Chapter 54

Nearly every disciple of the Red Dragon Sect was made to kneel in the ancestral hall, their palms reddened from their master's strikes, sobbing their hearts out.

All inappropriate storybooks were burned, strict education was enforced to correct their learning attitudes and straighten out their worldviews.

Song Qingshi was extremely satisfied with Immortal Lord Yan Yuan's handling of the situation. He had Yue Wuhuan gift the young girl Nian Nian a full set of mathematics textbooks. From then on, Messenger Birds would bring her workbooks every few days, ensuring she studied diligently, faced pop quizzes, and had her progress checked—all to help her advance further on the path of Rune Arrays.

Immortal Lord Yan Yuan was overjoyed and thanked him repeatedly.

Sister Lan and the rest also expressed their commitment to helping Medicine King Immortal supervise the child's studies properly, swearing they wouldn't spoil her antics anymore.

Nian Nian cried even harder. Her master was right—gentle appearances were all illusions. Medicine King Immortal was downright terrifying, and she no longer fantasized about marrying such a brother when she grew up. It was too terrifying! Yue Wuhuan was way better—all gentle smiles and warm words, and he even persuaded her master not to be too impatient, saying kids learn best when they're not rushed. He promised to select simpler textbooks to make life easier for her.

She decided that when she grew up, she would marry someone like Yue Wuhuan.

After examining Immortal Lord Yan Yuan's condition and confirming no serious issues, Song Qingshi prepared to leave with Yue Wuhuan.

Yue Wuhuan was somewhat worried. "What about Brother An? He was craving a drink but never showed up in town. Where did he go?"

"Probably up to no good somewhere," Song Qingshi chuckled. "Relax. He's a big boy, and he’s skilled in tracking spells. If he needs to find us, he’ll manage. He’s always been unpredictable—sometimes vanishing halfway through jobs, which drove me up the wall. I usually just leave him behind and act alone... Don’t worry, if anything happens, he’ll send a message for help."

Yue Wuhuan sighed regretfully but had no choice but to let it go.

The two rode to South Sea City, where spring-like weather prevailed year-round, and the Flower Festival was already underway. The whole city had bloomed into flower heaven—every household adorned with vibrant blossoms, the air heavy with perfume. Restaurants served delicacies made from flowers, while young folks wore flowers in their hair, laughing and playing. Even grannies couldn’t resist pinning tiny white blossoms to their chests.

Having never attended the Flower Festival before, Song Qingshi was completely fascinated.

He secretly glanced at the notes in his sleeve, double-checking his facts before launching into an explanation of the customs to Yue Wuhuan.

Yue Wuhuan smiled and interrupted his recitation. "Master, I’ve been here before."

"When did you—?" Song Qingshi stopped mid-sentence, realizing. His mind was stuck in Yue Wuhuan’s early days in Medicine King Valley, forgetting that a decade had passed while he slept. He had failed to keep up with Yue Wuhuan’s growth, remaining trapped in the past.

What he hadn’t done, Yue Wuhuan had done himself. Places he hadn’t visited, Yue Wuhuan had already explored.

What an idiot he'd been.

"I rarely go out," Song Qingshi mused, then smiled. "Wu Huan, how about giving me the grand tour?"

During the Flower Festival, South Sea City was packed with visitors, the streets jam-packed.

Unable to use his Inner Fire to clear a path or harm innocents with poison techniques, Song Qingshi kept getting distracted by roadside stalls, constantly getting swallowed up in the crowd and separated from Yue Wuhuan.

Yue Wuhuan couldn’t use Blood King Vine to grab him in public either. After much deliberation and restraint, when Song Qingshi was once again snagged by a fruit peddler—his baby face making vendors think he was just a kid—Yue Wuhuan finally reached out and took his arm, leading him away. "It’s too crowded. Stick close."

Song Qingshi handed him one of the two blue fruits he’d just bought, smiling. "Want one?"

"It’s crazy sour—not good at all," Yue Wuhuan said, accepting it. "If you’d like to try, I’ll candy it for you first."

