Chapter 66

A wave of fervent study swept through Medicine King Valley.

Song Qingshi commissioned three banners for the academy. The left one proclaimed: "Study diligently, make daily progress." The right one declared: "Success stems from perseverance; dedication forges miracles." The central banner read: "Benevolent heart, skillful hands—to heal the sick and save the dying."

Qing Luan was nearly driven to distraction by the sheer volume of study materials. Ten of her twelve waking hours were spent poring over books and tackling problems. Even with her unwavering loyalty, she was on the verge of collapse. Yet, one glance at Yue Wuhuan's chilling, knowing smile was enough to steel her resolve—after all, studying was infinitely preferable to laboring in the Punishment Hall...

Too exhausted to supervise others, she could only leave the younger students to their own devices.

Rong Ye finally found his moment to shine. Whenever the Master came to inspect their progress, he would seize the opportunity to engage him in conversation, aiming to amuse him. Blessed with naturally charming looks, a stylish demeanor, and an innate sociability, Rong Ye excelled at telling jokes—both innocent and risqué—consistently eliciting peals of laughter and enlivening the atmosphere.

Song Qingshi didn't quite grasp the humor, but seeing everyone else laugh, he offered a polite smile, unwilling to appear out of step.

He didn't object to such a cheerful learning environment, nor to the student's outgoing personality. His only qualm was the sachet Rong Ye wore—the potent scent of deer grass within was rather overpowering. While harmless to the body, it could easily stir emotions. With so many spirited young men and women in the academy, such fragrances might encourage premature romantic entanglements, which, in the long run, would undoubtedly impede their studies.

Speaking of which, Yue Wuhuan also carried a subtle, peculiar medicinal scent...

The wounds from the Gu insects had long since healed. He shouldn't be injured anymore—why the continued use of medicine?

Song Qingshi fell into deep contemplation.

Noticing his distraction, Rong Ye boldly tugged at his sleeve and, leaning in conspiratorially, whispered, "Master, there are some problems I can't quite grasp. Could you explain them to me? Just as you explain things to Immortal Master Wu Huan in your chambers..."

"No," Song Qingshi replied, considering the vast intellectual chasm between Yue Wuhuan and Rong Ye, and diplomatically advised, "What he understands, you would not."

Rong Ye smiled sweetly. "Even without prior experience, I can learn anything he knows."

As a child, he had overheard countless suggestive remarks and was well-versed in the various arts of pleasing men—he simply lacked practical experience. His body was supple, and he was willing to go to any lengths. He refused to believe that Immortal Master Wu Huan's methods for serving the Master were beyond his grasp. After all, it was merely a matter of what transpired in bed—how challenging could it be?

Song Qingshi mused for a moment, then decided to offer the eager student an opportunity. He handed him a set of advanced mathematics problems. "Complete these first, and tell me which parts you don't understand. I'll have Wu Huan explain them to you."

Rong Ye took the problem set, utterly dumbfounded.

Ming Hong, glancing over, sighed in awe. "Immortal Master Wu Huan tackles problems this difficult every night?"

Song Qingshi boasted, "These are from a long time ago. The ones he does now are far more complex."

Ming Hong nodded in understanding. "How does he ever finish so many? No wonder he spends every night in Fuling Palace doing his homework."

Song Qingshi encouraged, "Wu Huan is very diligent. You all should strive to be like him! You'll eventually master them!"

Rong Ye felt his head spin. He began to question his entire premise. Did one have to conquer problem sets before ascending to the Master's bed? Only after satisfactory completion... could one serve him? Or was it a matter of diligently solving problems while simultaneously serving? That sounded utterly exhausting. Bizarre, indescribable images flashed through his mind, and he quickly shook his head to dispel them.

The Master appeared gentle and good-tempered, but his expectations in the bedchamber must be extraordinarily demanding...

Immortal Master Wu Huan truly had a difficult lot.

