Little Qiyan was clearly becoming attached to little Beisi, holding his little hands and kissing his little cheeks the two little sprites were exceedingly adorable.
Chi Qiyan felt a bit restless and didn’t quite dare to look at Beisi anymore. Unexpectedly, his primordial soul, this “little traitor,” actually had his cheeks flush bright red and lowered his little head in shyness.
He couldn’t hide even a shred of his thoughts.
Anxious, Chi Qiyan attempted to recall his primordial soul, never expecting that he would actually succeed.
Yet little Qiyan looked as though he was extremely reluctant to part, gazing at Beisi with tear-filled eyes, before Chi Qiyan ruthlessly reeled him back in.
This scene, which carried a rather desperate-flight-from-danger vibe, caused the corners of Beisi’s lips to curve upward slightly, only to be met with a glare from Chi Qiyan that promptly forced him to flatten his lips straight again—how adorable.
At this moment, little Beisi flew over to Chi Qiyan’s face, his two tiny hands attempting to cradle it, though they could only cup a tiny piece of cheek flesh, and planted a tiny jiu-mi kiss right on it. The contact was faint, like a gentle breeze brushing across a cheek, yet it felt like a thunderbolt striking the earth, exploding with a resounding crash.
Beisi’s gaze smoldered quietly. Without a word, he performed an operation and pulled his own primordial soul back in as well.
Amused, Chi Qiyan smiled and watched Beisi, who maintained a thoroughly serious expression on the surface while the other blinked his eyes in a look of nothing at all happened.
He braced his hands against the ground and leaned his torso forward, their nose tips nearly touching, as if about to kiss his cheek or something similar.
Beisi watched his every move; a lover’s gaze could always drown a person completely.
Uncontrollably, Chi Qiyan’s heart beat faster. Damn it, he was always being seduced.
Yet he simply leaned forward and spoke his piece: “Then I want to go to the Kunhan Sect too.”
After saying that, he leaned his body back, and sure enough, he caught sight of a look of slight disappointment on Beisi’s face, his eyes carrying a hint of aggrieved grievance, like a large, wronged dog that didn’t speak of its grievances aloud.
Quietly, he slid his hand over to Beisi’s side and intentionally brushed against it. The next second, it was enveloped inside that pair of broad, warm hands, cozy and snug.
His words weren’t just spoken for play. After consuming the Aiyou grass, his cultivation technique had become masked; as long as he exercised sufficient caution, his identity wouldn’t be exposed, which meant he could cultivate immortality alongside Beisi and legally lengthen his lifespan.
Beisi clasped that hand—a hand that was no longer icy like before. The words just spoken once more stirred his anxiety: what if, upon telling Chi Qiyan his true identity, the other party thought he was a swindler who had deceived his feelings…
He didn’t want a single shred of estrangement to exist between him and Chi Qiyan.
Suddenly, the sound of fluttering feathers rang out, accompanied by a caw-caw cry. It was a crow; the sound seemed to emerge from that patch of jungle, and there should only have been one.
It lingered at that spot for a long time without flying away, calling out for a moment then pausing, as though something was blocking its beak.
Could this crow possibly hail from the graveyard?
The person who controlled them was clearly already dead.
Beisi instructed Chi Qiyan to stay right where he was while he went to investigate on his own. The jungle was pitch-black and rarely frequented, with weeds growing as high as a person’s waist.
The weeds parted without any wind, the movement coming from the persistently shifting crow.
Its ruby-red eyeballs were exceptionally conspicuous in the dark, but even more conspicuous than the bird was a jade plaque lying beneath its feet, radiating a lustrous white glow.
Most of it was stepped on by the bird’s foot, revealing only that it bore patterns on top, seemingly some kind of design.
The crow flew up high, its field of vision naturally wider than a human’s, and being full of curiosity toward shiny objects, it was presumably trying to carry this jade plaque away, only to find the plaque far too heavy for its bird body to lift.
The moment it saw someone approaching, it was frightened into flapping its wings and flying away, vanishing into the darkness.
