Chapter 42

If a trip isn't well-planned, minor issues can lead to unhappiness, while major ones can cause outright quarrels and severed ties.

Song Qingshi was a responsible person who would never allow such a tragedy to occur.

He retrieved all South Sea City-related materials from the library, reviewed them, and then wrote to Ye Lin, asking him to collect more books on local customs, folklore, geographical knowledge, and other relevant information along the way to South Sea City. His goal was to become a gold-medal tour guide, ensuring his two travel companions were thoroughly comfortable and left no room for complaints.

Yue Wuhuan instructed that his left side should be massaged three times daily for physical therapy.

Song Qingshi, being a good patient, followed medical advice. He lay on the veranda of Fuling Palace, basking in the warm sun while holding the obedient Xiao Bai, receiving his massage, and diligently writing notes:

Yue Wuhuan was fastidious about cleanliness, so they must pay attention to food hygiene during the trip and bring their own bedding and utensils.

An Long tended to cause trouble when drunk, so it was best to drink in quiet, secluded places to avoid involving bystanders.

Yue Wuhuan despised being flirted with, so they must watch out for lecherous gazes and promptly remove any offenders.

An Long enjoyed flirting with beauties, so they had to ensure he didn’t go too far. If things escalated, they should take Yue Wuhuan away to avoid being dragged into the mess!

...

"Oww—" A sharp pain shot through Song Qingshi’s arm. He turned his head and glared at the Alaskan, who seemed to find it amusing to violently snatch Yue Wuhuan’s physical therapy duties, yanking him from bliss into pain. He complained, "Can’t you be gentler?"

His arms and thighs were covered in bruises from the rough handling, and the pain was unbearable. He wanted to refuse the Alaskan’s "affectionate" massage, but worried they’d clash again—especially one that might put Yue Wuhuan at a disadvantage—he bore it silently.

"Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth," An Long cheerfully dropped his arm and lifted his leg onto his knee, pinching each toe with a grin that was anything but professional. "I, the esteemed leader of the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect, am slumming it as your masseur. You should be grateful. With Yue’s gentle touch, when would you ever recover?"

Song Qingshi grumbled, "I prefer his gentle touch!"

"Oh?" An Long paused, then smirked mischievously, reaching to tickle the sole of his foot. "Let me test that."

Song Qingshi was extremely ticklish. He yanked his foot back and yelled, "Back off! No more massages from you!"

An Long feigned seriousness. "See? Your left foot has strength now. A firm massage is necessary—don’t fear the pain. I’ve fought plenty, so I know how to handle injuries like this. Trust me."

Song Qingshi suspected he just wanted an excuse to tickle him. He bolted upright and ran, retorting, "I’m a physician too! I know what’s best for recovery!"

Yue Wuhuan arrived with a bowl of medicine, took one look at the scene, and inhaled deeply before setting it down. "Master’s injuries aren’t fully healed yet. He needs rest, and we’re in no hurry. Please, Brother An, stop teasing him."

Song Qingshi clung to Yue Wuhuan and nodded vigorously. His considerate friend understood boundaries and never stirred trouble.

Yue Wuhuan took his arm, applying ointment to the bruises with a pained expression, then resumed the massage with barely-there touch, afraid of hurting him further.

"Truly patient," An Long muttered, utterly unimpressed by this display of playing along. He had initially assumed that once Song Qingshi fell unconscious into this demon’s hands, his body would have been devoured without a trace. Yet, to his shock, they’d stayed chaste—proof that this lunatic’s restraint was extraordinary. This raised An Long’s tolerance for him considerably. At least for now, he could hold back from killing him and observe further.

Song Qingshi continued lying on the ground, scribbling notes with unwavering focus, filling reams of notes.

He was truly giving his all—planning every scenic spot, every detail of the trip, preparing for every possible mishap. Believing nothing was impossible if one studied hard, he had even secretly rehearsed his spiel in the dissection room to ensure smooth delivery.

