The group, supporting the blood-spitting Dao Son of Shaoyue Sect and carrying the unconscious Buddhist Son, arrived at the main hall on the sect’s primary peak.
After Sang Jinse fed him a cup of awakening tea, Jing Nian slowly regained consciousness. His emotions were still stuck in that moment just before falling to demonhood—his eyes were red, his expression obsessive—clearly someone driven mad by love.
However—
When Jing Nian saw that the person holding him and feeding him tea was none other than his beloved, his twisted features instantly calmed, and he even nuzzled closer into Sang Jinse’s embrace.
Everyone: “???”
Shouldn’t you, as a Buddhist Son, maintain some reserve in public?
“So what’s the deal?” Gu Qi fanned the flames. “No way—he’s already broken his precepts, and he’s still not falling to demonhood?”
“Nephew Gu, why don’t you say a little less?” In front of Senior Brother Yun, Ye Juan was back to playing the righteous good guy. “Young friend Jing Nian is, after all, an honored guest of our Yaoyue Sect. If we make him faint from anger again, that’s not how we treat guests.”
Jing Nian looked up, glancing in Ye Juan’s direction.
Wasn’t the Sword Master just outside… fanning the flames the most enthusiastically? Now he was pretending to be proper?
Sikong Qin, pale-faced after just vomiting blood, sat on the other side of the hall, gazing gloomily toward Jing Nian. Seeing that monk still leaning in Sang Jinse’s embrace with such a serene expression, rage surged within him.
“Senior Sister Sang, that Buddhist Son is full of tricks—don’t fall for his schemes…” The youth in green robes, frail-looking yet refined, said.
“I’m full of tricks?” Jing Nian frowned. “Who was it that shamelessly insisted on following us here?”
“Both of you, stop arguing,” Sang Jinse gestured toward the Immortal Lord seated at the head of the hall, lowering her voice. “My master is right here…”
Jing Nian and Sikong Qin both looked up. There sat the white-robed Immortal Lord on his jade throne, silver hair cascading like flowing clouds, his entire being cold as pine and snow. His indifferent, compassionate silver-gray eyes held nothing—as if he hadn’t noticed their little drama at all.
If it weren’t for the fact that they represented Lianhua Sect and Shaoyue Sect, the Immortal Lord probably wouldn’t even have received them.
The atmosphere suddenly became eerily quiet.
After a long moment, the Immortal Lord finally spoke coolly: “Since there’s no serious injury, see the guests out.”
“Senior Brother Yun, next month is the decade-annual Sword Trial Conference. According to past practice, it’s not limited to our sect’s disciples—all righteous path disciples may participate.” Ye Juan suddenly spoke up. “Why not let these two young friends stay and exchange pointers?”
Ning Ying: …
She suspected her uncle-master just wanted to keep watching the drama.
Sikong Qin seized the opportunity to perform a proper courtesy: “Indeed. I came precisely to participate in the Sword Trial Conference. I didn’t expect this monk to chase after me indiscriminately…”
Jing Nian shot Sikong Qin a covert glare, then pressed his palms together toward the Immortal Lord: “Amitābha, Sect Leader Yun, I also came to exchange martial skills with your sect’s disciples.”
“In that case, you may stay.” Yun Qingyuan said. “Xiao Sang, take them to the guest quarters on the main peak.”
“Yes, Master.”
Sang Jinse acknowledged the order and led the two away.
After the love-hate trio departed, the strange atmosphere in the main hall eased considerably.
Gu Qi, who hadn’t spoken much, rose and bowed to the Immortal Lord: “Master, I’ll take my leave too.”
Ye Juan lazily waved at Yun Qingyuan: “Senior Brother Yun, I’m off.”
Yun Qingyuan nodded slightly.
Watching her uncle-master and senior brother leave, Ning Ying didn’t need to guess—they were definitely sneaking after them to keep eating that gossip!
She suddenly remembered that Junior Brother Chu had prepared a table of food, waiting for Uncle-Master Ye and her to return…
Ning Ying was about to take her leave when she heard her master say: “Aying, come with me.”
“Master, I, I have something to do…” Ning Ying instinctively wanted to refuse.
What could her master want? Probably sword practice. At noon? No way, QAQ.
Yun Qingyuan’s expression remained cool and silent, unbothered by her refusal. As if seeing through her thoughts, he said gently: “It’s not about sword practice.”
Since her master had put it that way, Ning Ying couldn’t very well refuse.
