Chapter 38

An Long released his grip, his questions now pressing about the divine tribulation.

Song Qingshi was equally vexed: "I don’t know. The lightning just came out of nowhere."

"Did you conduct research that defies natural law? Or refine some heaven-defying pill? Or was it an enemy’s scheme?" An Long had considered countless possibilities, yet it never occurred to him that Yue Wuhuan’s Foundation Establishment would trigger such an unprecedented divine tribulation. Moreover, his investigation showed the tribulation’s intensity was on par with a Nascent Soul breakthrough. Thus, the blame could only fall on Song Qingshi. "Could it be that you attempted a Divine Sense tribulation?"

Song Qingshi flatly denied it: "None of that! The heavens have gone mad!"

As a rigorous scientific researcher, he, too, didn't believe this had anything to do with Yue Wuhuan. Scum like Jin Feiren and Xie Que hadn’t faced divine retribution—how could Yue Wuhuan, a kind and gentle mortal, possibly be punished by the heavens? This thunder tribulation was purely a coincidence!

He speculated: "Perhaps a demonic cultivator failed their tribulation and used a life-borrowing art to redirect the lightning toward me."

The life-borrowing art was a forbidden technique lost to the demonic sects. It was said to transfer fatal harm from oneself to another, but its activation conditions were extremely stringent, requiring not only a person with a matching fate but also the right timing and circumstances.

Yue Wuhuan had been sold to Golden Phoenix Manor years ago, holding no status. Obtaining his fate alignment wouldn’t have been difficult.

The two tossed around theories but couldn’t reach a conclusion, so they had to set the matter aside for now.

Song Qingshi tried once more to reason with the unreasonable Alaskan Malamute: "It happened too suddenly—I didn’t have time to leave any instructions. Yue Wuhuan isn’t familiar with you, and there’s even some bad blood between you. How could he dare ask you for help? If he hadn’t sealed off Medicine King Valley and word got out, I truly wouldn’t have survived."

An Long sneered: "You don't know that brat's ruthlessness. I thought you’d been gravely injured and fallen into his hands—that he was controlling you."

Song Qingshi was baffled: "If he wanted to seize Medicine King Valley, he could’ve just killed me. Why go through the trouble of saving me first just to control me?"

An Long wished he could dunk his head in water to knock some sense into him: "You don’t understand men!"

Song Qingshi felt insulted: "I *am* a man—how could I not understand men?"

An Long snapped: "Did it never occur to you that he might covet your beauty?!"

Song Qingshi fell silent. He stared at An Long’s eyes for a long time, suspecting something might be amiss with them. Otherwise, how could he fail to see that Yue Wuhuan’s beauty surpassed his own by tenfold? Besides, Yue Wuhuan was the protagonist uke—a nation-toppling beauty, gentle and adorable. If anything, *others* would be the ones coveting *him*!

An Long also realized his slip of the tongue and angrily turned his head away without another word.

Song Qingshi mulled over his words and found a new point of suspicion: "Why would you think Yue Wuhuan wants to harm me?"

After suspecting something had happened in Medicine King Valley, An Long had investigated Yue Wuhuan’s movements thoroughly. Whether in secret realms or life-and-death arenas, his actions far exceeded what a Foundation Establishment Cultivator should be capable of—ruthless toward others, even more so toward himself, with not a single trace of normalcy in his methods or thinking.

The immortal realm no longer referred to him as Young Master Wuhuan but simply as "that lunatic."

"Listen to me," An Long organized his words, preparing to warn Song Qingshi about this dangerous individual. "That guy in the secret realm—"

Suddenly, someone breached the perimeter of his Divine Sense, interrupting him.

Yue Wuhuan appeared before them, holding a fresh tray of tea and snacks, smiling warmly as he personally poured tea for An Long: "Venerable An, what interesting topic were you discussing?"

An Long hadn’t expected the Gu insects meant to stall him to last long anyway. Seeing him shamelessly show up, he was about to voice his disdain when—

Yue Wuhuan asked with a smile: "You weren’t, by any chance, inquiring about my condition, were you?"