The two troublemakers glanced at the densely packed notebook and were somewhat moved. Exchanging a look, they silently agreed to set aside their grudges for now, faking goodwill during the trip to avoid wasting his efforts.

...

After more than ten days, Song Qingshi’s left side finally regained full mobility. He completely detoxified An Long, carefully nursed Yue Wuhuan back to health, removed the Pleasure Seal from Qing Luan, entrusted the Medicine King Valley’s affairs to her, left emergency contact methods, packed his luggage, collected a generous allowance from Yue Wuhuan, and cheerfully set off with his companions.

Usually, when traveling for business, they rode celestial beasts—fast but unsuitable for sightseeing. Moreover, celestial beasts were rare, typically used only by major sects or high-ranking cultivators. Traveling with three would attract too much attention, disrupting their peaceful journey.

After consulting the other two, Song Qingshi decided to travel by horse—a common mode of transport for ordinary cultivators in the immortal realm, perfect for a low-key trip.

"This rock is Twin Dragon Cliff," Song Qingshi sneakily checked his notes, confirmed the location, and recited his prepared speech. "According to the *Myths of Nanyang Mountain* by Immortal Yunying, two dragons fought out of personal grudges, causing torrential rains and floods. The Heavenly Emperor dispatched a Divine Lord to the mortal realm to slay them, turning them into this stone. Observe carefully and reflect deeply..."

Yue Wuhuan immediately praised, "Master is absolutely right. This stone embodies the wonders of nature, its form and spirit truly extraordinary."

An Long bit back his first comment—"Looks like a broken toad to me"—and, after a long struggle, forced out a lie: "Indeed... very dragon-like..."

Pleased with their compliments, Song Qingshi turned back to examine the rock—only to find it still resembling a toad. Glancing at the two behind him, who kept praising its draconic majesty, he doubted his own eyes. Fearing ridicule for lacking artistic sense, he chimed in with praise before concluding, "What lesson does this story teach us?"

An Long’s face went blank in bewilderment. "Huh?"

Yue Wuhuan pondered and answered, "The importance of brotherly unity and avoiding fights?"

Song Qingshi was delighted. As expected, his dear friend read him perfectly.

An Long stared at the sky in despair, suddenly recalling a world shaped by the Illusion Gu where he had angrily twisted the dream’s settings—even altering Song Qingshi’s personality—only to end up bombarded with endless questions about ethics and physiology in bed, nearly breaking his sanity...

He had suffered too much...

Though he loathed Yue Wuhuan, he couldn’t help but admire his saintly patience.

He could never bring himself to spout such blind flattery...

"An Long, what are you thinking about?" Song Qingshi called him back for being inattentive, ready to explain the next landmark—only to pause in surprise. "Huh? This place used to look different. What happened?"

Yue Wuhuan followed his gaze to a grand temple atop the mountain, its intricately carved beams and painted walls dazzling. The streets outside bustled with devotees, merchants, and food stalls, bustling with life.

He asked curiously, "Is there something wrong with this temple?"

Song Qingshi muttered, baffled, "I remember this used to be a crumbling mountain shrine, deserted."

Yue Wuhuan smiled. "When did you last visit, Master?"

Song Qingshi thought for a moment. "I stayed here for a while during my Foundation Establishment days... over eight hundred years ago."

"After so long, of course it changed," Yue Wuhuan chuckled, knowing his master paid little attention to worldly affairs. But then he frowned. "Why did you stay in a broken shrine?" The immortal realm had plenty of affordable lodgings—even a Foundation Establishment Cultivator could easily find shelter in town.

Realizing his slip-up, Song Qingshi admitted sheepishly, "I found a seriously ill child back then. It wasn’t convenient to stay in town, so I had to hide in an abandoned place."

Yue Wuhuan was even more puzzled. "Why?"

Song Qingshi explained, "The child was an abandoned half-demon."

Yue Wuhuan immediately understood.