And besides… she belatedly realized that everyone seemed quite afraid of him. Even the unrestrained Uncle-Master Ye restrained himself considerably in the master’s presence.
She nodded and followed behind her master to a mist-shrouded pavilion on the main peak.
Yun Qingyuan was the sect leader—the main peak was under his jurisdiction, but he preferred quiet and spent most days at Duiying Peak, only appearing on the main peak for sect business.
“Sit.” Yun Qingyuan said simply.
Ning Ying obediently sat on a cushion before the tea table and looked outward.
Translucent curtains fluttered in the wind; clouds surged beyond the window, wind howled, the azure sky stretched fathomless, and ethereal immortal light drifted among the clouds—inspiring a feeling of leaving the mundane world behind.
Yun Qingyuan’s lashes drooped slightly.
The girl rested her cheek on her hand, her lively, clear eyes gazing out the window.
Cloud shadows and sky light reflected on her soft features, casting a thin, soft glow. He looked down at her, watched her puff her cheeks slightly, blink with wandering eyes, and cover her mouth to yawn.
Deep within the silver-haired beauty’s ethereal eyes surfaced a hint of a smile, unnoticed even by himself.
He sat on the other side of the tea table, casually producing osmanthus cakes, almond biscuits, glutinous rice dumplings, and other mortal delicacies from his robes.
“Your master descended the mountain earlier and remembered you like these mortal treats, so I bought some casually.”
He wouldn’t tell her that he’d gone down the mountain specifically to buy these for her.
—And that was precisely why, passing by the sect gate, the Immortal Lord had happened upon Jing Nian, Sikong Qin, and the others.
Ning Ying’s pupils dilated slightly.
The paper-wrapped pastries were still warm, carrying her master’s body heat.
The tips of her ears flushed bright red. Her hand, which had been unwrapping the pastries, froze mid-motion. Through the paper, her fingertips seemed to feel his warmth.
Her master’s presence was always cold as pine and snow. Was the spot over his heart warm too?
Ning Ying shook her head, dispelling this absurd thought. She kept her head low, focusing on eating, as if terrified her master might see her expression.
Yun Qingyuan sat across from her, deliberately pouring a cup of tea and pushing it toward her.
“Eat slowly. It’s all yours.”
Ning Ying accepted the tea with both hands: “Thank you, Master.”
After quietly watching her finish eating and drinking, he finally broached the subject subtly.
“Aying, your master doesn’t prohibit disciples from freely dating. That your senior sister dates two at once, I won’t interfere either.”
Ning Ying looked up in confusion: “?”
Why bring this up now? Inspired by today’s senior sister gossip?
“But the Demon Lord won’t do.”
His gentle eyes took on a sharp, bone-chilling coldness.
Ning Ying instinctively asked: “Why not?”
The silver-haired beauty’s fingers gripping his teacup tightened slightly. He said calmly: “It just won’t do.”
Ning Ying was somewhat bewildered: “Who wants to date the Demon Lord? Senior Sister?”
The corner of Yun Qingyuan’s eye twitched slightly. “Never mind. Finished eating? Go practice sword.”
Ning Ying wailed: “Wuwuwu, still have to practice?!”
In the end, Ning Ying didn’t go practice swords. Using the excuse of “visiting Uncle-Master Ye,” she tugged at her master’s sleeve and begged him to agree.
Yun Qingyuan’s expression was indifferent, somewhat reluctant: “Is your Uncle-Master Ye really that wonderful, that you visit him every day?”
Ning Ying couldn’t bring herself to admit that she wanted to mooch another meal at Bixu Peak at noon—which was precisely why she’d only eaten one or two osmanthus cakes.
She simply tugged lightly at his sleeve, swaying it gently like a child pleading with an elder, gazing at him with imploring, limpid eyes.
“Let go of your master’s sleeve first,” Yun Qingyuan said helplessly.
“Not letting go unless Master agrees.” Ning Ying stole a glance at her master’s expression. Seeing only helplessness, not anger, she grew bolder. “I really do have legitimate business with Uncle-Master Ye.”
Eating was definitely legitimate business.
“Your master will go with you.” Yun Qingyuan ultimately couldn’t bear to shake her off. His tone was cool.
“Master, you want to mooch a meal too?” No sooner had Ning Ying spoken than she realized she’d let it slip.
Damn. Bad company really is contagious.—it seemed her IQ had been lowered by the Demon Lord too.
Yun Qingyuan: “…”