Chapter 44

Song Qingshi felt it was wrong to eavesdrop, but it was too late to leave.

"Master." Yue Wuhuan keenly sensed his presence, dropped the leaf in his hand, and gave a slight nod to the man beside him, signaling him to depart. The man dared not provoke the Medicine King Immortal; he bowed hastily and retreated, casting several lingering glances back at the beauty as he walked away.

Even someone as oblivious as Song Qingshi felt something was amiss. After pondering for a long time, he couldn't help but ask, "Wuhuan, was that a friend of yours?"

"More of an acquaintance, I suppose," Yue Wuhuan replied with a smile, walking over to gently smooth the unruly strands of hair on Song Qingshi's head. "He helped me when I was injured, and I’ve always remembered his kindness. We happened to run into each other today, and he wanted to catch up, so we exchanged a few words here."

Song Qingshi understood. "He helped you? Then... he must be a good person. You should thank him properly."

Yue Wuhuan finished tidying his hair, looked into his innocent eyes, and smiled. "Mm."

There weren't many truly good people in this world, and certainly none among those who sought pleasure at Golden Phoenix Villa. This Wu Jing was particularly despicable—he specialized in "rescuing" injured or distressed beauties. Feigning shyness and honesty, he would offer small favors, sweet words, and grand vows, coaxing his victims into utter devotion. Once bored, he'd fabricate an excuse to discard them, reveling in their heartbreak.

There was once a foolish maidservant who, unable to bear the pain, took her own life.

Wu Jing shed a few crocodile tears and penned some sentimental elegies before immediately moving on to "rescue" another unfortunate beauty.

Yue Wuhuan never begged for mercy in bed. His strong death wish made him indifferent to abusive clients; he would even deliberately provoke their sadistic urges. Consequently, among all the "cultivation furnaces" in Golden Phoenix Villa, he endured the most torment. When Wu Jing first encountered him, he had just been punished to the point of being covered in wounds, barely able to rise from his bed.

Such beauty, such fragility, such helplessness—the perfect prey...

Wu Jing was captivated and determined to possess him. He launched an aggressive courtship, showering him with flattery, gentleness, and care—gifting him healing salves, jewelry, and amusing stories. Unfortunately, his patience was thin, and he couldn't control his desires. As soon as Yue Wuhuan’s injuries showed slight improvement, he resorted to coaxing and deception to claim him.

How could Yue Wuhuan not see through his sordid intentions? Yet, in such matters, he had no choice but to play the fool, feigning gullibility to maintain the charade while extracting whatever outside information he could. Unexpectedly, his performance was too convincing—Wu Jing took it to heart, becoming obsessed with his body. Now, seeing Yue Wuhuan’s disfigured face, he assumed he was a pitiful, fragile target, an easy catch to deceive and toy with once more.

Disgusting. Truly disgusting...

This world was so filthy it was suffocating.

Yue Wuhuan leaned closer to Song Qingshi, quietly inhaling the faint fragrance of his hair, and only then did he feel slightly better.

In this world, only this person's kindness toward him had never demanded anything in return.

...

The Red Dragon Sect had arranged accommodations for them in a nearby town. Unfortunately, the town was small, with no proper inns. Though they had cleaned and prepared the best courtyard available, it was still just an ordinary rural house.

Displeased with the grime, Yue Wuhuan personally cleaned Song Qingshi’s room again, laying out the full set of bedding he had brought. Then he excused himself, saying he wanted to tidy his own room and check the area for ingredients to prepare a meal.

Song Qingshi offered to help several times but was refused each time, so he obediently sat in a corner with a book, careful not to cause trouble.

Yet today, for some reason... his mind was restless. Unprecedentedly, he couldn’t focus on reading. Though his eyes traced the words he loved most, he barely turned a single page all day. Instead, images of Yue Wuhuan and that unknown man kept surfacing in his mind, filling his thoughts with chaotic, strange ideas.

He had been unconscious for ten years—he had missed far too much.

Yue Wuhuan had ventured out alone during that time—he must have made many friends, right?

His little angel was so intelligent, kind, capable, and quick-witted—surely, there were many who genuinely adored him?

The System Teacher had said the male lead should find happiness—did that mean he should find someone he loved and start a new life? That man they’d met earlier seemed decent—tall, handsome, and he had helped Wuhuan without minding his disguised disfigurement. His character appeared good? If their relationship developed well and they decided to become Dao companions... what should he do?

