hand and struck out with a wave of energy, driving him back two steps and nearly knocking the whisk from his grasp.
The uninjured hand of the cultivator now held a jade ring, with a ghostly light revolving around it. At a glance, it was clearly a high-grade magical treasure.
“So what if we do whatever we please?” The leader sneered, his gaze falling onto Rong Xuanhe like a hunter looking at easy prey, “Once I’m done dealing with this little beauty, I’ll deal with you next!”
He pounced toward Rong Xuanhe. Rong Xuanhe retreated step by step toward the window. His sash was tugged, causing his whole body to sway, and immediately afterward he was forcibly pulled forward.
“Be obedient and come here!”
The young man dodged the hand reaching for his waist, shedding his outer robe at top speed. Clutching the bird, he prepared to leap out the window and flee.
Unexpectedly, a commotion erupted from within his chest. The little white bird suddenly burst out from his embrace, spread its wings, and launched a direct aerial assault.
[Ding-dong! Detected that the host is in mortal danger. 300 affection points have been consumed to trigger the Husband, Please Come to My Aid effect.]
“Don’t you always act on your own accord!”
Rong Xuanhe reached out to grab it, but caught only a handful of air.
No one saw how it struck.
With several miserable cries ringing out in succession, the talisman-wielding cultivator was sent flying straight out, shattering the door panel and crashing heavily onto the corridor floor without moving an inch.
Following closely was the crisp sound of shattering jade. Just as the lead cultivator wanted to cast a spell, his wrist was instantly pierced through by a white feather, blood splashing everywhere.
This was far more painful than being pecked by a bird. He opened his mouth to cry out in agony, and a heavy blow landed across his face, sending him flipping sideways with a mouthful of bloody froth, several teeth loosening instantly.
The cultivator who had been fighting the child servant turned to run, but the little white bird landed right on top of his head. The cultivator dropped heavily to his knees, bloody trails streaming down his face.
Clean, neat, and hitting the target in a single stroke.
The room abruptly fell silent. Rong Xuanhe stared dumbfoundedly at the littered mess all around.
In just a few brief breaths, all three cultivators were paralyzed on the ground, some with broken hands, others vomiting blood, unable even to crawl.
The young man swallowed hard, looking toward the small bird hovering in midair with trepidation.
He had just been pressing this ancestor into his embrace, treating it like a mosquito guarding a cannon. If the little white bird were a person, it probably would have laughed him to scorn, right?
The lead cultivator struggled to raise his head, still clutching Rong Xuanhe’s outer robe in his hand, staring at Rong Xuanhe with bloodshot eyes, “Bah! Do you know who my master is? Do you think you’re safe just because of this beast? Let me tell you, my master is a Golden Core cultivator, and you’re dead meat! Neither you nor this wretched bird will escape. When the time comes, I’ll cripple your meridians and throw you out.”
The next instant, a majestic wave of pressure descended from the skies, abruptly cutting off all his subsequent words.
Everyone sensed that oppressive aura.
It arrived from outside the inn, traveling from afar to close proximity, descending upon their heads within a mere few breaths like an invisible mountain pressing down heavily.
The expressions of the three cultivators instantly turned deathly pale.
Simultaneously, unhurried footsteps sounded from the end of the corridor.
With one foot already stepped onto the window frame, Rong Xuanhe resisted the urge to jump down and cautiously turned to look.
Moonlight spilled forth, and a figure emerged from the shadows.
He wore a jade crown and long hair, his brows and eyes as frosty as snow. His pristine white robes fluttered without wind, and merely standing there caused the air throughout the entire room to stagnate.
“You… who are you!”
The lead cultivator couldn’t help trembling.
Su Wenchuan’s indifferent gaze fell upon him, completely devoid of ripples as if looking at a corpse.
Then, his line of sight drifted past them and landed on Rong Xuanhe by the window.
Half of the young man’s body was leaned out of the window. His inner garment had been disheveled during the earlier tug-of-war, revealing a stretch of pale collarbone, and his hair was scattered with a few strands trailing beside his face, making him look both disheveled and fragile.
He looked up at the newcomer, his gaze filled with careful caution.
A barely perceptible frown creased Su Wenchuan’s brow.
“Where are you hurt?” he asked in a deep voice.
Rong Xuanhe stiffly shook his head, terrified that speaking would lead to bloodshed on the spot, as he had zero doubts that this God of Slaughter was capable of committing murder right then and there.
Realizing things were going poorly, the lead cultivator’s lips moved silently for a few moments as if urging an incantation. The outer robe of Rong Xuanhe tightly gripped in his hand ignited with green ghostly flames, looking as though the eerie light was about to fly out of the room.
Before it even passed Su Wenchuan, it was intercepted midway and cut off.
He turned to crawl a few steps, only to be instantly gripped by an invisible giant palm, smashing heavily against the wall before falling back down with no breath left in him.
The other two shook violently from head to toe, unable even to emit a scream as dark wet patches stained the crotches of their pants.
Recovering his wits, the child servant adjusted his horsetail whisk and bowed, “Exalted Lord.”
Su Wenchuan said indifferently, “Clean it up.”