Beisi picked up that jade plaque. Every family had gate plaques carved with exclusive designs; this jade plaque evidently belonged to a certain family.
The pattern was simple, yet very familiar.
How could it not be familiar? After all, he had seen it countless times within a single day—this belonged to the He clan.
Unlike other ordinary plaques, this gate plaque was crafted from top-quality mutton-fat jade, clearly indicating that its owner held no small status within the He clan.
Why was it here? Had it been lost?
Beisi looked closely and could discern the marks of weeds being trampled flat and broken. This patch of grass had been pressed out of shape, and the outlined contour was shockingly that of a human figure!
The person wasn’t small in stature, leaving behind a large expanse of traces, yet there were no signs of a fierce battle, indicating that this person either lacked formidable strength or had been completely caught off guard.
A thought flashed through Beisi’s mind, and he returned with the jade plaque in hand.
The moment he laid eyes on the jade plaque, Chi Qiyan sensed the demonic Qi remaining upon it. The patriarch had already entered Qi deviation; it seemed entirely normal for a He clan jade plaque—whoever it belonged to—to be tainted with a bit of demonic Qi.
However, when Chi Qiyan took that jade plaque from Beisi’s hand, he perceived a spell left lingering inside: it was a… tracking spell!
True to its name, anyone wearing this plaque would be tracked by the caster no matter where they went.
However, the person who cast this spell didn’t seem particularly clever a complete half-wit. The remaining demonic Qi could even be tracked in reverse; as long as he wished, he could hunt down that very person.
Beisi felt it too, and judging by the perceived distance, the caster of this tracking spell was not far away.
He explained the plaque’s unusual traits to Chi Qiyan, who was acting “completely oblivious,” and vaguely sensing that this jade plaque was linked to the events of today, asked, “Shall we follow this and see whose it is?”
Naturally, Chi Qiyan had no reason not to agree.
A wisp of white smoke, invisible to ordinary people, drifted continuously into the distance with a will of its own, floating elusively through the forest.
Beisi followed the white smoke forward; the scenery along the way was exceedingly familiar the rocks, flowers, and other landmarks were all identical.
Even without seeing the end of the smoke, one didn’t need to guess much to know this was the road leading back to the graveyard.
If the spellcaster was that patriarch, there seemed to be no further need to investigate.
That wisp of white smoke drifted past the white ash and human bones on the ground, heading straight into the depths of the graveyard.
Beisi never liked leaving things half-done; perhaps there was something different here after all.
However, when the two of them drew closer, the position of that wisp of white smoke hadn’t changed by a fraction, remaining planted right at the exact spot.
Monitoring oneself?
Beisi furrowed his brow; his spell-casting had never gone wrong before, and there had to be something bizarre about this patriarch.
“This person looks as though he isn’t dead yet.” Chi Qiyan spoke as if simply voicing a pure question.
Hearing this, Beisi checked carefully.
The person showed no fluctuating breath; normally, a person’s body would stiffen one to two hours after death, with eye sockets and cheeks sinking inward. Even with an ice bed lowering the temperature, it shouldn’t have remained with soft, pliable flesh after more than two hours; instead, it looked as though someone was supplying it with vital energy and blood to keep it fresh and lifelike.
This ice bed was rectangular, radiating a chilling cold, and seemed no different from ordinary ice beds, displaying a deep blue color that hid its internal structure from view.
Indeed, it was hidden from view.
What could possibly be inside something you couldn’t see?
To guard against anything unclean lingering on the corpse, Beisi used internal energy to move the body away. This was an exceptionally flat ice bed, its surface smooth as before.
There were no loopholes to be found in any direction to peer inside the ice bed—only blue.
Beisi knocked on the ice bed; a dull thumping sound confirmed it was solid.
And that wisp of white smoke still pointed right here.
There was a person inside this ice bed!
Shielding Chi Qiyan behind him, Beisi slashed horizontally across the ice bed with his sword, and a rectangular block of ice flew off with a swish.
The ice bed thinned out, finally revealing its true appearance to the world.
