Chapter 4

Song Qingshi finally connected the child with the red tear mole from his memory to the peerless beauty on the golden bird perch.

A busybody, overhearing their conversation, clapped and chuckled, "Xie Que's methods are truly depraved. The scene when his little disciple uncovers the truth must be quite amusing."

Since embarking on his path of cultivation, Jin Feiren had taken countless beauties, yet the memory of Yue Wuhuan's arrival still sparked his interest: "That year, on my eight-hundredth birthday, countless guests arrived. I hosted a grand banquet right here on Langgan Terrace to celebrate with my friends. Xie Que brought Wuhuan along. He seemed to have told Wuhuan that he was sending him to Golden Phoenix Manor to learn swordsmanship. Wuhuan was overjoyed. But when Xie Que produced the Divine Sense Bead at the feast and asked me to 'inspect the goods,' the disbelief on his face was truly adorable..."

Jin Feiren idly tangled his fingers in the white-robed youth's long hair, compelling him to gaze at the flutist on the golden bird perch, then meticulously recounted the past events to the assembly:

Back then, Yue Wuhuan had just come of age. He wore the moon-hued robes favored by immortal sect disciples, a sword at his waist, his hair neatly bound by a simple white jade crown. He exuded an aura of purity and refinement, his features delicate, his phoenix eyes bright and clear. His dignified bearing suggested he was no ordinary mortal, but rather a young master from an immortal clan.

He bowed earnestly to each Immortal Master present, then eagerly informed Jin Feiren that he had reached the mid-stage of Foundation Establishment and would diligently study swordsmanship at Golden Phoenix Manor, striving to live up to his master's expectations and become a formidable Sword Cultivator like Mo Yuan. Everyone at the table chuckled, their laughter laced with suggestive undertones. Yue Wuhuan, sensing something amiss, tried to retreat, but Jin Feiren had already descended, forcefully grasping his hand, examining it closely, and then, with a smile, remarked, "Such beautiful hands are not suited for swordsmanship; they are better suited for serving others."

Yue Wuhuan's face paled as he desperately tried to withdraw his hand.

Jin Feiren released him, laughing, "Immortal Lord Xie, since you've brought such fine merchandise, surely you'll allow me to inspect it?"

The guests joined in, clamoring for an immediate inspection.

Yue Wuhuan watched, helpless, as his master produced a red bead, infused it with Divine Sense, and stripped him of all bodily control. His trembling hands, against his will, reached for his waist and cast aside his most cherished longsword like refuse. Then, his belt fell, his moon-hued robes peeled away layer by layer, exposing his dignity completely before everyone. His small, cherished dream was ground to dust.

A hush fell over the hall, all eyes captivated by the breathtaking spectacle.

Even Jin Feiren couldn't help but sit up straighter.

Trapped within his controlled spirit, Yue Wuhuan struggled, wishing for immediate death. He looked pleadingly at his master, his beautiful lips moving silently in desperate supplication. Finally, Xie Que approached him, gently extending a hand, just as he had done countless times before, stroking his head and praising him.

Xie Que tenderly removed his white jade crown.

The white jade crown hit the ground, shattering into pieces. His slightly curled long hair cascaded down like a waterfall to his waist, concealing the alluring Pleasure Seal on his fair back. The despair and helplessness in his dark golden phoenix eyes were enough to ignite any destructive impulse. The red tear mole was irresistibly alluring, transforming the once-beautiful youth into an enchanting temptress under control.

Yue Wuhuan struggled, lowering his head, seeking to hide his humiliation in the darkness.

Xie Que seized Yue Wuhuan's long hair and yanked it back fiercely, forcing the utterly mortified youth to lift his head, allowing everyone to behold his devastating beauty.

He smiled and declared, "My judgment has never been wrong."

...

The flute music grew increasingly tender, and within its tenderness, increasingly sorrowful.

Song Qingshi's throat tightened with grief, making it difficult to breathe. He gradually understood the meaning behind Yue Wuhuan's words by the riverbank. It was as if he saw his past self, imprisoned within his own body, crying out daily, yet no one heard his plea for help.

He no longer wished to ponder; the answer had already formed in his mind.

He wanted to save this scarred, beautiful bird.

Song Qingshi began frantically considering how he could naturally take Yue Wuhuan away.

The music ended, the flute's notes fading, its lingering resonance still in the air.

The guests were already stirred with desire, some even behaving indecorously.

Jin Feiren rose and grandly announced, "Tonight, Golden Phoenix Manor offers this plaything for the enjoyment of all our immortal friends. Please, indulge yourselves to the fullest."

Song Qingshi was startled and looked over anxiously. Yet Yue Wuhuan merely raised an eyebrow, as if long accustomed to such scenes. He brazenly flirted with the Immortal Masters nearby, extending a slender leg from beneath his feathered skirt, making the bells on his golden shackles jingle as he subtly swayed, as if inviting them to partake.

The young master of the Moon Veil Sect, consumed by desire, seized that foot, intending to rip off the feathered skirt and drag him away for his amusement.