Rong Ye pondered, then picked up the problem set and began to study assiduously! He would not give up! If Immortal Master Wu Huan could achieve it, so could he!

Song Qingshi observed the diligent learning atmosphere with considerable satisfaction.

...

Research into the Black Death Butterfly continued, as did the string of failures.

Yue Wuhuan looked up from the stack of documents, a frown creasing his brow. He detected the scent of deer grass clinging to Song Qingshi—a fragrance whose sole purpose was to subtly ignite a man's desires, enhancing intimacy. The Golden Phoenix Manor was permeated with similar aromas, though their compositions featured rarer ingredients and more sophisticated blending techniques.

Who dared introduce such a vulgar substance into the pristine Medicine King Valley?

Yue Wuhuan held his breath. He felt his inner sanctuary being defiled, an unbearable sensation. After a moment's thought, he instantly pinpointed the source of the fragrance, barely managing to suppress the murderous intent that surged within him.

Qing Luan had once pleaded tearfully, asserting Rong Ye's youth and innocence, begging him to show mercy.

He had exercised restraint for days, only to discover the boy was even more audacious than anticipated.

Young?

At his age, boys in the Golden Phoenix Manor had already learned to submit to men and endure the torments of a dark hell.

Innocent?

What innocent person would be familiar with such a base fragrance—let alone wear it to subtly provoke?

The more Yue Wuhuan understood, the more incandescent with rage he became.

Song Qingshi noticed his altered demeanor. "Wu Huan, what's wrong?"

Yue Wuhuan composed himself, forcing a smile. "Master, there's a strange scent on you. It makes me uncomfortable."

Song Qingshi sniffed himself, suspecting he had brushed against some unpleasant-smelling herbs. Knowing Yue Wuhuan's sensitivity to odors, he quickly cast several cleansing spells upon himself and hurried off to bathe.

Yue Wuhuan extended several Blood King Vines to tidy the laboratory equipment, the smile on his lips growing ever softer.

If Qing Luan couldn't manage him, then he would.

...

After completing his problem set, Rong Ye turned his attention to his appearance. Immortal Master Wu Huan's gold-and-red brocade robes were exquisite—form-fitting with narrow sleeves, making him stand out in any crowd. In contrast, he was relegated to the plain, loose-fitting blue robes provided by Medicine King Valley, which made him blend in with everyone else. He resolved to find a seamstress to raise the waistline, widen and tighten the belt, and slightly enlarge the neckline to subtly reveal his collarbone—just enough to highlight his superior physique.

He also needed to intensify the deer grass in his sachet. The courtesans had taught him that this fragrance could arouse a man. He had tested it by his bedside and experienced two nights of vivid dreams—though, unfortunately, he had dreamed of that fool He Qingyun instead of the Master, startling him awake. Later, he would make another sachet for Ming Hong, just to tease the coward and encourage him to be less timid around Sister Qing Luan.

Rong Ye held up his robe, admiring himself in the mirror, when suddenly, a golden winged mask appeared in the reflection.

He spun around in fright to see Yue Wuhuan leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, observing him.

Rong Ye let out a small breath of relief and bowed respectfully.

Yue Wuhuan smiled. "Qing Luan mentioned you're quite skilled with your hands and enjoy mechanisms?"

Rong Ye, unsure of his intent, nodded. "Yes."

"The Tiangong Pavilion is currently recruiting apprentices. They value skill above all else, regardless of background," Yue Wuhuan said kindly. "Medicine King Valley has business dealings with them. I've already spoken to the Pavilion Master, and he's agreed to take you in for training. It would be a pity to waste such talent."

Rong Ye's face paled. He enjoyed tinkering with small contraptions, but that didn't mean he wanted to be a craftsman. In the brothel, he had seen craftsmen—poor, crude men with rough, unsightly hands, dark skin, and numerous scars from accidents. The courtesans had always disdained them, refusing to entertain them.

Even in the immortal world, craftsmen were still craftsmen—they performed manual labor.

