Jiang Tan stepped into the secret chamber and immediately frowned at the sight of the outer robe lying on the floor.
Strange, there is no wind in here. How could the clothes just fall off by themselves?
Xie Wuwei was lying flat and straight on the stone platform, his eyes tightly closed, his complexion pale, with neither an intake nor an exhaling of breath. He looked as dead as dead could be.
Jiang Tan walked up to the stone platform, leaned over, and took a closer look.
Xie Wuwei felt as though he had exhausted every ounce of self-control he possessed in his entire life.
Jiang Tan reached out and placed his fingers against Xie Wuwei’s neck to check his pulse.
The skin felt icy cold to the touch, and no pulse could be felt.
He raised his hand and gently lifted Xie Wuwei’s right eyelid, preparing to check his pupils.
They were still the same: scattered black pupils without the slightest focus.
Jiang Tan slowly exhaled. That makes sense. How could something as bizarre as resurrection ever succeed on the first try?
He stood in place for a moment, then bent down to pick up the clothing that had fallen to the floor. The fabric was stained with a few red ink marks from Xie Wuwei’s body.
Jiang Tan frowned, casually tossed the garment aside, and executed a hand incantation to thoroughly clean away all the ink marks from Xie Wuwei’s body.
Just as he was about to leave, he felt that Xie Wuwei lying there bare-chested was quite an eyesore. Glancing to the side, he saw that the original clothing was already soiled.
With a helpless sigh, Jiang Tan retrieved a brand-new set of clothes from his own wardrobe. He usually favored white, and this particular outfit was a misty purple; unused to wearing it, he had never put it on before.
He shook the garment out, set it aside, and propped Xie Wuwei up to dress him.
Such close proximity felt intensely awkward and thoroughly uncomfortable for Jiang Tan, but seeing Xie Wuwei bare-chested was even more unbearable, so he simply had to endure it.
Xie Wuwei’s sensations were equally unpleasant, but since he couldn’t suddenly snap his eyes open, sit up, and say, “Hahahaha, what a bother, I can dress himself,” he simply had to endure it as well.
Once Jiang Tan departed, Xie Wuwei stared awkwardly at his clothes.
The garments were undeniably fine, embedded with shifting dark patterns, soft, and comfortable, except they carried a faint lingering trace of incense. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell, but every time he breathed it in, it reminded him of Jiang Tan.
How truly annoying.
Xie Wuwei tilted his head up to gaze at the roof beams, quietly spacing out.
A day later, the mirror finally reached its limit and asked in a gloomy tone, “You aren’t planning to just lie here forever, are you?”
“I am looking for a chance to escape. If I keep pretending like this, my cover will be blown sooner or later,” Xie Wuwei replied weakly. Now that he could finally move around, albeit with the slow mobility of a recovering patient, he could at least exercise his waist, which felt nearly broken from all that lying down.
Just as he wanted to say more, he heard movement at the stone door of the secret chamber. With lightning speed, he shoved the mirror behind his waist and flattened himself out into a rigid, dead posture.
Playing dead is truly exhausting, he thought, especially since a cheapskate like Jiang Tan didn’t even provide a proper couch, leaving only hard stone platforms, stiff chairs, and woven prayer mats.
When the noise outside faded away, Xie Wuwei slowly crawled up, rubbing the back of his neck in sullen frustration.
Why won’t this guy Jiang Tan just leave? Isn’t he the sect leader? It doesn’t make sense for him to be this idle. If he refuses to leave, how am I supposed to escape?
Resting his chin in his hand, Xie Wuwei let out a tiny sigh.
That night, around midnight, a disciple came knocking at the door to report that Jiang Tan had left.
Sensing his long-awaited opportunity under the cover of night, Xie Wuwei quietly slipped out of the secret chamber, exerted quite a bit of effort to surreptitiously open the barrier, and fled.
As for what Jiang Tan would do when he returned and found him gone? Who could possibly worry about all that right now?
Xie Wuwei was quite familiar with the Taiyi Sect. While the front halls were heavily guarded, the rear quarters were relatively relaxed. He headed straight for the back area. However, it seemed something unusual was happening tonight; not only had Jiang Tan left, but along the way, nervous-looking disciples holding swords kept hurrying past.
Still, this had nothing to do with Xie Wuwei. If no one had the spare attention to mind him, making his escape would only be easier.
Moving swiftly, Xie Wuwei occasionally had the glow of a passing disciple’s lantern sweep across his face, yet those people walked right past him as if he were completely invisible, turning a blind eye.
