“Bei Xuanshang is the standout among the younger generation, the chief disciple of the top sect! At the Qionglan Banquet, that evil entity was pressed down and beaten by him! As the saying goes, righteousness prevails over evil, and that evil entity has been beaten so badly it hasn’t dared to show its face since…”
Spittle flying everywhere, the storyteller down below spoke as if he had experienced it firsthand. The audience echoed his sentiments in unison, filled with righteous indignation.
“Well said! How could the chief’s strength ever compare to that of a mere evil entity?”
“Haha, it probably rolled away with its tail between its legs after getting beaten up!”
On the second floor, a youth in crimson robes leaned against the railing, sipping tea leisurely. Listening to the fervent denunciation of the evil entity coming from downstairs, he dropped his eyelids slightly, bestowing a glance upon the crowd below.
Tiresome.
Chi Xinyan tapped his fingertip lightly against the side of the tea cup. With such a massive evil entity like him sitting right here, not a single person had noticed.
The bottom of the tea cup vaguely reflected his features. This face was pure and innocent, completely different from his true appearance—a disguise forged to be virtually indistinguishable from reality.
The tea was nearly bottoming out; the time for a cup of tea was almost up.
Only then did Chi Xinyan graciously raise his head. His lover had gone to scout out the whereabouts of the Aiyou grass and should be returning soon.
At the thought of this, a spark of brightness involuntarily lit up his eyes.
“That chief has always been intolerant of evil; an evil entity like that must be hunted down and eradicated on sight…” The storyteller struck his fan excitedly, drawing the attention of a crowd.
Chi Xinyan dismissed them with a look of disdain, bypassing the group to gaze out toward the entrance of the tavern. People came and went in a constant stream, but there was still no sign of that person’s figure.
The rhythm of his fingers tapping against the tea cup unconsciously accelerated. Suddenly, his gaze locked in place; his slightly narrowed eyes widened, rounding out and sparkling brightly, looking just like an obedient, cute little cat.
The man at the entrance stood head and shoulders above the rest. With rugged and handsome facial features, sword-like eyebrows slanting up into his temples, thin lips pressed lightly together, and a posture as upright as a solitary bamboo peak amidst isolation, his temperament was completely refined and otherworldly.
As the man stepped inside, he swept a casual glance over the storyteller currently speaking, and then—as if sensing something—raised his head. His sharp eyes instantly locked onto Chi Xinyan. The moment their gazes met, the piercing ice within those dark pupils melted away, the stern lines of his face softening visibly to the naked eye.
Only then did Chi Xinyan release the tea cup in his hand, watching as the man strode rapidly up the stairs.
Before long, the door to the small private alcove pushed open, and Bei Si entered.
Chi Xinyan’s eyebrows furrowed slightly in a soft, complaining manner as he remarked, “You were just a cup’s dregs away from being late.”
It was punctual, but cutting it dangerously close.
Upon hearing this, Bei Si was not annoyed; instead, he laughed. Knowing Chi Xinyan’s playful nature, he stepped closer to this pampered little cat, closing the distance between their faces until they were mere inches apart, and asked, “Was the story good to listen to?”
“Boring,” Chi Xinyan replied offhandedly.
Listen to stories? He himself was the protagonist in the storyteller’s mouth; listening could never compare to the thrill of experiencing it firsthand.
A tiny trace of disappointment flashed through the depths of Bei Si’s eyes—not for any other reason, but because he was Bei Xuanshang, merely having altered his appearance slightly.
He didn’t care how others viewed his battle achievements, but the person before him was entirely different. It seemed his previous fights against the evil entity hadn’t been brutal or thrilling enough.
Chi Xinyan didn’t understand why someone was feeling dejected, but he still reached out to stroke the other’s face in appeasement, coaxing softly, “If you had been there, it wouldn’t have been boring.”
Bei Si lifted his eyelids, fixing a heavy gaze on Chi Xinyan. Standing at eight feet tall, he was a full head taller than Chi Xinyan, radiating a heavy sense of oppression.
Chi Xinyan used his other hand to press against the approaching chest of the other man, feeling the fabric of a white robe beneath his fingertips.
What was wrapped beneath this unassuming piece of clothing, he knew better than anyone. This solid, powerful body had carried him up and down through countless drifting nights.
His face grew hot as he thought to himself that this fellow was trying to seduce him again, a strange sense of anticipation inexplicably welling up in his heart.
Feigning ignorance, he asked, “Did you find out where the Aiyou grass is?”