Before he could stop him, Song Qingshi just wiped the fruit and chomped down. "That's filthy."

Song Qingshi pondered. "Tastes fine to me. Kinda nice actually."

Yue Wuhuan sighed. "It is sour."

Song Qingshi chucked the fruit with a laugh. "Just kidding. It really is sour."

As noon approached, Yue Wuhuan led him into a decent-looking teahouse, choosing a window seat. He took out his own tea set, meticulously wiped it down, then tossed a spirit stone to the waiter, requesting fresh flower petals. After washing them carefully, he brewed a pot of floral tea and served it with handmade sweets to Song Qingshi.

He had done this at every opportunity throughout their journey.

Well aware of Yue Wuhuan’s germophobia, Song Qingshi obediently accepted. Glancing around, he noticed the other cultivators were suddenly very interested in their teacups, not daring to look their way. The couple at the next table had even hurriedly left. Only curious ordinary passersby, eyeing Yue Wuhuan’s fancy mask, stole lingering glances.

When An Long was around, people avoided them out of fear—understandable, since the Alaskan looked like he'd bite your face off.

But now, even without An Long, they were still being avoided...

Though Medicine King Immortal had a fearsome reputation, he rarely traveled, so few recognized him. When he’d taken Yue Wuhuan to Joy City before, nothing like this had happened. This was his first visit to South Sea City, so he couldn’t have left any mark here. Were these people afraid of Yue Wuhuan?

What had Wu Huan done?

Song Qingshi’s expression grew solemn.

Noticing his hesitation, Yue Wuhuan smiled and explained, "Every year during the Flower Festival, maritime merchants come here. Back then, Ye Lin sent word that Blue Spirit Resin had appeared, so I came."

Blue Spirit Resin was a rare spiritual medicine useful for repairing limbs.

Song Qingshi nodded, understanding—this was all for his benefit.

"After I bought the Blue Spirit Resin at a high price, some lowlifes came after me," Yue Wuhuan said with a touch of wounded pride. "They thought I was just a Foundation Establishment Cultivator and tried to kill me for the treasure. I had no choice but to take them out—perhaps my methods were a bit excessive..."

He had merely turned their trap against them, using Puppet Fragrance to control the scoundrels, then tested his newly developed Bone Poison. Satisfied with how it turned out, he’d hung their bodies from the city gates with Blood King Vine as a warning.

Perhaps he’d gone slightly overboard, blowing his cover.

Had he known the Master would come here, he wouldn’t have been so theatrical—or at least concealed his identity better.

Regretful, Yue Wuhuan asked, "Master, did I do wrong?"

Song Qingshi answered firmly, "You did nothing wrong. Dealing with villains requires ruthless measures!"

"Mm, I’ll be more careful in the future," Yue Wuhuan smiled, changing the subject. "Master, the Flower Festival has many interesting things. If we stay here, the parade floats would come through in two hours. South Sea City is famous for its beauties—every year, the most beautiful maiden is chosen to play mythological characters on the floats. Many renowned painters gather here to capture their images. Last time, I left in a hurry and missed it. Total bummer."

Worse yet, that bastard painter got away.

Fascinated, Song Qingshi leaned on the windowsill, eagerly drinking in the spectacle.

After a long wait, the flower floats finally arrived. Twin sisters stood atop one—one pretty as a picture, the other so gorgeous she'd make fish forget to swim. Adorned with exquisite hairpins and clad in feathered robes, they glittered with gold and jade, embodying phoenixes from myth. On a float woven from flame-like flowers, they danced with floating sleeves, moving like actual birds in flight.

The crowd was entranced, pushing forward to toss gold and spirit stones onto the float.

The teahouse Yue Wuhuan had chosen was a bit too far to see clearly.

Quietly, Song Qingshi extended his Divine Sense, controlling nearby dragonflies and butterflies to circle the float, capturing every detail.

