Chapter 99

Song Qingshi's face was covered in tears, his voice hoarse from crying. The unbearable sensations finally faded, but the ordeal was not yet over. He had to brace himself and see it through to the end. Feng Jun fetched water to clean his body, allowed him a brief rest, then took him to a secluded wilderness, setting up various shielding arrays. Once again, he made Song Qingshi take medicine and ruthlessly began a new round of torment until the Golden Core was successfully formed.

Dark clouds gathered, heralding the arrival of the lightning tribulation.

Fearing that the Heavenly Dao might not abide by the rules, Feng Jun took every precaution, standing guard by his side.

Fortunately, the difficulty of this tribulation was normal, and no unexpected incidents occurred.

Song Qingshi took a temporary stamina-restoring medicine to force himself to regain his energy, focusing his mind and skillfully circulating the twin flames within him. Armed with countless magical artifacts and talismans, he smoothly passed the trial of heaven and earth. Finally, the dark clouds dispersed, and both his body and Golden Core were refined to perfection by the lightning.

At last, it was over.

Song Qingshi lay on the ground, feeling utterly drained, exhausted and in pain, unable to move even a finger. Feng Jun approached, asking many concerned questions and speaking many gentle words, but Song Qingshi could barely hear them. He barely managed to whisper a grateful "Thank you" before passing out.

Feng Jun cradled him in his arms, checking that the Golden Core was intact before finally relaxing. He gently kissed the disheveled strands of hair on the person in his arms, reluctant to let go of the clean scent he had longed for—this was an addiction that had wrapped around his heart like poison:

"No need for thanks."

"What was originally yours, I will find and return to you; whatever you desire, I will give you all of it..."

"My body, heart, life, soul—everything I have can be yours..."

"Let me be your only answer..."

...

The next day, Song Qingshi, aching all over, didn’t want to get out of bed. Draped in a robe, he lay on a daybed studying prescriptions. Feng Jun was preparing a pill furnace and alchemy workshop for him. He planned to use the resources at hand to refine a batch of basic pills. The Tianwu Sect, knowing of his alchemical prowess, happily provided many medicinal ingredients, hoping to receive some of the finished products.

Song Jincheng came to visit, bringing steamed buns from Ronggui Fang. Noticing Song Qingshi’s hoarse voice and exhausted demeanor, he inexplicably looked guilty, hesitating for a long time before cautiously asking, "Did you suffer terribly last night?"

Song Qingshi recalled the torment of the previous night, his body still crawling with lingering phantom itches. He shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to dwell on the topic. "Mm, it’s over now."

Song Jincheng’s eyes reddened. "Did you take medicine?"

Song Qingshi answered honestly, "Yes."

"That’s good," Song Jincheng said, relieved to see that despite the suffering, his body seemed fine, his will strong, with no thoughts of self-harm or blame. He offered awkward comfort, "There was no other way. You must take heart—there’s no hardship in this world that can’t be overcome."

He wanted to say more encouraging words, but upon spotting Feng Jun in the distance, he immediately scurried away like a mouse spotting a cat.

Song Qingshi was baffled, thinking that silly boy had grown even sillier.

With several pill furnaces prepared by Feng Jun, Song Qingshi pushed thoughts of the fool aside and happily got up, pulling Feng Jun along to refine pills. He discovered that Feng Jun’s alchemical techniques were also excellent, and their coordination was seamless. Overwhelmed with happiness, he nearly cried, wondering how he could have met such a perfect, beautiful genius—perhaps it was the accumulated blessings of many lifetimes.

He would definitely obey Feng Jun and be a model boyfriend.

Though he wasn’t as powerful, as beautiful, or seemingly as wealthy as Feng Jun, he would cultivate diligently, buy a big house, a luxurious magic boat, and then a ring to propose, holding a grand ceremony to become Dao companions. Every step had to be perfect—he wouldn’t let others mock Feng Jun for choosing a useless gold-digger.