A person there truly was a person inside, complexion deathly pale, eyes staring straight up at the sky, hands pressed tightly against the sides of their legs, feet closed together in a very rigid, formal posture.
Yet starting from the calves, there was an obvious shrinkage; the clothing collapsed inward even more markedly it was muscular atrophy.
This person was paralyzed.
Sealed inside the ice bed, their appearance had barely changed, but their body was fat and bulky, instantly telling anyone that their meals and lifestyle had been exceptionally well-provided for.
Taking a closer look at this plump face, its facial features actually bore a striking resemblance to the He clan patriarch.
“It’s He Ru,” Beisi affirmed.
This corpse was the young master the storyteller had mentioned.
Was this young master already dead?
Beisi and Chi Qiyan recalled what the scar-faced man and the storyteller had said; looking at their demeanor, they had been entirely oblivious to the fact that the vicious young master they spoke of was already dead, dead inside his own father’s ice bed.
The ice had slowed the rate of decay, making it impossible to tell at a glance precisely when he had died.
If the real young master was dead, then who exactly was the young master during this period? Did he never exist at all, or was someone else impersonating him?
Looking at the jade plaque in his hand, Beisi realized the patriarch had actually been monitoring his own son. He said to Chi Qiyan, “I want to head back to the He residence once more.”
Chi Qiyan, surprisingly, felt a trace of curiosity as well. The two of them headed back toward the He residence by the same route.
Daybreak.
The streets were bustling with life, crowded with people coming and going, while the hawkers’ cries echoed endlessly.
The He residence was situated in a bustling street alley. With few people on the street last night, today naturally brought out crowds in the daytime.
Having tossed and turned all night, Beisi originally intended to return to the He residence only after nightfall. Who would have known that the moment they stepped into the alley, they would be met with several waves of intense stares—some blatant, others covert prompting him to realize immediately that something must have happened.
“It’s him! Quick, everyone grab him!”
Following the first person’s shout, others echoed the call in succession. Some snatched up clubs, others grabbed vegetable leaves, curses flew thick and fast, and they all swarmed forward.
“Murderer!”
“He killed our guardian deity!”
Beisi had never witnessed such a scene in his entire life, being hunted down and beaten so fiercely by a mob for the very first time.
Back when he was the chief disciple, he was held up among the stars, showered with respect; let alone being beaten, not even a harsh word was ever directed at him. Truly, this was a bride getting onto the sedan chair for the very first time—a brand new experience.
Chi Qiyan was intimately familiar with this picture; these curses were like mild breezes compared to the abuse he had suffered in the past, causing not a single ripple of emotional fluctuation in him. Yet today, these people were cursing his beloved.
These people were all so incessantly noisy; if they all died, it would finally quiet down. Chi Qiyan twitched his fingers, standing behind Beisi as he swept a cold gaze over each and every person, wrapping around them like chilling, venomous snakes with tangible substance.
The moment their eyes met, the temperature dropped sharply, and the scene actually quieted down for a moment, presenting a bizarre atmosphere.
Beisi could easily have slaughtered all these people, but he chose to pull Chi Qiyan along and flee together.
The moment they broke eye contact with Chi Qiyan, the crowd finally felt a sense of relief, drawing in fresh air once more.
Chi Qiyan still harbored a trace of dissatisfaction inside: how could he bear to let anyone hurl abuse at the person he couldn’t even bear to wrong? He cared nothing for right or wrong; as long as it was his person, even if they broke heavenly law, it was not up to outsiders to pass judgment.
The two of them moved at lightning speed, vanishing in a flash. Looking around to confirm there was no one else about, Beisi finally stopped and set Chi Qiyan down—his first reflex just now had been to scoop Chi Qiyan up and fly away in a rush.
“It must be because of yesterday’s break-in at the He residence,” Beisi guessed.
Nine times out of ten.
This town held a blind, mysterious sense of trust toward the He residence; for instance, back at the tavern, the moment the He clan stepped out, the townspeople instantly quieted down.
Now, the two of them had become like rats crossing the street here, reviled by everyone.
Rustling sounds suddenly erupted beside them.