(15)
In a mountain forest a hundred miles away from Wuwang Sect, a cold moon hung high, and crows cawed in waves.
A dark figure dashed through the night, covered in a heavy bloody aura. Though clearly severely injured, his steps dared not pause for even a moment.
“Don’t let him get away! Yan Zhun, intercept him with a Demon-Binding Talisman!”
A cold shout came from behind, and the dark figure instantly fled even faster, running so fast his legs were almost leaving afterimages.
Yet despite fleeing with all his might, he was still entangled by a paper talisman flying in from behind. Vines covered in thorns sprouted from the talisman, leaving bloody streaks across his body one after another.
Just as he desperately broke free from those vines, the person behind had already caught up.
He turned his head in despair, looking at the cold-faced youth. That expressionless face appeared so terrifying under the moonlight, like an evil ghost that had crawled out from the underworld.
“Running, are we?”
Sweat was also beaded on Jiang Xing’s forehead. He evened out his breathing, raised his hand to form a hand seal, and set down a trapping formation, a faint smile emerging on his face. “Why aren’t you continuing to run?”
“Why talk so much nonsense with a demon cultivator? Look at how he beat me up.” Yan Zhun emerged from the thicket bruised and battered, hiding behind Jiang Xing. “Kill him quickly so we can head back to report; I really can’t run anymore.”
The demon cultivator stared at them dead-on, clutching the long sword in his palm.
There was still a chance—that other person hadn’t caught up yet, so he could still escape…
In the next moment, a snow-white-robed figure walked slowly over from behind them, his long sword reflecting a sharp, icy radiance beneath the moon.
The demon cultivator’s expression froze as a trace of despair flickered across the bottom of his eyes. The sword in his palm loosened and fell to the ground as he knelt on the earth, pleading pitifully with all his might: “I beg you to spare me! I truly know my mistake now, and I promise never to cultivate demon methods or commit evil ever again!”
Jiang Xing hadn’t noticed the person behind catching up, merely thinking that the demon cultivator was facing death and attempting to beg him for mercy, so he interrupted disdainfully: “Where do you know your mistake? You clearly just know you’re about to die.”
Hearing his words, the demon cultivator’s eyes suddenly darkened. Since they weren’t going to leave him a path to live, then no one should think of living!
Just as he was about to execute a forbidden technique to perish together, a long sword precisely pierced through his chest. The supreme pure spiritual energy entwined around the blade was incomparably sharp, churning and raging wildly inside his body until it extinguished every last trace of life.
The demon cultivator raised his eyes in disbelief, meeting that person’s quiet gaze.
“The people killed by you once pleaded with you for mercy just like this.” Zishu Bai pushed the long sword inward inch by inch, seemingly resolved to put him to death to ensure he couldn’t retain a single breath. “Pay with your life for those who died in vain.”
He drew out the sword, and the demon cultivator’s body collapsed onto the ground with a bang, blood meandering and flowing on the earth to form a small stream.
Only then did Jiang Xing and Yan Zhun recover their senses, looking at him somewhat astonished.
The everyday Zishu Bai was too gentle and kind; this was the first time they had discovered that this person was so ruthless when slaying demons.
Thinking carefully, this wasn’t the first time either. Back in Sand Town, Zishu Bai was also very ferocious when killing that mother worm. However, at that time they had all been miserable from the mother worm, so seeing the mother worm killed only brought relief to their hearts, which was why they hadn’t thought much of it.
Zishu Bai pulled a handkerchief out from his lapel, wiped away the blood splattered on his face, and then earnestly wiped the long sword clean before returning it to its sheath. Turning his head to look toward Jiang Xing and Yan Zhun, he chuckled softly: “This is great. Now the villagers no longer have to be afraid. Shall we head back?”
Jiang Xing shot him a glance, routinely going over to cut open the demon cultivator’s spiritual core and pocket it.
Moving so fast—he could have killed him himself. This demon cultivator was indeed very weak, used for inner sect disciples to practice on.