With that, he closed the door, a sweep of spiritual energy gathering to seal the stench of blood and the messy carnage outside the door.
The white-robed man walked over, hauled Rong Xuanhe back onto the bed from the window, and stood firm by the edge of the mattress, looking down condescendingly at the tightly curled-up youth.
“Scared?” he asked.
Rong Xuanhe shuddered uncontrollably, subconsciously forcing out a smile, “Not scared.”
Su Wenchuan watched him for a moment, then bent down, raising a hand to tuck the stray locks of hair behind his ear. His thumb brushed past Rong Xuanhe’s earlobe, his voice remaining indifferent, “Lying.”
Rong Xuanhe lowered his eyes. Having shaken to this extent, the instinct for survival still kept him stubbornly putting up a front, “I’ve just never seen anyone killed before, so I’m a bit startled. Ah, I don’t mean you were wrong, that person deserved what he got, but just…”
He couldn’t continue. Seeing that Su Wenchuan looked as if he intended to sit down, he grew so frightened that the rims of his eyes turned red.
The young man instinctively curled inward, forgetting that he had already retreated to the innermost part of the bed with no further ground to spare. He pressed his head down desperately, wishing he could embed himself right into the wall like an overly frightened rabbit.
Su Wenchuan pressed a hand onto his knee, noticing him trembling even more violently, and furrowed his brows slightly, “That man isn’t dead.”
“I… Ah?”
Rong Xuanhe froze.
He blinked twice, finding it hard to believe what he heard.
“In your eyes, am I really such a tyrannical and bloodthirsty heretic?” Su Wenchuan pinched his chin, fixing his gaze squarely upon him.
The youth met his gaze for two seconds, then guiltily muttered, “No.”
Actually, yes.
In a cultivation world where the strong ruled supreme, killing someone or seizing treasures was probably as natural as breathing.
Yet before transmigrating, Rong Xuanhe happened to be a coward who didn’t even dare enter haunted escape rooms. Seeing someone get flicked away like a fly left him terrified that Su Wenchuan might send him flying in the same manner.
Su Wenchuan stared straight at him, “Still lying.”
Rong Xuanhe grew somewhat flustered, blurting out incoherently in defense, “I’m really not scared! Does my opinion matter that much to you? It’s just tidying up a few people anyway, I didn’t think like that at all. Besides, you even… you…”
He stammered for ages, ultimately not daring to finish the rest of his sentence.
He wanted to say that Su Wenchuan already had a dao companion, so why care so much about the thoughts of a mere mortal like him?
Su Wenchuan withdrew his hand from his chin and turned to close the window, looking very much like he intended to stay.
Rong Xuanhe bit his lip, silently shuffling inward to make space.
He couldn’t think of how to refuse sharing a bed.
Although he was the one who had initiated asking to spend a romantic night together, after Su Wenchuan scolded him yesterday, the man didn’t seem to have any intention of refusing this arrangement either.
Double standards, two-faced, you can’t judge a book by its cover.
Rong Xuanhe scolded him secretly in his heart, looked around left and right, and belatedly noticed something, “Senior, your messenger bird seems to be missing.”
Considering it was a life-saving bird that protected him after all, he hadn’t even noticed when it disappeared.
“Don’t mind it.”
Su Wenchuan removed his outer robe and walked back to the bedside.
Right at that moment, a soft rumble broke the quietness of the room.
Two pairs of eyes locked onto one another. Rong Xuanhe’s face flushed red, and he lowered his head to mumble softly, “I’m a bit hungry.”
To meet camera standards, he had long been accustomed to eating sparingly, never imagining he would be uprooted before getting popular, tossed into an entirely different world and body.
Su Wenchuan produced a jade bottle, tipping out a white pill, “Eat it.”
Rong Xuanhe took it and looked it over, “What is this?”
Without answering, Su Wenchuan pressed it directly against his lips. He had no choice but to take it by partaking from the other man’s hand. It tasted like nothing, nor did it offer any sensation of fullness.
Just as he wanted to ask further, a wave of hypnotic sleepiness suddenly washed over him.
Rong Xuanhe’s final thought was, why is this a sleeping pill?
[Note: The system goes silent.]
Su Wenchuan caught the falling youth and pulled the quilt over him.
With his eyes closed, the earlier trepidation vanished completely. His full lips were pressed together, his chest heaving slightly, displaying a rare sense of peaceful tranquility.
The man’s hazel eyes stared for a moment, then he lay down beside him, drawing the youth’s soft, slender form half into his embrace.
The youth harbored not an ounce of defense, leaning obediently against his chest with his cheek pressed against his ribs, squeezing out a hint of soft flesh.
Su Wenchuan placed a finger on his pulse, extremely cautiously channeling his own spiritual energy inside, letting it circulate alongside that gentle medicinal power.
The youth offered no rejection. This vessel was completely empty, with not a shred of spiritual energy within its meridians, a purely mortal body.
Yet under the dual baptism of spiritual energy and medicine, it did not grow any tougher. Once the spiritual energy passed through, nothing was left_blank.
Su Wenchuan furrowed his brow.
Simultaneously, faint red patterns surfaced across the youth’s wrists.