A night of entanglement passed.
The thunderclouds finally dispersed, but the rain outside remained torrential. The protective arrays surrounding the Qingheng Sect showed no abnormalities. Elder Jueya, following his annual routine, dispatched a puppet belonging to another elder to retrieve the Sect Leader, who by all rights should have been left in a wretched state by the lightning.
Wenren Qi had always loathed having strangers near him, and he was even quicker to dismiss acquaintances. He showed no respect for the elderly and no love for the young. Had he not been the sole remaining heir of the Sect Leader’s lineage, Jueya would not have been so desperate to push him into the position.
The departing puppet followed the scorched trail of the heavenly lightning to locate Wenren Qi’s whereabouts. Inside the cave dwelling, Cen Moyu stared blankly at the face leaning in close. After a moment of daze, he was pinned down once more.
A mysterious heatwave triggered the underlying biological code of his bird-demon body; the instinctual desire to “tread” took over. Even the meager cultivation of a little bird-demon, which had not progressed in a hundred years, was enough to contend with a cultivator whose powers had been drained by heavenly lightning. Unfortunately, Cen Moyu’s physical form was frail. He was truly no match for this protagonist who possessed a face as cold and clear as a bright moon.
“I… please do not pin me down. I want to…”
Perhaps finding Cen Moyu too noisy and the struggling too inconvenient, Wenren Qi flipped him over. Cen Moyu almost burst into tears. He wondered if this was what “treading” was supposed to be, as it was nothing like what he had imagined.
Wenren Qi had a very unseemly dream. When he awoke, his rampaging spiritual energy had stabilized, but Elder Jueya’s voice transmissions were making his head ache.
“Sect Leader! Where are you? The puppet cannot find you!”
“Wenren Qi! Ah-Qi, do not think you can act recklessly just because you are the Sect Leader! If you leave the sect, there will be no one to guard the Wheel of Tracing Years!”
“Could it be he was blasted into mush by the lightning? No, that is impossible; the soul lamp is still lit. It does not look like he ascended either.”
Irritated, Wenren Qi waved away the noise and began to survey his surroundings. It was not his first time failing to ascend. Usually, once the lightning tribulation ended, a puppet would follow his aura to escort him back to his private chambers. Perhaps because the puppet failed to find him this time, Jueya had sent many people to search.
There were sounds of movement outside. Wenren Qi glanced at the interior decor; the scabbard hanging on the wall looked somewhat familiar. This was the cave dwelling of his disciple, Lu Jijun. The scabbard was a gift Wenren Qi had given him when he first entered the Qingheng Sect.
Was he not supposed to be down the mountain?
Lu Jijun was not originally scheduled for this mission. However, hearing that the Hehuan Sect was also sending representatives, he had uncharacteristically sought out his master for help. The other elders disapproved of his association with the women of the Hehuan Sect, but Wenren Qi was the only one who did not care for such rules.
Wenren Qi did not dabble in romance himself, but he quite enjoyed playing matchmaker for others. This was a piece of inside information in the Qingheng Sect known to very few. Having obtained Wenren Qi’s permission, Lu Jijun had happily departed the mountain.
The master of the cave dwelling was absent. The bed was a mess, the bedding was damp, and the air hung heavy with an ambiguous scent. Wenren Qi plucked a few feathers from his own hair.
Everything about this was bizarre. Wenren Qi sent a voice transmission to Lu Jijun: “Are you not within the sect?”
“This disciple has entered the borders of Linchuan and will arrive in the Northern Territory in a few days.”
The sky was just beginning to brighten. On the opposite bank was the Hehuan Sect’s team. Many disciples were staring across the river. Not far away, Mai Li stared at Lu Jijun and huffed, “Men really do prefer the flirtatious ones.”
A disciple from the same sect passed by and joked with Mai Li, “Junior Brother, you are not flirtatious enough yourself. Your collar is nearly open to your navel.”
“What are you saying, Senior Brother?” Mai Li glanced again at the dull, dazed man nearby.
The “lover” he spoke of was an unremarkable disciple under Elder Jueya. His cultivation was average, and in the eyes of others, his looks paled in comparison to Lu Jijun’s. Tiansui had a scar stretching from his cheekbone to his ear. In the appearance-obsessed Qingheng Sect, no one liked this look.
“If only Senior Brother Tiansui were as sensible as Senior Brother Lu,” Mai Li mused.
Since joining the sect years ago, everyone knew Mai Li had poor judgment. Instead of pursuing the handsome young talents, he had set his sights on the “cow dung” in a field of flowers.
Lu Jijun rarely communicated with Wenren Qi. He let out a sigh of relief after the transmission cut off. The scarred man beside him, wearing the same colored robes, handed him some water and asked, “This trip, you did not come in secret, did you?”
“Of course not. I only came down the mountain with my Master’s permission. Otherwise, how would Immortal Wang at the gate have let me pass?”