Seeing him go cut open the spiritual core again, Yan Zhun hurriedly scampered forward and squatted beside him, speaking anxiously: “The agreed-upon 60/40 split—don’t you forget it.”
Jiang Xing was angered into a laugh by his hair-splitting manner. “What did you do? Wasn’t it just getting a beating and throwing a few talismans?”
“What do you mean ‘just getting a beating’? My tooth was almost knocked out!” Yan Zhun said indignantly, “If I hadn’t gone to act as bait, could you guys have caught him so fast?”
Seeing that the two were about to start bickering, Zishu Bai patted Jiang Xing’s shoulder and said in a low voice: “It’s still early. Since it wasn’t easy to leave the mountain, we can look around nearby.”
Hearing his words, Jiang Xing wiped the spiritual core clean, put it inside his front lapel, and said without interest: “What’s there to look around for?”
“A whole lot!” Yan Zhun was indeed easily led astray by Zishu Bai. Disregarding the argument, he began rattling them off like counting family treasures: “This place is very close to Kaihe City, where my family lives. Just thirty more li of road, and I can take you to my house. Our city has the largest winery in the entire cultivation world, as well as trading houses for cultivators, sword-forging shops… Oh right, we also have the world’s most delicious wine-steeped duck!”
Zishu Bai felt a wave of yearning as he listened, murmuring: “So impressive! Our village is very small and has nothing; I’ve never been to such a prosperous city before.”
These two idiots—why did they only have eating, drinking, and having fun in their heads? They truly didn’t have a shred of ambition.
Jiang Xing interrupted them unceremoniously: “Not going. Return immediately, I want to go back to the sect to hand in the mission.”
As his words fell, Yan Zhun and Zishu Bai exchanged a glance, both seeing a trace of disappointment in each other’s eyes.
“You really lack taste,” Yan Zhun said resentfully. “All you know is handing in missions, handing in missions, cultivating, cultivating. Did you take a trip to the human realm just to learn those broken spells?”
Such a familiar line.
Jiang Xing vaguely remembered that he had been scolded like this in his past life too. When he was in college, his classmates asked him if he wanted to go to a gathering. Since he was busy with exams at the time, he rejected them without a second thought, and the other party had said the exact same thing to him.
All you know is studying, studying. Calling you out to make friends and you don’t even appreciate it—what’s the point of your life?
What did his life have to do with anyone else?
For that kind of boring gathering, going there meant merely sitting in an unheeded corner, watching others chat enthusiastically with their friends—that was what was truly pointless.
His gaze suddenly fell upon Zishu Bai. Seeing him still looking at him with eyes full of disappointment, Jiang Xing’s mouth twitched slightly.
Truly sick. Just a moment ago he killed a living demon cultivator, yet in the next second he turned right back into that innocent, pitiful expression—didn’t he feel his contrast was huge?
Did he want to go play that badly?
Or rather, did a certain someone often go out to play like this with those “friends in the East Palace,” which was why he was so disappointed in him?
Jiang Xing let out a cold sneer in his heart. Then he’d take a look at what these two idiots usually played at with those “friends in the East Palace.”
“Where is Kaihe City?”
Hearing his words, Yan Zhun’s expression instantly turned excited. “You’re willing to go? It’s not far, right nearby!”
Jiang Xing said impatiently: “How should I know where ‘nearby’ is? Lead the way.”
“Right away!”
Yan Zhun ran excitedly to the front to lead the way. Zishu Bai quietly stood beside Jiang Xing, his tone unable to conceal his happiness, yet his voice was very light, carrying a bit of caution: “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you all along.”
Hearing this, Jiang Xing’s brows knit slightly as he looked up at him.
“What did you dream about me?” Zishu Bai really wanted to know. He had guessed too many possibilities; even though he knew they probably just chatted casually in the dream, what if something interesting had happened?
Hearing his words, Jiang Xing’s expression froze slightly, his mind instantly recalling that annoying dream where a certain someone forced him in the dream to admit that the other party was kind-hearted, gentle in nature, extraordinarily talented, and very good to his friends.