With determination, Song Qingshi planned his future while refining pills.

...

After several busy days, the Tianwu Sect finally arranged the array-solving challenge. A Divine Separation elder set up a defensive grand array, and hundreds of disciples gathered in the practice grounds, sitting in orderly silence. Feng Jun quietly summoned his red bird avatar to remain nearby, vigilant.

The puzzle array left by Mo Yuan Sword Sovereign held no danger—participants could forfeit the challenge at any time, choosing to fail and exit.

Each person had only one chance to enter the array. Once they left, they could not return.

After Yu Wenyan explained the rules, Song Qingshi summoned his twin flames into his palms, slowly condensing them into red and black lotuses—his innate magical artifacts, which had naturally appeared after forming his Golden Core, as if they were part of his body’s instincts.

This was likely another fragment of his lost memories.

Lost in thought, Song Qingshi gripped the tiger brace, using his alchemical skills to evenly distribute the twin flames along the copper ring. The iron beads inside the ring began to move, emitting a clear, tinkling chime that grew faster and more urgent. One by one, the arrays on the ring lit up, releasing a dazzling golden-red halo that spread like mist, enveloping the entire training field.

The mist thickened, and the surroundings fell silent.

Song Qingshi’s mind grew hazy. After what felt like an eternity, the mist dispersed, and his surroundings came into clear view. To his shock, he found his body had shrunk—as if he had reverted to being twelve or thirteen. His cultivation had also dropped to the Qi Refining stage, but worse than before, as he hadn’t practiced the Cold Jade Art and was instead using a common, third-rate cultivation method. Fortunately, his youth meant his twin flames were weak, reduced to mere flickers—barely enough to light a kitchen fire—but he could still suppress them with spiritual energy. He had no Mustard Seed Bag, no spirit stones, or anything of value—only a few golden needles and simple herbs in his pocket.

Passing cultivators cast disdainful glances his way. One kind female cultivator even tossed a piece of silver fragments at his feet.

Song Qingshi looked down at his tattered clothes and the dirt under his nails from digging herbs, pondering gloomily for a long time before concluding he’d been mistaken for a beggar. Picking up the silver, he tried to return it, only to realize he couldn’t speak—only garbled sounds escaped his lips.

The kind woman’s eyes filled with even greater pity, and she gave him two more pieces of silver, urging him to buy something good to eat.

Clutching the silver, Song Qingshi grew even more depressed.

Then, a cultured male voice, reminiscent of Feng Jun’s but deeper and tinged with sorrow, echoed in his mind: "Tell me, would you be willing to save me?"

Hearing the question, Song Qingshi brightened immediately. "Yes!" he answered without hesitation.

He was a physician, after all—saving people was his specialty!

The voice vanished. After a long pause, the task appeared in Song Qingshi’s consciousness:

The storybook "A Bloom Amidst Sin's Tide" told the story of a beautiful youth named Qu Yurong, the proud young master of the prestigious Qu family in the immortal realm. Spoiled with luxury and adored by all, his life took a tragic turn when his family was annihilated by enemies. Stripped of his status, his captors, coveting his water-attribute spiritual roots and unmatched beauty, deliberately humiliated him before selling him to the most notorious pleasure house in the immortal realm. What followed was a series of disturbing events involving several men—love and torment intertwined in ways that defied logic. Eventually, Qu Yurong succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh, willingly becoming their kept lover and living a life of spoiled indulgence.

Song Qingshi felt his eyes ache from reading such nonsense. The author’s logic and morals were clearly flawed. From a psychological perspective, Qu Yurong was suffering from severe Stockholm syndrome—his so-called "love" was merely a learned helplessness to abuse, mistaking his captors’ occasional kindness for affection and convincing himself to embrace his degradation.

Now, Qu Yurong had just been sold to the brothel and was undergoing "indoctrination."

