Mount Tianmu, the headquarters of the Light Divine Sect.
Beyond the four Great Hall Masters, the sect housed many prominent figures: the six Guardian Elders, numerous deacons, and countless core disciples. When news of the Leader’s return broke, the entire sect mobilized, flocking toward the most magnificent building—the towering Great Divine Temple—with eyes full of fervor and fanaticism.
However, an edict arrived first. By order of the Leader, they were to return to their posts; no welcome ceremony was required. Though confused, the members, who followed the Leader’s orders unconditionally, dispersed quickly.
Of course, there were those with the status to express doubt.
Zhao Shiniang, Mistress of the Vermilion Bird Hall, leaned gracefully against a pillar on the veranda. Her arms were crossed, and a slender, white fingertip rested against her crimson lips. Her eyes were as sultry as silk.
“Hey, dummy. What do you think the Leader is up to?”
The “dummy” she addressed was a bald, burly man with knotty muscles and a giant axe slung over his shoulder. He stared blankly into the void like a statue. Only after she repeated herself did he snap back to reality, grunting in a muffled voice: “Don’t call me dummy.”
Despite his dull appearance, this was Xiong Batian, Master of the Black Tortoise Hall. One should not be fooled by his exterior; in a fight, he was the most brutal of the four Hall Masters.
Zhao Shiniang gave a light click of her tongue and turned toward a wizened figure—Mo Lao, Master of the White Tiger Hall. His long white beard reached his chest, and his eyes were dark and sharp. Ignoring Zhao Shiniang completely, he walked straight past them without stopping.
Zhao Shiniang: “…”
One dummy, one cold old man. She lamented having such boring colleagues.
She stood up, stretched lazily—her fitted silk dress accentuating her curves—and realized there was no one around to appreciate it. The guards stood stiffly, not daring to steal a glance.
Turning away, she left Xiong Batian behind and headed toward the Azure Dragon Hall with purpose. She had discovered that the Leader’s carriage had gone directly there.
Ghost Mask, the Master of the Azure Dragon Hall, wore his hideous mask year-round. No one besides the Leader knew his true face. He was a shadow—mysterious, taciturn, and seemingly favored by the Leader above all others.
Zhao Shiniang reached the Azure Dragon Hall and found something interesting. The Leader was nowhere to be seen, but a courtyard within Ghost Mask’s residence was being frantically prepared by servants.
Who could possibly stay inside the private residence of the Azure Dragon Hall Master?
As she tried to sneak closer to uncover the secret, a figure suddenly appeared. Black robes, ghost mask—Ghost Mask himself.
“That is the Leader’s person,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. “The Leader has ordered that no one is to approach. Do you understand?”
Zhao Shiniang nodded and retreated, leaving the masked man standing silently in the shadows.
…
Chu Ling surveyed the courtyard. Every plant and stone had been meticulously arranged; the flowing water and rockeries created a serene atmosphere.
“Is this where I’ll be staying?”
Ji Wuyuan stood beside him, a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s right next to my quarters. Do you like it?”
Chu Ling feigned a look of pleasant surprise. “Then does that mean I can go find Big Brother Ghost whenever I want?”
Ji Wuyuan laughed and patted the youth’s head. “Indeed. If A-Ling wants to find me, you can come over anytime.”
And so, Chu Ling was “hidden away”—or so it seemed. He had no intention of being a docile canary.
Once the Leader left to attend to sect business, Chu Ling was left with two twin boys, about twelve years old, to attend to his needs. He named them Zijin and Zipei, after an old poem.
Meanwhile, outside the courtyard, Ji Wuyuan stood under a tree, narrowing his eyes at the building. Suddenly, a shadow landed half a step behind him.
“Master.”
The voice was raspy. The shadow looked up, revealing a ghost mask identical to the one Ji Wuyuan had worn in the temple. This was the real Ghost Mask—Ji Wuyuan’s shadow.
Ji Wuyuan turned, his expression deep. “Take off your mask.”
The man obeyed. As the mask came away, the face beneath was revealed—it was an exact replica of Ji Wuyuan’s own features.
“Good,” Ji Wuyuan said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Your next mission is to disguise yourself as me… and make him fall in love with you. Understood?”
A Pure Yin Body provided the greatest benefit only when “cultivated” voluntarily. Since Ji Wuyuan was busy with sect affairs, he needed a double to maintain the act, increase the youth’s affection, and ensure he would never want to leave.
The shadow bowed. “Yes, Master.”
…
Night fell, and the moon was bright.
Chu Ling was soaking in a natural hot spring within his courtyard. The warm water soothed his limbs, and he leaned against a smooth rock, his black hair floating on the surface.
[System,] Chu Ling chatted in his head. [I think Tang Zhen is pretty good too. He seems refined but he’s actually a lion-like fox. And that body… he must have great martial arts to dare come to the Demonic Sect.]
System: […]
Chu Ling continued: [He’s gentle and looks like the type to dote on a partner. Perfect husband material. They say ‘bad boys’ are better, and he’s both gentle and a bit wicked. Perfect.]
System: [Wake up. He’s the second male lead. He’s destined for the protagonist.]
Chu Ling sighed. [The second leads always belong to the audience, don’t they?]
Drowsy from the heat, he didn’t notice a black hem fluttering at the edge of the pool. The two attendants, Zijin and Zipei, bowed their heads as a man in a ghost mask walked past them.
Chu Ling felt a shadow fall over him and a cold touch under his chin. He looked up into a terrifying ghost mask.
“Big Brother Ghost?” he whispered.
In his heart, however, he was already certain: This isn’t Ji Wuyuan. Even if the voice and mannerisms were perfect, Chu Ling’s succubus instincts sensed something was off.
A double? Chu Ling was shocked, then amused. Ji Wuyuan is actually using a body double to court me? How kinky.
He decided to play along. If Ji Wuyuan wanted to play games, Chu Ling would give him a “cuckold” title he’d never forget.
“Big Brother Ghost,” the youth chirped. He reached out with a wet hand and grasped the man’s hand.
The double, the real Ghost Mask, stiffened. The youth’s touch was warm, almost scalding. He looked down and saw the fair face, the droplets of water on long lashes, the delicate collarbone, and the hints of red beneath the rippling water.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Even if you enjoy the water, A-Ling, you shouldn’t soak for too long. You’ll get dizzy. Come, get out.”
The youth nodded obediently and grabbed the man’s strong arm to climb out. But as he stood, his legs went weak—a side effect of soaking too long. He stumbled and, in a panic, threw his arms around the man’s neck, clinging to him.
The warm water instantly soaked the man’s dry robes, but that sensation was nothing compared to the soft, supple body pressed against him.
The double froze completely.