He wouldn’t repeat this passage to Zishu Bai even if he died.
Pausing, he suddenly thought of something, and a smile slowly curled up the corners of his lips: “I actually do remember one thing. I dreamed that you blew your own trumpet, saying that when you practiced swordplay in your youth, you defeated your father at three, beat your mother at six, and had no rivals in Penghao Mountain at ten. Who knew you were so impressive?”
Zishu Bai went blank for a moment, and then his entire face instantly flushed red, spreading inch by inch to his earlobes and neck.
His steps suddenly slowed down. Jiang Xing turned back to look, seeing him standing on the spot, using one hand to cover his face that was so red it was dripping blood.
His voice was as low as a mosquito’s buzz, carrying a bit of shame, almost impossible to hear clearly.
“Don’t tell anyone.”
Jiang Xing couldn’t help sneering, turning his head back and looking at him no further. “Idiot.”
After taking a scolding, Zishu Bai awkwardly chased after him, begging him in a small voice.
That was all in his childhood; he indeed felt he was very impressive, but he merely boasted secretly in his heart occasionally. How could he have said it out loud in a dream?
Most importantly, saying it right to Jiang Xing’s face—Jiang Xing must think he was brazen, self-important, and that there was no one more shameless in the whole world… Had he known earlier, he wouldn’t have asked. Sigh, truly unnecessary.
*
Before long, the three finally arrived at Kaihe City.
They had long known that Yan Zhun came from a rich family, but they didn’t know that the so-called largest winery in the world was actually his family’s winery.
Jiang Xing watched as Yan Zhun had people carry out pot after pot of Lotus Heart Wine, feeling only amusement in his heart.
The fine wine Wu Moxun loved to drink most—the treasure Wuwang Sect only gave disciples a taste of once every five years—was actually placed everywhere in Yan Zhun’s home. Rich people indeed could live very well in any era.
Having drunk a bit of wine, slightly tipsy from the alcohol, looking out as far as the eye could see, the lake and mountain scenery outside the carved window were exceedingly beautiful.
Jiang Xing looked at that vast world in a daze. Listening to the lively sounds of Zishu Bai and Yan Zhun reciting drinking games by his ear, he suddenly felt that he had a tiny bit of a sense of belonging.
Truly strange—he didn’t even have this kind of feeling in the real world, the feeling of genuinely being alive.
He didn’t manage to daydream for too long; before he had time to figure out the reason behind it, a hand suddenly grabbed him over.
Yan Zhun pushed him to Zishu Bai’s side, clearly already having drunk too much, his words completely incoherent: “Brother Xiao Bai, get Jiang Xing to judge—how does that little duck poem I composed just now compare to your plum-reciting poem?”
Pushed by him, Jiang Xing caught off guard fell onto Zishu Bai. Grinding his teeth, he raised his eyes to look toward Yan Zhun, saying without mercy: “That trash you composed is worthy of being called a poem? You still have the face to ask me to judge?”
Warm body heat leaned against his shoulder; Zishu Bai’s figure froze abruptly, subconsciously wanting to dodge away, yet for some reason unable to move his body.
“How is it not called a poem!” Yan Zhun was still cursing away, “Why are you biased toward Brother Xiao Bai? Back then I was the one who carried you on my back all the way to Sand Town…”
This idiot was at it again.
Jiang Xing was completely oblivious to Zishu Bai’s changing expression, immersed in harshly scolding Yan Zhun.
Zishu Bai could clearly smell the faint scent of wine on him. It was like this every time: only when drunk and not fully conscious did Jiang Xing have less resistance toward him, even being able to lean against him like this, just like ordinary friends.
He carefully and preciously felt this hard-won closeness, not daring to budge, terrified that a tiny movement of his body would make the other party realize they shouldn’t be this intimate.
Just like dealing with a timid cat, using quiet waiting to prove to the cat—
Come a bit closer, I promise I won’t hurt you.