In the immortal realm, mortals held the lowest status, but demons were the most despised. Born from malice in the Endless Abyss, most demons had grotesque appearances, devoid of human emotions, driven only by bloodlust and greed. Wherever they went, carnage followed.

Occasionally, demons would force themselves upon human women, producing half-demon offspring.

Half-demons bore traces of their demonic heritage, and as they grew, most would succumb to their malevolent instincts, becoming full-fledged monsters.

In the immortal realm, half-demons were taboo, spat upon by all.

An Long looked at him, and sneered, "Always meddling in others’ business. Weren’t you afraid of raising a backstabbing cur?"

Song Qingshi replied earnestly, "The child was poisoned by three conflicting toxins, his body festering. The condition was extremely complex..."

Deep down, he knew saving a half-demon was unwise. But seeing the child clinging to life in the mud, desperate to survive, he couldn’t help but carry him away. Too risky in town, he holed up in the mountains, spending two full years healing the child.

Later, he tried sending the child to the Merciful Immortal Lord of the Ten Thousand Laws Sect—a revered half-demon who had conquered his demonic nature with benevolence. The Merciful Immortal Lord took in and educated half-demon children, guiding them to retain their humanity. Under his influence, none had ever turned to evil.

However, the child ran away shortly after arriving.

He haltingly recounted the past to Yue Wuhuan, who listened attentively. He remembered that the Compassionate Immortal Lord had perished three hundred years ago in the Demon-Sealing War, sacrificing himself to protect the common people—a noble yet tragic loss. Most of his disciples were either dead or injured. Even that bastard Jin Feiren didn’t dare disrespect him when mentioning his name.

Song Qingshi sighed, "Thank goodness the child didn’t go there. Otherwise, it would have been too dangerous."

Though he hadn’t directly participated in the war, he had treated many wounded soldiers who retreated from the frontlines. Knowing how brutal the battles were, he still felt shaken by it.

An Long snorted rudely, "That trash was worth your time?"

"That was my first critically ill patient. I worked hard on his case for two years," Song Qingshi recalled the past, visibly upset. "But back then... I wasn’t good at talking to people. I always fumbled my words and came off as cold and neglectful. So, he must have hated me and left without a word."

Yue Wuhuan comforted him, "Maybe he was just born rotten."

An Long lectured, "That’s what they mean by ‘a demon’s nature never changes.’"

"He wasn’t that bad. It was my fault," Song Qingshi said guiltily. "When I was refining medicine or conducting research, I’d forget everything around me—even meals. The kid often went hungry, scrounging for birds or fish. Later, he ate the Vermilion Serpent Fruit I had collected..."

Yue Wuhuan hesitated before asking, "The Vermilion Serpent Fruit—the one that bears fruit every three hundred years, looks beautiful, but is highly poisonous?"

"Yes," Song Qingshi couldn’t help but cover his face, the memory too cringe-worthy to dwell on. "I was terrified. The situation was urgent, so I used a brutal treatment that nearly cost the child half his life. After that, I couldn’t keep him, afraid I’d end up killing him..."

The more he spoke, the more dejected he became. Back then, his inexperience had led to many mistakes, putting the kid through hell.

Unfortunately, his communication difficulties at the time were far worse than now—he couldn’t express anything properly.

An Long, showing no mercy, mocked him bluntly, "I remember when I first met you, you sounded even dumber than you do now!"

Song Qingshi was furious enough to set him on fire. "That’s too much!"

An Long quickly begged for mercy, "I was wrong! You’re way better now—you don’t even stutter when reciting texts."

...

Yue Wuhuan grew thoughtful, as if he had grasped at some clue.

Author’s Note:

Yue Wuhuan: I think the Master’s taste is questionable, but I’ll clean up after him...

Song Qingshi: I think Wu Huan’s taste is just fine. Following his lead is definitely the right choice...

An Long: ??? (Feeling utterly lost)