An Long’s words died in his throat. He glanced at the utterly confused Song Qingshi beside him, then back at the seductive lunatic before him, suddenly realizing he absolutely couldn’t recount Yue Wuhuan’s past atrocities. Doing so would only imply his illness wasn’t cured.

Song Qingshi placed extreme importance on his psychological condition. If he learned the treatment had failed, he wouldn’t reject him—he’d only shower him with endless care and affection…

Gritting his teeth, An Long decided to rephrase—to claim Yue Wuhuan wasn’t mad at all, just inherently malicious and rotten to the core.

Yue Wuhuan turned and poured tea for Song Qingshi, glancing at the bite mark on his arm before asking gently: "Master, now that you’ve just recovered, shall I prepare some medicinal dishes for you? A while ago, I obtained a Purple Cloud Ginseng in the secret realm—perfect for nourishment."

An Long’s words were stifled once more. He recalled most of Yue Wuhuan’s actions, and now, it was clear they had all been for Song Qingshi’s sake—to find medicine and treat his illness. Lying would be impossible. If Song Qingshi had truly been harmed, it would’ve been one thing, but here he was, safe and sound, entirely thanks to this demon’s doing. Was he supposed to complain or sing his praises?

As for the few minor incidents involving killing—such things were trivial in the immortal realm.

He himself had killed far more people…

And as for being injured by the traps while forcing his way into Medicine King Valley—that was even more humiliating. A Nascent Soul expert couldn’t afford to lose face over something like this…

An Long finally understood how Song Qingshi felt when he’d infuriated him to the point of turning red like a pufferfish, unable to voice his grievances. Gnashing his teeth, he forced out: "That guy didn’t do anything particularly noteworthy in the secret realm—just the usual treasure hunting. It was… fine."

Yue Wuhuan sat down with an innocent expression and nodded: "Thank you for your praise, Venerable An."

"Don’t mention it," An Long picked up his cup, unable to resist a jab. "This tea isn’t poisoned, is it?"

Yue Wuhuan replied solemnly: "Venerable An, you do love to jest. I abandoned such crude methods many years ago."

……

Song Qingshi held the well-behaved Hao Long in his arms, glancing between An Long on his left and Yue Wuhuan on his right. Even someone as oblivious as him could sense their mutual hostility—the atmosphere was terrible. Yet he had no idea how to mediate. After all, Yue Wuhuan’s traps had injured An Long, and An Long certainly hadn’t let Yue Wuhuan off lightly either.

The best way to handle a fight was to separate them first.

Song Qingshi was about to call for a medicine servant to escort An Long back to the Serene Heart Pavilion while he accompanied Yue Wuhuan back to Poria Palace when—

Suddenly, he noticed something odd about An Long’s leather armor. Having studied medicine for years, Song Qingshi had a slight cleanliness fixation and usually wore white robes, disliking being dirtied. An Long knew this well—every time he visited Medicine King Valley, he made sure to clean himself thoroughly. Even when pulling pranks or getting handsy, he’d never mess with him in this regard.

Yet now, An Long was covered in stinking mud, having carried it all the way here, staining his robes in several places.

Cleaning spells were basic cultivation techniques every immortal knew—capable of instantly removing filth.

Why hadn’t An Long used one?

Pondering this, Song Qingshi extended his Divine Sense to investigate—and his expression shifted. Supporting himself on Hao Long, he struggled to his feet and limped toward An Long, pulling him along as he said sternly: "Xiao Bai has some injuries. I’ll take you both to rest and tend to them."

Seeing him like this, An Long’s heart softened instantly. He reached out: "Hey, need me to carry you?"

Song Qingshi shook his head and stepped onto the red lotus: "I’m not an invalid. What kind of decorum would it be to have you carrying me around?"

If he could do something himself, he preferred to handle it…

Yue Wuhuan lowered his gaze and silently began clearing the tea set from the table.

Song Qingshi dragged An Long to the Serene Heart Pavilion, his usual residence, and ordered him to lie down. Using his still-functional right hand, he examined the injuries. Seeing that the truth was out, An Long stopped pretending and finally removed his black leather armor.