Tiansui nodded. “The Sect Leader cares for you a great deal.”
Elder Jueya had taken in many disciples but raised them with a hands-off approach. Some he could not even remember, so he placed them under Wenren Qi’s name. Many thought being a registered disciple of Wenren Qi came with great perks, but in reality, it was just because the ledger was full, so they had to occupy empty spots.
Tiansui was an early disciple of Jueya. Since the Elder was a perennial alcoholic, Tiansui handled most of the inner sect affairs. Despite his rugged looks, he was quite popular.
“I cannot afford that kind of care,” Lu Jijun said, raising an eyebrow. His face, frozen in youth, looked very refreshing. “I do not know what medicine Master took to suddenly remember to ask after me. He usually cannot be bothered with me.”
Tiansui remarked, “Perhaps he failed to ascend again. According to letters from disciples in the sect, the forests were blasted bald by lightning, there are craters everywhere, and many spirit beasts have fled.”
“It is not the first or second time the old man has failed,” Lu Jijun said. The first time he heard his Master was undergoing the lightning tribulation, he was excited. Now that it happened every hundred years, they were all used to it. “Elder Jueya will look after him.”
At this mention, Tiansui frowned, making his already intimidating face look even more fearsome. “Master is addicted to alcohol. If…”
Lu Jijun had been meticulously cared for by Tiansui as a child, and they shared a close bond. He hooked an arm around his senior brother’s shoulder. “Senior Brother, do not worry. The Sect Leader is a thousand-year-old man; he is not that fragile.”
The fragile one was actually Cen Moyu.
The plan had failed, and he had been pinned down all night by the protagonist, Wenren Qi. The protagonist had suffered a qi-deviation, which in turn triggered Cen Moyu’s own instinctual desires. Cen Moyu had thought that even if they shared the same preference, he might still have a chance to be the dominant one.
He never expected that a man covered in blood from lightning strikes would possess such savage strength, bearing no resemblance to the “Cold Immortal” described in the original book. It was as if Wenren Qi wanted to carve himself into Cen Moyu’s depths and leave a permanent mark.
Had he not heard the sound of patrolling disciples outside, Cen Moyu might have truly slept with Wenren Qi until dawn. Taking advantage of the early hour, Cen Moyu endured the aching pain to return and change into his Gate-Closing Disciple robes. He managed to make it just in time for his shift change with Old Wang.
The gate-closing master, Old Wang, was reeking of alcohol. He was barely coherent when Cen Moyu patted him awake. Murmuring that he had not drunk enough, he stared at his exceptionally beautiful disciple for a long while and asked with a grin, “Where did you go to play down the mountain? Why are your lips so swollen? Did you meet a girl from a good family?”
Cen Moyu’s heart skipped a beat. He cleared his throat. “No, there was no girl. Master, please go back and rest.”
In his mind, he thought: There was no girl. We clashed in roles, and I was worked so hard I am walking with my legs splayed.
In his rush to avoid being late, he had not even washed properly. Everything felt strange. How could a first time be so intense? The disciple frowned unconsciously, unaware that the lingering traces of passion in his eyes were a dead giveaway to someone with experience. To Old Wang, it looked exactly like someone who had spent a wild night with a lover and rushed back for a shift.
Old Wang, being a man of experience, chuckled. “If you say there is no one, there is no one.” As the gatekeeper stood up slowly, seeing Cen Moyu about to explain further, he laughed. “I love wedding wine the most. If you get married, I will need at least two jars.”
“I really—”
“Shift is over!”
Cen Moyu felt a crushing weight in his heart. The moment he sat down, he shot back up in pain. Biting his lip and enduring it for a long time, he asked the System: “What do I do?”
[It is a mess! It is too messy!]
Cen Moyu’s mind was even messier.
[I am seriously done. I told you to mix the protagonist and the love interest together, but you went and got mixed yourself! Where is the decorum?]
“Stop scolding me. I did not expect it to turn out like this either.”
Cen Moyu leaned weakly to the side. Though the mysterious heat had passed, he was still exhausted. He felt fortunate it was not peak hour at the mountain gate. As the sun rose in the east, the gloom that had plagued the Qingheng Sect for over a month finally vanished. This signified the Sect Leader’s failed ascension and an even greater failure for Cen Moyu’s mission.
“You disappeared back then. I thought you had left me.” Having just started his shift, Cen Moyu could not find anyone to take over, so he endured the discomfort. “I did not expect Lu Jijun to be away from the sect.”
The System remained silent.
Cen Moyu: “Say something.”
The usually abrasive System actually admitted its mistake. [My intelligence was incorrect.]
The frequent beeping from the System’s side made Cen Moyu even more dejected. “You scared me. I thought you were never coming back.”