Yue Wuhuan leaned in, displeased by his intense scrutiny. Blood King Vine slithered up his leg, tightening slightly, as Yue Wuhuan whispered in a coquettish tone, "Master, are they beautiful?"

Song Qingshi turned, answering sincerely, "Beautiful, but not as beautiful as you."

Those sisters were merely dressed-up imitations—his Wu Huan was a true phoenix, needing no embellishment.

Delighted, Yue Wuhuan asked, "Then, Master, won’t you look only at me?"

Song Qingshi withdrew his gaze from the float, sitting back down to focus entirely on him. "Alright."

The Master was so obedient...

Always yielding to his whims, never causing him distress.

Yet Yue Wuhuan felt inexplicably uneasy. This place wasn’t suitable for travel—too many dangers, too much filth. It’d be better to resolve the troubles quickly and return to Medicine King Valley with the Master. The two sat in silence, sipping tea.

The sun was still high when the two checked into an inn. Yue Wuhuan mentioned that he had been traveling nonstop these days, unable to sleep well, and was utterly exhausted. He wished to stay quietly in his room and read. Song Qingshi accompanied him, haltingly telling a strange version of *Little Red Riding Hood*, then did some math problems together. Seeing Yue Wuhuan still wide awake, Song Qingshi prepared a cup of sleepy tea for him. Unable to refuse, Yue Wuhuan drank it—only to find that the Master's special tea blend was extraordinarily potent. Within moments, his eyelids began to droop. Though he struggled to stay awake, he gradually succumbed to sleep.

In this dream, he became the Big Bad Wolf, binding the Master in the forest and committing horrible, degrading acts.

The Master wept and begged, pleading for him to stop…

He wanted to stop, but couldn’t.

Finally, he forced himself awake, only to face the shameful evidence of what his body had done. He longed to claw bloody marks into his skin, to lash himself with the Bloodvine as punishment—but fearing discovery, he settled for pressing crescent-shaped marks into his palms instead, slowly steadying his breath.

The Bloodvine slithered nearby…

Suddenly, he realized something was missing. The scent of Soulsoothing incense lingered in the air?

The adjoining room was empty. The Bloodvine coiled around the Master’s ankle had loosened. Where had the Master gone?

Had he run away? Disappeared?

Yue Wuhuan’s breathing fractured as overwhelming terror crashed over him. Hastily throwing on his robes and donning his mask, he bolted from the room in a frenzy…

He couldn’t lose his treasure.

It was the sole reason he lived.

……

Moonlight flowed like water, silent and still.

The painter wielded his brush, capturing the image of the beautiful phoenix sisters on canvas—their innocent faces made to look seductive, their allure intoxicating.

Suddenly, he noticed a soft tapping at the window behind him. Turning, he saw a young man with clear, innocent eyes, wearing layered snow-white robes, perched on the windowsill. The boy had been watching quietly for who knew how long, seemingly fascinated by his work.

Looking for a painting? What kind of painting did he seek?

The painter scrutinized the boy’s appearance critically—not a peerless beauty, his frame somewhat slender, but his pure aura and translucent skin were appealing. If he could shed those exquisite robes, revealing just enough, pretending shyness… it might ignite his creative desire.

Uncomfortable under the strange gaze, Song Qingshi straightened his white mage robes before speaking hesitantly, “Excuse me… are you the artist behind *The Beauties of a Prosperous Age*?”

The painter brightened at the mention of his masterpiece. “Indeed.”

“Wonderful. I’ve been searching for you for so long,” Song Qingshi exhaled in relief. He had guided insects to scout the parade floats earlier, noticing the painter's style matched closely to the one he sought. But fearing a mistake, he had kept it from Yue Wuhuan, sneaking out alone to verify. “I never expected to find you here. Do you… enjoy painting such works?”

The painter chuckled. “Naturally. Don't be shy—shall I paint you?”

Song Qingshi looked down with an embarrassed smile as a beautiful black lotus bloomed in his palm, its petals opening one by one.

The one who painted hell should return to hell.