“Roughly,” Bei Si replied. “Stealing something from the black market and leaving behind zero traces—the identity is unusual.”
Chi Xinyan’s mind wasn’t on the words at all. He couldn’t care less whether the identity was unusual or not. What big deal was it? If he killed them, it would be over. Once someone was dead, who cared what status they had?
He shifted his body slightly, closing the distance between them even further.
To his surprise, Bei Si took a step back.
Chi Xinyan’s hands hung empty in the air. As the scorching touch left him, his pupils dilated. Before he could squeeze out a bit of grievance, he watched Bei Si retrieve a paper parcel from his storage ring and hand it over.
Catching sight of this familiar packaging, Chi Xinyan didn’t even have time to vent his annoyance. His eyebrows relaxed, his eyes brightened with joy, and he exclaimed happily, “Taoyuan pastry?”
He impatiently took the paper package. Even before unwrapping it, the scent drifted out. Tearing open the packaging in a flash, the pastry aroma instantly intensified, filling the air with a faint, inviting fragrance of fresh peaches tempting yet fresh paired with thin, flaky pastry sprinkled with sesame seeds.
Chi Xinyan was about to pick it up directly with his hands when his fingertips were gently grasped by Bei Si.
Performing a spell with one hand in mid-air, Bei Si cleansed Chi Xinyan’s hands and reminded him, “You must clean your hands before eating, otherwise you’ll easily get an upset stomach.”
Chi Xinyan nodded obediently, though his eyes remained fixed on the Taoyuan pastry in his hands.
Given his constitution, even if thousands of different types of poisonous insects bit him, he wouldn’t be poisoned. But who told him that his current identity was a “fragrant, fragile mortal”? Mortals’ bodies were all exceptionally delicate.
After picking up the pastry, just as he opened his mouth to take a bite, he suddenly paused, blinked, flipped his hand over, and instead offered the first bite to the man.
Bei Si lowered his eyelashes, leaning down to meet his hand. Just as he was about to taste it, Chi Xinyan intentionally pulled his hand back a fraction, feeling immensely pleased with himself as he tried to “get back” at the other.
Little did he know, Bei Si had long anticipated his little prank. With hands much larger than his, Bei Si easily enclosed Chi Xinyan’s wrist. The force was light and painless, but scorching hot, wrapping around him like a warm iron ring.
Bei Si chuckled softly, pulling that fair hand closer and lowering his head to bite into the pastry resting in Chi Xinyan’s palm. Whether intentional or accidental, his teeth gently grazed Chi Xinyan’s fingertips, sending a tingling, numbing sensation rippling through him.
Looking into the other’s crafty gaze, how could Chi Xinyan not know? This was definitely on purpose.
Well, the pastry could wait. After all, there was a far more attractive treat right in front of him right now…
Chi Xinyan grabbed the collar of the other’s robe, applying gentle pressure. True to form, the man obediently lowered his head like a well-behaved puppy, submitting to his will.
The window had closed at some unknown point.
A pair of scorching, powerful hands rested upon Chi Xinyan’s slender waist, the heat burning straight into his heart.
His body was naturally excessively cold; even in the scorching heat of midsummer, touching him felt like gripping a block of ice. Yet precisely these hands at his waist conjured a raging prairie fire.
Bei Si neither avoided nor retreated, pressing closer to him. Even though they had done much more intimate things, Chi Xinyan still felt the tips of his ears burning hot, his entire body enveloped in a raging blaze.
Their foreheads pressed together, each biting onto opposite ends of the pastry. As the pastry gradually disappeared, their scalding breaths intertwined, their lips and teeth nearly brushing.
The storyteller downstairs was still recounting that legendary battle between immortals and fiends. The chaotic noises seemed to come from a distant realm, leaving only the sound of pounding heartbeats echoing in his ears.
Who would have guessed the heavens wouldn’t cooperate?
The entire building suddenly shuddered violently, followed by a series of cracking wood splintering apart. The previously harmonious and joyful scene instantly morphed into wails of terror and shrieks.
Chi Xinyan instantly felt a surge of annoyance at being interrupted. Just who on earth was disturbing them?
If he killed them, everything could finally quiet down.
Killing intent flashed through the depths of his eyes. Before Bei Si could look over, he quickly concealed it. A man’s warmth lingered at his waist, and the face he had traced through countless dreams was right before him, demanding all his attention—he couldn’t afford to slip up.
He knew clearly in his heart that people downstairs were fighting. Many against one, and the one had enough physical bulk that being flung into the building caused the entire tavern to shake as if in an earthquake.
