“Master.”
In the dim room, candlelight flickered to life, illuminating a figure sitting behind a desk processing backlogged sect affairs.
Clad in a luxurious black robe, his face was strikingly handsome, and his long, narrow eyes were as deep as an abyss.
Ghost Mask knelt in the center of the room, his head bowed low.
“Tell me, what is my Ling’er doing at this moment?”
The magnetic lilt of his voice carried a tone of extreme tenderness and attachment.
Ghost Mask’s fingertips trembled slightly at his side, as if recalling the youth’s porcelain-white figure under the moonlight and that soft, marshmallow-like touch… He lost himself for a moment before snapping back, replying respectfully: “Reporting to Master, Young Master Chu has already retired for the night.”
Ji Wuyuan’s eyes shifted, glancing sideways at the kneeling shadow. The look held no overt pressure, yet it made Ghost Mask’s heart tighten, causing him to lower his head even further.
“He didn’t notice anything, did he?”
“No.”
“Very good.”
Ji Wuyuan waved a hand, and Ghost Mask vanished instantly.
The air grew silent. Ji Wuyuan put down his work and paced slowly to a wooden lattice window. Looking down at the bright lights of the mountain and through the flickering leaves, a quiet courtyard came into view.
After a long pause, his lips curled into a slight smile.
…
Equally sleepless were those far away at Sword Casting Villa.
The moment he received the definitive news from Yan Shuangfei, Old Master Chu’s vision went dark. He only remained standing because Jun Yichen caught him in time.
The die was cast; the worst possible outcome had arrived. No matter how much Jun Yichen tried to comfort him, it was futile. Even if members of the Demonic Sect had lured the innocent Chu Ling away, it was clear the boy had gone willingly.
As for why he was willing, that reason flowed into Jun Yichen’s heart like a helpless warm current, knocking against his soul and causing it to tremble involuntarily.
Finally, Jun Yichen made a solemn vow to the Old Master: “Uncle, I will surely rescue Brother Chu Ling from the Demonic Sect safely!”
He turned to return to the Martial Arts Alliance to begin deployments, but his wrist was suddenly caught by Old Master Chu. The grip was incredibly heavy, likely leaving bruises on Jun Yichen’s arm.
As Jun Yichen turned back in confusion, Old Master Chu waved his hand, dismissing all disciples and servants. In the vast, empty hall, only the two of them remained in the quiet chill.
“Uncle?”
“I must tell you… a secret concerning my son.”
Old Master Chu took a deep breath, as if making a monumental decision. His serious, solemn expression caused Jun Yichen’s gaze to sharpen instinctively.
“Uncle, please speak.”
Old Master Chu opened his mouth and slowly revealed the secret he had buried for over a decade—the special constitution Chu Ling had possessed since birth, and the consequences should the Demonic Sect discover it…
He was forced into this, knowing he could no longer hide it. If the Demonic Sect discovered it, the outcome would be more harrowing than death. He realized now that telling Jun Yichen was the only way to emphasize that the situation was far more dire than it appeared.
Jun Yichen was completely stunned, listening as if to a fairy tale. The Old Master’s low, raspy voice continued to ring in his ears.
“Thus, my son possesses a trait that would make any martial artist go mad—a divine path directly to the Xiantian realm. No one can resist that temptation!”
“So I beg of you, no matter what, you must save him! Sword Casting Villa is entirely at your command!”
Old Master Chu’s eyes were bloodshot, his gaze desperate as he looked at Jun Yichen.
Jun Yichen slowly closed his mouth, which had been slightly agape in shock. His heart was still shaking, yet he realized that Chu Ling’s “sacrifice” for him had reached a level beyond words. He was moved beyond measure.
Looking into the red, weary eyes of the old father and seeing the heavy burden of a parent’s worry, he nodded deeply.
Even without the Old Master’s plea, he would have saved Chu Ling. But knowing this startling secret made his heart feel heavy and urgent. His desire to rescue the boy spread like a wildfire, searing his aching heart.
Brother Chu Ling… wait for me!
…
Returning to the Martial Arts Alliance at top speed, Jun Yichen ignored all other business. He was about to gather all his brothers to intercept the Demonic Sect’s “Ghost Mask.”
However, before he could finish the deployment, a brother rushed over with news: The Alliance Leader was at death’s door!
Left with no choice, Jun Yichen had to hurriedly dispatch the first group of men, ordering them to bring Chu Ling back at any cost. He then rushed to his foster father’s room.
The fact that the Alliance Leader was terminally ill was a secret known only within the inner circle to avoid instability. Inside the room, the air was thick with the smell of herbs and a heavy, suffocating atmosphere.
When Jun Yichen entered, he saw a tall figure in white retracting silver needles from his foster father’s body.
Beside the bed was a young man with red eyes, weeping silently. His beautiful, delicate face was clouded with grief; his once spirited eyes were now full of sorrow.
“Brother Chen…”
Seeing Jun Yichen, the young man’s grief erupted. He lunged into Jun Yichen’s arms, sobbing quietly.
Jun Yichen paused, patting the young man’s back comfortingly while looking at the figure in white. The man turned, revealing cold, sharp features and eyes as calm as a frozen lake.
This was the eccentric Divine Doctor, Feng Xueqin, whom they had failed to invite three times.
Jun Yichen was surprised to see him, but his father’s life was paramount. “Doctor Feng, how is my father?”
Feng Xueqin’s voice was as cold as frost, stating the fact emotionlessly. “The poison has spread through his entire body. He cannot be saved.”
Jun Yichen’s heart shook. Grief flooded his eyes. He looked at his skeletal foster father on the bed, his throat feeling as if it were blocked, unable to make a sound.