Suddenly, screams erupted from outside the hall as maids and servants fled in panic—a demonic tiger had burst in. Its eyes glowed crimson as it growled lowly at Yue Wuhuan, as if eyeing a delicious prey. Yet Yue Wuhuan's gaze grew unfocused, as if drugged, showing no fear. He actually began to walk toward the demonic tiger, seemingly unaware of what it was...

Venerable Lingbao exclaimed in surprise, "Is this a performance arranged by our host tonight? What a grand gesture!"

The guests, deep in their cups, found it incredibly stimulating and cheered wildly.

The white-robed youth finally couldn't bear it any longer. He pushed Jin Feiren aside and cried out, "Stop! Don't do this! This... this has gone too far!"

Jin Feiren was somewhat perplexed. He had indeed arranged for a demonic tiger to hunt slaves tonight, but only ordinary ones; he would never waste a beauty like Yue Wuhuan on such a thing. But with the guests in high spirits and Yue Wuhuan playing along, it would be impolite to spoil the fun. Moreover, the youth's accusation made him feel he had lost face, so he sneered, "Why not? You should open your eyes and watch closely. If you dare defy my wishes again, I'll make sure you experience the same treatment."

The white-robed youth's face turned deathly pale. He opened his mouth but dared not utter another sound.

As Yue Wuhuan approached, the demonic tiger grew even more frenzied, losing all reason. It clawed at Yue Wuhuan's shoulders and bit down, tearing a bloody, mangled gash. The pain finally jolted Yue Wuhuan from his daze, and he recoiled, but the tiger relentlessly continued to claw and bite, intent on tearing its fleeing prey to shreds.

Song Qingshi finally found a suitable attack spell in his predecessor's memories. He condensed the Netherworld Ghost Flame into a hair-thin needle and shot it at the demonic tiger. The tiger roared and lifted its head, causing the needle, intended for its neck, to strike its leg instead.

Fortunately, the Netherworld Ghost Flame's potent venom rapidly spread through the demonic tiger. The tiger instantly stiffened, toppled over, and moments later dissolved into boiling corrosive fluid, vanishing without a trace.

Song Qingshi rose and walked to Yue Wuhuan, who lay in a pool of blood, swiftly sealing the wound and pressing several acupoints for emergency hemostasis.

Yue Wuhuan trembled in agony, gasping for breath, his beautiful face smeared with blood, looking like a vengeful spirit. His eyes held no joy of rescue for Song Qingshi, only deep resentment and despair. Finally, before losing consciousness, he whispered, in a voice almost inaudible, "I must have been blind..."

Song Qingshi placed a spiritual pill in his mouth to preserve his life force.

Jin Feiren approached, displeased. "Immortal Lord Song, why did you kill my demonic tiger?"

This demonic tiger was his prized possession, intelligent and loyal—far more valuable than a slave he had grown tired of.

Recalling his predecessor's usual tone, Song Qingshi replied coldly, "I want him."

Jin Feiren smirked, "Surely the Immortal Lord hasn't fallen for this wanton creature?"

Song Qingshi answered, "I need him for medicinal trials."

He would use Yue Wuhuan to test various elixirs and miraculous medicines, restoring his body to its former state!

Misled by Song Qingshi's deliberate misdirection, Jin Feiren completely misinterpreted his intentions. The advantage of a Wood spiritual root was its naturally strong regenerative ability, making it an excellent choice for alchemists. The Medicine King Immortal's actions were as unpredictable as a celestial being. Since the demonic tiger was already dead, pursuing the matter was pointless. It was better to seize this opportunity to gain Song Qingshi's favor.

Song Qingshi took out a bottle of Immortal Refining Pills from his mustard seed bag and, without counting, handed them directly to Jin Feiren as compensation. Immortal Refining Pills were immensely beneficial for cultivation, but their ingredients were extremely rare, making them scarce. Those personally refined by the Medicine King Immortal were priceless. Offering them as compensation for his demonic tiger, and then asking for a slave he had grown tired of, who was half-dead and whose recovery was uncertain, demonstrated extreme sincerity...

Fearing Jin Feiren might refuse, Song Qingshi thought for a moment, then added, "This tiger was drugged, its ferocity unleashed, its mind deranged; it could not be kept."

Jin Feiren quickly seized the opportunity, erased his Divine Sense from Yue Wuhuan's Divine Sense Bead, transferred ownership to Song Qingshi, and thanked him for his timely intervention in slaying the demonic tiger, preventing harm to the guests present. He also ordered an immediate investigation into the tiger's drugging and madness.

Song Qingshi bid the manor lord a polite farewell, declining his enthusiastic offer of additional beauties.

He personally carried the severely injured and unconscious Yue Wuhuan, step by step, out of this jade-carved, ornate hell.

Within that hell, many other inescapable souls remained trapped...

Behind them, the sounds of decadent revelry faded into the distance.

The bloodstains on Yue Wuhuan's face had been wiped away, his raven-black lashes tightly closed, trembling slightly, fragile yet beautiful.

Song Qingshi looked at him, his resolve steadily firming.

He suddenly recalled a story his mother had told him as a child:

In the shallow tidal pools on the beach, thousands of fish lay stranded by the receding tide, close to death.

He couldn't save all the fish, but he could return the dying fish in his hands to the vast, free ocean.

"Because, to this fish, it matters."