He took the opportunity to snuggle into Bei Si’s embrace, shifting his gaze and asking with feigned ignorance, “What’s going on?”
“Someone must be fighting,” Bei Si replied, catching him. Noticing Chi Xinyan’s eyelashes trembling slightly as if frightened, he comforted him softly, “Don’t be afraid, I can protect you.”
His tone was exceptionally resolute and confident.
Following that, Bei Si produced a crystal-clear, emerald-green double-fish jade pendant and placed it into Chi Xinyan’s palm, saying, “Even if I’m not around, this jade pendant can save your life.”
Resting in his palm, the jade pendant felt warm and comforting. Chi Xinyan knew this wasn’t the time to examine it closely, yet a warmth bloomed in his heart.
Why would he be afraid? If anything, the ones who should be afraid were the bunch of people downstairs. Bei Si was just an ordinary rogue cultivator; whether he could protect him was up for debate, but protecting Bei Si with his own strength would be effortless.
Chi Xinyan gave a soft acknowledgment. Bei Si shielded him behind his back, approached the window, cracked open a gap, and observed the situation.
Downstairs, a long sliding mark cut right across the middle of the floor!
Amidst a pile of wooden wreckage, a burly man leveraged a broadsword to push himself up. Lifting his head, he glared angrily toward the entrance. That face, covered in fresh knife scars, was exposed directly to the public like the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, terrifying enough to frighten a child into wetting themselves!
The townspeople fled frantically like headless flies, descending into utter chaos where people tripped over one another and scrambled in panic, terrified of being caught in the crossfire.
Right at that moment, a group of people strode imposingly into the building, all clad in unified yellow attire clearly belonging to the same clan or family.
Finding a backbone amidst the panic, the terrified citizens quieted down slightly, making the entire building seem somewhat peaceful by comparison.
“Hmph, a few nameless juniors actually want to capture me alive?” Covered in blood and battered, the scar-faced man merely sneered coldly, showing not a shred of panic.
The leader of the yellow-robed group stepped forward, raising his voice so that everyone in the building could hear: “Uncle-master, knowing today would come, why on earth did you collude with the demonic cultivators in the first place? Senior Sister has already been killed by your actions! Don’t you feel even a shred of guilt?”
A flash of grief crossed the scar-faced man’s eyes, followed instantly by fury. The broadsword in his right hand hummed and vibrated, radiating a bloodthirsty desire.
Chi Xinyan found it utterly uninteresting. He had seen far too many of these kill-or-be-killed dramas; there was no real amusement in it. Anyone with eyes could tell the scar-faced man was bound to fail his escape.
His fingertips lightly hooked against Bei Si’s, and he couldn’t help twiddling and playing with them, only to have his hand pinned down the next second.
He lifted his eyes innocently, tilting his head in silent question.
Seeing this, Bei Si let out a helpless sigh, relaxed his grip, and allowed Chi Xinyan to continue toying with his hand.
Chi Xinyan hooked the corners of his lips. Just as he was about to withdraw his gaze, a fleeting glance from the scar-faced man caught his attention, stopping him in his tracks. That look was extremely brief, yet it couldn’t escape his sharp eyes.
Following the direction of that momentary glance, his eyes swept over a figure sitting composedly on a stool, completely unlike the ordinary townsfolk who were scrambling around in panic.
This person… was actually the storyteller!
He was clean-shaven without a beard, gently tapping his folding fan against his other hand, looking completely unperturbed.
Only then did Chi Xinyan gain a bit of interest, watching the farce unfold below with relish. So there was an insider here a classic case of luring the enemy into the trap.
However, this matter had nothing to do with them; it was someone else’s family business. As long as the fire didn’t spread to them, Chi Xinyan had never been one to meddle in unnecessary affairs.
Down below, the leading man raised the sharp sword in his hand, channeling his spiritual energy into it. A flash of white light erupted, and the sword tip instantly locked onto the scar-faced man with unstoppable momentum.
The scar-faced man didn’t dodge. With a flick of the storyteller’s sleeve, his folding fan shot out like a dart. Moving with blinding speed, it had already turned into a blurred afterimage, piercing forward like a sword to intercept the oncoming blade.
The leader couldn’t maintain his grip, and his sword was sent flying with a violent shockwave!
To everyone’s surprise, that sword flew straight toward the second floor, heading precisely for the room where Chi Xinyan was located.
It shot through the air like an arrow.