Even though they were different species, Cen Moyu’s tone was very intimate. After all, with a hundred years of companionship, Cen Moyu could develop feelings for a worn-out writing brush, let alone a System he was symbiotic with—one that knew his unlucky past.
[Things have come to this. I have reviewed the variables of your night; I do not blame you. The protagonist’s qi-deviation was within expectations. You being affected by him and entering your heat period was expected, but Lu Jijun joining the trial for a demoness was an unexpected variable.]
Cen Moyu became more confused. “What heat period?”
[You are currently a bird-demon. Every year…]
Recalling that strange urge to tread, Cen Moyu’s head spun. “You do not mean to say I am in my breeding season, do you? It has been a hundred years; how could I?”
[It is precisely because you have not had one in a hundred years that I thought you were special.]
Cen Moyu felt the world spinning. He tried to argue weakly, “I am a male bird! What am I breeding? Besides,” he spoke urgently, “sparrows are also male birds, and they do not have this. It must be that man’s fault.”
He insisted that Wenren Qi’s qi-deviation had triggered his own heat. Surprisingly, the System did not argue. Cen Moyu asked in shock, “Why are you not scolding me anymore?”
The System coughed. [It is understandable.]
Cen Moyu’s mind was filled with those chaotic, illogical movements. He had not even known he could be pushed to such an extent. These were things only supposed to happen after marriage. Without even a hug or a kiss, he had finished everything with the protagonist.
Seeing Cen Moyu’s pale face and physical exhaustion, the System felt a rare pang of pity. [You should rest for a few days. We will plan properly after.]
The little bird who had been cruelly tormented all night shook his head. “I do not have annual leave. I—”
The System sighed. [In half a stick of incense’s time, Elder Lan Que will pass by here. Seeing you so weak, he will let you rest.]
Senior Lan, who had arranged for Cen Moyu to be the gate-closing disciple years ago, was a massive bird enthusiast. He preferred these idle roles over teaching disciples. It was said he spent half the year outside bird-watching and once nearly died in the wilderness just to see a specific bird.
Cen Moyu was trembling; a mysterious fatigue washed over him. His voice was drowsy. “Really?”
Half a stick of incense later, Elder Lan Que indeed came through the mountain gate with an umbrella, humming a tune. Seeing the disciple leaning against the doorframe, he uttered an exclamation. “Moyu, what has happened to you?”
Cen Moyu had served at the Qingheng Sect for nearly a hundred years, rising from a simple gate-closer to a great disciple status. His work ethic was flawless. In the year-end evaluations, the gatekeepers usually scored a ninety-nine; the missing point was always deducted because of Old Wang’s smell of booze.
After the Fairy Pitta transformed, his eyelashes were very long. Though the System had changed his eyes to an unremarkable ink-black, they remained crystal clear. Now, the disciple’s face was flushed with an unnatural red and his lips were parched. He was clearly ill. Lan Que, having watched him since he joined, was naturally concerned. He supported Cen Moyu just as he was about to collapse. “Are you sick?”
“The fever is quite high. Go back and rest.” He called over his attendant boy. “Take him to the medical hall.”
Cen Moyu shook his head. Even with the System’s guarantee, he was still afraid of his identity being exposed. “I will be fine after a sleep.”
Lan Que did not force him. “I will handle things here. Go rest.”
The attendant boy escorted Cen Moyu to his quarters, thoughtfully preparing tea and hot water. Cen Moyu refused to let them help him change clothes, terrified they would see the bite marks covering his body. He only requested a tub of water for bathing. Outside, the sunlight was perfect. The storm and thunder of last night seemed like a dream. Cen Moyu fell asleep leaning against the rim of the bathtub.
Inside the Sect Leader’s bedchambers, Wenren Qi’s body was covered in a mix of new and old wounds. Elder Jueya sent the physician away and looked toward the person behind the heavy veils.
“This time was too dangerous. If the lightning had completely shattered your soul, demons could have seized the chance to possess you. You would be finished. I think you should properly prepare for your next ascension. Find a Dao companion to balance your energies. The old Sect Leader’s wish for you to have a wife and child was not a grievance; your emotions are deficient, and you need warm blood to—”
A cold voice drifted from behind the veils. “He had a wife and child, yet did he not still die with his eyes open in regret?”
The shredded silk and scattered feathers on the floor testified to how wild the night had been. Wenren Qi had gathered the feathers, certain that the one he had spent the night with was an unintelligent demon.
Jueya gasped. “He died with his eyes open because of a bastard like you!”
Wenren Qi suddenly asked, “Is Master Lan Que within the sect?”
Jueya was stunned for a moment. “Why? Have you taken a liking to him? He is even older than I am, and he only likes birds.”
A single feather drifted down before Jueya’s eyes. Wenren Qi’s voice sounded much lower and raspier. “I wish to ask him to identify what kind of bird this feather belongs to.”