Dusk gathered, and the last lingering ray of the golden sun finally faded away into the encroaching darkness.
A young man was lying on the bed within the tranquil inner chamber. Though his eyes were closed and a white gauze veil covered his face, his stunning beauty was still unmistakable. He wore only a thin layer of white gauze, exposing his fair chest, and the gauze on his lower body had slid off for the most part with his movements.
Half-revealed and half-concealed, his masculine charm was alluring.
At this moment, the young man’s eyelashes, dark as ink against skin as flawless as frost and snow, trembled slightly, looking as though he were about to awaken.
Yan Zhu blinked his eyes in a daze, and the night-pearl overhead emitted a soft, glowing light. Though his mind was still somewhat foggy, he followed his heart instinctively and called out,
“Qing Yao.”
For a long while, there was no response. Yan Zhu could not help but sigh inwardly, thinking that as the Demon Lord, his prestige was truly lacking indeed, if even a subordinate could not be summoned.
It was not until a cool sensation brushed against the back of his neck that he belatedly snapped back to reality. Oh, he remembered—wasn’t he dead?
Yet, the sensation at his neck at this moment could not be faked. He blinked groggily, only to find a sword held horizontally across his throat. The blade was piercingly sharp, its light flashing like a streak of flying silk.
A subtle, hard-to-describe fragrance of sandalwood drifted from before him, very faint, yet unforgettable.
Yan Zhu sat up sluggishly, suddenly enlightened. No wonder he had felt everything was hazy and unclear; it turned out there was still a layer of gauze draped over his head.
The sword at his neck moved as he shifted, though it did not harm him in the least. Still, he did not dare to lift the covering off his head, terrified that a single careless move might earn him a slit throat.
After maintaining this deadlock for quite a while, he finally dared to lift his eyelids for a peek.
The surroundings instantly grew quiet. The wind picked up outside the window, pushing the door open, and a draft swept a lingering fragrance right toward them.
The newcomer possessed refined features carved into his very bones, with brows sharp as blades and phoenix eyes carrying frost. He wore nothing more than a simple white robe, yet he wore it with the grace of an immortal descending from the heavens. A pair of dark eyes looked coldly and purely down at him, white fingertips grasping a sword hilt as black as ink.
It was none other than the illustrious, breathtakingly stunning Immortal Lord Yu Li.
It had been quite a long time since they parted years ago.
“Who sent you here? You certainly have some nerve, courting your own death,” Yu Li spoke. His voice was cold, melodious, and carried a touch of ethereal breeze, yet it was devoid of any emotion, making him utterly unfathomable.
Hearing this question, Yan Zhu slowly regained his wits, unable to keep himself from marveling inwardly: Had this fellow Yu Li gone soft in the head over all these years, failing to recognize even him?
Seeing that he remained silent, the sword blade inched forward by another fraction, and a thin scratch instantly appeared across his delicate, fair neck.
Yan Zhu felt pain for the first time in an age. He raised his head dazedly, his captivating peach-blossom eyes lowered slightly. In the interplay of light and shadow, a fringe of long, thick eyelashes cast mottled shadows beneath his eyes.
Seeming to sense a hint of mortal danger, his hands at his sides unconsciously and lightly stroked his hem. Finding no hem beneath his eyes, he desperately clutched at the thin layer of gauze draped over his body instead.
This motion was completely ordinary, as if anyone might do it, and Yan Zhu never felt anything was amiss about it.
Yet with this very tug, he happened to pull the gauze right off his head.
Yu Li’s previously expressionless face suddenly froze for a split second.
After a long moment, he reacted, somewhat stiffly lowering the long sword in his hand, and stared straight at him with a pair of jet-black eyes.
Yan Zhu felt unnerved by his gaze. He dropped his hands unnaturally, not daring to make any more movements.
Yu Li closed the distance once more, white fingertips slowly brushing over the young man’s fragile neck, lightly tracing the thin scratch left there.
The large hand at his neck looked as though it could tighten at any moment. Yan Zhu was truly wide awake now, inwardly cursing up a storm: What kind of sickness is this? We haven’t seen each other in hundreds of years, so why has his temper become so violent? He starts choking people without a word—is this any way for a righteous Immortal Lord to act?