The corners of Xie Wuwei’s lips curled upward as his fingers subtly formed an incantation within his sleeves.
He was proficient in both swordplay and sorcery, and though his sword was gone, his arts remained.
He had managed to walk a fair distance when a dull, nagging ache began to blossom in his chest. It felt quite uncomfortable, especially since he had been perfectly fine back in the secret chamber.
Then again, having just died once and clawing his way back to life, experiencing some lingering aftereffects was hardly strange.
Lowering his head, Xie Wuwei clutched his chest, took a deep breath, and forced himself forward. Yet the pain in his chest grew increasingly fierce. He stumbled and nearly fell, managing to steady himself only by grabbing hold of a nearby wall.
What is going on?
Frowning in puzzlement, Xie Wuwei looked down. The sensation was more than just pain; it was accompanied by a sudden, alarming drain of his physical strength.
Footsteps abruptly approached from ahead, drawing closer by the moment. Among them were several practitioners with profound cultivation. Frowning deeply, Xie Wuwei immediately retreated, concealing himself within the heavy shadows of the grand hall.
Yet the moment he stepped back, he felt the pain in his chest subside slightly. The relief was faint, but it certainly wasn’t his imagination.
Could the intensity of the pain be determined by distance?
Testing the theory, Xie Wuwei turned and took a few steps backward. Sure enough, the suffocating pain in his chest continued to recede, and his strength came flowing back. But the moment he tried to step forward again, the agony immediately returned.
It really is tied to distance…
Distance to whom? Naturally, the distance to Jiang Tan.
Leaning against the wall, Xie Wuwei gritted his teeth and let out a dry, irritated laugh. As expected of Sect Leader Jiang. He certainly has his ways.
Even if it kills me with pain today, I am leaving.
The dim, hazy courtyard lights cast their glow across Xie Wuwei’s face, illuminating merely one half of it while the other remained in shadow. In his eyes, a rare, fierce intensity flashed.
Half a zhuxiang later, the resigned slacker Xie Wuwei completely lost his fighting spirit and slunk back in defeat.
Oh gods, this really won’t work. It hurts so much! The further I walk, the closer I feel to death, and if I’m going to die anyway, why does it have to hurt this much? My life is truly miserable.
Sliding down the wall until he sat flat on the ground, Xie Wuwei rested his back against the stonework with a blank, lifeless stare.
Since I can’t leave now, do I really have to go back and keep playing dead?
Doesn’t that make my life even more miserable?
With a heavy sigh, Xie Wuwei dragged himself back in low spirits. He reached down to touch his chest; the pain was steadily easing, which meant he was getting closer to Jiang Tan’s location once more.
Voices gradually drifted in from the distance.
Curiosity piqued, Xie Wuwei looked toward the source of the noise. Since he couldn’t leave anyway, why not go take a look?
If he couldn’t run away, checking out the situation at least counted as knowing oneself and the enemy, plus, there was always a chance he might get to watch Jiang Tan run into some bad luck.
Having thoroughly justified his desire to rubberneck, he strolled leisurely forward.
A disciple had died within the Taiyi Sect, specifically the prime disciple of Jiang Tan’s senior martial brother. Ordinarily, an incident like this wouldn’t have caused such an uproar, but Jiang Tan had deliberately dispatched extra guards to monitor them just days prior.
This senior brother had always viewed Jiang Tan as a thorn in his side, and seized this opportunity to insist fiercely that his disciple had been murdered by Jiang Tan himself. He demanded a formal tribunal convened in the dead of night.
Inside the grand hall:
With an expressionless face, Jiang Tan pressed his thumb against his temple, coldly observing the people before him. “When all is said and done, Senior Brother, you still have no evidence.”
“Evidence? At the time of my disciple’s death, the people sent by the Sect Leader happened to be right at the scene, acting suspiciously and sneaking around. Does that not count as evidence?”
Standing to the side, Cen Liantai offered a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Senior Brother, do not be hasty. I have already sent men to check our junior nephew’s letters and personal belongings in his quarters. We will surely find a clue.”
“Let’s just hope our search doesn’t end up pointing straight back at the Sect Leader himself,” Yuwen Chen scoffed, folding his arms across his chest as he sat.
Jiang Tan ignored him, picking up a pair of fragrance chopsticks to gently poke at the ash inside the incense burner.
Cen Liantai arched an eyebrow and spoke in gentle, smooth tones, “Senior Brother, choose your words carefully. Slandering the Sect Leader is a grave offense.”
Squatting atop a distant roof tile, Xie Wuwei rested his chin in his hand and smiled. Jiang Tan, you actually know what it’s like to be wrongfully accused.