If he ended up there, his beauty would be ruined within two years.

Rong Ye studied Yue Wuhuan's smile and instantly understood. The other man had clearly seen through his attempts to gain favor and was preemptively removing him. He had witnessed such insidious schemes many times, but with Yue Wuhuan enjoying the Master's favor and himself yet to gain any, he was utterly powerless to resist.

He considered attempting to charm his way out, but how could a fledgling fox hope to deceive a millennium-old fox spirit?

Rong Ye was on the verge of tears. "How can you be so overbearing? So cruel?"

Yue Wuhuan turned away coldly. "Medicine King Valley has no place for those with impure intentions."

"Impure?" Rong Ye, knowing the die was cast, lashed out in utter despair. "And what about you? You're nothing but a mortal who used his looks to win the Master's affection—climbing to the top in a single bound!"

Yue Wuhuan turned back, gazing at him silently.

Qing Luan feared his madness and had tried her best to keep him away from these apprentices, never daring to reveal the truth. His conduct was always proper; he never punished anyone directly, which led these young ones to a mistaken impression—did they truly see him as a docile lamb?

Rong Ye blurted out, "You've served so many men yourself! What right do you have to call others dirty?"

Yue Wuhuan pondered for a moment before asking hoarsely, "You wish to serve men?"

Rong Ye felt a flicker of fear but forced himself to retort, "What's wrong with serving cultivators? If you please them well, they might casually bestow pills, treasures, or even teach immortal techniques—far superior to being a mortal! I simply wish to serve powerful men!"

Yue Wuhuan smiled faintly and drew out a pair of ice-silk gloves, slowly donning them.

A strange fragrance permeated the air. Rong Ye suddenly felt dizzy, his body losing all strength. Struggling to lift his head, he found Yue Wuhuan's face blurring before him. Then, something violently seized his hair, dragging him forward.

His dark hair was disheveled, his beautiful almond-shaped eyes filled with terror.

Yue Wuhuan lifted his face, examining him for a moment before speaking in a voice like a demon from hell: "Let me teach you how to serve men."

Rong Ye finally realized he had provoked something far beyond his comprehension. He wanted to flee, but his body refused to move.

His clothes were torn open, and a searing sensation erupted on his back—as if something had been branded there.

His limbs lost control, his mind plunging into unconsciousness.

When he awoke again, he found himself suspended in mid-air by chains, completely naked, surrounded by countless greedy eyes. Then, innumerable repulsive hands reached out, molesting him at will. He wanted to scream, to beg them to stop, but what escaped his lips were shameful moans.

He had never known such agony could exist...

There was no tenderness, no mercy—only horrifying torment.

He struggled desperately, pleaded frantically, but was met only with laughter and even more brutal treatment.

The torture in the darkness seemed endless.

He endured the most humiliating, most vile acts imaginable.

Finally, he awoke with a hysterical sob...

A faint scent still lingered in the air, but the terrifying men and the horrors were gone.

Rong Ye found himself clean, the pain vanished, the nausea slowly fading—only his clothes were soaked in cold sweat, clinging to his skin. Trembling, he looked up and realized he was in a cold dungeon. Though no gruesome instruments were in sight, the metallic tang of blood hung thick in the air. Yue Wuhuan sat at a table, quietly perusing a book by candlelight. Beside him stood a bronze incense burner, its stick burned to ash, the source of that eerie fragrance. Two more unlit sticks lay nearby.

Seeing him awake, Yue Wuhuan picked up the second stick.

Though Rong Ye didn't understand what the incense was, he knew the terrifying illusions had originated from it. No longer defiant, he collapsed to his knees, prostrating himself on the ground, desperately pleading: "Immortal Master Wuhuan, I was wrong! I shouldn't have spoken ill of you!"

Yue Wuhuan watched him for a moment before shaking his head without a trace of pity.

Rong Ye shrieked in terror, "No! I truly regret it!"