Even while being choked by the neck, he still had the leisure to let his mind wander. Out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly caught sight of the clothes on his own body.
A bolt of divine lightning struck through his mind.
Who was he?
Where was he?
What on earth was this thing on him?
Disregarding the hand on his neck, he lowered his head to scan himself carefully, and instantly felt darkness cloud his vision.
Apart from a sheer, translucent piece of gauze, there was nothing else on his body at all. Looking closer, the two cherry-red peaks on his chest were faintly visible, to say nothing of the rest. Taking it all in at a glance, his scenic beauty was practically laid bare without reservation.
Coupled with the fact that this was such an ambiguous place as a bed, he must have been delivered as a gift to this former mortal enemy by some heartless bastard.
So, he had been tangling with this person in front of him in this exact state for ages?
Yu Li was still staring at him with deep, fathomless eyes, but the hand locked around the young man’s neck slowly loosened. The long sword in his hand slid back into its scabbard with a ring, and his cool jade-like face resumed the cold expression it had worn at the start, though his demeanor now looked much gentler than before.
Yan Zhu, who had been struck dumb by the shock, carefully weighed the current situation and slowly arrived at a deduction:
Had he been reborn?
Judging by how that fellow Yu Li had looked at him like a complete stranger just now, heaven knows whose unlucky body he had been reborn into.
In his hazy state, he compared their respective combat powers. Before his death, they had been a match for each other, so if a fight broke out now, he would not be afraid of him.
However, having no idea how many centuries he had been dead, trying to flex martial prowess on someone else’s turf was pure suicide.
The atmosphere before them remained stiff and chilly, but Yan Zhu, having recovered his wits, acted as if he could not feel it at all. He simply pulled the blanket up to cover the unsightly clothes on his body, flashed a thick-skinned, cheeky grin, and said shamelessly, “Pardon me, Immortal Lord, but could you help me fetch a piece of clothing?”
Yu Li paused without speaking. A white robe identical to the one he had worn dropped squarely over his head, and a quiet fragrance of sandalwood instantly drifted to his nostrils.
Yan Zhu didn’t bother haggling over his lack of manners, very swiftly wrapping himself tightly from head to toe with that white garment.
Yu Li’s gaze was deep and intense. Watching him without blinking once he had finished dressing, he spoke up again: “Were you calling for Qing Yao just now? What is your relationship with the current Demon Lord of the Demon Realm?”
His words sounded like pure curiosity, devoid of any other emotion. Yet, if one observed closely, they could pierce through the roaring waves hidden beneath his superficial calmness.
Naturally, Yan Zhu had no spare time to watch him. While straightening his clothes, he let his mind wander wildly and secretly pondered over this title that had originally belonged to him.
In the years he had been gone, Qing Yao had successfully ascended to the top—it hadn’t wasted the painstaking effort he spent cultivating him. Who knows, perhaps he could even go rely on him in the future.
At this thought, he decided to play dumb. Raising his head to glance at Yu Li, he declared loudly, “You mean Qing Yao? Qing Yao is just a little puppy from my household. Do you like dogs too, Immortal Lord…?”
Forgive me, Qing Yao; today’s humiliation will surely be avenged another day.
Hearing this, Yu Li actually looked as though he were in a very good mood. He simply continued, “Then tell me, who was the one who sent you here?”
Yan Zhu paused, his eyes gradually brightening. Searching his memory for those hypocritical scoundrels who had besieged him in his past life, he said with absolute certainty, “It was Xuxuzi of the Guizang Sect! Yes! He was the one who sent me here!”
“You say it was Xuxuzi?”
Yan Zhu nodded vigorously, looking at him with bright, gleaming eyes.
“What did he send you here to do?”
Continuing to spout nonsense, Yan Zhu got more and more carried away: “He sent me here to seduce you, saying that only if I successfully seduced you, then…”
“Then what?”
Courting death, Yan Zhu kept shouting, “Then he would force you to marry me, take me as your primary disciple, and teach me the arts of immortality.”
Yu Li suddenly let out a soft laugh, the ice on his face melting away like warm spring breezes.