The task was to rescue Qu Yurong from his tragic fate and help him find true happiness.

Song Qingshi didn’t think it would be difficult. Though he’d never done such a thing before, he inexplicably felt confident—as if he were born for this task.

Eagerly, he accepted the task and set off to find the Tianxiang Lou and the tragic youth named Qu Yurong.

The array had assigned him the identity of a mute herb collector. Passing a shop, Song Qingshi caught his reflection in a mirror and saw a body resembling his younger self in the cultivation world—short, emaciated, sallow-skinned, with a pinched face, oversized eyes, and sparse, yellowish hair. A homely child. He figured the array had adjusted his appearance to match his original form during the puzzle. Since he’d revert upon leaving, he paid it no mind.

Being mute didn’t hinder his ability to write.

Song Qingshi found a wooden board and wrote "Tianxiang Lou" on it, gesturing and asking for directions. After encountering over a dozen "people who couldn't read," he remembered that Mo Yuan Sword Sovereign’s world used ancient script. Adjusting his writing, he finally found a kind soul who pointed him in the right direction. Sprinting toward the "challenge site," he recalled his days as a wandering cultivator—friendless, spending most of his time in the wilderness or holed up indoors. He’d never visited a brothel before.

Standing outside Tianxiang Lou, Song Qingshi pondered how a minor could enter. A passing brothel attendant glanced at him, initially mistaking him for a child offering himself for sale, but upon seeing his appearance, snorted and waved him away, deeming him too ugly to sell.

The "sell yourself" route was a no-go.

Circling the brothel, Song Qingshi suddenly remembered Song Jincheng’s advice—climbing walls and sneaking in.

He disliked climbing walls—unless it was to avoid danger or save someone. Since the "exam" required it, he’d climb.

Without hesitation, Song Qingshi scouted the area, confirmed no one was watching, and used a nearby tree to climb onto the wall.

Tianxiang Lou, being an immortal realm brothel, had protective arrays on its walls that would alert guards if touched.

The ancient barrier was crude. Song Qingshi studied it briefly, easily located the array’s focal point, and quietly created an opening using a pebble. After modifying the array to leave a weak point, he sneaked inside.

At noon, it was the time for the Flower House to rest, and everywhere was quiet with few people around.

He summoned his spiritual energy, cast a spell to conceal his presence, and controlled several butterflies, using their eyes to scout the surroundings. He successfully avoided the guards and slowly made his way toward the back courtyard where the young courtesans resided...

"Who are you?"

Suddenly, a youth's voice and the faint sound of chains came from below.

Song Qing Shi was startled and searched around until he finally discovered a basement window. Inside sat a frail, ragged youth, about fourteen or fifteen years old, with skin pale from lack of sunlight, severely malnourished, and extremely thin. His feet were shackled with long chains that had worn deep wounds into his ankles, and his hands were tightly bound behind his back. His body was covered in marks of abuse.

He slowly raised his head, revealing two long scars on his face, marring what should have been a beauty capable of captivating the world. His beautiful phoenix eyes had lost all focus, as if he could not see... Moreover, there was a small red mole beneath his left eye.

Song Qing Shi was stunned.

Despite the differences in age and appearance, and the different feel, he still recognized this as the appearance of Feng Jun.

He hurriedly approached the window, trying to ask who the other person was, but after much effort, only managed to produce faint, indistinct sounds from his throat.

The youth listened for a long time, unable to understand what he was trying to say, but knew someone was still watching him. He gently dragged the chains on his feet, changed his posture to display his slender waist and perfect long legs, then smiled, his gentle voice laced with seductive charm, speaking in honeyed words to lure his prey into a sweet trap:

"I haven't heard your voice before; you're not from here, are you?"

"Can you save me? I am willing to serve you."

"My body is still pure, untouched by any guests, it's my first time. Do you want it?"

"Are you asking for my name?"

"My name is Wu Huan."