How could someone who forcibly broke through Medicine King Valley’s poison mist array emerge unscathed?

Trapped in the poison mist for days, beneath his armor, dried blood and dark swamp mud had fused with his flesh. Black spots from toxin corrosion dotted his chest and abdomen, spreading over time, gradually seeping toward his bones. This poison was called "Bone Drunk," the most terrifying chronic toxin from *Nie's Poison Classic*. Initially, it caused numbness, but as the poison seeped into the bones, the pain intensified until every bone shattered, reducing the body to pulp.

Song Qingshi had always found this poison excessively cruel and never used it—nor had he set it in the poison mist array—so he hadn’t recognized it at first.

Though An Long had used Gu insects and special antidote pills to slow the toxin’s spread, after so long, it had reached the surface of his bones, causing excruciating pain. At first, he’d been too preoccupied with urgent questions, and then Yue Wuhuan had appeared unexpectedly. For the sake of pride, he’d endured in silence.

"You’re always like this," Song Qingshi used his spiritual power to suppress the spreading toxin before drawing it out with spectral flame, scolding him all the while. "If you so much as cut your finger, you’d roll around on the ground begging for my attention. But when you’re seriously injured, you refuse to say a word, pretending nothing’s wrong no matter what. Don’t you feel pain? If you’d waited any longer, your bones would’ve shattered completely, and even I wouldn’t have been able to save you!"

An Long remained silent, letting him treat the poison.

Song Qingshi’s unique constitution made him immune to all poisons—he could absorb toxins from others into himself before dispelling them.

Black spectral flame swirled continuously, drawing out the poison strand by strand.

"He laced the poison array with this toxin to kill me," An Long said darkly as the agonizing pain gradually faded. "I don’t blame him. Struggles in the immortal realm have never been about fairness—it’s always kill or be killed. Since I survived breaking into Medicine King Valley and saw you both, *he’s* the one who lost. Qing Shi, just now, I thought of twenty-eight ways to kill him—eight of which you absolutely couldn’t stop."

Song Qingshi stopped the ghostly flames in his hand and looked up at him with a wary gaze.

"I know what you want to say—that I'm a Nascent Soul Cultivator," An Long cut him off, "But Yue Wuhuan is no ordinary Foundation Establishment Cultivator! No Foundation Establishment Cultivator has a Golden Core-level physique, possesses the Blood King Vine, is saturated with lethal poison, wields so many bizarre formations, employs unfathomable traps and mechanisms, or masters a Sword Technique that couldn't be achieved even if practiced from birth! And with all his schemes! If he's allowed to grow further, he will undoubtedly become my greatest threat!"

What he had once dismissed as an insignificant ant had now grown into a formidable force—he'd clearly underestimated him.

Though not yet a major threat, every cultivator knew that threats should be eliminated while still in their infancy.

Song Qingshi murmured, "But... you didn't kill him."

An Long closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "If I had killed him, would you have forgiven me? Would you not have fought me to the death?"

"No," Song Qingshi shook his head firmly. "He saved my life."

An Long slowly took hold of his left hand and lowered his head, gazing at the skin that was more delicate than elsewhere. His voice carried sorrow. "If... I had been there at the time, you wouldn't have been hurt at all. I would have given everything to protect you. But... you never gave me the chance."

He was strong, he was fierce, he was thick-skinned and shameless, he was not gentle, he was not obedient.

He was a vicious wolf trying desperately to masquerade as a dog, but no matter how hard he tried, he could never pull it off.

Song Qingshi knew he should say something comforting, but no words seemed right.

"It's not your fault. It's mine. I couldn't let go, and this is the punishment I deserve," An Long pulled him into an embrace, burying his face in his neck, breathing in the scent he couldn't let go of. Finally, he let out a wounded whimper. "Qing Shi, it hurts..."

Author's Note:

An Long: I thought you were locked in a punishment room!

Song Qingshi: I *am* in a punishment room. How did you know?