Chi Xinyan didn’t even blink. He smoothly leaned back against Bei Si, his hand trembling as it intertwined with those knife-calloused fingers, closing his eyes in a show of fright.
Sensing his lover’s terror, Bei Si squeezed those soft fingers with a heart full of ache to offer comfort, murmuring, “Don’t be afraid.”
Turning his head back, a flash of sword light gleamed in his eyes. Without any visible movement, that incoming sword was forcefully deflected off course.
Everyone was concentrated on the ongoing battle; no one paid attention to this flying sword, let alone noticed the commotion here.
He Run, the leader, stumbled heavily, his weapon knocked clean out of his hands.
The storyteller leisurely recalled his fan and straightened up. Sitting on the stool earlier, his stature hadn’t been fully visible, but now that he stood, it was shocking to discover that this man was less than seven feet tall.
Seeing their senior brother beaten down, the group of yellow-robed disciples panicked, their fear instantly turning into rage.
Staring angrily at the culprit, their eyes widened in shock.
“Second Elder? Isn’t he dead?!”
“Why is his beard gone?!”
He Run managed to steady himself, his limbs aching and burning with pain, and roared in fury, “What are you all still standing around for?!”
As the storyteller closed in on the scar-faced man to join forces, the yellow-robed disciples threw caution to the wind and unleashed their killing moves. Sword qi flew wildly, showing not a shred of regard for anyone else inside the building.
Chi Xinyan twitched the corner of his lips. People of the righteous path were truly hypocritical.
Taking advantage of everyone’s attention still fixed on the recent turn of events, He Run shook a yellow talisman from his sleeve. The red cinnabar writing danced wildly upon it, exuding a strange aura.
The moment it dropped, the talisman dissolved into thin air, silent and formless.
“It’s poison!” Realizing something was wrong, the scar-faced man roared.
Bei Si’s eyes narrowed slightly how insidious. He didn’t even need to use spells to completely block the toxic miasma, but Chi Xinyan was different.
When immortals fight, mortals suffer.
The townspeople inside this building would all end up suffering as well.
Turning around, he secured Chi Xinyan’s meridians. Fearing he might frighten Chi Xinyan, he simply scooped him up by the waist, vaulted out through the window, landed steadily on the ground outside, and instructed, “Wait here for me, I’ll be right back.”
Chi Xinyan suppressed the dissatisfaction rising in his heart. Without needing to be told, he already knew what Bei Si was going to do. Why bother worrying about these commoners? Even the sect disciples guarding this place didn’t care about their lives.
On the surface, he nodded obediently, putting on a well-behaved act.
Bei Si couldn’t resist lightly rubbing the top of his head before flashing back into the building.
Fighting sounds echoed from inside the building. Lowering his gaze, Chi Xinyan solemnly examined the jade pendant in his hand, his thoughts drifting far away.
After narrowly escaping the encirclement of the righteous path, he had changed his name, lived in seclusion to heal his injuries, and concealed his demonic powers.
Yet he happened to run into Bei Si, and was mistakenly identified as a mortal—saved by him, just like the townspeople in the building today.
Chi Xinyan only knew one thing: he must not expose himself, absolutely must not expose himself. His true identity was that of a vicious fiend who had slaughtered countless people, a public enemy hunted by all!
Playing weak while lying low wasn’t a bad option after all.
Initially, Bei Si had found him too delicate and fragile, but later on, he took it upon himself to care for him, sharing the same bed night after night.
Chi Xinyan caressed the jade pendant in his hands affectionately, finally unable to help smiling.
Cupping the pendant, he traced the two entwined emerald fish—their tails and heads wrapping into one another—feeling the warm, smooth contours of the jade as if touching the very heart of his lover.
He extended his divine sense to probe the function of the jade pendant.
The moment they made contact, roaring billows instantly came crashing over him. Vast, surging, and potent spiritual power erupted into a blinding golden light that shone almost as bright as daylight!
His soul trembled deeply!
Not because he was overawed, not because of spiritual resonance, but because… that sword intent had once pierced straight through his entire soul, stirring up the agonizing pain of a million ants gnawing at his flesh.
He could never forget this sword intent it belonged to that Chief of the Immortal Sect!
He couldn’t help exerting force with his fingertips, wanting to shatter the jade pendant in his grip. Just as the fiery tongues of his internal demonic power were about to brush against it, he took a deep breath and forcibly suppressed the rebellious impulse of his soul.
The warm, cool jade pendant now felt like a hot potato in his hand.
Why did Bei Si’s jade pendant carry that person’s sword intent?