The Medicine King Valley had never hosted a wedding before—should he prepare a grand dowry for Wuhuan? No, wait, Wuhuan was a man—he should prepare bridal gifts instead. But even that didn’t sound quite right... He didn’t understand these matters of love, and there was no one to consult. In any case, he needed to offer sincere blessings, mind his words, prepare a speech in advance to recite, remain composed, avoid mistakes, and ensure Wuhuan wouldn’t be embarrassed.

The more Song Qingshi thought about it, the more flustered and confused he became...

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and stood up, deciding to take a walk to clear his mind.

The night breeze was cool, the sunset painting the sky. The fresh air helped soothe his chaotic thoughts, making him realize how foolish he was being. He needed something to distract himself.

By the roadside, a group of children were playing some sort of game, trying to push a large rock into a ditch but failing miserably. Soon, they began bickering—one blaming the other for being weak, the other retorting that they were useless.

Song Qingshi watched for a while before approaching. "You could try using the principle of leverage."

The children stared blankly at this handsome cultivator.

Seeing their confusion, Song Qingshi picked up a stick, squatted down, and drew formulas on the ground, explaining earnestly, "Levers can be divided into force-multiplying levers, effort-wasting levers, and balanced levers. Since you’re trying to move a heavy object, you should use a force-multiplying lever. First, we calculate the weight of the stone, then—"

The children glanced at the formulas on the ground, then at him in horror, backing away rapidly before turning and fleeing, shouting as they ran:

"Is he an idiot?"

"A lunatic, more like!"

"I think he might be the new teacher..."

"Mom! That’s terrifying!"

"..."

Song Qingshi remained crouched in place, stunned. After a long while, he dropped the stick and slowly stood up, staring at the physics equations he had drawn on the ground. He smiled awkwardly. He had tried many times to communicate with others, but it never went well—sometimes he angered them, sometimes the conversation fell flat, and more often than not, he was simply ignored...

He didn’t even know where he went wrong.

Perhaps he shouldn’t force it...

Song Qingshi sat quietly in the grass beneath a tree, listening to the chirping of crickets and watching the clouds shift shapes under the moonlight—transforming into dragons, birds, mice, cats... It was endlessly fascinating, never boring no matter how long he gazed.

He was accustomed to solitude and didn’t feel lonely.

Set the dragon free into the sea, let the phoenix soar to the heavens.

Patients leave once they recover.

He would be fine staying behind alone...

...

Yue Wuhuan finished preparing dinner but couldn’t find Song Qingshi anywhere. Growing uneasy, he searched for a long time before finally spotting him beneath a tree, spaced out—likely pondering some unfinished experiment. Relieved, he shook his head with a smile, then decided to play a little prank. Using a lightness technique, he quietly leaped into the tree, observing for a while to ensure Song Qingshi hadn’t noticed him. Then, with a sudden shake, he sent a cascade of leaves raining down onto the man below.

Startled by the shower of leaves, Song Qingshi was about to activate his Divine Sense and counter with his Inner Fire when he heard familiar laughter from above. Embarrassed, he called out, "Wuhuan."

Yue Wuhuan jumped down, landing beside him with a grin. "Master, aren’t you afraid of an enemy ambush?"

"You don’t have any killing intent," Song Qingshi explained. "My Inner Fire automatically reacts to hostility, so there’s no need to worry."

Yue Wuhuan paused, his expression turning serious. "You shouldn’t casually reveal such things to others. It could make you vulnerable to traps."

"You’re the only one who knows," Song Qingshi reassured him quickly. "I’m not a fool—I wouldn’t carelessly disclose life-saving secrets. Even if someone discovers it in battle, the Inner Fire leaves no survivors, so there’s no risk of exposure."

Yue Wuhuan sighed. "Then why tell me?"

Song Qingshi thought for a moment. "Because you’re not just anyone." You’re his little angel.

Yue Wuhuan relaxed slightly before asking,

"Master, what were you doing here?"

"Watching the clouds."

"Clouds?"

"Yeah."

"I'll watch too."