“You’re lying! My father won’t die! Why didn’t you come earlier?! If you had agreed sooner, he wouldn’t have reached this point—it’s all your fault! Waaaah!”
The young man suddenly lunged at the doctor. Jun Yichen couldn’t stop him in time, but the doctor dodged the fist easily, his expression turning colder and more impatient.
Jun Yichen shot an apologetic look at the doctor and promptly knocked the hysterical young man unconscious with a hand-chop. The room fell silent.
After handing the youth over to subordinates, Jun Yichen asked through his grief, “How much time… does my father have left?”
Seeing his state, Feng Xueqin’s tone softened slightly. “Three days. I have used the silver needles to hang onto his life for three days.”
Three days…
Jun Yichen didn’t question why the doctor only helped at the last moment; the man had been clear from the start—preparing for the funeral. They were just the ones who had held onto false hope.
He clenched his fists, his eyes dark. He would make the one who poisoned his father pay!
Now, he could only hold his foster father’s withered hand and listen to his final, difficult instructions. The Alliance Leader knew his time was up.
His biggest worry was his biological son, Jun Qing, who had no ambition for the martial world. That was why he had adopted Jun Yichen—to ensure a successor.
But he never expected his biological son to fall in love with his adopted son. Fate was a cruel joker.
In the past, he had disapproved—a man should marry a woman. But now, at death’s door, he only cared for his son’s future. With Jun Yichen as the undeniable choice for the next leader…
In his final moments, the Alliance Leader’s cloudy eyes brightened. He pressed Jun Yichen’s hand firmly and moved it, covering the hand of the beautiful Jun Qing.
“This is my final wish… are you willing to take care of Qing’er… forever?”
Under the weight of those dying eyes, Jun Yichen paused, then nodded with a dry, raspy throat.
“I… am willing…”
“Father! Waaaah!”
And so, the great Alliance Leader passed away.
As the funeral preparations began, the grief-stricken Jun Qing hid by a pond, accidentally slipping and falling in…
…
[Host, please pay attention! The main plot has officially begun!]
As the sun rose, Chu Ling woke up from a hazy sleep. He snuggled into the soft quilts, gradually recalling the system’s notification.
[So the modern corporate slave is crossing over now?]
[Yes. The Alliance Leader has passed away.]
Chu Ling sat up and stretched. The sunlight from the window draped over him like a holy glow.
[No deviations, right?] Chu Ling remembered his mission to maintain the plot.
[None. Everything is normal.]
[Good.]
Outside, Zijin and Zipei entered with washbasins. They accidentally caught a glimpse of Chu Ling’s fair, alluring skin beneath his loosened white inner robes and immediately looked down.
They served him while keeping their heads lowered the entire time.
Chu Ling chuckled and hooked a finger under one boy’s chin. Seeing the boy’s shifty, downcast eyes, he felt a bit mischievous. He leaned in and blew softly on the reddening ear.
“Zijin, why don’t you dare look at me?”
As soon as he spoke, the other boy, who looked slightly envious, couldn’t take it anymore. “Young Master, I am Zijin.”
“Eh?” Chu Ling tilted his head, confused.
It didn’t matter; they looked identical. Even though Chu Ling had named them himself, he still got them mixed up.
Breakfast—or rather, lunch—was served in an octagonal pavilion by the courtyard pond. The temperature was perfect, the scenery pleasant. Beautiful scenery, beautiful food… and an even more beautiful person.
On the nearby wall, a figure as gentle as jade appeared unnoticed, smiling at the beautiful youth in the pavilion.
In the next moment, the figure blurred and vanished, reappearing inside the courtyard, walking step-by-step toward the youth.
Zijin and Zipei immediately blocked the path, eyes full of wariness. “Stop! Who are you?!”
Tang Zhen had arrived. Though he had said he would take another path, his speed wasn’t much slower than Ji Wuyuan’s, despite some minor delays. He had arrived at Mount Tianmu only a day late.
He didn’t mind. He was here to discuss cooperation, but since he couldn’t find that enchanting silhouette anywhere, he felt it was a pity.
In front of Ji Wuyuan, Tang Zhen had been blunt, claiming he felt a “fated bond” with little brother A-Ling and wanted to meet him. Naturally, Ji Wuyuan had refused him with a dark look. But the more Ji Wuyuan hid him, the more Tang Zhen’s heart itched with curiosity.
What is so special about this boy, besides his beauty, that makes Ji Wuyuan hide him so carefully?
And so, he jumped the wall. No front door, no announcement. To be honest, it took quite some effort to find this place.
Tang Zhen’s gaze went past the two boys into the pavilion. The breeze tossed the youth’s ink-black hair; a few strands fell over his forehead. His shimmering eyes blinked—a mix of allure and innocence. A true masterpiece.
Tang Zhen’s smile deepened. “A-Ling, it’s only been a few days. Have you already forgotten your Big Brother Tang?”
Chu Ling: “…”
He watched the man who had clearly broken in without permission.
It made sense. He was the “canary” Ji Wuyuan was planning to tame, and with his special constitution, Ji Wuyuan wouldn’t let him see outsiders. Even sect members were probably forbidden from approaching.
But, the “naive” Young Master Chu didn’t know that—
The youth blinked his confused eyes, seemingly surprised to see the Master Tang he had met once before. Then, reacting, he stood up quickly. “Big Brother Tang!”
“Ah—”
Hearing “Big Brother Tang” made Tang Zhen exceptionally happy. His eyes crinkled with warm, soft laughter.
He took two steps forward, glancing sideways at the two boys still blocking him. His look seemed to say: Your master has already greeted me, aren’t you going to move?
Zijin and Zipei looked at each other and slowly stepped aside. They watched as this stranger walked into the pavilion and sat across from their master, smiling like a fox.