A featherlike leaf from the Wusang tree drifted silently down, landing on Mu Hanzhang’s left eye. Lying on the ground, he reached up to remove the green leaf, closing his eyes as he recalled what had just happened.
When fighting that corpse, his demonic aura had leaked—and Qu Xiangxiang had seen it.
At the thought, Mu Hanzhang’s eyes snapped open. His phoenix eyes were cold as ice and snow, faintly glimmering with killing intent. He drove his sword into the ground beside him, using it for leverage to push himself upright, scanning the surroundings quickly.
Qu Xiangxiang lay not far away, clutching the Zhuoyue Whip, hair disheveled, unconscious.
There was no one else here.
“Qu Xiangxiang?” Mu Hanzhang stepped lightly, testing her name aloud.
No response.
He crouched, pressing his long, bony fingers against her neck. Her throat was slender and pale, warm and delicate to the touch. He could feel the fragile pulse beneath the thin skin. With just a little pressure, this woman would die here—silently, without a trace.
His eyes were cold, devoid of emotion. His hand tightened slowly, watching with satisfaction as her face reddened from lack of breath.
Suddenly, Qu Xiangxiang coughed violently. His gaze darkened, and before she opened her eyes, he withdrew his hand.
“Mu Hanzhang?” She sat up with difficulty, seemingly unaware he had just tried to kill her. Tilting her head proudly, she smiled. “If I hadn’t saved you, you’d already be dead at that corpse’s hands.”
Her warmth lingered in his palm. Mu Hanzhang faltered slightly, his gaze sharpening with subtle scrutiny. “You saved me?”
“If I hadn’t thrown that fire talisman and dragged you to run, you’d be gone.” She huffed.
“Dragged me?” His face darkened. He remembered—when he fell, she had indeed pulled him up. Since childhood, he had endured endless bullying and scorn. This was the first time anyone had reached out in danger to pull him to safety.
And that person was Qu Xiangxiang.
He rose, turning his back to her, expression complicated, tone mocking: “Why help me?” He almost asked *Don’t you wish I’d die?* but the words stuck on his tongue.
Opportunity!
Qu Xiangxiang drew a deep breath, speaking the lines she had rehearsed countless times while feigning unconsciousness: “Actually… believe it or not, at that life-or-death moment, I realized—I’ve never truly wanted you dead.”
Her words were sincere. Whether the original host had wanted him dead was irrelevant now.
“Is that so?”
The two words were light, emotionless. Qu Xiangxiang’s heart clenched. She scrambled up, chasing his back. “Of course it’s true!”
Heaven knew how much willpower it had taken not to collapse and beg when his hand pressed her throat.
As a desperate hidden “bootlicker,” Qu Xiangxiang longed to give this cultivation world a proper lesson in law. Do you cultivators even have justice here?!
…
By dusk, they hadn’t even glimpsed the Soul-Losing Grass. Qu Xiangxiang felt despair. She didn’t want to spend the night on the mountain with this dangerous man. She wished heaven would grant her another five hundred years.
Head drooping, she trudged behind him—until she bumped into his solid back. Rubbing her sore nose, she complained: “Why did you stop suddenly?”
“Tiger bee.”
She looked up. A palm-sized, pitch-black bee hovered over the grass, its tail dragging a long stinger as thick as a thumb. The sight made her shiver.
“Tiger bees love the nectar of Soul-Losing Grass flowers,” Mu Hanzhang explained curtly. “Follow it.”
They trailed the bee to a deep cave. With a few wingbeats, it flew straight inside.
Qu Xiangxiang, still shaken from the corpse earlier, asked nervously: “Are we… going in?”
Mu Hanzhang was decisive. “Go.”
The cave was dark and damp, with stone walls covered in moss. The heavy, stale air fed her unease. She edged closer to him, hoping the male lead’s aura would calm her fear.
He noticed her brushing against him, frowned, and sidestepped. “Don’t touch me.”
Darkness and fear emboldened her. She boldly hooked his arm, shamelessly protesting: “I saved your life. Letting me hold your arm won’t cost you anything!” It fit her “vicious supporting character” persona perfectly.
“…”
Mu Hanzhang glanced down at her puffed cheeks, lips pressed thin. She truly looked convinced she had saved him. Could it be she really didn’t remember?
Though displeased, he endured her antics. They walked side by side until the tiger bee returned, wings buzzing frantically as it fled the cave.
Qu Xiangxiang brightened. “It came back! Doesn’t that mean we don’t have to go in?”
“Since we’re already here,” Mu Hanzhang said firmly, “the bee leaving doesn’t mean there’s no Soul-Losing Grass inside.”
“Then why?” she asked, confused.
He didn’t answer directly, instead countering: “Didn’t Master Xu just lecture about this two days ago? You weren’t listening?”
*Asking just to scold me!* Qu Xiangxiang rolled her eyes inwardly.
He knew the original host’s reputation. Asking this was just a roundabout way of calling her a lazy fool.
“Nope,” she said cheerfully. “Lin Zheng and I skipped class to go shopping.”
Mu Hanzhang: “…”
Not only hadn’t listened—she hadn’t even attended.
He ignored her, walking ahead.
Qu Xiangxiang pulled a face behind his back, then clung tighter to his arm.
*Please. He’s the male lead. If not for the risk of him skewering me with one sword, I’d plaster myself to him completely.*
After a while, the cave widened. A faint light glimmered ahead. They quickened their pace toward it.
And then—
“What is that?!”
Qu Xiangxiang’s apricot eyes went wide, every hair on her body standing on end. If not for clutching his arm, she would have collapsed.
Mu Hanzhang raised a finger to his lips, signaling silence. “It’s asleep. Don’t wake it.”