After waiting about the span of an incense stick, several figures hurried into the hall.
“Reporting to the Sect Leader, we found this item inside the deceased’s quarters. It matches the powder found on the victim’s body. Your subordinates could not identify what it is, but it appears to be poisonous.”
With that, they carefully handed over a small medicine packet held between two silk handkerchiefs.
The packet was placed onto a silver tray and presented. Being well-versed in pharmacology, Jiang Tan intercepted Cen Liantai’s hand as he reached for it. Using his fragrance chopsticks, Jiang Tan poked the packet open, looked up, and asked, “Why would your disciple possess something like this?”
“This substance is called the Corpse-Brand Incense. It is a highly potent poison. If the antidote is not administered in time, even those with profound cultivation will find it difficult to escape death.”
As soon as those words fell, the people standing in the grand hall erupted in murmurs. “Isn’t this a forbidden poison? It’s not something one can easily get their hands on. Could Senior Brother Wang have been planning to poison someone?”
Meanwhile, up on the roof, Xie Wuwei let out a soft yawn. He was tired and wanted to sleep, but he still wanted to figure out what was actually going on with this case.
Thus, our dual-practitioner Young Palace Master of Tianyan Palace casually plucked a few leaves from a nearby tree, pulled out his bronze mirror, and began doing some divination.
Let me see what is really going on here.
Of course, divination wasn’t almighty; it could only bring one closer to the truth rather than providing a precise, definitive answer. The rest basically relied on guessing, and whether those guesses were accurate was entirely another matter.
What Xie Wuwei wanted to know wasn’t who had killed this fellow, but rather, whom was that poison intended to kill?
Indolently blowing a breath across the leaves in his hand, Xie Wuwei let go, allowing them to flutter downward at random.
Catching the reflection of the falling leaves in the surface of the bronze mirror, Xie Wuwei’s brow furrowed. “Intending to assassinate the Exalted…”
You’ve got to be kidding me. That fellow—could it be that he wanted to kill Jiang Tan? But ended up getting killed by someone else first?
What a fool. Is Jiang Tan someone you can just assassinate?
Xie Wuwei thought to himself that the Taiyi Sect was truly a chaotic mess. Tianyan Palace was much better: only two people lived there, completely free of such tiresome troubles.
Overcome with sleepiness, he clumsily tumbled down from the roof tiles, his mind fixated entirely on finding a soft bed. He followed the winding paths straight back to Jiang Tan’s residential quarters.
Stopping in his tracks, he glanced back and forth between the secret chamber’s hidden door and the main bedchamber.
Things have already gotten this bad; how much worse can it get? At the very least, I refuse to mistreat my tailbone any longer.
Goodbye, you rock-hard stone slab that kept digging into my back.
Xie Wuwei dropped heavily onto the small couch beside the window.
He had no intention of sleeping on Jiang Tan’s actual bed—that would be far too repulsive. This little couch looked decent enough anyway.
If he hadn’t been anchored by the distance constraint, who on earth would willingly share a roof with Jiang Tan?
Flipping over onto his side, Xie Wuwei muttered a soft complaint, “This couch isn’t very soft either.” Still, he stretched out his tailbone, which had suffered gravely of late, and happily slipped into a baby-like slumber.
In the dead of night, just before dawn, Jiang Tan finally returned from the front halls. His people had successfully cleared themselves of suspicion, leaving the senior brother to retreat in frustration and nursing his grievances.
Plagued by a splitting headache, Jiang Tan simply wanted to rest.
Stepping into his bedchamber, he prepared to unbuckle his sword when he suddenly sensed a familiar aura.
Familiar—truly familiar. So familiar that upon first perceiving it, he felt no sense of anomaly, yet the very instant his mind registered it, his hand instinctively flashed to draw his sword from its scabbard.
Holding his blade at the ready, he walked forward in slow, measured steps, a profound sense of bewilderment in his heart. Using the tip of his sword, he hooked back a corner of the sheer gauze bed curtain to reveal a familiar face.
Xie Wuwei was lying soundly asleep on his couch, dressed in the pale garments Jiang Tan had provided him. A cascade of dark hair spilled gracefully over the silk pillow.
Upon seeing him arrive, Xie Wuwei opened his eyes. His gaze lacked focus, remaining completely hollow and dazed.
Something felt off—terribly, undeniably off.
For a long moment, the two of them exchanged a speechless silence. Neither spoke first.
“…Xie Wuwei?”