The second stick was lit. The sinister fragrance returned, deeper, heavier...

Rong Ye plunged into an even crueler hell, subjected to endless, varied tortures.

Just when he thought the suffering had reached its peak, something more agonizing always awaited him.

When the nightmare ended this time, his mind was on the verge of collapse. He sat dazed on the floor, unsure if he was still human or some broken animal. After a long while, he finally realized his body was unharmed. The relief of survival gradually restored his sanity and his ability to speak.

He looked up, only to see Yue Wuhuan picking up the third stick, despair washing over him...

He would descend into complete madness within that hell, until death claimed him.

"Spare me, please spare me..." Rong Ye finally understood the demon's murderous intent. He scrambled backward on his hands, but countless Blood King Vines extended, forming an inescapable cage that bound him. He finally understood how foolish he had been, how terrifying the person he had offended—but it was too late. As he watched that fateful stick about to be lit, a desperate thought flashed through his mind. He shrieked, "I'll never dare to entertain any thoughts about the Master again!"

The stick that would send him to hell finally paused.

Yue Wuhuan gazed at him silently before asking again, "Do you still wish to serve men?"

"No!" Rong Ye screamed at the memory of those terrifying dreams, curling into a ball in the darkness, sobbing, "I was wrong! I never want to serve men again!"

Yue Wuhuan held the incense stick, gently rubbing his temple. He glanced at the main door, seemingly hesitant.

Life or death hung in the balance.

Rong Ye sobbed in the darkness for a long time.

He finally remembered the bruised courtesans he had seen whipped by clients, the young male entertainers carried out on tattered mats, the bruises around his mother's eyes. Yet he had only remembered the glamour and excitement, the gourmet food, the jewelry, the beautiful women who had bought their freedom—forgetting so many terrible things, so many tragic endings...

How could he have been so foolish?

Rong Ye wailed, repeating endlessly, "I was wrong, I was truly wrong."

Yue Wuhuan finally made his decision.

The Blood King Vines loosened. The torture chamber door creaked open.

Qing Luan was already standing at the entrance, weeping uncontrollably.

Seeing her fragile figure, Rong Ye felt as if he had found a safe harbor. He choked out, "Sister Qing Luan..."

Qing Luan descended the steps and bowed deeply before Yue Wuhuan. "Thank you."

When she had learned of Rong Ye's foolish actions, she knew he had committed a grave transgression. She had tried everything, even using the excuse that the Master would be displeased, to secure Rong Ye a place at Tiangong Pavilion—only to hear his reckless words. She had nearly despaired, watching helplessly as the unconscious Rong Ye was dragged into the dungeon by countless Blood King Vines, her heart nearly stopping with fear.

Yue Wuhuan's mental state was troubled; he felt no one else's pain, understood no compassion.

Those who had entered that dungeon before had either died or gone mad, without exception...

Qing Luan knew what Rong Ye was about to face, and she could not bear to watch it happen.

She intercepted Yue Wuhuan, pleading desperately, begging, kneeling, weeping.

Yue Wuhuan asked her, puzzled, "Why do you beg?"

Qing Luan, her eyes tear-filled, whispered, "Rong Ye isn't that bad..."

Yue Wuhuan said, "He made a mistake."

Qing Luan insisted, "Mistakes can be corrected."

Yue Wuhuan thought for a very long time, offering no reply.

Finally, he extended a Blood King Vine, lifted Qing Luan out of the dungeon, and sealed the door.

Qing Luan desperately pounded on the door, listening to the faint wails and pleas from within, sobbing heartbrokenly.

Yue Wuhuan had spared Rong Ye, neither destroying his life nor his sanity, nor employing those truly horrific tortures.

Qing Luan was overcome with the euphoria of having him back. She embraced Rong Ye, comforting him repeatedly.

"For the sake of your loyalty all these years," Yue Wuhuan rose, walking past them, his voice cold and final, "there will be no next time."