"Huh? Yue Wuhuan likes this? But... everyone says it's boring," Song Qingshi shook off the fallen leaves on him, turning back in surprise, only to find Yue Wuhuan already sitting beside him. He quickly added, "There's nothing in the sky—I'm just watching the clouds change shapes. You don’t have to stay with me. You can go do whatever you like."

Yue Wuhuan looked at him, his eyes filled with mirth. "No matter what it is, doing it together makes it less boring."

Song Qingshi stared at him blankly, his ears inexplicably warming, his eyes slightly moist.

Fortunately, the deep night concealed his fluster.

Yue Wuhuan fell silent, sitting quietly beside him... Even though it was still the same boring activity, having company truly made it more enjoyable, just like back in the study—even if they did nothing but read, it felt more interesting than usual.

What was this feeling? Was there any theory in books that explained it?

Song Qingshi pondered for a long time but couldn’t find an answer.

This was a sensation he had never experienced before—indescribable, yet so delightful.

If he treated Yue Wuhuan even better, could he make this feeling last longer?

Would that be too selfish?

Song Qingshi stole a glance at Yue Wuhuan and, seeing his unusually good mood, finally mustered the courage to ask, "That person today... is he your good friend? You and him..." He stumbled over his words, unsure how to phrase his question.

Yue Wuhuan returned to the present moment and chuckled. "You're joking, Master. He and I are barely more than acquaintances."

Song Qingshi stammered, "He saved you... Shouldn’t we... give him a gesture of thanks?"

"Ah, set your mind at ease, Master. I’ve already prepared a gift for him and sent it over," Yue Wuhuan’s smile widened, his eyes glinting with something inscrutable. "Though I’m not sure if Warrior Wu will like it, he’s a good man. He wouldn't dream of refusing and embarrassing me."

Song Qingshi asked worriedly, "If he doesn’t like it, should I prepare another gift?"

"No need," Yue Wuhuan paused briefly, as if distracted. A moment later, he laughed again, his voice lowering slightly, his breath hitching as if suppressing overwhelming joy. After taking several deep breaths, he steadied himself with Emotion Lock, then leaned closer to Song Qingshi, resting his head lightly on his shoulder and nuzzling lightly. "He’ll be returning overseas soon. If... Master ever meets him again, you can give him something then."

Song Qingshi perked up. "Okay."

Yue Wuhuan devoured him with his gaze, letting desire color his beautiful phoenix eyes beneath the golden mask.

The trap he had long prepared had finally claimed its delectable prey.

...

In a remote, hushed chamber, a barely visible outline lay hidden behind layers of dark curtains. The prey, having slipped past everyone, crept inside and slid beneath the embroidered quilt, yearning to reunite with the beauty already lying there.

But what he touched was a cold, stiff hand.

Realizing the trap, the prey moved instantly, snapping the beauty’s neck.

The broken-necked figure turned grotesquely, emitting eerie laughter. "Heh heh heh—"

Horrified, the prey realized this was no living person but a poisoned corpse puppet, its face disfigured with jagged, horrifying stitch marks like a doll from hell. He tried to flee, but after a few steps, his body gradually lost control. He attempted to scream, but his throat stiffened, stealing his voice.

The puppet crawled toward him like a spider, its twisted limbs coiling around him, injecting more poison.

Then, countless Blood King Vines came writhing from all directions, entangling, crushing, and burrowing into his body through his mouth and skin, ravaging him from within—splintering bones, shredding his innards, slowly sucking him dry, corroding and devouring...

The hunter became the hunted, a moth trapped in a spider’s web, compelled to witness his own demise.

No hope of escape—only despair.

Hell was his fitting end.

...

Yue Wuhuan sat with Song Qingshi for a long while, until the Blood King Vines had disposed of everything, hidden the puppet, and cleansed the scene completely, leaving no trace. He destroyed the contaminated vines with his spiritual awareness, letting new ones grow in their place... Finally, he stood. "Master, it’s late. The osmanthus sweet soup I made for you must be cold by now."

Song Qingshi sprang up. "Why didn’t you say so earlier?"

Yue Wuhuan smiled apologetically. "Forgive me. I was preoccupied with thoughts and forgot."

"So even you get distracted like me?"

"Occasionally..."

"Are you feeling unwell?"

"No."

...

Laughing and chatting, the two walked away together.

Under the eaves, a hungry spider carefully wove its web, patiently awaiting the white butterfly dancing on the breeze.

Now, that was a proper meal.