Xie Wuwei tilted his head, sat upright, and put on an expression that clearly said: I have no idea what language you’re speaking.
“You…” Jiang Tan’s sword paused mid-air. Lowering the tip, he took a slow step forward.
Xie Wuwei blinked, forcing his expression to look as natural as possible, and rasped out in a hoarse voice, “Who are you?”
“You don’t recognize me?”
Xie Wuwei nodded. In all honesty, he genuinely wished he had amnesia; that way, he wouldn’t have to face Jiang Tan or any of those messy past entanglements.
Jiang Tan sheathed his sword, used the hilt to gently push away a stray lock of hair from Xie Wuwei’s cheek, and watched as Xie Wuwei made no move to dodge, simply raising his head to meet his gaze.
The night breeze drifted into the room, billowing the sheer curtains. The warm glow of the lamps flickered, casting overlapping shadows over the two figures.
After a long, silent pause, Jiang Tan turned around. “Go back to sleep.”
And so, Xie Wuwei literally just flopped back down and went right back to sleep.
Jiang Tan did not sleep. He sat behind the folding screen with his sword resting right beside his hand. Through the gaps in the screen, he could faintly make out Xie Wuwei’s sleeping form on the couch.
Xie Wuwei had come back to life. After coming back to life, Xie Wuwei didn’t run away. And not only did he not run away, but he actually lay down on the couch and obediently waited for him…
Each of these three developments was more bizarre than the last.
Jiang Tan raised a hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Xie Wuwei woke up quite early. Having always possessed exceptional sleep quality, he had nevertheless spent half the night trapped in fragmented dreams, half-waking multiple times. Though he couldn’t remember what he had dreamed about, he woke up with a dull, uncomfortable heaviness in his chest. Before dawn even broke, he was already staring blankly up at the ceiling beams.
It was utterly unbelievable—he had actually spent an entire night sleeping in Jiang Tan’s room.
Fortunately, because he was close to Jiang Tan, he hadn’t felt any aches or pains whatsoever. The sensation was truly wonderful.
Xie Wuwei flipped over and glanced toward the large bed behind the screen. It was empty.
Avoiding sharing a room with me—it seems Sect Leader Jiang is quite cautious indeed.
Xie Wuwei got up, casually straightened his clothes, and picked up a fruit from the table to take a bite.
The sky outside was still early. With the fruit in hand, Xie Wuwei thought about stepping outside for a look, only to discover that a newly minted barrier had been cast around the courtyard, one far more intricate than the earlier ones. While he could break through it, doing so would take quite a bit of time and inevitably cause a disturbance.
Fine then. If I can’t go out, I won’t go out.
Taking a stroll around the courtyard should be fine, right?
Xie Wuwei took another bite of his fruit. Since his resurrection, he hadn’t eaten anything proper, and now he was feeling rather hungry.
The courtyard contained nothing more than trees, flowers, and a winding stream circling a rockery. Inevitably, Xie Wuwei’s gaze drifted toward a small, chimney-equipped outbuilding nearby.
Pushing the door open, Xie Wuwei stepped into the kitchen. Fortunately, no restrictive barriers had been placed here, allowing him entry.
Jiang Tan disliked having servants wait upon him, so the kitchen was completely devoid of people, not only empty of staff, but also devoid of any food. A quick scan revealed a spotless room furnished with little more than some tea canisters and a jar of wine tucked into a corner.
Xie Wuwei opened the kitchen cabinets to inspect them; inside sat a single bag of flour. Jiang Tan really is completely detached from mortal life; there isn’t even any actual food in his kitchen.
Looking around with a sigh, he retrieved the bag of flour and set about kneading and preparing dough. Early in the morning, one couldn’t exactly wash down tea with alcohol. He stepped out to pluck a few of Jiang Tan’s spiritual herbs from the garden as garnishes and whipped up a bowl of noodles for himself.
He managed to make do with a simple meal. Just as he finished eating and prepared to leave, he paused after taking two steps, turned his head, and looked back at the remaining lump of dough.
The corners of Xie Wuwei’s lips curved upward. Perhaps he had just found a wonderful way to test Jiang Tan’s attitude.
By mid-morning, Jiang Tan woke up with a start. He sat up and rubbed his temples; having slept on the side hall’s couch all night, he hadn’t rested well at all.
Stepping out of his room and turning the corner, he saw that the small couch by the window was neatly arranged, showing no trace of having been slept on. Glancing further into the main hall, he caught sight of Xie Wuwei seated at the table with a bowl of noodles placed before him.
“Breakfast. Yours,” Xie Wuwei said with a smile.